The merchant's children

Front matter

fact

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Chapter I. The Tea-warehouse

T was the twenty-third of May, the middle of the great Chinese tea-harvest. What a queer harvest

it was, gathering the tiny leaves of the tea-plant! Every one must be plucked separately by hand. If we wandered the wide world through, such another harvest could not be found. We in England, who think only of the rustling corn and heavy sheaves, can hardly realize what -tedious work it is for the poor Chinamen. How they get through it as they do, in about three weeks, is a wonder.

These are three weeks of ceaseless toil, from dawn to dark, for every man, woman, and child who can work ; especially in Hankow, the great tea-market of China—we might say, the great tea-market of the world. The city was like a mighty bee-hive, not a

Everything that could work was working its hardest, except the merchant’s children; and they were left to their own devices, with single drone within it.

nothing to do.

Their father, the resident agent of one of the largest London tea-warehouses, was the best judge of tea among the English merchants. His office was crowded from morning to night with blue-robed “ Celestials,” as the Chinese call themselves in their self-conceit. He had not time even to look at his children; and their mother was away. It was a slow holiday for the little brother and sister. It was too hot to enjoy their play. Greville had left the garden, to find amusement in watching the shoals of native boats and the forests of junks always crowding the mighty river that runs through the city.

Every one of them, from the gayest junks of the richest mandarins (as the Chinese gentlemen are called) to the meanest boat or sampan, with its gipsy-like awning, was laden with tea. In the midst of these countless sails and splashing oars, Greville gazed with boyish pride at more than one British tea-ship riding at anchor on the yellow water, awaiting its cargo.

Greville chose his favourite “look-out” high up among the spreading branches of the tallest of the trees which the little knot of English merchants had planted by the river-bank. He leaned eagerly forward. His eye was fixed on a small white cloud in the distance, which soon developed into a puffing column of steam.

THE TEA-WAREHOUSE. It

Greville began his descent at once, dropping from bough to bough with as much speed as the excessive heat permitted.

“Tt is, 1 am sure,” he repeated“ it is another ship coming in. [ must run and tell father.”

He crossed the beautiful avenue, and re-entered his father’s garden, keeping well in the shade of the feathery bamboos which surrounded it.

“Cornelia!” he shouted to his sister, who had gone indoors, “ where is father ?”

“In the office, of course,” she answered, in a languid tone, as if she were half asleep. -

Greville paused and hesitated, then, with his usual

impetuosity, made up his mind to push his way through the crowd who were thronging the entrance to the office, and watch his opportunity to whisper the good news to his father. _ The merchant’s place of business, or “hong” as it is called in China, looked lke a stately mansion in the midst of a lovely garden. The white portico, and the handsome colonnade supporting the veranda along the front, facing the river, led to the spacious rooms inhabited by his family. The tea-warehouses and offices were at the back, and occupied at least one-half of the building. There were about fourteen similar hongs, which the English merchants had built for themselves outside the city, on a piece of ground they had hired of the Chinese government for ninety-nine years.

THE TEA-WAREHOUSE.

This piece of ground was usually called the English Concession. It was a pretty little place, with its park-like avenue, soft velvet grass, and neat gravel road. It was amongst the trees of this avenue Greville had chosen his look-out.

The merchants had also built three or four wharves and a small church; so they lived apart from the vast multitudes within the city—a little group of strangers in a very strange land.

It was some time before Greville could make his way through the noisy, chattering crowd of Chinamen thronging the doorway of his father’s office, jostling each other to see which could get in first, and vociferating at the top of their voices. How queer they looked in their blue robes, with their wide, open sleeves reaching to their knees, and all their hair shaved off, except one long plait hanging down their backs! Every man had his fan, and some an umbrella as well. Those who knew they must wait were fanning themselves vigorously. Most of the outsiders, who were continually hurrying up, used theirs to shade their bare heads from the sun. Others who were intent upon business shut up their fans and tucked them under the long plait of hair. It always made Greville laugh to see the fans stuck on the back of the men’s necks, especially when those men happened to be coolies or day-labourers, who went about nearly naked, hauling in the bales of tea, if they belonged to the warehouses; or working in pairs, if they

SSE ee —— ne oe a came up from the city, with huge baskets of tea, slung on a bamboo pole, which they carried on their shoulders. : Such was the crowd through which Greville had to edge his way.

