CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
A DISAPPOINTMENT.
"Very jolly for you," said Barkins, as we cast anchor off Tsin-Tsin a couple of mornings later.

"You'll be going ashore and enjoying yourself, while I'm condemned to hobble on deck with a stick." "I say, don't grumble," I cried.

"Look how beautiful the place seems in the sunshine." "Oh yes, it looks right enough; but wait till you go along the narrow streets, and get some of the smells." "Hear that, Smithy ?" I said to our comrade, who was lying in his berth.
"Grumbles because he can't go ashore, and then begins making out how bad it is.

How about the fox and the grapes ?" "If you call me fox, my lad, I'll give you sour grapes when I get better.

Where's your glass ?" I took down my telescope, adjusted it for him, and pushed his seat nearer to the open window, so that he could examine the bright-looking city, with the blue plum-bloom tinted mountains behind covered with dense forest, and at the shipping of all nations lying at the mouth of the river.
"S'pose that tower's made of crockery, isn't it ?" said Barkins, whose eye was at the end of the telescope.
I looked at the beautiful object, with its pagoda-like terraces and hanging bells, and then at the various temples nestling high up on the sides of the hills beyond.
"I say," said Smith, "can't you tell Mr Reardon--no, get the doctor to tell him--that I ought to be taken ashore for a bit to do me good ?" "I'll ask him to let you go," I said; but Smith shook his head, and then screwed up his white face with a horrible look of disgust.
"Oh, what a shame!" he cried.