SUSAN WAS WAKED early by the shrilling of whistle signals. She got up at once. With only one more day before the Dragon Feast it was not going to be easy getting that dragon done. What with Latin and then being out all yesterday and not getting home till lantern-time, what should have been an easy job was going to be a hard one. Miss Lee had said the students’ dragon would please her men. Captain Flint had said that it was a good thing to please them. Susan was near the bottom of the class in Latin, but when it came to sewing she knew that she could pull her weight and more. Somehow or other that dragon should get done. The others woke to find her busily stitching, and ready for help as soon as she could get it. It was a dreadful piece of work. The dragon’s skin was made of stout red cloth with an outer skin of golden scales. A solid join had to be made between the two parts of the skin, and then a lot of scales had to be fitted in and sewn on so as to hide the join. The enormous head of the dragon was made of a sort of papier mâché, to be light for carrying. A lot of the gold paint had worn off, as well as much of the red from the gaping jaws.
‘He looks a bit shabby,’ said Titty.
‘It’ll do,’ said John. ‘Miss Lee said it was an old one they weren’t going to use again.’
‘If I could get some paint,’ said Titty.
‘Ask Miss Lee,’ said Susan, sucking the end of a bit of thread. ‘Oh, look here, Nancy, if you get it crooked that side we’ll have to unpick and start again.’
‘Bother your dragon, Roger,’ said Nancy, as Roger came in from the courtyard, where he had been paying a visit to Gibber.
‘I say,’ said Roger, ‘Gibber and I watched Captain Flint being shaved in his cage, and we saw old three-hair beard being carried out in a chair, and Captain Flint got himself cut turning round to look at him.’
The bell rang, and they left the dragon to hurry through the garden to breakfast.
‘Salvete discipuli!’ said Miss Lee as they greeted her, but they knew she was thinking of something else.
The amah brought in Captain Flint, with a thin line of red on his chin, where the Chinese barber had cut him. He was looking worried and mumbled a ‘Good morning’, which Miss Lee hardly seemed to hear.
Breakfast began in silence. They were half-way through it before John dared to say, ‘Miss Lee, we never thanked you yesterday for taking us to the island.’
Miss Lee looked at him. ‘I had hoped,’ she said, ‘to show the Taicoon Wu that he could aglee with me against my counsellor and Chang.’
‘I fear I spoilt that, ma’am,’ said Captain Flint.
‘It is now worse. Velly much worse,’ said Miss Lee. ‘Wu and Chang have asked to see my counsellor. Why not me?’ Miss Lee seemed to ask that question of herself. ‘Well, I have sent them my counsellor . . .’
‘We saw him going out,’ said Roger. ‘That’s how Captain Flint got his chin cut.’
‘Only his chin,’ said Miss Lee.
It was not until breakfast was over that Titty dared to ask about the paint. ‘It doesn’t want a lot,’ she said. ‘It’s just for places on his head, and bits of his jaws are white instead of bloody.’
For the first time Miss Lee smiled. ‘Loger’s dlagon?’ she said. ‘All light. You shall have some.’
Then Roger, the favourite pupil, dared to remind Miss Lee that yesterday’s holiday had given them no time for preparation.
‘No matter,’ said Miss Lee. ‘We will see how much you have forgotten and we can tlanslate without plepalation.’
It was a queer lesson. They were surprised themselves to find how much they had remembered. If they had been model students, Miss Lee had certainly been a most successful teacher. Or else, as sometimes happens, she asked each one the question to which he knew the answer. Even Nancy satisfied the examiner. But, though Miss Lee was pleased, they knew her mind was somewhere else. Sometimes there was a long wait between one question and the next, while Miss Lee turned the pages of the grammar book as if she did not see them. Sometimes, even though it was answered promptly, she seemed to have forgotten what question she had asked.
Towards the end of the morning they heard a noise in the courtyard outside. The amah came in and spoke to Miss Lee.
‘The counsellor is come back,’ she said, and went out after the amah.
‘We’ll know the worst now,’ said Captain Flint.
‘If we’re in disgrace,’ asked Roger, ‘what do you think she’ll do? Not let us go to the Dragon Feast?’
‘Much worse than that,’ said Captain Flint.
She was a long time gone. When she came back, she was no longer the kindly schoolmistress, but much more like the Missee Lee they had seen for the first time, sitting formidable in the council room among her captains. She sat down, her lips tightly closed, her eyes narrowed, her fingers drumming on the table.
‘The Taicoons thleaten mutiny,’ she said at last. ‘Wu has told Chang it is not safe to keep you here one minute. They say my father was light. No English plisoners. They ask me to cut the heads of my students . . .’
There was a long silence.
‘What cheek,’ said Nancy at last.
‘Yes,’ said Miss Lee. ‘They ask for an answer, now. They ask me to aglee, Yes or No.’
They heard the shrill whistling of the signaller, a very short message. Roger looked up.
‘I send them the answer,’ said Miss Lee. ‘I send them the answer, No.’
‘Good for you,’ said Nancy.
‘That’s all right,’ said Roger.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Captain Flint.
‘What will they do now?’ said Titty.