Once inside, the office was cool and spacious. But he had come at an unlucky moment. | His father was one of the most particular men in the world. | Everything in his office must be done with mathematical precision. There were plenty of windows in the room, all provided with sun-shutters on the outside; and these shutters had to be arranged every day so that exactly the same amount of light was thrown upon the long table. There was something wrong with the shutters. Two required closing just another quarter of an inch, and a third slanting one-third more. Greville saw the irritation on his father’s brow. He saw his nerves quiver as he laid one thin -hand on the window-sill, and like a wise boy he slipped into a quiet corner, waiting his chance.

He knew that without such care the fresh-gathered tea could not be properly tested. To a stranger it might have seemed all fuss and fidget, but Greville knew better. He counted one hundred and fortyseven different samples of tea which had been brought in that morning. The samples were in little tin canisters, which stood in rows at the back of the long table.

“Poor father!” thought Greville; “it is making

14 THE TRA-WARLAOGSE.

him quite ill. Just fancy what it must be to taste all those different teas in one morning, and then to be writing as hard as he can half the night! That- Mr. Raynham ought to have been here to help him.” The blinds were properly arranged at last. Greville saw his father turn away from the windows and take up a small pair of scales. He was at his elbow in a moment.

“Don’t interrupt me,” interposed Mr. Lynthorne, catching sight of his little son’s eager face. “There is no room for you here, my boy,” he continued, in such a decided tone Greville did not even venture to utter a word.

“Good news won’t spoil,” he said to himself: “I must not worry father.”

He was out of sight in a moment, under the table; whilst his father opened each little canister in succession, and examined its contents. The value of the tea depended upon the sweetness of its fragrant scent. He held each canister as if it had been a lady’s vinatgrette, slowly inhaling the pleasant perfume.

When he had gone the whole length of the table, he turned and spoke to one of his Chinese clerks, who acted as his interpreter. Very few Englishmen can speak Chinese; but some of the Chinamen have learned a little English, also a little Portuguese, and a little French, and perhaps a few words of Russian, which they confuse together. The result is very absurd. They call it “ talking business,” only no

Chinaman can properly pronounce the word. They all say “pidgin” for business, and this “pidgin English” is a far more ridiculous jargon than “ nigger English ” itself.

The clerk took up the little tin muster Mr. Lynthorne had pushed aside, and finding out its owner, who was sitting on the floor, gravely informed him,—

“ Number one top-side tea-tasting man lookee pekoe. No can see. Pekoe point where?”

The disappointed owner scratched his back in his perplexity at having his sample rejected, just as a rustic countryman of ours gives a tug at his hair to quicken his brain, as he gabbled out a lengthened explanation why there was so little pekoe or teablossom in his sample.

On the other side of the table there was a long row of tiny white cups and saucers, a sand-glass which ran for five minutes precisely, and a tea-kettle boiling over a spirit-lamp. At the urgent entreaty of the Chinaman, Mr. Lynthorne took back the rejected sample to complete his test.

He weighed a small quantity, about a teaspoonful, into one of the cups, filled up the cup with boiling water, and set the saucer over it. Then the sand-glass was turned. And whilst the tea was steeping, Mr. Lynthorne paused with his eye on the running sand: when the last grain fell, the tea would be ready for tasting.

Greville seized the moment.

THE TEA-WAREHOUSE.

“Father, there is another ship steaming up the river; perhaps Mr. Raynham is on board.”

The news was as welcome as Greville had expected. Mr. Lynthorne heaved a deep sigh of relief.

“Tell the boy to row down and meet it and inquire,” he answered hastily, for the sand was out.

