Part 6

He had arranged for A Tsi to follow him, and presently that invaluable comprador came rapidly along in a tumble-down double rickshaw, still in his coolie dress and with a big bundle under his arm.

After much haggling with the rickshaw man, who did not appreciate the extra weight of Ping Sang's fat little person, the old sportsman got up beside A Tsi, and the coolie drew them along, sweating and grunting.

Half a mile before they arrived at Aberdeen the busy little bay, crowded with native shipping, came in sight, and A Tsi pointed out to his companion two very large junks lashed together in the middle of the harbour.

"These are the two from Amoy. They came in two days ago, and have not yet discharged any cargo. In fact they don't seem to have any," said A Tsi. "If you will wait by the landing-place I will go off to the junks under pretence of selling this bundle of ready-made clothes, and try and find out more about them."

They stopped the rickshaw some hundred yards from the centre of the village, paid their grumbling coolie, and then Ping Sang trudged down to the landing-place with his baskets of sugar-canes, and squatted by the road-side, in spite of the hostile looks of the vendors already there.

A Tsi followed at some distance, got into a _sampan_, and was sculled out to the junks.

Ping Sang watched him clambering over the ship's sides; but almost immediately afterwards he noticed that a scuffle was going on and saw A Tsi thrown overboard, and, missing his boat underneath, fall with a splash into the sea, bundle and all. He swam ashore easily and scrambled up the beach with a very rueful countenance, amidst the shrieks of laughter of the coolies along the sea-shore, who had gathered to see the fun.

As he passed Ping Sang he made a previously agreed-upon sign, which meant that the Englishman was aboard, then he entered an eating-house across the road.

Hardly had A Tsi disappeared when a rickshaw came rushing up, a Chinaman jumped out, threw a piece of silver on the ground and ran down to the water's edge, got into a _sampan_, and urged the boatman to hurry off to the same two junks. Ping Sang just caught a glimpse of his face and it seemed familiar, but where he had seen it before he could not think. He watched him board the junks, and wondered whether he too would meet the same rough treatment; but he did not reappear--he evidently belonged to them.

The old gentleman racked his brains, but could not, try as he would, remember that face.

An hour went by, the bell at the little dockyard rang out, and the workmen poured out to their dinner, and Ping Sang, after his unaccustomed exercise, felt very hungry, and longed for his usual luxurious lunch and Manilla cigar. He even felt annoyed that he, one of the smartest business men in the Chinese empire, should be such a failure as a hawker, for no one would buy from him. In desperation, hunger overcame his disgust, and he munched one of his own sugar-canes, smiling grimly to himself at the unappetizing meal. Presently the crowd was scattered by a double coolie rickshaw. The men, in gaudy uniform, stopped close to him, and shortly afterwards, for he kept his eyes on the junks all the time, he saw a European in a white helmet climb down into a boat alongside and come towards the shore.

The _sampan_ rasped against the shore, and the white man stepped out and slowly limped up the sloping landing-place, scanning the faces of the men on either side.

Ping Sang's surmise was correct. He was one of the three men--the Englishman of the "Mysterious Three"--whom he had mentioned in his first letter to Helston--the most reckless adventurer of the lot.

Ping Sang thought there was little chance of his being recognized, but took the precaution of pulling his broad hat over his eyes and bending down over his baskets. It struck him too that his shoulders and back were not grimed and blackened with the sun, and he was hastily pulling his dirty tunic over them, when he was prodded heavily in the stomach, his hat was knocked off, and standing above him was the Englishman, bursting with laughter.

"Ask this man for his license!" shouted the Englishman, and a big Sikh policeman did so. Ping Sang had not one--the one thing he had forgotten in his "make-up"--and he fumbled in his belt to give himself time to think. Out rolled two of his favourite cigars, wrapped in silver paper (he had kept them to smoke on the way back after dark), and they were worth more than a hawker could earn in a month.

He grabbed them hurriedly, but the policeman was too sharp for him, and hauled him to his feet with an unmerciful twist of his pigtail.

