Jerry was overcome with grief and despair, but even under these circumstances did not choose to be robbed; so after thrashing the thieves out of the boat, he prepared to leave her. Mo's dog, a most savage brute, was chained up forward, and when the sailor had provisioned the sampan belonging to the craft, and secured the cash he had taken from the magazine at Sse-tsein, he released the beast, and quitted the boat, which by this time had become odious to him.
Mr. Mo arrived at Mung-shan soon after Jerry's departure, and was duly informed of his bereavement, upon hearing which he sat down and uttered—not a prayer for the departed—but some very naughty words.
After sailing a short distance in the sampan, Jerry landed at a little fishing village on the other side of the lake; and having found a young fellow who was desirous of seeing something of the world, he shipped him as his crew, and the pair worked their way back to Ngan-tong, and thence down the Imperial Canal, during which trip Thompson became very proficient in the Chinese language. At Kuachú his crew abandoned him, and he proceeded alone until he reached Lake Tai-hú, where, selling his boat, he landed and tramped his way toward the green tea district. The world seemed a weary place for Jerry; and although he saw many pretty girls working in the fields, he did not care to enter into conversation with them. Everything appeared to go wrong with him since Mrs. J. died, and he wanted a severe shock to rouse him from his lethargic state.
One morning he entered the town of Whey-chú, in the heart of the green tea district, and as he spoke rather peculiar Chinese, the guard arrested him as a Canton rebel. After having floored several of the soldiers, he was overpowered, and thrown into prison, and found he ran an excellent chance of being beheaded, as the public prosecutor declared him to be a rebel spy. There was no opportunity of escaping, as at Sse-tsein; and, to add to his trouble, he was taken sick with fever. After being incarcerated in a horrid hole for more than three weeks, he was examined, when he declared "that he was no rebel, but an Inkili Hung-mow-jin," or foreign red-headed man. This announcement was received with derision; but, upon consultation with his assistants, the mandarin, before whom he was taken, determined to send him to Hang-chow, where a commissioner was sitting to decide upon the fate of all rebels who were captured in the province of Che-Keang. As he argued, "If this is a western barbarian, although he isn't vermilion-headed, I ought not to put him to death, the emperor having instructed me to forward all such to Canton, or the nearest port where those Fanquis congregate. Now, as that would involve a large expense, which, in these times of rebellion, we cannot very well afford, I will send him to Hang-chow, where the Imperial commissioner will determine whether he is a rebel or not."
One day as Jerry was dreaming his time away in his cell an executioner entered, and, bidding him follow, led the way into the Court of Mercy, where he was forced upon his knees, and ordered to bow to the mandarin who presided. The father and mother of the city addressed a long speech to his prisoner, and then dismissed him with a gesture of contempt, upon which he was dragged off, as he imagined, to execution, they leading him into a room, and striking off his irons.
"I'm glad it'll soon be all over," he observed in English. "I'm tired of this dog's life."
The executioner called in two Tartar soldiers, who seized the prisoner, and fastened a rope round his neck, each of them taking an end; the door was then opened, and he found himself once more in the sun-light. His guards led him with every show of caution until they got clear of the city, then they coiled the rope round his neck, and jogged along in a very friendly manner.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, as he cast his eyes back towards the town. "Good-bye, you infernal pest-hole. Jerry is himself again, and if all goes well will be upon his own hook in twenty-four hours, at the furthest."
