said Lohe, "when I heard the cries in there. These women show greater love for these babes than their own mothers."

"Yes, yes," answered Lihoa. "It is wonderful. I wish our priests would do for our children what the foreigners do for them."

Without further delay Lihoa went to Nona, the fish dealer, who lived in one of the alleys near the harbor. All night long he watched and waited for the fishermen who came to him from all parts of the island.

Complaining as he took what Lihoa had brought, he weighed the fish and poured the oysters out in a heap to estimate their value, then handed the old Chinaman a tael ($1.50) and several sapecks.

"What? Is that all you are going to give me, when you know that the sum must be divided among twenty families?" complained Lihoa.

"To-morrow morning in the market you will get three times that amount for the beautiful fish."

"Well--and why not? When I take inferior things to the market, I have to content myself with a small price.--Not a sapeck more for you,"

answered the dealer.

"Now then, Nona, don't be surprised if you get no more fish from us.

We are going into a more profitable business. We are going to the distant Goldland, and shall come back rich men."

"What? What do you mean, you fools?" cried Nona. "Do you want to be drowned? Well, if you get back with whole skins you'll be doing well, and no matter how much gold you get, the rich Natse will have it all before you are through with him."

"As far as drowning is concerned, we could drown easily in the business in which we are now engaged, and as to Natse's getting our gold, we'll attend to that." With these words Lihoa put the money in his pocket and started with his followers to the harbor, where, behind one of the warehouses, they laid down and took a nap.

At break of day they went to interview Natse, who was trying to get three hundred men to sail on the "St. George". When they arrived, he had just engaged a hundred or more, and there seemed no likelihood of there being a place for Lihoa and his followers, "though Lohe's people always had the preference". "But", said Natse, "if you have some one among your people who understands the language of the West well enough to act as interpreter, perhaps I can arrange for you and a dozen or more of your friends to go."

Then an idea popped into old Lihoa's head: "Wait until to-night, and I will bring you an answer," he said. "I think I can get an interpreter."

Lihoa sent his companions to the hamlet with the command, that those who wished to go on the trip to the Goldland were to get ready immediately, and he betook himself straight to the College of the Holy Saviour. There he asked to see the foreign teacher. Father Somazzo came into the reception room, and learned to his utter astonishment that the old Chinaman had called to demand his beloved pupil, little Peppo. Quietly the priest listened while the old man spoke, then took a pinch of snuff, and said: "My dear friend, for twelve years we have had this boy in our care, and have spent much time and money on him, and now that he is old enough to be of use, you ask us to give him to you. You are unreasonable. Prove in the court that the child is yours, and then, that we took him illegally, and you can have him. He has not been brought up in your religion, as you know, but is a Christian. We have many plans and hopes for him, and I am sure he will not care to leave us. Go, and may peace attend you."

"But I am the boy's uncle, and an uncle has paternal power over his sister's children according to Chinese law. I know the boy by the birthmark on his wrist," said Lihoa.

"Take your claims into court, and we will settle them there. In the meantime may peace attend you," repeated the missioner as he left the man.

Lihoa expected a refusal, for he was not so simple-minded as to believe that the child would be given over to him without ado, but the answer that he received, according to his way of thinking, justified his kidnapping his nephew. He knew a Chinese youth, who was a servant at the seminary, and to him he went for help to carry out his plan of getting possession of Peppo. In a nearby tavern he waited for Totu--for that was the youth's name--knowing that while the missioners and their pupils were at table, he was accustomed to come here for a gla.s.s of saki, a wine made from burnt rice. When he entered, Lihoa went and sat down beside him, addressed him as cousin, and ordered and paid for a second gla.s.s of saki. The two conversed for a time in low tones, then finally Totu said:

"Agreed! The day after to-morrow, at the New Year's celebration, I'll see to it that you get your nephew, but may the G.o.ds of the sea destroy your ship, if you do not pay me the money you say you will. I must have three tael to-morrow, for this may cost me my job, and you know, 'No penny, no paternoster'." Lihoa promised what Totu asked, and the two separated.

CHAPTER VI.

The Chinese New Year.

