Chapter Fourteen.Miss Pritty’s “Worst Fears” are more than realised.Turn we now to Miss Pritty—and a pretty sight she is when we turn to her! In her normal condition Miss Pritty is the pink of propriety and neatness. At the present moment she lies with her mouth open, and her eyes shut, hair dishevelled, garments disordered, slippers off, and stockings not properly on. Need we say that the sea is at the bottom of it? One of the most modest, gentle, unassuming, amiable of women has been brought to the condition of calmly and deliberately asserting that she “doesn’t care!”—doesn’t care for appearances; doesn’t care for character; doesn’t care for past reminiscences or future prospects; doesn’t care, in short, for anything—life and death included. It is a sad state of mind and body—happily a transient!“Stewardess.”“Yes, Miss?”“I shall die.”“Oh no, Miss, don’t say so. You’ll be quite well in a short time,” (the stewardess has a pleasant motherly way of encouraging the faint-hearted). “Don’t give way to it, Miss. You’ve no idea what a happytite you’ll ’ave in a few days. You’ll be soon able to eat hoceans of soup and ’eaps of fat pork, and—”She stops abruptly, for Miss Pritty has gone into sudden convulsions, in the midst of which she begs the stewardess, quite fiercely, to “Go away.”Let us draw a veil over the scene.Miss Pritty has been brought to this pass by Mr Charles Hazlit, whose daughter, Aileen, has been taken ill in China. Being a man of unbounded wealth, and understanding that Miss Pritty is a sympathetic friend of his daughter and an admirable nurse, he has written home to that lady requesting her, in rather peremptory terms, to “come out to them.” Miss Pritty, resenting the tone of the request as much as it was in her nature to resent anything, went off instanter, in a gush of tender love and sympathy, and took passage in the first ship that presented itself as being bound for the China seas. She did not know much about ships. Her maritime ideas were vague. If a washing-tub had been advertised just then as being A1 at Lloyds’ and about to put forth for that region of the earth with every possible convenience on board for the delight of human beings, she would have taken a berth in it at once.We do not intend to inflict Miss Pritty’s voyage on our reader. Suffice it to say that she survived it, reached China in robust health, and found her sick friend,—who had recovered,—in a somewhat similar condition.After an embrace such as women alone can bestow on each other, Miss Pritty, holding her friend’s hand, sat down to talk. After an hour of interjectional, exclamatory, disconnected, irrelevant, and largely idiotical converse—sustained chiefly by herself—Miss Pritty said:—“And oh! The pirates!”She said this with an expression of such awful solemnity that Aileen could not forbear smiling as she asked—“Did you see any?”“Gracious! No,” exclaimed Miss Pritty, with a look of horror, “but weheardof them. Only think of that! If I have one horror on earth which transcends all other horrors in horribleness, that horror is—pirates. I once had the misfortune to read of them when quite a girl—they were called Buccaneers, I think, in the book—and I have never got over it. Well, one day when we were sailing past the straits of Malacca,—I think it was,—our captain said they were swarming in these regions, and that he had actually seen them—more than that, had slain them with his own—oh! It is too horrible to think of. And our captain wassucha dear good man too. Not fierce one bit, andsokind to everybody on board, especially the ladies! I reallycannotunderstand it. There are such dreadfully strange mixtures of character in this world.No, he did not say he had slain them, but he used nautical expressions which amount to the same thing, I believe; he said he had spiflicated lots of ’em and sent no end of ’em to somebody’s locker. It may be wrong in me even to quote such expressions, dear Aileen, but I cannot explain myself properly if I don’t. It is fearful to know there are so many of them, ‘swarming,’ as our captain said.”“The worst of it is that many of the boatmen and small traders on the coast,” said Aileen, “are also pirates, or little better.”“Dreadful!” exclaimed her friend. “Why, ohwhydo people go to sea at all?”“To transport merchandise, I suppose,” said Aileen. “We should be rather badly off without tea, and silk, and spices, and such things—shouldn’t we?”“Tea and silk! Aileen. I would be content to wear cotton and drink coffee or cocoa—which latter I hate—if we only got rid of pirates.”“Even cotton, coffee, and cocoa are imported, I fear,” suggested Aileen.“Then I’d wear wool and drink water—anything for peace. OhhowI wish,” said Miss Pritty, with as much solemn enthusiasm as if she were the first who had wished it, “that I were the Queen of England—thenI’d let the world see something.”“What would you do, dear?” asked Aileen.“Do! Well, I’ll tell you. Being the head of the greatest nation of the earth—except, of course, the Americans, who assert their supremacy so constantly that theymustbe right—being the head, I say, of the greatest earthly nation, with that exception, I would order out all my gun-ships and turret-boats, and build new ones, and send them all round to the eastern seas, attack the pirates in their strongholds, and—and—blow them all out o’ the water, or send the whole concern to the bottom! You needn’t laugh, Aileen. Of course I do not use my own language. I quote from our captain. Really you have no idea what strong, and to me quite new expressions that dear man used. So powerful too, butnevernaughty. No, never. I often felt as if I ought to have been shocked by them, but on consideration I never was, for it was more the manner than the matter that seemed shocking. He was so gentle and kind, too, with it all. I shallneverforget how he gave me his arm the first day I was able to come on deck, after being reduced to a mere shadow by sea-sickness, and how tenderly he led me up and down, preventing me, as he expressed it, from lurching into the lee-scuppers, or going slap through the quarter-rails into the sea.”After a little more desultory converse, Aileen asked her friend if she were prepared to hear some bad news.Miss Pritty declared that she was, and evinced the truth of her declaration by looking prematurely horrified.Aileen, although by no means demonstrative, could not refrain from laying her head on her friend’s shoulder as she said, “Well then, dear Laura, we are beggars! Dear papa has failed in business, and we have not a penny in the world!”Miss Pritty was not nearly so horrified as she had anticipated being. Poor thing, she was so frequently in the condition of being without a penny that she had become accustomed to it. Her face, however, expressed deep sympathy, and her words corresponded therewith.