Away went Greville, proud of his commission. The boy he was to find was Mr. Lynthorne’s Chinese servant. Every merchant keeps a boy, as he is called. Whatever the age of the Chinaman who fills the post, he is always called the boy. He does no rough work, but he sees that all the coolies under him do theirs. He goes with his master everywhere, takes good care of everything belonging to him, saves him all sorts of trouble, and never gives him any. So good a servant as a Chinese “boy” it would be difficult to find in any other country.

“Where is Pao?” asked Greville of one of the Chinese clerks. His father looked up from his teacup, and pointed to the door of an inner room, where he kept his money.

Pao, who had found everything “east and west” in his master’s sanctum, was putting it to rights.

Everything belonging to Mr. Lynthorne got east and west, as Pao called it, during the hurry of the tea-market.

Greville delivered his father’s message.

“Can do,” answered: Pao decidedly, as he glided about in his long white robe and soft slippers. He (351)

THE TEA-WAREHOUSE: ay was setting up the heavy ledgers, which filled the shelves over the merchant’s desk. In the middle of the room stood a strong chopping-block. A small, well-sharpened hatchet lay on it, ready for use. In the corner behind it there was a high pile of glittering lumps. Each lump weighed about seven pounds, and was cast in the shape of a shoe. Purses and cashboxes are of no use in China. That heap on the floor was Mr. Lynthorne’s hoard of sycee silver, which he had got ready to pay for the tea he was buying in such quantities. On the other side of the room there were rows of strong pegs, prepared for the copper money, which lay on the floor beneath in a mountainous pile.

“ All to be hangee up,” said Pao. “ Helpee, Master Greville, and we go row down river.”

Greville’s eyes sparkled with delight at the proposal.

Chapter II. In The Sampan

LAD to have found something to do at last,

J Greville set to work in earnest. The copper coins or copper cash, as they are called, are the only money the poor people in China will take in payment. To get cash enough was the worry of Mr. Lynthorne’s life. He had just procured a fresh supply, and Pao wanted to hang it up on the pegs before he went.

Twenty-five of these cash are equal to one of our pennies. Five pounds’ worth would overload a boat. They are made with a hole in the middle of the coin, so that they can be threaded on long strings. It was these strings of cash Pao wanted to hang up before he went. They were very heavy to lift, and Greville was soon so tired that he thought his arms would drop off. He rested himself by dusting the moneyscales. They were a ponderous affair, fit for a grocer’s shop, we should say. But they required careful dusting, for the sparkling flour sifted over them was all pure silver. Greville gathered this into a little bowl.

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Set we a lid a a a oF pe

He was thinking how very nice it must be to live in England, where ‘money was no trouble,—where nobody thought of chopping off a bit of silver every time there was a bill to pay, and weighing out the right quantity, as his father was forced to do.

But his reflections were cut short by a message from Mr. Lynthorne telling them to make haste.

Pao spread his fan, Greville snatched up his broad hat and puggaree, and away they went. The careful Pao had hung three or four strings of cash round his neck, to pay a boatman, and if necessary lend a few to the new arrival, who he hoped would return with them.

“Young barbarian no talkee pidgin,” observed Pao ; “he no savoy what I say. He savoy you, Master Greville.”

“Tf he does talk Portuguese, which is not at all likely,” retorted Greville, “he would not know that savoy means sabo, ‘I understand.’ You jumble up all sorts of words in your pidgin, Pao. You are quite right to take me with you, I am sure.”

Greville spoke very decidedly, but in his heart he was not quite sure his father intended him to go too; but it was of no use to interrupt him again. He ran

‘on by Pao’s side, wondering whether he could persuade his father to let him help in the office. He felt quite certain he could chop the silver, if he could not do anything else; and whilst Pao was looking out for a boat, he tried the strength of his arm by dealing a

SATS SRT ARE ee Se aa a ee

Sate tare.

of | | i i if | ii 5 i i ie blow at a stone with a little stick. The stick snapped in his hand, and the stone went rolling into the water with a dash and a splash.

