CHAPTER XIV
THE WRITING ON THE BRACELETS
In the joy of seeing her father after months of absence Marcia almostforgot the mystery of Benedict's Folly. Almost--but not quite!
Captain Brett had been at home twenty-four hours, and had had time togive an account of all the intervening weeks, before the subject wasbroached. Then the next morning, with a great air of mystery, the twogirls and Aunt Minerva made him sit down and listen to the entire story.At its conclusion they produced the two filigree bracelets for hisinspection.
"H'm!" he exclaimed, and, whistling softly under his breath, examinedthem with minute care. And then, being a man of few words, he onlyremarked: "So you think these were once a pair?"
"Why, of course!" cried Marcia. "Don't you?"
"It looks remarkably like it," he conceded.
"Do tell us how you happened to get yours!" she begged.
"There's nothing much to tell," replied Captain Brett. "Happened to bein Hong-Kong one day, and a ragged-looking Chinese sailor thrust thisunder my nose and whined that he'd let me have it for two Mexicandollars. They're always trying to get rid of things like this when theywant some spare cash. One never knows where they pick them up. I didn'twant the trinket particularly, but I saw that it was a unique littlepiece and worth probably much more. So I bought it, tucked it away in mytrunk, and forgot it till I arrived home, when I gave it to you,Minerva. That's all I know about it."
"How long ago was that?" asked Janet.
"Must have been at least twelve years ago. I'm not sure of the exactyear."
"But what do these things mean?" questioned Miss Minerva, pointing tothe strange characters in the silver-work.
"They're Chinese characters, certainly, but I don't know what they mean.You see them on lots of their jewelry and gimcracks--generally mean'good luck,' or 'happiness,' or some such motto. Can't say whether thesemean anything of that kind or not."
"But tell me, Father, don't you honestly believe that if we could getthese translated--find out what they mean--it might give us _some_ clueto the puzzle?" Marcia appealed to him.
"It might--or it might not," he answered skeptically. "So many of thesecharacters might be meaningless, as far as any personal application wasconcerned."
"Well, anyway, _could_ we get them translated, just for our ownsatisfaction?" demanded Marcia.
"Nothing simpler!" smiled Captain Brett. "My boatswain is aChinese--very learned man--reads his Confucius in off hours! He'd besure to help you with it."
"Oh, goody! And when can we have it done?" cried Marcia, aglow withanticipation.
"Well, you're all coming down to visit the ship to-morrow. Bring thebracelets along, and I'll see that Lee Ching is on hand to give you hisassistance. But--I warn you--_don't_ count too much on what you maydiscover from it! I don't want you to have a bad disappointment."
In spite of which warning, notwithstanding, the girls slept little thatnight, so excited were they over the prospect, and, when they did sleep,dreamed impossible dreams--mainly of quite unintelligible translationsof cryptic Chinese characters.
The visit to Captain Brett's ship, _The Empress of Oran_, would havebeen an event, apart from any other interest involved in the expedition.Marcia and Janet had never in their lives been on board of an oceansteamer. Even the approach to it was fascinating,--the long, coveredwharves with their strange, spicy odors, the bustle and activity ofloading and unloading, the narrow gangways, the dark waist of thevessel, and the immaculate white paint of the decks.
They examined every inch of the huge steamer, from the stoking-room tothe donkey-engines on the forecastle deck, and spent half an hour in thecozy, tiny cabin that was the captain's own, marveling at thecompactness and handiness of every detail.
When they all went up to the after-deck for luncheon, which was servedunder an awning, Marcia and Janet could scarcely eat for watching thedeft, silent, sphinxlike Chinese cook who waited on them. They tastedstrange dishes that day, some of which, like curry and rice, werescarcely acceptable to their unaccustomed palates.
"Now," said the captain, in the middle of the meal, "if we were only outon the China Sea or bowling along over the Pacific, this would be justright. You'd have more of an appetite in that salt air than you dohemmed in by these noisy docks!"
But it was not the docks that had stolen away the appetites of Marciaand Janet. They were boiling with impatience to see the boatswain, thatstudent of Confucius, who could, perhaps, throw some new light on theirmystery. Ambrosia and nectar for luncheon would scarcely have appealedto them under the circumstances!
At last, however, the meal was ended with the curious little Chinesenuts whose meat is almost like a raisin. Then, when the table wascleared and the captain had lit his cigar, he spoke the word that causedtheir hearts to jump and their eyes to brighten:
"Now I suppose you want to see Lee Ching!" He beckoned to a sailor andsent him to find the boatswain.
Lee Ching arrived with promptitude, saluted his captain, and stoodgravely at attention. He was not a young man, and he had a decidedlyOriental, mask-like face. It seemed strange that he should be dressed inthe conventional boatswain's uniform, with peaked cap and the whistle ofhis office. One could imagine him better in some brilliant-hued,wide-sleeved Chinese garment, with a long pig-tail down his back.
"Lee Ching," said the captain, "these young ladies are very muchinterested in these two bracelets that have come into their possession.The characters on them, you see, are in your language. We wonder if youwill be so kind as to translate them for us?"
Lee Ching took the trinkets and examined them minutely. Presently heasked:
"Will ladies have what say by word of mouth?" The captain was about toanswer yes, and then changed his mind:
"No. It may be rather important, and we want to remember it accurately.We would be obliged if you would write it out."
Lee Ching nodded gravely. "Will captain permit I retire to cabin?" herequested, and on being dismissed, he retreated with a formal bow.
"But _can_ he write English?" cried Marcia, when he had disappeared.
"Of course he can, better than he can speak it!" laughed the captain."English is child's play compared to that brain-paralyzing language ofhis! I must say, though, that Lee Ching is rather unusual--as Chinesesailors go. He's studied in the University of Pekin, reads and writesEnglish well, and never speaks Pidgin-English. Why he's spending hislife as boatswain of a trading-steamer I don't know. He's fitted for fardifferent things. But I have an idea it's on account of his health thathe follows the sea."
The time before Lee Ching's reappearance seemed to the girlsinterminable, though, in all probability, it was not more than fifteenminutes.
At last, however, he returned, laid the bracelets and a slip of paper inthe captain's hand, and was about to retire.
"One moment!" said Captain Brett. "Is the writing on the two braceletsthe same?"
"Words on two bracelets are Identical," replied LeeChing, precisely]
"Words on two bracelets are identical," replied Lee Ching, precisely.
"That is all, then, and thank you!" And the captain dismissed him.
"Oh, _read_ it," cried Marcia, "or I shall die of impatience!" andshe hung over his shoulder while he read aloud Lee Ching's queer,angular handwriting.
Writing: "From the maker of melodies to the flower-maidenon this day of their wedding. Amoy, Sept. 25, 1889."]
When he had finished, a blank look crept over the expectant faces of thetwo girls.
"Is _that_ all?" cried Janet. And Marcia exclaimed, "Why, howdisappointing! It doesn't tell us a single thing!"
"Wait a minute," said the captain, tugging thoughtfully at his shortmustache, while he studied the paper, "I'm not so sure of that!"