"Robber! thief!" grunted the highly amused crowd, which had now flocked round them.

Poor old Ping Sang was dumfounded, and though ready for most emergencies when dressed in his usual clothes, had now not a word to say. In fact, thoughts and words do not come quickly when your scalp is being nearly torn off at every move.

The crowd made way as the huge Sikh shoved his way through, and Ping Sang had perforce to follow, vainly trying to ease the strain on his pigtail.

The Englishman came with them to the police station and charged him with stealing the cigars, and before Ping Sang knew what had happened a pair of handcuffs were snapped on his wrists and he was shut up in a room. As the door closed behind him he heard the Englishman say to the sergeant in charge:

"That's a double-dyed villain, sergeant; was a servant of mine once; had to get rid of him for prigging my things. There's another of them somewhere about, and if you'll lend me a couple of your men I'll have him here in no time."

Poor old Ping Sang's heart went to his feet, for if A Tsi too were caught, no one would know what had become of them. They might be in jail for a week or more before being identified, and meanwhile Helston's ships would arrive, and no word of warning could reach them except from Ho Ming, who, he well knew, was useless in any emergency.

A Tsi, however, had seen the whole incident from an upper window of the eating-house, where he had had his clothes dried.

The affair was evidently premeditated. Somebody must have given information as to Ping Sang's presence there, and no doubt remained that this European with a limp was the Englishman whom Ping Sang, the previous night, had said he probably knew.

Now the old man was under arrest, and till he could be identified and released any plan of action would be delayed, and so much time would be gained by the pirate syndicate.

It was useless his going to the police station and stating that the dirty old hawker was no other than the wealthiest merchant in China and the president of the Trading Association, for he himself was a dirty, disreputable-looking object, and would be probably clapped in jail as an accomplice.

No; he must get back to Ho Ming as quickly as possible.

He crept down the rickety stairs and was just going out into the street, when he saw the European with a couple of Sikh policemen coming straight towards the house, led by some gesticulating men who had seen him go in there.

It flashed across his mind that whoever had seen Ping Sang had seen them together, that he was now going to be caught on some trumpery charge, and he knew well enough that, unless he could escape, their predicament might not be known for weeks.

He made his way to the back of the house, but the inn-keeper, already suspicious of him, barred the way, and he fled up the unguarded stairs again, looking eagerly for some place in which to hide, but the rooms were as bare as a barn. He then ran to the rear windows to see if he could jump to the ground; but even if he did so, there was no escape from the yard behind, for two walls, too high to climb, ran back to the face of the hill, which here was cut in a perpendicular cliff.

Already he heard the tramp of heavy boots up the stairs, and, in desperation, was about to jump and chance scaling the walls, when he suddenly noticed that next to this house was a small temple or joss-house, and that a grotesque carving at the corner of one of the projecting eaves stuck out within jumping distance. Once he was on the roof of the temple he might climb across to some lower buildings behind, and might possibly find some place to hide himself.

It was his only chance; so without a second thought he kicked off his shoes, clambered like a monkey to the roof above him, crawled to the edge, balanced himself unsteadily, and sprang for the gilded dragon seven or eight feet away from him.

As he sprang he came in view of the street and heard a yell from the crowd; but it only made him grip more firmly as he fell on the grinning dragon, the rotten wood creaking and cracking as he drew himself on to the top of the joss-house.

Moving cautiously along, he jumped to the lower buildings behind, and saw, to his great joy, that they were built right up against the cliffs, which were here much less abrupt and might possibly give some foothold. If he could but climb to the top he would be able to reach Ho Ming across the mountain; so, clinging to bushes and clumps of grass, pulling himself up from rock to rock, he painfully made his way upwards. Looking over his shoulder, he saw one of the Sikh police following him. The man jumped from the roof of the eating-house to the joss-house; but the dragon, already cracked, broke under his weight, and he fell into the court-yard beneath.

This gave A Tsi a momentary start, for they now could only get on to the roof by climbing the pillars in front of the joss-house, and this was a difficult thing to do.

