Stan Lynn Part 23

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

"CHINESE MEN-OF-WAR."

Stan Lynn lay holding his breath and straining his ears, till he uttered a hoa.r.s.e gasp, and all the while the murmur of voices and the plas.h.i.+ng of an oar came nearer and nearer. Then the sounds were so close that he raised himself a little to look round for some hiding-place in the depths of the vessel, and then dared not stir. But all at once, just as he felt that the boat must be alongside, relief came in a hearty laugh uttered by one of the boatmen, the plash, plash, plash of the oar grew more distant, and he let nerve and muscle relax till he felt limp and helpless ready to do nothing but lie panting amongst the rotten wood, resting and trying to recover his failing powers.

The light overhead increased, and as his eyes wandered here and there he could see bright cracks and rifts in the deck and high up in the sides, all evidences that he had found a sanctuary in some dilapidated, half-rotten junk which had been drawn close insh.o.r.e ready for breaking up, its services being evidently at an end.

The morning grew brighter, and fresh sounds of plas.h.i.+ng came near, tempting him to creep through the half-darkness to where the first gleams of the morning sun streamed through a rift in the side. Upon reaching it and applying his eyes, he found that he could command a good view of the river to right, left, and across, with the water becoming animated, boats large and small pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing, the opposite sh.o.r.e waking up, and smoke beginning to rise from the house-boats moored close to the bank, and all the morning business of a great city appearing around.

If only the old junk were left alone, Stan felt that he might lie in hiding till night. There might be a possibility of his marking down some boat, and as soon as it was dark wading or swimming to it, when, if he could loosen it from its moorings and secure the mast, sails, or oars, escape would be simplicity itself. But, as the lad argued, there were so many _ifs_.

"But I oughtn't to grumble," he muttered. "I have got out of the prison, and I am here in a capital hiding-place where n.o.body is likely to come."

Just about the time when he had come to this conclusion a waft of some peculiar odour from food being cooked seemed to float down the river and reach his nostrils, producing a sensation that was repeated again and again with increasing violence, till the poor fellow uttered a low moan of misery.

"If this goes on I shan't be able to bear it," he muttered; and then, setting his teeth hard, he groaned out through them, "I must--I must.

Oh, what a coward I am! I've only got to wait till it's dark, and then surely I can land and find something somewhere."

But even as he tried to console himself with these words, he felt more and more hopeless, not seeing for a moment where he was to search, and all the time suffering more and more keenly.

For in all directions smoke was rising from the hundreds upon hundreds of house-boats that lined the sh.o.r.es, as well as from the many one-storied houses cl.u.s.tering together, and a strange mingling of the most maddening scents came floating around--literally maddening to one whose sole sustenance for many hours had been a couple of bananas and a piece of cake.

It was all so horribly civilised, too. The fugitive was in far-away Asia, but his nostrils were a.s.sailed with the steam of fragrant tea, freshly roasted coffee, newly baked bread, frying fish, and appetising bacon.

No wonder the starving lad called it maddening as he crouched down in the darkness and tried to think of other things.

Before long, however, he had something else to take his attention, for a procession of nearly a dozen huge junks came slowly down the stream, each with its leering, painted eyes and gay dragon-like gilded ornamentations.

They were full of men armed with spear, fork, and trident, besides in parts bristling with matchlock barrels, while fore and aft the watcher could see that they carried big service-guns.

"Chinese men-of-war, full of soldiers!" Stan mentally exclaimed; but only to alter his opinion directly, for he had some little experience of the Government troops, and knew that the men all wore a grotesque kind of uniform.

They were not merchant-vessels, he thought, for though many of the trading-junks carried armed men, those before his eyes were out of all proportion.

"Could they be pirates?" he asked himself; but the sight of the leading junk casting anchor in midstream--an example followed by the rest--put an end to his surmises, for they were evidently at peace with the people in the vessels about them and on sh.o.r.e, many landing and mingling with the men who came to the sides and crowded in boats about the anch.o.r.ed vessels to supply them with food.

So much was going on all about him in this latter way that every now and then Stan felt that, come what might, he must land and seek for something, even if it was only a loaf of bread, to appease his hunger; but he knew it meant surrendering his liberty, for there would be a crowd round him at once; while doubtless by this time it was known that the foreign devil had escaped:

Stan watched till the morning was well advanced, longing for the night to come even though the sun was not yet at its height, while now a fresh agony a.s.sailed him; the rugged deck overhead began to get hotter and hotter, and the air about him suffocating, till at last he felt that at all hazards he must crawl up and trust to his not being seen while he crept to some spot where the remains of the lofty stern would act the double part of shading him from the sun and the curious eyes of those who pa.s.sed.

There are limits to human endurance. Stan had not slept for above an hour during the previous night, and the bodily and mental toil he had gone through were tremendous. Hence it was that when his sufferings were at the worst, the faintness produced by his hunger and the heat more than he could bear, a half-delirious kind of insensibility stole over him--half-stupor, half-sleep--which tided him over the hottest part of the day, rendering him oblivious to all that was going on, till he awoke suddenly, to find, to his amazement, that it was twilight in his hiding-place, and on looking out through a rift he could see the river glowing like blood from the reflection of the sunset clouds.

In his excitement at the beauty of the scene which met his eyes lower down the river, he clapped his hands together, and had hard work to refrain from shouting aloud, merely standing gazing out through the open rift in the planking, and feeling giddy now in his joy.

Hunger and heat were forgotten, and he gazed out till his eyes grew dim and he had to make an effort to avoid yielding to the giddiness and swimming which attacked his head.

