Missee Lee

by Arthur Ransome

  “Oh, I say,” said Titty.

  Susan and John looked at each other. Their hopes that Captain Flint had been able to put everything right had faded suddenly away.

  “Hullo,” said Captain Flint. “Four, five, six. All complete except for the parrot and that blessed monkey. Had a good night? All well so far.” He shifted on his narrow perch and rubbed a sore place. “I wish they’d buck up and let me out. It would take a parrot or a vulture to sit comfortably on this thing.”

  Nancy’s captain was listening as if to strange music.

  “Talkee English, bimeby,” he said. “Talkee English. Talkee Melican. Missee talkee evellything.”

  “All right old chap,” said Captain Flint. “But I’d like to be able to stand up.” He shook one of the bamboo bars of his cage.

  “Too much stlong,” said Nancy’s captain.

  “What do you think’s going to happen?” asked John.

  “Blest if I know,” said Captain Flint. “Keep smiling. That’s the ticket.”

  “Have you had anything to eat?” asked Susan. She dug in a pocket and brought out a bit of chocolate. “It’s a bit sticky,” she said. “I meant it for Roger yesterday.” She held it out and Captain Flint took it through the bars, winked at Roger, unwrapped it and sat on his perch thoughtfully chewing. The watching crowd roared with laughter.

  “Oh, all right,” growled Captain Flint. “Feeding the apes, eh? Like to see my celebrated gorilla act?”

  “No, no,” said Titty. “You’ll only make them cross. And they’ve been quite all right so far … except about putting you in a cage,” she added hurriedly.

  “If only they’d let me have a word with somebody who really does talk English,” said Captain Flint.

  Suddenly the air shook with the throbbing boom of an enormous gong. The whole chattering crowd in the courtyard was silent, waiting as the waves of sound slowly died away. Again the gong boomed. Again it was as if the whole world throbbed like a pulse.

  “Gosh,” said Roger, looking round at Susan with startled eyes.

  Again the gong boomed and again. Each time there was a long pause until the last wave of sound had died, and then, yet again, came that tremendous booming noise.

  “Eight … nine … ten …” Titty was counting. “It’s for Chang. …”

  But the gong was still booming. Again and again that single, powerful noise broke each new silence. It was as if someone were throwing pebbles one by one into a pool, waiting till the last ripples were smoothed away before dropping the next pebble in the still water. Eighteen … nineteen … twenty … twenty-one. …

  “Missee Lee. … Twenty-two gong,” said the captain, and went off through the crowd and up into the large building at the head of the courtyard.

  For the last time the gong boomed and with that twenty-second gong-stroke, they saw that everybody was looking in one direction, towards the tall flagstaff that towered above roofs and trees alike. A huge black flag was rising jerkily to the top of the flagstaff and on it a monstrous golden animal seemed to dance as the light wind rippled the flag.

  “It’s a dragon,” said Titty.

  “I can see it isn’t a skull and crossbones,” said Nancy.

  CHAPTER XII

  TWENTY-TWO GONG TAICOON

  AS the throbbing of the last gong-stroke died away a sort of sigh that sounded like “Missee Lee” rose from the crowd. Everybody was looking towards the steep-roofed building at the head of the courtyard. Men with rifles came out on the verandah, thumped the butts of their rifles on the wooden floor, and waited. Presently an old man came out on the verandah and stood at the top of the steps, with a roll of paper in his hand. There was silence. He let the paper unroll, looked at it and called out a name. There was a stir in the crowd. A guard opened a gate in one of the cages, and the two brothers, the prisoner from inside the cage and the other who had paid over all those silver dollars, were led off up the steps to the verandah and into the building.

  The hubbub of talk broke out again, and through it, all the time, they could hear the clicking beads of the accountants doing their sums.

  “Believe it’s a sort of settling day,” said Captain Flint.

  “We saw them weighing silver money,” said Nancy.

  “What did they weigh them for?” said Roger.

  “To see somebody hadn’t clipped the edges,” said Captain Flint. “That used to be a great game in these parts.”

