LO SAN'S PILGRIMAGE
Startled from sleep by the mingled din of shots and yells, Errington sprang from his bed, and seizing his revolver, rushed to the door of his little bungalow and unlocked it. It was thrown back in his face, and before he could recover himself, the weapon was knocked from his hand, and he found himself on the floor, with a dozen villainous-looking, ragged and dirty Chinamen on top of him, screeching at the pitch of their voices. He understood not a word of what they said; none of them could speak even pidgin-English: had he known Chinese he would have learnt that the "foreign devil" was destined to be carried to the arch-leader of the insurrection. Su Fing had an old grudge to pay off against him. The brigand had taken particular trouble to ascertain the dwelling of the young Englishman to whom he owed a deep scar on his learned brow, and a period of imprisonment which, though short, had left a rankling sore in his aspiring soul.
Errington made his captors understand by signs that he preferred not to face the world in his pyjamas, and was allowed to dress himself in their presence, amid a battery of remarks more or less offensive, but luckily incomprehensible to him. His hands were then tied behind him, and he was hurried down to the quay, placed on board a gunboat, and carried up the river.
His captors, squatting about him with their spears held upright in their hands, may perhaps have been surprised at the smile upon the young Englishman's face. Errington was, in fact, amused at his situation--rather relieved than dismayed. This was the very day on which he had promised to pay his debt to Reinhardt--the end of the week of grace. He had gone to bed feeling that next day he would be ruined and shamed; to find himself the prisoner of Chinese rebels, who were carrying him he knew not where, but certainly out of Reinhardt's reach, struck him as a comical trick of fate. At that moment he felt almost affectionate towards the ugly ruffians who were squinting at him.
Meanwhile some of the rebel band were making themselves very free with his belongings. They ransacked his wardrobe, appropriated his rifle, his silver cups and other trophies of athletic prowess, tossed about his papers and a pack of cards they discovered in a drawer, and gathered up into bundles all that they deemed worth looting. One of them, passing into the out-buildings at the back, caught Lo San by the pigtail, and soundly thrashed him for being so evil-disposed as to serve a European master. The cook and the other domestics had already seen the error of their ways and left without notice.
It would perhaps have surprised any one who had seen Lo San only on the occasion of the adventure in the swamp, to find that he alone of Errington's household had not fled at this climax of his master's misfortunes. But Lo San was made of good stuff. He might tremble before a pirate, but his soul was staunch to the master who had been kind to him and paid him well. The devotion of his native servant is a gift which many an Englishman in the East has learnt to prize.
Lo San hung about the house, having received his thrashing meekly, until the looters had stripped it bare. When they had gone away, he wandered disconsolately through the disordered rooms; nothing of value was left, but he collected the scattered papers and the pack of cards: "Massa velly muchee likee he," he murmured.
Then he sat down to think. He was very sore, in body and mind; and very poor, for his castigator had snatched away the little bag, hung at his waist, in which he kept his store of cash. "Massa Ellington" was gone, and it seemed to Lo San that he would know no peace of mind until he at least discovered his master's fate. "Supposey he come back sometime," he thought, "and look-see my belongey 'nother massa! My no catchee plopa pidgin[#] that time, galaw!" And after an hour's solemn meditation he got up, groaning as the movement reminded him of his stripes, and went out into the town.
[#] That won't be good business.
Outside a mean little eating-house he saw a group of insurgents eating a breakfast (for which they had not paid) of fat pork, rice and beans, washed down with tea. He looked at them hard; none of the looters of his master's bungalow were among them; and it occurred to him that, as he had probably a long journey before him, it was sound sense to fortify himself with a meal. But he had no money; and though he guessed, by the lugubrious countenance of the eating-house keeper in the background, that the eaters had none either, or at any rate would not part with any, he was shy of joining himself to them uninvited. All at once a happy thought struck him. He put on an engaging air of cheerful humility, and addressing the group in the terms of flowery compliment that come natural to a Chinaman, he offered to show them a little magic in return for food. Being as comfortable and content as men may be who have fed well at another's expense, they gave a glad assent, and Lo San, squatting before them, produced the pack of cards. He was a very watchful and observant person, and, silent and unnoticed in his master's room, had looked on sometimes when Errington amused his company with those tricks that seem to the uninitiated such marvels of thought-reading. He had picked up the secrets of one or two, and now for a good hour he amazed and mystified the rebels with simple tricks which he had to repeat over and over again.