The New Year came and found Hongkong in festal array. All the Chinese houses were decorated with plants and flowers, and from long cords stretched from house to house, and diagonally across the streets, were suspended hundreds upon hundreds of lanterns of various colors. At the first peep of day thousands of people, dressed in holiday attire, began to throng the streets and crowd into the great open squares, where eatables of all sorts were to be had. Here were tables loaded down with all kinds of Chinese delicacies, many of which, I fear, my little readers would not find palatable. For example, there were sugar-coated worms, preserved red snails, trepang,--a kind of sea-worm,--and putrid doves' eggs in an unspeakable sauce. The cakes made of honey, sugar and rice-meal, I am sure, would have been much more to your liking.

Each hour the crowd increased, as the people poured into the city from the villages on the island of Hongkong, and from neighboring places.

It was a general reception day. Whenever a Chinaman met an acquaintance, putting his hands in the wide, flowing sleeves of his gown, he greeted him with many bows, wished him a happy New Year, and invited him to have a cup of tea or saki. Even the poorest people had saved up enough to take part in the celebration. All over the great city joy reigned.

The missioners, glad to give their pupils English as well as Chinese, all the pleasure they could, always celebrated the New Year by having a more elaborate supper than usual, and taking the boys to see the brilliantly lighted city and the puppet shows. For weeks beforehand all looked forward to the great holiday, and could hardly wait for the time to come when the city would be in holiday attire, and the fireworks and puppet shows in progress. On this night supper was over, the bell had rung, and the boys were in a double line ready to start on their little excursion. At the head of the ranks stood young Peppo, the leader, in a state of subdued excitement. He was anxious to see the beautiful lights, and also hoped to find his little companion, w.i.l.l.y, at the puppet show, where he knew he would be, if possible.

Just as the happy band was about to start, Father Somazzo called Peppo back, for it occurred to him that perhaps the man, who had a few days previous to this so impudently demanded possession of him, might try to kidnap him.

"Peppo", he said, addressing Lihu by his Italian nickname, "Peppo, you know that I mean well by you."

"Yes, Father," answered the boy impatiently, "but please don't keep me now. We are going to the city and I am to be the leader of the ranks."

"Peppo, not very long ago you said that you were willing to make a great sacrifice to G.o.d, because he saved you from death, and permitted you to be baptized, and because you are soon to receive your first communion."

"Yes, Father, I did, and I will willingly make a sacrifice, but let me go now. Brother Onufrio has already opened the door."

"Peppo, would it not be a beautiful sacrifice for you to give up going to-night?"

"O Father," stammered the child with tears in his eyes, "no, I don't want to. I will make a sacrifice, but not to-night. I want to see the fire-works and the puppet show. And w.i.l.l.y will be at the puppet show, I want to find him, too. He will go if he can, for he knows that every New Year's night we boys go. Please, Father, do not keep me. I will willingly live on rice and water for a month rather than stay home to-night."

"Poor child, you do not know what is for your best good," answered Father Somazzo. "I wanted you to look upon this as a sacrifice which you were willing to make, but since you will not, I command you to remain at home, for a reason which I cannot tell you. Come, Peppo, into the cla.s.s-room. You may take my big picture-book with all the pictures of European cities and churches, ladies and gentlemen in fine clothes and battles and ships. The time will pa.s.s quickly. Come and win the reward of obedience."

"I don't want to, I won't go!" cried the boy, crying at the top of his lungs and stamping his feet on the floor.

"What? What? Such a thing as this from you? That is no way to behave. If you do not come with me willingly, you shall not have the pretty picture-book."

With these words Father Somazzo led the weeping child into the cla.s.s-room, while he went to get the promised book. Totu, the servant, who was standing near the door at the time, was a witness of the scene.

His plan was to seize the boy at the puppet show, when the attention of all the by-standers was on the stage, fasten him to himself by a cunningly contrived chain and belt, so that he could not possibly escape in the crowd, and deliver him over to his uncle. When he saw that the boy was detained against his will, the sly fellow changed his tactics.

