Chapter Thirteen.How there was a startling Surprise.“What in the world is that?” cried Gregory.“That sir?” said the major importantly. “That was the report of a gun.”“Good gracious, man, I know that,” said the mate.“There again,” cried Morgan.“Ship firing signals for recall,” said the major. “We are wanted aboard.”“Nonsense, sir!” said Gregory tartly. “We have no guns that would make such a report as that. What?”This last was to Morgan, who whispered something to him excitedly.“Pooh! nonsense, man!” cried Gregory again. Just then there was another shot, and another, and the first-mate’s face turned of a muddy hue.“It’s fighting, as sure as I’m a soldier,” said the major nodding his head.“You’re right, Morgan,” said the first-mate hoarsely.“Come along, quick! There’s something wrong aboard the ship.”“Aboard our ship—thePetrel?” cried Mark, with a curious choking sensation coming upon him, and his heart beating rapidly.“There, don’t turn like that, my lad,” said Morgan kindly, as he clapped the lad on the shoulder. “We only fancy there may be something wrong, and I hope we have been deceived.”“Do you think there will be a fight, Gregory?” said the major excitedly.“Heaven forbid, sir!” said the first-mate solemnly.“What are you talking about, sir? and you all the time with a double gun in your fist. Why, it warms the very blood in my veins.”“You see I’m not a fighting man, sir,” said Gregory sternly. “Yes,” he continued, as he saw the major give him a peculiar look, and reading his meaning, “you’re quite right, sir, I am white, and I feel afraid—horribly afraid, as I think of what may be happening to those poor women left on board, and my poor captain and our men.”“And I forgot all about my wife and child,” cried the major, increasing his pace, as he wiped the perspiration from his brow. “Come on, gentlemen, for heaven’s sake!”They were already going along at a double, where the rough river-bed would allow, but the progress was very slow, while, though they had come along leisurely, it was astounding how great a distance they had placed between them and the boat.“For heaven’s sake, come on, gentlemen!” said the major again, and at another time his remark would have seemed very Irish and droll, for he was last but one in the little party, and hard pressed to keep up in the intense heat of the inclosed and stifling place.“Ahoy!” came from ahead just then.“Ahoy!” answered the mate, who was leading, with Mark next; and the next minute they were face to face with the four men who had been left with the boat. “What is it, my lads?” he panted.“Pirates, sir, praus!”“Nonsense!” cried the mate fiercely.“’Strue as true, sir. We was all half dozing in the boat when we heared a shot, and saw a prau alongside of the old Chicken, and another running up fast, and then there were more firing went on.”“And we ashore!” muttered the mate. “Keep on, my men. What next?”“Don’t know, sir,” panted the spokesman; “we come on after you, sir.”“And left the boat?”“She’s got the grapnel out, sir, on the sands.”“But the men in the prau—they could see her.”“Oh, yes, sir; they could see her, sir.”“Man, man! what have you done? They will fetch her off and we shall be unable to follow.”“Don’t blame the man, Gregory, but keep on. We may be in time to save her. Let me go first, I can run.”Mr Morgan sprang to the front, and with his gun at the trail ran on ahead at a pace that seemed marvellous; but Mark followed as rapidly as he could, Mr Gregory next, then the major, and the men in single file.Mark ran on with a horrible feeling of despair growing upon him as he thought of those on board; his heart beat; there was the hot suffocating sensation growing more painful at his throat, and to his misery, in spite of his efforts, the ground was so rough and stone-strewn that he was being left behind, while Mr Morgan had disappeared from his view round one of the sharp turns of the river-bed.All at once he remembered what he had before forgotten, namely, that he was wearing a belt and pouch, and that in the soft leather holster attached there was the revolver his father had lent him.He had never fired such a weapon in his life, but he had seen this one handled and loaded, and taking it out, he hardly knew why in his excitement, he cocked it, and ran on with the piece in his hand.Directly after he found himself close to the low growth through which the little river trickled to lose itself in the sand, and through the opening now broken larger by the passage of so many of his companions he forced his way out and stood upon the sands.The sight which met his eye took from him the power of action for the moment, and he stood there panting, gazing straight away.Out at sea lay the greatPetrelwith a couple of praus alongside, and as far as he could see, in his quick glance, the deck was covered with swarthy figures. But there was a scene being enacted close at hand which made him turn giddy, and the blood seemed to run to his eyes.Mr Morgan had always been a pleasant friend to him from the time of his joining the ship; and now as Mark gazed it was to see him in a peril that promised instant death.Out there in the bright sunshine on the glancing sea lay the gig in which they had come ashore, and every detail in those brief moments seemed to be photographed on the lad’s active brain. The gig was anchored as the men had said, but it was at some distance from the shore to which the men must have waded; and he recollected now how wet they had been. There before him was a small boat of Malay build coming from one of the praus, full of men, some rowing, some standing up with spears in their hands. They were swarthy-looking savages, in plaid sarongs of bright colours, these being twisted tightly about their waists, and in the band thus formed each had a kris stuck, above which the man’s dark naked body glistened in the sun.They were so near that the sun gleamed on their rolling eyes as well as flashed from their spears, two of which were now poised and held by their owners as if about to be hurled.Mark shuddered as he saw all this, and the rest of the picture before him has yet to be described.The boat was evidently coming to secure the gig, and to save this, and to prevent their being left alone and helpless upon this island without the means of communicating with the ship, Mr Morgan was straining every nerve. As Mark came out through the bushes, it was to see the second-mate reach the edge of the water, the sea having gone down some distance, and then he had a hundred yards to wade.How it all happened Mark only knew afterwards from what he was told, but as he grasped the position he stood, as has been said, paralysed, and then in his agony of mind his power of action returned. Running down over the hard sand as quickly as he could, he watched the progress of events, and saw that the second-mate was still some distance from the gig, while the Malays were nearing fast. He was evidently so exhausted that he would not be able to reach the gig first, and as he realised this he paused for a moment, raised his gun and fired at the men.This drew from them a savage yell, which seemed to be echoed from the praus; when as if to intimidate enemies and encourage the men a small gun was fired on board one of the vessels, and a little ball came skipping over the sea, to go crashing into the jungle.Morgan went on a few steps farther and fired again; but though his shots evidently told, the men wincing and one falling, but only to spring up again, the fire did not check their progress, and they were fast nearing the gig.Morgan made another desperate effort to reach it, when first one and then another of the Malays hurled his spear, which went through the air in a low curve.Mark was now at the edge of the shallow water, with a blind feeling of despairing rage urging him on, boy as he was. What he was about to do he did not know himself. All he realised was that he must try and help Mr Morgan, who, as the spears were hurled, fell headlong into the deeper water, which splashed up around him glistening in the sun.At this Mark uttered a groan and once more stopped short, as if paralysed, while, with a yell of triumph at the apparent success of their aim, the Malay boat came on and had nearly reached the gig.But at that moment, as if moved by some other power, Mark raised the revolver and fired point-blank at the advancing boat.Again and then again he fired—three shots—each, as the little weapon uttered its sharp ringing crack, sending a rifled bullet whizzing at the Malays. One ball struck the water before them, and went over their heads; the second passed before them, and the third struck one of the rowers, who leaped up with a yell and fell overboard.This checked the progress of the on-coming boat. But as they dragged their wounded companion back into the boat they uttered another defiant yell, and, in spite of the two remaining shots sent pinging at them without effect, they reached the gig, and one man sprang in to cut the grapnel line.At that moment there was quite a little volley fired from the edge of the jungle, the major and Gregory discharging four barrels at the Malays, and then with a shout they and the six sailors came running down the sands.The man in the gig leaped back into the boat, and as the shots from the fowling-pieces were supplemented by bullets from the men’s pistols the Malays rapidly paddled away, while Mark thrust back his revolver, and waded out to where Mr Morgan was trying to raise himself in the water and kept falling back.“No, no, not much hurt, my lad,” he gasped. “Got the gig ashore? Hah! That’s saved.”He had just caught sight of Gregory’s excited face as he came splashing towards him to pant hoarsely:“That’s right! Hold him a moment and I’ll be back.”He was back directly with the gig, and by that time the men were about him, and the injured man was carried ashore, two of the sailors dragging the gig right up to the sands, upon which Mr Morgan was laid.“Let me look,” said the major, taking out his knife and ripping up the mate’s shirt. “Ah! I see. I’ve had some experience of these things. A nasty cut, my dear boy, but it isn’t wide enough to let out your spirit. You let me put a bandage on it, and I warrant it will soon heal.”“Poisoned, major?” whispered the injured man.“Poisoned, bedad! Nonsense, man. It’s a clean cut in your shoulder, and thank your stars it was there, and not in your chest.”“Look out!” shouted one of the men.His reason was apparent, for one of the praus, seeing that the Malays were going back discomfited, began firing from her brass gun, sending a ball skipping over the water, and it finally dashed high up among the trees.“Bah! let him fire,” said the major scornfully; “they couldn’t hit the Hill o’ Howth, and the safest place to be in is the one they aim at. There, my dear boy, that’s a business-like job, and it’s in your left shoulder. Now, Gregory, what’s to be done?”“We must go off at once in the gig and retake the ship,” said Gregory sternly.“No,” said the major, shaking his head, as he gazed out to where thePetrellay.“Not go, sir, and you’ve got a wife and child on board.”“And I a father and mother,” groaned Mark to himself.“Yes, sir; and I’ve got a wife and child on board,” said the major sadly; “and I want to help them. But I’m a soldier, Mr Gregory, and I’ve learned a little of the art of war, and it isn’t the way to save people in a beleaguered fort to go blindly and throw away your life and that of your men.”“But those on board, sir,” groaned Morgan. “Hadn’t we better share their fate?”“We don’t know their peril yet,” said the major; “but I know this, if anything has happened to my poor wife—and child,” he added softly, “my sword and pistol were in the cabin, and some one or two black scoundrels have gone to the other world to announce what has been done.”“For heaven’s sake, sir, don’t talk,” cried Gregory, who was half frantic with excitement; “what shall we do that is better?”“There’s another shot,” said the major coolly. “Go on, my fine fellows, waste all the powder you can.”This shot was wider than the last, and it was followed by one from the other prau which went farther away still.“What shall we do?” said the major—“by the way, those shot were meant to sink that gig, and they went fifty yards away—Do? Wait and see what the scoundrels go about next.”“But thePetrel?”“Well, they can’t sail that away, sir, in this calm.”“But we must retake her,” said Gregory.“Well, we’ll try,” said the major, “but it must be by cunning, not force. Now, it’s my belief that the captain has intrenched himself in the cabin, and that he will keep the scoundrels at bay till we get to him.”“It’s my belief, sir, that they are all murdered by those cut-throats. They’re Sulu men. I saw two of their praus leave Singapore, and they’ve been on the watch for us. Idiot that I was to come away. Ah, Mark, my lad, I didn’t mean you to hear that,” he added, as he saw the lad’s ashy face.“And he’s all wrong. Erin-go-bragh!” cried the major; “there, what did I say: that’s the captain speaking, I’ll swear.”For just then a series of shots were heard from thePetrel, and a faint film of smoke was seen to rise.There was the distant sound of yelling for a time, every shot being followed by a fierce shout, and as the party on the sands tried to realise the conflict going on their feelings were of the most poignant kind.“He’s all right so far,” said the major confidently.“Or beaten,” said the mate.“Beaten, sir? No,” cried the major. “If he had been beaten there would have been yelling to a different tune;” and he whispered in the mate’s ear: “We should have seen the water splash up about the vessel’s stern.”Another shot followed, and then another; but the brass lelahs carried very wildly at that distance, and no harm was done.“Hadn’t we better go off at once, major? There: it is our duty. Come, my lads, in with you.”“Stop!” shouted the major fiercely. “Mr Gregory, we can only succeed in doing good by being sensible. What you propose is rash folly. Counter-order that command, sir, and as soon as it is night we’ll see what can be done.”The mate hesitated between an eager desire to afford help and the feeling that the major’s science-taught ideas were right.“Stop, my lads,” he said sadly; “the major’s right, but I ask you to bear witness, Morgan, that I do this unwillingly.”“The major is quite right,” said Morgan, sitting up, his brow knit with pain. “Mark, my lad, we have you to thank for saving the gig.”“Oh, nonsense, Mr Morgan,” said the lad.“It’s quite right,” he said; “and I believe you saved my life too. At all events, you gave the others time to get up and stop them. Without a boat we should have been helpless.”“Hah! he’d make a capital soldier,” said the major, as he shaded his eyes with his hand. “Now, then, Mr Gregory, can your lads get the gig right up the sands and into the river-bed yonder?”“Yes, sir.”“Do it, then, for one of the praus is coming on so as to be within reach of the shore, and either land men, or try and shatter the gig. Now, I tell you what: we’ll intrench ourselves a bit, and then when they’re near enough, and I’ve got the barrel resting in a fork of one of these trees, if I can’t pick off a few men with a revolver, my name’s not O’Halloran. Now, then, to work.”The order was given; and as the men ran up the gig, one of the two praus was seen to swing slowly round, and then began to move toward them, with her long sweeps dipping regularly in the calm blue sunlit sea, while at that moment, forgotten till then, Bruff, the dog, came limping over the sand, after a laborious journey on three legs, to lie down uttering a low whine at his master’s feet.
