Long before this, though, the attendant had brought us three tiny gla.s.ses of white spirit, which we tossed off eagerly, with the result that the qualmish sensations pa.s.sed away; but no recommendations on the part of our guide could induce us to touch anything that followed, saving sundry preparations of rice and fruit, which were excellent.

The dinner over, Ching took us about the garden to inspect the lilies in pots, the gold and silver fish, fat and wonderfully shaped, which glided about in the tanks and ponds, and then led us into a kind of arbour, where, beneath a kind of wooden eave, an instrument was hanging from a peg. It was not a banjo, for it was too long; and it was not a guitar, for it was too thin, and had not enough strings; but it was something of the kind, and evidently kept there for the use of musically-disposed visitors.

"You likee music?" said Ching.

"Oh yes," I replied dubiously, as I sat using the telescope, gazing right away over the lower part of the town at the winding river, with its crowds of craft.

"Why, he isn't going to play, is he?" whispered Smith. "We don't want to hear that. Let's go out in the town."

"Don't be in such a hurry," replied Barkins. "The sun's too hot. I say, our dinner wasn't such a very great success, was it?"

Smith shook his head, and just then Ching began to tune the instrument, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the pegs up and down, and producing the most lugubrious sounds, which somehow made me begin to think of home, and how strange it was to be sitting there in a place which seemed like part of a picture, listening to the Chinese guide.

I had forgotten the unpleasantry of the dinner in the beauty of the scene, for there were abundance of flowers, the sky was of a vivid blue, and the sun shone down brilliantly, and made the distant water of the river sparkle.

Close by there were the Chinese people coming and going in their strange costume; a busy hum came through the open windows; and I believe that in a few minutes I should have been asleep, if Ching had not awakened me by his vigorous onslaught upon the instrument, one of whose pegs refused to stay in exactly the right place as he kept on tuning.

Then a little more s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up.

_Peng_, _peng_, _pang_--_pong_.

Ching stopped, nursed the instrument upon his knee as if it were a baby, pulled out the offending peg as if it were a tooth, moistened the hole, replaced the peg, and began again--screw, screw, screw.

Just a quarter of a tone out still, and he tried again diligently, while my eyes half closed, and the Tanner and Blacksmith both nodded in the heat.

Right at last; and Ching threw himself back so that his mouth would open to the widest extent, struck a chord on the three strings, and burst forth with celestial accompaniment into what was in all probability a pa.s.sionate serenade, full of allusions to nightingales, moonbeams, dew-wet roses, lattice-windows, and beautiful moon-faced maidens, but which sounded to me like--

"Ti ope I ow wow, Ti ope I ow yow, Ti ope I ow tow, Ti ope I ligh."

The words, I say, sounded like that: the music it would be impossible to give, for the whole blended together into so lamentable a howl, that both Barkins and Smith started up into wakefulness from a deep sleep, and the former looked wildly round, as confused and wondering he exclaimed--

"What's matter?"

As for Smith, he seemed to be still half-asleep, and he sat up, staring blankly at the performer, who kept on howling--I can call it nothing else--in the most doleful of minor keys.

"I say," whispered Barkins, "did you set him to do that?"

I shook my head.

"Because--oh, just look! here are all the people coming out to see what's the matter."

He was right as to the people coming, for in twos and threes, as they finished the refreshment of which they had been partaking, first one path was filled and then another, the people coming slowly up and stopping to listen, while Barkins stared at them in blank astonishment.

"Here Nat--Poet," he whispered, "look at 'em."

"I am looking," I said. "Isn't it just like a picture?"

"It's like an old firescreen," he said; "but I don't mean that. Look!

Hang me if the beggars don't seem to like it. Can't you stop him?"

"No, of course not."

"But how long will it be before he has run down?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "But look, aren't those like some of the men we saw by the gates?"

I drew his attention to about half-a-dozen fierce-looking men in showy coats and lacquered hats, who came up to the garden, stared hard at us, and then walked in. Each of them, I noticed, wore a sword, and a kind of dagger stuck in his belt, and this made me at once recall their offensive looks and contemptuous manner towards us, and think of how far we were away from the ship, and unarmed, save for the ornamental dirks which hung from our belts, weapons that would have been, even if we had known how to use them, almost like short laths against the Chinamen's heavy, broad-bladed, and probably sharp swords.

"I say, Gnat," whispered Barkins, "those must be the chaps we saw at the mandarin's gate. Never mind; we'll ask them to have something as soon as old Ching has finished his howling."

But that did not seem likely to be for some time, and I began to think, as I sat there noticing how the men were gradually closing in upon us, that our position was not very safe, right away from the landing-place, and that we had done wrong in stopping so long where we were. I knew that the Chinese were obsequious and humble enough so long as they were face to face with a stronger power, but if they had the upper hand, cruel and merciless to any one not of their own nation, and that it was wiser to give them a wide berth.

Then I began to think that the captain had been too ready to believe in our prestige in giving us leave to go, and that we should have been wiser if we had stayed on board. Finally, I had just come to the conclusion that we ought to stop Ching in his howling or singing, which grew more and more vehement as he saw that his audience was increasing, when Smith jogged my elbow.

"I say," he whispered, "let's get away from here."

"Why?" I said, to get to know what he thought.

"Because I'm afraid those chaps with the swords mean mischief."

"I say, lads," said Barkins, leaning towards us, "aren't those chaps crowding us up rather? What do they mean? Here, I'm senior, and the skipper said I was to take care of you youngsters. We'll go back to the wharf at once."

"What's the good?" said Smith. "The boat won't be there to fetch us off till sundown."

"Never mind, let's get away from here," said Barkins decisively; "we don't want to get in a row with the Chinese, and that's what they want."

"But they're quiet enough," I said, growing nervous all the while.

"Yes, they're quiet enough now," whispered Barkins; "but you look at that big fellow with the yellow belt, he keeps on making faces at us."

"Let him; that will not hurt us."

"I know that, little stupid," he cried, "but what follows may. Look at him now."

I looked up quickly, and saw the man turn away from looking at us, and say something to his fierce-looking companions, who glanced towards us and laughed.

"There," said Barkins, "I'm not going to be laughed at by those jolly old pigtailed heathens. Here, Ching, old chap, we want to go."

As he spoke he gave our guide a sharp nudge, which made him turn round and stare.

"Ti--ope--I--ow!"