  “Do you think it’ll be our turn next?” asked Titty. “I wish we could get it over. …”

  “What are we going to settle with?” said Captain Flint. “We’ve got no bags of silver. Paying business this seems to be. But I’ll do my best.”

  “Tell them we’ve simply got to get to Hong Kong or somewhere,” said Susan.

  “Don’t let’s hurry,” said Nancy. “We’ll never have a chance like this again.”

  “I like that,” said Captain Flint. “You just try sitting in this cage.”

  There was another silence. The old man at the top of the steps was reading out another name. The two brothers came out smiling happily, bowing in all directions, even to the guards. Another prisoner was taken in. He came out and yet another name was read.

  “It’s like waiting to see the headmaster,” said Roger.

  “Our turn’ll come all right,” said Captain Flint. “No good worrying till it does. Look here, John, let’s hear exactly what did happen that night. How did you get ashore? Were you anywhere near when that blighter picked us up and wouldn’t stop to look for you?”

  With help from the others, John told the story of that windy night, of how he had put the sea-anchor out and made sure that the rope should not chafe, of how he had fallen asleep and been waked by a splash and guessed that something had gone wrong, of how he had begun hauling in the rope (“We got broadside on and I knew I was wrong, so I let it out again, and after that she was dry enough.”) He told of hauling in the rope next morning when the wind had dropped and finding the sea-anchor no more than a few rags at the end of it. “Wonderful what a warp over the bows’ll do,” said Captain Flint, “to keep a little boat safe in a big wind”; Roger told of the tannic jelly put on Gibber’s scorched arm; Susan of the struggle to relight the lantern. Even Titty, as the story of that night’s drift was being told, forgot her present worries, remembering them only in the silences when new names were being called from the steps, and junk captains and guards were swaggering up into the big building, or swaggering down again. Sometimes on coming down those steps prisoners and guards would go to the accountants squatting over the sums and clicking their beads. Sometimes the prisoners were marched straight out of the courtyard. Meanwhile the tale went on. “What was the first thing you saw?” asked Captain Flint. They told of the dawn coming up behind them out of the sea, and the hills, and the big cliff and the landing on the tiny island.

  “And the first thing I found when we got ashore,” said John, “was that I’d got your sextant and the nautical almanac in Swallow. I’d meant to put them in Amazon, but in all that rush. …”

  Captain Flint half jumped up, and hit his head on the roof of his hen-coop.

  “You’ve got my sextant! Good for you. And I thought I’d lost it for ever. Where is it now?”

  “It’s in Miss Lee’s temple,” said Titty.

  John was just telling how they had found the stone chair on the island, and the little house where they had spent the night when a new name was called from the verandah.

  “There’s our captain coming,” cried Nancy. “There. He’s coming down the steps now.”

  The junk captain was hurrying towards them. He clapped his hands and shouted, and two enormous half-naked Chinese pushed their way through the already thinning crowd and joined him by Captain Flint’s hen-coop.

  The junk captain turned to Nancy. “Him too much stlong,” he said.

  The two big Chinese stood outside his cage, glaring at Captain Flint, bending their arms and making their muscles stand up. They slapped the
ir knees. They beat their chests like great apes.

  “What are they making faces for?” said Roger.

  “Two can play at that,” said Captain Flint cheerfully, and began making faces in return. He got off his perch, crouched with bent knees, took a bar of the cage in each hand, shook them and growled. “This is the gorilla act,” he said. There was a gasp from among the watching Chinese.

  The two big men hopped up and down. Captain Flint, growling, did the same.

  “Don’t make them angry,” said Titty.

  “Fun for their money,” said Captain Flint.

  “They’re opening the cage,” said Roger.

  The cage door opened and Captain Flint came out and tried to stretch himself. Each of the two big Chinese grabbed one arm. The junk captain, again with a glance at Nancy, brought a pair of handcuffs from behind his back and clapped them on Captain Flint’s wrists.

  “Oh,” said Titty.

  But Captain Flint just jingled the handcuffs as if they were ornaments and smiled at the Chinese.

