One soon becomes conversant with the business talk, for "pidgin" means "business" in the mind of the trader and the coolie (or labourer). But let me resume my narrative.
The night was very chilly, and the early morning misty, as my companion roused me up and told me that we must be going. Let it be remembered that our conversations were only carried on piecemeal, and when I mention them you must understand that signs assisted us greatly. But the man was honest, I believed, and had no thought of any treachery towards me. We conversed in southern dialect a little, and made signs.
We presently reached a river which I learned was called Pilu (or Pihliu), and proceeded to a small village where we got some food, which I did not relish, but had to eat in order to keep up my character. We learned that the invaders were expected, and that it would be better for us to keep away to the north-west, else we might get into trouble. We therefore assented, and passed on for a while, intending to change our route as soon as possible, but fate had ordained otherwise. My companion had intended to proceed in the direction of Putsewo, and then strike westward again, marching by a compass and map which I had secured in my tunic, but when we took the advice of the well-meaning villagers we left our former direction, and when again essaying to recover our route we came to grief. For a long time we wandered amidst the hills and rough country seeking a track, but finding nothing promising, until almost suddenly we descended a hillside and found ourselves near a rather substantial village, from which there was no escape without questioning from the natives.
Hoko quickly gave me to understand that I was his brother, that we were South Chinamen seeking a ship at Port Arthur, and that we had been north and intended to return to Chefoo.[[1]] We had rehearsed this little play before, and my South-China lingo was supposed sufficient to deceive the Mongolians. If necessary, my guide informed me, a little "geomaney," or "wind and weather" fortune-telling, would keep suspicion at bay. So, primed with a few simple maxims, I braced myself for the encounter.
[[1]] Chefoo or Chifu.—H.F.
The natives were decidedly of the race of Didymus. They did not credit half our assurance, and we—at least I—wished we had more of it. Certainly the interpreter remained as cool as possible, and his calm method of lying would have discredited Ananias of old, and deceived St. Peter himself. I give my impressions of the examination to which the interpreter was subjected.
"Your name?" demanded the chief of the villagers.
"Ho-wuh-Chang."
"Where do you come from?"
"Panchwang, in the province of Fuhkien."