‘Nothing,’ said Miss Lee. ‘Wu will do nothing without Chang. Chang will do nothing because you are not his plisoners. Chang is gleedy, velly gleedy. I paid him money. Much money. I let Chang keep his San Flancisco in exchange for my students. And then I bought him because you wanted him. Chang will take big lisk lather than give up money. Chang will do nothing at all.’
‘I don’t much like your having bought me,’ said Captain Flint and stammered into silence under Miss Lee’s eyes.
‘You should be happy I did,’ said Miss Lee.
And then, as if nothing had been the matter, she set them their work. ‘No lesson tomollow,’ she said, ‘because of Dlagon Feast. But you must do some plepalation for the next day.’
‘Miss Lee,’ said Roger, ‘we’ll go to the Dragon Feast just the same?’
‘I plomised you should,’ said Miss Lee, ‘and you shall.’
Work on the dragon was in full swing. A man had brought in two bowls, one of red paint and one of gold, and had showed by hard stirring how it was to be used. Titty, with splodges of gold on her face and hands, was making the dragon’s head look like new. Roger was painting its fiery tongue. The tail end of the dragon was flopped along one side of the room, with a bit of it hanging over the table to meet the other end draped over a couple of chairs. John, Captain Flint and Peggy were holding the join so that Susan and Nancy could pass from one to the other the needle to and fro, doing the long lines of stitching that were to hold the ends together. Miss Lee came through the garden.
‘Vide, nostra domina, nostrum draconem,’ said Roger.
‘Domina nostla would be better, Loger,’ said Miss Lee. ‘But velly plomising.’
She stayed, watching her pupils for some minutes, and went away again.
‘Funny,’ said Captain Flint. ‘I wonder why she came.’
‘She’s bothered about something,’ said Titty.
‘Wondering what those bloodthirsty Taicoons’ll be up to next,’ said Captain Flint.
‘They can’t do a thing,’ said Nancy. ‘You heard her say so. She swopped us for you, letting Chang keep you, and then she bought you. We’re her property, not theirs.’
The dragon needed no more red paint and Roger had more than once asked if they were not going for a walk at all, and Susan had said that he and John too were more of a hindrance than a help in difficult sewing, when Captain Flint said, ‘Come on, Skipper, and you, too, Roger, we’ll clear out and leave the experts to it.’
‘Now we’ll really get ahead,’ said Susan as soon as they had gone, and as soon as Titty had covered the last bare patch on the head with gold and left it to dry, she and Susan worked at one seam, while Nancy and Peggy worked at another. ‘Four rows of stitching at the very least,’ Susan had said when they began. ‘It’ll only pull apart if we have less.’
John, Roger and Captain Flint had been gone about an hour and a half when the dragon-menders heard a noise in the courtyard.
‘Who is it this time?’ said Titty. ‘Shall I go and see?’
‘What does it matter?’ said Susan. ‘If we don’t hurry we’ll never get done.’
And then Miss Lee came in again. She looked all round at once.
‘Where is Loger?’ she asked.
‘Gone for a walk with John and Captain Flint,’ said Susan.
‘Do you want him?’ said Titty. ‘Shall I go and look for him?’
‘Which way did they go?’ asked Miss Lee.
‘They didn’t say,’ said Nancy.
‘John was saying something about looking at the river,’ said Peggy, ‘just as they went out.’
Miss Lee made as if to go through the house to the courtyard but changed her mind. She went out to the garden but only for a moment. She came back and sat down. The others went on with the mending of the dragon.
Miss Lee stood up again, and began walking to and fro. Titty, underneath a fold of the dragon, passing the needle through to Susan above, watched the flickering of her little gold shoes.
‘Velly clever painter,’ said Miss Lee, looking at the dragon’s head, and then, ‘Pelhaps I had better send . . . Susan, were they going for a long walk?’
They all felt the worry in her voice. Susan lost the thread out of her needle.
‘What is it?’ said Titty. ‘Has something happened?’
‘I will tell you,’ said Miss Lee, after listening for a moment. ‘I will tell you. Chang has sent back the money that I paid him.’
‘Oh good,’ said Titty. ‘Captain Flint was awfully bothered about it.’
‘It is not good,’ said Miss Lee. ‘You do not understand. It means that Chang will now count that you are still his plisoners, not mine. He has got nothing for you, not even Captain Flint . . . He is flee to do what he likes. It means that . . .’
The door from the courtyard burst open and Roger came racing in holding his hat at arm’s length before him.
‘Look, look, Nancy,’ he shouted. ‘We were looking at the river all in flood . . . No, no, Miss Lee, we hadn’t gone to the ferry or anywhere we mustn’t . . . We were looking at the river and there was a bang . . . and I heard something whizz . . . and my hat flew off, and look at it!’ And he pointed to a clean hole through the brim.
‘Roger,’ cried Susan.
‘Roger,’ cried Nancy. ‘You lucky, lucky beast!’
‘Some careless fellow shooting at birds,’ said Captain Flint as he came in with John.
‘No,’ said Miss Lee. ‘Shooting at you. That is what it means . . . Tell him what has happened . . . Listen! You are none of you to go outside the yamen. No. Not one. Not even in the garden. I must see my counsellor at once . . .’
And Miss Lee was gone.