A little boat floating idly by the river-bank rocked frightfully. Its owner had just unloaded its cargo of tea, and had left it in his wife’s care. She shrieked out in alarm, for fear her boat should be upset, and began scolding Greville at the top of her voice.

He knew well enough she was blaming his carelessness, although he could not understand a word she was saying. It made the poor boy tremble, for five tame cormorants, perched on the edge of the boat, began to flap their wings and scream in concert. A big perch leaped up in the water. The biggest bird made a dart forward with open beak. Greville thought it was coming straight at him, and put up his hands to shield his eyes. As he stepped back hurriedly to escape the bird’s attack, he stumbled over the naked feet of the old boatman, Ting, who was returning to his wife’s assistance.

“Tam so sorry,” stammered Greville. “It was an accident. I hope I have not done any mischief.”

A hooting, pelting crowd might. have gathered round the foreign boy in another moment, but for

Pao; for all the Chinese have an inborn dislike to foreigners, which a little irritation quickly chafes into positive anger. Pao turned his complacent face, beaming with smiles, and dropped a single cash from the strings he was carrying into the boatman’s hand.

Although it was worth only a fifth part of one of our English farthings, the effect was magical.

“Humph!” ejaculated old Ting, and “Humph” from the lips of a Chinaman means so much. The look and tone with which it is uttered make it express volumes. Old Ting was now their very humble servant, delighted to row them in his sampan to meet the English ship. He explained to Greville, as well as he could, that his cormorants were after the fish, which, like many a Chinese fisherman, he had trained them to catch. |

Pao called to a Chinese constable to take the number of the boat before they entered: it. This was a customary precaution, for there are many thieves among the river-boatmen. If anything went wrong, the old man could easily be found and made to give an account of it.

There were about twenty Chinese constables always marching up and down the English Concession to keep order. The Chinese government had sent them to protect the English merchants. A box of wooden soldiers would have been almost as good a guard, for if any disturbance did arise, they were safe to run away. But to-day the crowd was in high goodhumour, laughing and chattering over a prosperous market.

Old Ting had laid a little plank from his boat to the shore, and taking Greville’s hand, he led him carefully across, Pao following with a very grand air.

IN THE SAMPAN.

The boat or sampan was about the size of a Thames wherry. There was a little awning over one end, looking like a gipsy’s tent, under which the angry wife had retreated.

“ No mindee her,’ whispered Pao, stroking Greville’s pale cheek. “All clatter and pout. No can see.”

With this assurance Greville recovered his equanimity, and began to look around him.

At the other end of the boat, in the bows, there were two large holes: one was a kind of tank in which Ting threw his fish as he caught them, and the other a sort of cupboard. In the latter he kept his household gear.

The boat was poor Ting’s home. He and his wife, with their two little children, lived in it, small as it was. It was remarkably clean for China, where dirt and bad smells unfortunately abound. On one edge the cormorants were perched in a row. Greville could see they had all large rings fastened round their necks, to which a long string was tied, so that they could dart down into the water to catch the fish, but could not fly away from their master.

“Inside fixee. No can see,” laughed Pao merrily, as he shook the strings before Greville’s eyes, to convince him that his fright was quite unnecessary.

Feeling more than half ashamed of himself, Greville bit his lip with vexation; for old Ting’s black eyes were dancing with amusement, and the angry wife laughed right out. To make the matter worse, a little monkey of a boy crawled out from under his mother’s long skirt, and began to point at him, and laugh with all his might. As they had never seen a foreign boy before, Ting was calling to them to notice the ridiculous sight of a boy’s head all covered with hair, like growing grass.

This was horribly disconcerting. Greville thought the best thing he could do was to join in the laughing chorus, even if it were at his own expense.

