Higher up we saw men busy with nets which were attached to the end of a great bamboo pole, balanced upon a strong upright post fixed in the river’s bottom, and by means of this balanced pole the net was let down into the depths of the river, and hoisted from time to time, sometimes with a few glittering little fish within the meshes, sometimes having nothing but weed.
“Yes, catchee fish; catchee velly big fish some time.”
About ten minutes after, Ching pulled my sleeve and pointed to the other side of the river, where I caught sight of a very familiar old friend sitting in his boat, just as I had seen him in an old picture-book at home.
There he sat with a big umbrella-like sunshade fixed up over him on a bamboo pole, in front of him a kind of platform spread across the front of his moored boat, and upon it sat perched eight or nine of my old friends the cormorants, one of which dived into the river from time to time, and soon after emerged and made its way back to the boat with a fish in its beak.
“See that, Mr Brooke?” I cried eagerly. “I suppose we can’t stop to watch them?”
“Not when on Her Majesty’s service, Herrick,” he said, with a smile, and we glided rapidly on, till the houses, which had long been growing scattered, finally disappeared, and we were following the windings of the river in company with a few small junks and sampans, which seemed bound for one of the cities higher up the great waterway.
“Shoot bird now,” said Ching, in answer to an inquiring look from Mr Brooke.
“Yes; but do you think the junks are up here?”
“Oh yes, velly quite su’e. Plenty eye in boat watchee see what Queen Victolia offlicer going to do uppee river.”
“What does he mean?” said Mr Brooke, who was puzzled by this last rather enigmatical speech. “Of course we have watchful eyes in our boat, but I don’t see anything yet worth watching.”