“They’d better mob us!” cried Smith. “If they give me any of their nonsense, I’ll take tails instead of scalps. My! what fools they do look, with their thick-soled shoes, long blue gowns, and shaven heads!”
“That fellow in the boat is grinning at us, and thinks we look fools, I said.”
“Let him!” said Barkins. “We know better.”
“But what are we going to do?” I said. “I hate being in a crowd.”
“Oh, they won’t crowd us,” said Barkins contemptuously. “Here, hi! you sir; mind where you’re going. There, I thought you’d do it!”
This was to a young Chinaman, in a boat something like a Venetian gondola, which he was propelling by one oar as he stood up in the bows watching us, and was rowing one moment, the next performing a somersault in the air before plunging into the water between the port oars of our boat with a tremendous splash.
I did not say anything, thinking that it was a case of running up against a man, and then crying, “Where are you shoving to?” but leaned over the side, and caught at the first thing I saw, which happened to be the long black plaited pigtail, and, hauling upon it, the yellow, frightened face appeared, two wet hands clutched my arm, and, amidst a tremendous outburst of shouting in a highly-pitched tone, boats crowded round us, and the man was restored to his sampan, which was very little damaged by the blow inflicted by our stem.
“Give way, my lads,” cried Barkins, and we rowed on towards the landing-place, followed by a furious yelling; men shaking their fists, and making signs suggestive of how they would like to serve us if they had us there.
“I’m sorry you knocked him over,” I said.
“Who knocked him over, stupid?” cried Barkins. “Why, he ran right across our bows. Oh, never mind him! I daresay he wanted washing. I don’t care. Of course, I shouldn’t have liked it if he had been drowned.”