“Of what, sir?”
“Of the plan of operations.”
“No, sir.”
“Good! One doesn’t want them to be known until the show’s over. Now you’re one of us, it’s only right that you should know what you’ve been let in for when I requested the commander-in-chief for the loan of a midshipman. Sit you down. You’ll have an iced drink?”
The lieutenant-commander touched a bell and gave an order to a Chinese messman.
Raxworthy sat down in one of the cane lounge chairs in the captain’s cabin, which was in the superstructure amidships. Owing to her shallow draught—she drew only two feet six inches aft— Sandgrub’s internal arrangements were very differently planned from those of sea-going units of the navy. The cabin extended the whole width of the superstructure. The bulkheads, to a height of four feet, were of steel and thick enough to stop a rifle bullet. The windows were of plate glass—square and not of the scuttle type—and were fitted with jalousies, or sliding louvres, to admit air, but to exclude the glaring sunlight. At the present time they were lowered, giving Raxworthy a wide view of the animated river scene.
“It’s a complicated business,” continued Wilverley. “Six hundred miles up the Yang-tse a cheerful old gentleman, who is known to the Chinese as Fu-so-li, has been raising Cain. He’s not a pukka Chinaman—far from it. I understand that his father was a Russian who had married a Korean woman, and that he had been brought up in a Buddhist monastery until he kicked over the traces.
“At the present time Fu-so-li is at the head of a few thousand bandits. The Chinese Government either cannot flatten him out or doesn’t want to, and they’ve requested the British to do it for them. Strictly speaking the whole business is irregular. We have no right to interfere with the internal affairs of China, even at its government’s request.”
“The Japs would take the job on quick enough,” observed Raxworthy.
“Undoubtedly,” agreed the lieutenant-commander drily; “but, unfortunately, the Chinese—quite rightly in my opinion—have an idea that if the Japs get a hold in any Chinese territory it takes a deuce of a lot to shift ’em—if ever! Luckily for us there is an excuse. Fu-so-li has taken it into his head to loot and burn a trading station managed by an Englishman—a Mr. Blakeborough. Blakeborough is missing—probably he will be held to ransom—but Fu declares that he was carried off by a smaller and rival gang who, apparently, are in the peculiar position of being outlawed by the Chinese Government and at the same time in conflict with Fu-so-li’s crowd. That may be all eye-wash on Fu’s part; the fact remains we’re off up the Yang-tse to square things up, put Fu in irons and release Blakeborough. Now you’d better sling your hammock and make yourself acquainted with the internal arrangements of the ship.”