Stan Lynn Part 58

"And I too, uncle."

"You are, I know, Stan. Well, it's of no use to cry over spilt milk.

The thing's done and can't be undone. But there's the motive, and now the poor weak fellow has gratified his revengeful bit of spite let us hope he is satisfied and that all will go smoothly. Still, it is a painful thought that we have had a traitor in the camp."

"I don't care," said Stan firmly.

"It is of no use to care, my lad; but if we have the enemy back I should certainly lock Master Wing where he could do no mischief."

"You misunderstand me, uncle," said Stan. "I didn't finish what I meant to say."

"Let's have it, then, boy."

"I meant to say, I don't care; I don't believe Wing would do such a thing."

"Neither do I," said Blunt warmly. "The poor fellow is too true. He was quite affectionate to me in attending to my wounds, and nothing could have been better than the plucky way in which he ran all risks through the fight, and afterwards undertook the commission to go and fetch the cartridges. No; I say Wing was not the guilty party."

"Well," said Uncle Jeff, "I want to be with you, for I like old Wing.

There's a something about him that puts me in mind of a faithful dog.

We'll agree that it was not he, and that drives us to suspect the coolies."

"Yes," said Blunt; "and I don't like suspecting them, for a better set of fellows never lived."

"There couldn't be," said Stan. "They almost wors.h.i.+p Mr Blunt, uncle."

"Hah!" said the latter. "It's a puzzle, then, and I can't help thinking that the best way will be to drop the matter and be watchful. If we begin investigating we may not find out the guilty, but we're bound to upset the innocent by our suspicions. I say, Blunt, I wouldn't wake up sleeping Chinese again with the rifle."

"You may depend upon it I shall not, sir," said Blunt frankly. "And now, if I may change the subject, I want to be put out of my misery."

"With a rifle, Blunt?" said Uncle Jeff dryly.

"No, no; not in that way, though I do want it done with cartridges. I shall be in misery till we get those ash.o.r.e and in the magazine."

"Quite right; we'll have them seen to at once. We must be ready if the enemy do come."

"I say, uncle," cried Stan merrily, "how you keep on _we_ing! Any one would think you meant to stop."

"I do mean to stop, my boy," said Uncle Jeff sharply.--"No, no, no, no, Blunt; don't take it like that," he continued as he saw the change in the manager's countenance. "I have not come to supersede you, only as a humble recruit, ready if wanted, which I fervently hope I shall not be.

I should have brought half-a-dozen good fighting-men with me, only there are none in stock at Hai-Hai. It is getting to be every man for himself, too, and we shall be very unsettled until our Government makes a move and puts a few men-of-war on the station for the protection of the mercantile folk. My brother and several more are bestirring themselves, however, and I hope something will be done before long."

"But you will take the lead, sir, while you stay, of course," said Blunt rather coldly. "As you see, I am weak."

"I shall do nothing of the kind, Blunt. My brother and I are only too well satisfied with your management. I have come here to help to take care of Nephew Stanley, and when the care is not necessary I am going to have a rest, fis.h.i.+ng, botanising, and shooting--in other words, to have a spell of idleness, for I don't think you will be attacked again after the taste you have given the miscreants of our quality here at the _hong_. Now then, Blunt," he added, "are you satisfied?"

The manager hesitated and still looked doubtful, but the look that accompanied Uncle Jeff's outstretched hand was sufficient, and he brightened up at once.

"Yes, sir," he said warmly--"quite."

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

"WAIT TILL THE WRETCHES COME."

The landing and stowing away of the cases of ammunition did not last long, for every one joined in it, four men without orders taking charge of a box that one could have carried with ease. In fact, they looked more like a party of schoolboys bringing boxes of fireworks for a fete than stern, energetic men fighting for the privilege of either carrying or simply watching the little chests, the possession of which turned them from helpless, unprotected beings, at the mercy of the next piratical crew that came down the river, to strong, vigorous folk ready for a fleet of junks and eager to fight to any desperate end.

The last case was placed in the little magazine, the trap-door shut down and locked, and then there was a burst of cheering which sounded stifled in the great stack-filled store.

"Why, I thought at one time," said Uncle Jeff merrily when the whole party had filed out and the speaker was seated in Blunt's private room, "that they were all going to break out in a triumphal war-dance."

