Chapter 7 - A Trip to China
“Come， little girl， I‘ve got another dose for you. I fancy you won’t take it as well as you did the last， but you will like it better after a while，” said Dr. Alec， about a week after the grand surprise.
Rose was sitting in her pretty room， where she would gladly have spent all her time if it had been allowed； but she looked up with a smile， for she had ceased to fear her uncle‘s remedies， and was always ready to try a new one. The last had been a set of light gardening tools， with which she had helped him put the flower-beds in order， learning all sorts of new and pleasant things about the plants as she worked， for， though she had studied botany at school， it seemed very dry stuff compared with Uncle Alec’s lively lesson.
“What is it now？” she asked， shutting her work-box without a murmur.
“How must I take it？”
“Put on the new suit Miss Hemming sent home yesterday， and come down to the beach； then I‘ll show you.”
“Yes， sir，” answered Rose obediently， adding to herself， with a shiver， as he went off： “It is too early for bathing， so I know it is something to do with a dreadful boat.”
Putting on the new suit of blue flannel， prettily trimmed with white， and the little sailor-hat with long streamers， diverted her mind from the approaching trial， till a shrill whistle reminded her that her uncle was waiting. Away she ran through the garden， down the sandy path， out upon the strip of beach that belonged to the house， and here she found Dr. Alec busy with a slender red and white boat that lay rocking on the rising tide.
“That is a dear little boat； and ‘Bonnie Belle’ is a pretty name，” she said， trying not to show how nervous she felt.
“It is for you； so sit in the stern and learn to steer， till you are ready to learn to row.”
“Do all boats wiggle about in that way？” she asked， lingering as if to tie her hat more firmly.
“Oh， yes， pitch about like nutshells when the sea is a bit rough，” answered her sailor uncle， never guessing her secret woe.
“Is it rough to-day？”
“Not very； it looks a trifle squally to the eastward， but we are all right till the wind changes. Come.”
“Can you swim， uncle？” asked Rose， clutching at his arm as he took her hand.
“Like a fish. Now then.”
“Oh， please hold me very tight till I get there！ Why do you have the stern so far away？” and， stifling several squeaks of alarm in her passage， Rose crept to the distant seat， and sat there holding on with both hands and looking as if she expected every wave to bring a sudden shipwreck.
Uncle Alec took no notice of her fear， but patiently instructed her in the art of steering， till she was so absorbed in remembering which was starboard and which larboard， that she forgot to say “OW！” every time a big wave slapped against the boat.
“Now where shall we go？” she asked， as the wind blew freshly in her face， and a few， long swift strokes sent them half across the little bay.
“Suppose we go to China？”
“Isn‘t that rather a long voyage？”
“Not as I go. Steer round the Point into the harbour， and I‘ll give you a glimpse of China in twenty minutes or so.”
“I should like that！” and Rose sat wondering what he meant， while she enjoyed the new sights all about her.
Behind them the green Aunt-hill sloped gently upward to the grove at the top， and all along the seaward side stood familiar houses， stately， cosy， or picturesque. As they rounded the Point， the great bay opened before them full of shipping， and the city lay beyond， its spires rising above the tall masts with their gay streamers.
“Are we going there？” she asked， for she had never seen this aspect of the rich and busy old city before.
“Yes. Uncle Mac has a ship just in from Hong Kong， and I thought you would like to go and see it.”
“Oh， I should. I love dearly to go poking about in the warehouses with Uncle Mac； everything is so curious and new to me； and I‘m specially interested in China because you have been there.”
“I‘ll show you two genuine Chinamen who have just arrived. You will like to welcome Whang Lo and Fun See， I’m sure.”
“Don‘t ask me to speak to them， uncle； I shall be sure to laugh at the odd names and the pig-tails and the slanting eyes. Please let me just trot round after you； I like that best.”
“Very well； now steer toward the wharf where the big ship with the queer flag is. That‘s the ’Rajah，‘ and we will go aboard if we can.”
In among the ships they went， by the wharves where the water was green and still， and queer barnacles grew on the slippery piles. Odd smells saluted her nose， and odd sights met her eyes， but Rose liked it all， and played she was really landing in Hong Kong when they glided up to the steps in the shadow of the tall “Rajah.” Boxes and bales were rising out of the hold and being carried into the warehouse by stout porters， who tugged and bawled and clattered about with small trucks， or worked cranes with iron claws that came down and clutched heavy weights， whisking them aloft to where wide doors like mouths swallowed them up.
