Missee Lee: The Swallows and Amazons in the China Seas Read online

There was more tapping from below, this time a long message.

  “Let … them … take … us … into … port. … Then … we … get hold … of somebody … telegraph … warn … all shipping … look out … for … them. … I … know … exact … position. … Probably … these … chaps … hurry … to … get … home.”

  Nancy tapped again. “I … can … not … smell … any … fish. …”

  “May be trader,” the answer came back.

  Nancy began again, banging on the floor. “If I don’t look out I’ll be taking all the skin off my knuckles.” She banged away with her left hand instead of her right and, in the middle of a message, stopped short. Neither she nor Peggy had heard the door open, but, under the light of the lantern, a Chinese with a cartridge-belt and pistol-holster slung over his short jacket, and a black skull-cap on his head, was standing looking down at them.

  They scrambled to their feet.

  The Chinese bowed, waved them towards the bench on one side of the cabin and himself sat down facing them.

  “Captain,” he said, bowing.

  For once Nancy did not know what to say. How long had he been there? Did he know they had been talking with Captain Flint?

  The door opened and another Chinese came in, carrying a short bamboo pipe which he handed to the seated captain. The captain put it to his lips. The other Chinese lit it for him and went out. The captain pulled at his pipe and blew out a little smoke.

  “How come?” he said at last, showing with a wave of his pipe that he meant, “What had they been doing to be out at sea in a small boat?”

  Nancy eagerly explained. She began talking very fast, telling of the voyage, of the burning of the Wild Cat, of the two little boats, of their hopes to be picked up … but, as she talked, watching the expressionless face of the Chinese, her words came more and more slowly, more and more loudly, more and more clearly. … She repeated a sentence. … She hesitated for a word. … She stopped.

  “Talkee English bimeby,” said the Chinese.

  “He doesn’t understand,” said Peggy.

  “I know that,” said Nancy desperately.

  “Try pictures,” said Peggy, and rummaging in a pocket brought out the stump of a pencil.

  Nancy took it and looked for something on which to draw. The Chinese watched her. He smiled. He clapped his hands. The door opened. The captain spoke in Chinese. A minute later a man came in with a thin board of white wood, which, at a sign from the captain, he gave to Nancy. Nancy, putting the board on the bench beside her, drew the schooner, Wild Cat, as she had so often drawn her on letters for home. Then she drew the schooner again with flames licking up the masts. Then, with tears in her eyes, she drew the stern of the Wild Cat just before it went under, and the two small boats, with the crew watching the end of their ship. Then she drew the two little boats alone at sea. … Then she drew one boat all by itself. She took the board to the captain and, with her pencil, pointed to the pictures one by one.

  The captain seemed to understand. When, last of all, she pointed to the picture of the Swallow, left alone, he looked aft and pointed with his pipe as if he could see through the cabin wall and the dark to the little boat tossing far astern.

  “Yes, yes,” cried Nancy, and showed that she wanted him to turn back and go and search for the others, but he held out his hands in a gesture that could not be mistaken. There was to be no going back. Nancy started talking again. He waited until she gave up.

  Then he pointed as if through the floor of the cabin.

  “Him mad,” he said.

  “But he isn’t,” cried Nancy.

  “Him mad,” he said again and then, pointing at Nancy and Peggy, he said, “Plisoners. … Talkee English, bimeby. …” He stood up, bowed and went out of the cabin into the darkness.

  “Pirates,” said Nancy. “I told you so.”

  “It’ll be all right if he’s taking us to someone who talks English,” said Peggy.

  The door opened for a moment and a Chinese came in with the bundle of sleeping-bags from Amazon. He went out.

  Nancy tried the door. It was again fastened from outside. She started banging on the floor again to tell Captain Flint what had happened. She got no answer.

  “He’s gone to sleep,” she said. “We’d better do the same. We can’t do anything else.”

  “What time is it?” asked Peggy.

