Chapter XI

Three days after leaving Suez they saw, for the first time, the Southern Cross, and, on the following morning, they steamed into what, at first sight, Fred and Charlie thought was land, but was simply a wide streak of floating sand which had been blown out to sea during a sand-storm.

At night they were now permitted to sleep on deck—a boon which all three appreciated highly. They took their blankets and pillows on to the poop, and slept with greater comfort than they had experienced for many days, though one night they were caught in a heavy thunder-shower.

One morning, when they went on deck, they found it literally strewn with flying fish. The ship's rats had evidently had a good feed, for many of the fish were gnawed and bitten.

'Would you like some flying fish for breakfast, gentlemen?' the cook said to the three passengers as they stood looking at the stranded fish.

'Are they good?' Charlie inquired, suspiciously.

'First class,' the cook declared; so Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang had flying fish for breakfast.

'I can't say that I consider them "first class,"' Fred said when he had eaten two of them, 'but I am glad that I shall be able to say that I have eaten one.'

'Eaten two,' Charlie said, but Fred ignored the interruption.

'I make a practice of tasting any new dish I come across,' he continued.

'When we get to China,' Charlie said, 'Ping Wang will have the pleasure of offering you puppy-dog pie.'

Ping Wang smiled serenely.

'I don't think that you will find Chinese food so bad as you imagine,' he said. 'Certainly it will be better than what we had to eat on the Sparrow-hawk.'

While they were looking at a heap of dead fish, the captain shouted to them to come over to the starboard side; and on doing so they beheld a shoal of small fish being chased by big ones. To escape their pursuers the small fish jumped out of the water, and were instantly seized by the gulls, a flock of which were hovering around. The gulls had a splendid feast, several hundred of small fish being eaten by them before the Twilight steamed away from the shoal.

It was not long before the Twilight arrived at Aden, where they all went ashore for a short time.

After they left Aden the days were extremely monotonous, for there was nothing to be seen but the ocean.

'I shall be jolly glad when the voyage is at an end,' Charlie declared when they had passed Ceylon without catching a glimpse of it.

'So shall I,' Fred answered, 'but it won't be much longer, and then the fun will begin.'

'I hope,' Ping Wang said, 'that you will not mind being dressed as Chinamen.'

'But, my dear fellow,' Fred replied, 'if we were dressed as Chinamen, we should not deceive any one. Our faces are not at all Chinese.'

'I can alter that by shaving your eyebrows.'

'Very likely, but Chinamen without pigtails would be as absurd as a wingless bird.'

'I will buy two pigtails,' Ping Wang declared, calmly.

'What! Surely Chinamen don't wear false pigtails?' Charlie exclaimed.

'Thousands of them do, but, of course they keep it as secret as do your English ladies who wear false hair.'

'But how do they fix it to their head? Stick it on to their bald pates with gum?'

'Oh, no! Chinamen are never quite bald—at least, I have never met any who are—and the pigtail is fixed to what hair they have. My reason for advising you not to have your hair cut in Port Said was that I wanted you to have long hair by the time we reached Hongkong. I think that it is already long enough for pigtails to be attached.'

Charlie was delighted at the prospect of having to don Chinese attire, but Fred was far from pleased. He had provided himself with an excellent khaki campaigning suit, and did not at all like the idea of its lying idle. However, after some further conversation, Ping Wang succeeded in convincing him that, for the success of their plans for recovering the idol, it was necessary that he and Charlie should pass themselves off as Chinese.

'We shall have to eat our food with chop-sticks I suppose?' Charlie remarked.

'Certainly,' Ping Wang replied.

'Then lend me yours, and I'll start practising at once. I don't want to be starved when I get to China.'

Ping Wang lent his chop-sticks willingly, and having obtained some boiled rice from the cook, Charlie practised getting it into his mouth. It was an easier task than he had imagined, and when he had become proficient, he passed the chop-sticks on to Fred, who at once set to work to become as accomplished as his brother. Long before they arrived at Hongkong, Fred and Charlie found it as easy to eat with chop-sticks as with a knife and fork.

(Continued on page 291.)