“What in the world is that?” cried Gregory.
“That sir?” said the major importantly. “That was the report of a gun.”
“Good gracious, man, I know that,” said the mate.
“There again,” cried Morgan.
“Ship firing signals for recall,” said the major. “We are wanted aboard.”
“Nonsense, sir!” said Gregory tartly. “We have no guns that would make such a report as that. What?”
This last was to Morgan, who whispered something to him excitedly.
“Pooh! nonsense, man!” cried Gregory again. Just then there was another shot, and another, and the first-mate’s face turned of a muddy hue.
“It’s fighting, as sure as I’m a soldier,” said the major nodding his head.
“You’re right, Morgan,” said the first-mate hoarsely.
“Come along, quick! There’s something wrong aboard the ship.”
“Aboard our ship—thePetrel?” cried Mark, with a curious choking sensation coming upon him, and his heart beating rapidly.
“There, don’t turn like that, my lad,” said Morgan kindly, as he clapped the lad on the shoulder. “We only fancy there may be something wrong, and I hope we have been deceived.”
“Do you think there will be a fight, Gregory?” said the major excitedly.
“Heaven forbid, sir!” said the first-mate solemnly.
“What are you talking about, sir? and you all the time with a double gun in your fist. Why, it warms the very blood in my veins.”
“You see I’m not a fighting man, sir,” said Gregory sternly. “Yes,” he continued, as he saw the major give him a peculiar look, and reading his meaning, “you’re quite right, sir, I am white, and I feel afraid—horribly afraid, as I think of what may be happening to those poor women left on board, and my poor captain and our men.”
“And I forgot all about my wife and child,” cried the major, increasing his pace, as he wiped the perspiration from his brow. “Come on, gentlemen, for heaven’s sake!”
They were already going along at a double, where the rough river-bed would allow, but the progress was very slow, while, though they had come along leisurely, it was astounding how great a distance they had placed between them and the boat.
“For heaven’s sake, come on, gentlemen!” said the major again, and at another time his remark would have seemed very Irish and droll, for he was last but one in the little party, and hard pressed to keep up in the intense heat of the inclosed and stifling place.
“Ahoy!” came from ahead just then.
“Ahoy!” answered the mate, who was leading, with Mark next; and the next minute they were face to face with the four men who had been left with the boat. “What is it, my lads?” he panted.
“Pirates, sir, praus!”
“Nonsense!” cried the mate fiercely.
“’Strue as true, sir. We was all half dozing in the boat when we heared a shot, and saw a prau alongside of the old Chicken, and another running up fast, and then there were more firing went on.”
“And we ashore!” muttered the mate. “Keep on, my men. What next?”
“Don’t know, sir,” panted the spokesman; “we come on after you, sir.”
“And left the boat?”
“She’s got the grapnel out, sir, on the sands.”
“But the men in the prau—they could see her.”
“Oh, yes, sir; they could see her, sir.”
“Man, man! what have you done? They will fetch her off and we shall be unable to follow.”
“Don’t blame the man, Gregory, but keep on. We may be in time to save her. Let me go first, I can run.”
Mr Morgan sprang to the front, and with his gun at the trail ran on ahead at a pace that seemed marvellous; but Mark followed as rapidly as he could, Mr Gregory next, then the major, and the men in single file.
Mark ran on with a horrible feeling of despair growing upon him as he thought of those on board; his heart beat; there was the hot suffocating sensation growing more painful at his throat, and to his misery, in spite of his efforts, the ground was so rough and stone-strewn that he was being left behind, while Mr Morgan had disappeared from his view round one of the sharp turns of the river-bed.
All at once he remembered what he had before forgotten, namely, that he was wearing a belt and pouch, and that in the soft leather holster attached there was the revolver his father had lent him.
He had never fired such a weapon in his life, but he had seen this one handled and loaded, and taking it out, he hardly knew why in his excitement, he cocked it, and ran on with the piece in his hand.
Directly after he found himself close to the low growth through which the little river trickled to lose itself in the sand, and through the opening now broken larger by the passage of so many of his companions he forced his way out and stood upon the sands.
The sight which met his eye took from him the power of action for the moment, and he stood there panting, gazing straight away.
Out at sea lay the greatPetrelwith a couple of praus alongside, and as far as he could see, in his quick glance, the deck was covered with swarthy figures. But there was a scene being enacted close at hand which made him turn giddy, and the blood seemed to run to his eyes.
Mr Morgan had always been a pleasant friend to him from the time of his joining the ship; and now as Mark gazed it was to see him in a peril that promised instant death.
Out there in the bright sunshine on the glancing sea lay the gig in which they had come ashore, and every detail in those brief moments seemed to be photographed on the lad’s active brain. The gig was anchored as the men had said, but it was at some distance from the shore to which the men must have waded; and he recollected now how wet they had been. There before him was a small boat of Malay build coming from one of the praus, full of men, some rowing, some standing up with spears in their hands. They were swarthy-looking savages, in plaid sarongs of bright colours, these being twisted tightly about their waists, and in the band thus formed each had a kris stuck, above which the man’s dark naked body glistened in the sun.
They were so near that the sun gleamed on their rolling eyes as well as flashed from their spears, two of which were now poised and held by their owners as if about to be hurled.
Mark shuddered as he saw all this, and the rest of the picture before him has yet to be described.
The boat was evidently coming to secure the gig, and to save this, and to prevent their being left alone and helpless upon this island without the means of communicating with the ship, Mr Morgan was straining every nerve. As Mark came out through the bushes, it was to see the second-mate reach the edge of the water, the sea having gone down some distance, and then he had a hundred yards to wade.
How it all happened Mark only knew afterwards from what he was told, but as he grasped the position he stood, as has been said, paralysed, and then in his agony of mind his power of action returned. Running down over the hard sand as quickly as he could, he watched the progress of events, and saw that the second-mate was still some distance from the gig, while the Malays were nearing fast. He was evidently so exhausted that he would not be able to reach the gig first, and as he realised this he paused for a moment, raised his gun and fired at the men.
This drew from them a savage yell, which seemed to be echoed from the praus; when as if to intimidate enemies and encourage the men a small gun was fired on board one of the vessels, and a little ball came skipping over the sea, to go crashing into the jungle.
Morgan went on a few steps farther and fired again; but though his shots evidently told, the men wincing and one falling, but only to spring up again, the fire did not check their progress, and they were fast nearing the gig.
Morgan made another desperate effort to reach it, when first one and then another of the Malays hurled his spear, which went through the air in a low curve.
Mark was now at the edge of the shallow water, with a blind feeling of despairing rage urging him on, boy as he was. What he was about to do he did not know himself. All he realised was that he must try and help Mr Morgan, who, as the spears were hurled, fell headlong into the deeper water, which splashed up around him glistening in the sun.
At this Mark uttered a groan and once more stopped short, as if paralysed, while, with a yell of triumph at the apparent success of their aim, the Malay boat came on and had nearly reached the gig.
But at that moment, as if moved by some other power, Mark raised the revolver and fired point-blank at the advancing boat.
Again and then again he fired—three shots—each, as the little weapon uttered its sharp ringing crack, sending a rifled bullet whizzing at the Malays. One ball struck the water before them, and went over their heads; the second passed before them, and the third struck one of the rowers, who leaped up with a yell and fell overboard.
This checked the progress of the on-coming boat. But as they dragged their wounded companion back into the boat they uttered another defiant yell, and, in spite of the two remaining shots sent pinging at them without effect, they reached the gig, and one man sprang in to cut the grapnel line.
At that moment there was quite a little volley fired from the edge of the jungle, the major and Gregory discharging four barrels at the Malays, and then with a shout they and the six sailors came running down the sands.
The man in the gig leaped back into the boat, and as the shots from the fowling-pieces were supplemented by bullets from the men’s pistols the Malays rapidly paddled away, while Mark thrust back his revolver, and waded out to where Mr Morgan was trying to raise himself in the water and kept falling back.
“No, no, not much hurt, my lad,” he gasped. “Got the gig ashore? Hah! That’s saved.”
He had just caught sight of Gregory’s excited face as he came splashing towards him to pant hoarsely:
“That’s right! Hold him a moment and I’ll be back.”
He was back directly with the gig, and by that time the men were about him, and the injured man was carried ashore, two of the sailors dragging the gig right up to the sands, upon which Mr Morgan was laid.
