Missee Lee: The Swallows and Amazons in the China Seas

by Arthur Ransome

  “Land breeze at night with luck,” said Captain Flint. “We won’t stand much of a chance if we have to tack. Take us too long getting out.” And then, as John and Nancy began talking about the ropes of the junk and wishing they had had a chance of feeling for themselves how she steered, he swept the subject away. “We’re not aboard yet,” he said. “One thing at a time. What we’ve got to think about now is dragons.”

  They hurried on up the slopes beyond the rice-fields till they came to the place from which they could look down into the gorge and see that narrow bridge, without even a handrail, crossing from cliff to cliff.

  “Nancy,” said Roger, “did you look down when they carried us across? I did.”

  “Think of Miss Lee taking a boat through that,” said Nancy.

  ‘Telescope, Titty,” said Captain Flint. “It’s a dragon all right,” he said a moment later.

  “Let’s look,” said Roger.

  The telescope was passed from hand to hand. High on the cliff at the other side of the gorge a dragon was winding its way out from among the rocks on the road to the bridge.

  “Listen! Listen!” said Titty.

  They heard a steady drumming noise, and now and then snatches of queer tuneless shrilling on a flute.

  “Look at the one dancing in front,” said Roger.

  “Your job,” said Captain Flint. “Have a good look and take a lesson from him.”

  “Look at him jumping,” said Roger. “Spinning. … He’s whirling something round his head.”

  “A gourd like yours,” said Captain Flint.

  “Snakes and centipedes,” said Nancy, “the dragon’s got a thousand legs.”

  Far away on the other side of the gorge a man in bright red clothes and a pointed red hat was leaping, somersaulting, high-kicking, jumping up and spinning in the air, and whirling some sort of ball at the end of a string in front of the dragon’s monstrous head. The head swung from side to side, and behind it the whole shining length of the dragon twisted this way and that. Through the telescope they could see the legs of the men who were carrying the dragon flickering beneath it. This way and that the legs ran. This way and that the long body of the dragon snaked its way after the dancing man.

  “I haven’t got a hat like that,” said Roger. “And I haven’t got the proper clothes.”

  “What does he do it for?” asked Titty.

  “A pearl,” said Captain Flint. “That’s what it’s meant for. A pearl to tempt the dragon.”

  “Carrot for a donkey,” said Nancy. “All right, Roger. You’ve got a beauty.”

  “We could make him a hat,” said Susan.

  Roger, watching carefully, tried a kick or two.

  “I say,” he said, “they’ll have to stop snaking when they come to the bridge.”

  As the dragon came near the bridge, the dancing man ran on ahead and the dragon straightened out like a rope to follow him.

  “Look at him showing off,” said Roger, as the dancing man stopped in the middle of the narrow bridge, turned round and did a jump and spin. “I say, hadn’t we better go home and practise.”

  “Let’s just see it cross,” said Nancy.

  The dragon crossed the bridge soberly and safely and they saw that its legs had decided that they had earned a rest. They lifted the long body of the dragon on their bamboo poles and laid it on the ground, limp and dead like the one in Dragon Town. The legs gathered in groups to smoke their pipes, and through the telescope Nancy saw that they were mopping the sweat from their faces.

  “Come on,” said John, “we’d better get back to our own dragon. We know what to do now, but we’ll never be able to do it as well as that.”

  “Of course we will,” said Nancy.

  They almost ran back to the town. People at the side of the road across the rice-fields shouted questions to them. They guessed that they were being asked if the Turtle dragon was in sight and pointed back over their shoulders. Then they passed people who were looking across the river. In the distance, on the road leading down from the long hill of Tiger Island, another dragon was snaking on its way towards the ferry.

  “Chang’s lot,” said Captain Flint.

  “Come on,” said Nancy. “Go it, Titty.”

  At the gateway in the town wall a crowd was waiting. News had somehow reached them that the other dragons had been sighted. Inside the town people were hurrying, some towards the ferry, others towards the southern gate. In the main street the legs of the Dragon Island dragon were getting ready to swing it into action. They raced past, into the courtyard to Miss Lee’s yamen, and so to their own rooms, where the little dragon, cut down to fit, was in a heap on the floor, with its great head gaping towards the door into the garden.

