CHAPTER THIRTY.

  A FRESH START.

  "Mr Herrick," said the captain, as I saluted, "I have decided that, asyou know so much about this business, you shall go with Mr Brooke inone of the boats; but I wish you to observe what I say: the success ofour expedition depends a great deal upon secrecy, so do not chatteranything about your mission in the hearing of the men."

  "No, sir, certainly not," I said, wondering what the mission might be,and whether we were going to cut out the junks.

  "That's right; you had better take the interpreter with you."

  "To search for the junks, sir?"

  "Hush; guard your tongue, sir. You are ostensibly going up the riverwith Mr Brooke upon a little shooting expedition for wild-fowl, so getrid of your uniform. I daresay we can lend him a gun, Mr Reardon?"

  "If he'll take care of it, he can have mine, sir," said Mr Reardon.

  "Then off with you, my lad, and be as observant as you can. Mr Brookewill tell you, I daresay, all about his instructions."

  I saluted, and darted away in time to see that Smith had been watchingme, for he drew back as I approached, and I found him standing by whereBarkins sat, looking exceedingly glum.

  I daresay it was very petty, but Smith had been so malicious, and had sooften made himself disagreeable, that I could not help feeling adelicious sensation of triumph as I bustled into the cabin and rushed tomy locker, without taking any notice whatever of Smith, while I feltsorry for big burly Barkins, who I felt would not say an unkind word ifit were not for Smith's influence.

  I remember Charles Dickens saying in one of his tales something about itbeing hard enough to live with any one who had a bad temper in a largehouse, but to be shut up with the said person in a cart or travellingvan was terrible. Of course I am not giving his exact words, onlymaking the allusion to illustrate the fact that it is quite as bad toexist with an ill-tempered person in the small cabin of a vessel at sea.For you may depend upon it there is no better--or worse--way of findingout a companion's peculiarities than that.

  I acted pettily, but then I was only a boy; and now I am a man, gettingon in years, I don't know that I am much better. But it was very comicall the same to see those two fellows try to ignore my proceedings, poorold Barkins following Blacksmith's lead once more. They did not want toknow what I was going to do--not a bit. And I laughed to myself as Ihurriedly kicked off my shoes and put on a pair of strong boots,carefully took off my uniform jacket and replaced it by a thin tweedNorfolk, after which I extricated a pith helmet from its box, having toturn it upside down, for it was full of odds and ends.

  Smith had taken up a book and pretended to read, while Barkins sat backon a locker with his hands in his pockets, and his lips thrust out andscrewed as if he were whistling, but no sound came, and he stared hardat the bulkhead facing him.

  But try how he would he could not keep his eyes fixed there--they wouldfollow my movements; and twice over I caught Smith peeping round theside of the book with which he was screening his face.

  I began to whistle as I rapidly made my preparations, and at last Smithcould bear it no longer.

  "What's the idiot dressing himself up for?" he cried contemptuously.

  That started Barkins, and he burst out with--

  "What's up, Gnat? Shore leave?"

  "Eh! Didn't you know?" I said coolly. "Shooting."

  "What!" they exclaimed in a breath, and Smith's eyes were more wide openthan I had ever seen them.

  "Shooting," I said coolly. "Brooke and I are going after ducks."

  "Gammon!" cried Barkins. "Why, you have no gun."

  "No," I said. "Reardon is going to lend me his double breech-loader,central fire, number twelve."

  Barkins gave his leg a sharp slap.

  "We're going up the river; plenty of sport up there among the marshes."

  "Going to walk?" said Barkins.

  "Oh no; we're to have a crew and one of the cutters."

  "Don't you believe him, Barkins, it's all gammon. The little humbugcan't deceive me."

  "All right, call it gammon," I said, stooping to tighten my boot-laces."Roast duck for dinner, Tanner, to-morrow."

  Barkins rushed on deck, leaving me with Smith, and the next minute hewas back again.

  "It's all right, Smithy," he cried; "and they're shoving in a basket ofprog for the beggars."

  "What!" yelled Smith. "Do you mean to say that Brooke and this--this--thing are going off wasting Her Majesty's time shooting?"

  "Yes; I saw Brooke, and he said it was so."

  "Then I shall resign. Hang me if I'll stop in a service where suchbeastly favouritism is shown. Profession for gentlemen's sons, is it?I call it a mockery!"

  "Oh, don't be so snaggy, Smithums," I said banteringly; "wait till hispoor old wing's all right again, and he shall go a shooting too."

  That was too much. He made a rush at me, but Barkins flung an arm roundhis waist, and as they struggled together I dodged to the other side ofthe table and escaped from the cabin, but popped my head in again.

  "Don't hit him, Tanner," I cried; "he ain't got no friends. Good-bye,old chap, I wish you were coming too."

  Our eyes met, and I suppose my tone and the look I gave him seemedsincere, for, as he held Smith, his arms tightly round him from behind,and his chin resting upon our messmate's shoulder, he gave me a friendlynod.

  "All right, old chap," he said; "I hope you'll enjoy yourself."

  "And I hope the John Teapots 'll get hold of you, you miserable littlecad!" cried Smith. "I shan't be there to help you this time."

  I burst out laughing and ran on deck, to find the men mustered ready,and Mr Brooke standing there in sun helmet and gaiters, looking asunlike a naval officer as he could be.

  "Oh, there you are, Herrick," he said, giving me a look over. "Yes,that will do."

  "But the men," I whispered. "Oughtn't they to be armed?"

  "All right, my lad; plenty of tackle in the boat under the thwarts."

  "But my gun--I mean Mr Reardon's?"

  "In the stern-sheets, with plenty of cartridges. Where's Ching?"

  "I don't--down below, I suppose."

  "Fetch him up; we're off at once."

  There was no need, for the interpreter appeared smiling and happy,looking as if he had not passed through such a terrible ordeal a shorttime before.

  The captain and Mr Reardon came up then.

  "Ready, Mr Brooke?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Order the crew into the boat, Mr Reardon."

  As the men sprang in, the captain came close to us.

  "You'll keep up the appearance of a sporting expedition, Mr Brooke," hesaid in a low voice. "I expect you'll find the junks in the river offsome village. The rest I must leave to you."

  "Take them, sir, if I feel pretty certain?"

  Captain Thwaites knit his brows, and stood as if thinking for a fewmoments.

  "No," he said at last; "but that I leave all to your discretion. Don'trisk your men, if they are strong. I'm afraid some of these mandarinsare mixed up with the piratical expeditions, and share in the plunder,and I am certain that every movement we make is watched. There, offwith you; don't let Mr Herrick get hurt. I trust you to do your best."

  We sprang into the boat, which was lowered down; the falls wereunhooked; and as Tom Jecks, who was coxswain, gave us a shove off, thetide, which was running up, bore us right aft; then the oars droppedwith a splash, the rudder lines were seized, and away we went up-streamon as glorious a day as ever made a dirty Chinese city look lovely.

  I looked back, and there were Barkins and Smith leaning over the sidewatching us, but I hardly noticed them, for something else caught myeye.

  "Why, they're getting up steam, Mr Brooke!" I said.

  "Yes, my lad, they're getting up steam, and I hope your information maymean some good active service for us. Here, Ching," he whispered, "youhave not told the men anything about our business?"

  Ching shut his eyes and shoo
k his head solemnly.

  "Velly muchee keepee mouf shut," he said, with the addition now of a fewnods of the head. "Nobody but Ching an' officer know."