CHAPTER XI.
Three days after leaving Suez they saw, for the first time, the Southern Cross, and, on the following morning, they steamed into what, at first sight, Fred and Charlie thought was land, but was simply a wide streak of floating sand which had been blown out to sea during a sand-storm.
At night they were now permitted to sleep on deck—a boon which all three appreciated highly. They took their blankets and pillows on to the poop, and slept with greater comfort than they had experienced for many days, though one night they were caught in a heavy thunder-shower.
One morning, when they went on deck, they found it literally strewn with flying fish. The ship's rats had evidently had a good feed, for many of the fish were gnawed and bitten.
'Would you like some flying fish for breakfast, gentlemen?' the cook said to the three passengers as they stood looking at the stranded fish.
'Are they good?' Charlie inquired, suspiciously.
'First class,' the cook declared; so Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang had flying fish for breakfast.
'I can't say that I consider them "first class,"' Fred said when he had eaten two of them, 'but I am glad that I shall be able to say that I have eaten one.'
'Eaten two,' Charlie said, but Fred ignored the interruption.
'I make a practice of tasting any new dish I come across,' he continued.
'When we get to China,' Charlie said, 'Ping Wang will have the pleasure of offering you puppy-dog pie.'
'I don't think that you will find Chinese food so bad as you imagine,' he said. 'Certainly it will be better than what we had to eat on the Sparrow-hawk.'
While they were looking at a heap of dead fish, the captain shouted to them to come over to the starboard side; and on doing so they beheld a shoal of small fish being chased by big ones. To escape their pursuers the small fish jumped out of the water, and were instantly seized by the gulls, a flock of which were hovering around. The gulls had a splendid feast, several hundred of small fish being eaten by them before the Twilight steamed away from the shoal.
It was not long before the Twilight arrived at Aden, where they all went ashore for a short time.
After they left Aden the days were extremely monotonous, for there was nothing to be seen but the ocean.
'I shall be jolly glad when the voyage is at an end,' Charlie declared when they had passed Ceylon without catching a glimpse of it.
'So shall I,' Fred answered, 'but it won't be much longer, and then the fun will begin.'
'I hope,' Ping Wang said, 'that you will not mind being dressed as Chinamen.'
'But, my dear fellow,' Fred replied, 'if we were dressed as Chinamen, we should not deceive any one. Our faces are not at all Chinese.'
'I can alter that by shaving your eyebrows.'
'Very likely, but Chinamen without pigtails would be as absurd as a wingless bird.'
'I will buy two pigtails,' Ping Wang declared, calmly.
'What! Surely Chinamen don't wear false pigtails?' Charlie exclaimed.
'Thousands of them do, but, of course they keep it as secret as do your English ladies who wear false hair.'
'But how do they fix it to their head? Stick it on to their bald pates with gum?'
'Oh, no! Chinamen are never quite bald—at least, I have never met any who are—and the pigtail is fixed to what hair they have. My reason for advising you not to have your hair cut in Port Said was that I wanted you to have long hair by the time we reached Hongkong. I think that it is already long enough for pigtails to be attached.'
Charlie was delighted at the prospect of having to don Chinese attire, but Fred was far from pleased. He had provided himself with an excellent khaki campaigning suit, and did not at all like the idea of its lying idle. However, after some further conversation, Ping Wang succeeded in convincing him that, for the success of their plans for recovering the idol, it was necessary that he and Charlie should pass themselves off as Chinese.
'We shall have to eat our food with chop-sticks I suppose?' Charlie remarked.
'Certainly,' Ping Wang replied.
'Then lend me yours, and I'll start practising at once. I don't want to be starved when I get to China.'
Ping Wang lent his chop-sticks willingly, and having obtained some boiled rice from the cook, Charlie practised getting it into his mouth. It was an easier task than he had imagined, and when he had become proficient, he passed the chop-sticks on to Fred, who at once set to work to become as accomplished as his brother. Long before they arrived at Hongkong, Fred and Charlie found it as easy to eat with chop-sticks as with a knife and fork.
ONE WAS MISSING.
Two men once stopped at a French inn, and gave in charge of the landlady, who was a widow, a bag of money, telling her to give it up to neither of them unless they were both together. A little while afterwards one of the men came alone and asked the landlady to give up the money under the pretence that his companion had to make an important payment immediately. The widow had paid little attention to what had been said to her before, and now, forgetting all about it, gave up the bag. The rogue disappeared with it so quickly that the landlady asked herself if she had not made a mistake.