  Roger grabbed the gilded gourd on the end of its rope and began swinging it round and round his head.

  “Look out, you little idiot,” cried Captain Flint, as the gourd missed him by an inch. “My head’s tough enough, but if you smash that pearl we shan’t be able to get another. Go out into the garden.”

  “There’s someone there,” said Titty. “Miss Lee and a lot of the others.”

  “Give Roger a room to himself,” said Nancy. “Go on in there. And for goodness’ sake keep in the middle when you swing that thing. That’s all right. Higher than that. Higher. Now, right off the ground with both legs and do a spin.”

  “Keep that up and you’ll do all right,” said Captain Flint, watching in safety from the doorway.

  “Come here, Roger,” said Susan, needle and thread in one hand and a bit of scarlet stuff from the dragon’s underskin in the other. “Let me get the size of your head.”

  Nancy and Peggy were cutting narrow strips of red and yellow and threading them on a piece of string.

  The hubbub from the town grew louder. Suddenly there was a rattle of firecrackers near at hand.

  “Starting early with the ammunition,” said Captain Flint.

  “They’re here,” said Nancy, as the noise of drums, bamboo flutes and firecrackers was drowned in a great outburst of shouting at the yamen gates. “Don’t be a donk, Roger. Stand still.”

  “I only hope it’ll stick on,” said Susan. “Anyhow, it’s the best I can do.”

  “Now for it,” said Captain Flint. “We do a round of the town before the feast. The main thing to remember is to watch the feet of the man in front of you.”

  “And step just where they step,” said Nancy, “so that we get a proper wavy waggle. Great chop-sticks, I wish there were fifty more of us. Twelve legs to a dragon is pretty measly compared with those centipedes.”

  “Never mind,” said Captain Flint. “Each leg must do its duty. We’ve just got to be a popular turn. If we get booed the whole plan goes to blazes.”

  “What?” said Roger. “What plan?”

  “Wait and see,” said Captain Flint.

  The amah was beckoning at the garden door. “Missee Lee say walkee,” she said, and suddenly laughed as she saw Roger jumping for practice with his scarlet hat on his head and the string round his middle from which dozens of red and yellow streamers flapped like flames. “Walkee this way,” she said and was gone.

  “If we can get a grin out of that old enemy, we’re all right,” said Captain Flint. “Slowly at first, till we get the hang of it.”

  Roger, swinging his silvered gourd at the end of its rope went out first. He looked this way and that. The amah was standing outside Miss Lee’s and pointed the way they were to go. There was no one else in sight. He did a skip or two, and looked back to see the students’ dragon coming out. Its huge head ducked under the doorway, ducked again as Captain Flint stumbled on the steps, and then reared itself high in the air. Through a hole in the chest of the dragon, Captain Flint laughed at Roger, while he did a little prancing with his legs. More and more of the dragon came out, and Roger backed along the path before it. There were Nancy’s legs, John’s, Susan’s, Peggy’s and, last of all, Titty’s. The stiffened tail of the dragon, swinging behind her, scrape
d a doorpost, and Titty looked anxiously out from under her part of the body to see if any damage had been done.

  “All clear now,” said Roger.

  “Remember never to go in a straight line,” came the voice of Nancy.

  “Let’s get my teeth into that pearl,” growled the dragon in the voice of Captain Flint, and Roger swung the pearl towards the dragon’s nose, flicked it away and began his dance.

  He led the way along the path under the orange-trees behind the council hall and Miss Lee’s house. The door into the courtyard was open. He went through it and, for a moment, hesitated.

  “Get on,” said Captain Flint, and Roger, throwing out first one leg and then the other, spinning round, sometimes hopping backwards, sometimes forwards, swinging the gourd round his head, offering it to the dragon and snatching it away, set out through the courtyard to the gateway. He had expected to see Miss Lee and the other Taicoons, but there was no one on the wide verandah except men busy with chairs and a long table. The men laughed and cheered, and every leg of the dragon felt more confident. No booing yet.