“Let me look,” said the major, taking out his knife and ripping up the mate’s shirt. “Ah! I see. I’ve had some experience of these things. A nasty cut, my dear boy, but it isn’t wide enough to let out your spirit. You let me put a bandage on it, and I warrant it will soon heal.”
“Poisoned, major?” whispered the injured man.
“Poisoned, bedad! Nonsense, man. It’s a clean cut in your shoulder, and thank your stars it was there, and not in your chest.”
“Look out!” shouted one of the men.
His reason was apparent, for one of the praus, seeing that the Malays were going back discomfited, began firing from her brass gun, sending a ball skipping over the water, and it finally dashed high up among the trees.
“Bah! let him fire,” said the major scornfully; “they couldn’t hit the Hill o’ Howth, and the safest place to be in is the one they aim at. There, my dear boy, that’s a business-like job, and it’s in your left shoulder. Now, Gregory, what’s to be done?”
“We must go off at once in the gig and retake the ship,” said Gregory sternly.
“No,” said the major, shaking his head, as he gazed out to where thePetrellay.
“Not go, sir, and you’ve got a wife and child on board.”
“And I a father and mother,” groaned Mark to himself.
“Yes, sir; and I’ve got a wife and child on board,” said the major sadly; “and I want to help them. But I’m a soldier, Mr Gregory, and I’ve learned a little of the art of war, and it isn’t the way to save people in a beleaguered fort to go blindly and throw away your life and that of your men.”
“But those on board, sir,” groaned Morgan. “Hadn’t we better share their fate?”
“We don’t know their peril yet,” said the major; “but I know this, if anything has happened to my poor wife—and child,” he added softly, “my sword and pistol were in the cabin, and some one or two black scoundrels have gone to the other world to announce what has been done.”
“For heaven’s sake, sir, don’t talk,” cried Gregory, who was half frantic with excitement; “what shall we do that is better?”
“There’s another shot,” said the major coolly. “Go on, my fine fellows, waste all the powder you can.”
This shot was wider than the last, and it was followed by one from the other prau which went farther away still.
“What shall we do?” said the major—“by the way, those shot were meant to sink that gig, and they went fifty yards away—Do? Wait and see what the scoundrels go about next.”
“But thePetrel?”
“Well, they can’t sail that away, sir, in this calm.”
“But we must retake her,” said Gregory.
“Well, we’ll try,” said the major, “but it must be by cunning, not force. Now, it’s my belief that the captain has intrenched himself in the cabin, and that he will keep the scoundrels at bay till we get to him.”
“It’s my belief, sir, that they are all murdered by those cut-throats. They’re Sulu men. I saw two of their praus leave Singapore, and they’ve been on the watch for us. Idiot that I was to come away. Ah, Mark, my lad, I didn’t mean you to hear that,” he added, as he saw the lad’s ashy face.
“And he’s all wrong. Erin-go-bragh!” cried the major; “there, what did I say: that’s the captain speaking, I’ll swear.”
For just then a series of shots were heard from thePetrel, and a faint film of smoke was seen to rise.
There was the distant sound of yelling for a time, every shot being followed by a fierce shout, and as the party on the sands tried to realise the conflict going on their feelings were of the most poignant kind.
“He’s all right so far,” said the major confidently.
“Or beaten,” said the mate.
“Beaten, sir? No,” cried the major. “If he had been beaten there would have been yelling to a different tune;” and he whispered in the mate’s ear: “We should have seen the water splash up about the vessel’s stern.”
Another shot followed, and then another; but the brass lelahs carried very wildly at that distance, and no harm was done.
“Hadn’t we better go off at once, major? There: it is our duty. Come, my lads, in with you.”
“Stop!” shouted the major fiercely. “Mr Gregory, we can only succeed in doing good by being sensible. What you propose is rash folly. Counter-order that command, sir, and as soon as it is night we’ll see what can be done.”
The mate hesitated between an eager desire to afford help and the feeling that the major’s science-taught ideas were right.
“Stop, my lads,” he said sadly; “the major’s right, but I ask you to bear witness, Morgan, that I do this unwillingly.”
“The major is quite right,” said Morgan, sitting up, his brow knit with pain. “Mark, my lad, we have you to thank for saving the gig.”
“Oh, nonsense, Mr Morgan,” said the lad.
“It’s quite right,” he said; “and I believe you saved my life too. At all events, you gave the others time to get up and stop them. Without a boat we should have been helpless.”
“Hah! he’d make a capital soldier,” said the major, as he shaded his eyes with his hand. “Now, then, Mr Gregory, can your lads get the gig right up the sands and into the river-bed yonder?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do it, then, for one of the praus is coming on so as to be within reach of the shore, and either land men, or try and shatter the gig. Now, I tell you what: we’ll intrench ourselves a bit, and then when they’re near enough, and I’ve got the barrel resting in a fork of one of these trees, if I can’t pick off a few men with a revolver, my name’s not O’Halloran. Now, then, to work.”
The order was given; and as the men ran up the gig, one of the two praus was seen to swing slowly round, and then began to move toward them, with her long sweeps dipping regularly in the calm blue sunlit sea, while at that moment, forgotten till then, Bruff, the dog, came limping over the sand, after a laborious journey on three legs, to lie down uttering a low whine at his master’s feet.
Chapter Fourteen.How the Major showed himself to be a Man o’ War.Poor Bruff had to be contented with a pat on the head, and then creep after his master back through the bushes to where the major was doing his best to bring his military knowledge to bear.“It’s a hard job,” he said, “but it must be done. As they come nearer they’ll keep on firing at that boat, and in it lie all our hopes. Mr Gregory, that boat must be got through those bushes and hidden.”“All hands,” said the mate, in answer; and setting the example, he helped to drag the boat round, so that her bows pointed at the narrow opening in the bushes up to which she was run, and then, with the prau continuing her fire, the gig was with great labour forced through to the open ground beyond, and placed behind some rocks in the river-bed.The next task was to help Morgan through, and Small and Billy Widgeon went to where he was lying on the sand, with Bruff beside him, sharing the wounded couch.“No, my lads, I can walk,” said the second-mate. “Sorry I am so helpless.”“Not more sorry than we, sir,” said Billy Widgeon respectfully. “I wish we’d brought Jacko with us instead of the dog.”“Why?” asked Morgan, as he walked slowly and painfully toward the opening.“Might have climbed a tree, sir, and got us a cocoa-nut.”“I’ll be content with some water, my lad,” said Morgan; and then he turned so faint that he gladly took Mark’s arm as he came up to help Bruff, who was limping along in a very pitiful way.“There,” said the major, as soon as all were through the gap; “now, I think if we bend down, and lace together some of these boughs across, we shall have a natural palisade which we are going to defend. That’s right; fire away; I don’t think we have much to fear from their gun. Now, Mr Gregory, if you will examine that side, I’ll look over this, and see if we have any weak points on our flanks, and then we’ll prepare for our friends.”A hasty look round right and left showed that, save after a long task of cutting down trees and creepers, no attack could be made on the flanks, while, on gathering together in the front, a strong low hedge of thorny bushes separated them from the coming foes—a breastwork of sufficient width to guard them from spear thrusts, while the defenders would find it sufficiently open to fire through.Points of vantage were selected, and a careful division of the arms made, two of the men, in addition to their pistols, being furnished with the spears which had been thrown at Morgan, and were found sticking in the sand, with their shafts above water.Small took possession of these, and handed one to Billy Widgeon.“I’m the biggest, Billy, and you’re the littlest,” he said, “so we’ll have ’em. I don’t know much about using ’em, but I should say the way’s to handle ’em as you would a toasting-fork on a slice o’ bread, these here savage chaps being the bread.”“Or,” said Billy, making a thrust through a bush, “like a skewer in a chicken. Well, I’m a peaceable man, Mr Mark, sir, and if they let me alone and us, why it’s all I ask; but if they won’t, all I hopes is, as two on ’em’ll be together, one behind the other, when I makes my first job at ’em with this here long-handled spike.”“Now, my lads,” said the major, who seemed to be enjoying his task, “just two words before we begin. I’m going to tell you what’s the fault of the British soldier: it’s firing away his ammunition too fast. Now, in this case, I want you to make every shot tell. Don’t be flurried into shooting without you have a chance, and don’t give the enemy opportunities by exposing yourselves. Lastly, I need not tell you to stick together. You’ll do that.”“Ay, ay, sir.”“That’s good, and now recollect you are Englishmen fighting for women as well as yourselves.”“Ay, ay, sir.”“Mr Gregory lets me command, because I’m used to this sort of thing, so don’t mind me taking the lead.”“No, sir, we won’t,” chorused the men.“Very well, then: don’t be bloodthirsty, but kill every scoundrel you can.”There was a hearty laugh at this, for, even in times of peril, your genuine British seaman has a strong appreciation of fun, and in spite of their position the major’s ways and words had a spice of the droll in them.Just at that moment Morgan came up, pistol in hand, his gun having been given to one of the men.“Why, my dear Mr Morgan,” said the major, “this is not right. You are in hospital, sir.”“No,” said Morgan grimly; “I am better now, and I’m not a bad shot with a revolver.”“You had better leave it to us, Morgan,” said the first-mate. “You and Mark Strong go and lie down in shelter.”“Oh, Mr Gregory,” cried Mark.“Why, you miserable young cockerel,” said the major, “you don’t want to fight?”“No, sir; but it seems so cowardly to go and hide away when the men are fighting.”“So it does, my lad, so you shall stop with me, and load for me while I’m firing. Come along. Now, my lads, steady, and not a Malay pirate shall get through that bush.”Every man uttered a low cheer, and settled in his place, well hidden from the occupants of the coming prau, and ready to deliver his fire when the enemy came near.It was coming steadily in, the sweeps being worked by the motley crew of scoundrels on board with a regularity which drew rough compliments from the men, and made Mr Gregory utter a remark.“Oh, yes,” said the major, “they row well enough, but so did the old galley-slaves in the convict boats. Now, I won’t use my revolver yet, but I’ve got four cartridges of BB shot that were meant for cassowaries or wild swans. Now, Mark, I think I’ll give our friends their first peppering with them.”“They will not kill, will they, sir?” said Mark anxiously.“No, not at the distance I shall fire from. Ah, that was better aimed,” he said, as the brass lelah on board the prau was fired, to strike the sand in front of the natural stockade, and then fly right over the sailors’ heads. “I’ll lay a wager, Gregory, that our friends don’t make such another shot as that to-day.”Then followed a few minutes of painful inaction, which seemed drawn out to hours. While the prau swept slowly in, the sun beat down with terrible force, and there was not a breath of wind to cool the burning air. Fortunately, though, the little stream gurgled among the stones, and was so handy that the men had but to scoop out holes in the sand, or to form them by turning over some huge stone, to have in a few minutes tiny pools of clear cool water with which to slake their thirst.On came the prau, with her swarthy crew crowding her bamboo decks, and their dark skins shining in the sun. Their spears bristled, and as they leaned over the side and peered eagerly among the bushes, the party ashore felt to a man that once they were in the power of so savage-looking a crew no mercy must be expected.The men lay close, and to the enemy there was nothing to indicate that there would be any defence.This seemed to make the Malays more careless, for they came on excitedly, and, as it was about low water, made no difficulty in that calm sea of running their vessel’s prow right ashore.Then there was a few minutes’ pause, which the defending party did not understand.