Chapter Three.Cutting it Close.My messmate uttered these words close to my ears in a despairing tone as we dashed on, and now I saw Ching strike to his right, while I made a cut or two at my left, as men started from the sides and tried to trip us up.I was growing faint with the heat down in that narrow, breathless street, my clothes stuck to me, and Barkins’ heavy telescope banged heavily against my side, making me feel ready to unfasten the strap and let it fall. But I kept on for another fifty yards or so with our enemies yelling in the rear, and the waterside seeming to grow no nearer.“Keep together, lads,” cried Barkins excitedly. “It can’t be far now. We’ll seize the first boat we come to, and the tide will soon take us out of their reach.”But these words came in a broken, spasmodic way, for, poor fellow, he was as out of breath as any of us.“Hoolay! Velly lit’ way now,” cried Ching; and then he finished with a howl of rage, for half-a-dozen armed men suddenly appeared from a gateway below us, and we saw at a glance that they were about to take sides with the rest.“Lun—lun,” yelled Ching, and, flourishing his sword, he led us right at the newcomers, who, startled and astounded by our apparent boldness, gave way, and we panted on, utterly exhausted, for another fifty yards, till Ching suddenly stopped in an angle of the street formed by a projecting house.“No lun. No, no!” he panted. “Fight—kill.”Following his example, we faced round, and our bold front checked the miserable gang of wretches, who stopped short a dozen yards from us, their numbers swelled by the new party, and waited yelling and howling behind the swordsmen, who stood drawing up their sleeves, and brandishing their heavy weapons, working themselves up for the final rush, in which I knew we should be hacked to pieces.“Good-bye, old chap,” whispered Barkins in a piteous tone, his voice coming in sobs of exhaustion. “Give point when they come on: don’t strike. Try and kill one of the cowardly beggars before they finish us.”“Yes,” I gasped.“Chuck that spyglass down,” cried Smith; “it’s in your way.”Gladly enough I swung the great telescope round, slipped the strap over my head, and as I did so I saw a sudden movement in the crowd.In an instant the experience we had had upon the river flashed across my brain. I recalled how the crew of the great tea-boat had dropped away from her high stern when Barkins had used the glass, and for the first time I grasped why this had been.My next actions were in a mad fit of desperate mischief more than anything else. For, recalling that I had a few flaming fusees in my jacket pocket, I snatched out the box, secured one; then, taking off the cap, which hung by a strap, I pulled the brass and leather telescope out to its full extent, presented the large end at the mob, uttered as savage a yell as I could and struck a fusee, which went off with a crack, and flashed and sparkled with plenty of blaze.The effect was instantaneous. Mistaking the big glass, which had been a burden to me all day, for some terrible new form of gun, the swordsmen uttered a wild yell of horror, and turned and fled, driving the unarmed mob before them, all adding their savage cries of dread.“Hoor-rah,” shouted Barkins. “Now, boys, a Yankee tiger. Waggle the glass well, Gnat. All together. Hurrah—rah—rah—rah—rah!”We produced as good an imitation of the American cheer as we could, and Ching supplemented it with a hideous crack-voiced yell, while I raised and lowered the glass and struck another match.As we looked up the street we could see part of the mob still running hard, but the swordsmen had taken refuge to right and left, in doorways, angles, and in side shops, and were peering round at us, watching every movement.“No’ laugh!” said Ching anxiously. “Big fool. Think um bleech-loader. Now, come ’long, walkee walkee blackward. I go first.”It was good advice, and we began our retreat, having the street to ourselves for the first minute. My messmates supported me on either side, and we walked backward with military precision.“Well done, gun carriage,” panted Barkins to me. “I say, Blacksmith, who says the old glass isn’t worth a hundred pounds now?”“Worth a thousand,” cried Smith excitedly. “But look out, they’re coming out of their holes again.”I made the object-glass end describe a circle in the air as we slowly backed, and the swordsmen darted away to the shelters they had quitted to follow us as they saw us in retreat. But as there was no report, and they saw us escaping, they began to shout one to the other, and ran to and fro, zig-zagging down the street after us, each man darting across to a fresh place of shelter. And as the retreat went on, and no report with a rush of bullets tore up the street, the men gained courage; the mob high up began to gather again. Then there was distant yelling and shouting, and the danger seemed to thicken.“Is it much farther, Ching?” cried Barkins.“Yes, velly long way,” he replied. “No’ got no levolvers?”“No, I wish I had.”“Fine levolver bull-dog in fancee shop, and plenty cahtlidge. Walkee fast.”We were walking backwards as fast as we could, and the danger increased. In place of running right across now from shelter to shelter, the big swordsmen stopped from time to time on their way to flourish their weapons, yell, indulge in a kind of war-dance, and shout out words we did not understand.“What do they say, Ching?” asked Smith.“Say chop all in lit’ small piece dilectly.”“Look here,” cried Barkins, as the demonstrations increased, and the wretches now began to gather on each side of the street as if threatening a rush, “let’s stop and have a shot at ’em.”“No, no,” cried Ching, “won’t go off blang.”“Never mind, we’ll pretend it will. Halt!”We stopped, so did our enemies, and, in imitation of the big gun practice on board ship, Barkins shouted out order after order, ending with, Fire!Smith held the flaming fusees now, and at the word struck one with a loud crackle, just as we were beginning to doubt the efficacy of our ruse, for the enemy were watching us keenly; and, though some of them moved uneasily and threatened to run for shelter, the greater part stood firm.But at the loud crackle and flash of the fusee, and Smith’s gesture to lay it close to the eye-piece, they turned and fled yelling once more into the houses on either side, from which now came an addition to the noise, in the shrill howls and shrieks of women, who were evidently resenting the invasion of all these men.“Now, walkee far,” cried Ching. “No good no mo’. Allee fun lun out. No be big fool any longer.”We felt that he was right, and retreated as fast as we could, but still backward, mine being the duty to keep the mouth of our sham cannon to bear upon them as well as the blundering backward through the mudholes of the dirty street would allow.That street seemed to be endless to us in our excitement, and the feeling that our guide must be taking us wrong began to grow upon me, for I made no allowances for the long distance we had gone over in the morning, while now it grew more and more plain, by the actions of our pursuers, that they were to be cheated no more. The dummy had done its duty, and I felt that I might just as well throw it away and leave myself free, as expect the glass to scare the enemy away again.“We shall have to make a rush for it,” said Barkins at last; “but it is hard now we have got so near to safety. Shall I try the telescope again, Ching?”“No, no good,” said our guide gloomily. “Hi, quick all along here.”He made a dash for the front of a house, which seemed to offer some little refuge for us in the shape of a low fencing, behind which we could protect ourselves; for all at once there was a new development of the attack, the mob having grown during the last few minutes more daring, and now began to throw mud and stones.Ching’s sudden dash had its effect upon them, for when he ran they set up a howl of triumph, and as we dashed after our guide they suddenly altered their tactics, ceased stone-throwing, and, led by the swordsmen, charged down upon us furiously.“It’s all over,” groaned Smith, as we leaped over the low fence and faced round.And so it seemed to be, for the next minute we were stopping and dodging the blows aimed at us. It was all one wild confusion to me, in which I saw through a mist the gleaming eyes and savage faces of the mob. Then, above their howlings, and just as I was staggering back from a heavy blow which I received from a great sword, which was swept round with two hands and caught me with a loud jar on the side, I heard a familiar cheer, and saw the man who had struck me go down backwards, driven over as it were by a broad-bladed spear. As I struggled to my knees, I saw the savage mob in full flight, chased by a dozen blue-jackets, who halted and ran back to where we were, in obedience to a shrill whistle. Then—it was all more misty to me—two strong arms were passed under mine; I saw Smith treated in the same way; and, pursued by the crowd howling like demons, we were trotted at the double down the street to the wharf, which was after all close at hand, and swung down into the boat.“Push off!” shouted a familiar voice, and the wharf and the crowd began to grow distant, but stones flew after us till the officer in command fired shot after shot from his revolver over the heads of the crowd, which then took to flight.“What are we to do with the prisoner, sir—chuck him overboard?”“Prisoner?” cried the officer in charge of the boat.“Yes, sir, we got him, sword and all. He’s the chap as come aboard yesterday.”“Yes,” I panted as I sat up, breathing painfully, “it’s Ching. He’s our friend.”“Yes, flend, evelibody fiend,” cried Ching. “Wantee go shore. Fancee shop.”“Go ashore?” said the officer.“Yes, walkee shore.”“But if I set you ashore amongst that howling mob, they’ll cut you to pieces.”“Ching ’flaid so. Allee bad man. Wantee kill young offlicer.”“And he fought for us, Mr Brown, like a brick,” said Barkins.“Then we must take him aboard for the present.”“Yes, go ’board, please,” said Ching plaintively. “Not my sword—b’long mandalin man.”“Let’s see where you’re wounded,” said the officer, as the men rowed steadily back towards theTeaser.“I—I don’t think I’m wounded,” I panted, “but it hurts me rather to breathe.”“Why, I saw one of the brutes cut you down with his big sword,” cried Smith.“Yes,” I said, “I felt it, but, but—yes, of course: it hit me here.”“Oh, murder!” cried Smith. “Look here, Tanner. Your glass has got it and no mistake.”It had “got it” and no mistake, for the blow from the keen sword had struck it at a sharp angle, and cut three parts of the way through the thick metal tube, which had been driven with tremendous force against my ribs.“Oh, Gnat!” cried Barkins, as he saw the mischief, “it’s quite spoilt. What a jolly shame!”“But it saved his life,” said Smith, giving him a meaning nod. “I wouldn’t have given much for his chance, if he hadn’t had that telescope under his arm. I say, Mr Brown, why was the gun fired?”“To bring you all on board. Captain’s got some information. Look, we’ve weighed anchor, and we’re off directly—somewhere.”“But what about Ching?” I said to Barkins.“Ching! Well, he’ll be safe on board and unsafe ashore. I don’t suppose we shall be away above a day. I say, Ching, you’ll have to stop.”“Me don’t mind. Velly hungly once more. Wantee pipe and go sleepee. Velly tire. Too much fightee.”We glided alongside of the gunboat the next minute, where Mr Reardon was waiting for us impatiently.“Come, young gentlemen,” he cried, “you’ve kept us waiting two hours. Up with you. Good gracious, what a state you’re in! Nice addition to a well-dishiplined ship! and—here, what’s the meaning of this?” he cried, as the boat rose to the davits. “Who is this Chinese boy?”“Velly glad get ’board,” said the man, smiling at the important officer. “All along big fight. Me Ching.”
My messmate uttered these words close to my ears in a despairing tone as we dashed on, and now I saw Ching strike to his right, while I made a cut or two at my left, as men started from the sides and tried to trip us up.
I was growing faint with the heat down in that narrow, breathless street, my clothes stuck to me, and Barkins’ heavy telescope banged heavily against my side, making me feel ready to unfasten the strap and let it fall. But I kept on for another fifty yards or so with our enemies yelling in the rear, and the waterside seeming to grow no nearer.
“Keep together, lads,” cried Barkins excitedly. “It can’t be far now. We’ll seize the first boat we come to, and the tide will soon take us out of their reach.”
But these words came in a broken, spasmodic way, for, poor fellow, he was as out of breath as any of us.
“Hoolay! Velly lit’ way now,” cried Ching; and then he finished with a howl of rage, for half-a-dozen armed men suddenly appeared from a gateway below us, and we saw at a glance that they were about to take sides with the rest.
“Lun—lun,” yelled Ching, and, flourishing his sword, he led us right at the newcomers, who, startled and astounded by our apparent boldness, gave way, and we panted on, utterly exhausted, for another fifty yards, till Ching suddenly stopped in an angle of the street formed by a projecting house.
“No lun. No, no!” he panted. “Fight—kill.”
Following his example, we faced round, and our bold front checked the miserable gang of wretches, who stopped short a dozen yards from us, their numbers swelled by the new party, and waited yelling and howling behind the swordsmen, who stood drawing up their sleeves, and brandishing their heavy weapons, working themselves up for the final rush, in which I knew we should be hacked to pieces.
