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Rohmer, Sax, 1883-1959

"The Golden Scorpion"

"Wot about me wakin' up all
of a tremble aboard o' the old _Nancy Lee_--aboard of a blasted
wind-jammer! Me--a fireman! Wot about it? Wasn't that Shanghaiin'?
Blighter! _An'_ not a 'oat' in me pocket--not a 'bean'! Broke to
the wide an' aboard of a old wind-jammer wot was a coffin-ship--a
coffin-ship she was; an' 'er old man was the devil's father-in-law.
Ho! lies! I _don't_ think!"
"You cutee palaber!" chattered Ah-Fang-Fu, busy with the pipe. "You
likee too much chin-chin. You make nice piece bhobbery."
"Not a 'bean'," continued Bill reminiscently--"not a 'oat.'" He sat up
violently. "Even me pipe an' baccy was gone!" he shouted. "You'd even
pinched me pipe an' baccy! You'd pinch the whiskers off a blind man,
_you_ would, Pidgin! 'And over the dope. Thank Gawd somebody's still
the right stuff!"
Suddenly, from a bunk on the left of Gaston Max came a faint cry.
"Ah! He has bitten me!"
"'Ullo!" said Bill--"wotcher bin given' _'im,_ Pidgin? _Chandu_ or
hydrerphobia?"
Ah-Fang-Fu crossed and handed him the pipe.
"One piecee pipee. No more hab."
Bill grasped the pipe eagerly and raised it to his lips. Ah-Fang-Fu
returned unmoved to his Patience and silence reclaimed the den, only
broken by the inarticulate murmuring and the lapping of the tide.
"A genuine customer!" whispered Max.
"Ah!" came again, more faintly--"he ... has ... bitten ... me."
"Blimey!" said Bill in a drowsy voice--"'eave the chair at 'im,
Pidgin.


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