CHAPTER VIIIThe Vigilant Sails AgainThe Padré Complains—Mr. Hoffman Returns—Under Way Again—Good News—"Good Old Dicky!"—Mr. Rashleigh's Report—A Unfair ReportWritten by Commander TruscottI had had an extremely busy ten days superintending the fitting out of those junks, and getting them and the gunboats away to their cruising grounds. I think that I had offended pretty nearly everyone in the ship, from the Fleet Surgeon, who disliked parting with so many sick bay stores, to the youngest cadet, who thought that he ought to have been given a chance.The Skipper was positively in a vile temper all the time, and I, myself, and old Bax, the Fleet Paymaster, who came from the same part of the country as he did, were the only ones who dared to approach him. He simply spat fire whenever anyone spoke to him, and the simplest thing used to bring forth a torrent of oaths, and it was best to beat a hasty retreat.Don't think that I minded, or anyone else—really. "How's 'Old Lest' this morning?" they would ask, after I had reported morning "divisions" to him, and I must say that I generally had to say "Worse than ever". They would all chuckle at that.For some reason or other everyone, except the Skipper himself, seemed to be proud of his temper, and the more he roared and swore, the more the men liked him."He's the worst-tempered man in the service, I should imagine," the young Padré had remarked one morning, when he and I and Mayhew, the Fleet Surgeon, were walking up and down the quarterdeck, and could hear him storming at "Willum" down below."For worst-tempered read best-tempered," Mayhew had replied fierily. "You've only been a 'dog watch' in the service, and when you know something about it, you'll know that you are wrong. Why, man, he's the best Skipper to serve under in the whole blessed navy. Call him bad tempered! Why, great snakes! that's the temper coming out of him instead of being bottled up. It's only fools and rotters who have tempers that don't come out."I fancy that the Padré's knowledge of human nature was of the slightest, and I also must admit that it was probably very difficult to preach a good sermon to the accompaniment of the Skipper's snores, but he hadn't quite shaken down in his new surroundings.When he first joined the ship his sermons were full of "my dear brothers", or "dear brethren", and it was as good as a play to see the Skipper's face when he happened to be awake and first heard himself called a "dear brother". I thought he would have had a "fit", and after church he stalked down below without saying a word, Blucher at his heels, and sent for me.Then out it came. He had bottled it up for nearly twenty minutes, and he pretty well excelled himself. "That little—little—whipper—snapper call 'Old Lest' his 'dear brother'! Don't let him come near 'Old Lest'. I'll 'dear brother' him if he does it again!" and he glared at me and shook his huge fists in my face absolutely unable to say anything more."Very good, sir; I will speak to the Chaplain," I had answered, and fled.For some reason or other I forgot to do so, but, after lunch that morning, the younger people in the mess spread him out on the sofa, very gently, and sat on him. I happened to go into the ward room at the moment, and found eight of them and Old Bax in a heap, with bits of the young idiot showing out here and there under them, and heard them sing out, "Here's another dear brother," as they bumped him and he gasped for breath, and implored them to leave off. I slipped back to my cabin, and, as I expected, there was a knock at my door a few minutes afterwards, and in he came, very dishevelled, and complained of the indignity."You surprise me, Padré," I told him. "I can only say that I happened to go to the mess, and saw you 'scrapping' with your brother officers in the most unbecoming manner, and endeavouring, as far as I could make out, to break up the mess furniture. I trust that such conduct will not occur again."He got very red and confused, and was going away, when I called him back: "Of course, Padré, you must remember that if they do dislike any of your expressions, you often enough complain of some of theirs, and I should advise you to humour them. It's often a great effort on their part to humour you, and you should be proud that they do try. I will speak to them, but strongly advise you to drop the 'dear brother' part of the show."I'm glad to say that he did, and eventually became quite proud of relating the bumping incident as "a stepping-stone in my education for a life so strange, and at one period so apparently uncongenial, ah!"As a matter of fact, he was always called "dear brother" after that, so never had the chance to forget it. To come back to my yarn, the absence of three watch-keepers and so many petty officers and men, to say nothing of the midshipmen, made it difficult enough to carry on the ordinary work of the ship. This was a constant source of irritation to Lawrence, Whitmore, and myself, and above all, there was the added overwhelming anxiety at the fate of Travers, Sally, and her father. It was now five weeks since they had disappeared, and I assure you that these weeks had only increased our anxiety and the feeling of utter helplessness at our inability to discover their whereabouts and rescue them. Somewhere, but whether north, south, east, or west, we had not the faintest notion, they were waiting for a sign of our coming, and every evening, as the sun set and the dark clouds and grey twilight shut out the islands all round us and wrapped them in darkness, the feeling of depression used to become still more acute, and we used to imagine them beginning another dreary night of waiting, and longing, and praying that the morning would bring them rescue, which we all knew it wouldn't. These things, and the want of exercise on shore, were excuses sufficient to account for any irritability of temper.The Skipper used to tramp the quarterdeck from after "evening quarters" till sunset, but then the sight of the long skeins of ducks, geese, and swans flighting across the harbour to the mud flats round some of the smaller islands used to drive him down below. He used to growl: "Umph! That's what 'Old Lest' came down here to do, to shoot 'em, and he's only made a fool of himself so far. Umph!" and he'd send "Willum" round for three of us to go aft to make up a rubber of whist.But at last the long period of inaction came to an end. One morning, just a week after theRingdoveand her two junks had left, I had turned out with the hands, and was walking up and down till my servant had made my morning cup of tea, the quarterdeck men scrubbing and holystoning round me in the dismal light.I noticed a little native sailing boat beating up to Tinghai, and I remember that I thought it strange for so small a boat to have been out at night time. As it came towards the harbour, I watched it idly through my telescope, and presently saw that there were three men in it—a Chinaman steering and two people pulling lee oars, one a Chinaman and—I looked again to make sure—the other a tall gaunt fellow with a shaggy black beard. "That's a rum go," I thought, and was still more surprised when I saw them lower the sail—they were directly to leeward of us—and begin to pull straight towards theVigilant."What on earth's going to happen now?" I thought, as the boat crept alongside, the men pulling very feebly. The gaunt European half crawled up the ladder and advanced towards me, and for a moment I did not recognize him."Hoffman!" he said.Good heavens! I recognized him then, even with that black beard, and with his face sunken and starved looking. "We thought you'd been burnt," I said, holding out my hand, as he tottered on to the quarterdeck."Give me some drink and food, and those men too," he gasped; and I led him down below to my cabin—I thought he would have fallen down the hatchway, he was so weak. Fortunately my servant had just brought my tea and some bread and butter, and he drank and ate as if he had not touched food for a week.I sent for another plate of bread and butter, and when he had finished that, and drunk all my tea and two tumblers full of water, he didn't wait for me to ask him any questions, but, clutching at the chair, and with a wild look in his eyes, began, "For God's sake, Commander, get the Captain to start at once! I know where Hobbs and his daughter are, or were, six days ago, and if you are quick you may rescue them before they can be hurried off somewhere else.""Good heavens, man! and Travers, do you know where he is too?" I shouted, jumping up."Yes, I do; but he's not with them," he answered."Is she safe?" I asked eagerly; and he nodded, "Yes; up to the present.""How the dickens did you escape being burnt? We've actually read the funeral service over the ruins of the Mission.""Wait," he half moaned. "Go and tell your Captain I am here, and give me a cigarette—I haven't tasted one for a month."I woke the Skipper. "That German, Hoffman, has come aboard, sir. Says he knows where Sally is and Travers.""What?" roared the Skipper, opening his eyes."That German chap Hoffman has come aboard, sir.""Well, don't wake me," he grunted, not hearing me properly."He's that man we thought had been burnt in the Mission House. He knows where Hobbs and Sally and Travers are," I repeated in a louder voice; and he jumped out of his bunk, swearing angrily, "Why didn't you tell me before?" and roared for "Willum" to help him dress. "Bring him aft in five minutes' time," he growled."For goodness sake, don't suggest anything to him! Don't attempt to give him any advice," I implored Hoffman. "Ten to one, if you do, he'll put obstacles in the way. Just tell him what you know, and nothing more.""I'll remember," he said wearily, as I took him aft. He had to steady himself with one hand on my shoulder, he was so weak; his clothes simply hung in loose folds.I slipped away and turned out Hutton, our Engineer Commander, telling him what I knew, and that the Skipper would be sending for him in a minute or two. In fact, he hardly pulled his trousers over his pyjamas before he was sent for. "How long will it take to get up steam?" I asked him, as I helped him on with his monkey jacket. "An hour; we're still under banked fires—have been all the time," and then I went round, turning everyone out. It was such a godsend to have at last some news to tell."D'they know where Mr. Travers and the pretty little lady be, sir?" the captain of the quarterdeck asked me; and I heard him tell his men, and they left off scrubbing to discuss the situation. "Little lady or no little lady," he sang out, "just you go on with your 'olystoning."In less than half an hour we had steam on the capstan, and were shortening in the cable, and in another hour were under way. It was glorious to feel the engines moving round again and the beastly steam steering gear rattling under my cabin once more, and to know that at last our long six weeks of inaction were at an end.There wasn't a long face or a sour face in the ship that day.The Skipper had filled his pockets with his beloved Havanas, and pulled one out for me on the fore bridge too—a sure sign that he was in the best of tempers."That chap Hoffman couldn't lift a hundredweight now," he chuckled. "I'll