“The Great Spirit protect His slave, but it is the sahibs!” he exclaimed, affectionately, not embracing, but smelling us both.
“Yes, Kati, we are the sahibs, there is no doubt about it,” said Martin; “and if you will not laugh at us for a couple of simpletons, I will tell you how it happens that we are here, like masquerading ourang-outangs”; and then he related our adventure with the professed story-teller, to which Kati, having listened attentively, replied:
“That Chinese is a dog, and the son of a dog! The sahibs could not help themselves, for he had mixed with the mangosteen the Kachubong.”[C]
“Come, Claud, that’s refreshing; for, of course, it was no more our fault than if we had been stabbed in the dark, or shot at by some sneak from behind a tree,” said Martin.
“The sahib is right, but if catchee long-tailed dog, he rob no man more,” replied Kati, savagely, fingering the handle of his creese; and then he completely restored us, or at least my brother, to good humor, by telling us that it was a trick commonly practiced upon the natives by the Chinese, illustrating it by an adventure that one of his shipmates had met with about a year before.
This man, being upon a journey up one of the rivers, was accosted by a Chinese from the bank, who requested a passage, for which he tendered a fare and a share of his food. The sailor received him, and ate heartily of the viands, which, being mixed with the datura, induced stupor and heavy sleep; and when he awoke, he found himself lying stark naked in a forest, fifteen miles distant from the place where he had taken in the Chinese, robbed of his canoe and all his property.
As I have said, the tide was with us; we were not, therefore, long in reaching the prahu, on board of which we were most heartily welcomed by Prabu, who embraced us after the European fashion. Indeed, so disconsolate had he been at our absence, and so delighted was he at seeing us safe again on board, that he had but few words to say of the rogue of a Chinese, or our loss of game and arms. As for our wild shipmates, they crowded around to listen to our story, and having heard it, flourished their creeses as savagely as if the Chinese had been before them; all of which so pleased my brother, that I can only describe it, at the risk of being thought vulgar, in his own words:
“These fellows, Claud, are ‘jolly bricks.’ Hang me, if one of them has laughed at us! But, by Jingo, the fellows at our school would have chaffed us not a little, if we, after nutting in the woods, had shown ourselves in such a precious costume.”
“Ay, Martin; but then our schoolfellows were civilized, and these men are only savages!”
“Why, Claud, do you mean to say that the more civilized we are, the more prone are we to laugh at the misfortunes of our fellows?”