“No, no; you don’t understand,” I cried, laughing. “We give you six dollars instead of three.”
Ching nodded, and the silver money disappeared up his sleeve. Then his body writhed a little, and the arm and hand appeared again in the loose sleeve.
“Sailor boy ’teal Ching dollar?”
“Oh no,” I said confidently.
“No pullee tail?”
“Ah, that I can’t answer for,” I said. “Twist it up tightly.”
“To be sure,” said Barkins. “It don’t do to put temptation in the poor fellows’ way. I’m afraid,” he continued, “that if I saw that hanging out of a hammock I should be obliged to have a tug.”
Ching nodded, and stole away again into the darkness, for night had fallen now, and we were beginning to feel the waves dancing under us.
An hour later I was in my cot fast asleep, and dreaming of fierce-looking Chinamen in showy-patterned coats making cuts at me with big swords, which were too blunt to cut, but which gave me plenty of pain, and this continued more or less all night. In the morning I knew the reason why, my left side was severely bruised, and for the next few days I could not move about without a reminder of the terrible cut the mandarin’s retainer had made at me with his sword.