take him 'on' when he's had a bit of sleep—the only chance I'll get," and he gurgled and croaked with laughter. "He don't exactly give himself away, does he, Truscott? Couldn't get him to suggest a single thing.""I told him not to, sir," I said, smiling."Umph! Think 'Old Lest' an obstinate old fool, do you? Think you know 'Old Lest' better'n he knows himself, do you? That's the worst of having a commander who's been shipmates for seven years. Umph!" And he glared at me, and was in a grand humour.As a matter of fact, there were several reasons which made it inconvenient to leave so hurriedly. For one thing, we were, as you know, very shorthanded, and for another, we expected the gunboats to return at any moment with their tenders, and it would, at the best, be a tedious business to call them all in. Fortunately we met the oldHuan Minpounding back to Tinghai for more coal; judging by the smoke she made she seemed to grind it into dust and then blow it up her funnel. We stopped her, and the Skipper sent on board to tell her Captain where theVigilantwas going, and to ask him to communicate with the other gunboats, and with theOmaha, which had gone off by herself.Ching evidently wrote the letter which came back, promising to do this, and he sent a private one to his chum Lawrence to say that they were all immensely pleased to hear that there was a chance of rescuing the captives, and that theHuan Minwould come along after us as soon as possible."He says that his shoulder is practically all right again now, sir. He's made a jolly sight less fuss about it than I should have done." Lawrence smiled when he'd finished reading this letter. "I wonder how much he cares whether we ever see Hobbs or Travers again? He doesn't hurry the oldHuan Minround these islands to find them, I bet you anything you like, sir. He's hunting for Sally. He's simply head over heels in love with her.""More power to his elbow," I said. "We all are, more or less."We had left orders for the gunboats to follow us—left them with Macpherson the missionary, so felt sure that they would fetch up, sooner or later, even if theHuan Minmissed them.The island for which we were now steering was right away in the SE. corner of the archipelago, one of a group marked on the chart as the Hector Group (it was so named after a transport which was wrecked there in 1851).It was there that Hobbs and his daughter were reported to be by Hoffman, and it took the Skipper but a very few minutes to determine that he would go there first and leave Travers till later.As it happened, by great good fortune, there was no necessity to regret his decision, because just after dark we sighted the lights of a steamer, flashed the "demand" from our masthead lamp, and it turned out to be theRingdoveon the way back to Tinghai. I wasn't on the bridge at the time, and had only just reached the deck after she was reported to me, when I heard men cheering, and a midshipman rushed up, "Mr. Travers is on board, sir, and well, sir! Isn't that grand?"It's extraordinary how good—and bad—news comes in lumps together, and this seemed suddenly to make me feel ten years younger. I was up that bridge in a "brace of shakes". We had stopped our engines, and theRingdovewas flashing across a long signal, and everyone bent eagerly forward to try and take it in, whilst the signalman wrote it down, and clicked the shutter of his hand lamp to show theRingdovethat he had taken it in correctly.Most of us were so much out of practice that we only got a word or a number here or there, but enough to know that she and her junks had lost a lot of men. At last theRingdovehad finished, and the signalman brought his signal pad to the Captain."Read it out, Truscott; your eyes are younger than mine."Someone held up a lantern, and I read: "Have rescued Lieutenant Travers uninjured from island of Chung-li Tao Group. No news of whereabouts of Hobbs or daughter. TenderSallysunk by gun fire; tenderFerretwrecked and abandoned, guns saved. Losses—Ringdove, one man wounded, since dead, two wounded;Sally, four[#] men killed, Mid Morton, two men wounded;Ferret, two men killed, five wounded."[#] Cooke, A.B., had died as a result of his injuries."Phew!" whistled the Skipper. "They've had a hot time! Read it again."I did so."Do they mean young Morton's killed or wounded?""Ask them."Click, click went the shutter of the signalman's lamp.You could not hear a sound whilst theRingdovelight twinkled the reply, and we all gave a gasp of relief when we read—W-O-U-N-D—O-F—S-C-A-L-P—O-U-T—O-F—D-A-N-G-E-R."Get 'em all aboard," the Skipper told me; "best send both cutters," and he sent a midshipman running aft. "Tell the Doctor—ten wounded coming fromRingdove."We signalled across for her to "close", and that we were sending for the wounded and for the rest of the crews of the two junks.This was a jolly ticklish job, because a rather heavy sea was running; but we ran our searchlights, and I sent Lawrence and Whitmore away in charge of the boats, and we managed to transfer them all without anything happening worse than breaking one or two oars.We gave Travers a cheer when he came across, and all crowded round and congratulated him; and we cheered Trevelyan, young Rawlings and their men, and Ford and his. They had come over in the first boat, and Rashleigh had come as well—to report personally.Whilst he was down below I got a list of the names of those killed and wounded from Trevelyan, and had it stuck on the lower deck notice board. Scroggs was a serious loss to me—the captain of the fore top, and a fine reliable man—and the others were all good men; they wouldn't have been sent there, of course, if they hadn't been.Ford and his six men had lost everything except what they stood up in, but every one of them was in the best of spirits. The second cutter came along-side with the wounded, and young Morton was the first to be carried up the ladder, managed a smile from under his bandages, and we gave him a cheer.The mids who'd been left behind sang out, "Good old Dicky". I knew perfectly well that he had been called "Dear Little Dicky", and that the inoffensive, harmless little chap hated it, and was glad to hear them drop it for once. I knew a good many more of the "ins and outs" of what went on in the gunroom than the Mids used to give me credit for.The rest of the wounded were carried up, or hobbled up the ladder, and they all went for'ard to the sick bay.Then Rashleigh went back, simply bubbling over with importance and excitement, the Skipper actually coming up to see him over the side. He didn't often pay anyone under the rank of post captain that compliment."I thought that chap a blooming blockhead—told you so often—but he's done a jolly sight better than I gave him credit for; that he has, Truscott, that he has. And he's found a place where they're as thick as thieves—big guns mounted, and all that. I've sent him back to keep his eye on it. Jolly smart chap! Things are just coming along now, eh? They'll find 'Old Lest' ain't such a fool as they think, eh?""We've made a good start, sir, although we've lost rather heavily.""Put up a subscription list, Truscott; some of those men have left families. Stick me down for twenty-five 'thick 'uns'. It's more than 'Old Lest' can afford, but stick 'em down. If the Admiralty don't pay for those junks, and the others get knocked about or lost as well, 'Old Lest' 'll find himself in the Bankruptcy Court, umph!""Make a signal: Captain Lester to Captain, officers, and men of theRingdove."The Captain, officers, and men of theVigilantcongratulate you on the plucky rescue of Lieutenant Travers and the two junks' crews."He sent for'ard to tell the Fleet Surgeon to let him know directly he could come down to see the wounded, and then stalked along the upper deck to the bridge, swinging his great shoulders and striding down an admiring lane of men, who made a gangway and stood to attention as he passed. You could see, even by the little light there was, how they worshipped him.We hoisted in our boats and steamed off towards our island, the littleRingdoveturning back to hers and signalling, "Captain, officers, and men," to ditto. "Thank you very much. We are very proud to have the honour of serving under your orders."That pleased the Skipper—the last part, I mean—for he was simply a huge simple-minded baby, and he grunted, and puffed at his cigar."He's tickled to death with that," Lawrence whispered to me. "Old Rashleigh knows how to get the soft side of him, doesn't he?"Rashleigh had brought over a written report of his proceedings, a copy of which I give you, so that you may draw your own conclusions. He had not had time to finish it properly, and I hardly think that he could have read it over either, after having written it.H.M.S.Ringdove,Off the Chung-li Tao Group, Chusan Archipelago,May7th.SIR,—In pursuance of your orders, I have the honour to report that I towed the two tenders, theFerret, Lieutenant Trevelyan, and theSally, Midshipman Ford, to a position five miles to wind'ard (the wind being SSW.) of the Chung-li Tao Islands, arriving there at 8 a.m. on the 2nd May.At 10 a.m. I despatched theSallyto search to the east'ard, and theFerretto the west'ard, and repaired to a rendezvous to leeward of them, giving them instructions which should meet any probable eventualities which might arise.I waited at the rendezvous till the morning of the 4th May, and then sighted theSally, and ordered her to come alongside. She reported that she had three men killed, Mid Morton and two A.B.'s severely wounded, and that she was much damaged by shot above the water line. She had chased a pirate junk and sunk her, but had then most unwisely attacked four others, and only escaped with the above losses. Her Maxim gun had been destroyed, and she had expended practically all her six-pounder ammunition.Mr. Ford also reported having met the tenderFerretthe night before, and that Mr. Trevelyan, contrary to my orders, had at once altered course to the island where theSallyhad been attacked. The wind had veered to NW. by N. during the night, and was now blowing a strong breeze. As it was therefore impossible for him to beat back to me under three days, I took the wounded on board my ship, buried two of his men at sea, and steamed towards the island and channel in which Mr. Ford had engaged the four junks. TheSallyfollowed me at all speed.I arrived off the entrance to the channel at noon of next day, and on entering it was fired at by a two-gun battery at close range. One shot came aboard me and wounded two men—one, Edward Larking, ord. sea. No. 867037, has since died. I silenced these guns, and proceeding up the channel, discovered that Mr. Trevelyan had wrecked his junk at the entrance to a small creek, and was in a desperate position, being attacked by rifle fire from both sides of the creek.I made a hasty exploration of the creek, and found that a quarter of a mile inland it opened out, and that anchored there were a number of war junks, and a very large number of merchant junks.I determined to attack, but first deemed it necessary to survey the channel, which operation was successfully performed, under a heavy fire, by Sub-lieutenant Harrow, who worked with great coolness, and lost one man wounded.By