“Yes,” cried the captain; “tell these gentlemen that they are heartily welcome on board Her Majesty’s ship.”
Ching nodded, and, bowing down humbly, gazed at the white deck, and squeaked out a long speech to the contemptuous-looking Chinese official, who stood in front of his attendants, each in his long, stiff, embroidered silk dressing-gown; and what seemed the most comically effeminate was that the gorgeous officers, with rat-tail moustachios and armed with monstrous swords, each carried a fan, which he used constantly.
“He’s putting an awful lot of fat in the captain’s speech,” whispered Barkins, who was just behind me.
Then the chief of the party said a few words, without condescending to notice the interpreter, and Ching backed away, to turn to the captain.
“His most noble excellency the big-buttoned mandalin has come on board the gleat fine ship with his genelals, and blavest of the blave, to fetch the most wicked and double-bad plisoners whom the gleat sea captain of the foleign devils—”
“Eh! what?” said Captain Thwaites. “Did he say that?”
“Yes. Come fetch allee bad bad plisoners velly much all together.”
“Very well,” said the captain; “tell him he can have them, and welcome.”
Ching approached the mandarin again, in his former humble form, and made another long speech; after which the great official turned to one of his attendants and said something; this gorgeous being turned and spoke to another; and he went to the gangway and stood fanning himself as he squeaked out something to the soldiers in the second boat.
Then an order was given, and in a curious shambling way about forty soldiers came up the steps, and ranged themselves in a double row, something after the fashion of our drilling.