Читать книгу Missee Lee - Arthur Ransome - Страница 8

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“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.

There was a sudden stir on deck, the noise of running feet.

“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 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 chattering 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....”

“But why?” Nancy began hammering at the deck.

Peggy stopped her with a tug. She looked round. People were watching from the open door. The man who had brought them their food came in and hung up a lighted lantern. The doorway was filled by a very tall man, in blue silk robes that glinted in the light of the lantern. He wore a blue skull-cap with a scarlet button that grazed the lintel as he came in, and a bird-cage with a white canary in it dangled from one hand. The captain of the junk came in after him.

“Taicoon, Chang,” said the tall man.

“Nancy Blackett,” said Nancy. “And this is Peggy.”

“Melican?” he asked.

“English,” said Nancy.

“Melican man with two English wives.”

And at that moment the noise of tapping from below grew louder. Captain Flint was growing impatient.

The tall man listened. “Plisoners,” he said. “No belong talkee.” He turned to the captain of the junk. They heard the words “San Flancisco.” “To-mollow all come my yamen,” he said to Nancy, and then the two of them went out.

“Gosh,” said Nancy. “We oughtn’t to have let him catch us Morsing.”

“They’ve shut the door,” said Peggy. “And the window.”

Nancy tapped the call sign but got no answer.

A moment later they heard Captain Flint’s voice outside. “You take me Melican consul plenty quick.... Chop chop. Savee?” and then, clearly meaning them to hear, “Things’ll be fixed up somehow.”

“Can’t you take us too?” shouted Nancy.

There was the sound of something like a struggle. Then Captain Flint’s voice shouting from further away. “You sit tight and don’t worry. Bound to get some sense out of somebody.” Then came the sound of oars.

“Taking him ashore,” said Nancy.

“What shall we do?”

“Sit tight, of course,” said Nancy. “It’ll be all right as soon as he’s seen the consul or the harbourmaster.”

“But if they’re pirates?”

“Oh, shut up, Peggy. It’ll be all right, anyway.”

A little later the captain came in again, and with him a man with bowls of rice and soup.

“Man fan,” he said.

“Why can’t we go ashore?” asked Nancy furiously.

“Him too much stlong,” he said. “Him mad. More betta in plison.” He tapped with a knuckle on the cabin-wall. “Talkee,” he said. “Taicoon say no belong talkee. San Flancisco go plison. You see him to-mollow.” He bowed, smiled and went out. The door closed behind him and they heard the noise of its fastening.

Nancy suddenly laughed. “He’s been in prison before,” she said. “Don’t you remember? Over grabbing a policeman’s helmet on boat-race night. He won’t mind. And we’re all right too.”

“What about John and Susan and the others?” said Peggy.

“Been picked up by a liner long ago,” said Nancy. “Sitting in a row at the captain’s table and being fussed over by a lot of stewards and stewardesses and first-class passengers, poor beasts.”

There were noises of boats coming alongside, and boats going off again. The noises came gradually to an end.

“Everybody’s gone ashore,” said Nancy.

“Not everybody,” said Peggy.

They could hear soft footsteps walking up and down.

“Sentinel,” said Nancy. “Night watchman.... Oh well, who cares? One more night in here. Let’s have supper and go to bed. It’ll be all right in the morning.”