Here’s an old short story from a series called the ‘China Sailor’ by O.C. Hand. His work was obviously put together before the Second World War when American Sailors freely frequented the ports of Shanghai, China. I hope you enjoy this little yarn and the adventures of Shanghai Jones and his shipmates as much as I did…
It’s a
sad thing to have to admit about a friend but there’s no use holding back the
fact that Shanghai Jones was always in shoal water with some gal … or gals. We
used to puzzle over his fatal fascination for the fair sex and never did hit
the right answer. It certainly wasn’t his good looks because he didn’t have
any. He was lanky, raw-boned, weather-beaten, and downright homely. But the
girls loved him. Maybe it was because he was a bos’n mate. Some of the time we
envied him but most of the time we felt sorry for him. The wimmin just wouldn’t
leave him alone.
One
chilly October day our seagoing Casanova, in company with blubber-bellied Tubby
Wilson and myself, were cruising down Yeates Road in the International Settlement
of Shanghai without a care in the world. Our rickshaw boys were trotting in
that mile-eating fashion of theirs while we lolled back watching the ever
varied street scenes and hoping that the wild taxis wouldn’t mow us down.
I said
just now that Shanghai didn’t have a care in the world and the reason why I
said it was that Shanghai had just shaken himself free of his latest female
entanglement … or so he thought.
We turned
on down to the right to head past the race track onto Nanking Road where we
planned a little get-together with some of our shipmates. We were just about
opposite the race track when a look of pure terror came into Shanghai’s eyes…
“You,
Boy, chop-chop! Plenty chop-chop you get mutchee cumshaw!”
…
Shanghai shouted urgently at his rickshaw boy…
“Ah, ah,”
chanted the rickshaw boy while putting on a burst of speed, “Ding-hao, me
chop-chop, all light.”
Tubby and
I didn’t know what all the excitement was about but we told our boys to step
out “masque” (never mind) the cost in order to keep up with our shipmate. I
might add that Tubby’s boy had quite a time getting upturns, what with the
heavy cargo he was shipping …
“Hey,
Shanghai! Wait for us. What’s the score?”
… I
yelled after the fleeing bos’n’s mate …
“Trouble!
Plenty of Trouble! Natasha is following us!”
I looked
astern and sure enough, there was a pretty pleasantly plump, but completely
infuriated blonde fast overtaking us. No mistake, that was Natasha all right.
Natasha
was a former flame of Shanghai’s … a White Russian girl who sold tickets at the
Jai-alai stadium in town. She and Shanghai had been pretty thick at one time,
particularly as she used to give him some pretty good tips on who might win the
Jai-alai matches each night. Lately, though, Shanghai had begun to consider
himself foot-loose and fancy-free. Natasha didn’t agree and it looked as if
Shanghai would end up with either Natasha or a broken head. A good many of
those refugee Russian gals were built on substantial lines and in a
free-for-all with no holds barred, I’d have given Natasha the edge on almost
any bos’n’s mate.
Evidently, Shanghai felt the same way because we went careening down the crowded street,
even going through a traffic light and getting cussed at by one of those tall turbaned
Indian Singh cops. We were in front of Wing-On’s big department store before we
stopped and Shanghai leaped to the deck and threw a couple of Chinese dollars at
the panting rickshaw boy and disappeared into the store. We followed … and so
did Natasha.
Then
began a real game of hide-and-seek. Wing On’s was a large store. I guess you
might have called it the Marshall-Fields of the Far East, so there was plenty
of room for the race. Somehow Tubby and I managed to keep up with Shanghai and
squeeze into an elevator just in time to have the elevator door slam shut in
Natasha’s determined face. That of course, gave us a breathing spell since she
couldn’t know at what floor we’d get off. We decided to go on up to one of the
top floors where the Chinese theaters were. You may think it funny that a
department store would run a theater, but wait until I tell you that it was
three floors of theaters, each floor with half a dozen shows going on at
once. Personally, I think it’s a very good idea and one that we could well use
at home.
But I
digress … we picked out the most crowded show we could find and sat down on a
bench in the middle trying to look inconspicuous. The waiter came around and we
ordered tea and watermelon seeds. You see, in a Chinese theater, everybody goes
for a sort of social get-together. Most Chinese have memorized the plays during
childhood and only look at the stage occasionally to check up on the actors.
Furthermore, when the most important actors appear, the orchestra consisting of
cymbals and a one-string banjo make a big racket. That lets the audience know
when they ought to pay attention, I guess. So there we sat drinking tea and
chewing on watermelon seeds and every so often applying a hot towel to our
faces, another good Chinese custom that we ought to look into, as being quite
refreshing.
On the
stage, an attractive Chinese actress wearing a beautiful multi-colored gown and
a high headdress was reciting her part. The stagehands were wandering around
setting up various items. Everything is symbolic of something. One potted palm
may mean a whole forest’ one man an army. This saved on space and money and as
long as the audience understood the representation, there was no need for more.