"Ha, ha," said he, "this is much easier for Totu," and hurrying into the garden, stationed himself under the window which opened into and was on a level with the garden. As soon as Father Somazzo left the room, Peppo went to the window to watch the sky rockets that every now and then went shooting into the sky, and to listen to the shouts of the merry revelers in the streets.

"What, little Lihu, are you not going to the celebration? Why, down in the marketplace there is the finest puppet show that was ever seen or heard of anywhere," said Totu in a sympathetic tone of voice.

"I can't," said he, "Father Somazzo is an old tyrant. He wants me to renounce this pleasure, to make a sacrifice to G.o.d to-night by staying at home."

"Oh, nonsense!" answered the tempter. "You come with me. I'll take you down into the city, and to the puppet show, and the fireworks, and everything else. We'll be back in an hour, and Father Somazzo, who is saying his prayers, won't even know you've been away."

"He has locked the door, and will be angry if he finds me gone," said the boy, half ready to yield to the tempter.

"He won't find it out. Quick. Climb up on the window-sill, I'll lift you down, and in a moment we'll be out through the little gate in the wall, for I have the key that unlocks it. We've no time to lose.

Don't you hear the drums and tomtoms in the market-place? The puppet show is beginning."

Little Peppo's conscience told him that he ought not to go, but his anger at what seemed to him an unjust command, caused him to give no heed to its dictation. "Well, anyway, when Father Somazzo shuts me up for punishment, I'll have seen the puppet show and the fireworks," he said, climbing up on the window-sill, and the next moment he was in the garden. Taking Totu by the hand, he slunk along in the shadow of the wall to the little gate, and soon the two were with the crowd out in the brilliantly lighted street.

Father Somazzo was detained a short time, and when he returned to the cla.s.sroom was dumbfounded to find his favorite pupil gone. He went to the window and called "Peppo, Peppo", but received no answer. At first he could scarcely believe that the boy, who had always been so obedient, could be guilty of such a grievous breach of discipline; but as calling and searching proved of no avail, at last, with a heavy heart, he had to admit that even good little Peppo had yielded to temptation.

"Lord, deal not harshly with the erring," sighed the missioner, and then he prayed: "Let not his disobedience cause him and us too much sorrow, Blessed Virgin. Take the poor child to thy motherly bosom, and bring him back to us in safety. Thou knowest we have great hopes for him."

Father Somazzo could do no more than this, for he could not leave the house alone; and, even if he had been able to do so, his attempts to find the child in the crowds that thronged the streets would have availed nothing. Hoping that Peppo would join his companions and return with them, the good Father waited, but in vain. He neither came with the boys, nor later by himself.

On the following morning Father Somazzo received a visit from Mr.

Black, the lawyer, whom he had consulted concerning the guardianship of w.i.l.l.y. He came to report that he believed he had sufficient proof to ask the court to take w.i.l.l.y away from John Brown, and also to cause his imprisonment. He had through agents sought out the sailors dismissed from the "St. George", and from them not only learned of the life of John Brown in Dublin, but also of the peculiar circ.u.mstances attendant upon his brother's death at sea. Mr. Black asked whether he should prosecute, adding: "Whatever is done, must be done quickly, for I am told that the 'St. George' will sail to-morrow morning, or the morning after at the latest, for Australia with three hundred Chinaman on board."

Father Somazzo signed the necessary papers, then told of little Peppo's disappearance, and his conjecture that he had been carried off by a Chinaman named Lihoa, who claimed to be a relative.

"I'll wager ten to one, this Lihoa is one of the greedy Chinamen who is going to sail on the 'St. George'," said Mr. Black. "Let's go down to the office of the Chief of Police, and, if my conjecture is true, we'll find the people we want on board the 'St. George'--'kill two birds with one stone', as the old saying has it. Be quick, Father, get your hat and walking stick and come with me. We haven't a moment to lose."

The two men hurried down to the harbor. The Chief of Police received them in a friendly manner, but when they laid their case before him, he shrugged his shoulders and said: "I am very sorry, indeed. You have come just eight hours too late. The 'St. George' sailed this morning at two with the tide and a favorable wind."

"What is to be done?" questioned the Father.