“I see,” said Mr Gregory, at last; “they’re getting the lelah in a better place, so as to have another shot at us before the men charge.”The first-mate was right, for all at once there was a loud roar, and a charge of stones, it seemed, came hurtling over their heads, and flew up, to break down twigs and huge leaves from the trees, while, as the smoke rose, the Malays leaped overboard on either side, yelling excitedly, splashing in the water, and then began to wade ashore.“Eighty yards is a long shot,” said the major just then, “but I may as well give them a taste of our quality.”“No; wait a few moments,” said Gregory, for the men were collecting in a cluster, and directly after began to rush up the sands toward the opening, yelling furiously and shaking their spears, ready to hurl. “Now,” said the mate.By this time the Malays were little over fifty yards away, and taking careful aim low down the major drew both triggers so quickly, one after the other, that the report was almost simultaneous.The smoke as it cleared away unveiled a strange scene of men running here and there evidently in pain, others were spluttering about and leaping in the water, others were returning hurriedly toward the prau, while about a dozen still came on yelling with rage and brandishing their spears.“Now,” said the major, “fire steadily—gunners only. Pistols quiet.”Two shots followed, then two more, and the effect was an instantaneous retreat. One man dropped, but he sprang to his feet again and followed his companions, the whole party regaining the prau and climbing aboard, while the firing was resumed from the lelah.“Now I call that pleasant practice, gentlemen,” said the major. “Plenty of wounded, and no one killed. It has done some good work besides, for it has let the captain know we are all right, and ready to help. By Saint George—and it’s being a bad Irishman to take such an oath—see that!”“See what?” cried the mate.“The flag, Mr Gregory. Look!” cried Mark.For plainly enough now a signal was being made from one of the stern windows of the ship, and as far as they could make out it was a white cloth being waved to and fro.“Now if we could only answer that,” said the major, “it would encourage them.”“I could answer it, sir,” cried Mark.“How, my lad?”“Give me a big handkerchief, and I’ll climb up that tree and tie it to one of those branches.”“Capital, my lad,” said the major. “But, no; risky.”“They could not hit me, sir,” cried Mark; “and it’s like taking no notice of my father’s signals to do nothing.”“I think he might risk it, major,” said Gregory.“All right, then, my lad. Go on.”Mark started, and after a struggle reached an enormous pandanus, one of the many-branched screw-pines. It was not a very suitable tree for a signal staff, and there were cocoa palms and others of a far more appropriate kind, but these were unclimbable without notches being prepared for the feet, whereas the pandanus offered better facility.Still it was no easy task, and it was made the more difficult by the fact that the Malays began firing at him with their brass gun, a fact enough to startle the strongest nerves.But Mark recalled for his own encouragement the fact that the major had laughingly announced the spot at which the enemy aimed as being the safest, and so he climbed on till about thirty feet above the ground he managed to attach the major’s great yellow handkerchief, so that it hung out broadly, and then came down.Four shots were fired at him as he performed this feat, and on rejoining the major and Mr Gregory, the former laughingly said that not a shot had gone within fifty yards of him.“But I tell you what,” he continued, “that’s a bad signal—the yellow flag; they’ll think we have got fever.”“So we have, sir,” said Morgan grimly—“war fever.”“Look!” cried Mr Gregory; “they see the flag signal, and are answering it. Do you see?”It was plain enough; two flags were held out of the cabin-window, and after being waved withdrawn.“Yes,” said the major, “it’s mighty pretty, but there’s one drawback—one don’t know what it means.”The firing from the lelah was kept up at intervals, but every shot went over them, whether fired point-blank or made to ricochet from the sands. There was tremendous bustle and excitement on board the prau, but no fresh attempts were made to land, and as the long, hot, weary hours crept on the question rose as to what would be the enemy’s next move.“They’ll wait till dusk and attack us then,” said Mr Gregory.“No,” said the major, “I think not. These people never seem to me to be fond of night work. I think they’ll wait till the tide rises and then go back.”“Without destroying our boat?” said Morgan.“Yes, my lad. It’s bad warfare to leave an enemy behind; but you’ll see that is what they’ll do.”The major proved to be right, for after a time the prau began to move slowly round, and they saw it go back leisurely, the great sweeps dipping in the calm blue sea and an ever-widening line left behind.“That’s one to us, my lads,” said the major, “and next time it’s our play.”The men gave a cheer, and Small rose and came forward.“Lads says, sir,” he began respectfully, “that if it were all the same to you they’d like me to pipe down to dinner.”“Of course,” said Gregory. “Where are the provisions?”“Well, you see, sir, when we all come running down, the bags o’ wittles was chucked away in the jungo—in the wood, sir.”“Then a couple of men must go after it—those who threw it away.”“Well, sir, seeing as it were me and Billy Widgeon, we’ll go arter it, if you like.”The necessary permission was given, the two men departed, and at the end of an hour returned to find their companions still watching the praus, which were both made fast to the ship.“Thought as the crockydiles had been at it, sir,” said Small grimly; “but we found it at last. I’ve brought Billy Widgeon back safe.”“Of course,” said the mate quietly. “Why not?”“Well, you see, sir, there was one crock took a fancy to him, and we see another lying on the edge of the pool, smiling at him with his mouth wide open; but Billy wouldn’t stop, and here’s the prog.”
Poor Bruff had to be contented with a pat on the head, and then creep after his master back through the bushes to where the major was doing his best to bring his military knowledge to bear.
“It’s a hard job,” he said, “but it must be done. As they come nearer they’ll keep on firing at that boat, and in it lie all our hopes. Mr Gregory, that boat must be got through those bushes and hidden.”
“All hands,” said the mate, in answer; and setting the example, he helped to drag the boat round, so that her bows pointed at the narrow opening in the bushes up to which she was run, and then, with the prau continuing her fire, the gig was with great labour forced through to the open ground beyond, and placed behind some rocks in the river-bed.
The next task was to help Morgan through, and Small and Billy Widgeon went to where he was lying on the sand, with Bruff beside him, sharing the wounded couch.
“No, my lads, I can walk,” said the second-mate. “Sorry I am so helpless.”
“Not more sorry than we, sir,” said Billy Widgeon respectfully. “I wish we’d brought Jacko with us instead of the dog.”
“Why?” asked Morgan, as he walked slowly and painfully toward the opening.
“Might have climbed a tree, sir, and got us a cocoa-nut.”
“I’ll be content with some water, my lad,” said Morgan; and then he turned so faint that he gladly took Mark’s arm as he came up to help Bruff, who was limping along in a very pitiful way.
“There,” said the major, as soon as all were through the gap; “now, I think if we bend down, and lace together some of these boughs across, we shall have a natural palisade which we are going to defend. That’s right; fire away; I don’t think we have much to fear from their gun. Now, Mr Gregory, if you will examine that side, I’ll look over this, and see if we have any weak points on our flanks, and then we’ll prepare for our friends.”
A hasty look round right and left showed that, save after a long task of cutting down trees and creepers, no attack could be made on the flanks, while, on gathering together in the front, a strong low hedge of thorny bushes separated them from the coming foes—a breastwork of sufficient width to guard them from spear thrusts, while the defenders would find it sufficiently open to fire through.
Points of vantage were selected, and a careful division of the arms made, two of the men, in addition to their pistols, being furnished with the spears which had been thrown at Morgan, and were found sticking in the sand, with their shafts above water.
Small took possession of these, and handed one to Billy Widgeon.
“I’m the biggest, Billy, and you’re the littlest,” he said, “so we’ll have ’em. I don’t know much about using ’em, but I should say the way’s to handle ’em as you would a toasting-fork on a slice o’ bread, these here savage chaps being the bread.”
“Or,” said Billy, making a thrust through a bush, “like a skewer in a chicken. Well, I’m a peaceable man, Mr Mark, sir, and if they let me alone and us, why it’s all I ask; but if they won’t, all I hopes is, as two on ’em’ll be together, one behind the other, when I makes my first job at ’em with this here long-handled spike.”
“Now, my lads,” said the major, who seemed to be enjoying his task, “just two words before we begin. I’m going to tell you what’s the fault of the British soldier: it’s firing away his ammunition too fast. Now, in this case, I want you to make every shot tell. Don’t be flurried into shooting without you have a chance, and don’t give the enemy opportunities by exposing yourselves. Lastly, I need not tell you to stick together. You’ll do that.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“That’s good, and now recollect you are Englishmen fighting for women as well as yourselves.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“Mr Gregory lets me command, because I’m used to this sort of thing, so don’t mind me taking the lead.”
“No, sir, we won’t,” chorused the men.
“Very well, then: don’t be bloodthirsty, but kill every scoundrel you can.”
There was a hearty laugh at this, for, even in times of peril, your genuine British seaman has a strong appreciation of fun, and in spite of their position the major’s ways and words had a spice of the droll in them.
Just at that moment Morgan came up, pistol in hand, his gun having been given to one of the men.
“Why, my dear Mr Morgan,” said the major, “this is not right. You are in hospital, sir.”
“No,” said Morgan grimly; “I am better now, and I’m not a bad shot with a revolver.”
“You had better leave it to us, Morgan,” said the first-mate. “You and Mark Strong go and lie down in shelter.”
“Oh, Mr Gregory,” cried Mark.
“Why, you miserable young cockerel,” said the major, “you don’t want to fight?”
“No, sir; but it seems so cowardly to go and hide away when the men are fighting.”
“So it does, my lad, so you shall stop with me, and load for me while I’m firing. Come along. Now, my lads, steady, and not a Malay pirate shall get through that bush.”
Every man uttered a low cheer, and settled in his place, well hidden from the occupants of the coming prau, and ready to deliver his fire when the enemy came near.
It was coming steadily in, the sweeps being worked by the motley crew of scoundrels on board with a regularity which drew rough compliments from the men, and made Mr Gregory utter a remark.
“Oh, yes,” said the major, “they row well enough, but so did the old galley-slaves in the convict boats. Now, I won’t use my revolver yet, but I’ve got four cartridges of BB shot that were meant for cassowaries or wild swans. Now, Mark, I think I’ll give our friends their first peppering with them.”
“They will not kill, will they, sir?” said Mark anxiously.
“No, not at the distance I shall fire from. Ah, that was better aimed,” he said, as the brass lelah on board the prau was fired, to strike the sand in front of the natural stockade, and then fly right over the sailors’ heads. “I’ll lay a wager, Gregory, that our friends don’t make such another shot as that to-day.”