  “Middle of the night I should think,” said Nancy. “Go on, Peg. You get all the sleep you can. I’m taking this corner. … Gosh, I do hope those others are all right. … But, I say, they’ll be pretty sick at being picked up by a liner when they hear what’s happened to us. I knew at once. I was dead sure that was a cannon. …”

  II

  THE PIRATE JUNK

  “Chiu fan!”

  Nancy and Peggy stirred on their benches. What had happened to their comfortable cabin in the Wild Cat? Why were they not sleeping in their bunks, one above another? Where were they?

  “Chiu fan!”

  A Chinese was standing in the doorway, pointing to a large bowl of rice he had put on the floor. As soon as he saw that they were awake he went out, closing the door behind him. Nancy rubbing a painful hip-bone, sat up.

  “Breakfast,” she said. “Show a leg. It’s morning. I don’t believe I’ve been asleep five minutes. I say, it’s not blowing like it was.”

  Though the door was closed, light was streaming through a small square window which must have been shuttered during the night.

  Four chopsticks, like long pencils, were stuck in the rice, but after a trial or two, they found they were too hungry to use them, and taking turns with the bowl, scooped rice into their mouths with bent forefingers.

  “Wonder if Uncle Jim’s got his,” said Peggy.

  At that moment they heard the call sign, tapping away from somewhere in the bottom of the ship. Nancy answered. In a few minutes they had learnt that Captain Flint had had a good breakfast, that he could not see out, that he was pretty sure the ship was a trading junk, and that as soon as they got to port the captain would get into trouble for shutting him up. Captain Flint, for his part, had learnt that they too were filling up with rice, that Nancy was sure the ship was not a trader, that she had hurt her knee by bumping into a cannon, and that the reason she had stopped signalling last night was because the captain of the junk had caught her at it. “What about Swallow?” Nancy tapped.

  “Cannot do anything till we get to port,” came the answer. “No wireless aboard these traders.”

  “Pirates,” tapped Nancy.

  “O.K.,” tapped Captain Flint.

  They had just finished the rice when the man came in again with two smaller bowls on a tray. He put the tray on the floor and took away the empty rice bowl and the chopsticks.

  “Tea,” said Nancy, sniffing.

  “Pretty weak,” said Peggy. “And no milk.”

  “No sugar,” said Nancy.

  All the same, the rice had made them thirsty and the tea, if not sweet, was wet. They drank, made faces, and drank again. Presently the man came in, looked into the empty bowls and made them understand that he wanted to know if they would like some more.

  “No, thank you,” they said, shaking their heads.

  He went away, but, this time, left the cabin door open and, hooking it back, showed that he was not doing it by mistake.

  “Come on,” said Nancy.

  *

  They went out into brilliant sunshine. The sea had gone down. Everywhere were green waves with little rippling white crests. There was no land in sight, nor any other vessel. They were on the deck of a large Chinese junk. Above their heads was the huge brown mainsail, ribbed across by bamboo battens. In some places the sail had been patched. Flourbags had been used for the patches and it was odd to read on them the names of English or American millers. Sitting on the yard, steadying himself with an arm round the mast, was a half-naked sailor. Nancy looked for the flag. There was none, but a long wisp of a scarlet pennant floated out from the
masthead. Forward, above the cabin in which they had been shut up, they could see a smaller sail of the same kind. There was another, high above the poop-deck. On each side of the deck there were three large lumps covered with brown matting, and on the starboard side there was Amazon, firmly lashed against the bulwarks.

  “She’s all right,” said Peggy.

  But Nancy was looking at those odd-shaped lumps.

  “Guns,” she said. “Cannon. I told you so.”

  “No,” said Peggy.

  “Galoot,” said Nancy. “Use your eyes. … I bet that’s the one I bumped into. You can see a bit of it peeping out.”

  Half a dozen Chinese, naked to the waist, were sitting on the deck, playing cards. They looked up, but soon had seen all they wanted, and went on with their game.

  “They don’t mind us being out,” said Nancy. “Look! There’s the captain, by the steersman. Let’s go up there and get him to let Uncle Jim out too.”