Strange that one in such a terrible position should feel such ecstasy upon seeing a glorious vision in the sunset beauties of that far-eastern river? Not at all. Stan Lynn was in no sentimental mood to be moved to such excitement by a few orange-and-gold clouds reflected in the water, or the gay aspect of the thronging people haunting the great warlike junks still moored higher up. Stan's beautiful vision was something far more simple. It was that of a lad of about his own age seated in a _sampan_ which he had moored about a hundred yards lower down the stream. There he was, sitting alone, unnoticing and unnoticed save by the watcher in the crumbling junk's hull, who saw him pull up a silvery fish, and then, after putting it into a basket between his feet, proceed to rebait his hook and cast it in again.

Was it hunger, then, which produced a longing for a few raw fish? Again nothing of the kind. As Stan's eyes lighted upon that small boat, which seemed to have a little mast and matting sail laid with the oars and pole projecting over the stern, the idea had struck him that this was exactly the kind of boat for which he longed. Could he but gain possession thereof and get rid of the boy who was fis.h.i.+ng, while retaining his lines and bait, the _hong_, no matter how many days'

journey distant, was within easy reach; and hence when Stan clapped his hands it was after coming to the determination that he would have that boat at all costs.

But how?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"OH!--HAH!"

"Where there's a will there's a way," says the old proverb.

It is not quite true, but there's a great deal of truth in it; and Stan had made up his mind how to gain possession of the boat almost before the boy had caught another fish.

The first idea was to wait till it was quite dark, so that his proceedings might not be seen by people in the many boats or from either sh.o.r.e; but he dared not wait, for at any moment the boy might be satisfied with the fish he had caught--scores, for aught Stan could tell--pull up his anchor, and row ash.o.r.e, and the chance of getting the means of reaching the _hong_ would be gone. What he did must be done at once, Stan concluded, and he prepared to act.

Fortune was favouring him, for the boat swung by a rope from the bows, and the boy was at the other end, facing the stern, over which he hung his line. And consequently he was sitting with his back to him who was planning the onslaught upon his peace.

Stan's thoughts ran fast as he watched through the gap in the side of the junk and completed his plans, getting them so compact and clear that at last, as the boy fished on, it seemed as if he had nothing to do but make a start and succeed; but when at last he was quite strung up to the sticking-point, obstacle after obstacle began to appear and suggest impossibilities.

He was safely hid in the hold of the junk, but the moment he appeared on deck in his white flannels he would be a mark for every eye, from the crews on the high p.o.o.ps and sterns of the great junks to the people on the house-boats and sh.o.r.e, as well as the busy folk paddling here and there in the little _sampans_ which were constantly on the move up, down, and across the river.

He seemed to hear the shout raised, "Foreign devil!" and to see the fis.h.i.+ng boy, warned thereby, jumping up in his boat, pulling up the little wooden anchor, and rowing out of his reach, while scores of eager people joined in to hunt him down.

Stan's venture seemed to become more and more mad, and he breathed hard, feeling that he must give it up. But there was the river before him, one wide-open way, flowing down and ready to bear him onward night and day toward his friends.

But he wanted the boat, and the only way was to seize it--steal it, he told himself, though he comforted himself with the thought that he was a prisoner trying to escape from his enemies, and that such a reprisal would be just.

"I must--I will do it," he panted. "Oh, I wish I wasn't such a coward to hesitate like this!--And there's another fish. He must have caught enough to leave me a good meal, and I am so, so hungry! Now then! Once to be ready!" he muttered, with his old school-games rising before him.

"Twice to be steady!"

He paused here long enough to see the boy hook and draw in another fish, then bait again, and--

Stan was in agony, for the boy hesitated, paused to pick up a basket and examine its contents, and then he seemed as if he were satisfied and about to haul up his anchor and make for the sh.o.r.e.

"Too late!" groaned Stan. "I ought to have tried before. It's all over. I must look out for another boat."

He was casting his eyes in other directions, when, with a feeling of relief that is impossible to describe, he saw the boy drop down again and continue fis.h.i.+ng.

Stan's nerves and muscles were now like steel, and he began to crawl for the broken portion of the deck, got well hold of a cross-piece of bamboo with both hands, and commenced swinging himself to and fro from his hands till he could get one foot up, then the other, level with his face; and by a clever effort he raised himself so that he could, thanks to old gymnastic games at school, fling himself on to the unbroken part, where, after a few moments' pause, he began to crawl to the edge of the deck where the bulwarks had broken and rotted away. Then, feeling that he must dare everything now, he lowered himself down, his feet sinking, and the water rising about him as he stretched his arms out till it was up to his hips.

And there he hung, a white figure in the evening glow, right in view for a few moments, as he hesitated before making the final effort.

"Suppose he shows fight," he thought to himself. "Well, I must show fight too. I've licked English chaps as big as myself, and it will go hard if I can't lick a Chinese."

At this point he straightened his fingers, which were crooked over a ragged piece of bamboo, and _plosh_! he went down feet first with a heavy, sucking noise; the water closed over his head with a deep, thundering roar, and keeping himself quite rigid and his eyes wide-open, he waited till, after what seemed an immensely long time in darkness, his head rose above the ruddy surface of the water, and he found that he had turned as the current carried him along, so that he was looking at the rotten old vessel he had left.

Stan was skilful swimmer enough to reverse his position, and found it none too soon, for there was the boat he sought to reach some forty yards away, and so much out of the course he was taking that he had to begin swimming till he was well in a line with his goal, but so much nearer that as he ceased striking out he was close upon the anchor-line.