But I am moralizing. This will never do. I must not forget our journey to Assam, nor the disaster that befell us at Hong Kong. Up to there all went well. At Kobé we were fêted and made much of by the kind friend who rescued Chang from drowning in the gold-fish pond. No dog could have behaved better. His meekness and propriety were such that I inwardly marvelled at the change, and our hospitable host and hostess were almost in tears at his departure. ‘Such a sweet, gentle creature, and so good!’ I knew better; but ‘sufficient for the day.’
At Nagasaki we had only a few hours on shore, but, wishing to give Chang exercise, I took him for a walk along the Bund, and we wandered about the quaint streets of that most picturesque town immortalized by Pierre Loti.
There, in spite of many temptations--such as tailless cats and mangy curs, that looked only made to be annihilated--my hero returned to the steamship Hohenzollern, having resisted all except a villainous-looking coolie’s legs and a half-blind mongrel puppy--they hardly count.
Our next port was Hong Kong, where we changed steamers and spent a couple of days in that charming Blue Bungalow away up on the hill. What a lovely spot it was, with its trailing creepers and tropical vegetation, though terribly hot in summer, I believe. There, too, Chang was admired and made much of by all, except the five Siamese cats, who were banished to the kitchen regions, much to their disgust. It was a necessary removal, though, and the one and only meeting between him and those strange-looking, mouse-coloured, blue-eyed quadrupeds was rather disastrous to the drawing-room furniture; but one must draw the line somewhere, and he evidently considered--at a Siamese cat.
The morning of our departure on board the North German Lloyd’s steamship Kaiser was one of those days in a Hong Kong spring when the air seems full of the scent of delicious flowers. The twining bougainvillea was a blaze of brilliant crimson in the morning sunlight; the waxen flowers of the stephanotis and gardenia glistened like snow against their dark-green foliage; masses of delicate tropical ferns grew all around in rich profusion; gorgeous butterflies flittered hither and thither across our path.
A delicate gossamer mist hung over the harbour, converting those great iron monsters of civilization into phantom ships, as we were rowed across the water to our steamer, bound for Colombo.
Oh, what was it induced Chang, the now virtuous and reformed dog, to bolt down the gangway and on to the quay just as we were about to sail from Hong Kong? Heedless of all else but that my well-beloved was leaving me, I tore after him, on and on along the quay, into the hot and steaming town. What cared I for the frantic shouts from my father on board, or the wild excitement of John Chinaman, who, seeing the mad chase, added yet to the general confusion by his hideous yells?
At last I captured the runaway, and, breathless and spent, we sank together in a heap on the muddy road. A few minutes later, an exhausted and disreputable pair were to be seen wending their way back to the quay, the deserter firmly secured by a chain.
I wonder if that wicked dog had any self-reproach for my feelings when, on arriving at the docks, I saw to my horror the Kaiser had departed with all my worldly possessions on board, including money; and was slowly, but surely, steaming out of the harbour.
What was to be done?