“Good-bye, old chap,” whispered Barkins in a piteous tone, his voice coming in sobs of exhaustion. “Give point when they come on: don’t strike. Try and kill one of the cowardly beggars before they finish us.”
“Yes,” I gasped.
“Chuck that spyglass down,” cried Smith; “it’s in your way.”
Gladly enough I swung the great telescope round, slipped the strap over my head, and as I did so I saw a sudden movement in the crowd.
In an instant the experience we had had upon the river flashed across my brain. I recalled how the crew of the great tea-boat had dropped away from her high stern when Barkins had used the glass, and for the first time I grasped why this had been.
My next actions were in a mad fit of desperate mischief more than anything else. For, recalling that I had a few flaming fusees in my jacket pocket, I snatched out the box, secured one; then, taking off the cap, which hung by a strap, I pulled the brass and leather telescope out to its full extent, presented the large end at the mob, uttered as savage a yell as I could and struck a fusee, which went off with a crack, and flashed and sparkled with plenty of blaze.
The effect was instantaneous. Mistaking the big glass, which had been a burden to me all day, for some terrible new form of gun, the swordsmen uttered a wild yell of horror, and turned and fled, driving the unarmed mob before them, all adding their savage cries of dread.
“Hoor-rah,” shouted Barkins. “Now, boys, a Yankee tiger. Waggle the glass well, Gnat. All together. Hurrah—rah—rah—rah—rah!”
We produced as good an imitation of the American cheer as we could, and Ching supplemented it with a hideous crack-voiced yell, while I raised and lowered the glass and struck another match.
As we looked up the street we could see part of the mob still running hard, but the swordsmen had taken refuge to right and left, in doorways, angles, and in side shops, and were peering round at us, watching every movement.
“No’ laugh!” said Ching anxiously. “Big fool. Think um bleech-loader. Now, come ’long, walkee walkee blackward. I go first.”
It was good advice, and we began our retreat, having the street to ourselves for the first minute. My messmates supported me on either side, and we walked backward with military precision.
“Well done, gun carriage,” panted Barkins to me. “I say, Blacksmith, who says the old glass isn’t worth a hundred pounds now?”
“Worth a thousand,” cried Smith excitedly. “But look out, they’re coming out of their holes again.”
I made the object-glass end describe a circle in the air as we slowly backed, and the swordsmen darted away to the shelters they had quitted to follow us as they saw us in retreat. But as there was no report, and they saw us escaping, they began to shout one to the other, and ran to and fro, zig-zagging down the street after us, each man darting across to a fresh place of shelter. And as the retreat went on, and no report with a rush of bullets tore up the street, the men gained courage; the mob high up began to gather again. Then there was distant yelling and shouting, and the danger seemed to thicken.
“Is it much farther, Ching?” cried Barkins.
“Yes, velly long way,” he replied. “No’ got no levolvers?”
“No, I wish I had.”
“Fine levolver bull-dog in fancee shop, and plenty cahtlidge. Walkee fast.”
We were walking backwards as fast as we could, and the danger increased. In place of running right across now from shelter to shelter, the big swordsmen stopped from time to time on their way to flourish their weapons, yell, indulge in a kind of war-dance, and shout out words we did not understand.
“What do they say, Ching?” asked Smith.
“Say chop all in lit’ small piece dilectly.”
“Look here,” cried Barkins, as the demonstrations increased, and the wretches now began to gather on each side of the street as if threatening a rush, “let’s stop and have a shot at ’em.”
“No, no,” cried Ching, “won’t go off blang.”
“Never mind, we’ll pretend it will. Halt!”
We stopped, so did our enemies, and, in imitation of the big gun practice on board ship, Barkins shouted out order after order, ending with, Fire!
Smith held the flaming fusees now, and at the word struck one with a loud crackle, just as we were beginning to doubt the efficacy of our ruse, for the enemy were watching us keenly; and, though some of them moved uneasily and threatened to run for shelter, the greater part stood firm.
But at the loud crackle and flash of the fusee, and Smith’s gesture to lay it close to the eye-piece, they turned and fled yelling once more into the houses on either side, from which now came an addition to the noise, in the shrill howls and shrieks of women, who were evidently resenting the invasion of all these men.
“Now, walkee far,” cried Ching. “No good no mo’. Allee fun lun out. No be big fool any longer.”
We felt that he was right, and retreated as fast as we could, but still backward, mine being the duty to keep the mouth of our sham cannon to bear upon them as well as the blundering backward through the mudholes of the dirty street would allow.
That street seemed to be endless to us in our excitement, and the feeling that our guide must be taking us wrong began to grow upon me, for I made no allowances for the long distance we had gone over in the morning, while now it grew more and more plain, by the actions of our pursuers, that they were to be cheated no more. The dummy had done its duty, and I felt that I might just as well throw it away and leave myself free, as expect the glass to scare the enemy away again.
“We shall have to make a rush for it,” said Barkins at last; “but it is hard now we have got so near to safety. Shall I try the telescope again, Ching?”
“No, no good,” said our guide gloomily. “Hi, quick all along here.”
He made a dash for the front of a house, which seemed to offer some little refuge for us in the shape of a low fencing, behind which we could protect ourselves; for all at once there was a new development of the attack, the mob having grown during the last few minutes more daring, and now began to throw mud and stones.
Ching’s sudden dash had its effect upon them, for when he ran they set up a howl of triumph, and as we dashed after our guide they suddenly altered their tactics, ceased stone-throwing, and, led by the swordsmen, charged down upon us furiously.
“It’s all over,” groaned Smith, as we leaped over the low fence and faced round.
And so it seemed to be, for the next minute we were stopping and dodging the blows aimed at us. It was all one wild confusion to me, in which I saw through a mist the gleaming eyes and savage faces of the mob. Then, above their howlings, and just as I was staggering back from a heavy blow which I received from a great sword, which was swept round with two hands and caught me with a loud jar on the side, I heard a familiar cheer, and saw the man who had struck me go down backwards, driven over as it were by a broad-bladed spear. As I struggled to my knees, I saw the savage mob in full flight, chased by a dozen blue-jackets, who halted and ran back to where we were, in obedience to a shrill whistle. Then—it was all more misty to me—two strong arms were passed under mine; I saw Smith treated in the same way; and, pursued by the crowd howling like demons, we were trotted at the double down the street to the wharf, which was after all close at hand, and swung down into the boat.
“Push off!” shouted a familiar voice, and the wharf and the crowd began to grow distant, but stones flew after us till the officer in command fired shot after shot from his revolver over the heads of the crowd, which then took to flight.
“What are we to do with the prisoner, sir—chuck him overboard?”
“Prisoner?” cried the officer in charge of the boat.
“Yes, sir, we got him, sword and all. He’s the chap as come aboard yesterday.”
“Yes,” I panted as I sat up, breathing painfully, “it’s Ching. He’s our friend.”
“Yes, flend, evelibody fiend,” cried Ching. “Wantee go shore. Fancee shop.”
“Go ashore?” said the officer.
“Yes, walkee shore.”
“But if I set you ashore amongst that howling mob, they’ll cut you to pieces.”
“Ching ’flaid so. Allee bad man. Wantee kill young offlicer.”
“And he fought for us, Mr Brown, like a brick,” said Barkins.
“Then we must take him aboard for the present.”
“Yes, go ’board, please,” said Ching plaintively. “Not my sword—b’long mandalin man.”
“Let’s see where you’re wounded,” said the officer, as the men rowed steadily back towards theTeaser.
“I—I don’t think I’m wounded,” I panted, “but it hurts me rather to breathe.”
“Why, I saw one of the brutes cut you down with his big sword,” cried Smith.
“Yes,” I said, “I felt it, but, but—yes, of course: it hit me here.”
“Oh, murder!” cried Smith. “Look here, Tanner. Your glass has got it and no mistake.”
It had “got it” and no mistake, for the blow from the keen sword had struck it at a sharp angle, and cut three parts of the way through the thick metal tube, which had been driven with tremendous force against my ribs.
“Oh, Gnat!” cried Barkins, as he saw the mischief, “it’s quite spoilt. What a jolly shame!”
“But it saved his life,” said Smith, giving him a meaning nod. “I wouldn’t have given much for his chance, if he hadn’t had that telescope under his arm. I say, Mr Brown, why was the gun fired?”
“To bring you all on board. Captain’s got some information. Look, we’ve weighed anchor, and we’re off directly—somewhere.”
“But what about Ching?” I said to Barkins.
“Ching! Well, he’ll be safe on board and unsafe ashore. I don’t suppose we shall be away above a day. I say, Ching, you’ll have to stop.”
“Me don’t mind. Velly hungly once more. Wantee pipe and go sleepee. Velly tire. Too much fightee.”
We glided alongside of the gunboat the next minute, where Mr Reardon was waiting for us impatiently.
“Come, young gentlemen,” he cried, “you’ve kept us waiting two hours. Up with you. Good gracious, what a state you’re in! Nice addition to a well-dishiplined ship! and—here, what’s the meaning of this?” he cried, as the boat rose to the davits. “Who is this Chinese boy?”
“Velly glad get ’board,” said the man, smiling at the important officer. “All along big fight. Me Ching.”