But Pao was considerably annoyed. He liked to think his master was a personage of great importance, who ought to be treated with as much respect as the brother of their taotaz, or governor. He was just about to strike the little yellow head that was tumbling on the floor with the handle of his fan, when Greville caught his arm and stopped him. Old Ting’s round face was one broad grin of pleasure. That little head was the very joy of his heart.

The young Chinese scrambled to his feet, and ran to hide himself behind a row of beautiful flowers in pots, which were ranged on the opposite side of the boat, balancing the cormorants.

~“He will be over!” exclaimed Greville. “O Pao, what have you done?”

“Hab um safe. No can see,” repeated Pao, undisturbed by the child’s apparent peril.

What was there for Greville to see? He began to look about him more closely; then he discovered the laughing black-eyed child was made safe in his float-

IN THE SAMPAN.

ing nursery by a long line tied round his waist, to which a very heavy stone was made fast at the other end, so that if he had a fall into the water, he could be pulled out again in a moment. Perhaps these frequent duckings helped to make him so exception-

ET TET TI DISA LAE TLNE SES ee TTS oe Sa —o 7 —— Ss SS Pe 43

SS ally clean. Greville thought it must be so. How

he would make Cornelia laugh when he got home! But Pao was really scandalized at the behaviour of

the fisherman’s family, and drawing himself up with a grand air of offended dignity, he gravely asked old Ting “if he savoy his master was top-side tea-judgin’ man ;” adding confidentially his private belief that he was cousin to the Queen of England herself.

“ Nonsense, Pao!” exclaimed Greville. “ What would father say if he could hear you ?”

The impression Pao’s words had created was only deepened by Greville’s disclaimer, which was quite in accordance with Chinese etiquette, and so went for nothing. ‘Ting, with all a Chinaman’s reverence for a een Sere ae y dignitaries, now insisted upon proper respect being shown to the young foreigner. He made his little son knock his head three times on the floor of the boat before Greville’s feet. Then he held up his oar and gave a sign to his wife, who pushed the fishingnet aside and lifted up a little girl who had hidden herself beneath it when the strangers crossed the plank.

Little girls in England are often told that they Should be seen and not heard ; but well-behaved little girls in China are taught that it is a disgrace to be either seen or heard, so they usually run and hide themselves at the sound of a strange footstep.

She was a little older than her brother, and her black hair was cut in a fringe above her eyebrows.

She gave such a piteous moan of pain as her mother lifted her up, it went to Greville’s heart. Her little feet were so crippled she knew not how to stand alone. Yet they made her knock her head on the deck before him, as her brother had done. Her long pinafore almost covered the distorted toes—twisted back under the sole of her foot, and bound and tied with strings of silk. It was a sight Greville thought he never could forget.

“Ts that your way of making courtesies ?” he said. “Oh, pray don’t do it to me if it hurts you so much. —What is the matter with her, Pao?”

Pao leaned over him and made him understand in a low aside. The mother had just bound up the little creature’s feet. She would get used to it by-and-by.

It would not do to let a little dust-pan and hand-brush run about like a boy. It would not be respectable.

“Do they call you little dust-pan and hand-brush ?’ asked Greville, tickled in spite of his indignation on her behalf. “What .a name!”

“No, no,” said Ting; “I give her pretty English name, ‘ Old-ah-you.’ Dust-pan and hand-brush, that we call all little girls.”

It now became so difficult to old Ting to guide his

IN THE. SAMPAN.

boat through the crowd of junks, any further conversation was impossible. Only a Chinese boatman could have escaped a collision. His wife screamed to the cormorants, who drew back obediently. The luckless little dust-pan and hand-brush did nothing but tumble down in her vain attempt to walk back to the bit of mat on which she was lying when her mother uncovered her. !” eried Greville.

But no one seemed to think it of much consequence if she did.

Pao recommended them to tie a big gourd-skin in front of her pinafore, to keep her afloat if she fell. The mother said she would, but gourds were dear. Greville guessed the meaning of her reply, and pulling a handful of cash off one of Pao’s strings, offered them to her. He knew his father would say that was quite right.