The crowd in the street began throwing stones at him and several struck him, but in desperation he clambered up and up, forcing his bruised toes into every crevice that would give foothold, now slipping and sending down a shower of stones, now gaining a yard or two. His hands were bleeding and numb with pain as he fought his way, till with a gasp of relief he wriggled and wormed his way to the top, and with a last effort swung himself over the edge and rolled breathless into some bushes.

Cautiously peering over the edge, he saw several coolies clambering after him, whilst the Englishman and the Sikhs encouraged their efforts from below.

Once they reached the top he knew that he would be captured in no time, for with his naked feet and want of training he could not hope to distance these sturdy coolies in a chase over the mountain-side.

As he clutched the edge, wondering what best to do, he accidentally dislodged a stone. It rolled down and made the climbers hesitate. Instantly seeing his opportunity, he wildly tore at everything he could loosen and hurled it down on his pursuers. The foremost was hit on the hand, and slid some feet before he could steady himself. Another had his eyes filled with earth and sand, and then with great relief A Tsi saw them all retreat, slipping and sliding to the roof of the joss-house, in spite of the threats and cajoling of the police.

Then he saw the crowd streaming along the road, and knew his pursuers would climb up some other way. Getting on his feet, he began painfully pushing his way up the thickly wooded side of the mountain slopes. He was now free from immediate danger, but must reach Ho Ming without a moment's delay. He dare not descend to the main road, because the police would be certain to be on the watch for him, besides which he dare not go into the town till after dark, for he was bleeding from many cuts, and his clothes were in tatters.

It was a terribly long way and terribly hard work to climb the mountain to the Peak, but he must do it and wait till dark before striking one of the roads running down to his master's house.

Hour after hour he climbed painfully and slowly, getting his directions from the sun, and occasionally catching glimpses of the harbour beneath him.

Presently he came to a large clearing, breasted the slope in front, and saw the whole panorama of the harbour below him glistening in the sun, and the dark mountain ranges of the mainland looming behind it. The tiny boats moving backwards and forwards were the ferry-boats to Kowloon, and like toy ships lay several English cruisers.

As he stood panting with his exertions, the boom of a gun came up from below, then another and another at regular intervals. A man-of-war saluting! He searched the harbour below him, but saw no sign of powder smoke. Quickly he glanced towards the narrow waters of the Lyemoon Pass, knowing that through this entrance men-of-war usually arrived, and then from a little black, moving object on the water he saw a tiny ball of white smoke shoot out, and presently the report came gently up to him. Nineteen he counted, then twenty and twenty-one, and understood enough to know that it was a foreign man-of-war saluting the British flag.

Throwing himself down on the coarse grass, he watched the black speck moving nearer and nearer, and as it emerged from the dark shadows of the Lyemoon Pass, he saw that it was followed by five others, the last three mere dots on the sea.

Gradually the little squadron become more distinct, and he was able to distinguish two cruisers with masts and military tops leading, a merchant ship with short, stumpy funnel, and then three destroyers. At last Helston's squadron had arrived, a day before it was expected, and, unless he could give warning, the ships would run the greatest danger before night was over.

Not a moment was to be lost, so painfully he pushed on, crawling round rocks and shoving his way through the undergrowth till he came to the outskirts of the villas on top of the Peak. Creeping behind garden walls and thick hedges, he made his way, without being seen, to the belt of trees and bushes which ran by the side of the road, among which he hoped to conceal himself till dusk made it possible for him to descend to his master's house.

Fortune, however, favoured him, for who should he see wobbling down as fast as his fat little legs could carry him but that merry little tailor Hong Sing, with a great bundle of clothes under his arm. He knew him well, and called him by name as he came near. The little man gave a frightened look round, and would have made off had not A Tsi seized him by the arm and pulled him into the bushes.

When Hong Sing had calmed down he hurriedly explained matters.

Luckily the little man was returning from trying on some clothes for a customer, and had in his bundle enough clothes to rig A Tsi as a respectable-looking butler. He had no shoes, but Hong Sing knew where he could borrow a pair from a house close by, and within half an hour A Tsi was walking boldly down the road with his escort.