Dr. Alec took her aboard the ship， and she had the satisfaction of poking her inquisitive little nose into every available corner， at the risk of being crushed， lost， or drowned.
“Well， child， how would you like to take a voyage round the world with me in a jolly old craft like this？” asked her uncle， as they rested a minute in the captain‘s cabin.
“I should like to see the world， but not in such a small， untidy， smelly place as this. We would go in a yacht all clean and comfortable； Charlie says that is the proper way，” answered Rose， surveying the close quarters with little favour.
“You are not a true Campbell if you don‘t like the smell of tar and salt-water， nor Charlie either， with his luxurious yacht. Now come ashore and chin-chin with the Celestials.”
After a delightful progress through the great warehouse， peeping and picking as they went， they found Uncle Mac and the yellow gentlemen in his private room， where samples， gifts， curiosities， and newly arrived treasures of all sorts were piled up in pleasing pro-fusion and con-fusion.
As soon as possible Rose retired to a corner， with a porcelain god on one side， a green dragon on the other， and， what was still more embarrassing， Fun See sat on a tea-chest in front， and stared at her with his beady black eyes till she did not know where to look.
Mr. Whang Lo was an elderly gentleman in American costume， with his pig-tail neatly wound round his head. He spoke English， and was talking busily with Uncle Mac in the most commonplace way—so Rose considered him a failure. But Fun See was delightfully Chinese from his junk-like shoes to the button on his pagoda hat； for he had got himself up in style， and was a mass of silk jackets and slouchy trousers. He was short and fat， and waddled comically； his eyes were very “slanting，” as Rose said； his queue was long， so were his nails； his yellow face was plump and shiny， and he was altogether a highly satisfactory Chinaman.
Uncle Alec told her that Fun See had come out to be educated and could only speak a little pigeon English； so she must be kind to the poor fellow， for he was only a lad， though he looked nearly as old as Mr. Whang Lo. Rose said she would be kind； but had not the least idea how to entertain the queer guest， who looked as if he had walked out of one of the rice-paper landscapes on the wall， and sat nodding at her so like a toy Mandarin that she could hardly keep sober.
In the midst of her polite perplexity， Uncle Mac saw the two young people gazing wistfully at one another， and seemed to enjoy the joke of this making acquaintance under difficulties. Taking a box from his table， he gave it to Fun See， with an order that seemed to please him very much.
Descending from his perch， he fell to unpacking it with great neatness and despatch， while Rose watched him， wondering what was going to happen. Presently， out from the wrappings came a teapot， which caused her to clasp her hands with delight， for it was made in the likeness of a plump little Chinaman. His hat was the cover， his queue the handle， and his pipe the nose. It stood upon feet in shoes turned up at the toes， and the smile on the fat， sleepy face was so like that on Fun‘s when he displayed the teapot， that Rose couldn’t help laughing， which pleased him much.
Two pretty cups with covers， and a fine scarlet tray completed the set， and made one long to have a “dish of tea，” even in Chinese style， without cream or sugar.
When he had arranged them on a little table before her， Fun signified in pantomime that they were hers， from her uncle. She returned her thanks in the same way， whereupon he returned to his tea-chest， and， having no other means of communication， they sat smiling and nodding at one another in an absurd sort of way till a new idea seemed to strike Fun. Tumbling off his seat， he waddled away as fast as his petticoats permitted， leaving Rose hoping that he had not gone to get a roasted rat， a stewed puppy， or any other foreign mess which civility would oblige her to eat.
While she waited for her funny new friend， she improved her mind in a way that would have charmed Aunt Jane. The gentlemen were talking over all sorts of things， and she listened attentively， storing up much of what she heard， for she had an excellent memory， and longed to distinguish herself by being able to produce some useful information when reproached with her ignorance.
She was just trying to impress upon her mind that Amoy was two hundred and eighty miles from Hong Kong， when Fun came scuffling back， bearing what she thought was a small sword， till he unfurled an immense fan， and presented it with a string of Chinese compliments， the meaning of which would have amused her even more than the sound， if she could have understood it.
She had never seen such an astonishing fan， and at once became absorbed in examining it. Of course， there was no perspective whatever， which only gave it a peculiar charm to Rose， for in one place a lovely lady， with blue knitting-needles in her hair， sat directly upon the spire of a stately pagoda. In another charming view a brook appeared to flow in at the front door of a stout gentleman‘s house， and out at his chimney. In a third a zig-zag wall went up into the sky like a flash of lightning， and a bird with two tails was apparently brooding over a fisherman whose boat was just going aground upon the moon.