  Everybody at the gateway was looking out into the town.

  “Hey! Hey!” shouted Roger. The guards and their friends turned round. There was a shout of surprised laughter and room was made for the dragon to pass. The swinging tail tapped a guard on the head, but the other guards only pushed the man out of the dragon’s way.

  They were out in the street. The town’s enormous dragon was already on its hundred legs, and its huge head, nodding up and down, seemed to greet the little dragon as a friend. There was a roar of laughter when, as the big dragon twisted round on itself, the little dragon joined in behind it and followed where it went. The noise was tremendous and from elsewhere in the town could be heard the drums, flutes and shouting of other crowds bringing in or welcoming the dragons from Tiger and Turtle.

  THE LITTLE DRAGON LEAVES THE YAMEN

  “You all right?” shouted Captain Flint to the rest of his body. “You all right?” the word was passed from one pair of legs to the next. “Aye-aye, sir,” the word came back from tail to head along the dancing dragon.

  The three crowds met, each with its dragon and there were fresh shouts of laughter from the folk of Tiger and Turtle when they saw that the Dragon Island dragon had a young one copying its every movement. The dragons met and parted, dancing their way among the houses, waiting for the signal. It came at last with the deep booming of the gong, twenty-two times.

  “Missee Lee!”

  There was a sudden swirl among the crowds. Wherever they were in the town, the dragons turned and made for the yamen. They came, one after another, to the gateway of the courtyard. Chang’s dragon was there first and was the first to go in. Wu’s dragon beat the Dragon Island dragon by a short head. The little dragon went in last. Tables of food were waiting in the places where on the day of the council the accountants had been busy. On the verandah before the great hall sat Miss Lee, with the old counsellor and Chang and Wu beside her, and a row of smiling captains from the pirate junks. The dragons danced up the courtyard to the steps and, while their leaders capered, bowed their monstrous heads. After the three big dragons had made their bows, the fourth dragon, the little one, pushed its way in beside them. Captain Flint knelt on the ground and brought the dragon’s head down so that its chin rested humbly on the lowest step. Roger, doing a prodigious leap, slipped and fell, but hopped up again in a moment to see the Taicoon Chang, helpless with laughter, rolling in his chair. Miss Lee was smiling. Wu and the captains were laughing too.

  The old counsellor lifted his claw-like hand. There was sudden, absolute silence. Then Miss Lee was making a speech of welcome to the dragons. She stopped. Each dragon’s leader leapt in the air. Each dragon raised its monstrous head. There was a roar of cheering, taken up at the gateway and all through the town. The next moment, tired legs were coming out from under dragons’ bodies. The bodies were left lying in the courtyard and the legs were making a rush for the food that had been made ready for them.

  “What do we do?” asked Roger quickly.

  “Drop our dragon in its own lair,” said Captain Flint. “Prance away.” And Roger, prancing till he was out of sight round the corner of Miss Lee’s house, led the little dragon back through the garden.

  “Gosh,” said Captain Flint, dumping the head on the ground. “Talk about hard work!”

  “I say, I’m awfully sorry I went and tumbled,” said Roger.

  “It was the star turn of the show,” said Captain Flint. “It was that that settled the rascal Chang. He must have got a stitch with laughing.”

  “Hiccups at least,” said Roger hopefully. “I say, are we to go and grub with the others?”

  “We are,” said Captain Flint. “Pirates with the best of them. Don’t want to start anybody asking what’s become of us. Just let me have a dip from your water kong to splash over my bald head.”

  “Good idea,” said Nancy.

  “The way to get cool quick,” said Susan, “is to wet the back of your wrists.”

  “I know,” said Titty, “like hanging your hands out of the window of a railway carriage.”

  *

  They cooled off as quickly as they could and went out into the courtyard. Miss Lee, sitting with the Taicoons and captains on the verandah, gave no sign that she had noticed them, but there were shouts at once from the tables where the legs of the other dragons were settling to the feast. Pirates squeezed up to make room for them, and in a minute they were sitting with the others, being chattered at in Chinese which they could not understand and hearing the ex-cook, who had carried the head of the Tiger Island dragon, shout to them in his pidgin-English, “Numpa one first chop dlagon!” by way of applause for their performance.