  The captain, in his black skull-cap, was sitting on a little stool built against the low rail. He was watching the helmsman swaying to and fro on an enormously long tiller, and glancing now at a compass and now at the horizon far ahead.

  Nancy lost no time in saying what she had to say. Why was Captain Flint not on deck? Where was he? Would the captain please let him out at once?

  The captain waited till she was out of breath. He smiled politely and said, “Talkee English bimeby.”

  Nancy started again, slower. The captain must have understood what she wanted, for he said, “Him too much stlong,” smiled happily, and repeated, “Talkee English bimeby.”

  “Can’t be helped,” said Nancy to Peggy. “They got a fright when Uncle Jim went savage last night. But we’re going somewhere where he’ll be able to talk English and explain. Perhaps they aren’t pirates after all. …” Her voice was almost regretful. “Those guns. … Perhaps they have to carry guns in case of meeting Missee Lee.”

  “Where’s all the crew?” said Peggy. “There were dozens last night. And now there’s nobody except the captain and the steersman and those men playing cards.”

  “And the look-out,” said Nancy, pointing to the masthead.

  As she said it, there was a shout. The look-out had scrambled to his feet and was standing on the yard with one arm stretched out like a signpost, while he clung to the mast with the other.

  “Land, I expect,” said Nancy.

  “I can’t see anything.”

  “I can’t either.”

  But they saw that the captain had spoken to the steersman. The big junk changed course until the look-out, high overhead, was pointing directly over the bows. The card-players on deck were gathering up their cards. Men were pouring out from a door under the poop-deck. Some went to the foot of the foremast, some stayed at the foot of the main. Some came up on the poop. All were staring forward at that distant line where sea and sky met.

  Nearly half an hour later they saw what the look-out had seen, a small knob on the horizon. The junk sailed on and presently more land appeared stretching away on either side of the knob. The junk sailed on. They could see a long line of rocky coast with hills behind it. The men now kept turning to look at the captain, who sat there, watching the land grow nearer. Suddenly he spoke. Men were busy with the foresail sheets and with the sheets of the little mizen above the poop-deck. The junk lost way.

  “Gosh!” said Nancy. “They’re heaving to. Whatever for? Just when we’re in a hurry to get to a harbour.”

  The junk was hardly moving. From the way in which all the men kept staring now at the land and now at the look-out perched like a monkey at the masthead, it was clear that they were waiting for something. Nancy and Peggy stared at the land like everybody else.

  “Wonder if he knows?” said Nancy at last and pulled Peggy by the sleeve.

  They went forward through the Chinese sailors, who seemed hardly to notice them, and into the cabin where they had slept. They had hardly crossed the threshold before they heard an anxious question being tapped from down below them.

  “Wind dropped?”

  “Hove to,” Nancy tapped back. “In sight of land.”

  “Damn!” tapped Captain Flint, paused a moment and tapped again. … “Bother!”

  Nancy laughed.

  “They’ve seen something,” said Peggy.

  Nancy stamped on the floor of the cabin by way of saying good-bye, and ran out. What was everybody looking at? Far away, sails were passing close under the land … junk sails … one, two, three, four junks, a little fleet sailing along the coast. An order rang out. Foresail and mizen were brought across. All three sails of their own junk were pulling again. They were heading in.

  “Giminy, but she can sail,” said Nancy, as the spray flew from under the bows. “And there isn’t all that much wind, either.”

  “Look, look. … I told you they were guns.”

  Gun after gun was being cleared of the matting that had covered it. Sweating, half-naked Chinese were ramming things into the brass muzzles, and pouring black powder into the touch-holes. They were joking with each other and patting the old brass guns as if they loved them.

  “Gosh,” said Nancy. “She is a pirate … sailing to cut them off. That must be a cape, that bit we saw first. They’d have to tack to get back. Look at the way we’re heading, keeping to windward of them. We’ve got them. … Here, I say!”

  She and Peggy found themselves suddenly seized, run across the deck and pushed into their cabin. The door was fastened, and a shutter from outside slammed on the window.