  “Stout fellows,” said Captain Flint. “Too much strong. Look at them now. Pleased as Punch. It’s just as well to make everybody happy. As for you, you son of a gun,” he added, turning his head towards the junk captain, “if ever you get wrecked and I pick you up at sea. …”

  The junk captain bowed politely. “Talkee English, bimeby,” he said.

  With jangling handcuffs Captain Flint walked off between the big Chinese, the junk captain walking beside them. They went up the steps to the verandah and were gone.

  “It’s going to be all right in a minute,” said John.

  “But they’ve put him in chains,” said Titty.

  “What else could they do?” said Nancy. “He is pretty strong, and anybody who saw him being a gorilla would think it wasn’t safe to let him out.”

  “He didn’t mind,” said Peggy. “Didn’t you see him wink?”

  “So long as there’s somebody who knows English,” said Nancy. “Not this gabble that’s no good for asking or explaining anything. If there’s somebody who really does know. … And I’m sure there is. Our captain’s been saying so all the time.”

  “Missee Lee knows English all right,” said Titty. “Oh, I say. We’ve never had time to tell him about those books. …”

  “Or about using her Primus,” said Roger hurriedly.

  Susan glanced at him but said nothing. There was no more talking among the little bunch of prisoners waiting with their guards beside the empty travelling cage, watching, watching for Captain Flint to come out again on the verandah at the top of those steps. They had expected him to come out at once. One word of explanation would surely be enough and he would come charging out to fetch them in, and the next thing would be to arrange for them to get to a proper port and go aboard an English ship. Minute after minute went by and still no new name was shouted from the steps and nobody went in or out.

  Half an hour went by. Titty caught John and Susan looking at each other as if they thought that something might have gone wrong. Even Nancy was looking less confident. “I say,” whispered Roger, “you don’t think he’s got in a row about that book. Shall I bolt in and tell them I did it?” “Keep quiet,” said John, “and keep grinning.”

  At last they saw Captain Flint coming out.

  “They’ve taken off those handcuffs,” cried Roger.

  But Captain Flint did not look as if anything was settled. He came down the steps with a grave, puzzled face, the junk captain beside him and the two big guards walking behind.

  “He’s free anyhow,” said Titty.

  But the little group came straight across the courtyard to the bamboo travelling cage. The junk captain stood at the door of the cage and bowed. Captain Flint bowed to him, stooped, went in and sat down on his perch. The door of the cage was closed once more.

  “What is it? What is it?” asked Nancy.

  “Why are they shutting you up again?” asked Roger.

  “Are they sending a message home?” asked Susan.

  “Is Missee Lee a she or a he?” asked Nancy.

  “Doesn’t she talk English after all?” asked Titty.

  “Rum go. Rum go,” said Captain Flint. “Blest if I know what to make of it. Jabbering Latin. … Asked if I knew Greek. Asked … Gosh! I’ve left school too long. … You people’ll be all right if you keep your heads. Where were we going? What were we doing? That’s all right. But Cambridge? Cambridge? Why Cambridge? Must have meant Cambridge, Massachusetts. … Well, of all the rum goes. What’s that? Does she talk English? English? English? I should think she does. She knows more English than I do. …”

  He was still muttering to himself when there was a sharp call from the steps. The junk captain gave an order to the guards and John, Susan, Nancy, Peggy, Titty and Roger found themselves being marched towards the big green-roofed building at the top of the courtyard.

  “In for it now,” said Nancy, confident once more now that the moment had come. “Look here, John. She’s a she-pirate. Let me do the talking.”

  They were marched up the steps, across the verandah between men leaning on their rifles, into a large, cool room that for a moment seemed dark after the sunshine in the courtyard. At the far end of the room there was a small group of people on a raised platform one step up from the floor. They saw Miss Lee at once. A tiny Chinese woman was sitting on a straight-backed chair. She had a black silk coat and trousers, and gold shoes that rested on a footstool. She was wearing a cartridge belt over her black silk coat and her fingers were gently tapping a large revolver on her knees. An old Chinese woman was standing behind her chair and every now and then flapped a fly-whisk to and fro above her head. At Miss Lee’s right elbow, in a chair set a little way behind her own, sat a very old man in dark green, gold-embroidered robes, combing a thin wispy beard with fingers like a bird’s claws. Next to him was sitting a big man whom they knew at once for the Taicoon, Chang, the bird-fancier. At the other side of Miss Lee sat a much smaller, stout man, with a brown, wrinkled face, and eyes screwed up like those of an old sailor. Some of the junk captains they had seen at last night’s supper were standing about, and some others whom they had not seen before. All watched the little procession of prisoners as they crossed the shadows on the floor, in a silence that seemed all the quieter for the chattering of men and the clicking of beads that was still going on outside. It was an odd thing, but nobody in the room seemed to matter at all beside that tiny young woman with her gold shoes and her revolver seated in the big chair. Her eyes seemed to be half-closed, yet they felt that she could see even what they were thinking.