  They had fed pretty well during their stay with Miss Lee but had never sat down to such a feast as this. Even Chang’s supper to his captains on the evening when they had been taken prisoners was a mere snack beside it. Congee, birds’ nest soup with floating lumps of jelly in it … “like frog spawn,” Roger whispered … shark’s fin, curries, bowls heaped with rice and bits of roast pork, steaming bowls with rice and bits of chicken, more bowls with rice and bits of fish … “sicked up by the cormorants,” said Roger … bowls of tea, and bowls of a queer drink that they did not like, though the pirates were sucking it in, swallowing with hearty gollops and loudly smacking their lips while their bowls were being refilled. The noise of eating was such that even if they had been able to understand it, they could not have heard what anybody said. And there seemed to be no end to the feast. Again and again they thought they had come to the last dish, but always new bowls, piled high, were set before them. Even Roger wilted, and long before the pirates had had enough the prisoners were leaving things untasted and praying that there would be no more.

  At last Titty, who was sitting with her back to the courtyard, looked over her shoulder and saw that Miss Lee was no longer there. The Taicoons, the counsellor, the captains, were still on the verandah, drinking and smoking their little pipes, but the grand chorus of loud and cheerful eating was weakening like bird-song at dusk. Man after man, with glazed, smiling face, left the table, found a place for himself in the shade, lay on the ground and slept. The man who had been sitting between Titty and Captain Flint had fallen forward where he sat and was snoring with his head among the bowls of food. Titty reached across his back and touched Captain Flint. He nodded and stood up.

  “Sleeping it off, ready for the night,” he said to the others.

  “Our lot had better do the same.”

  “Not here,” said Susan.

  “No,” said Captain Flint. “Back to our dragon.”

  Picking their way among the torpid pirates they left the courtyard and went home to their own house.

  “Barbecued billygoats,” said Nancy. “I feel as if I’d eaten an elephant.”

  “Sleep it off,” said Captain Flint. “Sleep it off. We’ve done all right so far, but tonight our dragon’s got to danc
e the others off their feet. What about you, Roger? Feel like prancing?”

  “Not just now,” said Roger gravely.

  “Well, go to sleep the lot of you,” said Captain Flint. “In Dragon Town do as the dragons do. And afterwards we’ll do the dragons. I’m going out to sleep in the courtyard, where anyone can see me if there’s anyone awake. I’ll come and fetch you when it’s time to start again. Hullo. Peggy’s off. Sensible girl. …”

  Peggy was as torpid as a Chinese pirate and was asleep already. In two minutes the others were either asleep or only awake enough to wish they were not quite so full. The whole yamen was silent except for the grunts and snores of the men sleeping in the courtyard.

  *

  It was late at night when they woke to find Captain Flint busy doing something to the inside of the dragon’s neck. Someone had been in and lit lanterns in their house while they were still asleep. Lanterns were swinging from the trees outside.

  “Time,” said Captain Flint, clumsily stitching away. “One dragon’s off already and the other two are getting on their legs. How do you feel? It’s a rum thing. I suppose I over-ate as much as anyone, but I’m all right now.” As in the morning the whole town seemed to be chattering at once.

  “Come on,” said Roger, “let’s get started.”

  “Lantern this time, Roger,” said Captain Flint. “Take that gourd off it’s rope and put the lantern on instead.”

  “What are you doing?” said Susan. “You’d much better let me.”

  “Giminy,” said Nancy. “How did you get it back?”

  “Lying in the middle of the floor when I came in,” said Captain Flint. “It really does look as if she means to let us go.”

  He had cut a bit of stuff from the side of the body and was sewing the sextant into the dragon’s neck. Susan took needle and thread from him and finished up the job while Captain Flint for the first time told them exactly what it had been planned for them to do.

  “If we aren’t coming back,” said Titty, “hadn’t we better say ‘Good-bye’ to Miss Lee?”