  Produced by Al Haines. [image] Cover [image] MR. TING ASTONISHES THE SCHOOL See page 14 THE FLYING BOAT A STORY OF ADVENTURE BY ILLUSTRATED BY T. C. DUGDALE LONDON RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, CONTENTS CHAPTER THE FIRST CHAPTER THE SECOND CHAPTER THE THIRD CHAPTER THE FOURTH CHAPTER THE FIFTH CHAPTER THE SIXTH CHAPTER THE SEVENTH CHAPTER THE EIGHTH CHAPTER THE NINTH CHAPTER THE TENTH CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER THE TWELFTH CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS CHAPTER I ENTER MR. TING The term was drawing to its close, and all Cheltonia, from the senior prefect to the smallest whipper-snapper of the fourth form, was in the playing-field, practising for the sports. The centre of the greatest interest was perhaps the spot where certain big fellows of the sixth were engaged in a friendly preliminary rivalry for the high jump. There was Reginald Hattersley-Carr, who stood six feet two in his socks--a strapping young giant whom small boys gazed up at with awe, the despair of the masters, the object of a certain dislike among the prefects for his swank. There was Pierce Errington, who beside the holder of the double-barrelled name looked small, though his height was five feet ten. He was the most popular fellow in the school--dangerously popular for one of his temperament, for he was easy-going, mercurial, speaking and acting impulsively, too often rash, with a streak of the gambler in his composition--though, to be sure, he had little chance of being unduly speculative on his school pocket-money. And there was Ted Burroughs, Errington's particular chum, equally tall, almost equally popular, but as different in temperament as any man could be. Burroughs was popular because he was such a downright fellow, open as the day, a fellow everybody trusted. He always thought before he spoke, and acted with deliberation. He held very strong views as to what he or others should do or should not do, and carried out his principles with a firm will. As was natural, he did not easily make allowances for other men's weaknesses, except in the case of Errington, to whom he would concede more than to any one else. It was known that the high jump would fall to one of these three, and their performances at the bar were watched with keen appreciation by a small crowd of boys in the lower school. Hattersley-Carr had just cleared five feet three, and Errington was stripping off his sweater, in preparation for taking his run, when the school porter came up, an old soldier as stiff as a ramrod, and addressed him. "A gentleman to see you," he said. "Oh, bother!" said Errington. "Who is it, Perkins?" "A stranger to me; a sort of foreigner by the look of him: in fact, what you might call a heathen Chinee." "Bless my aunt!" Errington ejaculated, with a droll look at Burroughs. "Did you tell him where I was?" "I said as how you were jumping, most like; and he said as how he'd like to see; not much of a sport, either, by the looks of him." Now hospitality to visitors was a tradition at Cheltonia, and with the eyes of the small boys upon him Errington knew that he must accept the inevitable. But it was the law of the place that an afternoon visitor should be invited to tea at the prefects' table, and Errington, with a school-boy's susceptibility, at once foresaw a good deal of quizzing and subsequent "chipping" at the embarrassing presence of a Chinaman. "Rotten nuisance!" he said, in an undertone. "Still!"--and with a half-humorous shrug he put on his sweater and blazer and walked across to the school-house. A few minutes afterwards there was a buzz of excitement all over the field when he was seen returning with his visitor. It was an unprecedented spectacle. Beside the tall athletic form of Errington walked with quick and springy steps a little Chinaman, not much above five feet in height, slight, thin, with a very long pigtail, and a keen, alert countenance that wore an expression of vivid curiosity. There was a tittering and nudging among the smaller boys, who, however, did not desist from their occupations, and only shot an occasional side-long glance at the stranger. The members of the sixth looked on with a carefully cultivated affectation of indifference. Errington led the Chinaman to the spot where Burroughs and Hattersley-Carr were standing together, and with a pleasant smile introduced his school-fellows. "This is Burroughs--you've heard of him. They call him the Mole here. Hats--Hattersley-Carr, our strong man--Mr. Ting." Burroughs shook hands with the Chinaman, who shot a keen look at him, as if trying to discover why, his name being Burroughs, he was called the Mole. Hattersley-Carr had his hands behind him, gave the visitor the faintest possible acknowledgment, and then looked over his head, as if he no longer existed. Errington afterwards declared that he sniffed. Burroughs caught a twinkle of amusement in Mr. Ting's face, as, glancing up at the supercilious young giant towering above him, he said, in a high-pitched jerky voice, but an unexceptionable accent-- "Once a servant