  “What a beastly shame.” A little light came through cracks between the shutter and the frame of the window, but it was impossible to see out. Nancy began to tap a message to Captain Flint, but he interrupted her at once by tapping back.

  “Shut up,” he tapped. “I’m trying to make up on lost sleep.”

  “What’s going to happen?” asked Peggy.

  “We’re going to miss it, anyhow,” said Nancy, and hammered at the door.

  Nobody came. The excited chatter on deck had come to an end. There was silence, except for the rushing of the junk through the water and the quick splash, splash from under her bows. They waited, Peggy more and more worried, Nancy angrier and angrier. “We may never have another chance in all our lives,” she said.

  An hour passed. There was not a sound on deck. It was as if they were sailing on a deserted ship. Then, at last, they heard an order.

  BANG!

  A gun had been fired from the foredeck, above their heads.

  Peggy grabbed at Nancy’s hand, as Nancy at the shuttered window was searching for a crack through which to see.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Three guns went off from the deck just outside.

  Peggy choked with a sob.

  “Don’t be a tame galoot!” said Nancy fiercely. “We’re firing. You’ve got nothing to worry about. That’s guns, not thunder!”

  Minute after minute passed and nothing happened except that once they heard the running of bare feet overhead. Suddenly they heard someone shouting, not aboard the junk but not far off. An answer was shouted from close by their cabin door. They heard orders given and a sudden stampede along the deck. There was a tremendous groaning crunch.

  “Rammed one of them,” said Nancy. “No. We must have grappled. Oh, Giminy, giminy, I wish I could see out.”

  There was a noise now like that of a crowd at a boat-race. A huge booming voice sounded above the din which quieted to a sort of twittering.

  “Our captain’s got a megaphone,” said Nancy.

  The next noise was of luggage coming aboard. There was talk, some laughter, the slam of a hatch. Then there was the noise of straining ropes, an order, the crunch of ship against ship. Then, once more, the ordinary noise of a vessel moving through the water, and some cheerful chattering on deck.

  A tapping came from below.

  “Got a stable companion,” tapped Captain Flint. “Funny fellow. … Chinese. … Gibbering with fright.
… Called me Missee Lee. …”

  “We are locked up again,” tapped Nancy. “I was right. I knew they were pirates.”

  “Who?” tapped Captain Flint.

  Some time later, a Chinese, grinning happily, brought them some rice and chopped chicken. Through the open door they caught a glimpse of a high coast, rocks dropping sheer to the sea, or into green forest along the water’s edge. They were not allowed on deck again, but after the man had brought them some tea, Nancy made him understand that they were asking at least to have the shutter taken from the window. He went off, fastening the door behind him, but presently someone came and opened the shutter from outside. Even so, they could not see much through that small square hole. It was only looking sideways through it that they could get glimpses of the coast and knew that they were still sailing close along it.

  The afternoon wore on. At dusk the motion of the junk changed and they knew that they were in smooth water. Less and less light came through the little window. It grew dark and Nancy was thinking of banging on the door in the hope of getting someone to bring them a light.

  Suddenly there was a lot of cheerful shouting, the noise of oars in the water, and a lot of loud bangs.

  “Guns again?” said Peggy.

  “Fireworks,” said Nancy. “We’ve got there, wherever it is.”

  There was the creaking of a windlass and then a heavy splash. “Anchoring,” said Nancy. “Can’t see any lights ashore, but they’ve got a lot on deck.”

  A boat bumped alongside and then another. There was a lot of talk on deck. People were moving about the ship.

  “Gosh, what are they doing?” said Nancy. “They’re putting Amazon over the side. They’ll have every bit of varnish off. I just got a squint. …” She banged furiously on the door, but nobody took any notice.

  Suddenly they heard Captain Flint tapping a message. “Nancy. If they ask questions leave the talking to me. You may be right. I’ve had a visitor. Called himself a Taicoon. So I said I was Lord Mayor of San Francisco. Just in case. … Give him something to think about. …”