  WAITING TO HEAR THEIR FATE

  They were placed in a row at the edge of the raised dais, immediately in front of Miss Lee. Nancy’s captain went up on the dais and joined the others behind the chair of the Taicoon, Chang.

  Suddenly they saw that Miss Lee was smiling at them. They found themselves smiling back. But already her smile was gone and she was speaking quietly to the old man sitting at her elbow. Chang and the others listened. Then the old man spoke, still combing his wisp of beard. Then the little wrinkled man on Miss Lee’s left. Then Chang, who seemed to be disagreeing with what had been said. It was like watching people talking behind a window without being able to hear what they were saying. For the prisoners it was worse than that because they knew that the argument they were watching had something to do with themselves. Something was being decided about them, and they could not say a thing to help the decision one way or the other.

  Miss Lee spoke again, glancing for a moment in their direction. The old man stopped combing his beard and spoke earnestly. The little man with the wrinkled eyes was nodding his head in agreement. Chang was scowling. Again Miss Lee was talking. The little man shook his head. The old man staring straight in front of him, was twisting together two or three of the long hairs of his beard. Chang’s face changed. Suddenly he got up and crossed the dais towards the prisoners. His smile was as friendly as it had been when he and Titty
had been feeding grasshoppers to his birds, but Titty, without knowing why, reached for Susan’s hand. Miss Lee said a single word. Chang suddenly lifted both hands and dropped them. He went back to his seat. He spoke to one of his captains who bowed to Miss Lee and went quickly out.

  “Our Taicoon’s agreed to something,” whispered Roger.

  The discussion, whatever it had been, was over. That part of it at least. Once more, everybody on the dais was looking at the prisoners. Suddenly Miss Lee spoke in English.

  “Who are you?” she asked quietly.

  John looked at Nancy, Nancy at John. Nancy looked straight at Miss Lee, who was watching her through narrowed eyes.

  “I am Captain Nancy Blackett,” she said. “Amazon pirate when at home. …” She paused a moment to let that sink in.

  “Pilate?” said Miss Lee. “Captain?”

  “Rather,” said Nancy. “And this is Peggy Blackett, my Mate.”

  “And the others?”

  “This is Captain John Walker, Mate Susan Walker, and Able Seamen Titty Walker and Roger Walker.”

  “Pilates too?” asked Miss Lee with just the faintest hint of a smile.

  “Not exactly,” said Nancy. “Explorers.”

  “How did you come here?”

  “We were all sailing round the world in the Wild Cat. She’s … she was a schooner belonging to Captain Flint.”

  “And Captain Flint?” asked Miss Lee.

  “Our Uncle Jim,” said Nancy.

  “Velly uncultured man,” said Miss Lee, and turned to talk to the others in Chinese. “Go on,” she said presently.

  “The Wild Cat caught fire,” said Nancy. “Roger’s monkey …”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” said Roger.

  “Monkey?” said Miss Lee.

  “Gibber went and dropped Captain Flint’s cigar into the petrol-tank,” began Roger, but was nudged by John and shut up.

  Nancy went on with the story.

  “She burnt right out and went under,” said Nancy. “Then we were in our two boats … you’ve got them here. We saw them in the creek. … We tried to keep together but it blew a bit hard and their lantern went out and then a junk picked up Peggy and me and Captain Flint, and Captain Flint had a bit of a row because naturally he wanted the captain to stay where he was and look for the others, but the captain wouldn’t.”