of Mr. Ellington's father, sir." Hattersley-Carr paid no attention. Errington flushed, and was on the point of rapping out something that would hardly have been pleasant, when Burroughs interposed. "Buck up, Pidge; we've both cleared half-an-inch higher," he said. "The tea-bell will ring in a jiffy." Whether it was that Errington was in specially good form, or that he was spurred on by Hattersley-Carr's impoliteness, it is a fact that during the next twenty minutes he twice outdid his two competitors by half-an-inch. Mr. Ting was as keen a spectator as any boy in the crowd, which, now that the jumping furnished a pretext, had grown much larger by the afflux of many who were more interested in the Chinaman. The bar stood at five feet five, and Hattersley-Carr had just failed to clear it at the third attempt, when Mr. Ting turned to Burroughs at his side, and said-- "Most intelesting. Is it allowed for visitors to tly?" "Why, certainly," replied Burroughs, hiding his astonishment with an effort. "But----" He glanced down at the clumsy-looking Chinese boots. "I should like to tly," said the Chinaman, and, lifting his feet one after the other, he took off his boots, tucked up his robe about his loins, and walked to the spot where Hattersley-Carr had begun his run. There was what the reporters call a "sensation" among the crowd. The idea of this little foreigner, a Chinaman, actually with a pigtail, and without running shorts, attempting a jump at which Hats had failed, seemed to them the best of jokes, and they lined up on each side, prepared to laugh, and pick up the little man when he fell, and give him an ironical cheer. Hattersley-Carr stood by one post, his hands on his hips, his lips wrinkled in a sneer. Errington and the Mole stood together near him, the former's face shaded with annoyance, for it was bad enough to have to entertain a Chinaman at all, without the additional ridicule which a sorry failure at the jumping bar would entail. The expression on Burroughs' countenance was simply one of sober amusement. A dead silence fell upon the crowd. Mr. Ting had halted, and was tucking up the long sleeves of his tunic, and putting on a pair of spectacles. He began to run, his feet twinkling over the grass. His pace quickened; within three yards of the bar he seemed to crouch almost to the ground; then up he flew, his pigtail flying out behind him, the eyes and mouths of the small boys opening wider with amazement. There was the bar, steady in its sockets; and there was Mr. Ting, standing erect on the other side, his features rippling with a Chinese smile. Then the cheers broke out. "Good old Chinaman!" "Well done, sir!" "Ripping old sport!" (Mr. Ting was thirty-five.) A dozen rushed forward to shake hands with him; a score flung their caps into the air; a hundred roared and yelled like Red Indians. Errington grinned at Hattersley-Carr; Burroughs stepped forward quietly with Mr. Ting's boots; and Hattersley-Carr stood in the same attitude, with the same supercilious curl of the lip. The warning bell rang; there was a quarter of an hour for changing before tea, and the throng trooped off, some to the changing-rooms, the idle onlookers to talk over the Chinaman's performance. Burroughs led Mr. Ting towards the house, Errington and Hattersley-Carr following together. "You silly ass!" said Errington. "How much?" "He was my father's comprador--confidential secretary, factotum, almost partner." "Well, he said servant: how was I to know your rotten Chinese ways?" "Anyhow, you shouldn't be such a beastly snob." And at that Hattersley-Carr turned on his heel and strode alone out of the field, and out of this history. CHAPTER II ERRINGTON MAKES A FRIEND Pierce Errington, known at school as Pidge, was the son of a Shanghai merchant who at one time had been reputed to be the wealthiest European in China. But Mr. Errington was his own worst enemy. Generous and impulsive, he lacked balance; and though he had a positive genius for business, at times his business faculties seemed to desert him, and he showed a rashness and audacity in speculative ventures that amazed his friends. While his wife lived, this trait was not allowed to over-assert itself, but after her death he became more and more reckless, and ultimately lost almost all his fortune in one black year. When he died suddenly of heart failure, it was found that he had left just enough to complete his only son's education, and to provide the boy with a trifle of pocket-money when he went out into the world. Pierce was twelve years old, and at a preparatory school in England, at the time of his father's death. He was committed to the guardianship of a distant relative, a merchant in the City, who fulfilled his trust with scrupulous honour, but with no excess of kindness. Pierce became very sick of hearing from his guardian, at least once a term and more often during the holidays, that he had no prospects, and must look to himself for his future. "I'm a self-made man," the merchant would say proudly; and Pierce, when he was a public school-boy and began to have ideas of his own, would