Then followed a few minutes of painful inaction, which seemed drawn out to hours. While the prau swept slowly in, the sun beat down with terrible force, and there was not a breath of wind to cool the burning air. Fortunately, though, the little stream gurgled among the stones, and was so handy that the men had but to scoop out holes in the sand, or to form them by turning over some huge stone, to have in a few minutes tiny pools of clear cool water with which to slake their thirst.
On came the prau, with her swarthy crew crowding her bamboo decks, and their dark skins shining in the sun. Their spears bristled, and as they leaned over the side and peered eagerly among the bushes, the party ashore felt to a man that once they were in the power of so savage-looking a crew no mercy must be expected.
The men lay close, and to the enemy there was nothing to indicate that there would be any defence.
This seemed to make the Malays more careless, for they came on excitedly, and, as it was about low water, made no difficulty in that calm sea of running their vessel’s prow right ashore.
Then there was a few minutes’ pause, which the defending party did not understand.
“I see,” said Mr Gregory, at last; “they’re getting the lelah in a better place, so as to have another shot at us before the men charge.”
The first-mate was right, for all at once there was a loud roar, and a charge of stones, it seemed, came hurtling over their heads, and flew up, to break down twigs and huge leaves from the trees, while, as the smoke rose, the Malays leaped overboard on either side, yelling excitedly, splashing in the water, and then began to wade ashore.
“Eighty yards is a long shot,” said the major just then, “but I may as well give them a taste of our quality.”
“No; wait a few moments,” said Gregory, for the men were collecting in a cluster, and directly after began to rush up the sands toward the opening, yelling furiously and shaking their spears, ready to hurl. “Now,” said the mate.
By this time the Malays were little over fifty yards away, and taking careful aim low down the major drew both triggers so quickly, one after the other, that the report was almost simultaneous.
The smoke as it cleared away unveiled a strange scene of men running here and there evidently in pain, others were spluttering about and leaping in the water, others were returning hurriedly toward the prau, while about a dozen still came on yelling with rage and brandishing their spears.
“Now,” said the major, “fire steadily—gunners only. Pistols quiet.”
Two shots followed, then two more, and the effect was an instantaneous retreat. One man dropped, but he sprang to his feet again and followed his companions, the whole party regaining the prau and climbing aboard, while the firing was resumed from the lelah.
“Now I call that pleasant practice, gentlemen,” said the major. “Plenty of wounded, and no one killed. It has done some good work besides, for it has let the captain know we are all right, and ready to help. By Saint George—and it’s being a bad Irishman to take such an oath—see that!”
“See what?” cried the mate.
“The flag, Mr Gregory. Look!” cried Mark.
For plainly enough now a signal was being made from one of the stern windows of the ship, and as far as they could make out it was a white cloth being waved to and fro.
“Now if we could only answer that,” said the major, “it would encourage them.”
“I could answer it, sir,” cried Mark.
“How, my lad?”
“Give me a big handkerchief, and I’ll climb up that tree and tie it to one of those branches.”
“Capital, my lad,” said the major. “But, no; risky.”
“They could not hit me, sir,” cried Mark; “and it’s like taking no notice of my father’s signals to do nothing.”
“I think he might risk it, major,” said Gregory.
“All right, then, my lad. Go on.”
Mark started, and after a struggle reached an enormous pandanus, one of the many-branched screw-pines. It was not a very suitable tree for a signal staff, and there were cocoa palms and others of a far more appropriate kind, but these were unclimbable without notches being prepared for the feet, whereas the pandanus offered better facility.
Still it was no easy task, and it was made the more difficult by the fact that the Malays began firing at him with their brass gun, a fact enough to startle the strongest nerves.
But Mark recalled for his own encouragement the fact that the major had laughingly announced the spot at which the enemy aimed as being the safest, and so he climbed on till about thirty feet above the ground he managed to attach the major’s great yellow handkerchief, so that it hung out broadly, and then came down.
Four shots were fired at him as he performed this feat, and on rejoining the major and Mr Gregory, the former laughingly said that not a shot had gone within fifty yards of him.
“But I tell you what,” he continued, “that’s a bad signal—the yellow flag; they’ll think we have got fever.”
“So we have, sir,” said Morgan grimly—“war fever.”
“Look!” cried Mr Gregory; “they see the flag signal, and are answering it. Do you see?”
It was plain enough; two flags were held out of the cabin-window, and after being waved withdrawn.
“Yes,” said the major, “it’s mighty pretty, but there’s one drawback—one don’t know what it means.”
The firing from the lelah was kept up at intervals, but every shot went over them, whether fired point-blank or made to ricochet from the sands. There was tremendous bustle and excitement on board the prau, but no fresh attempts were made to land, and as the long, hot, weary hours crept on the question rose as to what would be the enemy’s next move.
“They’ll wait till dusk and attack us then,” said Mr Gregory.
“No,” said the major, “I think not. These people never seem to me to be fond of night work. I think they’ll wait till the tide rises and then go back.”
“Without destroying our boat?” said Morgan.
“Yes, my lad. It’s bad warfare to leave an enemy behind; but you’ll see that is what they’ll do.”
The major proved to be right, for after a time the prau began to move slowly round, and they saw it go back leisurely, the great sweeps dipping in the calm blue sea and an ever-widening line left behind.
“That’s one to us, my lads,” said the major, “and next time it’s our play.”
The men gave a cheer, and Small rose and came forward.
“Lads says, sir,” he began respectfully, “that if it were all the same to you they’d like me to pipe down to dinner.”
“Of course,” said Gregory. “Where are the provisions?”
“Well, you see, sir, when we all come running down, the bags o’ wittles was chucked away in the jungo—in the wood, sir.”
“Then a couple of men must go after it—those who threw it away.”
“Well, sir, seeing as it were me and Billy Widgeon, we’ll go arter it, if you like.”
The necessary permission was given, the two men departed, and at the end of an hour returned to find their companions still watching the praus, which were both made fast to the ship.
“Thought as the crockydiles had been at it, sir,” said Small grimly; “but we found it at last. I’ve brought Billy Widgeon back safe.”
“Of course,” said the mate quietly. “Why not?”
“Well, you see, sir, there was one crock took a fancy to him, and we see another lying on the edge of the pool, smiling at him with his mouth wide open; but Billy wouldn’t stop, and here’s the prog.”
Chapter Fifteen.How the Crew of the “Black Petrel” were in sore Straits.The supply of food, supplemented by the bottles of beer, which were equitably distributed so as to give all the men a tiny cup or two, had a wonderful effect upon their spirits, so that the rest of the afternoon was passed waiting patiently for the night, the sailors expressing themselves as willing to do whatever their leaders bade.Billy Widgeon was the spokesman, Small occupying a sort of middle position between officers and men.“We says, sir,” he began, addressing the major—“I mean they says as we—I mean they ain’t fighting men, never having ’llsted or gone in the ryle navy; but in a case like this they will—no, we will, for of course I ar’n’t going to stand back—have no objection to a bit of a set-to so as to lick the niggers. For if ever niggers wanted licking it’s niggers as’ll take advantage of a ship being in a calm, and part of her officers and crew away, and—and—here: what was I to say next, lads?”Billy Widgeon had come to a stand-still, and had to appeal to his companions.“That’s about all,” said one of the men. “I’d stow it now.”“Right, mate; I will,” said Billy, who had recovered himself a little and was beginning to think of a great many more things he would like to say. “So we’re ready, sir, whether it’s fisties or pistols, and if Mr Gregory yonder and Mr Morgan—as we’re werry sorry he’s wounded—don’t give no orders another way, we’ll do as you wants us to, so what’s it to be? Theer, that’s all.”“Thank you, my lads, thank you,” said the major quietly.“Not much of a speech, were it?” said Billy to one of his forecastle mates.“What, yourn?” said the man.“Tchah! No! The major’s.”“Didn’t think much o’ yourn anyhow,” said the man.“Why didn’t you make one, then?” growled Billy fiercely.“There, don’t get up a quarrel, mate,” said the man. “P’r’aps we shall all be trussed up like larks ’fore to-morrow morning; so let’s be friends.”“Eight,” said Billy, slapping his great palm into his companion’s; and Mark smiled to himself as he thought how much these big men were like school-boys in spite of their years.The evening drew near after what seemed to be an interminable space of time, and to the great delight of Mr Gregory there was no change in the weather. There had been every probability of a breeze springing up at sundown, but the great orange globe had slowly rolled down and disappeared in the golden west, amidst the loud barking of the hornbills and the strident shrieks of flocks of parrots, and not a breath of wind was astir. Then came down the night, a purply black darkness spangled with stars overhead and reflected in the water, and with that darkness a hot intense silence.“Finish your pipes, my lads,” said the major, “and then we’re going afloat once more.”The men replied with a cheery “Ay, ay, sir,” and at once extinguished their pipes in token of their readiness; and soon after, in accordance with plans made by the three officers, Small assisting at their council, the boat was safely run down through the bushes, over the sand, and away into the calmly placid sea, which wavered from her touch in golden spangles, and then in silence all embarked, the rowlocks being muffled with handkerchiefs and jacket sleeves.It was not a long journey, but had to be taken with the greatest of caution, for the slightest sound would have betrayed their whereabouts, and, in view of this, Mr Gregory had whispered to Mark:“I don’t want to oppose your dog coming again, Mark, but can you depend upon his being quiet?”“Oh, yes, Mr Gregory.”“I mean when we near the praus. Will he bark?”“No,” said Mark confidently.“Good. Pull easy, my lads; we’ve plenty of time. If the wind holds off,”—he added to himself, for he knew that with ever so light a breeze thePetrelwould be soon taken far beyond their reach.As the boat left the shore Mark strained his eyes to make out the ship and its attendants; but all was dark, save the spangling of the stars, till they were about a hundred yards from the shore, when a beautiful phenomenon caught the lad’s eye, for wherever the oars disturbed the water it seemed as if fiery snakes darted away in an undulating line which seemed to run through the transparent black water in every direction.Mark only checked himself in time, for his lips began to form ejaculations of delight as he found that he was about to call upon those about him to share his pleasure.At times the sea appeared to be literally on fire with the undulating ribbons of light, and as Mr Gregory realised this he had to reduce their speed and caution the rowers to dip their oars with greater care.They glided on through the darkness, looking vainly for the ship, and from Mr Gregory’s manner it soon became evident that he was doubtful as to whether they were going in a straight line towards it, for after a few minutes he made the men cease rowing, and bent down to take counsel with Morgan, who sat in the bottom of the boat resting his back against one of the thwarts.“You ought to be able to see her now,” whispered Morgan, “but I fear that the current has carried her more east.”“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Gregory softly, “and I’m afraid of missing her. If she would only show a light!”Just then there was a low, ominous-sounding growl which made Mark hug the dog’s head to his breast and hold it tightly, while he ordered it to be silent.There was occasion for the growl; and it was their temporary saving that the men had ceased rowing, for the fiery look of the water would have betrayed their whereabouts as it did that of a vessel coming toward them, and they were not long in realising that it was one of the praus being rowed cautiously toward the shore.The prau came on with the golden snakes undulating away at every dip of the sweeps, and right and left of the keel as she softly divided the water. All was silent on board, and nothing visible but what seemed like a darkening of the horizon; but, as he held Bruff tightly to keep him silent and stared excitedly at the passing vessel, Mark pictured in his mind the deck crowded with fierce-looking opal-eyed savage men, spear and kris armed, and ready to slay if they had the chance.Those were perilous moments; for as the prau drew near it seemed impossible for its occupants to pass without seeing the gig lying little more than a few yards away. And as the English party sat there hardly daring to breathe, and knowing that a growl from the dog would result in a shower of spears, it seemed as if the vessel would never pass.But pass it did, with the wonderful display of golden coruscations undulating from the spots where the long oars softly dipped still going on, but gradually growing more faint, and at last invisible.“Bless that dog!” said Mr Gregory, drawing a long breath. “Now, my lads, pull softly. We’re in the right track. Give way.”The men rowed, and a whispered conversation went on between the three heads of the little party.