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The boatswain did not forget me though, in spite of his fun at my expense; and he must have spoken to Ching Wang again about me, for the Chinaman came to the cabin after giving the men their breakfast at eight bells, bringing me a pannikin of hot coffee, his panacea for every woe. "Hi, lilly pijjin, drinkee dis chop chop," said he, holding the pannikin to my mouth.
"Hi me wakee can do," he said in his broken pigeon English, although from having been several voyages he spoke more intelligibly than the majority of his countrymen, "Mass' Looney me axee lookee after lilly pijjin, and so me fetchee piecee coffee number one chop. You wanchee hey?" "Thank you," I cried gratefully, drinking the nice hot coffee, which seemed delicious though there was no milk in it.
"Nothing could have been more sensible, you see, cap'en; and Ching Wang's got his head screwed on straight." "And where is this boat ye're going in?" "Sampan, go long now," returned Ching Wang, motioning with his hand to the water below the stern. "Go long chop chop, soon lilly pijjin come down topside."
"Hullo, Ching Wang," I said, "what are you about?" "Me chin chin joss, lilly pijjin," he answered, turning to me his round, unconscious, and imperturbable face as if he were engaged in some ordinary occupation of everyday life. "Me askee him me watchee if kyphong catchee ship, no sabey?"
In the evening, when it was growing dark, a tapping was heard at one of the ports in the captain's cabin; and both Tim and I were just on the point of firing, when, to our great surprise Ching Wang's well-known voice was heard. "Chin, chin lilly pijjin! Comee one chop quick, me wantee talkee talkee. Lis'en me, an' you lickee kyfong number one go!"
"Chin-chin, lilly pijjin," said my new friend, as he picked himself up from the deck and made his way back to his galley with the empty pannikin, whose contents I was glad to have swallowed before jumping out of the bunk, or else it would have been spilt in another fashion. "When you wanchee chow-chow you comee Ching Wang and he givee you first chop."
"You waitee, lilly pijjin," said he. "Bimeby soon comee."
An hour later, Ching Wang, who had gone into the bows to look out, leaving me at the tiller, suddenly called out: "Hi, lilly pijjin!" he shouted, gesticulating and showing more excitement than he had ever displayed before, his disposition generally being phlegmatic in the extreme. "One big smokee go long. Me see three piecee bamboo walkee, chop chop!"
This was a sure token of the strong affection he entertained for me, his "lilly pijjin," as he always called me from the time that Tim Rooney had commended me to his good graces.
"Hi, lilly pijjin," cried this worthy, receiving me far more pleasantly than I'm sure the Portuguese would have done, for as I passed under the break of the poop I heard the latter clattering his tins about in the pantry, as if he were in a rage at something. "What you wanchee hey?"
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