The Chinese are smart people.
Suddenly
Tubby turned and pointed…
“There
she is! There she is! All hands take cover!”
… Tubby
Roared …
Sure
enough, there was Natasha looking intently down the rows of people. Shanghai
became very busy with his hot towel. We followed suit with me peeking out of
the corner of my eye at our pursuer.
“She’s seen us,” I whispered as Natasha’s
glare came to rest on the quarry.
At that,
Shanghai jumped up and dashed forward. He made an end-run around the side of
the stage and disappeared, while Natasha came over and joined us.
“Vat ‘av
you done weeth my leetle Shanghai?”
… she
coldly asked …
We didn’t
get a chance to lie to her because just then the stagehands removed a huge
piece of painted cardboard from the stage, the cardboard having represented a
fortified city. Well, Shanghai was behind the fortified city and when it was
removed, there he was right out on the stage looking as though his defenses
really were down. Worst of all, the orchestra started a terrific noise as if
Shanghai were the local Clark Gable!
There
wasn’t much to do except to slip the anchor chain again. Natasha got mixed up
in the aisle with one of the waiters, so we got away scot-free and all the way
down to the street again.
As we
emerged into the open air, Shanghai noticed some rickshaws pulled up at the
curb. All of them were empty except on in which the occupant was covered
completely with a rickshaw robe, a corpse no doubt being moved from one place
to another. Shanghai paused only an instant and then leaped into an empty
rickshaw.
He
quickly explained …
“Now, I’m
going to play dead. You go on ahead and have my boy follow. I’ll cover up with
the rickshaw robe and we’ll get the jump on her that way.”
The
scheme sounded good. Shanghai covered himself with the robe which every rickshaw
carries while Tubby and I engaged two more rickshaws. Then I turned and
beckoned Shanghai’s boy to follow us. He didn’t seem very willing, so to
convince him I promised plenty of cumshaw for the trip. It was a good thing,
too, for there was Natasha and she had spotted us.
Another
wild ride followed. I couldn’t be sure whether Natasha would follow us or not,
so I urged the boys on. We made an all-time record getting down to the landing …
“Okay,
Shanghai, you furl your awning now.”
… I said
to the blanket-covered form …
No answer
… Tubby and I walked over curiously. We threw back the robe…
“Hey, you …”
I started to say and ended up with a squawk.
It wasn’t
Shanghai at all but a genuine honest-to-goodness corpse. We were so startled
that we didn’t even notice that Natasha was standing by us until she gave a
scream of horror. No wonder the rickshaw boy hadn’t wanted to follow us. We had
taken the wrong chariot!
“That’s
what comes of helping your shipmates,” complained Tubby. Shanghai’s probably
gone off with some other babe by now and we’re left holding the … I mean the
corpse and Natasha!”
“Yeah,” I
agreed. “And furthermore, we better get the deceased back where he came from
ore we’ll end up in the brig!”
It was
not an ideal situation…
About
that time we were attracted to a commotion on the landing. Turning, we saw
Shanghai followed by several indignant Chinese locals all headed for us.
Shanghai was sweating and wiping his brow anxiously.
“Where’s
that body?” he bellowed to me …
“Natasha’s
here, Don Juan; perhaps I ought to say ‘which body!’”
Poor
Shanghai grabbed me and Tubby by the arm and shoved us into a sampan then
tumbled in himself at the same time urging the boatman to shove off. We shot
out from the landing with Natasha screaming Russian explicative in our general
direction while the people who had come to the dock with Shanghai were shaking their
fists at him. They were obviously the owners of the corpse and would probably
calm down now that they had the body once again. I just couldn’t imagine Natasha
calming down though.
Shanghai
began to tell us this story…
“When I
got under the blanket, I noticed that we weren’t getting underway, yet I didn’t
dare come out for a look-see because of the wild Natasha. Must’ve been five
minutes before we began to move and I still didn’t dare uncover. Well, we went
for about five blocks, and the sopped. I figured it was okay to come out, so I
took the robe off… ‘Lord have mercy!’ I don’t know who was the more surprised,
me or the Chinese undertakers. There I was right in the middle of a bunch of coffins.
The undertakers looked as if they wished they were somewhere else almost as
much as I did. I finally convinced them I was alive all right and then they were
mad. I don’t blame them either … seems that one of them left the corpse parked
outside Wing-On’s telling the rickshaw boy that another man would be along to
pick it up in a few minutes. So you ended up with the boy, and I ended up in
the morgue. Whew!”
As I said
before, Shanghai always had a lot of gal trouble. Yet after the incident, he
stayed out of trouble with the ladies for a whole darned week! Yeah, you
guessed it … he didn’t leave the ship for a week.
(
The End )
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