As they neared Ho Ming's residence A Tsi stayed behind, whilst Hong Sing went on to reconnoitre; but all was safe, and at last the faithful comprador had finished the first part of his task.

Ho Ming had already returned from his office, but it was very difficult to make him act energetically. Like most Chinamen, he had the utmost fear of the law and those who administered it. He was more polite and obsequious to a police sergeant than to the wealthiest merchant in the colony, and it was a long time before A Tsi could persuade him to take immediate steps for the release of Ping Sang. He had not even heard of the arrival of the squadron, and walked rapidly up and down the room bemoaning the absence of Ping Sang and his own helplessness. "What can I do? What can I do?" was all he could say.

"You go at once to the Chief of Police and bail out Mr. Ping Sang; they will do it for you. Get them to telegraph to Aberdeen to send him up to head-quarters with an escort. Write a letter to Captain Helston before you go, and I'll take it aboard and warn him of his danger."

"Yes, yes; we ought to do that," faltered Ho Ming, already trembling at the prospect of interviewing the Chief of Police, and sat down to write a letter, whilst A Tsi went away to change his butler's clothes for some of his master's.

With the letter in his pocket, A Tsi hired a chair with four sturdy coolies, and was soon carried down to Murray Pier, off which the little squadron was now at anchor, and, taking a _sampan_, pulled alongside the _Laird_.

*CHAPTER IX*

*Captain Helston Wounded*

Ping Sang Kidnapped--Cummins gives Advice--A Narrow Escape--Helston's Fears--A Futile Search--An Exchange of Prisoners

_The Narrative is continued by Dr. Fox_

We arrived at Hong-Kong on the afternoon of December 22, after an uneventful voyage from Singapore, and received permission to moor at Admiralty buoys.

Helston expected Ping Sang to come aboard immediately, and was rather upset that he did not appear. He is still very nervous and irritable, and the chilly evening made him complain again of his rheumatism, though he certainly seems much improved in health and spirits since he shook off the Patagonian destroyers, and has, so far, brought his ships in safety.

He and I were smoking in his after-cabin, and making up our minds as to whether we would wait any longer for Ping Sang or go ashore, dine at the Club, and afterwards try and find the old gentleman, when Pritchard, the officer of the watch, brought down a letter.

Helston hastily tore it open. I saw at once that it contained bad news, but he handed it to me without saying a word, and rang for the quarter-master to bring down the messenger.

The letter was from a Mr. Ho Ming, of whom we had never heard.

"DEAR CAPTAIN HELSTON,

"I do not know what to say. My comprador brings you this, and you may trust him. His name is A Tsi. He knows all. You are in the greatest danger. Mr. Ping Sang has been thrown into prison this afternoon, and there is a fearful conspiracy to sink your ships. In great haste and distress,

"Yours respectfully, "HO MING."

Hardly had I read it before the bearer of the letter was shown in--an honest-looking Chinaman, not marked by small-pox. He appeared exhausted, was much scratched about the face and hands, and I saw that a patch of blood had soaked through the right sleeve of his silk coat.

He told his story in a very direct, straightforward manner, and would not be disturbed in the telling of it, although Helston kept constantly asking him unnecessary questions, wanting to know the end of the yarn before he had barely started. I admired him for his pertinacity--though I generally detest Chinamen--and for his pluck, because he was evidently almost on the point of collapsing. In fact his legs nearly gave way under him several times, and at last I pushed a chair forward and made him sit down.

Helston seemed somewhat relieved when the story had been told, for, as a matter of fact, there was little enough evidence of immediate danger, and the thought of Ping Sang the sybarite shut up in jail as a common thief was somewhat amusing.

Hardly had he finished, though, before Pritchard came down from the quarter-deck followed by a native who was one of the tallest I have ever seen, and as thin as a lath. He was in an extremely excited condition, flopped down on a chair, said his name was Ho Ming, and began wringing his hands.