Chapter Four.Double Allowance.No time was lost in getting out of the mouth of the river, and as soon as the bustle and excitement of the start was over, we three were sent for to the cabin to relate our adventures to the captain, the first lieutenant being present to put in a word now and then.“The brutes!” the captain kept on muttering from time to time, and Mr Reardon nodded and tightened his lips.“Well, young gentlemen,” he said, when Barkins, who as eldest had been spokesman, finished his recital, “I can do nothing. If you had all three been brutally murdered, of course the Government could have made representations to the authorities, and your families would have secured compensation.”We glanced at one another.“But as, unfortunately—I mean fortunately—you have neither of you got a scratch, I can do nothing.”“But they were so awfully savage with us, sir,” said Smith.“Yes, Mr Smith, so I suppose. It is their nature; but we cannot punish an unknown mob. We must try and administer the castigation vicariously.”“Please, sir, I don’t understand you,” said Smith. “Do you mean—”“Set a vicar to talk to them, Mr Smith? No, I do not. I mean, as we have very good information about three or four piratical junks being in the straits between here and Amoy, we must come down heavily upon them, and administer the punishment there.”Mr Reardon nodded, and rubbed his hands.“This scrape of yours, though, will be a most severe lesson to me,” continued the captain. “It was very weak and easy of me to give you all leave for a run ashore. I ought to have referred you to Mr Reardon. But you may take it for granted that I shall not err again in this way. You can return on deck.”“Oh, what a jolly shame!” grumbled Barkins. “And there was old Reardon chuckling over it, and looking as pleased as Punch. Who’d be a middy? It’s like being in a floating prison.”But it was a very pleasant floating prison all the same, I could not help thinking, as we gradually got farther out from the land, over which the sun was sinking fast, and lighting up the mountain-tops with gold, while the valleys rapidly grew dark. Every one on the clean white deck was full of eager excitement, and the look-out most thoroughly on thequi vive. For the news that we were going up northward in search of some piratical junks sent a thrill through every breast. It meant work, the showing that we were doing some good on the China station, and possibly prize-money, perhaps promotion for some on board, though of course not for us.We had been upon the station several months, but it had not been our good fortune to capture any of the piratical scoundrels about whose doings the merchants—Chinese as well as European—were loud in complaint. And with justice, for several cruel massacres of crews had taken place before the ships had been scuttled and burned; besides, quite a dozen had sailed from port never to be heard of more; while the only consolation Captain Thwaites had for his trips here and there, and pursuit of enemies who disappeared like Flying Dutchmen, was that the presence of our gunboat upon the coast no doubt acted as a preventative, for we were told that there used to be three times as many acts of piracy before we came.And now, as we glided along full sail before a pleasant breeze, with the topgallant sails ruddy in the evening light, there seemed at last some prospect of real business, for it had leaked out that unless Captain Thwaites’ information was very delusive, the Chinamen had quite a rendezvous on one of the most out-of-the-way islands off Formosa, from whence they issued, looking like ordinary trading-boats, and that it was due to this nest alone that so much mischief had been done.A good meal down below, without dog or rat, as Barkins put it, had, in addition to a comfortable wash and change, made us forget a good deal of our weariness; and, as we were still off duty, we three loitered about the deck, picking up all the information we could regarding the way in which the news had been brought, in exchange for accounts of our own adventures, to insure credence in which Barkins carried about the nearly-divided telescope which had stood us in such good stead.It was rapidly growing dark, when, close under the bulwarks, and in very near neighbourhood to one of our big bow guns, we came upon what looked in the gloom like a heap of clothes.“What’s that?” I said.“Chine-he, sir,” said one of the sailors. “We give him a good tuck-out below, and he come up then for a snooze. Hi, John! The gents want to speak to you.”There was a quick movement, and a partly bald head appeared from beneath two loose sleeves, which had been folded over it like the wings of a flying fox, and Ching’s familiar squeaky voice said—“You wantee me. Go shore?”“No, no; not to-night,” cried Smith. “We shall set you ashore when we come back.”“You go velly far—allee way Gleat Blitain?”“No, not this time, Ching,” cried Barkins, as we all laughed.“No go allee way London? Ching wantee go London, see Queen Victolia and Plince o’ Wales.”“Some other time, Ching,” I said. “But I say, how about the fancy shop?”“Allee light. Ching go back.”“And how are you after our fight to-day?”“Velly angly. Allee muchee quite ’shame of mandalin men. Big lascal, evely one.”“So they are,” said Barkins. “But I say, Ching, are you a good sailor?”The Chinaman shook his head.“Ching velly good man, keep fancee shop. Ching not sailor.”“He means, can you go to sea without being sick?” I said, laughing.He gave us a comical look.“Don’tee know. Velly nicee now. Big offlicer say jolly sailor take gleat care Ching, and give hammock go to sleep. You got banjo, music—git-tar?”“One of the chaps has got one,” said Smith. “Why?”“You fetchee for Ching. I play, sing—‘ti-ope-I-ow’ for captain and jolly sailor. Makee Ching velly happy, and no makee sea-sick like coolie in big boat.”“Not to-night, Ching,” said Barkins decisively. “Come along, lads. I’m afraid,” he continued, as we strolled right forward, “that some of us would soon be pretty sick of it if he did begin that precious howling. But I say, we ought to look after him well, poor old chap; it’s precious rough on him to be taken out to sea like this.”“Yes,” I said; “and he behaved like a trump to us to-day.”“That he did,” assented Smith, as all three rested our arms on the rail, and looked at the twinkling distant lights of the shore.“You give Ching flee dollar,” said a voice close behind us, and we started round, to find that the object of our conversation had come up silently in his thick, softly-soled boots, in which his tight black trouser bottoms were tucked.“Three dollars!” cried Smith; “what for?”“Say all give Ching dollar show way.”“So we did,” cried Barkins. “I’d forgotten all about it.”“So had I.”“But you got us nearly killed,” protested Smith.“That was all in the bargain,” cried Barkins. “Well, I say he came out well, and I shall give him two dollars, though I am getting precious short.”“Flee dollar,” said Ching firmly. Then, shaking his head, he counted upon his fingers, “One, two, flee.”“It’s all right, Ching,” I said. “Two dollars apiece. Come on, Blacksmith.” I took out my two dollars. “Come, Tanner.”“No, no,” cried Ching; “tanner tickpence; two dollar tickpence won’t do. Flee dollar.”“It’s all right,” I said, and I held out my hand for my messmates’ contributions, afterward placing the six dollars in the Chinaman’s hand.His long-nailed fingers closed over the double amount, and he looked from one to the other as if he did not comprehend. Then he unwillingly divided the sum.“No light,” he said. “Flee dollar.”“The other for the fight,” I said, feeling pleased to have met a Chinaman who was not dishonest and grasping.“You wantee ’nother fight morrow?” he said, looking at me sharply. “Don’t know. Not aflaid.”“No, no; you don’t understand,” I cried, laughing. “We give you six dollars instead of three.”Ching nodded, and the silver money disappeared up his sleeve. Then his body writhed a little, and the arm and hand appeared again in the loose sleeve.“Sailor boy ’teal Ching dollar?”“Oh no,” I said confidently.“No pullee tail?”“Ah, that I can’t answer for,” I said. “Twist it up tightly.”“To be sure,” said Barkins. “It don’t do to put temptation in the poor fellows’ way. I’m afraid,” he continued, “that if I saw that hanging out of a hammock I should be obliged to have a tug.”Ching nodded, and stole away again into the darkness, for night had fallen now, and we were beginning to feel the waves dancing under us.An hour later I was in my cot fast asleep, and dreaming of fierce-looking Chinamen in showy-patterned coats making cuts at me with big swords, which were too blunt to cut, but which gave me plenty of pain, and this continued more or less all night. In the morning I knew the reason why, my left side was severely bruised, and for the next few days I could not move about without a reminder of the terrible cut the mandarin’s retainer had made at me with his sword.
No time was lost in getting out of the mouth of the river, and as soon as the bustle and excitement of the start was over, we three were sent for to the cabin to relate our adventures to the captain, the first lieutenant being present to put in a word now and then.
“The brutes!” the captain kept on muttering from time to time, and Mr Reardon nodded and tightened his lips.
“Well, young gentlemen,” he said, when Barkins, who as eldest had been spokesman, finished his recital, “I can do nothing. If you had all three been brutally murdered, of course the Government could have made representations to the authorities, and your families would have secured compensation.”
We glanced at one another.
“But as, unfortunately—I mean fortunately—you have neither of you got a scratch, I can do nothing.”
“But they were so awfully savage with us, sir,” said Smith.
“Yes, Mr Smith, so I suppose. It is their nature; but we cannot punish an unknown mob. We must try and administer the castigation vicariously.”
“Please, sir, I don’t understand you,” said Smith. “Do you mean—”
“Set a vicar to talk to them, Mr Smith? No, I do not. I mean, as we have very good information about three or four piratical junks being in the straits between here and Amoy, we must come down heavily upon them, and administer the punishment there.”
Mr Reardon nodded, and rubbed his hands.
“This scrape of yours, though, will be a most severe lesson to me,” continued the captain. “It was very weak and easy of me to give you all leave for a run ashore. I ought to have referred you to Mr Reardon. But you may take it for granted that I shall not err again in this way. You can return on deck.”
“Oh, what a jolly shame!” grumbled Barkins. “And there was old Reardon chuckling over it, and looking as pleased as Punch. Who’d be a middy? It’s like being in a floating prison.”
But it was a very pleasant floating prison all the same, I could not help thinking, as we gradually got farther out from the land, over which the sun was sinking fast, and lighting up the mountain-tops with gold, while the valleys rapidly grew dark. Every one on the clean white deck was full of eager excitement, and the look-out most thoroughly on thequi vive. For the news that we were going up northward in search of some piratical junks sent a thrill through every breast. It meant work, the showing that we were doing some good on the China station, and possibly prize-money, perhaps promotion for some on board, though of course not for us.
We had been upon the station several months, but it had not been our good fortune to capture any of the piratical scoundrels about whose doings the merchants—Chinese as well as European—were loud in complaint. And with justice, for several cruel massacres of crews had taken place before the ships had been scuttled and burned; besides, quite a dozen had sailed from port never to be heard of more; while the only consolation Captain Thwaites had for his trips here and there, and pursuit of enemies who disappeared like Flying Dutchmen, was that the presence of our gunboat upon the coast no doubt acted as a preventative, for we were told that there used to be three times as many acts of piracy before we came.
And now, as we glided along full sail before a pleasant breeze, with the topgallant sails ruddy in the evening light, there seemed at last some prospect of real business, for it had leaked out that unless Captain Thwaites’ information was very delusive, the Chinamen had quite a rendezvous on one of the most out-of-the-way islands off Formosa, from whence they issued, looking like ordinary trading-boats, and that it was due to this nest alone that so much mischief had been done.
A good meal down below, without dog or rat, as Barkins put it, had, in addition to a comfortable wash and change, made us forget a good deal of our weariness; and, as we were still off duty, we three loitered about the deck, picking up all the information we could regarding the way in which the news had been brought, in exchange for accounts of our own adventures, to insure credence in which Barkins carried about the nearly-divided telescope which had stood us in such good stead.
It was rapidly growing dark, when, close under the bulwarks, and in very near neighbourhood to one of our big bow guns, we came upon what looked in the gloom like a heap of clothes.
“What’s that?” I said.
“Chine-he, sir,” said one of the sailors. “We give him a good tuck-out below, and he come up then for a snooze. Hi, John! The gents want to speak to you.”
There was a quick movement, and a partly bald head appeared from beneath two loose sleeves, which had been folded over it like the wings of a flying fox, and Ching’s familiar squeaky voice said—
“You wantee me. Go shore?”
“No, no; not to-night,” cried Smith. “We shall set you ashore when we come back.”
“You go velly far—allee way Gleat Blitain?”
“No, not this time, Ching,” cried Barkins, as we all laughed.
“No go allee way London? Ching wantee go London, see Queen Victolia and Plince o’ Wales.”
“Some other time, Ching,” I said. “But I say, how about the fancy shop?”
“Allee light. Ching go back.”
“And how are you after our fight to-day?”
“Velly angly. Allee muchee quite ’shame of mandalin men. Big lascal, evely one.”
“So they are,” said Barkins. “But I say, Ching, are you a good sailor?”
The Chinaman shook his head.
“Ching velly good man, keep fancee shop. Ching not sailor.”
“He means, can you go to sea without being sick?” I said, laughing.
He gave us a comical look.
“Don’tee know. Velly nicee now. Big offlicer say jolly sailor take gleat care Ching, and give hammock go to sleep. You got banjo, music—git-tar?”
“One of the chaps has got one,” said Smith. “Why?”
“You fetchee for Ching. I play, sing—‘ti-ope-I-ow’ for captain and jolly sailor. Makee Ching velly happy, and no makee sea-sick like coolie in big boat.”
“Not to-night, Ching,” said Barkins decisively. “Come along, lads. I’m afraid,” he continued, as we strolled right forward, “that some of us would soon be pretty sick of it if he did begin that precious howling. But I say, we ought to look after him well, poor old chap; it’s precious rough on him to be taken out to sea like this.”
“Yes,” I said; “and he behaved like a trump to us to-day.”
“That he did,” assented Smith, as all three rested our arms on the rail, and looked at the twinkling distant lights of the shore.
“You give Ching flee dollar,” said a voice close behind us, and we started round, to find that the object of our conversation had come up silently in his thick, softly-soled boots, in which his tight black trouser bottoms were tucked.
“Three dollars!” cried Smith; “what for?”
“Say all give Ching dollar show way.”
“So we did,” cried Barkins. “I’d forgotten all about it.”
“So had I.”
“But you got us nearly killed,” protested Smith.
“That was all in the bargain,” cried Barkins. “Well, I say he came out well, and I shall give him two dollars, though I am getting precious short.”
“Flee dollar,” said Ching firmly. Then, shaking his head, he counted upon his fingers, “One, two, flee.”
“It’s all right, Ching,” I said. “Two dollars apiece. Come on, Blacksmith.” I took out my two dollars. “Come, Tanner.”
“No, no,” cried Ching; “tanner tickpence; two dollar tickpence won’t do. Flee dollar.”
“It’s all right,” I said, and I held out my hand for my messmates’ contributions, afterward placing the six dollars in the Chinaman’s hand.
His long-nailed fingers closed over the double amount, and he looked from one to the other as if he did not comprehend. Then he unwillingly divided the sum.
“No light,” he said. “Flee dollar.”
“The other for the fight,” I said, feeling pleased to have met a Chinaman who was not dishonest and grasping.
“You wantee ’nother fight morrow?” he said, looking at me sharply. “Don’t know. Not aflaid.”
“No, no; you don’t understand,” I cried, laughing. “We give you six dollars instead of three.”
