“Well, then, I’ll tell you. I’m master, king, magistrate, doctor, everything to them. They come to me about their quarrels and their ailments; to get their money, and then bank it with me; and the reason I believe in them and they believe in me is because I am just as fair as in me lies. If I find a man skulking and kick him, do you think the others side with him?”
“I should expect them to,” said Stan.
“Then you’re wrong. They roar with laughter, and enjoy seeing their fellow punished. They’re shrewd enough, and know that the idler is putting his share of work upon them. If there’s a quarrel amongst them they come to me to settle it. If a man’s sick he comes to me, and I try to set him right. Nurse him up sometimes. When they want a treat they come to me to draw out part of their earnings that I have banked for them. Bah! I’m not going to preach a sermon about what I do. I’m just to them, I tell you, and they know it. I trust them, and they trust me. Come along; let’s go and see how they’re getting on with the unloading. Let’s go in here, though, first.”
He led the way by stacks of bales and piles of tea-chests, all neatly arranged like a wall—a great cube built up from floor to ceiling—and passing through an opening, went down a narrow alley in the great store-room, with a wall of half-chests built up on either side, and entered an open doorway to where half-a-dozen clerks and warehousemen were busy. The former were making out bills of lading and entries in books, the latter sampling teas—one with little piles of the dried leaves in cardboard trays, which he was testing in rotation; while another sat at a table upon which was a copper contrivance standing upon a slab of granite, with a glowing charcoal fire burning beneath a bright urn, the fumes and steam being carried off by a little metal tube funnel which passed out through the top of an open chimney.
Right and left of this employee was a row of little earthenware Chinese teapots, and as many cups and saucers; the pots being labelled as they were used with cards attached to the handles, and marked with letters and numbers corresponding with those on the little cardboard trays containing the dried tea.
“Mr Stanley Lynn, gentlemen,” said the manager sharply. “He has come in his uncle’s place to stay with us for a time.”
The introduction was brief, and then the lad was hurried out on to the wharf, where the manager made his appearance suddenly. His presence acted like a stimulus, setting every one working at a double rate of speed, in spite of the scorching sun, which was beginning to glow with so much fervour that the strange gum used to caulk the seams of the great junk in process of being unloaded began to ooze out and form brown globules like little tadpoles with tails.
Everything was new and interesting to Stan, and the day passed very quickly, the manager seeming eager to explain everything to his new colleague; and, saving when now and then he burst out into fierce invectives against offending coolies and the tindal of the junk, he was mildness itself.
Stan could hardly believe it when closing-time came and the men ceased work.
“Didn’t think it was so late?” said Blunt, laughing.