The quarter-master grunts, as much as to say, “Well, I’m damned!” He hands the gun to the surgeon in the wardroom and says, “Chinaman to see you, sir.”
“Show him down, quarter-master,” replies the surgeon, and the venerable Chinaman is conducted to the wardroom.
“Well,” says the surgeon, “what’s to prevent me, now I’ve got my gun back, from having you pushed over the side into your sampan and being told never to come near the ship again?”
The Chinaman smiles and says, “Nothing, except a foolish sense of honour which prevents you from getting out of a promise you’ve once made, even if you know you’ve been badly swindled. When I sent your gun down to you I knew you might have me thrown into the river, and with some justice on your side, but I also knew that, being a white man, you would stick to your promise and pay me the twenty dollars you agreed on yesterday. I don’t admire you for it, but I know your Western ways.”
“Look here,” says the surgeon, “you speak devilish good English; here’s your twenty dollars, and now we’re quits. Have a drink, and tell us something about yourself.”
“I will,” replies the Chinaman, “but whether you believe it or not matters little. I call myself Fung Wa Chun,” and the story of Fung Wa Chun as heard by the surgeon remains to be told.
THE STORY OF FUNG WA CHUN