Ching nodded, and the silver money disappeared up his sleeve. Then his body writhed a little, and the arm and hand appeared again in the loose sleeve.
“Sailor boy ’teal Ching dollar?”
“Oh no,” I said confidently.
“No pullee tail?”
“Ah, that I can’t answer for,” I said. “Twist it up tightly.”
“To be sure,” said Barkins. “It don’t do to put temptation in the poor fellows’ way. I’m afraid,” he continued, “that if I saw that hanging out of a hammock I should be obliged to have a tug.”
Ching nodded, and stole away again into the darkness, for night had fallen now, and we were beginning to feel the waves dancing under us.
An hour later I was in my cot fast asleep, and dreaming of fierce-looking Chinamen in showy-patterned coats making cuts at me with big swords, which were too blunt to cut, but which gave me plenty of pain, and this continued more or less all night. In the morning I knew the reason why, my left side was severely bruised, and for the next few days I could not move about without a reminder of the terrible cut the mandarin’s retainer had made at me with his sword.
Chapter Five.Ching has Ideas.Week had passed, during which we had cruised here and there, in the hope of falling in with the pirates. Once in the right waters, it did not much signify which course we took, for we were as likely to come across them sailing north as south. So our coal was saved, and we kept steadily along under canvas.But fortune seemed to be still against us, and though we boarded junk after junk, there was not one of which the slightest suspicion could be entertained; and their masters, as soon as they realised what our mission was, were only too eager to afford us every information they could.Unfortunately, they could give us none of any value. They could only tell us about divers acts of horrible cruelty committed here and there within the past few months, but could not point out where the pirates were likely to be found.Ching, in spite of some rough weather, had never been obliged to leave the deck, and had proved to be so valuable an acquisition, that he was informed that he would have a certain rate of pay as interpreter while he stayed on board; and as soon as he was made aware of this, he strutted up to me and told me the news.“Captain makee interpleter and have lot dollar. Muchee better keepee fancee shop.”This was after, at my suggestion to Mr Reardon, he had been sent out in one of the boats to board a big junk, and from that time it became a matter of course that when a boat was piped away, Ching’s pigtail was seen flying out nearly horizontally in his eagerness to be first in the stern-sheets.But it was always the same. The boat came back with Ching looking disappointed, and his yellow forehead ploughed with parallel lines.“Ching know,” he said to me one evening mysteriously.“Know what?” I said.“Plenty pilate boat hide away in island. No come while big shipTeaslerhere.”“Oh, wait a bit,” I said; “we shall catch them yet.”“No, catchee,” he said despondently. “Pilate velly cunning. See Queen Victolia ship say big gun go bang. ’Top away.”“But where do you think they hide?”“Evelywhere,” he said. “Plentee liver, plenty cleek, plenty hide away.”“Then we shall never catch them?” I said.“Ching wantee catchee, wantee plenty money; but pilate won’t come. Pilate ’flaid.”“And I suppose, as soon as we go away, they’ll come out and attack the first merchantman that comes along the coast.”“Yes,” said Ching coolly; “cut allee boy float, settee fire junk, burnee ship.”“Then what’s to be done?” I said. “It’s very disappointing.”“Ching go back fancee shop; no catchee pilate, no plize-money.”“Oh, but we shall drop upon them some day.”“No dlop upon pilate. Ching not captain. Ching catchee.”“How?” I said.“Take big ship back to liver. Put big gun, put jolly sailor ’board two big junk, and go sail ’bout. Pilate come thinkee catchee plenty silk, plenty tea. Come aboard junk. Jolly sailor chop head off, and no more pilate.”“That sounds well, Ching,” I said; “but I don’t think we could do that.”“No catchee pilate?” he said. “Ching velly tire. No good, velly hungry; wantee go back fancee shop.”I thought a good deal about what the Chinaman had said, for it was weary, dispiriting work this overhauling every vessel we saw that seemed likely to be our enemy. It was dangerous work, too, for the narrow sea was foul with reefs; but our information had been that it was in the neighbourhood of the many islands off Formosa that the piratical junks had their nest, and the risk had to be run for the sake of the possible capture to be made.“Ching says he wants to get back to the fancee shop,” sad Smith one morning. “So do I, for I’m sick of this dreary work. Why, I’d rather have another of our days ashore.”“Not you,” I said. “But I say, look here, I haven’t spoke about it before, but Ching says—hi, Tanner, come here!”“That he doesn’t,” cried Smith.“Hallo! what is it?” said Barkins, whom I had hailed, and he came over from the port side of the deck.“I was going to tell Blacksmith what Ching says. You may as well hear too.”“Don’t want to. I know.”“What! has he been saying to you—”“No, not again.”“What did he say?”“Ti-ope-I-ow!” cried Barkins, imitating the Chinaman’s high falsetto, and then striking imaginary strings of a guitar-like instrument. “Peng—peng-peng.”“I say, don’t fool,” I cried angrily.“Gnat!” said Barkins sharply, “you’re a miserably-impudent little scrub of a skeeter, and presume upon your size to say insolent things to your elders.”“No, I don’t,” I said shortly.“Yes, you do, sir. You called me a fool just now.”“I didn’t.”“If you contradict me, I’ll punch your miserable little head, sir. No, I won’t, I’ll make Blacksmith do it; his fists are a size smaller than mine.”“Be quiet, Tanner!” cried Smith; “he knows something. Now, then, Gnat: what does Ching say?”“That we shall never catch the pirates, because they won’t come out when the gunboat is here.”“Well, there’s something in that. Tell Mr Reardon.”“Is it worth while? He says we ought to arm a couple of junks, and wait for the pirates to come out and attack us.”“Ching’s Christian name ought to be Solomon,” said Smith.“Thanky wisdom teeth,” said Barkins sarcastically. “I say, Gnat, he’s quite right. They’d be fools if they did come out to be sunk. I daresay they’re watching us all the time somewhere or other from one of the little fishing-boats we see put out.”“Well, young gentlemen,” said a sharp voice behind us; “this is contrary to dishipline. You can find something better to do than gossiping.”“Beg pardon, sir, we are not gossiping,” said Barkins. “We were discussing the point.”“Oh, indeed,” said the first lieutenant sarcastically; “then have the goodness to—”Barkins saw breakers ahead, and hastened to say—“The Chinaman says, sir—”“Don’t tell me what the Chinaman says, sir!” cried the lieutenant fiercely.“But it was about the pirates, sir.”“Eh? What?” cried our superior officer, suddenly changing his tone. “Has he some idea?”“Yes, sir. No, sir.”“Mr Barkins! What do you mean, sir?”“He thinks we shall never catch them, sir,” stammered my messmate, who could see punishment writ large in the lieutenant’s face.“Confound the Chinaman, sir!” roared the lieutenant. “So do I; so does Captain Thwaites.”He spoke so loudly that this gentleman heard him from where he was slowly marching up and down, talking to the marine officer, and he turned and came towards us.“In trouble, young gentlemen?” he said quietly. “Pray what does Captain Thwaites?” he added, turning to the chief officer.“I beg your pardon, sir. I was a little exasperated. These young gentlemen, upon my reproving them for idling, have hatched up a cock-and-bull story—at least Mr Barkins has.”“I beg pardon, sir; it was not a—not a—not a—”“Cock-and-bull story, Mr Herrick,” said the captain, smiling at my confusion, for I had rushed into the gap. “Then pray what was it?”I told him all that Ching had said, and the captain nodded his head again and again as I went on.“Yes,” he said at last, “I’m afraid he is right, Reardon. It is worth thinking about. What do you say to my sending you and Mr Brooke in a couple of junks?”They walked off together, and we heard no more.“Oh, how I should like to punch old Dishy’s head!” said Barkins between his teeth.“Don’t take any notice,” said Smith; “it’s only because he can’t get a chance to sink a pirate. I don’t believe there’s one anywhere about the blessed coast.”“Sail ho!” cried the man at the mast-head, and all was excitement on the instant, for after all the strange sail might prove to be a pirate.“Away on the weather bow, sir, under the land!” cried the man in answer to hails from the deck; and then, before glasses could be adjusted and brought to bear, he shouted—“She’s ashore, sir—a barque—fore—topmast gone, and—she’s afire.”TheTeaser’scourse was altered directly, and, helped by a favouring breeze, we ran down rapidly towards the wreck, which proved to be sending up a thin column of smoke, and soon after this was visible from the deck.
Week had passed, during which we had cruised here and there, in the hope of falling in with the pirates. Once in the right waters, it did not much signify which course we took, for we were as likely to come across them sailing north as south. So our coal was saved, and we kept steadily along under canvas.
But fortune seemed to be still against us, and though we boarded junk after junk, there was not one of which the slightest suspicion could be entertained; and their masters, as soon as they realised what our mission was, were only too eager to afford us every information they could.
Unfortunately, they could give us none of any value. They could only tell us about divers acts of horrible cruelty committed here and there within the past few months, but could not point out where the pirates were likely to be found.
Ching, in spite of some rough weather, had never been obliged to leave the deck, and had proved to be so valuable an acquisition, that he was informed that he would have a certain rate of pay as interpreter while he stayed on board; and as soon as he was made aware of this, he strutted up to me and told me the news.
“Captain makee interpleter and have lot dollar. Muchee better keepee fancee shop.”
This was after, at my suggestion to Mr Reardon, he had been sent out in one of the boats to board a big junk, and from that time it became a matter of course that when a boat was piped away, Ching’s pigtail was seen flying out nearly horizontally in his eagerness to be first in the stern-sheets.
But it was always the same. The boat came back with Ching looking disappointed, and his yellow forehead ploughed with parallel lines.
“Ching know,” he said to me one evening mysteriously.
“Know what?” I said.
“Plenty pilate boat hide away in island. No come while big shipTeaslerhere.”
“Oh, wait a bit,” I said; “we shall catch them yet.”
“No, catchee,” he said despondently. “Pilate velly cunning. See Queen Victolia ship say big gun go bang. ’Top away.”
“But where do you think they hide?”
“Evelywhere,” he said. “Plentee liver, plenty cleek, plenty hide away.”
“Then we shall never catch them?” I said.
“Ching wantee catchee, wantee plenty money; but pilate won’t come. Pilate ’flaid.”
“And I suppose, as soon as we go away, they’ll come out and attack the first merchantman that comes along the coast.”
“Yes,” said Ching coolly; “cut allee boy float, settee fire junk, burnee ship.”
“Then what’s to be done?” I said. “It’s very disappointing.”
“Ching go back fancee shop; no catchee pilate, no plize-money.”
“Oh, but we shall drop upon them some day.”
“No dlop upon pilate. Ching not captain. Ching catchee.”
“How?” I said.
“Take big ship back to liver. Put big gun, put jolly sailor ’board two big junk, and go sail ’bout. Pilate come thinkee catchee plenty silk, plenty tea. Come aboard junk. Jolly sailor chop head off, and no more pilate.”
“That sounds well, Ching,” I said; “but I don’t think we could do that.”
“No catchee pilate?” he said. “Ching velly tire. No good, velly hungry; wantee go back fancee shop.”
I thought a good deal about what the Chinaman had said, for it was weary, dispiriting work this overhauling every vessel we saw that seemed likely to be our enemy. It was dangerous work, too, for the narrow sea was foul with reefs; but our information had been that it was in the neighbourhood of the many islands off Formosa that the piratical junks had their nest, and the risk had to be run for the sake of the possible capture to be made.
“Ching says he wants to get back to the fancee shop,” sad Smith one morning. “So do I, for I’m sick of this dreary work. Why, I’d rather have another of our days ashore.”
“Not you,” I said. “But I say, look here, I haven’t spoke about it before, but Ching says—hi, Tanner, come here!”
“That he doesn’t,” cried Smith.
“Hallo! what is it?” said Barkins, whom I had hailed, and he came over from the port side of the deck.
“I was going to tell Blacksmith what Ching says. You may as well hear too.”
“Don’t want to. I know.”
“What! has he been saying to you—”
“No, not again.”
“What did he say?”
“Ti-ope-I-ow!” cried Barkins, imitating the Chinaman’s high falsetto, and then striking imaginary strings of a guitar-like instrument. “Peng—peng-peng.”