“Couldn’t be better, gentlemen,” said the major. “Here we have half the enemy’s forces gone ashore, and the other half not expecting us; that’s clear, or else they wouldn’t have sent that expedition to surprise us. What do you mane to do?”“Get close up under the cabin-window,” said Mr Gregory, “if we can find the ship. If we can lay the boat right under the stern we shall be safer from those on deck, for they could not see us.”“Yes,” said the major gazing over the sea; “but, my dear sir, we must find the ship first before we can get to her stern.”“Is there no light?” said Morgan at last, after they had been rowing softly about for quite a quarter of an hour.“No, not a spark,” whispered Mr Gregory. “I’ve tried to keep in the course by which the prau came when it passed us, but the darkness is so deceptive that we might as well be blind.”Another ten minutes or so were passed and still they could not make out the tall spars and huge hull of the ship, while a feeling of despair began to come over Mark as he asked himself whether he should ever look upon those he loved again. He had never before realised the vastness of the ocean and how easy it was to go astray and be lost, for as minute by minute glided away, the search for the great ship became more hopeless, and the darkness that was over the sea began to settle down upon the young adventurer’s heart.“I’m about done, major,” whispered Mr Gregory. “We’re just as likely to be going right away from her as to her.”“A current must be setting strongly now at the change of tide,” said Morgan. “We shall have to wait for day.”“And throw away our chance of doing some good!” said Mr Gregory pettishly. “Here you, Mark Strong, this dog of yours seems as if he could do anything. Do you think if we put him in the water he’d swim toward the ship?”“If I let him go into the water he would begin to bark loudly,” whispered Mark.“Ah! and do more harm than good,” said the major. “Now, look here, gentlemen: my wife and daughter are on board that ship, and we’ve got to find her, so let’s have no talk of giving up, if you please.”“Give up, major!” said the first-mate with an angry growl; “don’t you run away with that idea. I’m not going to give up.”There was so much decision in Mr Gregory’s tone and words that Mark’s heart grew light again, and the horrible picture his fancy painted of his father and mother being left at the mercy of the Malays once more grew dim.“What shall we do, then, next?—go west?”“No, sir, I think north,” replied Gregory. “There isn’t a breath of air, so we cannot have gone far. What say, Morgan?”“The tide may have taken her many miles,” said the second-mate, speaking painfully; “but try north.”The first-mate was about to whisper to the men to easy on the port side when all at once there was a flash at a distance, followed by a sharp report.“From the ship,” said Gregory. “A signal.”“No, no,” said Morgan peevishly. “That is from the shore.”“Oh, impossible!” said the major. “That shot was fired from the ship.”Another flash, evidently from half-a-mile away in quite a different direction.“That is from the ship,” whispered Morgan as the report of the gun went vibrating through the dark night air.“No, no, man; from the shore,” said the major pettishly.“I stake my life, sir, it is from the ship,” said Morgan, straining his eyes in the direction from which the last signal had been made.“Morgan’s right, major,” said Gregory firmly.“Yes; that there last shot was from seaward,” whispered the boatswain. “I haven’t not no doubt about that.”“Steady, my lads, and give way now,” whispered Gregory; and the boat was turned and rowed steadily for quite a quarter of an hour as nearly as they could tell in the direction from which the last shot had come.At the end of that time, though, they were as badly off, it seemed, as ever, for they ceased rowing, to find that the darkness was more dense, for a soft mist was gathering overhead and blotting out the stars.“If we only dared hail,” muttered Gregory. “Major, this is horrible. Pst!”This was consequent upon a faint flash of light appearing not twenty yards away; then it seemed as if there was a tiny flame burning, and directly after complete darkness.“ThePetrelor a prau,” said Mr Gregory in a low voice, and with his lips to the major’s ear.“The ship,” said Mark excitedly, striking in.“How do you know, lad?”“By the height up.”“You’re right, boy; so it is.”“And there,” said Mark softly, “it was someone lighting a cigar.”“Yes; I can smell it. But hist!”“It was my father,” said Mark excitedly. “I know what he’s doing: smoking at the cabin-window.”“May be,” whispered back the mate cautiously. “Here, pull that starboard oar, Small.”The boatswain obeyed, and the one impulse seemed to send them all into a greater darkness, while the odour of tobacco pervaded the air quite strongly and a little point of light shone above their heads.“Father!” whispered Mark, for he could not control himself, and the word slipped from his tongue.“Mark? Hush!” came back to set all doubts at rest.“Here, hook on, Small, keep the boat as she is,” said Mr Gregory; and this was done in silence; but it was some few minutes before they were in their former position, all being done with the most extreme caution.“Have you a rope, Strong?” said Gregory in a low voice.There was no reply, but the glowing end of the cigar disappeared from where it shone some fifteen feet above their heads, and at the end of a few minutes something was lowered down, which proved to be so many sheets tightly rolled up and knotted together.The first-mate seized the extemporised cord and drew hard upon it to see if it would bear. It proved to be made quite fast, so he turned to Mark:“Now, young un,” he said, “you can climb that rope. Go up and hear from your father how matters stand.”Mark said nothing, but seized the soft cord, and, with the mate’s help, was soon half-way up, but the rest, as he quitted the support of the mate’s shoulders, was more difficult. Still, the knots helped him, the distance was short, and, after a little exertion, he felt a couple of strong hands passed under his arms, when, after a bit of scuffling and plenty of hoist, he felt himself half-lifted in at the cabin-window, and the next instant clasped in a pair of softly-clinging arms.“My poor boy!” whispered Mrs Strong.“Hist! don’t speak! Don’t make a sound!” said the captain sternly. “There may be a sentry at the door.”“But, father, are you hurt?”“A little, my boy; not much,” said the captain.“Terribly, Mark,” whispered Mrs Strong; and the lad felt a shudder run through him.“No, no! Don’t alarm the boy,” said the captain; and just then Mark felt a little hand steal into his, and heard a faint sob, while another hand was laid upon his shoulder.“Miss O’Halloran! Mary!” whispered Mark.“Yes: the major?”“Papa?”Two voices whispered those questions at the same moment.“He’s quite right, and down there in the boat,” said Mark.“Now, my boy, quick!” said the captain, catching Mark by the shoulder; “who’s below in the boat?”“All of them, father.”“Unhurt?”“Mr Morgan has got a nasty spear wound.”“Ah!” ejaculated the captain. “Very bad?”“Through his shoulder, father.”“Did you meet one of the praus?”“Yes, as we came across.”“Gone to destroy your boat,” said the captain. “I heard the orders given. Now go down to the boat and tell Mr Gregory that we are partly prisoners here. I say partly, because I have barricaded the cabin-door. Tell him that one of the praus came alongside to beg for water. The crew said they were dying for want of it, and the scoundrels had hidden their arms. I can hardly tell now how it was done, my lad, but one moment I was giving orders for the water to be passed over the side, the next I was lying on the deck struck down, and when I came to, the men were secured below and the deck was in possession of the Malays, a second prau having come up and helped the men of the first.”“But we heard firing, father?”“Yes, my boy, so did I, as if it was in a dream, and I found afterwards that my poor lads had made a brave fight of it, and driven the first party out, but the crew were without a leader, and the Malays fired into them till they came close alongside and boarded together.”“Was—was anyone killed?”“Don’t ask now, my lad. Tell Gregory we were driven in here, and the ladies are all right. Ask him to climb up and talk the matter over with me, as to what we shall do.”“Pst!” came from the cabin-window, and directly after Mr Gregory climbed in.“I could not wait,” he said, “and I found the rope would bear me. Now, Strong, how do matters stand?”The captain explained the position.“And the men—down below deck?”“No,” said the captain bitterly; “half the poor fellows died like men—no, like sheep,” he cried excitedly, “for they had no weapons but the capstan bars. The other half were sent afloat in one of the boats, I suppose, and one of the praus kept firing at them till they got beyond reach.”“Ha!” ejaculated the mate.“Now go down and talk with the major. Poor Morgan is helpless?”“Yes, quite.”“Well, ask the major if he will stand by me. There are only two courses open. We must either try and retake the ship or escape at once before morning.”“Which do you think is best, Strong?” said Mr Gregory huskily.“I’m pulled two ways, Gregory. I want to save my ship; but, on the other hand, there is the thought of these helpless women and our position if we should fail.”“Well,” said Gregory slowly, “I’m for the fight. We’ve got some weapons now, and hang me if I’m going to strike to a set of treacherous pirates like this.”The captain grasped his hand and began smoking.“Quiets the pain a bit,” he whispered. “An ugly wound; but I don’t think the kris was poisoned.”“Why, Strong,” said the first-mate sympathetically, “we ought to give up and escape.”“My dear Gregory, I’m quite a cripple; but if you and the others will stand by me, we’ll stick to the ship till she sinks, if we have such bad luck as that; and if she doesn’t sink, we’ll save her.”“I’ll answer for it they will stand by you,” said the mate, and going to the window he lowered himself down, and told those below how matters stood.“Now, major,” he said, “what do you say?”“Say, sor!” whispered the major; “why, there isn’t anything to say. I’ve paid for my passage and the passages of the wife and daughter to Hong-Kong, and does Captain Strong think I’m going to let them finish the voyage in a scrap of an open boat. No, sor; fight, sor, fight, of course.”“Will you stand by us, my lads?” said Mr Gregory.“Will we stand by you, sir!” growled Small. “Why, of course we will. I want to make J Small, his mark, on some of their brown carkidges. Don’t you, boys?”A low whispered growl came in reply, a sound that was as full of fight as if it had been uttered by some fierce beast.“That will do then,” said the first-mate. “You slip up there first, Billy Widgeon, and you others go next. Stop: Billy, send down a table-cloth.”“Table-cloth, sir?”“Yes, to tie the dog in; we mustn’t leave him.”Widgeon went up, his mates followed one by one, for the cotton rope stood the strain, and then a big white table-cloth was dropped into the boat.“Now, Bruff, my lad, you’ve got to go up like a bundle. Will you go quietly, or are you going to betray us?”The dog made no resistance, but allowed himself to be stowed in the middle of the cloth, which was tied up bundle-wise, the end of the sheet-rope was attached, a signal made, and the animal drawn up and in at the cabin-window without his uttering a sound.A minute more and the rope came down.“Can you bear it round you, my lad?” whispered Gregory to Morgan.“I’ll bear anything,” was the calm reply; and he did not wince as the rope was secured about his chest. Then a signal was given, and he was drawn up, to be dragged in at the cabin-window with his wound bleeding again and he insensible.“Can you climb up, major?” said Gregory as the rope came down again.“No, sir,” said the major stoutly. “I shall have to be hauled up like a passenger, I suppose. I am no climber. But won’t they hear us on deck?”“I wonder they have not already,” said the mate, though all was perfectly still, and the stern stood out so much that they were in some degree protected.“This is confoundedly undignified, sir, confoundedly,” said the major, as the cotton rope was secured about his waist. “Hang it, Gregory, I don’t like it, sir. Can’t I climb?”“You said you could not. Will you try?”“No; it’s of no use. But really I do object to be swinging there at the end of a string like a confounded leg of mutton under a bottle-jack. Not too tight.”“No; that knot will not slip. There, shall I give the signal?”“Yes—no—yes; and let me get it over as soon as I can. Good gracious! if the men of my regiment were to see me now!”The signal was given, the rope tightened, and the major uttered a low cry as he was sharply lifted off his feet, and before he could check himself surely enough he began to turn slowly round and round as if he were being roasted.Left alone now, Mr Gregory waited patiently till the rope came down again, when he caught it and secured it round his waist, after which he went to the bows of the gig, took the painter, and by pressing the stern of the ship managed to draw the prow close up to the hull, and then after a little search he discovered a ring-bolt upon the rudder-post, to which he drew the boat, running the painter right through and making it fast, so that the little vessel was well out of sight, unless seen by the crews of one of the praus.This done he went to the stern, tightened the rope, and found that if he swung off he would go into the sea with a splash, an act sufficiently noisy to arouse the watch presumably set on deck.This was out of the question, and he was about to lower himself into the water when the thought occurred to him to feel about the boat as to whether anything had been left; and it proved to be as well that he did, for beneath one of the thwarts his hand came in contact with a bag which proved to contain the ammunition and one of the revolvers.Gregory secured the bag to his neck, hoping and believing that he would be able to keep it dry; and now, taking well hold of the rope, he let himself glide down over the side of the boat into the deep water, hanging suspended till the men above began to haul and without leaving him to climb, he was drawn up to the window and helped in, to stand dripping on the floor, and far more concerned about the contents of the bag than his own state.
