"Great guns!" said Peter. He wondered if he could catch the Nanking express; there was a Chinese steamer leaving Nanking for up-river to-morrow noon.
There was a humble voice at his elbow. A deck-boy was grinning dreamily at him; a queer flicker darted across his green eyes, vanished.
"Jen!" exclaimed Peter, glimpsing an abbreviated pigtail.
"Aie!" said the deck-boy.
"The man from the Jen Kee Road place!"
The deck-steward seemed puzzled. "My no savvy," he said. His look became dreamy again, reminiscent.
"But you can speak English as well as 'pidgin,'" declared Peter, frowning. "You did last night!"
"My savvy 'pidgin,'" said Jen brightly. "China allatime funny place! China no can savvy allatime funny people! Funny!"
"What's that?" snapped Peter. He was baffled and angry. Had Jen played the leading part in the mysterious and grim comedy of last night, or was he only a work coolie, a deck-steward, harmless, innocuous, babbling happily in his limited knowledge of a strange language?
The deck-boy was pointing up-river with a long, yellow finger.