“She will fall over into the river

Pao, with his fan slanted over his eyes, was pointing out the ship he had come to meet. Not the paddle-steamer riding at anchor on the sluggish yellow stream, which he called “ outside-walkee-can-see,’ but the screw-steamer which was puffing its way towards them. This he designated “ insidewalkee-no-can-see.”

Greville was on the tiptoe of expectation as the little sampan threaded its way between its more important neighbours, until it was within hail of the advancing steamer.

CHAPTER IIL.

ARKIVED AL LAST.

AO’S inquiries were answered by a stentorian English voice. The speaker, supposing the little party in the sampan had come to offer their services in the unlading of his ship, roared out, “Too plenty coolie,” and pointed to the shaven heads already swarming on to the deck in hopes of earning a few cash. But his manner soon changed when he found they were not more coolies seeking work, but had brought a message from the English charsee. When he caught sight of Greville’s English face under the white coil of his ample puggaree, it elicited a broad smile of pleasure.

“Who are you, my little lad?” he demanded. “The only English boy in Hankow,’ answered Greville cheerily.

“Then come on board, and welcome; you will find this Mr. Raynham eating his dinner in the captain’s cabin.”

But Pao, who never lost sight of his master’s interests, demurred to this proceeding, and held back

28 ARRIVED ATALAST-

Greville with one of his most significant “ Humphs,” making him understand that the master, who was al- _ waysin a hurry, like all true Englishmen, had only sent

them to ask if his new pen-pidgin man was on board. “Takee answer, walkee back!” he added, with great emphasis.

“Take him with us,” suggested Greville. “ Wouldn’t that be jolly ?”

Pao chuckled over the idea. “Good, good!” he repeated ; “ boo-o0 y-ah !” (bravo).

“Yes, good,” answered a laughing voice behind the boatswain. “Now, I think the best answer to return to Mr. Lynthorne is myself in person.”

Young Raynham, having heard the echo of his own name, had hurried away from the mess-table to ascertain who was inquiring for him.

“Jump in, Mr. Raynham,” urged Greville, in a flutter of excitement, almost frightened at his own temerity. “Oh, do come back with us! Father will be so pleased to see you, I know.”

“Wait five minutes, and I'll be with you,” retorted the same brisk voice; for it could hardly yet be said that they had seen the speaker.

It was a summary ending to a journey of eleven thousand miles; but it was the best way of atoning for his tardy appearance, so, at least, young Raynham thought. A brief colloquy with the captain satisfied him that his luggage would be safely landed in due time. When he took his seat in the boat by Greville’s

ARRIVED. ALT LAST. 29 side, he heard with a prick of conscience what an amount of work his non-appearance had thrown on Mr. Lynthorne. Did he know that his expected clerk had lingered a whole fortnight at Hong-Kong, enjoying the free-handed hospitality of the English residents there ; and then another ten days at Shanghai, just to break the tedious journey, and recruit himself before he entered upon his new post? Raynham was the younger brother of a friend of one of the tea-ship captains. He had just left school, when he heard by chance that a Hankow merchant was willing to give three hundred a year, with board and residence, to any young fellow of good character and good abilities who would come out to him, to keep his English accounts.

The offer was a tempting one. Raynham caught at it; borrowed his passage-money of a well-to-do friend, promising faithfully to repay it with his first year’s salary ; said good-bye to home and country with a light heart; and started, as he assured them, to make his fortune. Nothing could be easier. Scraps of notepaper were covered with his calculations as to how much he could lay by annually out of such an income. His careless indifference soon threw off the little uneasiness Greville’s words had occasioned, and he regained his sense of enjoyment in the novel scene.

It was marvellous to note the ease with which old Ting guided his boat through the crowded waters. It was pure merriment to listen to the strange cries and ceaseless gabble in an unknown tongue, and turn for explanation to the bright, intelligent face of the English boy, who was watching so earnestly to see what sort of an impression the first glimpse of Hankow would create in the mind of the new-comer. Was it good, or bad ?