“I say, don’t fool,” I cried angrily.
“Gnat!” said Barkins sharply, “you’re a miserably-impudent little scrub of a skeeter, and presume upon your size to say insolent things to your elders.”
“No, I don’t,” I said shortly.
“Yes, you do, sir. You called me a fool just now.”
“I didn’t.”
“If you contradict me, I’ll punch your miserable little head, sir. No, I won’t, I’ll make Blacksmith do it; his fists are a size smaller than mine.”
“Be quiet, Tanner!” cried Smith; “he knows something. Now, then, Gnat: what does Ching say?”
“That we shall never catch the pirates, because they won’t come out when the gunboat is here.”
“Well, there’s something in that. Tell Mr Reardon.”
“Is it worth while? He says we ought to arm a couple of junks, and wait for the pirates to come out and attack us.”
“Ching’s Christian name ought to be Solomon,” said Smith.
“Thanky wisdom teeth,” said Barkins sarcastically. “I say, Gnat, he’s quite right. They’d be fools if they did come out to be sunk. I daresay they’re watching us all the time somewhere or other from one of the little fishing-boats we see put out.”
“Well, young gentlemen,” said a sharp voice behind us; “this is contrary to dishipline. You can find something better to do than gossiping.”
“Beg pardon, sir, we are not gossiping,” said Barkins. “We were discussing the point.”
“Oh, indeed,” said the first lieutenant sarcastically; “then have the goodness to—”
Barkins saw breakers ahead, and hastened to say—
“The Chinaman says, sir—”
“Don’t tell me what the Chinaman says, sir!” cried the lieutenant fiercely.
“But it was about the pirates, sir.”
“Eh? What?” cried our superior officer, suddenly changing his tone. “Has he some idea?”
“Yes, sir. No, sir.”
“Mr Barkins! What do you mean, sir?”
“He thinks we shall never catch them, sir,” stammered my messmate, who could see punishment writ large in the lieutenant’s face.
“Confound the Chinaman, sir!” roared the lieutenant. “So do I; so does Captain Thwaites.”
He spoke so loudly that this gentleman heard him from where he was slowly marching up and down, talking to the marine officer, and he turned and came towards us.
“In trouble, young gentlemen?” he said quietly. “Pray what does Captain Thwaites?” he added, turning to the chief officer.
“I beg your pardon, sir. I was a little exasperated. These young gentlemen, upon my reproving them for idling, have hatched up a cock-and-bull story—at least Mr Barkins has.”
“I beg pardon, sir; it was not a—not a—not a—”
“Cock-and-bull story, Mr Herrick,” said the captain, smiling at my confusion, for I had rushed into the gap. “Then pray what was it?”
I told him all that Ching had said, and the captain nodded his head again and again as I went on.
“Yes,” he said at last, “I’m afraid he is right, Reardon. It is worth thinking about. What do you say to my sending you and Mr Brooke in a couple of junks?”
They walked off together, and we heard no more.
“Oh, how I should like to punch old Dishy’s head!” said Barkins between his teeth.
“Don’t take any notice,” said Smith; “it’s only because he can’t get a chance to sink a pirate. I don’t believe there’s one anywhere about the blessed coast.”
“Sail ho!” cried the man at the mast-head, and all was excitement on the instant, for after all the strange sail might prove to be a pirate.
“Away on the weather bow, sir, under the land!” cried the man in answer to hails from the deck; and then, before glasses could be adjusted and brought to bear, he shouted—
“She’s ashore, sir—a barque—fore—topmast gone, and—she’s afire.”
TheTeaser’scourse was altered directly, and, helped by a favouring breeze, we ran down rapidly towards the wreck, which proved to be sending up a thin column of smoke, and soon after this was visible from the deck.
Chapter Six.My First Horror.I was in a great state of excitement, and stood watching the vessel through my spyglass, longing for the distance to be got over and what promised to be a mystery examined. For a wreck was possible and a fire at sea equally so, but a ship ashore and burning seemed to be such an anomaly that the officers all looked as if they felt that we were on the high road to something exciting at last.In fact, we had been so long on the station for the purpose of checking piracy, but doing nothing save overhaul inoffensive junks, that we were all heartily sick of our task. For it was not, as Smith said, as if we were always in some port where we could study the manners and customs of the Chinese, but for ever knocking about wild-goose chasing and never getting a goose.“Plenty on board,” cried Barkins. “I say, Gnat, isn’t he a humbug? Ha, ha! Study the manners and customs! Stuffing himself with Chinese sweets and hankering after puppy-pie, like the bargees on the Thames.”“Oh, does he?” cried Smith. “Who ate the fricassee of rats?”“Oh, bother all that!” I said. “Here, Blacksmith, lend me your glass a minute; it’s stronger than mine.”“Ho, ho!” laughed Barkins. “His! The wapping whacker! Why, it’s a miserable slopshop second-hand thing. You should have had mine. That was something like, before you spoiled it.”“Here you are,” said Smith, lending me his glass. “It’s worth a dozen of his old blunderbuss.”I took the glass and had a good long inspection of the large barque, which lay heeled over on the outlying reef of one of the many islands, and could distinctly see the fine curl of smoke rising up from the deck somewhere about the forecastle.“Make out any one on board, Mr Herrick?” said a sharp voice behind me, and I started round, to find that my companions had gone forward, and the first lieutenant was behind me with his spyglass under his arm and his face very eager and stern.“No, sir; not a soul.”“Nor signals?”“None.”“No more can I,” my lad. “Your eyes are younger and sharper than mine. Look again. Do the bulwarks seem shattered?”I took a long look.“No, sir,” I said. “Everything seems quite right except the fore-topmast, which has snapped off, and is hanging in a tangle down to the deck.”“But the fire?”“That only looks, sir, as if they’d got a stove in the forecastle, and had just lit the fire with plenty of smoky coal.”“Hah! That’s all I can make out. We’ve come to something at last, Mr Herrick.”“Think so, sir?” I said respectfully.“Sure of it, my lad;” and he walked off to join the captain, while just then Ching came up softly and pointed forward.“Big ship,” he said. “Pilate; all afire.”“Think so?”Ching nodded.“Hallo, Gnat, what does the first luff say?” asked Barkins, who joined us then.“Thinks it’s a vessel cast ashore by the pirates.”“Maybe. I should say it’s one got on the reef from bad seamanship.”“And want of a Tanner on board to set them right,” said Smith.“Skipper’s coming,” whispered Barkins; and we separated.For the next hour all was eager watchfulness on board, as we approached very slowly, shortening sail, and with two menin the chains heaving the lead on account of the hidden reefs and shoals off some of the islands. But, as we approached, nothing more could be made out till the man aloft hailed the deck, and announced that he could read the name on the stern,Dunstaffnage, Glasgow. Another hour passed, during which the island, a couple of miles beyond, was swept by glass after glass, and tree and hill examined, but there was no sign of signal on tree or hill. All was bare, chilly, and repellent there, and we felt that the crew of the vessel could not have taken refuge ashore.At last the crew of a boat was piped away, and, as I was gazing longingly at the men getting in under the command of Mr Brooke, a quiet, gentlemanly fellow, our junior lieutenant, Mr Reardon said, as he caught my eye—“Yes; go.”I did not wait for a second order, you may be sure, but sprang in, and as theTeaserwas thrown up in the wind with her sails flapping, it being deemed unsafe to go any nearer to the barque, the little wheels chirrupped, and down we went, to sit the next moment lightly upon a good-sized wave which rose up as if to receive us; the falls were cast off, the oars dropped, and the next minute we glided away towards the stranded vessel.“Quite a treat to get a bit of an adventure, eh Herrick?” said Mr Brooke.“Yes, sir. Been slow enough lately.”“Oh, you need not grumble, my lad. You did have one good adventure. By the way, how are your sore ribs?”“My ribs, sir? Oh, I had forgotten all about them. But do you think this is the work of pirates, or that the ship has run ashore?”“I’m not sure, my lad, but we shall soon know.”We sat watching the fine well-built barque, as the men pulled lustily at their oars, making the water flash and the distance grow shorter. Then all at once my companion said shortly—“Pirates.”“Where, where?” I said eagerly, and my hand went to my dirk.Mr Brooke laughed, and I saw all the men showing their teeth.“No, no, my lad,” he said. “I meant this was the work of pirates.”“How do you know, sir?”“Look at those ropes and sheets hanging loose. They have been cut. The barque has not been in a storm either. She has just gone on to the rocks and the fore-topmast evidently snapped with the shock.”“And the smoke? Is that from the forecastle?”He shook his head, and stood up in the boat, after handing me the lines, while he remained scanning the vessel attentively.“Hail her, Jones,” he said to the bowman; and the man jumped up, put his hands to his mouth, and roared out, “Ship ahoy!”This again and again, but all was silent; and a curious feeling of awe crept over me as I gazed at the barque lying there on the reef as if it were dead, while the column of smoke, which now looked much bigger, twisted and writhed as it rolled over and over up from just abaft the broken foremast.“Steady,” cried the lieutenant; “the water’s getting shoal. Keep a good look-out forward, Jones.”For all at once the water in front of us, from being smooth and oily, suddenly became agitated, and I saw that we had startled and were driving before us a shoal of good-sized fish, some of which, in their eagerness to escape, sprang out of the water and fell back with a splash.“Plenty yet, sir,” said the man in the bows, standing up now with the boat-hook. “Good fathom under us.”“Right. Steady, my lads.”We were only about a hundred yards from the barque now, and the water deepened again, showing that we had been crossing a reef; but the bottom was still visible, as I glanced once over the side, but only for a moment, for there was a peculiar saddening attraction about the silent ship, and I don’t know how it was, but I felt as if I was going to see something dreadful.Under the lieutenant’s directions, I steered the boat so that we glided round to the other side, passing under the stern, and then ran alongside, with the bulwarks hanging over towards us, and made out that the vessel had evidently been in fairly deep water close by, and had been run on to the rocks where two reefs met and closed-in a deep channel.How are we going to get on board? I asked myself, as I looked upward; but I was soon made aware of that, for right forward there was a quantity of the top-hamper of the broken mast with a couple of the square sails awash, so that there was no difficulty about scrambling up.“I don’t think there is any one on board, Herrick,” said Mr Brooke, “but sailors should always be on thequi vive. Stay in the boat, if you like.”“I don’t like, sir,” I said, as soon as he had given orders to four men to follow us, and the next minute we were climbing up to stand upon the deck.“No doubt about it,” said Mr Brooke through his teeth. “She has been plundered, and then left to drift ashore or to burn.”For there from the forehold curled up the pillar of smoke we had seen, and a dull crackling noise came up, telling that, though slowly, the fire was steadily burning.We could not see much below for the smoke, and Mr Brooke led the way forward to the forecastle hatch, which lay open.“Below! Any one there?” cried my officer, but all was silent as the grave.One of the men looked at him eagerly.“Yes, jump down.”The man lowered himself down into the dark forecastle, and made a quick inspection.“Any one there?”“No, sir. Place clear and the men’s kits all gone.”“Come up.”We went aft, to find the hatches all off and thrown about anyhow, while the cargo had been completely cleared out, save one chest of tea which had been broken and the contents had scattered.“No mistake about it, Herrick,” said Mr Brooke; and he went on to the after-hatch, which was also open and the lading gone.The next minute we were at the companion-way, and Mr Brooke hailed again, but all was still. Just then the man peering over my shoulder sniffed sharply like some animal.The sound sent a shudder through me, and Mr Brooke turned to the man sharply—“Why did you do that?”“Beg pardon, sir,” stammered the man; “I thought that—as if—there was—”He did not finish.“Come on,” said Mr Brooke sternly, while I shuddered again, and involuntarily my nostrils dilated as I inhaled the air, thinking the while of a butchered captain and officers lying about, but there was not the faintest odour, and I followed my officer, and then for a moment a horrible sickening sensation attacked me, and I shuddered.But it all passed off, and, myself again directly, I was gazing with the others at the many signs which told us as plainly as if it had been written, that the crew of the unfortunate barque had barricaded themselves in here and made a desperate resistance, for her broken doors lay splintered and full of the marks made by axes and heavy swords. The seats were broken; and bulkheads, cabin windows, and floor were horribly stained here and there with blood, now quite dry and black, but which, after it had been shed, had been smeared about and trampled over; and this in one place was horribly evident, for close up to the side, quite plain, there was the imprint of a bare foot—marked in blood—a great wide-toed foot, that could never have worn a shoe.“Rather horrid for you, Herrick,” said Mr Brooke in a low voice, as if the traces of death made him solemn; “but you must be a man now. Look, my lad, what the devils—the savage devils—have done with our poor Scotch brothers!”“Yes, I see,” I whispered; “they must have killed them all.”“But I mean this—there, I mean.”I looked at him wonderingly as he pointed to the floor, for I did not understand.The next moment, though, I grasped his meaning, and saw plainly enough what must have happened, for from where we stood to the open stern windows there were long parallel streaks, and I knew that, though they were partially trampled out by naked feet, as if they had been passed over dozens of times since, the savage wretches must have dragged their victims to the stern windows and thrust them out; any doubt thereon being cleared away by the state of the lockers and the sills of the lights.Just then a peculiar hissing sound came to my ears, and I faced round quickly, as did Mr Brooke, for I felt startled.For there behind me was one of our men—a fine handsome Yorkshire lad of three or four and twenty—standing glaring and showing his set teeth, and his eyes with the white slightly visible round the iris. His left fist was firmly clenched, and in his right was his bare cutlass, with the blade quivering in his strong hand.“Put up your cutlass, my lad,” said Mr Brooke sternly; and the man started and thrust it back. “Wait a bit—but I don’t know how I am to ask you to give quarter to the fiends who did all this. No wonder the place is so silent, Herrick,” he added bitterly. “Come away.”He led us out, but not before we had seen that the cabins had been completely stripped.We did not stay much longer, but our time was long enough to show us that everything of value had been taken, and nothing left in the way of log or papers to tell how the barque had fallen in with the wretches. The crew had probably been surprised, and after a desperate resistance, when driven back into the cabin, fought to the last with the results we had seen.“But surely they must have killed or wounded some of the pirates?” I said.“Possibly,” replied Mr Brooke; “but there has been rain since; perhaps a heavy sea, too, has washed over the deck and swept away all traces here. Let’s hope they made some of them pay dearly for their work.”A short inspection below showed that the barque’s planking was crushed in, and that she was hopelessly damaged, even if she could have been got off, so soon after Mr Brooke gave the word to return to the boat.“I shall not touch the fire,” he said. “If the captain has any wishes the boat can return. For my part I should say, let her burn.”The captain listened with his brow contracted to Mr Brooke’s recital, when we were back on board; I being close at hand, ready to answer a few questions as well.“Yes, let her burn,” said the captain; and then he turned his back to us, but seemed to recollect himself directly, for he turned again.“Thank you, Mr Brooke,” he said. “Very clear and concise. You could not have done better.”Then turning to the first lieutenant, he said in a low voice—“Reardon, I’m at my wit’s end. The wretches are too cunning for us. What are we to do?”
