The men worked hard; the traces of the fiery trial disappeared from the great storehouse, save that the charring and the pitch-stains refused to be scraped out; barricades disappeared, and partitions and stacks of chests and bales rose again in their old places; the carpenters cut out damaged wood, and with the exception of new-looking patches the place assumed its former aspect, while the business in the office and counting-house went on again as if the whole ugly blood-shedding had been only a feverish dream.
Wing had not yet returned, but one afternoon Stan was busy in the office talking to Blunt about a boatload of tea which had come down from the interior—for the manager had progressed so rapidly that he was well on the high-road to complete recovery. Naturally he was a good deal pulled down, hollow of cheek and sunken of eye, and compelled to assist his steps by means of a stout bamboo cane, while the arm nearest to the injury was supported by a silken scarf used as a sling. But he was bright and cheerful, and busy in the office some hours every day, working, as he called it, vicariously, Stan being his deputy, who superintended a great deal of the correspondence that went on.
“No news yet of Wing,” he was saying. “Seems a very long time, Lynn.”
“Oh no; it’s a long way, and there might be some delay over getting the supplies you want.”
“S’pose so,” said Blunt abruptly. “Good job our piratical friends don’t know of it or they’d come down at once. Hullo! What’s that?”
Lawrence rose and went to the window to see what was the meaning of a loud gabble of voices coming from the wharf.
“It’s a boat coming in,” he said.
“Oh, Wing at last!” said Blunt. “Well, I’m very glad. A good supply of ammunition is just the tonic that will pull me round.”
“It may be, sir, but I hardly think so,” replied Lawrence. “It’s the Chee-ho come back.”
“With that miserable sneak Mao. Cowardly hound to slip off as he did. Here, I’ll have a talk with him when he comes ashore. No more boatloads for him, he’ll find.—What say, Lynn? I’m weak yet—not get in a passion?”