think: "A precious bad job you made of it." Mr. Errington's oldest friend was a fellow merchant in Shanghai. John Burroughs was a plodder. He might never be so rich as Errington, but certainly he would never be so poor. He had often tried to check his friend's wildest speculations, and then Errington would laugh, and thank him, and say that it was no good. The two men were about the same age, and their sons were born within a few months of each other. When the time came for them to go to England for education, the boys were sent to the same preparatory school, and entered at the same public school. They had been companions since babyhood, and the friendship between the fathers seemed to be only intensified in the sons. They were the greatest chums, and being equally good at sports and their books, they had kept pace with each other through the schools, and reached the sixth and the dignity of prefect at Cheltonia together. Each was now in his eighteenth year, and neither had been back to China since they left it, eight years before. During those eight years, Errington had received very regular letters from a correspondent who signed himself Ting Chuh. At first these letters bored him; as he grew older they amused him; and latterly they had given rise to a certain perplexed curiosity. Why did Ting Chuh take so great an interest in him? Why was he continually poking his funny old proverbs at him? "An ox with a ring in his nose--so is the steady man." "Remember never to feel after a pin on the bottom of the ocean." "It is folly to covet another man's horse and to lose your own ox." Sentences like these occurred in all Mr. Ting's letters--all warning him against attempting impossibilities, or leaving the substance for the shadow, or letting his impulses run away with him. Of course Errington knew that Mr. Ting had occupied a special position in his father's household, and he remembered vaguely that he had been quite fond of Tingy in his early years; but he was at a loss to understand why the Chinaman appeared to have constituted himself his moral guardian--why he sent for copies of all his school reports, and wrote him such exceedingly dull comments on them. "But he's a good sort," he would say to himself, and forget the homily and Mr. Ting until the next letter arrived. Ting Chuh had made money while Mr. Errington lost it, through sheer native shrewdness and industry. The relations between master and man were very close and confidential. On Mr. Errington's death, Mr. Ting set up for himself in business, and acquired wealth with wonderful rapidity; everybody trading on the China coast knew him and trusted him, except some few "mean whites" who were incapable of any decent feeling towards a Chinaman. He had now taken advantage of a business visit to London to call upon the boy in whose welfare he was more deeply interested than the boy himself knew. The time was approaching when Errington must leave school, and Mr. Ting had certain private reasons for wishing to judge by personal observation what manner of man had developed from the little boy of ten whom he had last seen on the deck of a home-going liner. Errington's uneasy forebodings as to the result of the Chinaman's appearance at the tea-table were agreeably dispelled. Mr. Ting was the hero of the hour. He talked fluently, with an occasional quaintness of expression that lent a charm to his conversation; and when it came out casually that his business in England had involved several interviews with the Foreign Secretary, he went up as high in the estimation of the prefects as his athletic feat had carried him with the younger boys. Moreover, at his departure he showed himself very generous and discriminating in the way of tips, and he was voted a jolly good sort by the school. He was particularly cordial in his good-bye to Ted Burroughs. "I hope to see you again befo'e long," he said, "and I thank you for yo' kindness." The summer ran its course. Just before the holidays Errington and Burroughs each received a letter from China that filled them at once with regret and with excitement. Mr. Burroughs wrote that Ted was to return to Shanghai and take his place in the business. Errington's letter was from Mr. Ting. MY DEAR LAD, You have now completed your book learning, and it is time to fill your own kettle with rice, as we say. With approval of your guardian, I have obtained for you a post in the great company of Ehrlich SÖhne, who have manifold activities, and lots of branches in all parts of China. With them you will gain valuable experience of intrinsic excellence. You will not be blind fowl picking after worms. Your friend Mole is to come to China next month; I vote you come with him, for pleasant company shortens the longest road. You will have liberal allowance for outfit, for as your proverb says, do not spoil ship for ha'porth of tar. Until I see you, then, I write myself your true friend, TING CHUH. No boy likes to leave school, but the regrets of the two friends were tempered by their anticipation of novel scenes and fresh experiences. They were delighted at the