I was in a great state of excitement, and stood watching the vessel through my spyglass, longing for the distance to be got over and what promised to be a mystery examined. For a wreck was possible and a fire at sea equally so, but a ship ashore and burning seemed to be such an anomaly that the officers all looked as if they felt that we were on the high road to something exciting at last.
In fact, we had been so long on the station for the purpose of checking piracy, but doing nothing save overhaul inoffensive junks, that we were all heartily sick of our task. For it was not, as Smith said, as if we were always in some port where we could study the manners and customs of the Chinese, but for ever knocking about wild-goose chasing and never getting a goose.
“Plenty on board,” cried Barkins. “I say, Gnat, isn’t he a humbug? Ha, ha! Study the manners and customs! Stuffing himself with Chinese sweets and hankering after puppy-pie, like the bargees on the Thames.”
“Oh, does he?” cried Smith. “Who ate the fricassee of rats?”
“Oh, bother all that!” I said. “Here, Blacksmith, lend me your glass a minute; it’s stronger than mine.”
“Ho, ho!” laughed Barkins. “His! The wapping whacker! Why, it’s a miserable slopshop second-hand thing. You should have had mine. That was something like, before you spoiled it.”
“Here you are,” said Smith, lending me his glass. “It’s worth a dozen of his old blunderbuss.”
I took the glass and had a good long inspection of the large barque, which lay heeled over on the outlying reef of one of the many islands, and could distinctly see the fine curl of smoke rising up from the deck somewhere about the forecastle.
“Make out any one on board, Mr Herrick?” said a sharp voice behind me, and I started round, to find that my companions had gone forward, and the first lieutenant was behind me with his spyglass under his arm and his face very eager and stern.
“No, sir; not a soul.”
“Nor signals?”
“None.”
“No more can I,” my lad. “Your eyes are younger and sharper than mine. Look again. Do the bulwarks seem shattered?”
I took a long look.
“No, sir,” I said. “Everything seems quite right except the fore-topmast, which has snapped off, and is hanging in a tangle down to the deck.”
“But the fire?”
“That only looks, sir, as if they’d got a stove in the forecastle, and had just lit the fire with plenty of smoky coal.”
“Hah! That’s all I can make out. We’ve come to something at last, Mr Herrick.”
“Think so, sir?” I said respectfully.
“Sure of it, my lad;” and he walked off to join the captain, while just then Ching came up softly and pointed forward.
“Big ship,” he said. “Pilate; all afire.”
“Think so?”
Ching nodded.
“Hallo, Gnat, what does the first luff say?” asked Barkins, who joined us then.
“Thinks it’s a vessel cast ashore by the pirates.”
“Maybe. I should say it’s one got on the reef from bad seamanship.”
“And want of a Tanner on board to set them right,” said Smith.
“Skipper’s coming,” whispered Barkins; and we separated.
For the next hour all was eager watchfulness on board, as we approached very slowly, shortening sail, and with two menin the chains heaving the lead on account of the hidden reefs and shoals off some of the islands. But, as we approached, nothing more could be made out till the man aloft hailed the deck, and announced that he could read the name on the stern,Dunstaffnage, Glasgow. Another hour passed, during which the island, a couple of miles beyond, was swept by glass after glass, and tree and hill examined, but there was no sign of signal on tree or hill. All was bare, chilly, and repellent there, and we felt that the crew of the vessel could not have taken refuge ashore.
At last the crew of a boat was piped away, and, as I was gazing longingly at the men getting in under the command of Mr Brooke, a quiet, gentlemanly fellow, our junior lieutenant, Mr Reardon said, as he caught my eye—
“Yes; go.”
I did not wait for a second order, you may be sure, but sprang in, and as theTeaserwas thrown up in the wind with her sails flapping, it being deemed unsafe to go any nearer to the barque, the little wheels chirrupped, and down we went, to sit the next moment lightly upon a good-sized wave which rose up as if to receive us; the falls were cast off, the oars dropped, and the next minute we glided away towards the stranded vessel.
“Quite a treat to get a bit of an adventure, eh Herrick?” said Mr Brooke.
“Yes, sir. Been slow enough lately.”
“Oh, you need not grumble, my lad. You did have one good adventure. By the way, how are your sore ribs?”
“My ribs, sir? Oh, I had forgotten all about them. But do you think this is the work of pirates, or that the ship has run ashore?”
“I’m not sure, my lad, but we shall soon know.”
We sat watching the fine well-built barque, as the men pulled lustily at their oars, making the water flash and the distance grow shorter. Then all at once my companion said shortly—
“Pirates.”
“Where, where?” I said eagerly, and my hand went to my dirk.
Mr Brooke laughed, and I saw all the men showing their teeth.
“No, no, my lad,” he said. “I meant this was the work of pirates.”
“How do you know, sir?”
“Look at those ropes and sheets hanging loose. They have been cut. The barque has not been in a storm either. She has just gone on to the rocks and the fore-topmast evidently snapped with the shock.”
“And the smoke? Is that from the forecastle?”
He shook his head, and stood up in the boat, after handing me the lines, while he remained scanning the vessel attentively.
“Hail her, Jones,” he said to the bowman; and the man jumped up, put his hands to his mouth, and roared out, “Ship ahoy!”
This again and again, but all was silent; and a curious feeling of awe crept over me as I gazed at the barque lying there on the reef as if it were dead, while the column of smoke, which now looked much bigger, twisted and writhed as it rolled over and over up from just abaft the broken foremast.
“Steady,” cried the lieutenant; “the water’s getting shoal. Keep a good look-out forward, Jones.”
For all at once the water in front of us, from being smooth and oily, suddenly became agitated, and I saw that we had startled and were driving before us a shoal of good-sized fish, some of which, in their eagerness to escape, sprang out of the water and fell back with a splash.
“Plenty yet, sir,” said the man in the bows, standing up now with the boat-hook. “Good fathom under us.”
“Right. Steady, my lads.”
We were only about a hundred yards from the barque now, and the water deepened again, showing that we had been crossing a reef; but the bottom was still visible, as I glanced once over the side, but only for a moment, for there was a peculiar saddening attraction about the silent ship, and I don’t know how it was, but I felt as if I was going to see something dreadful.
Under the lieutenant’s directions, I steered the boat so that we glided round to the other side, passing under the stern, and then ran alongside, with the bulwarks hanging over towards us, and made out that the vessel had evidently been in fairly deep water close by, and had been run on to the rocks where two reefs met and closed-in a deep channel.
How are we going to get on board? I asked myself, as I looked upward; but I was soon made aware of that, for right forward there was a quantity of the top-hamper of the broken mast with a couple of the square sails awash, so that there was no difficulty about scrambling up.
“I don’t think there is any one on board, Herrick,” said Mr Brooke, “but sailors should always be on thequi vive. Stay in the boat, if you like.”
“I don’t like, sir,” I said, as soon as he had given orders to four men to follow us, and the next minute we were climbing up to stand upon the deck.
“No doubt about it,” said Mr Brooke through his teeth. “She has been plundered, and then left to drift ashore or to burn.”
For there from the forehold curled up the pillar of smoke we had seen, and a dull crackling noise came up, telling that, though slowly, the fire was steadily burning.
We could not see much below for the smoke, and Mr Brooke led the way forward to the forecastle hatch, which lay open.
“Below! Any one there?” cried my officer, but all was silent as the grave.
One of the men looked at him eagerly.
“Yes, jump down.”
The man lowered himself down into the dark forecastle, and made a quick inspection.
“Any one there?”
“No, sir. Place clear and the men’s kits all gone.”
“Come up.”
We went aft, to find the hatches all off and thrown about anyhow, while the cargo had been completely cleared out, save one chest of tea which had been broken and the contents had scattered.
“No mistake about it, Herrick,” said Mr Brooke; and he went on to the after-hatch, which was also open and the lading gone.
The next minute we were at the companion-way, and Mr Brooke hailed again, but all was still. Just then the man peering over my shoulder sniffed sharply like some animal.
The sound sent a shudder through me, and Mr Brooke turned to the man sharply—
“Why did you do that?”
“Beg pardon, sir,” stammered the man; “I thought that—as if—there was—”
He did not finish.
“Come on,” said Mr Brooke sternly, while I shuddered again, and involuntarily my nostrils dilated as I inhaled the air, thinking the while of a butchered captain and officers lying about, but there was not the faintest odour, and I followed my officer, and then for a moment a horrible sickening sensation attacked me, and I shuddered.
But it all passed off, and, myself again directly, I was gazing with the others at the many signs which told us as plainly as if it had been written, that the crew of the unfortunate barque had barricaded themselves in here and made a desperate resistance, for her broken doors lay splintered and full of the marks made by axes and heavy swords. The seats were broken; and bulkheads, cabin windows, and floor were horribly stained here and there with blood, now quite dry and black, but which, after it had been shed, had been smeared about and trampled over; and this in one place was horribly evident, for close up to the side, quite plain, there was the imprint of a bare foot—marked in blood—a great wide-toed foot, that could never have worn a shoe.