the time the channel was reported as being sufficiently deep to allow the passage of theRingdove, it was dusk, and I determined to take her in at daybreak of the following day. Meanwhile I transferred the guns and most of the stores of theFerretto my ship.At daybreak I weighed, and was at once fired upon by a gun, mounted on the cliffs three hundred feet above my head, to which it was impossible to reply.I immediately recognized that it would, under the circumstances, be impossible to force the entrance, and stood off, ordering theSallyto follow me.She was, however, struck by a large shot or shell, and commenced to sink, and I had only sufficient time to bring off her crew, and could not save any of her stores.The cutter which brought off her crew sighted a man on the rocks, who semaphored that he was Lieutenant Travers, and most pluckily brought him off under a heavy fire.I then altered course for Tinghai with the crews of my tenders on board.My officers and crew behaved with gallantry and coolness under trying circumstances.I am, Sir,Your obedient Servant,S. T. RASHLEIGH,Lieut. and Commander.ToCaptain CHARLES E. LESTER, R.N.,H.M.S.Vigilant,Senior Officer, Chusan Archipelago.It was no doubt written hurriedly and finished off abruptly after sighting theVigilant; but from what I learned afterwards, hardly gave a correct, or rather fair account of the doings of his tenders.I was rather amused by young Ford coming to my cabin next morning. He had a boat's ensign under his arm, looked very sheepish, and wanted to know if he might keep it. "The signalman of theSallyborrowed it, sir, and hoisted it, without my knowing, whilst we were fighting those junks—he didn't know that it was against orders—and I do want to take it home 'so badly'."I told him to run and hide it, and he could not have been more pleased.CHAPTER IXMr. Hoffman's SecretBored Travers—Bored Travers Continues—"Old Lest" in Form—"We've Got 'em at Last"—A Dirty Night—"Old Lest" Unfolds a Tale—Mr. Hoffman's Tale—"Old Lest" and Hoffman—A Marvellous Old ChapWritten by Commander TruscottAt the time of parting company with theRingdovethe weather was extremely unpleasant—heavy rain squalls and a bitterly cold northerly wind—but it was snug enough down below, and, to celebrate the return of Travers, we gave him a great dinner in the ward room.It is hardly necessary to tell you that we were all in the very brightest spirits, and spent a most jovial and riotous evening—all except, funnily enough, Travers himself. He was always a bit bored at these shows, and "turned in" early, only too glad to find himself once more in his own bunk. He was known throughout the fleet as Bored-Travers, or "B.-T.", his full surname being Gore-Travers, and was rather a weird chap, with a superior, supercilious, "Bond-Street-on-a-swagger-morning air" about him, which, somehow or other, gave everyone the idea that he looked "down" upon everybody else. You couldn't help liking him, however, for all that. I had never seen him enthusiastic about anything except a pretty girl or a game of cricket, and now after dinner he looked bored to distraction, leant wearily against a stanchion, and told Lawrence and the others his yarn. It was like drawing teeth out of a horse, to get him to tell anything at all."Oh! that night, um! Oh yes! I remember. One of those Mission native chaps got hold of me when I'd got inside the gates—couldn't shake him off—too much bore altogether, you fellows. He was so jolly earnest, I just went along with him. He said something about Old Hobbs and his daughter being carried away, or something. I had to go, you know—had never seen the girl—all you fellows said she was pretty—forgot 'A' company wasn't coming along too."He stopped in the most irritating way to fill his pipe. "Same beastly old tobacco in the mess—can't get it to draw—never could.""Didn't you find them, and have a scrap down there on the beach?" Trevelyan asked. "There was a Chinaman down there—dead, with a Webley revolver bullet in him.""Did I kill him?" he asked, without the faintest display of interest. "I knew the beastly revolver would go off some day and hurt someone. Someone took it away after that—lots of them—shoved a beastly cloth over my head, and shoved me into a boat. They seemed to want me to stay still, so I did.""Did they knock you about much?" "Didn't you see Sally?" several asked, and Trevelyan very eagerly added, "How many boats did you see? We thought there were three. We saw the keel marks of three in the mud."He seemed quite amused at their eagerness."Well, you chaps, I think they must have knocked me on the head. I didn't remember much about it—didn't see anything I could swear to—rather fancy, though, there were two boats, and, now you mention it, that I did hear a girl's scream just before. Don't remember anything else till I woke up, with a beastly headache, and a mouth like a limekiln, in a jolly sight better cabin than I've got on board here.""That must have been Hobbs's yacht! What happened then?""Nothing at all—couldn't shave—had forgotten to bring my razors and" (yawning) "my dressing case with me—there wasn't a towel there, or water even—and there they kept me till they shoved me ashore, where young Ford found me.""Ford?" I said, chipping in. "I thought Rashleigh did that." The Skipper had just shown me his report."Rashleigh! No, sir. He was shoving out of it as hard as he could go. Young Ford came along and picked me off—he and the rest of his junk's crew—in theRingdove'scutter. The Chinamen wasted a lot of good ammunition over the lot of us, and I'd have made 'em pay for it if I'd been in" (yawning) "charge of 'em."Plucky chap that," he went on placidly, ordering the marine servant to bring him more sugar for his coffee. "I told him so. Hope it won't make him more conceited than he is."How about that Chinese cove who came along with me in theRingdove!" he asked, with some little display of interest."He's all right, B.-T.," someone said. "Came aboard with the wounded.""Um! I thought I'd given him the slip. Promised him a hundred dollars for getting me out of it, and" (yawning several times) "I haven't got a hundred cents in the world.""That's all right. You've got your last month's pay due to you," Old Bax growled impatiently. "But, man alive, shove on with your yarn."Travers simply opened his eyes a little more widely, looked amusedly at him, and yawned again."What did you do all the time?" "Give you decent grub?" "Did you see the boss of the show?" Questions simply poured in, but he languidly helped himself to more sugar, and stirred his coffee."Why the dickens can't our cook make better stuff than this? The grub was beastly, and I grew a beastly beard, and everything was" (yawning) "beastly. There was a chap there—an old Scotch engineer fellow—seemed to belong to the show—came across to yarn once or twice—said he was tired of having no one to talk to—but he bored me, so didn't come often.""Weren't you excited when you heard the firing?" the young Padré asked."Interested," Travers drawled; "I'm never excited—just interested," and he put on his most superior look, and the young Padré retired in confusion. "There was a bit of a shindy—guns, and all that—about a week after I'd been there. It was rather interesting—at any rate the coves there thought so."I remembered now that Rashleigh had reported having heard the sound of guns in the direction of the Chung-li Tao Group about that time, and had had his head snapped off by the Skipper for his pains. He may have been right, after all. "What happened? Who were firing?" I asked."I don't know, sir; think they must have had a bit of a 'pick up' among themselves. I did mention it to the old Scotchman, but he wasn't giving anything away just then, and I never thought of asking him again.""Was he a prisoner too?" I asked. He was very irritating."Oh no! Think he bossed the show—when he was sober. Told me one day that they'd sent the Old Yank and Sally somewhere, where we'd never find them. Seemed to know a good deal about it, and seemed sorry for the girl too.""I'm going to turn in now, you fellows, if you don't mind. Thank you very much, but I haven't slept in a bed for six" (yawning) "weeks," and he stretched himself and yawned again and went away.Trevelyan disappeared with him and came back triumphantly. He had that glove which we had picked up behind the Mission House. "We were right, after all, sir! That was his glove, and he had borrowed Lawrence's handkerchief. I've got that much out of him. He says he'll never stuff a handkerchief up his sleeve again. He'd given a couple of pounds" (if there had been anyone to borrow from) "not to have dropped it.""It's the first thing I've ever got back after he once borrowed it," Lawrence sang out, and we all laughed with him.The Skipper came in presently (Hoffman had been dining with him, but had turned in directly afterwards), and we dragged Old Bax, the Fleet Paymaster, to the piano and made him sing, "Tam Pearce, Tam Pearce, bring me my grey mare"; and the Skipper joined in the chorus and smoked, and Old Bax "cadged" his best cigars from him and smoked them, one after another. The Skipper grunted and growled, and was redder in the face than ever, took off his mess jacket and loosened his braces, and beat everyone else at feats of strength, and was as happy as a sand-boy. He went down into the gunroom to say a few words, as he put it, and I went with him. He squeezed himself in, and, as they all stood up, growled out, "Umph! Sit down, please! 'Old Lest' will give you all a show—later on. If those two steamers are there when we get in to-morrow afternoon, umph! we'll go in and sink 'em. If there ain't enough water for the boats, we'll swim" (huge yells of delight). "Good night, gentlemen; three of you have done a bit of fighting, the Fleet Surgeon hopes to get Morton off the sick list in a day or two, and I hope you others will do as well. Umph! You can have half an hour's extra lights."They made a perfect deafening noise, gave three cheers and a "tiger", and then he came back to the ward room, and stayed there till after midnight—the youngest of the lot of us—he and Old Bax chaffing each other in broad West Country dialect. Old Bax had "wiped his eye", the last time they had gone shooting, by bagging a woodcock which the Skipper had missed with both barrels, and never lost an opportunity of reminding him of it.Whitmore and I slipped away long before the ward room singsong was finished, and the ship quiet again, because we had to make all arrangements for manning and arming boats if necessary. You see, we had so many seaman ratings away, that it was rather difficult to fill their places.Hoffman had his breakfast in his cabin, and spent two hours alone with the Skipper during the morning, and I did not see him again till we were nearing the Hector Group late in the afternoon. He then came up and helped Lawrence pick his way among the islands towards the one where he said that Hobbs and Sally were imprisoned.We all hoped to discover the tramp steamer and the yacht anchored there, but very much feared that the prisoners might have been spirited away again in one or other of them. The anxiety grew greater as we drew nearer, and was shared by every soul on