prospect of going out together, and found themselves looking forward eagerly to the end of the term. One day an advertisement of the North German Lloyd caught Errington's eye. "I say, Moley, I vote we go out on a German ship," he said to Burroughs. "It will be a jolly sight more interesting than a British ship, and we shall get a good deal of sport in studying the funny foreigner." Burroughs agreed, and in due time they booked their passage on the Prinz Eitel Friedrich. It did not occur to them that the "funny foreigner" might also find some interest in studying them; but after certain exciting experiences which befell them during the next two years, they remarked on the strange consequences that came of a single advertisement in the Times. They joined the vessel at Plymouth, and would perhaps have attracted no attention among their fellow-passengers but for a somewhat unusual object among their belongings. Burroughs, unlike Errington, had always enjoyed plenty of pocket-money, and being fond of boating, he had bought first a skiff for use on the river during holidays and then a small motor launch. Just before leaving school he had happened to see a hydroplane in the Solent, and it occurred to him that he and Errington, when they got to China, would find such a vessel useful, or at least exciting, on the Yang-tse-kiang. Accordingly he exchanged his launch for a small speedy hydroplane of the best type: and the novel vessel aroused a certain curiosity in some of the passengers as they saw it lowered into the hold. For a day or two after quitting port they kept pretty much to themselves, exchanging notes about their fellow-passengers, and finding some amusement in watching their deportment in the dining-saloon. One man in particular engaged their attention. He was a German of florid aspect, with hair cut short and standing up brush-like, and a thick brown moustache which he evidently took some pains in training À la Kaiser. This was not so uncommon as to mark him out for special notice; but the boys observed, after a few days, that this man, though possessing the most engaging manners, seemed to be somewhat shunned by the rest of the German passengers. They did not actually cut him, but they appeared to hold themselves aloof. He belonged to none of the sets into which passengers on a long voyage invariably split up; he was never invited to join their card-parties. The vague impression formed by the boys was that the Germans felt a sort of distrust for their compatriot. The only man on board who appeared to admit him to terms of intimacy was a German major-general who was proceeding to Kiau-chou, the German settlement. These two were often to be seen of an evening under the awning on the foredeck, remote from the other passengers, conversing in low tones, though with no appearance of secrecy. One evening, after dinner, the boys were leaning over the rail, idly watching the incandescent play upon the surface of the sea, when the German sauntered past them, turned, and made a pleasant remark about the charming weather. He spoke English very well, with scarcely anything to reveal his nationality except the customary difficulty with the th. There was something attractive about the man, and Errington, seeing that he seemed disposed to continue the conversation, offered him a cigarette, and invited him to place a deck-chair beside those which the boys had opened for themselves. "I zink I may almost call myself an old friend," said the German. "Am I mistaken, or are you ze son of ze late Mr. Herbert Errington, of Shanghai?" "Yes; did you know him?" asked Errington. "He was a great friend of mine: you are very much like him. His death" (he pronounced the word "dess") "was a blow to me. And you, Mr. Burroughs--I hope I may call myself a friend also, if your fazer is Mr. John Burroughs of ze same town." "Yes," said the Mole simply. "I am charmed to meet you," said the German cordially. "Your fazer's firm is concurrent wiz mine. You have been long absent, at school, no doubt; and you, Mr. Errington, will not remember me; ze years wipe out early impressions; but when you were a child I saw you often when I visited my old friend, your fazer. My name is Conrad Reinhardt." "I don't recall it," said Errington, "but then I was only a kid when I left Shanghai. We've been at school, as you guessed, Mr. Reinhardt, and we're going back now to start work." "Ah yes, ze days of school must end. Zey are good days, especially ze sport. You will find good golf in Shanghai. No doubt you go to join Mr. Burroughs?" "The Mole does--Ted, you know: we called him the Mole at school because he's Burroughs; but I'm going to a German firm: of course you know them--Ehrlich SÖhne." Burroughs was a trifle annoyed that his companion was so communicative: but "It's just like Pidge," he said to himself. "Indeed!" said the German, in response to Errington's last remark. "Zat is my own firm. I am delighted zat I shall have you for a colleague. It is a good firm: naturally I say so; but every one says ze same. You will have opportunities zat few ozer firms can offer. Zere are