“Rather horrid for you, Herrick,” said Mr Brooke in a low voice, as if the traces of death made him solemn; “but you must be a man now. Look, my lad, what the devils—the savage devils—have done with our poor Scotch brothers!”
“Yes, I see,” I whispered; “they must have killed them all.”
“But I mean this—there, I mean.”
I looked at him wonderingly as he pointed to the floor, for I did not understand.
The next moment, though, I grasped his meaning, and saw plainly enough what must have happened, for from where we stood to the open stern windows there were long parallel streaks, and I knew that, though they were partially trampled out by naked feet, as if they had been passed over dozens of times since, the savage wretches must have dragged their victims to the stern windows and thrust them out; any doubt thereon being cleared away by the state of the lockers and the sills of the lights.
Just then a peculiar hissing sound came to my ears, and I faced round quickly, as did Mr Brooke, for I felt startled.
For there behind me was one of our men—a fine handsome Yorkshire lad of three or four and twenty—standing glaring and showing his set teeth, and his eyes with the white slightly visible round the iris. His left fist was firmly clenched, and in his right was his bare cutlass, with the blade quivering in his strong hand.
“Put up your cutlass, my lad,” said Mr Brooke sternly; and the man started and thrust it back. “Wait a bit—but I don’t know how I am to ask you to give quarter to the fiends who did all this. No wonder the place is so silent, Herrick,” he added bitterly. “Come away.”
He led us out, but not before we had seen that the cabins had been completely stripped.
We did not stay much longer, but our time was long enough to show us that everything of value had been taken, and nothing left in the way of log or papers to tell how the barque had fallen in with the wretches. The crew had probably been surprised, and after a desperate resistance, when driven back into the cabin, fought to the last with the results we had seen.
“But surely they must have killed or wounded some of the pirates?” I said.
“Possibly,” replied Mr Brooke; “but there has been rain since; perhaps a heavy sea, too, has washed over the deck and swept away all traces here. Let’s hope they made some of them pay dearly for their work.”
A short inspection below showed that the barque’s planking was crushed in, and that she was hopelessly damaged, even if she could have been got off, so soon after Mr Brooke gave the word to return to the boat.
“I shall not touch the fire,” he said. “If the captain has any wishes the boat can return. For my part I should say, let her burn.”
The captain listened with his brow contracted to Mr Brooke’s recital, when we were back on board; I being close at hand, ready to answer a few questions as well.
“Yes, let her burn,” said the captain; and then he turned his back to us, but seemed to recollect himself directly, for he turned again.
“Thank you, Mr Brooke,” he said. “Very clear and concise. You could not have done better.”
Then turning to the first lieutenant, he said in a low voice—
“Reardon, I’m at my wit’s end. The wretches are too cunning for us. What are we to do?”
Chapter Seven.Being Primed.There was a consultation in the cabin that evening, as we lay there about four miles from the stranded barque. It had fallen calm, and, as there was no urgency, the captain preferred to spare the coals, and we waited for a breeze.I heard afterwards from Mr Brooke all that took place during the discussion, during which the captain heard the principal officers’ opinions, and then decided what he would do.There had been doubts before as to whether we were on the right track for the pirates, who might be carrying on their murderous business elsewhere, but the day’s discovery had cleared away the last doubt; it was plain that the information which had sent us up in the neighbourhood of Amoy was perfectly correct, that the wretches were there, and that our presence had kept them quiet till now.The great difficulty, it was decided, lay in the manner of dealing with people who without doubt had plenty of spies out in native craft, who were passed unnoticed by us, and thus every movement was carefully conveyed to the enemy. As, then, the appearance of the gunboat was sufficient to keep them in hiding, and also as the moment we were out of sight the pirates issued from their lair, only two ways of dealing with the fiends remained to us, and these means, after due consultation, were to be adopted—one or both.Then it had been arranged that the next morning at daybreak a couple of boats were to be despatched to the Scotch barque, for a more thorough investigation as to whether, in Mr Brooke’s rather hurried visit, he had passed over any cargo worthy of salvage, and to collect material for a full report for the authorities and the owners.This had just been decided upon, when there was a shout from one of the look-out men. It was quite unnecessary, for nearly every one on deck saw the cause of the cry.We three companions had been watching the wreck with its spiral of smoke, which in the calm air rose up like the trunk of a tall tree, and then all at once spread out nearly flat to right and left, giving it quite the appearance of a gigantic cedar. Then, as one of the witnesses of the horrors on board, I had had to repeat my story again; and, while matters were being discussed below, we in a low tone had our debate on the question, and saw too how the men gathered in knots, and talked in whispers and watched the barque. And to us all one thing was evident, that could our lads only get a chance at the pigtailed, ruffianly scum of the east coast, it would go pretty hard with them.“I’ll bet many of ’em wouldn’t go pirating again in a hurry,” Barkins said; and we agreed.Then we fell to wondering how many poor creatures had been murdered by them in their bloodthirsty career, and why it was that there should be such indifference to death, and so horrible a love of cruelty and torture, in the Chinese character. All at once came the shout, and we were gazing at the cause.For a bright, clear burst of flame suddenly rose from the direction of the ship—not an explosion, but a fierce blaze—and it was evident that the parts around the little fire had grown more and more heated and dry, and that the smouldering had gone on till some part of the cargo beneath, of an inflammable nature, had caught at last, and was burning furiously.We expected that orders would be given for boats to be lowered, but we had drifted in the current so far away that there was a risky row amongst shoals, so no orders were given, the men gathering on deck to watch the light glow which lit up the cloud of smoke hovering overhead.We three watched it in silence for some time, with the other officers near, and at last Smith said—“I don’t think I’m a cruel sort of fellow, but I feel as if I should like to kill some one now.”He did not say a Chinese pirate, but he meant it; and I must confess to feeling something of the kind, for I thought how satisfactory it would be to aim one of our big guns at a pirate junk taken in some cruel act, and to send a shot between wind and water that would sink her and rid the seas of some of the fiends.I quite started the next moment, for Barkins said, in a low, thoughtful voice—“How do you feel about it, Gnat? Shouldn’t you like to kill some of ’em?”The question was so direct, and appealed to my feelings so strongly, that for some moments I was silent.“Not he,” said Smith; “old Gnat wouldn’t stick a pin in a cockroach.”“Of course I wouldn’t,” I said stoutly, “but I’d crush it under my foot if I found one in the cabin.”“One for you, Blacksmith,” said Barkins. “Look here, Gnat, you would like to kill some of the piratical beggars, wouldn’t you?”I remained silent again.“There,” said Smith, “I told you so. If we caught a lot, Gnat would give them a lecture, and tell them they had been very naughty, and that they mustn’t do so any more or he would be very angry with them indeed.”“Punch his head, Gnat.”I made no reply to their flippant remarks, for just then I felt very solemn and thoughtful. I hope I was not priggish. No, I am sure I was not; every word I uttered was too sincere, though they chaffed me afterwards, and I have thought since that they felt more seriously than they spoke.“You chaps didn’t go on board that barque,” I said quietly; “I did.”“Yes; old Dishy’s making a regular favourite of you, Gnat,” said Barkins.But I went on without heeding, my eyes fixed on the burning vessel whose flames shone brightly in the clear air.“And when I saw the splintered wood and chopped doorway, and the smears and marks of blood, it all seemed to come to me just as it must have been when the poor fellows shut themselves up in the cabin.”“Did they?” said Smith eagerly.“Yes, that was plain enough,” I said; “and they must have fought it out there till the pirates got the upper hand.”“I bet tuppence the beggars pitched stinkpots down through the cabin skylight, and half-smothered them,” said Barkins excitedly.“I daresay they did,” I replied thoughtfully, “for I did see one of the lockers all scorched and burned just by the deck. Yes, it all seemed to come to me, and I felt as if I could see all the fighting, with the Chinamen hacking and chopping at them with their long swords, the same as those brutes did at us; and all those poor fellows, who were quietly going about their business, homeward bound with their cargo, must have had friends, wives or mothers or children; and it gets horrible when you think of how they must have been in despair, knowing that those wretches would have no mercy on them.”“Yes, but how it must have made ’em fight,” cried Smith. “I think I could have done something at a time like that.”“Yes, it would make any fellow fight; even you, Gnat.”“I suppose so,” I said, “for it made me feel as if there wasn’t any room in the world for such people.”“There ain’t,” said Barkins. “Oh, if our chaps could only get a good go at ’em!”“And then I felt,” I went on, “as if it couldn’t all be real, and that it was impossible that there could be such wretches on the face of the earth, ready to kill people for the sake of a bit of plunder.”“But it’s just precious possible enough,” said Smith slowly. “Why, out here in China they do anything.”“Right,” said Barkins; “and I hope the skipper will pay them in their own coin. My! how she burns.”“Yes,” assented Smith, as the barque, after smouldering so long, now blazed, as if eager to clear away all traces of the horrible tragedy.“You’ll recollect all about that cabin, Gnat, if we do get at the beggars—won’t you?”“Recollect?” I said, with a shiver; “I shall never be able to forget it.”Then we relapsed into silence, and stood resting our arms over the bulwarks, gazing at the distant fire, in which I could picture plainly all the horrors and suggestions of the wrecked cabin. I even seemed to see the yellow-faced wretches, all smeared with blood, dragging their victims to the stern windows. And my imagination then ran riot for a time, as I fancied I saw them seizing men not half-dead, but making a feeble struggle for their lives, and begging in agonising tones for mercy, but only to be struck again, and pitched out into the sea.I fancy that I must have been growing half hysterical as the scene grew and grew before me, till I had pictured one poor wretch clinging in his despair to the edge of the stern window, and shrieking for help. There was a curious sensation as if a ball was rising in my throat to choke me, and I was forgetting where I stood, when I was brought back to myself by the voice of my messmate Smith, who said in a husky whisper—“Think we shall come across any of the poor fellows floating about?”“Not likely,” replied Barkins. “Too many sharks in these seas.”My throat felt dry at this horrible suggestion, but I knew how true it was. And then once more there was silence, and, like the rest—officers and men—we stood there watching the burning wreck hour after hour, not a soul on board feeling the slightest disposition to go below.It must have been quite a couple of hours later, when I started in the darkness, for something touched my arm, and, looking sharply to my right, I could just make out the figure of Ching close to me, while on looking in the other direction I found that I was alone, for Barkins and Smith had gone forward to a group close to the bows.“You, Ching?” I said, “looking at the mischief your friends have done?”“Fliends burnee ship? No fliends. Velly bad men. Ching feel allee shame. Velly bad men evelywhere. Killee, get dollar. No velly bad men, London?”“I’m afraid there are,” I said sadly.“Yes; velly bad men, London. Killee get dollar. You choppee off bad men head?”“No,” I said; “but they kill them if they commit murder.”“Commit murder? You mean killee get dollar?”“Yes.”“Allee light. Plenty bad men evelywhere. Captain going kill pilate?”“If we can catch them,” I said.“Yes, velly hard catchee catchee. Captain never catchee in ship. Pilate allee lun away. ’Flaid of big gun. Get two big junk, put plenty sailor boy where pilate can’t see. Then pilate come along kill and burnee. Junk steal all along. Jolly sailor jump up and cut allee pilate head off.”“Send that boy forward!” cried a stern voice, which made me jump again. “Who’s that?”“Herrick, sir,” I said, touching my cap, for the captain came forward out of the darkness.“Then you ought to know better, sir. The scoundrel has no business in this part of the ship. What does he want?”“I beg pardon, sir; he came up to propose a way of trapping the pirates.”“Eh, what?” said the captain eagerly. “Bah! absurd. Send him below; I hate to see the very face of a Chinaman. No; stop! He ought to know something of their tricks. What does he say?”I told him, and he stood there as if thinking.“Well, I don’t know, Mr Herrick. We might perhaps lure them out of their hiding-places in that way, with a couple of Chinese crews to work the junks. But no; the wretches would be equally strong, and would fight like rats. Too many of my poor lads would be cut down. They would have us at a terrible disadvantage. We must keep to the ship. I can only fight these wretches with guns.”He was turning away, when a thought struck me, and, forgetting my awe of the captain, and the fact that a proposal from a midshipman to such a magnate might be resented as an unheard-of piece of impertinence, I exclaimed excitedly—“I beg pardon, sir.”“Yes?”“I think I know how it could be done.”“Eh? You, Mr Herrick! Pooh! Stop,” he said sharply, as, feeling completely abashed, I was shrinking away, when he laid his hand kindly on my shoulder. “Let’s hear what you mean, my boy. The mouse did help the lion in the fable, didn’t he?”“Yes, sir.”“Not that I consider myself a lion, Mr Herrick,” he said good-humouredly, “and I will not insult you by calling you a mouse; but these Chinese fiends are too much for me, and I really am caught in the net. Here, send that man forward, and come into my cabin.”“Ching, go right up to the forecastle,” I said.“No wantee go s’eep,” he said angrily. “Makee Ching bad see ship burned.”“Never mind now; go and wait,” I whispered; and he nodded and went off, while I walked hurriedly back to the captain, who led the way to his cabin.Before I had gone many steps I had to pass Smith, who came quickly up to me.“Hallo! old chap,” he whispered, “what have you been up to now? Wigging from the skipper? I’ll go and tell the Tanner, and we’ll get clean handkerchiefs for a good cry.”
