“Pleece he nevir too muchee quick,” returned the man, coolly. “We knows what we’s can do. Hai, yach!”
Edgar sat down with a sharp sigh of discontent, and waited for more.
“Well?”
“Well,” repeated the policeman, “there be steam-boat here now—go for Borneo quick.”
“At once!” cried Edgar, starting up and seizing his hat, “why did you not—”
“Sh! Keepee cool, you no ’casion makes so fashion,” interrupted the policeman, who thereupon went on to explain that on his arrival in Hong-Kong he had gone at once to head-quarters, before delivering his message to Edgar, in order to make himself master of all the news about town that was worth knowing, or likely in any way to advance the interest of those whom he sought to serve. Among other things he had learned the important fact that, two days before his arrival, a small gun-boat, belonging to a certain Rajah of Borneo, and commanded by a certain Scotchman, and employed for the express purpose of hunting up and rooting out the pirates of the China seas, had put in to the port for repairs. He had hurried down to the gun-boat in time to prevent her departure, had told his story, and had just come from her to say that her captain would like much to see Mr Berrington.
On hearing this, Edgar again started up and eagerly ordered the native policeman to guide him to the gun-boat in question without another moment’s delay. He was followed, of course, by his male companions, who were nearly as much interested in the matter as himself. They were soon on the deck of the gun-boat.
It was a neat trim screw-steamer of small size, 180 tons burthen, and manned by about sixty Malays and a few Englishmen. Everything on board was as bright and orderly as if it had been a British man-of-war. Her commander received the visitors on the quarter-deck. He looked like one who was eminently well qualified to hunt up, run down, cut out, or in any other mode make away with pirates. There was much of the bull-terrier in him—solid, broad, short, large-chested—no doubt also large-hearted—active, in the prime of life, with short black curly hair, a short black beard and moustache, a square chin, a pleasant smile, a prominent nose, and an eagle eye. Indeed he might himself have made a splendid chief of the very race against which he waged “war to the knife.”
“Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr Berrington,” said the captain, holding out his hand. “The native policeman has told me all about your friends—I understand them to be such?”
“Yes—intimate friends.”