great prospects." He proceeded to dilate upon the vast business conducted by his firm; their transactions in silk and cotton and grass-cloth fibre; their difficulties with the Customs and with river pirates, and so on, incidentally giving many descriptions of the ways of Chinamen, which the boys listened to with interest. "You know Mr. Ting, of course?" said Errington presently. "Ting Chuh? oh yes, of course," replied the German; and Burroughs, closely observant, noticed a scarcely perceptible constraint in his manner. "An excellent man of business; a little difficult, perhaps. I remember, he was your fazer's comprador, Mr. Errington. You have nozink now to do wiz him?" "Not officially, if that's what you mean: but he's kept up a correspondence with me, and it was he that got me this crib with your firm." "Indeed! Zen zat is a great compliment to ze firm, and, if I may say so, also to you. Ting is a good man of business, highly respected. To place you wiz us shows zat he has a great opinion of us, and also of you. Zis information interests me extremely." From this time forth Mr. Reinhardt was often in the boys' company. He was always very pleasant, and they wondered more and more why the majority of the passengers avoided him. But when he began to teach Errington some card games of which he had never before heard, Burroughs felt uneasy. On the first occasion, when he was asked to join them, he declined, and they did not ask him again. Knowing how easily Errington was led, and remembering indications of his having inherited his father's propensity for speculation, he ventured one night to enter a mild protest. "I say, Pidge," he said, "I don't think I'd play cards much with Reinhardt if I were you." "Why on earth not? Sixpence is our highest stake: are you afraid of my ruining myself?" "Of course not, but--well, Reinhardt isn't liked on board; there may be something shady about him." "Come, that's dashed unfair. You know nothing against the man. For goodness' sake, don't get starchy and puritanical." The natural boy's horror of seeming preachy or priggish kept Burroughs from saying more; but his manner towards the German grew chilly, and he could not help noticing that Errington was somewhat nettled at his friendly warning. One day, for his own satisfaction, he put a question bluntly to the captain, with whom he was on good terms. "Do you know anything against Herr Reinhardt?" he asked. The Captain fingered his beard before he replied. "No," he said slowly, "I know nothing. But don't let your friend become too thick with him." Burroughs went away less satisfied than before, and watched the growing intimacy with more and more uneasiness. CHAPTER III A MOVE UP COUNTRY The two young fellows settled down easily to their new life at Shanghai. Though they had been absent from China so long, the impressions of their early years had not been obliterated, but were only overlaid by the later impressions received in England. Thus they felt little of the sense of strangeness which a man feels on coming into contact with what is absolutely new to him. The narrow dirty streets, half the width of an ordinary room, paved with stone slabs, and crowded all day long with people chaffering in shrill voices, and picking their way through immense heaps of fish, pork and vegetables; the low open shops, displaying silks and porcelain, ornaments and bronzes, and a thousand other varieties of merchandise more or less costly; the numerous tea-shops and dining-rooms, more frequent even than public-houses in the east end of London; the immense variety of smells, in which Shanghai surely outrivals Cologne: all these features of the native city soon ceased to have the charm of novelty; and the clean, well-paved, well-tended quarters of the European community differed little in general characteristics from the towns of the west. The boys met with nothing but the friendliness which Europeans settled abroad always extend to new-comers, and Errington in particular became a great favourite. Mr. Burroughs insisted that he should live with him and his family. Somewhat to Errington's surprise, he saw little of Mr. Ting. The Chinaman had met him at the quay on the boat's arrival, but after inquiring about the voyage, and promising to give him any assistance he needed, he left him to Mr. Burroughs. Reinhardt passed the group as he walked off the gangway, and Ted Burroughs noticed that he gave Mr. Ting a markedly effusive greeting, which the Chinaman returned politely and with an inscrutable smile. Burroughs was vastly relieved when he learnt that Reinhardt was not permanently stationed in Shanghai. The German was in charge of a branch establishment of his firm at Sui-Fu, a populous treaty port many miles up the river, and paid only occasional visits to head-quarters. Errington never alluded to him, and Burroughs felt that he had perhaps been a little over-hasty in misjudging a mere shipboard acquaintance. His uneasiness returned, however, when, during a visit of a fortnight in Shanghai, Reinhardt invited Errington to several card-parties, from which he returned flushed