Stan coloured and laughed.

"Well, uncle," he said, "the men were so excited that I don't see that I, a boy, need mind owning how I felt. It was something like what one used to experience when one had a present years and years ago."

"What!--ready to jump for joy, Stan?"

"Yes, uncle."

"I know the feeling," said Uncle Jeff, chuckling. "I remember just as well as if it was yesterday. Ready to jump for joy; just, too, when I was so weak from some fever that if I had been out of bed my legs wouldn't have borne me, let alone jumped. I remember it was fine summer weather, and my father had come down from London and brought me a new fis.h.i.+ng-rod--a perfect marvel to my young eyes--reddish-yellow bamboo, with bra.s.s ferrules, and having one joint fitting beautifully into the other so as to form a walking-stick; and in addition, just as he had brought them and had them bundled up together in a parcel, there was quite a heap of treasures tangled up together on the big sheet of paper spread out upon the white counterpane, while I sat up with two pillows to support my weak back. Oh, it was grand!

"Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled the great stalwart fellow, with his eyes lighting up. "Didn't I have the window opened so that I could pull joint out from joint and put them together, making the rod grow till I sat holding it out through the drawn-up sash. All the time I was seeing in imagination the great pond sheltered by the willows where the water-lilies grew and the carp and tench sailed about underneath, every now and then lifting a broad dark-green leaf or thrusting a stem aside, with the glistening beetles gliding about on the surface as if they were playing at engine-turning and describing beautiful geometric figures as the big dragon-flies rustled their gauzy wings and darted here and there in chase of flies.

"Then, too, I remember that I cried out against the window being shut, because three parts of my rod stood out in the open while I was busy examining a hank of Indian twist, beautiful steel-blue hooks of all sizes, from tiny ones on gut to big, quaintly shaped large ones, loose, but with eyes for attachment to the whipcord-like eel-line."

Uncle Jeff stopped short and turned with a droll look at his nephew.

"Here, Stan," he said, "you had better stop me or I shall go on with my rigmarole about that line with the blue-and-white cork float and the other with a quill, besides the one with the sharp-pointed porcupine which stuck through the bedclothes into my leg. Then there was the box of split shot with the lid which stuck, and when I got it off the contents jumped out, to go everywhere, over the bed, into it, under it, rattling between the jug and basin, and had to be hunted out. Then there was that lovely landing-net that was so rarely required for a big fish, but did splendidly to catch b.u.t.terflies. And the fis.h.i.+ng-creel, too, and--Here, Blunt, my dear fellow, where's your box of Manilla cigars?--Stan, get me a light. I must put something in my mouth or I shall begin to tell you both about that little pike that I didn't catch and that big carp that I did--I mean the one that seemed to my boyish eyes as if he wore a suit of armour made of young half-sovereigns overlapping one another from tail to head. Ah, Stan!" cried Uncle Jeff, "you're a lucky young dog to be a boy, though you don't know it, and never will till you grow up to be a man."

"Why, uncle," cried Stan, "haven't I just had to play at being a man and handle the rifle?"

"I'm sorry to say yes, my lad, and I'd a great deal rather have heard that you had spent your time wandering on the banks of this splendid river, catching nothing, perhaps, but filling your young mind with things to remember when you grow old. Ah! life's a very lovely thing if human beings would not spoil it as they do."

Stan smiled at his uncle's words, but he did not see life in the same light after his experiences at Hai-Hai and at the _hong_; though he was quite ready to agree as to the way in which men spoil the world, and he did say this, very tersely, later on:

"Especially Chinese pirates, uncle."

"Just so, my boy. But really it is all so beautiful here," said Uncle Jeff, "that now I have been refreshed and feel rested, it is more than ever hard to believe what a desperate fight you have had. I wish I had been here."

"So do I, uncle," said Stan merrily; but he turned serious the next moment. "No, I do not, uncle. It was very horrible, and you might have been shot."

"Oh, I don't know, Stan. You and your men escaped pretty well.

However, matters were best as they were--eh, Blunt?"

"Certainly," said the manager. "The defence could not have been in better hands."

"Oh, don't!" cried Stan, speaking like a pettish girl. "Now you are both sneering at me."

This was of course denied, but the lad was only half-convinced, and too glad to hear the conversation take a different turn.