board, for everyone knew by this time all that I myself knew.It struck me as peculiar how intimate and accurate was Hoffman's knowledge of the local pilotage. There seemed to be some strange "bond" between him and the Skipper, and I felt sure, from the Skipper's manner to him, and from his silence to me, that there was something which I did not know, and which would explain a good many things when I did know it.One thing indeed the Captain had told me, blurting it out when I reported "defaulters" to him, and found him and Hoffman together. "Hoffman tells me that that rascally Englishman, who sold that yacht of his to Hobbs, is bossing this show. He's hanging on to Hobbs and Sally, and trying to force the poor little lass to marry him—umph! or make her father pay a pretty penny. He'll skin him out pretty thoroughly, I'll be bound.""If you don't get hold of her quickly, Captain, I believe she'll consent," Hoffman said."Just to save old man Hobbs's dollars, eh? Poor little lass, eh?" the Skipper grunted."Partly that and partly because he is such a handsome, dare-devil scoundrel, that I don't think she'd be unwilling;" and Hoffman moaned and buried his face in his hands. He was still as weak as a rat, and couldn't control his feelings."Poor little soul!" the Skipper said softly. "God help us to get her out of his clutches!"At about five bells (2.30 p.m.) in the afternoon we eventually sighted the island, a low irregular line on the horizon right ahead, a gloomy enough prison under its dark sullen banks of rain clouds. The wind had gone down during the morning watch, and the sea was fairly smooth, but the rain still came down mercilessly, and everything was dripping with moisture and extremely uncomfortable. "Masthead lookout!" roared the Skipper from the fore bridge, "keep your eye lifting for two steamers lying under the land," and to assist him sent up the sharpest eyed signalman.In spite of the drenching downpour, the fo'c'stle and under the fore bridge was crowded with men, all their eyes glued on the land as we very slowly forged towards it through the muddy yellow water. I don't suppose that there was a single field glass or telescope in the ship not in use.Then there came a yell from the masthead which made us all look up. "Yes, sir, I can see them—two steamers under the land, right ahead, sir;" and we all stared ahead, and in a few minutes could see them ourselves, and, quite without orders, everyone cheered and waved his cap, looking up at the Skipper from the fo'c'stle to see whether he was looking happy. The cheers were as much for sighting the steamers as for knowing that now "Old Lest" would have a chance of paying off old scores, and the Skipper, looking bigger than ever in his dripping tarpaulins, roared out to ask me if I'd ever been aboard a man-of-war before, and knew what discipline was; so I sent my midshipman down to stop the noise."Umph! Truscott, we've got 'em at last;" and he slowly dug his fingers into the palms of his hands, as if he was crushing something, glared at me, and shook them in my face.We slowly steamed along, till we took soundings under six fathoms, and then anchored. "Can't go in any farther," I heard Hoffman tell Lawrence, and again wondered how he had picked up all this knowledge.The cable had scarcely finished rattling out before the Skipper, turning to me, said, "Man and arm boats, Commander; I'll go in directly. Old Lest ain't going to let grass grow under his feet.""We've only got about two hours more daylight, sir," I told him, thinking that there was scarcely time for the boats to get ashore."Umph!" he growled, and went down below.In forty minutes I'd got them all away, the steam pinnace, with the Skipper and Hoffman aboard, towing the launch and sailing pinnace, and the steam cutter towing the barge and the two cutters. We were so short of men that Marshall and his marines had to man the sailing pinnace, and very few men were left aboard to give them a cheer as they shoved off, only about half a dozen seamen, a few marines, and the stokers.I had thought of keeping Trevelyan on board, but the Skipper growled out, "Send him in with me. 'Old Lest's' brain's not as sharp as it was. He'll smell out something."It was still raining hard, but the sea remained smooth. Personally, I thought it rather unwise not to wait for the morning; but the Skipper was so anxious not to give the pirates a moment's rest, and to start by sinking those steamers or driving them ashore—to do anything, in fact, to prevent them escaping—that the risk was probably worth taking. The steam pinnace had her fourteen-inch torpedo dropping gear fitted, and the Skipper's main idea was to blow holes in the steamer and the yacht, and so effectually to prevent them moving. Once more, it was not so much our chief object to destroy the pirates or recapture the yacht, as to rescue the little American girl and her father. We hoped that we had now found where they were concealed, and our first object was to prevent them being smuggled away again.We kept the boats in view till they disappeared in the gathering dusk and the heavy rain, and then could only wait for them to return. It was so cold on deck, that I went down to warm myself in front of the ward room fire. Mayhew, the Fleet Surgeon, was sitting cosily in front of it, and made room for me. "Heard or seen anything?" he asked. "I shall have them all on the sick list if they ever do come back. I've never seen a night I should less like to spend in an open boat."I hadn't been there five minutes, when the quartermaster came clattering down from the quarterdeck in his dripping oilskins and sea boots. "We can see some flashes ashore, sir. I think our boats are firing as well, sir."Both of us ran on deck. Several dull "booms" gave us the direction in which to look, and every now and again we could see the twinkle of a gun flash a very long way off, generally a single one, then perhaps two or three quickly, one after the other. It was just as if someone a hundred yards away was striking matches, which the wind blew out as they were struck. The reports came along a few seconds later, and among them we could hear quite distinct sharp cracks. These were from our boats' guns, I expect. In spite of it being so wet, every soul on board was on deck, staring through the darkness and the incessant rain, to try and make out the boats returning. We ran a searchlight, throwing the beams vertically upwards to guide them, and could do no more. This beam lighted up the raindrops, and made everything even more depressing than it was before.I only wish that all men were obliged to supply themselves with oilskins or thick pea-jackets, for, as it was, hardly one in twenty away in those open boats had them, and I could imagine pretty plainly the state they were in now.By ten o'clock there was no sign of them whatever, and I was very anxious. Midnight came (I don't know what foolhardy ideas hadn't occurred to me in the meantime), and shortly afterwards we heard the sound of more guns, and a muffled, long-drawn-out "boom", which made me almost jump out of my skin, my nerves were so very much on the stretch. "That's a torpedo, sir," the signalman said. I didn't much care what it was; I really was so thankful to know that they were still in existence.The noises ceased almost immediately, and I again trusted that they were on their return journey. A long, dreary wait followed, and then one of the people on the bridge spotted flames from the steam pinnace's funnel. We watched them flicker out every now and again, drawing steadily nearer, and I sent down to Mayhew to have everything ready in case there were any wounded. Presently she came close enough to hail, and to see that she was towing the launch, sailing pinnace, the barge, and the cutter. She had a good deal of "list" to port, and I thought at first that she must have been damaged, but then saw, as she rounded up to come alongside, that she had dropped her starboard torpedo, which accounted for it. The boats ran alongside, and the Skipper came up the gangway."What luck, sir?" I asked him. "Where's the steam cutter and the second cutter? Anyone hurt, sir?"His face was purple blue with the cold, but he was in the highest spirits. "Blown a hole in that tramp steamer; made the little yacht run up inside the creek. That's a good beginning for 'Old Lest', eh? Haven't had a man touched, and left the second cutter and the steam cutter inshore to come off at daybreak. Got the galley fires alight?" he asked, before he went below. "The men are pretty well dead with the cold and the wet.""I'd thought of that, sir," I told him; "they shall have some hot cocoa and pea soup directly they have fallen out."I had never seen such a washed-out crowd of people as clambered on board that night. Even though those in the boats had pulled their oars on the way off to the ship, they were simply blue and shivering and stiff. You may guess that I got all the gear replaced, and the men dismissed to their messes as quickly as possible.When I went in to report to the Captain, he was standing in front of his blazing fire in a thick dressing gown. He had a great bowl of pea soup in his hands, and Blucher was leaning up against his legs. "Umph! that's good," he said, smacking his lips and rubbing himself. "Warms one's inside, eh?" and he roared to "Willum" to bring his eighteenpenny Havanas, and made me smoke one: I should have very much preferred a pipe."Willum" had been sent round to collect all those officers who had been away, and they came trooping in in all kinds of rigs, all looking jolly pleased with themselves, and Willum served them out hot drinks, and the Skipper said, "Here's luck to the little lass and the oldVig," and when they were thoroughly warm sent them all away to turn in."They're not going to turn in yet, sir," I told him; "they are going to have a sardine supper in the ward room.""Umph! Good idea that! 'Willum'," he roared, "make me some sardine sandwiches, and put plenty of onions in 'em.""How about sending the steam pinnace inshore with some hot soup for the people in the boats you left behind?" I asked him, after he'd devoured a plateful of sandwiches and had sent Willum for more."No good; couldn't find 'em in the dark. I've stuck 'em right in under the guns, in the middle of the creek which runs up there. They've got to fire a Very's[#] light, if the yacht tries to get away, so tell 'em to keep a good lookout on the bridge."
CHAPTER VIII
The Vigilant Sails Again
The Padré Complains—Mr. Hoffman Returns—Under Way Again—Good News—"Good Old Dicky!"—Mr. Rashleigh's Report—A Unfair Report
The Padré Complains—Mr. Hoffman Returns—Under Way Again—Good News—"Good Old Dicky!"—Mr. Rashleigh's Report—A Unfair Report
The Padré Complains—Mr. Hoffman Returns—Under Way Again—Good News—"Good Old Dicky!"—Mr. Rashleigh's Report—A Unfair Report
Written by Commander Truscott
I had had an extremely busy ten days superintending the fitting out of those junks, and getting them and the gunboats away to their cruising grounds. I think that I had offended pretty nearly everyone in the ship, from the Fleet Surgeon, who disliked parting with so many sick bay stores, to the youngest cadet, who thought that he ought to have been given a chance.