and excited. Remembering the result of his former expostulation, Burroughs said nothing; he felt that he could not play the grandmother with his friend; but his disapproval was easily seen, and for a day or two there was a slight coolness between them. One day Mr. Ting met Errington in the street as if by chance: in reality he had waylaid him. "Getting on nicely?" he said. "First chop," replied Errington, with a laugh: he had picked up some pidgin English. "That is good. You have many flends," said the Chinaman. "Good flends are a delight in plospelity, and a stay in advessity. Bad flends--but of course you have none. Leinhadt is, of course, no flend of yours." "I rather think he is," said Errington, nettled at once. "Why do you say that?" "Well, you may eat with a flend, and talk to a flend, and play cards with flends, at home; but the men you play cards with away from home, they are not often flends." "Look here, Mr. Ting, I don't understand what you are driving at. I play cards with Mr. Reinhardt: you seem to know it; have you got anything to say against it? Is he a card-sharper? Has he swindled you or any one else? If he has, you'd better say so, and then I shall know what to do." "He has not swindled me, or any one else, that I can prove." "Well then," cried the lad hotly, "I'll thank you to mind your own business. You bored me with your sermons when I was a kid at school; but I'm no longer a schoolboy, and I tell you flatly I won't be watched and preached at by you, if you were ten times my father's friend. I'm quite able to take care of myself." "I could wish nothing better," said the Chinaman quietly. "I was your father's flend, and I hope I shall always be yours." Errington had already repented of his outburst, and Mr. Ting's dignified reception of it made him feel ashamed of himself. "Of course you are," he said. "I was always a hot-tempered brute; I'm sorry." And the two parted on the best of terms. After about a year, when both Errington and Burroughs had began to get a grip of their work, the former came home from the office one evening, and seeking his chum in the little den they shared, said in a tone of elation-- "I say, old man, I'm getting on. They're going to raise my screw and transfer me to Sui-Fu. "Under Reinhardt?" asked Burroughs quickly. "Yes. I shouldn't wonder if he got me the crib. He has to be away a great deal, and though there's a capable comprador, they seem to think a European ought to be on the spot. I wish you were coming too." "I should like it. It's a lift for you, Pidge, and I'm glad." Errington talked on in his impulsive way about what he would do, and how he would make things hum, while Burroughs listened and said little. He had already made up his mind to go with Errington if possible; scarcely confessing it even to himself, he wanted to keep an eye on his friend when he came directly under the influence of the German; but he did not wish to hint at the possibility of arranging a transfer for himself until he had spoken to his father. Late that night, when the rest had retired, he went to his father's study. "Well, Ted, what is it?" said Mr. Burroughs, looking up from some papers. "I'd like to go up with Pidge if you can manage it, Dad," replied the boy, coming straight to the point. "You would, eh? What an excitable fellow he is, Ted! He talked about nothing else at dinner--or hardly anything, and it's all done so pleasantly you can't resent it. Well, you want to go: any particular reason?" "Well, you see, we've always been together, and ... Dad, why do people dislike Reinhardt?" "Off at a tangent, aren't you? I think it's a case of 'I do not like thee, Dr. Fell; the reason why I cannot tell.' Some say he's got a brute of a temper behind his pleasant manner, and he's rather fond of cards; but I never heard any definite charge against him." "Well, I detest the fellow, and I don't like to think of Pidge constantly in his company. You've seen enough of Pidge to know what I mean, dad, so I'm not giving him away. He's a jolly good sort, the best of pals, wouldn't do a dirty trick to any one; but he's hasty, makes friends too easily, thinks every one is as decent as himself----" "In short, you think he wants looking after." "Oh, I'm not ass enough to want to hold him on a lead; but I do think if I were with him I might be useful. You see, if Reinhardt is a bad egg, and Pidge finds it out, he'll never look at him again--if he doesn't give him a kicking by way of good-bye. If I'm on the spot, I can keep my eye on the fellow, and perhaps open Pidge's eyes in time. Can't you shift me to your branch there?" "You would have gone there anyhow in course of time, so if you're set on it I shan't raise any objection. It won't do you any harm to be in charge of a branch, and with Sing Wen there--a capital fellow--you won't have the chance to make many mistakes. We'll consider that settled, then." "Thanks, Dad; I thought you'd agree. Pidge will be glad: he said he wished I was coming too." "He won't resent the curb, eh?" "He won't feel it if I can help it. He's very touchy, and I learnt a lesson on the