There was a consultation in the cabin that evening, as we lay there about four miles from the stranded barque. It had fallen calm, and, as there was no urgency, the captain preferred to spare the coals, and we waited for a breeze.
I heard afterwards from Mr Brooke all that took place during the discussion, during which the captain heard the principal officers’ opinions, and then decided what he would do.
There had been doubts before as to whether we were on the right track for the pirates, who might be carrying on their murderous business elsewhere, but the day’s discovery had cleared away the last doubt; it was plain that the information which had sent us up in the neighbourhood of Amoy was perfectly correct, that the wretches were there, and that our presence had kept them quiet till now.
The great difficulty, it was decided, lay in the manner of dealing with people who without doubt had plenty of spies out in native craft, who were passed unnoticed by us, and thus every movement was carefully conveyed to the enemy. As, then, the appearance of the gunboat was sufficient to keep them in hiding, and also as the moment we were out of sight the pirates issued from their lair, only two ways of dealing with the fiends remained to us, and these means, after due consultation, were to be adopted—one or both.
Then it had been arranged that the next morning at daybreak a couple of boats were to be despatched to the Scotch barque, for a more thorough investigation as to whether, in Mr Brooke’s rather hurried visit, he had passed over any cargo worthy of salvage, and to collect material for a full report for the authorities and the owners.
This had just been decided upon, when there was a shout from one of the look-out men. It was quite unnecessary, for nearly every one on deck saw the cause of the cry.
We three companions had been watching the wreck with its spiral of smoke, which in the calm air rose up like the trunk of a tall tree, and then all at once spread out nearly flat to right and left, giving it quite the appearance of a gigantic cedar. Then, as one of the witnesses of the horrors on board, I had had to repeat my story again; and, while matters were being discussed below, we in a low tone had our debate on the question, and saw too how the men gathered in knots, and talked in whispers and watched the barque. And to us all one thing was evident, that could our lads only get a chance at the pigtailed, ruffianly scum of the east coast, it would go pretty hard with them.
“I’ll bet many of ’em wouldn’t go pirating again in a hurry,” Barkins said; and we agreed.
Then we fell to wondering how many poor creatures had been murdered by them in their bloodthirsty career, and why it was that there should be such indifference to death, and so horrible a love of cruelty and torture, in the Chinese character. All at once came the shout, and we were gazing at the cause.
For a bright, clear burst of flame suddenly rose from the direction of the ship—not an explosion, but a fierce blaze—and it was evident that the parts around the little fire had grown more and more heated and dry, and that the smouldering had gone on till some part of the cargo beneath, of an inflammable nature, had caught at last, and was burning furiously.
We expected that orders would be given for boats to be lowered, but we had drifted in the current so far away that there was a risky row amongst shoals, so no orders were given, the men gathering on deck to watch the light glow which lit up the cloud of smoke hovering overhead.
We three watched it in silence for some time, with the other officers near, and at last Smith said—
“I don’t think I’m a cruel sort of fellow, but I feel as if I should like to kill some one now.”
He did not say a Chinese pirate, but he meant it; and I must confess to feeling something of the kind, for I thought how satisfactory it would be to aim one of our big guns at a pirate junk taken in some cruel act, and to send a shot between wind and water that would sink her and rid the seas of some of the fiends.
I quite started the next moment, for Barkins said, in a low, thoughtful voice—
“How do you feel about it, Gnat? Shouldn’t you like to kill some of ’em?”
The question was so direct, and appealed to my feelings so strongly, that for some moments I was silent.
“Not he,” said Smith; “old Gnat wouldn’t stick a pin in a cockroach.”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” I said stoutly, “but I’d crush it under my foot if I found one in the cabin.”
“One for you, Blacksmith,” said Barkins. “Look here, Gnat, you would like to kill some of the piratical beggars, wouldn’t you?”
I remained silent again.
“There,” said Smith, “I told you so. If we caught a lot, Gnat would give them a lecture, and tell them they had been very naughty, and that they mustn’t do so any more or he would be very angry with them indeed.”
“Punch his head, Gnat.”
I made no reply to their flippant remarks, for just then I felt very solemn and thoughtful. I hope I was not priggish. No, I am sure I was not; every word I uttered was too sincere, though they chaffed me afterwards, and I have thought since that they felt more seriously than they spoke.
“You chaps didn’t go on board that barque,” I said quietly; “I did.”
“Yes; old Dishy’s making a regular favourite of you, Gnat,” said Barkins.
But I went on without heeding, my eyes fixed on the burning vessel whose flames shone brightly in the clear air.
“And when I saw the splintered wood and chopped doorway, and the smears and marks of blood, it all seemed to come to me just as it must have been when the poor fellows shut themselves up in the cabin.”
“Did they?” said Smith eagerly.
“Yes, that was plain enough,” I said; “and they must have fought it out there till the pirates got the upper hand.”
“I bet tuppence the beggars pitched stinkpots down through the cabin skylight, and half-smothered them,” said Barkins excitedly.
“I daresay they did,” I replied thoughtfully, “for I did see one of the lockers all scorched and burned just by the deck. Yes, it all seemed to come to me, and I felt as if I could see all the fighting, with the Chinamen hacking and chopping at them with their long swords, the same as those brutes did at us; and all those poor fellows, who were quietly going about their business, homeward bound with their cargo, must have had friends, wives or mothers or children; and it gets horrible when you think of how they must have been in despair, knowing that those wretches would have no mercy on them.”
“Yes, but how it must have made ’em fight,” cried Smith. “I think I could have done something at a time like that.”
“Yes, it would make any fellow fight; even you, Gnat.”
“I suppose so,” I said, “for it made me feel as if there wasn’t any room in the world for such people.”
“There ain’t,” said Barkins. “Oh, if our chaps could only get a good go at ’em!”
“And then I felt,” I went on, “as if it couldn’t all be real, and that it was impossible that there could be such wretches on the face of the earth, ready to kill people for the sake of a bit of plunder.”
“But it’s just precious possible enough,” said Smith slowly. “Why, out here in China they do anything.”
“Right,” said Barkins; “and I hope the skipper will pay them in their own coin. My! how she burns.”
“Yes,” assented Smith, as the barque, after smouldering so long, now blazed, as if eager to clear away all traces of the horrible tragedy.
“You’ll recollect all about that cabin, Gnat, if we do get at the beggars—won’t you?”
“Recollect?” I said, with a shiver; “I shall never be able to forget it.”
Then we relapsed into silence, and stood resting our arms over the bulwarks, gazing at the distant fire, in which I could picture plainly all the horrors and suggestions of the wrecked cabin. I even seemed to see the yellow-faced wretches, all smeared with blood, dragging their victims to the stern windows. And my imagination then ran riot for a time, as I fancied I saw them seizing men not half-dead, but making a feeble struggle for their lives, and begging in agonising tones for mercy, but only to be struck again, and pitched out into the sea.
I fancy that I must have been growing half hysterical as the scene grew and grew before me, till I had pictured one poor wretch clinging in his despair to the edge of the stern window, and shrieking for help. There was a curious sensation as if a ball was rising in my throat to choke me, and I was forgetting where I stood, when I was brought back to myself by the voice of my messmate Smith, who said in a husky whisper—
“Think we shall come across any of the poor fellows floating about?”
“Not likely,” replied Barkins. “Too many sharks in these seas.”
My throat felt dry at this horrible suggestion, but I knew how true it was. And then once more there was silence, and, like the rest—officers and men—we stood there watching the burning wreck hour after hour, not a soul on board feeling the slightest disposition to go below.
It must have been quite a couple of hours later, when I started in the darkness, for something touched my arm, and, looking sharply to my right, I could just make out the figure of Ching close to me, while on looking in the other direction I found that I was alone, for Barkins and Smith had gone forward to a group close to the bows.
“You, Ching?” I said, “looking at the mischief your friends have done?”
“Fliends burnee ship? No fliends. Velly bad men. Ching feel allee shame. Velly bad men evelywhere. Killee, get dollar. No velly bad men, London?”
“I’m afraid there are,” I said sadly.
“Yes; velly bad men, London. Killee get dollar. You choppee off bad men head?”
“No,” I said; “but they kill them if they commit murder.”
“Commit murder? You mean killee get dollar?”
“Yes.”
“Allee light. Plenty bad men evelywhere. Captain going kill pilate?”
“If we can catch them,” I said.
“Yes, velly hard catchee catchee. Captain never catchee in ship. Pilate allee lun away. ’Flaid of big gun. Get two big junk, put plenty sailor boy where pilate can’t see. Then pilate come along kill and burnee. Junk steal all along. Jolly sailor jump up and cut allee pilate head off.”
“Send that boy forward!” cried a stern voice, which made me jump again. “Who’s that?”
“Herrick, sir,” I said, touching my cap, for the captain came forward out of the darkness.
“Then you ought to know better, sir. The scoundrel has no business in this part of the ship. What does he want?”
“I beg pardon, sir; he came up to propose a way of trapping the pirates.”
“Eh, what?” said the captain eagerly. “Bah! absurd. Send him below; I hate to see the very face of a Chinaman. No; stop! He ought to know something of their tricks. What does he say?”
I told him, and he stood there as if thinking.
“Well, I don’t know, Mr Herrick. We might perhaps lure them out of their hiding-places in that way, with a couple of Chinese crews to work the junks. But no; the wretches would be equally strong, and would fight like rats. Too many of my poor lads would be cut down. They would have us at a terrible disadvantage. We must keep to the ship. I can only fight these wretches with guns.”
He was turning away, when a thought struck me, and, forgetting my awe of the captain, and the fact that a proposal from a midshipman to such a magnate might be resented as an unheard-of piece of impertinence, I exclaimed excitedly—
“I beg pardon, sir.”
“Yes?”
“I think I know how it could be done.”
“Eh? You, Mr Herrick! Pooh! Stop,” he said sharply, as, feeling completely abashed, I was shrinking away, when he laid his hand kindly on my shoulder. “Let’s hear what you mean, my boy. The mouse did help the lion in the fable, didn’t he?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not that I consider myself a lion, Mr Herrick,” he said good-humouredly, “and I will not insult you by calling you a mouse; but these Chinese fiends are too much for me, and I really am caught in the net. Here, send that man forward, and come into my cabin.”
“Ching, go right up to the forecastle,” I said.
“No wantee go s’eep,” he said angrily. “Makee Ching bad see ship burned.”
“Never mind now; go and wait,” I whispered; and he nodded and went off, while I walked hurriedly back to the captain, who led the way to his cabin.
Before I had gone many steps I had to pass Smith, who came quickly up to me.
“Hallo! old chap,” he whispered, “what have you been up to now? Wigging from the skipper? I’ll go and tell the Tanner, and we’ll get clean handkerchiefs for a good cry.”