The Skipper was positively in a vile temper all the time, and I, myself, and old Bax, the Fleet Paymaster, who came from the same part of the country as he did, were the only ones who dared to approach him. He simply spat fire whenever anyone spoke to him, and the simplest thing used to bring forth a torrent of oaths, and it was best to beat a hasty retreat.
Don't think that I minded, or anyone else—really. "How's 'Old Lest' this morning?" they would ask, after I had reported morning "divisions" to him, and I must say that I generally had to say "Worse than ever". They would all chuckle at that.
For some reason or other everyone, except the Skipper himself, seemed to be proud of his temper, and the more he roared and swore, the more the men liked him.
"He's the worst-tempered man in the service, I should imagine," the young Padré had remarked one morning, when he and I and Mayhew, the Fleet Surgeon, were walking up and down the quarterdeck, and could hear him storming at "Willum" down below.
"For worst-tempered read best-tempered," Mayhew had replied fierily. "You've only been a 'dog watch' in the service, and when you know something about it, you'll know that you are wrong. Why, man, he's the best Skipper to serve under in the whole blessed navy. Call him bad tempered! Why, great snakes! that's the temper coming out of him instead of being bottled up. It's only fools and rotters who have tempers that don't come out."
I fancy that the Padré's knowledge of human nature was of the slightest, and I also must admit that it was probably very difficult to preach a good sermon to the accompaniment of the Skipper's snores, but he hadn't quite shaken down in his new surroundings.
When he first joined the ship his sermons were full of "my dear brothers", or "dear brethren", and it was as good as a play to see the Skipper's face when he happened to be awake and first heard himself called a "dear brother". I thought he would have had a "fit", and after church he stalked down below without saying a word, Blucher at his heels, and sent for me.
Then out it came. He had bottled it up for nearly twenty minutes, and he pretty well excelled himself. "That little—little—whipper—snapper call 'Old Lest' his 'dear brother'! Don't let him come near 'Old Lest'. I'll 'dear brother' him if he does it again!" and he glared at me and shook his huge fists in my face absolutely unable to say anything more.
"Very good, sir; I will speak to the Chaplain," I had answered, and fled.
For some reason or other I forgot to do so, but, after lunch that morning, the younger people in the mess spread him out on the sofa, very gently, and sat on him. I happened to go into the ward room at the moment, and found eight of them and Old Bax in a heap, with bits of the young idiot showing out here and there under them, and heard them sing out, "Here's another dear brother," as they bumped him and he gasped for breath, and implored them to leave off. I slipped back to my cabin, and, as I expected, there was a knock at my door a few minutes afterwards, and in he came, very dishevelled, and complained of the indignity.
"You surprise me, Padré," I told him. "I can only say that I happened to go to the mess, and saw you 'scrapping' with your brother officers in the most unbecoming manner, and endeavouring, as far as I could make out, to break up the mess furniture. I trust that such conduct will not occur again."
He got very red and confused, and was going away, when I called him back: "Of course, Padré, you must remember that if they do dislike any of your expressions, you often enough complain of some of theirs, and I should advise you to humour them. It's often a great effort on their part to humour you, and you should be proud that they do try. I will speak to them, but strongly advise you to drop the 'dear brother' part of the show."
I'm glad to say that he did, and eventually became quite proud of relating the bumping incident as "a stepping-stone in my education for a life so strange, and at one period so apparently uncongenial, ah!"
As a matter of fact, he was always called "dear brother" after that, so never had the chance to forget it. To come back to my yarn, the absence of three watch-keepers and so many petty officers and men, to say nothing of the midshipmen, made it difficult enough to carry on the ordinary work of the ship. This was a constant source of irritation to Lawrence, Whitmore, and myself, and above all, there was the added overwhelming anxiety at the fate of Travers, Sally, and her father. It was now five weeks since they had disappeared, and I assure you that these weeks had only increased our anxiety and the feeling of utter helplessness at our inability to discover their whereabouts and rescue them. Somewhere, but whether north, south, east, or west, we had not the faintest notion, they were waiting for a sign of our coming, and every evening, as the sun set and the dark clouds and grey twilight shut out the islands all round us and wrapped them in darkness, the feeling of depression used to become still more acute, and we used to imagine them beginning another dreary night of waiting, and longing, and praying that the morning would bring them rescue, which we all knew it wouldn't. These things, and the want of exercise on shore, were excuses sufficient to account for any irritability of temper.
The Skipper used to tramp the quarterdeck from after "evening quarters" till sunset, but then the sight of the long skeins of ducks, geese, and swans flighting across the harbour to the mud flats round some of the smaller islands used to drive him down below. He used to growl: "Umph! That's what 'Old Lest' came down here to do, to shoot 'em, and he's only made a fool of himself so far. Umph!" and he'd send "Willum" round for three of us to go aft to make up a rubber of whist.
But at last the long period of inaction came to an end. One morning, just a week after theRingdoveand her two junks had left, I had turned out with the hands, and was walking up and down till my servant had made my morning cup of tea, the quarterdeck men scrubbing and holystoning round me in the dismal light.
I noticed a little native sailing boat beating up to Tinghai, and I remember that I thought it strange for so small a boat to have been out at night time. As it came towards the harbour, I watched it idly through my telescope, and presently saw that there were three men in it—a Chinaman steering and two people pulling lee oars, one a Chinaman and—I looked again to make sure—the other a tall gaunt fellow with a shaggy black beard. "That's a rum go," I thought, and was still more surprised when I saw them lower the sail—they were directly to leeward of us—and begin to pull straight towards theVigilant.
"What on earth's going to happen now?" I thought, as the boat crept alongside, the men pulling very feebly. The gaunt European half crawled up the ladder and advanced towards me, and for a moment I did not recognize him.
"Hoffman!" he said.
Good heavens! I recognized him then, even with that black beard, and with his face sunken and starved looking. "We thought you'd been burnt," I said, holding out my hand, as he tottered on to the quarterdeck.
"Give me some drink and food, and those men too," he gasped; and I led him down below to my cabin—I thought he would have fallen down the hatchway, he was so weak. Fortunately my servant had just brought my tea and some bread and butter, and he drank and ate as if he had not touched food for a week.
I sent for another plate of bread and butter, and when he had finished that, and drunk all my tea and two tumblers full of water, he didn't wait for me to ask him any questions, but, clutching at the chair, and with a wild look in his eyes, began, "For God's sake, Commander, get the Captain to start at once! I know where Hobbs and his daughter are, or were, six days ago, and if you are quick you may rescue them before they can be hurried off somewhere else."
"Good heavens, man! and Travers, do you know where he is too?" I shouted, jumping up.
"Yes, I do; but he's not with them," he answered.
"Is she safe?" I asked eagerly; and he nodded, "Yes; up to the present."
"How the dickens did you escape being burnt? We've actually read the funeral service over the ruins of the Mission."
"Wait," he half moaned. "Go and tell your Captain I am here, and give me a cigarette—I haven't tasted one for a month."
I woke the Skipper. "That German, Hoffman, has come aboard, sir. Says he knows where Sally is and Travers."
"What?" roared the Skipper, opening his eyes.
"That German chap Hoffman has come aboard, sir."
"Well, don't wake me," he grunted, not hearing me properly.
"He's that man we thought had been burnt in the Mission House. He knows where Hobbs and Sally and Travers are," I repeated in a louder voice; and he jumped out of his bunk, swearing angrily, "Why didn't you tell me before?" and roared for "Willum" to help him dress. "Bring him aft in five minutes' time," he growled.
"For goodness sake, don't suggest anything to him! Don't attempt to give him any advice," I implored Hoffman. "Ten to one, if you do, he'll put obstacles in the way. Just tell him what you know, and nothing more."
"I'll remember," he said wearily, as I took him aft. He had to steady himself with one hand on my shoulder, he was so weak; his clothes simply hung in loose folds.
I slipped away and turned out Hutton, our Engineer Commander, telling him what I knew, and that the Skipper would be sending for him in a minute or two. In fact, he hardly pulled his trousers over his pyjamas before he was sent for. "How long will it take to get up steam?" I asked him, as I helped him on with his monkey jacket. "An hour; we're still under banked fires—have been all the time," and then I went round, turning everyone out. It was such a godsend to have at last some news to tell.
"D'they know where Mr. Travers and the pretty little lady be, sir?" the captain of the quarterdeck asked me; and I heard him tell his men, and they left off scrubbing to discuss the situation. "Little lady or no little lady," he sang out, "just you go on with your 'olystoning."
In less than half an hour we had steam on the capstan, and were shortening in the cable, and in another hour were under way. It was glorious to feel the engines moving round again and the beastly steam steering gear rattling under my cabin once more, and to know that at last our long six weeks of inaction were at an end.
There wasn't a long face or a sour face in the ship that day.
The Skipper had filled his pockets with his beloved Havanas, and pulled one out for me on the fore bridge too—a sure sign that he was in the best of tempers.
"That chap Hoffman couldn't lift a hundredweight now," he chuckled. "I'll take him 'on' when he's had a bit of sleep—the only chance I'll get," and he gurgled and croaked with laughter. "He don't exactly give himself away, does he, Truscott? Couldn't get him to suggest a single thing."
"I told him not to, sir," I said, smiling.