boat. Good-night, Dad." "Good-night, old man. By the way, in case I forget it when you go, always carry a revolver with you up there, but never use it except as a last resort. That's a good working rule for a European in an up-river district. Good-night." Another person besides Ted Burroughs was uneasy at the prospective transference of Errington to Sui-Fu. Mr. Ting, who knew everything that was going on, or at least as much as he wished to know, heard of it as soon as it was decided, and would have taken some trouble to prevent it if he could have urged anything definite against the character of Reinhardt. But he was a very discreet person. He had reasons of his own for maintaining cordial relations with Errington, and reflected that even at a distance he could still find means of looking after him. And when he learnt that Burroughs was to accompany his chum he felt more at ease; he had great confidence in the steady, down-right Mole. Reinhardt invited the boys to go up river in his motor-launch, a very powerful vessel in which he made his journeys between Shanghai and Sui-Fu. The launch had been bought out of the German navy as a condemned vessel; but some people remarked that if the Germans could afford to condemn vessels of this kind, their navy must be even more "tip-top" than was supposed. As the boys intended to take their hydroplane to their new quarters, they declined Reinhardt's invitation, resolving to follow in the wake of the launch and test the relative speed of the two vessels. The hydroplane was now by no means identical in appearance with the vessel that had roused a passing curiosity at Plymouth. During the year they had been in China the boys had devoted all their spare time to turning it into a hydro-aeroplane. They replaced the original hull with a much lighter frame of canvas, fitting a kite-shaped half-keel under its forward part. They kept their engine, but adapted it to work two propellers, one at the stern, below the water-line, for driving the vessel through the water; the other raised some feet above the forepart, for driving it through the air. To the sides they fitted floats, and large planes, capable of being folded back when the vessel was to be used as a hydroplane, and adjustable at various angles. By means of differential gearing they contrived that the power of the water screw could be gradually reduced, while the air tractor gained in the same proportion. The effect of their arrangements was that as the speed in the water increased, the vessel rose a little; then, bringing into play an elevator and the tractor, they made the vessel rise completely out of the water and behave in all respects as an aeroplane. The flying boat, as it came to be known in Shanghai, gave them at first as much trouble as it gave amusement to their friends. Their early experiments with the new model were exasperating. They found that they could rise above the water for a short distance, but then fell, not always gently, and sometimes with anything but pleasant consequences to themselves and the machine. More than once they had diverted the spectators on the bank by having to swim for it, and subsequently to fish up the machine from the bottom. They had never yet risked a flying experiment in deep water; but the good-humoured advice of their friends to let the boat remain a boat only made them the more determined to succeed. The journey up the great "outside old river," as their Chinese servants called it, was full of interest to the young traders. At first so wide as to seem rather a sea than a river, six hundred miles from its mouth it was still nearly a mile wide, crowded with fine cargo steamers, and innumerable native junks, rafts, lorchas and cormorant boats, conveying the produce of the interior to the various treaty ports. They passed large riverside villages teeming with an industrious population: then came into vast stretches of swamp choked with reed-beds, beyond which the country for miles presented an unbroken vista of forest, or of luxuriant crops. Here clustered a village almost at the edge of the stream, the quaint pagoda-like houses raised several feet above the level, behind stone or brick embankments, necessary in time of flood. At another place the houses were perched on a cliff, nestling picturesquely among trees and shrubs. Between Ichang and Chung-king they entered a region of rock-strewn rapids, which, however, were now partly obscured by the summer floods. The river here swirled seaward at the rate of from seven to ten knots, forming dangerous whirlpools, and needing skilful navigation. Reinhardt had performed the journey many times, and his crew were familiar with every part of the course. The launch thrashed its way against the current, and the hydroplane had no difficulty in following in its wake, escaping the full force of the enormous volume of water by skimming the surface. In mere speed it was the superior craft. Reinhardt had not been very well pleased when he learnt that Burroughs was to join his friend. He was too astute not to be aware that the boy disliked him; but he was also