The next day the other man turned up, and made the same request as his comrade had done the previous day, and when the widow told him what had happened, he went into a passion, and summoned her for the loss of his money.
Some one who heard of the poor woman's plight advised her to say that she was ready to bring forth the money on the original terms. She asked the plaintiff to produce his comrade. The argument was found plausible by the court, and as the thief took care not to come back, his comrade had to give up his claim.
W. Yarwood.
PUSSY'S PLAYMATE.
Many instances of curious animal friendships have been recorded, but not many are stranger than that which a correspondent of the Field relates of a kitten and a peacock in his own grounds. The kitten was a half-wild one, living in the shrubberies near the house. All its brothers and sisters had been destroyed or taken away, and the kitten must have felt very lonely when there were none of its own kind to play with. Being very young and playful, it felt that it must have a friend and playmate of some kind, and it looked round to find one. There was a handsome peacock in the grounds, and pussy admired him very much, and thought she would like to play with him. So she tried to form an acquaintance, and, as the peacock was not half so vain as he looked, she succeeded very well. They were soon so friendly that pussy could rub against him and box his ears with impunity; she even tried to scramble upon his back. He took all her play in good part, and seemed to enjoy it quite as much as she did. Perhaps he was flattered by pussy's admiration, or perhaps he felt a true friendship for his strange companion. Whichever it was, he always looked out for his little playmate, and was evidently pleased to see her.
"The peacock took all her play in good part."
"The cat washed the jackdaw in its turn."
STRANGE CHILDREN.
We have all seen instances of the affection and care which most animals give to their helpless or nearly helpless offspring. The cat spends nearly all her day coiled up in some quiet, cosy corner with her family of kittens, and when she leaves them for a few minutes, to stretch her limbs and seek some refreshment for herself, the least squeak of one of her children will bring her back to its side. The hen struts about the farmyard surrounded by her chickens, and at the least appearance of danger the brood runs for shelter under her wings. When the lamb in the field strays from its mother's side she is soon alarmed, and shows her fear by her anxious bleating, which does not cease until the lamb returns to her. And thus it is with nearly every animal, tame or wild. Each gives proofs, if we could only see and understand them, of a wonderful and beautiful love for her young.
This motherly care is not quite like the ordinary friendship which one animal may have for another. A cat and a dog may be good friends all their lives. But, though the cat loves her kittens before all things while they are young and weak, later on, when they are sufficiently grown in size and strength to take good care of themselves, her affection gradually dies away, and she becomes indifferent to their wants. Sometimes she will even drive them away from her.
Another feature of this parental love is what might almost be called its unthinking strength. The mother animal feels her affections so strong that she cannot restrain them, and she often bestows them upon the strangest animals, along with her own young ones, or when she has been deprived of her own offspring. A hen will hatch ducks' eggs, and take the same care of the ducklings which she would have taken of her own chickens. I have heard of a hen taking charge of three young ferrets for a fortnight. They were placed in her nest because their own mother had died, and she took to them at once, and nestled down over them just as if they had been chickens. They were too helpless to follow her about, as chickens would have done, and she had to sit with them almost the whole time. She combed out their hair with her bill, just as she would have preened the feathers of chickens. The ferrets were fed by their owner, and they were taken away from the nest before they were old enough to do the hen any harm.
An even stranger instance of this misplaced affection on the part of a parent has been seen at a railway station recently, according to the newspapers. A cat in the goods shed had three kittens, which she was bringing up in the usual way. Soon after the kittens were born, some of the railwaymen found a young jackdaw, and put it with them. The cat made no objection, but received the bird kindly, and gave just as much care to it as to the kittens. The workmen fed the bird, while the cat took every other care of it, and even washed it, in its turn, with the kittens. The rearing was quite successful, and the bird grew up strong and healthy.
W. A. Atkinson.
A QUEER ADDRESS ON A POST-CARD.
On Coronation Day (August 9th, 1902), a number of balloons filled with natural gas were sent off from Heathfield, near Tunbridge Wells. One of these balloons was picked up on August 10th at Ulm, in Germany, having travelled the six hundred miles in less than twenty-four hours.
Notice of this fact was sent in German by the finder on a post-card, but he evidently did not understand English, for he copied the wording on the little medal fastened to the balloon: 'Natural gas carried me from Heathfield, Sussex.'
With these words for address, the post-card, after some delay, reached Heathfield, and was delivered to the manager of the Natural Gas Works.
S. Clarendon.