"Mr. Ping Sang has disappeared," he broke out; "gone, no one knows where. I go see Chief of Police and tell him who Ping Sang is. He perfectly satisfied if I will stand bail. Telephones to Aberdeen police station to have him sent up. They reply, 'The master of the man arrested this afternoon withdrew the charge and has taken him away'. What shall we do? What shall we do?"

He was in a state of most intense alarm, pitiful to see, even in a Chinaman.

"Phew!" ejaculated Helston, "that makes it more serious. Did they know where he had gone?"

"I no wait," whined Ho Ming. "I come to you quickly."

There was silence for some seconds whilst Helston and I looked at each other, for if Ping Sang had actually been kidnapped by this scoundrel of an Englishman, it was a most disastrous event for our expedition, because he was the head and brains of the Trading Association, and it was through him, and by means of his enormous credit throughout China, that the heavy expenses of the squadron had to be met.

Without him it was almost impossible to move, as I well knew that the funds with which Helston had in the first instance been supplied were well-nigh exhausted.

"See what Cummins has to say about it!" we both suggested, breaking the silence.

Cummins was the Commander of the _Laird_, and, even in the few months the ship had been in commission, had become the one man relied upon in every emergency either for advice or action. Short of stature, with a little thin body and very sloping shoulders, his head looked too big for his body and his long thin nose too big for his head. It was only when he talked, which he seldom did, that his dreamy grey eyes commenced to light up, and then they had the most humorous twinkle in the world. He was a great mathematician, had been a torpedo lieutenant, and was taken for a dreamy philosopher till you saw those twinkling eyes change to eyes of steel, and his somewhat effeminate, irresolute lips harden. This was only when he had a big job to undertake or a weighty decision to make.

He sauntered in, dressed as usual, without regard to appearance, in an old ill-fitting monkey jacket, the pockets of which had been roughly stitched at the sides, for he always had his hands in them and wore them out rapidly. He was chewing his usual wooden toothpick, biting off little pieces, which he carefully put in his left-hand pocket, whilst he carried a store of new ones in the right-hand one.

When he did speak he always commenced with a silly little chuckle which was distinctly irritating--to me at any rate.

He seemed vaguely amused at the presence of the two Chinese, and at the details of the crisis which Helston recounted to him.

"What do you advise?" asked Helston, biting his words, as he always does when excited. "Whatever we do we must do quickly."

"Heugh! heugh! heugh!" chuckled Cummins, selecting a fresh toothpick from his pocket, "I should give that cove some brandy first of all," pointing to A Tsi, who was looking pretty ill, and he smiled blandly at us, wandered off to a corner of the cabin where Helston kept his cigars, and lighted one, whilst a servant brought the drink and turned on the electric light, for by this time it had become dark.

Every now and then he gave vent to an irritating chuckle, as if immensely amused at the whole story, whilst Helston watched him with ill-concealed impatience, knowing that it was useless to hurry him.

Then suddenly turning round, he gave his advice:

"Communicate with the police, sir, and have Ping Sang traced. Get search warrants issued, and search every junk leaving Hong-Kong to-night. This Englishman has got a long start, but there is no breeze to speak of, and if he tries to get him away to the mainland, we might catch him if you sent the destroyers out at once. That man--the one with the brandy--would possibly recognize the junk. Send him with Parker ('No. 3'); he's the smartest of the three, and will probably get away first. I will go up and make the necessary signals, and have their searchlights sent over from the _Sylvia_. They may be able to get away in an hour."

Without waiting for Helston's "All right, Cummins, you carry on," he sauntered up on deck, and we heard him singing out for the signalman; and then, putting his head down the skylight, he chuckled; "Heugh! heugh! heugh! You need have no fear for your Chinese friend, sir; they won't hurt a hair of his head. They'll want to exchange him for that rascal Hopkins."

"Bless my soul, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Helston, much relieved; "I never thought of that!"

The Skipper's galley being called away, he and I went ashore, taking Ho Ming with us.

We landed at Murray Pier, and had to push through a crowd of curious Chinamen.