too astute to betray his consciousness of it, and his manner towards Burroughs was if anything even more conciliatory and gracious than to other people. On the day of their departure, when they met at the quayside, he greeted him with the effusiveness of an old friend; and after their arrival at Sui-Fu, seemed to lay himself out to please. But the more pleasant he was, the more distrustful Burroughs became; and the younger man was always annoyed with himself because he feared he only imperfectly concealed his real feelings. Sui-Fu was a large city at the junction of the Min and the Chin-sha rivers, which unite to form the Yang-tse-kiang. It was a busy place, and contained a considerable European community, whose houses stood in wooded grounds on the river bank. After spending a few days in the English consul's bungalow, the two friends started a little chummery near the river--a sitting-room, and a bedroom apiece, with a compound and outbuildings for their native servants. In addition to a cook and a man-of-all-work, they had each a personal servant. The two Chinamen soon cordially hated each other, as is the rule in such cases; but neither had any dislike for the other's master. Lo San, Errington's man, was just as attentive and respectful to Burroughs as his own man, Chin Tai. The Englishmen more than once had to intervene between the two Chinamen when they were fighting with their feet and nails, and they threatened at last to dismiss them both if they could not keep the peace. The threat was effective so far as it prevented fights and shrill abuse; but the masters would have been amused, perhaps, if they could have seen how the servants in their own quarters managed to express their hate without making a noise. There was a difference between the positions of the two boys at Sui-Fu, inasmuch as Burroughs was nominally head of his branch, whereas Errington was only an assistant to Reinhardt. But it turned out that the German was very often absent, travelling inland in various directions. He appeared to have an extensive acquaintance among Chinese viceroys and other high officials, and had a very large personal correspondence, which apparently had no relationship to the business of his firm. The result was that a great deal of the routine work of the office was left to Errington, who in a short time had practically as much responsibility as Burroughs. The two branches were in a sense competitors--that is to say, they dealt in the same class of goods, and bargained with the same merchants and dealers. But thanks to the personal relationship between the two Englishmen, their firms, so far as the branches at Sui-Fu were concerned, acted in concert, to their mutual benefit, because the Chinese merchants were unable to play one off against the other. One day, after the conclusion of a certain transaction between Burroughs and a cotton-grower, Reinhardt remarked dryly to Errington that Ehrlich SÖhne had lost a chance of making a considerable profit. "I dare say," said Errington quickly, "but Burroughs and I must either work together, or definitely work against each other. If we are going to cut each other's throats I'd better go back to Shanghai." "Nonsense, my dear fellow: nozink farzer from my soughts. You do very well; only I am vexed to lose good business." The matter dropped. Reinhardt found Errington too useful to be willing to quarrel with him. But a little later he let fall a hint that if Errington held his tongue, it would be possible to carry through certain business deals from time to time without Burroughs' knowledge. Vague as the hint was, it disgusted Errington, and he felt a dawning distrust of Reinhardt; but the German, quick to read him, laughed it off as a joke, saying that no one could suppose that Damon and Pythias could for a moment be separated. Errington did not mention these matters to his friend, from a reluctance to admit that Burroughs' opinion of Reinhardt was justified. It was soon evident to them both that Reinhardt, however much he might be disliked by the community at Shanghai, enjoyed somewhat unusual privileges. His frequent absences were known to his principals, and he made many visits to Shanghai and Kiauchou--visits which Errington, who had good means of judging, knew were not connected with the business. A little light was thrown on the matter by Burroughs' comprador, who told his master one day that he had a brother whose brother-in-law kept an opium den at a small town a few miles up the river. Opium-smoking was forbidden in China, but, like gambling and lotteries and other prohibited things, it was winked at by the local mandarins in many parts of the country, in consideration of heavy bribes. Reinhardt's launch was often seen anchored off the place, sometimes when he had gone there ostensibly to transact business with a cloth-dealer, at other times as a stage in his longer journeys. He had not the appearance of a victim of the opium habit, and Burroughs concluded that he gave way to occasional bouts, of which the effects were temporary. |
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