The supply of food, supplemented by the bottles of beer, which were equitably distributed so as to give all the men a tiny cup or two, had a wonderful effect upon their spirits, so that the rest of the afternoon was passed waiting patiently for the night, the sailors expressing themselves as willing to do whatever their leaders bade.
Billy Widgeon was the spokesman, Small occupying a sort of middle position between officers and men.
“We says, sir,” he began, addressing the major—“I mean they says as we—I mean they ain’t fighting men, never having ’llsted or gone in the ryle navy; but in a case like this they will—no, we will, for of course I ar’n’t going to stand back—have no objection to a bit of a set-to so as to lick the niggers. For if ever niggers wanted licking it’s niggers as’ll take advantage of a ship being in a calm, and part of her officers and crew away, and—and—here: what was I to say next, lads?”
Billy Widgeon had come to a stand-still, and had to appeal to his companions.
“That’s about all,” said one of the men. “I’d stow it now.”
“Right, mate; I will,” said Billy, who had recovered himself a little and was beginning to think of a great many more things he would like to say. “So we’re ready, sir, whether it’s fisties or pistols, and if Mr Gregory yonder and Mr Morgan—as we’re werry sorry he’s wounded—don’t give no orders another way, we’ll do as you wants us to, so what’s it to be? Theer, that’s all.”
“Thank you, my lads, thank you,” said the major quietly.
“Not much of a speech, were it?” said Billy to one of his forecastle mates.
“What, yourn?” said the man.
“Tchah! No! The major’s.”
“Didn’t think much o’ yourn anyhow,” said the man.
“Why didn’t you make one, then?” growled Billy fiercely.
“There, don’t get up a quarrel, mate,” said the man. “P’r’aps we shall all be trussed up like larks ’fore to-morrow morning; so let’s be friends.”
“Eight,” said Billy, slapping his great palm into his companion’s; and Mark smiled to himself as he thought how much these big men were like school-boys in spite of their years.
The evening drew near after what seemed to be an interminable space of time, and to the great delight of Mr Gregory there was no change in the weather. There had been every probability of a breeze springing up at sundown, but the great orange globe had slowly rolled down and disappeared in the golden west, amidst the loud barking of the hornbills and the strident shrieks of flocks of parrots, and not a breath of wind was astir. Then came down the night, a purply black darkness spangled with stars overhead and reflected in the water, and with that darkness a hot intense silence.
“Finish your pipes, my lads,” said the major, “and then we’re going afloat once more.”
The men replied with a cheery “Ay, ay, sir,” and at once extinguished their pipes in token of their readiness; and soon after, in accordance with plans made by the three officers, Small assisting at their council, the boat was safely run down through the bushes, over the sand, and away into the calmly placid sea, which wavered from her touch in golden spangles, and then in silence all embarked, the rowlocks being muffled with handkerchiefs and jacket sleeves.
It was not a long journey, but had to be taken with the greatest of caution, for the slightest sound would have betrayed their whereabouts, and, in view of this, Mr Gregory had whispered to Mark:
“I don’t want to oppose your dog coming again, Mark, but can you depend upon his being quiet?”
“Oh, yes, Mr Gregory.”
“I mean when we near the praus. Will he bark?”
“No,” said Mark confidently.
“Good. Pull easy, my lads; we’ve plenty of time. If the wind holds off,”—he added to himself, for he knew that with ever so light a breeze thePetrelwould be soon taken far beyond their reach.
As the boat left the shore Mark strained his eyes to make out the ship and its attendants; but all was dark, save the spangling of the stars, till they were about a hundred yards from the shore, when a beautiful phenomenon caught the lad’s eye, for wherever the oars disturbed the water it seemed as if fiery snakes darted away in an undulating line which seemed to run through the transparent black water in every direction.
Mark only checked himself in time, for his lips began to form ejaculations of delight as he found that he was about to call upon those about him to share his pleasure.
At times the sea appeared to be literally on fire with the undulating ribbons of light, and as Mr Gregory realised this he had to reduce their speed and caution the rowers to dip their oars with greater care.
They glided on through the darkness, looking vainly for the ship, and from Mr Gregory’s manner it soon became evident that he was doubtful as to whether they were going in a straight line towards it, for after a few minutes he made the men cease rowing, and bent down to take counsel with Morgan, who sat in the bottom of the boat resting his back against one of the thwarts.
“You ought to be able to see her now,” whispered Morgan, “but I fear that the current has carried her more east.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Gregory softly, “and I’m afraid of missing her. If she would only show a light!”
Just then there was a low, ominous-sounding growl which made Mark hug the dog’s head to his breast and hold it tightly, while he ordered it to be silent.
There was occasion for the growl; and it was their temporary saving that the men had ceased rowing, for the fiery look of the water would have betrayed their whereabouts as it did that of a vessel coming toward them, and they were not long in realising that it was one of the praus being rowed cautiously toward the shore.
The prau came on with the golden snakes undulating away at every dip of the sweeps, and right and left of the keel as she softly divided the water. All was silent on board, and nothing visible but what seemed like a darkening of the horizon; but, as he held Bruff tightly to keep him silent and stared excitedly at the passing vessel, Mark pictured in his mind the deck crowded with fierce-looking opal-eyed savage men, spear and kris armed, and ready to slay if they had the chance.
Those were perilous moments; for as the prau drew near it seemed impossible for its occupants to pass without seeing the gig lying little more than a few yards away. And as the English party sat there hardly daring to breathe, and knowing that a growl from the dog would result in a shower of spears, it seemed as if the vessel would never pass.
But pass it did, with the wonderful display of golden coruscations undulating from the spots where the long oars softly dipped still going on, but gradually growing more faint, and at last invisible.
“Bless that dog!” said Mr Gregory, drawing a long breath. “Now, my lads, pull softly. We’re in the right track. Give way.”
The men rowed, and a whispered conversation went on between the three heads of the little party.
“Couldn’t be better, gentlemen,” said the major. “Here we have half the enemy’s forces gone ashore, and the other half not expecting us; that’s clear, or else they wouldn’t have sent that expedition to surprise us. What do you mane to do?”
“Get close up under the cabin-window,” said Mr Gregory, “if we can find the ship. If we can lay the boat right under the stern we shall be safer from those on deck, for they could not see us.”
“Yes,” said the major gazing over the sea; “but, my dear sir, we must find the ship first before we can get to her stern.”
“Is there no light?” said Morgan at last, after they had been rowing softly about for quite a quarter of an hour.
“No, not a spark,” whispered Mr Gregory. “I’ve tried to keep in the course by which the prau came when it passed us, but the darkness is so deceptive that we might as well be blind.”
Another ten minutes or so were passed and still they could not make out the tall spars and huge hull of the ship, while a feeling of despair began to come over Mark as he asked himself whether he should ever look upon those he loved again. He had never before realised the vastness of the ocean and how easy it was to go astray and be lost, for as minute by minute glided away, the search for the great ship became more hopeless, and the darkness that was over the sea began to settle down upon the young adventurer’s heart.
“I’m about done, major,” whispered Mr Gregory. “We’re just as likely to be going right away from her as to her.”
“A current must be setting strongly now at the change of tide,” said Morgan. “We shall have to wait for day.”
“And throw away our chance of doing some good!” said Mr Gregory pettishly. “Here you, Mark Strong, this dog of yours seems as if he could do anything. Do you think if we put him in the water he’d swim toward the ship?”
“If I let him go into the water he would begin to bark loudly,” whispered Mark.
“Ah! and do more harm than good,” said the major. “Now, look here, gentlemen: my wife and daughter are on board that ship, and we’ve got to find her, so let’s have no talk of giving up, if you please.”
“Give up, major!” said the first-mate with an angry growl; “don’t you run away with that idea. I’m not going to give up.”
There was so much decision in Mr Gregory’s tone and words that Mark’s heart grew light again, and the horrible picture his fancy painted of his father and mother being left at the mercy of the Malays once more grew dim.