It was altogether a fascinating thing， and she would have sat wafting it to and fro all the afternoon， to Fun‘s great satisfaction， if Dr. Alec’s attention had not suddenly been called to her by a breeze from the big fan that blew his hair into his eyes， and reminded him that they must go. So the pretty china was repacked， Rose furled her fan， and with several parcels of choice teas for the old ladies stowed away in Dr. Alec‘s pockets， they took their leave， after Fun had saluted them with “the three bendings and the nine knockings，” as they salute the Emperor， or “Son of Heaven，” at home.
“I feel as if I had really been to China， and I‘m sure I look so，” said Rose， as they glided out of the shadow of the “Rajah.”
She certainly did， for Mr. Whang Lo had given her a Chinese umbrella； Uncle Alec had got some lanterns to light up her balcony； the great fan lay in her lap， and the tea-set reposed at her feet.
“This is not a bad way to study geography， is it？” asked her uncle， who had observed her attention to the talk.
“It is a very pleasant way， and I really think I have learned more about China to-day than in all the lessons I had at school， though I used to rattle off the answers as fast as I could go. No one explained anything to us， so all I remember is that tea and silk come from there， and the women have little bits of feet. I saw Fun looking at mine， and he must have thought them perfectly immense，” answered Rose， surveying her stout boots with sudden contempt.
“We will have out the maps and the globe， and I‘ll show you some of my journeys， telling stories as we go. That will be next best to doing it actually.”
“You are so fond of travelling， I should think it would be very dull for you here， uncle. Do you know， Aunt Plenty says she is sure you will be off in a year or two.”
“Oh， me！ what shall I do then？” sighed Rose， in a tone of despair that made Uncle Alec‘s face brighten with a look of genuine pleasure as he said significantly—
“Next time I go I shall take my little anchor with me. How will that suit？”
Rose gave a little bounce of rapture which caused the boat to “wiggle” in a way that speedily quieted her down. But she sat beaming joyfully and trying to think which of some hundred questions she would ask first， when Dr. Alec said， pointing to a boat that was coming up behind them in great style—
“How well those fellows row！ Look at them， and take notes for your own use by and by.”
The “Stormy Petrel” was manned by half a dozen jaunty looking sailors， who made a fine display of blue shirts and shiny hats， with stars and anchors in every direction.
“How beautifully they go， and they are only boys. Why， I do believe they are our boys！ Yes， I see Charlie laughing over his shoulder. Row， uncle， row！ Oh， please do， and not let them catch up with us！” cried Rose， in such a state of excitement that the new umbrella nearly went overboard.
“All right， here we go！” and away they did go with a long steady sweep of the oars that carried the “Bonnie Belle” through the water with a rush.
The lads pulled their prettiest， but Dr. Alec would have reached the Point first， if Rose， in her flurry， had not retarded him by jerking the rudder ropes in a most unseamanlike way， and just as she got right again her hat blew off. That put an end to the race， and while they were still fishing for the hat the other boat came alongside， with all the oars in the air， and the jolly young tars ready for a frolic.
“Did you catch a crab， uncle？”
“No， a blue-fish，” he answered， as the dripping hat was landed on a seat to dry.
“What have you been doing？”
“Good for you， Rose！ I know what you mean. We are going to have him up to show us how to fly the big kite， for we can‘t get the hang of it. Isn’t he great fun， though？”
“No， little Fun.”
“Come， stop joking， and show us what you‘ve got.”
“You‘d better hoist that fan for a sail.”
“Lend Dandy your umbrella； he hates to burn his pretty nose.”
“I say， uncle， are you going to have a Feast of Lanterns？”
“No， I‘m going to have a feast of bread and butter， for it’s tea-time. If that black cloud doesn‘t lie， we shall have a gust before long， so you had better get home as soon as you can， or your mother will be anxious， Archie.”
“Ay， ay， skipper. Good-night， Rose； come out often， and we‘ll teach you all there is to know about rowing，” was Charlie’s modest invitation.
Then the boats parted company， and across the water from the “Petrel‘s” crew came a verse from one of the Nonsense songs in which the boys delighted.
“Oh， Timballoo！ how happy we are，
We live in a sieve and a crockery jar！
And all night long， in the starlight pale，
We sail away， with a pea-green sail，
And whistle and warble a moony song
To the echoing sound of a coppery gong.
Far and few， far and few
Are the lands where the Jumblies live；
Their heads are green， and their hands are blue，
And they went to sea in a sieve.“