“‘Honourable stranger, it seems to me that you contemplate suicide. Many people attempt to pass over to their ancestors in this river, but almost invariably before drowning they wish to be saved, and it is then that I come in—in other words, I save them from death, and moreover I will do the same for you, for indeed I am sadly in need of funds. So, fair sir, I beg of you to do the deed speedily, for night approaches.’
“I explained that I was indeed an unhappy person, and at that very moment had contemplated suicide, being absolutely devoid of even a single ‘cash.’ At this he altered his tone, and said that if I were without money then I had his full permission to drown, for that nothing put him in a worse temper than to save people who were unable to requite him for his services. I liked the fellow for his honesty, and begged him to explain further. He then told me that his profession was one of life-saver, that people frequently fell into the water at the ferry, that he was always at hand to pull them out, and that by the gratitude of those he thus saved he made a living, but that unfortunately of late travellers were few; for days no one had tried to cross the ferry, and that should trade continue to be in its present stagnant state he would surely starve. His tale excited my sympathy. Here was a fellow-creature in as sad a case as myself, and for some time I sat by him in silence, idly gazing at the muddy stream, and seeing the blue-clothed people returning by the stone-paved path at the river’s side from their day’s work in the fields. Suddenly an idea seized me. I jumped up.
“‘Wait,’ said I to the sad man by the ferry, ‘and you shall yet earn some money by nightfall.’ With which I ran in apparent great haste up the causeway by the river bank. I kept on at my topmost speed, and people made way for me on the narrow pathway, but singling out the better class of wayfarer, I apparently by accident charged into them and hurled them into the stream. On I kept, in spite of the cries and execrations behind me. My large bulk and strength forced all to go into the water whom I deemed worthy of being rescued, and so I continued until quite exhausted and the darkness was almost complete. I must have pushed some eight or ten people into the river by the time I stopped, and then, wishing to rejoin my new friend, I too jumped in, and was rapidly carried, with little effort, towards the ferry. As I drew near the spot, swimming just to keep afloat, I heard wild shouts from the bank, and almost at once I felt myself seized by the collar, my head was thrust under the water, I received several severe kicks in the back, and when quite exhausted and almost drowned I was dragged ashore, and found that the person who had ill-used me so severely was none other than my friend the life-saver. His annoyance at finding that it was me he had saved soon gave way to feelings of gratitude for the services I had rendered by supplying him with material on which to exercise his professional skill. Of the seven people he had saved all had some money with them, and the few who had escaped him and had drowned he trusted possessed nothing of value. So, greatly cheered, we two retired to the village and dined together in the inn, and over a bottle of samshu that night we formed a compact to be partners in saving life.
“Being a stranger in the neighbourhood, it was for a few days easy for me to push people off the tow-path, and we did a good trade, but soon people became careful and suspicious and would not walk singly near the river-side. My partner was a man of hasty temper, and his manner became more and more disagreeable towards me as trade became worse. It became daily more and more difficult to earn a living, and one night, my partner having made some disparaging remarks about the zeal with which I carried out my part of our agreement, I determined to make a desperate effort the next day to supply him with subjects on which to practise his professional skill. Warily I trudged near the tow-path, but only the most indigent dared to use it. I went further afield, but could meet no one who was unaccompanied. At last, desperate and hungry, late in the afternoon, I struck away from the river bank towards the foothills. Some mile and a half from the river I found a woodcutter. He fled from me, but I rushed on and pounced upon him. A sharp struggle ensued, no one was by to help him, and his cries passed unheeded. My strength soon overpowered him, and I carried him screaming and shouting to the deserted river bank, and with a supreme effort hurled him into the muddy current. Then, thoroughly exhausted, I wearily made my way back to the ferry. On arriving there I found my partner in the most evil temper I had ever seen him in; in fact, he was in such a towering rage with me that he could scarcely speak. He had saved the man, but it appeared he was an indigent second cousin of my partner, and so far from being able to reward he had signified his intention of remaining with and living on his rescuer, arguing that the person who had prolonged such an unhappy life as his had incurred the responsibility of keeping that life going, and that henceforth, if he died of starvation, then his death would lie at the door of his rescuer. I think some unreasonably offensive remarks were hurled at me on this occasion, both by the rescuer and the rescued, so I left their company and that night slept unfed and uncovered in the fields.”
“But what’s all that got to do with your never laughing?” says Jack.
“And I don’t believe that story,” adds Dorothy. “You wouldn’t drown the puppies the other day, so I’m certain you never pushed people into a river.”
It was true. Hong, as a Buddhist, had scruples about the taking of life, and had recently failed to do away with certain blind puppies that were considered superfluous in the Consular household. If it were possible for a Chinaman to look disconcerted, then Hong would have looked it at that moment, with the eyes of both children fixed on him. His love for talking to them and engaging their attention had led him into spinning an endless yarn, but now he was brought up suddenly with a round turn.
“It is true, high-born one, this miserable individual had forgotten; but wait, and soon, Excellencies, you shall learn how this despicable individual was taught not to laugh. It being necessary for me to live somehow, I tried to earn a few cash by reciting passages from my plays at any small village where I could gather together an audience. I found that my fine declamations of heroic parts met with but little favour; but when I repeated some of the ancient jests of our comedian I met with some slighter success. It so happened that one day, starving and miserable, I stood on the cement threshing-floor before the inn of a small village, reciting the funniest jests I could remember, in a melancholy voice, to a dull and unappreciative audience of rustics, when, unnoticed by me, a high official, accompanied by his retinue, had ridden up to the outskirts of the crowd. It appeared that he listened to my merry jibes, and at the same time carefully scrutinised my miserable and utterly woe-begone appearance, and when I had finished my recital and collected what I could from my audience he entered the inn and summoned me to his presence by one of his servants. On entering the great man’s presence in the guest-room of the inn, he informed me that it was his pleasure to take me into his service, that I was to attach myself to his train, and that my duties would be made plain to me later on. Being in sorry straits I was willing to accept any fate, and so journeyed with his retinue to Foh Lin, of which town and district I found my new master to be magistrate. Arrived at his Yamen, I was given a room to myself and a generous meal, of which I stood greatly in need; after which I felt once more a man, my old confidence in myself returned, and when later a servant entered and burst into uncontrollable laughter, I felt ready to join in his merriment could I but learn the cause of it.
“‘Come,’ I said, ‘speak! Why this outward seeming of internal merriment?’
“After several ineffectual attempts to explain, he managed in the intervals of laughter to tell me that to laugh was the greatest privilege imaginable in that Yamen. He then further explained that the magistrate was a man who had never experienced any of the emotions common to ordinary mortals, that he was the most amusing person himself; he knew no fear, no sorrow, no pain, and had never been known to laugh. The sound of merriment was most objectionable to him, and was invariably visited with the most rigorous punishments in the case of anyone who so far forgot himself as to laugh in his magisterial presence. That he had singled me out as fitted for his service because I could apparently tell funny stories and at the same time preserve a countenance like a well-worn boot.