“What shall we do, then, next?—go west?”
“No, sir, I think north,” replied Gregory. “There isn’t a breath of air, so we cannot have gone far. What say, Morgan?”
“The tide may have taken her many miles,” said the second-mate, speaking painfully; “but try north.”
The first-mate was about to whisper to the men to easy on the port side when all at once there was a flash at a distance, followed by a sharp report.
“From the ship,” said Gregory. “A signal.”
“No, no,” said Morgan peevishly. “That is from the shore.”
“Oh, impossible!” said the major. “That shot was fired from the ship.”
Another flash, evidently from half-a-mile away in quite a different direction.
“That is from the ship,” whispered Morgan as the report of the gun went vibrating through the dark night air.
“No, no, man; from the shore,” said the major pettishly.
“I stake my life, sir, it is from the ship,” said Morgan, straining his eyes in the direction from which the last signal had been made.
“Morgan’s right, major,” said Gregory firmly.
“Yes; that there last shot was from seaward,” whispered the boatswain. “I haven’t not no doubt about that.”
“Steady, my lads, and give way now,” whispered Gregory; and the boat was turned and rowed steadily for quite a quarter of an hour as nearly as they could tell in the direction from which the last shot had come.
At the end of that time, though, they were as badly off, it seemed, as ever, for they ceased rowing, to find that the darkness was more dense, for a soft mist was gathering overhead and blotting out the stars.
“If we only dared hail,” muttered Gregory. “Major, this is horrible. Pst!”
This was consequent upon a faint flash of light appearing not twenty yards away; then it seemed as if there was a tiny flame burning, and directly after complete darkness.
“ThePetrelor a prau,” said Mr Gregory in a low voice, and with his lips to the major’s ear.
“The ship,” said Mark excitedly, striking in.
“How do you know, lad?”
“By the height up.”
“You’re right, boy; so it is.”
“And there,” said Mark softly, “it was someone lighting a cigar.”
“Yes; I can smell it. But hist!”
“It was my father,” said Mark excitedly. “I know what he’s doing: smoking at the cabin-window.”
“May be,” whispered back the mate cautiously. “Here, pull that starboard oar, Small.”
The boatswain obeyed, and the one impulse seemed to send them all into a greater darkness, while the odour of tobacco pervaded the air quite strongly and a little point of light shone above their heads.
“Father!” whispered Mark, for he could not control himself, and the word slipped from his tongue.
“Mark? Hush!” came back to set all doubts at rest.
“Here, hook on, Small, keep the boat as she is,” said Mr Gregory; and this was done in silence; but it was some few minutes before they were in their former position, all being done with the most extreme caution.
“Have you a rope, Strong?” said Gregory in a low voice.
There was no reply, but the glowing end of the cigar disappeared from where it shone some fifteen feet above their heads, and at the end of a few minutes something was lowered down, which proved to be so many sheets tightly rolled up and knotted together.
The first-mate seized the extemporised cord and drew hard upon it to see if it would bear. It proved to be made quite fast, so he turned to Mark:
“Now, young un,” he said, “you can climb that rope. Go up and hear from your father how matters stand.”
Mark said nothing, but seized the soft cord, and, with the mate’s help, was soon half-way up, but the rest, as he quitted the support of the mate’s shoulders, was more difficult. Still, the knots helped him, the distance was short, and, after a little exertion, he felt a couple of strong hands passed under his arms, when, after a bit of scuffling and plenty of hoist, he felt himself half-lifted in at the cabin-window, and the next instant clasped in a pair of softly-clinging arms.
“My poor boy!” whispered Mrs Strong.
“Hist! don’t speak! Don’t make a sound!” said the captain sternly. “There may be a sentry at the door.”
“But, father, are you hurt?”
“A little, my boy; not much,” said the captain.
“Terribly, Mark,” whispered Mrs Strong; and the lad felt a shudder run through him.
“No, no! Don’t alarm the boy,” said the captain; and just then Mark felt a little hand steal into his, and heard a faint sob, while another hand was laid upon his shoulder.
“Miss O’Halloran! Mary!” whispered Mark.
“Yes: the major?”
“Papa?”
Two voices whispered those questions at the same moment.
“He’s quite right, and down there in the boat,” said Mark.
“Now, my boy, quick!” said the captain, catching Mark by the shoulder; “who’s below in the boat?”
“All of them, father.”
“Unhurt?”
“Mr Morgan has got a nasty spear wound.”
“Ah!” ejaculated the captain. “Very bad?”
“Through his shoulder, father.”
“Did you meet one of the praus?”
“Yes, as we came across.”
“Gone to destroy your boat,” said the captain. “I heard the orders given. Now go down to the boat and tell Mr Gregory that we are partly prisoners here. I say partly, because I have barricaded the cabin-door. Tell him that one of the praus came alongside to beg for water. The crew said they were dying for want of it, and the scoundrels had hidden their arms. I can hardly tell now how it was done, my lad, but one moment I was giving orders for the water to be passed over the side, the next I was lying on the deck struck down, and when I came to, the men were secured below and the deck was in possession of the Malays, a second prau having come up and helped the men of the first.”
“But we heard firing, father?”
“Yes, my boy, so did I, as if it was in a dream, and I found afterwards that my poor lads had made a brave fight of it, and driven the first party out, but the crew were without a leader, and the Malays fired into them till they came close alongside and boarded together.”
“Was—was anyone killed?”
“Don’t ask now, my lad. Tell Gregory we were driven in here, and the ladies are all right. Ask him to climb up and talk the matter over with me, as to what we shall do.”
“Pst!” came from the cabin-window, and directly after Mr Gregory climbed in.
“I could not wait,” he said, “and I found the rope would bear me. Now, Strong, how do matters stand?”
The captain explained the position.
“And the men—down below deck?”
“No,” said the captain bitterly; “half the poor fellows died like men—no, like sheep,” he cried excitedly, “for they had no weapons but the capstan bars. The other half were sent afloat in one of the boats, I suppose, and one of the praus kept firing at them till they got beyond reach.”
“Ha!” ejaculated the mate.
“Now go down and talk with the major. Poor Morgan is helpless?”
“Yes, quite.”
“Well, ask the major if he will stand by me. There are only two courses open. We must either try and retake the ship or escape at once before morning.”
“Which do you think is best, Strong?” said Mr Gregory huskily.
“I’m pulled two ways, Gregory. I want to save my ship; but, on the other hand, there is the thought of these helpless women and our position if we should fail.”
“Well,” said Gregory slowly, “I’m for the fight. We’ve got some weapons now, and hang me if I’m going to strike to a set of treacherous pirates like this.”
The captain grasped his hand and began smoking.
“Quiets the pain a bit,” he whispered. “An ugly wound; but I don’t think the kris was poisoned.”
“Why, Strong,” said the first-mate sympathetically, “we ought to give up and escape.”
“My dear Gregory, I’m quite a cripple; but if you and the others will stand by me, we’ll stick to the ship till she sinks, if we have such bad luck as that; and if she doesn’t sink, we’ll save her.”
“I’ll answer for it they will stand by you,” said the mate, and going to the window he lowered himself down, and told those below how matters stood.
“Now, major,” he said, “what do you say?”
“Say, sor!” whispered the major; “why, there isn’t anything to say. I’ve paid for my passage and the passages of the wife and daughter to Hong-Kong, and does Captain Strong think I’m going to let them finish the voyage in a scrap of an open boat. No, sor; fight, sor, fight, of course.”
“Will you stand by us, my lads?” said Mr Gregory.
“Will we stand by you, sir!” growled Small. “Why, of course we will. I want to make J Small, his mark, on some of their brown carkidges. Don’t you, boys?”
A low whispered growl came in reply, a sound that was as full of fight as if it had been uttered by some fierce beast.
“That will do then,” said the first-mate. “You slip up there first, Billy Widgeon, and you others go next. Stop: Billy, send down a table-cloth.”
“Table-cloth, sir?”
“Yes, to tie the dog in; we mustn’t leave him.”
Widgeon went up, his mates followed one by one, for the cotton rope stood the strain, and then a big white table-cloth was dropped into the boat.
“Now, Bruff, my lad, you’ve got to go up like a bundle. Will you go quietly, or are you going to betray us?”
The dog made no resistance, but allowed himself to be stowed in the middle of the cloth, which was tied up bundle-wise, the end of the sheet-rope was attached, a signal made, and the animal drawn up and in at the cabin-window without his uttering a sound.
A minute more and the rope came down.
“Can you bear it round you, my lad?” whispered Gregory to Morgan.
“I’ll bear anything,” was the calm reply; and he did not wince as the rope was secured about his chest. Then a signal was given, and he was drawn up, to be dragged in at the cabin-window with his wound bleeding again and he insensible.
“Can you climb up, major?” said Gregory as the rope came down again.
“No, sir,” said the major stoutly. “I shall have to be hauled up like a passenger, I suppose. I am no climber. But won’t they hear us on deck?”
“I wonder they have not already,” said the mate, though all was perfectly still, and the stern stood out so much that they were in some degree protected.
“This is confoundedly undignified, sir, confoundedly,” said the major, as the cotton rope was secured about his waist. “Hang it, Gregory, I don’t like it, sir. Can’t I climb?”
“You said you could not. Will you try?”
“No; it’s of no use. But really I do object to be swinging there at the end of a string like a confounded leg of mutton under a bottle-jack. Not too tight.”
“No; that knot will not slip. There, shall I give the signal?”
“Yes—no—yes; and let me get it over as soon as I can. Good gracious! if the men of my regiment were to see me now!”
The signal was given, the rope tightened, and the major uttered a low cry as he was sharply lifted off his feet, and before he could check himself surely enough he began to turn slowly round and round as if he were being roasted.
Left alone now, Mr Gregory waited patiently till the rope came down again, when he caught it and secured it round his waist, after which he went to the bows of the gig, took the painter, and by pressing the stern of the ship managed to draw the prow close up to the hull, and then after a little search he discovered a ring-bolt upon the rudder-post, to which he drew the boat, running the painter right through and making it fast, so that the little vessel was well out of sight, unless seen by the crews of one of the praus.
This done he went to the stern, tightened the rope, and found that if he swung off he would go into the sea with a splash, an act sufficiently noisy to arouse the watch presumably set on deck.
This was out of the question, and he was about to lower himself into the water when the thought occurred to him to feel about the boat as to whether anything had been left; and it proved to be as well that he did, for beneath one of the thwarts his hand came in contact with a bag which proved to contain the ammunition and one of the revolvers.
Gregory secured the bag to his neck, hoping and believing that he would be able to keep it dry; and now, taking well hold of the rope, he let himself glide down over the side of the boat into the deep water, hanging suspended till the men above began to haul and without leaving him to climb, he was drawn up to the window and helped in, to stand dripping on the floor, and far more concerned about the contents of the bag than his own state.