"Umph! Think 'Old Lest' an obstinate old fool, do you? Think you know 'Old Lest' better'n he knows himself, do you? That's the worst of having a commander who's been shipmates for seven years. Umph!" And he glared at me, and was in a grand humour.
As a matter of fact, there were several reasons which made it inconvenient to leave so hurriedly. For one thing, we were, as you know, very shorthanded, and for another, we expected the gunboats to return at any moment with their tenders, and it would, at the best, be a tedious business to call them all in. Fortunately we met the oldHuan Minpounding back to Tinghai for more coal; judging by the smoke she made she seemed to grind it into dust and then blow it up her funnel. We stopped her, and the Skipper sent on board to tell her Captain where theVigilantwas going, and to ask him to communicate with the other gunboats, and with theOmaha, which had gone off by herself.
Ching evidently wrote the letter which came back, promising to do this, and he sent a private one to his chum Lawrence to say that they were all immensely pleased to hear that there was a chance of rescuing the captives, and that theHuan Minwould come along after us as soon as possible.
"He says that his shoulder is practically all right again now, sir. He's made a jolly sight less fuss about it than I should have done." Lawrence smiled when he'd finished reading this letter. "I wonder how much he cares whether we ever see Hobbs or Travers again? He doesn't hurry the oldHuan Minround these islands to find them, I bet you anything you like, sir. He's hunting for Sally. He's simply head over heels in love with her."
"More power to his elbow," I said. "We all are, more or less."
We had left orders for the gunboats to follow us—left them with Macpherson the missionary, so felt sure that they would fetch up, sooner or later, even if theHuan Minmissed them.
The island for which we were now steering was right away in the SE. corner of the archipelago, one of a group marked on the chart as the Hector Group (it was so named after a transport which was wrecked there in 1851).
It was there that Hobbs and his daughter were reported to be by Hoffman, and it took the Skipper but a very few minutes to determine that he would go there first and leave Travers till later.
As it happened, by great good fortune, there was no necessity to regret his decision, because just after dark we sighted the lights of a steamer, flashed the "demand" from our masthead lamp, and it turned out to be theRingdoveon the way back to Tinghai. I wasn't on the bridge at the time, and had only just reached the deck after she was reported to me, when I heard men cheering, and a midshipman rushed up, "Mr. Travers is on board, sir, and well, sir! Isn't that grand?"
It's extraordinary how good—and bad—news comes in lumps together, and this seemed suddenly to make me feel ten years younger. I was up that bridge in a "brace of shakes". We had stopped our engines, and theRingdovewas flashing across a long signal, and everyone bent eagerly forward to try and take it in, whilst the signalman wrote it down, and clicked the shutter of his hand lamp to show theRingdovethat he had taken it in correctly.
Most of us were so much out of practice that we only got a word or a number here or there, but enough to know that she and her junks had lost a lot of men. At last theRingdovehad finished, and the signalman brought his signal pad to the Captain.
"Read it out, Truscott; your eyes are younger than mine."
Someone held up a lantern, and I read: "Have rescued Lieutenant Travers uninjured from island of Chung-li Tao Group. No news of whereabouts of Hobbs or daughter. TenderSallysunk by gun fire; tenderFerretwrecked and abandoned, guns saved. Losses—Ringdove, one man wounded, since dead, two wounded;Sally, four[#] men killed, Mid Morton, two men wounded;Ferret, two men killed, five wounded."
[#] Cooke, A.B., had died as a result of his injuries.
"Phew!" whistled the Skipper. "They've had a hot time! Read it again."
I did so.
"Do they mean young Morton's killed or wounded?"
"Ask them."
Click, click went the shutter of the signalman's lamp.
You could not hear a sound whilst theRingdovelight twinkled the reply, and we all gave a gasp of relief when we read—W-O-U-N-D—O-F—S-C-A-L-P—O-U-T—O-F—D-A-N-G-E-R.
"Get 'em all aboard," the Skipper told me; "best send both cutters," and he sent a midshipman running aft. "Tell the Doctor—ten wounded coming fromRingdove."
We signalled across for her to "close", and that we were sending for the wounded and for the rest of the crews of the two junks.
This was a jolly ticklish job, because a rather heavy sea was running; but we ran our searchlights, and I sent Lawrence and Whitmore away in charge of the boats, and we managed to transfer them all without anything happening worse than breaking one or two oars.
We gave Travers a cheer when he came across, and all crowded round and congratulated him; and we cheered Trevelyan, young Rawlings and their men, and Ford and his. They had come over in the first boat, and Rashleigh had come as well—to report personally.
Whilst he was down below I got a list of the names of those killed and wounded from Trevelyan, and had it stuck on the lower deck notice board. Scroggs was a serious loss to me—the captain of the fore top, and a fine reliable man—and the others were all good men; they wouldn't have been sent there, of course, if they hadn't been.
Ford and his six men had lost everything except what they stood up in, but every one of them was in the best of spirits. The second cutter came along-side with the wounded, and young Morton was the first to be carried up the ladder, managed a smile from under his bandages, and we gave him a cheer.
The mids who'd been left behind sang out, "Good old Dicky". I knew perfectly well that he had been called "Dear Little Dicky", and that the inoffensive, harmless little chap hated it, and was glad to hear them drop it for once. I knew a good many more of the "ins and outs" of what went on in the gunroom than the Mids used to give me credit for.
The rest of the wounded were carried up, or hobbled up the ladder, and they all went for'ard to the sick bay.
Then Rashleigh went back, simply bubbling over with importance and excitement, the Skipper actually coming up to see him over the side. He didn't often pay anyone under the rank of post captain that compliment.
"I thought that chap a blooming blockhead—told you so often—but he's done a jolly sight better than I gave him credit for; that he has, Truscott, that he has. And he's found a place where they're as thick as thieves—big guns mounted, and all that. I've sent him back to keep his eye on it. Jolly smart chap! Things are just coming along now, eh? They'll find 'Old Lest' ain't such a fool as they think, eh?"
"We've made a good start, sir, although we've lost rather heavily."
"Put up a subscription list, Truscott; some of those men have left families. Stick me down for twenty-five 'thick 'uns'. It's more than 'Old Lest' can afford, but stick 'em down. If the Admiralty don't pay for those junks, and the others get knocked about or lost as well, 'Old Lest' 'll find himself in the Bankruptcy Court, umph!"
"Make a signal: Captain Lester to Captain, officers, and men of theRingdove.
"The Captain, officers, and men of theVigilantcongratulate you on the plucky rescue of Lieutenant Travers and the two junks' crews."
He sent for'ard to tell the Fleet Surgeon to let him know directly he could come down to see the wounded, and then stalked along the upper deck to the bridge, swinging his great shoulders and striding down an admiring lane of men, who made a gangway and stood to attention as he passed. You could see, even by the little light there was, how they worshipped him.
We hoisted in our boats and steamed off towards our island, the littleRingdoveturning back to hers and signalling, "Captain, officers, and men," to ditto. "Thank you very much. We are very proud to have the honour of serving under your orders."
That pleased the Skipper—the last part, I mean—for he was simply a huge simple-minded baby, and he grunted, and puffed at his cigar.
"He's tickled to death with that," Lawrence whispered to me. "Old Rashleigh knows how to get the soft side of him, doesn't he?"
Rashleigh had brought over a written report of his proceedings, a copy of which I give you, so that you may draw your own conclusions. He had not had time to finish it properly, and I hardly think that he could have read it over either, after having written it.
May7th.
SIR,—In pursuance of your orders, I have the honour to report that I towed the two tenders, theFerret, Lieutenant Trevelyan, and theSally, Midshipman Ford, to a position five miles to wind'ard (the wind being SSW.) of the Chung-li Tao Islands, arriving there at 8 a.m. on the 2nd May.
At 10 a.m. I despatched theSallyto search to the east'ard, and theFerretto the west'ard, and repaired to a rendezvous to leeward of them, giving them instructions which should meet any probable eventualities which might arise.
I waited at the rendezvous till the morning of the 4th May, and then sighted theSally, and ordered her to come alongside. She reported that she had three men killed, Mid Morton and two A.B.'s severely wounded, and that she was much damaged by shot above the water line. She had chased a pirate junk and sunk her, but had then most unwisely attacked four others, and only escaped with the above losses. Her Maxim gun had been destroyed, and she had expended practically all her six-pounder ammunition.
Mr. Ford also reported having met the tenderFerretthe night before, and that Mr. Trevelyan, contrary to my orders, had at once altered course to the island where theSallyhad been attacked. The wind had veered to NW. by N. during the night, and was now blowing a strong breeze. As it was therefore impossible for him to beat back to me under three days, I took the wounded on board my ship, buried two of his men at sea, and steamed towards the island and channel in which Mr. Ford had engaged the four junks. TheSallyfollowed me at all speed.
I arrived off the entrance to the channel at noon of next day, and on entering it was fired at by a two-gun battery at close range. One shot came aboard me and wounded two men—one, Edward Larking, ord. sea. No. 867037, has since died. I silenced these guns, and proceeding up the channel, discovered that Mr. Trevelyan had wrecked his junk at the entrance to a small creek, and was in a desperate position, being attacked by rifle fire from both sides of the creek.
I made a hasty exploration of the creek, and found that a quarter of a mile inland it opened out, and that anchored there were a number of war junks, and a very large number of merchant junks.
I determined to attack, but first deemed it necessary to survey the channel, which operation was successfully performed, under a heavy fire, by Sub-lieutenant Harrow, who worked with great coolness, and lost one man wounded.
By the time the channel was reported as being sufficiently deep to allow the passage of theRingdove, it was dusk, and I determined to take her in at daybreak of the following day. Meanwhile I transferred the guns and most of the stores of theFerretto my ship.
At daybreak I weighed, and was at once fired upon by a gun, mounted on the cliffs three hundred feet above my head, to which it was impossible to reply.
I immediately recognized that it would, under the circumstances, be impossible to force the entrance, and stood off, ordering theSallyto follow me.
She was, however, struck by a large shot or shell, and commenced to sink, and I had only sufficient time to bring off her crew, and could not save any of her stores.
The cutter which brought off her crew sighted a man on the rocks, who semaphored that he was Lieutenant Travers, and most pluckily brought him off under a heavy fire.
I then altered course for Tinghai with the crews of my tenders on board.
My officers and crew behaved with gallantry and coolness under trying circumstances.
S. T. RASHLEIGH,Lieut. and Commander.
Senior Officer, Chusan Archipelago.
It was no doubt written hurriedly and finished off abruptly after sighting theVigilant; but from what I learned afterwards, hardly gave a correct, or rather fair account of the doings of his tenders.
I was rather amused by young Ford coming to my cabin next morning. He had a boat's ensign under his arm, looked very sheepish, and wanted to know if he might keep it. "The signalman of theSallyborrowed it, sir, and hoisted it, without my knowing, whilst we were fighting those junks—he didn't know that it was against orders—and I do want to take it home 'so badly'."
I told him to run and hide it, and he could not have been more pleased.
CHAPTER IX
Mr. Hoffman's Secret
Bored Travers—Bored Travers Continues—"Old Lest" in Form—"We've Got 'em at Last"—A Dirty Night—"Old Lest" Unfolds a Tale—Mr. Hoffman's Tale—"Old Lest" and Hoffman—A Marvellous Old Chap
Bored Travers—Bored Travers Continues—"Old Lest" in Form—"We've Got 'em at Last"—A Dirty Night—"Old Lest" Unfolds a Tale—Mr. Hoffman's Tale—"Old Lest" and Hoffman—A Marvellous Old Chap
Bored Travers—Bored Travers Continues—"Old Lest" in Form—"We've Got 'em at Last"—A Dirty Night—"Old Lest" Unfolds a Tale—Mr. Hoffman's Tale—"Old Lest" and Hoffman—A Marvellous Old Chap
Written by Commander Truscott
At the time of parting company with theRingdovethe weather was extremely unpleasant—heavy rain squalls and a bitterly cold northerly wind—but it was snug enough down below, and, to celebrate the return of Travers, we gave him a great dinner in the ward room.
It is hardly necessary to tell you that we were all in the very brightest spirits, and spent a most jovial and riotous evening—all except, funnily enough, Travers himself. He was always a bit bored at these shows, and "turned in" early, only too glad to find himself once more in his own bunk. He was known throughout the fleet as Bored-Travers, or "B.-T.", his full surname being Gore-Travers, and was rather a weird chap, with a superior, supercilious, "Bond-Street-on-a-swagger-morning air" about him, which, somehow or other, gave everyone the idea that he looked "down" upon everybody else. You couldn't help liking him, however, for all that. I had never seen him enthusiastic about anything except a pretty girl or a game of cricket, and now after dinner he looked bored to distraction, leant wearily against a stanchion, and told Lawrence and the others his yarn. It was like drawing teeth out of a horse, to get him to tell anything at all.
"Oh! that night, um! Oh yes! I remember. One of those Mission native chaps got hold of me when I'd got inside the gates—couldn't shake him off—too much bore altogether, you fellows. He was so jolly earnest, I just went along with him. He said something about Old Hobbs and his daughter being carried away, or something. I had to go, you know—had never seen the girl—all you fellows said she was pretty—forgot 'A' company wasn't coming along too."
He stopped in the most irritating way to fill his pipe. "Same beastly old tobacco in the mess—can't get it to draw—never could."
"Didn't you find them, and have a scrap down there on the beach?" Trevelyan asked. "There was a Chinaman down there—dead, with a Webley revolver bullet in him."
"Did I kill him?" he asked, without the faintest display of interest. "I knew the beastly revolver would go off some day and hurt someone. Someone took it away after that—lots of them—shoved a beastly cloth over my head, and shoved me into a boat. They seemed to want me to stay still, so I did."
"Did they knock you about much?" "Didn't you see Sally?" several asked, and Trevelyan very eagerly added, "How many boats did you see? We thought there were three. We saw the keel marks of three in the mud."
He seemed quite amused at their eagerness.
"Well, you chaps, I think they must have knocked me on the head. I didn't remember much about it—didn't see anything I could swear to—rather fancy, though, there were two boats, and, now you mention it, that I did hear a girl's scream just before. Don't remember anything else till I woke up, with a beastly headache, and a mouth like a limekiln, in a jolly sight better cabin than I've got on board here."
"That must have been Hobbs's yacht! What happened then?"
"Nothing at all—couldn't shave—had forgotten to bring my razors and" (yawning) "my dressing case with me—there wasn't a towel there, or water even—and there they kept me till they shoved me ashore, where young Ford found me."
"Ford?" I said, chipping in. "I thought Rashleigh did that." The Skipper had just shown me his report.
"Rashleigh! No, sir. He was shoving out of it as hard as he could go. Young Ford came along and picked me off—he and the rest of his junk's crew—in theRingdove'scutter. The Chinamen wasted a lot of good ammunition over the lot of us, and I'd have made 'em pay for it if I'd been in" (yawning) "charge of 'em.
"Plucky chap that," he went on placidly, ordering the marine servant to bring him more sugar for his coffee. "I told him so. Hope it won't make him more conceited than he is.
"How about that Chinese cove who came along with me in theRingdove!" he asked, with some little display of interest.
"He's all right, B.-T.," someone said. "Came aboard with the wounded."
"Um! I thought I'd given him the slip. Promised him a hundred dollars for getting me out of it, and" (yawning several times) "I haven't got a hundred cents in the world."
"That's all right. You've got your last month's pay due to you," Old Bax growled impatiently. "But, man alive, shove on with your yarn."
Travers simply opened his eyes a little more widely, looked amusedly at him, and yawned again.
"What did you do all the time?" "Give you decent grub?" "Did you see the boss of the show?" Questions simply poured in, but he languidly helped himself to more sugar, and stirred his coffee.
"Why the dickens can't our cook make better stuff than this? The grub was beastly, and I grew a beastly beard, and everything was" (yawning) "beastly. There was a chap there—an old Scotch engineer fellow—seemed to belong to the show—came across to yarn once or twice—said he was tired of having no one to talk to—but he bored me, so didn't come often."
"Weren't you excited when you heard the firing?" the young Padré asked.
"Interested," Travers drawled; "I'm never excited—just interested," and he put on his most superior look, and the young Padré retired in confusion. "There was a bit of a shindy—guns, and all that—about a week after I'd been there. It was rather interesting—at any rate the coves there thought so."
I remembered now that Rashleigh had reported having heard the sound of guns in the direction of the Chung-li Tao Group about that time, and had had his head snapped off by the Skipper for his pains. He may have been right, after all. "What happened? Who were firing?" I asked.
"I don't know, sir; think they must have had a bit of a 'pick up' among themselves. I did mention it to the old Scotchman, but he wasn't giving anything away just then, and I never thought of asking him again."
"Was he a prisoner too?" I asked. He was very irritating.
"Oh no! Think he bossed the show—when he was sober. Told me one day that they'd sent the Old Yank and Sally somewhere, where we'd never find them. Seemed to know a good deal about it, and seemed sorry for the girl too."
"I'm going to turn in now, you fellows, if you don't mind. Thank you very much, but I haven't slept in a bed for six" (yawning) "weeks," and he stretched himself and yawned again and went away.
Trevelyan disappeared with him and came back triumphantly. He had that glove which we had picked up behind the Mission House. "We were right, after all, sir! That was his glove, and he had borrowed Lawrence's handkerchief. I've got that much out of him. He says he'll never stuff a handkerchief up his sleeve again. He'd given a couple of pounds" (if there had been anyone to borrow from) "not to have dropped it."
"It's the first thing I've ever got back after he once borrowed it," Lawrence sang out, and we all laughed with him.
The Skipper came in presently (Hoffman had been dining with him, but had turned in directly afterwards), and we dragged Old Bax, the Fleet Paymaster, to the piano and made him sing, "Tam Pearce, Tam Pearce, bring me my grey mare"; and the Skipper joined in the chorus and smoked, and Old Bax "cadged" his best cigars from him and smoked them, one after another. The Skipper grunted and growled, and was redder in the face than ever, took off his mess jacket and loosened his braces, and beat everyone else at feats of strength, and was as happy as a sand-boy. He went down into the gunroom to say a few words, as he put it, and I went with him. He squeezed himself in, and, as they all stood up, growled out, "Umph! Sit down, please! 'Old Lest' will give you all a show—later on. If those two steamers are there when we get in to-morrow afternoon, umph! we'll go in and sink 'em. If there ain't enough water for the boats, we'll swim" (huge yells of delight). "Good night, gentlemen; three of you have done a bit of fighting, the Fleet Surgeon hopes to get Morton off the sick list in a day or two, and I hope you others will do as well. Umph! You can have half an hour's extra lights."
They made a perfect deafening noise, gave three cheers and a "tiger", and then he came back to the ward room, and stayed there till after midnight—the youngest of the lot of us—he and Old Bax chaffing each other in broad West Country dialect. Old Bax had "wiped his eye", the last time they had gone shooting, by bagging a woodcock which the Skipper had missed with both barrels, and never lost an opportunity of reminding him of it.
Whitmore and I slipped away long before the ward room singsong was finished, and the ship quiet again, because we had to make all arrangements for manning and arming boats if necessary. You see, we had so many seaman ratings away, that it was rather difficult to fill their places.
Hoffman had his breakfast in his cabin, and spent two hours alone with the Skipper during the morning, and I did not see him again till we were nearing the Hector Group late in the afternoon. He then came up and helped Lawrence pick his way among the islands towards the one where he said that Hobbs and Sally were imprisoned.
We all hoped to discover the tramp steamer and the yacht anchored there, but very much feared that the prisoners might have been spirited away again in one or other of them. The anxiety grew greater as we drew nearer, and was shared by every soul on board, for everyone knew by this time all that I myself knew.
It struck me as peculiar how intimate and accurate was Hoffman's knowledge of the local pilotage. There seemed to be some strange "bond" between him and the Skipper, and I felt sure, from the Skipper's manner to him, and from his silence to me, that there was something which I did not know, and which would explain a good many things when I did know it.
One thing indeed the Captain had told me, blurting it out when I reported "defaulters" to him, and found him and Hoffman together. "Hoffman tells me that that rascally Englishman, who sold that yacht of his to Hobbs, is bossing this show. He's hanging on to Hobbs and Sally, and trying to force the poor little lass to marry him—umph! or make her father pay a pretty penny. He'll skin him out pretty thoroughly, I'll be bound."
"If you don't get hold of her quickly, Captain, I believe she'll consent," Hoffman said.
"Just to save old man Hobbs's dollars, eh? Poor little lass, eh?" the Skipper grunted.
"Partly that and partly because he is such a handsome, dare-devil scoundrel, that I don't think she'd be unwilling;" and Hoffman moaned and buried his face in his hands. He was still as weak as a rat, and couldn't control his feelings.
"Poor little soul!" the Skipper said softly. "God help us to get her out of his clutches!"
At about five bells (2.30 p.m.) in the afternoon we eventually sighted the island, a low irregular line on the horizon right ahead, a gloomy enough prison under its dark sullen banks of rain clouds. The wind had gone down during the morning watch, and the sea was fairly smooth, but the rain still came down mercilessly, and everything was dripping with moisture and extremely uncomfortable. "Masthead lookout!" roared the Skipper from the fore bridge, "keep your eye lifting for two steamers lying under the land," and to assist him sent up the sharpest eyed signalman.
In spite of the drenching downpour, the fo'c'stle and under the fore bridge was crowded with men, all their eyes glued on the land as we very slowly forged towards it through the muddy yellow water. I don't suppose that there was a single field glass or telescope in the ship not in use.
Then there came a yell from the masthead which made us all look up. "Yes, sir, I can see them—two steamers under the land, right ahead, sir;" and we all stared ahead, and in a few minutes could see them ourselves, and, quite without orders, everyone cheered and waved his cap, looking up at the Skipper from the fo'c'stle to see whether he was looking happy. The cheers were as much for sighting the steamers as for knowing that now "Old Lest" would have a chance of paying off old scores, and the Skipper, looking bigger than ever in his dripping tarpaulins, roared out to ask me if I'd ever been aboard a man-of-war before, and knew what discipline was; so I sent my midshipman down to stop the noise.
"Umph! Truscott, we've got 'em at last;" and he slowly dug his fingers into the palms of his hands, as if he was crushing something, glared at me, and shook them in my face.
We slowly steamed along, till we took soundings under six fathoms, and then anchored. "Can't go in any farther," I heard Hoffman tell Lawrence, and again wondered how he had picked up all this knowledge.
The cable had scarcely finished rattling out before the Skipper, turning to me, said, "Man and arm boats, Commander; I'll go in directly. Old Lest ain't going to let grass grow under his feet."
"We've only got about two hours more daylight, sir," I told him, thinking that there was scarcely time for the boats to get ashore.
"Umph!" he growled, and went down below.
In forty minutes I'd got them all away, the steam pinnace, with the Skipper and Hoffman aboard, towing the launch and sailing pinnace, and the steam cutter towing the barge and the two cutters. We were so short of men that Marshall and his marines had to man the sailing pinnace, and very few men were left aboard to give them a cheer as they shoved off, only about half a dozen seamen, a few marines, and the stokers.
I had thought of keeping Trevelyan on board, but the Skipper growled out, "Send him in with me. 'Old Lest's' brain's not as sharp as it was. He'll smell out something."
It was still raining hard, but the sea remained smooth. Personally, I thought it rather unwise not to wait for the morning; but the Skipper was so anxious not to give the pirates a moment's rest, and to start by sinking those steamers or driving them ashore—to do anything, in fact, to prevent them escaping—that the risk was probably worth taking. The steam pinnace had her fourteen-inch torpedo dropping gear fitted, and the Skipper's main idea was to blow holes in the steamer and the yacht, and so effectually to prevent them moving. Once more, it was not so much our chief object to destroy the pirates or recapture the yacht, as to rescue the little American girl and her father. We hoped that we had now found where they were concealed, and our first object was to prevent them being smuggled away again.
We kept the boats in view till they disappeared in the gathering dusk and the heavy rain, and then could only wait for them to return. It was so cold on deck, that I went down to warm myself in front of the ward room fire. Mayhew, the Fleet Surgeon, was sitting cosily in front of it, and made room for me. "Heard or seen anything?" he asked. "I shall have them all on the sick list if they ever do come back. I've never seen a night I should less like to spend in an open boat."
I hadn't been there five minutes, when the quartermaster came clattering down from the quarterdeck in his dripping oilskins and sea boots. "We can see some flashes ashore, sir. I think our boats are firing as well, sir."
Both of us ran on deck. Several dull "booms" gave us the direction in which to look, and every now and again we could see the twinkle of a gun flash a very long way off, generally a single one, then perhaps two or three quickly, one after the other. It was just as if someone a hundred yards away was striking matches, which the wind blew out as they were struck. The reports came along a few seconds later, and among them we could hear quite distinct sharp cracks. These were from our boats' guns, I expect. In spite of it being so wet, every soul on board was on deck, staring through the darkness and the incessant rain, to try and make out the boats returning. We ran a searchlight, throwing the beams vertically upwards to guide them, and could do no more. This beam lighted up the raindrops, and made everything even more depressing than it was before.
I only wish that all men were obliged to supply themselves with oilskins or thick pea-jackets, for, as it was, hardly one in twenty away in those open boats had them, and I could imagine pretty plainly the state they were in now.
By ten o'clock there was no sign of them whatever, and I was very anxious. Midnight came (I don't know what foolhardy ideas hadn't occurred to me in the meantime), and shortly afterwards we heard the sound of more guns, and a muffled, long-drawn-out "boom", which made me almost jump out of my skin, my nerves were so very much on the stretch. "That's a torpedo, sir," the signalman said. I didn't much care what it was; I really was so thankful to know that they were still in existence.
The noises ceased almost immediately, and I again trusted that they were on their return journey. A long, dreary wait followed, and then one of the people on the bridge spotted flames from the steam pinnace's funnel. We watched them flicker out every now and again, drawing steadily nearer, and I sent down to Mayhew to have everything ready in case there were any wounded. Presently she came close enough to hail, and to see that she was towing the launch, sailing pinnace, the barge, and the cutter. She had a good deal of "list" to port, and I thought at first that she must have been damaged, but then saw, as she rounded up to come alongside, that she had dropped her starboard torpedo, which accounted for it. The boats ran alongside, and the Skipper came up the gangway.
"What luck, sir?" I asked him. "Where's the steam cutter and the second cutter? Anyone hurt, sir?"
His face was purple blue with the cold, but he was in the highest spirits. "Blown a hole in that tramp steamer; made the little yacht run up inside the creek. That's a good beginning for 'Old Lest', eh? Haven't had a man touched, and left the second cutter and the steam cutter inshore to come off at daybreak. Got the galley fires alight?" he asked, before he went below. "The men are pretty well dead with the cold and the wet."
"I'd thought of that, sir," I told him; "they shall have some hot cocoa and pea soup directly they have fallen out."
I had never seen such a washed-out crowd of people as clambered on board that night. Even though those in the boats had pulled their oars on the way off to the ship, they were simply blue and shivering and stiff. You may guess that I got all the gear replaced, and the men dismissed to their messes as quickly as possible.
When I went in to report to the Captain, he was standing in front of his blazing fire in a thick dressing gown. He had a great bowl of pea soup in his hands, and Blucher was leaning up against his legs. "Umph! that's good," he said, smacking his lips and rubbing himself. "Warms one's inside, eh?" and he roared to "Willum" to bring his eighteenpenny Havanas, and made me smoke one: I should have very much preferred a pipe.
"Willum" had been sent round to collect all those officers who had been away, and they came trooping in in all kinds of rigs, all looking jolly pleased with themselves, and Willum served them out hot drinks, and the Skipper said, "Here's luck to the little lass and the oldVig," and when they were thoroughly warm sent them all away to turn in.
"They're not going to turn in yet, sir," I told him; "they are going to have a sardine supper in the ward room."
"Umph! Good idea that! 'Willum'," he roared, "make me some sardine sandwiches, and put plenty of onions in 'em."
"How about sending the steam pinnace inshore with some hot soup for the people in the boats you left behind?" I asked him, after he'd devoured a plateful of sandwiches and had sent Willum for more.
"No good; couldn't find 'em in the dark. I've stuck 'em right in under the guns, in the middle of the creek which runs up there. They've got to fire a Very's[#] light, if the yacht tries to get away, so tell 'em to keep a good lookout on the bridge."