“How did it happen?” she asked, at the close of a torrent of condolence.“Indeed I don’t know,” replied Aileen, looking up with a smile as she brushed away the two tears which the mention of their distress had forced into her eyes. “Papa says it was owing to the mismanagement of a head clerk and the dishonesty of a foreign agent, but whatever the cause, the fact is that we are ruined. Of course that means, I suppose, that we shall have no more than enough to procure the bare necessaries of life, and shall now, alas! Know experimentally what it is to be poor.”Miss Pritty, when in possession of “enough to procure the bare necessaries of life,” had been wont to consider herself rich, but her powers of sympathy were great. She scorned petty details, and poured herself out on herpoorfriend as a true comforter—counselled resignation as a matter of course, but suggested such a series of bright impossibilities for the future as caused Aileen to laugh, despite her grief.In the midst of one of these bursts of hilarity Mr Hazlit entered the room. The sound seemed to grate on his feelings, for he frowned as he walked, in an absent mood, up to a glass case full of gaudy birds, and turned his back to it under the impression, apparently, that it was a fire.“Aileen,” he said, jingling some loose coin in his pocket with one hand, while with the other he twisted the links of a massive gold chain, “your mirth is ill-timed. I am sorry, Miss Pritty, to have to announce to you, so soon after your arrival, that I am a beggar.”As he spoke he drew himself up to his full height, and looked, on the whole, like an over-fed, highly ornamented, and well-to-do beggar.“Yes,” he said, repeating the word with emphasis as if he were rather proud of it, “a beggar. I have not a possession in the world save the clothes on my back, which common decency demands that my creditors should allow to remain there. Now, I have all my life been a man of action, promptitude, decision. We return to England immediately—I do not mean before luncheon, but as soon as the vessel in which I have taken our passage is ready for sea, which will probably be in a few days. I am sorry, Miss Pritty, that I have put you to so much unnecessary trouble, but of course I could not foresee what was impending. All I can do now is to thank you, and pay your passage back in the same vessel with ourselves if you are disposed to go. That vessel, I may tell you, has been selected by me with strict regard to my altered position. It is a very small one, a mere schooner, in which there are no luxuries though enough of necessaries. You will therefore, my child, prepare for departure without delay.”In accordance with this decision Mr and Miss Hazlit and Miss Pritty found themselves not long afterwards on board theFairy Queenas the only passengers, and, in process of time, were conveyed by winds and currents to the neighbourhood of the island of Borneo, where we will leave them while we proceed onward to the island of Ceylon. Time and distance are a hindrance to most people. They are fortunately nothing whatever in the way of writers and readers!Here a strange scene presents itself; numerous pearl-divers are at work—most of them native, some European. But with these we have nothing particular to do, except in so far as they engage the attention of a certain man in a small boat, whose movements we will watch. The man had been rowed to the scene of action by two Malays from a large junk, or Chinese vessel, which lay in the offing. He was himself a Malay—tall, dark, stern, handsome, and of very powerful build. The rowers were perfectly silent and observant of his orders, which were more frequently conveyed by a glance or a nod than by words.Threading his way among the boats of the divers, the Malay skipper, for such he seemed, signed to the rowers to stop, and directed his attention specially to one boat. In truth this boat seemed worthy of attention because of the energy of the men on board of it. A diver had just leaped from its side into the sea. He was a stalwart man of colour, quite naked, and aided his descent by means of a large stone attached to each of the sandals which he wore. These sandals, on his desiring to return to the surface, could be thrown off, being recoverable by means of cords fastened to them. Just as he went down another naked diver came up from the bottom, and was assisted into the boat. A little blood trickled from his nose and ears, and he appeared altogether much exhausted. No wonder. He had not indeed remained down at any time more than a minute and a half, but he had dived nearly fifty times that day, and sent up a basket containing a hundred pearl oysters each time.Presently the man who had just descended reappeared. He also looked fagged, but after a short rest prepared again to descend. He had been under water about ninety seconds. Few divers can remain longer. The average time is one minute and a half, sometimes two minutes. It is said that these men are short-lived, and we can well believe it, for their work, although performed only during a short period of each year, is in violent opposition to the laws of nature.Directing his men to row on, our skipper soon came to another boat, which not only arrested his attention but aroused his curiosity, for never before had he seen so strange a sight. It was a large boat with novel apparatus on board of it, and white men—in very strange costume. In fact it was a party of European divers using the diving-dress among the pearl-fishers of Ceylon, and great was the interest they created, as well as the unbelief, scepticism, misgiving, and doubt which they drew forth—for, although not quite a novelty in those waters, the dress was new to many of the natives present on that occasion, and Easterns, not less than Westerns, are liable to prejudice!A large concourse of boats watched the costuming of the divers, and breathless interest was aroused as they went calmly over the side and remained down for more than an hour, sending up immense quantities of oysters. Of course liberal-minded men were made converts on the spot, and, equally of course, the narrow-minded remained “of the same opinion still.” Nevertheless, that day’s trial of Western ingenuity has borne much fruit, for we are now told, by the best authorities, that at the present time the diving-dress is very extensively used in sponge, pearl, and coral fisheries in many parts of the world where naked divers alone were employed not many years ago; and that in the Greek Archipelago and on the Turkish and Barbary coasts alone upwards of three hundred diving apparatuses are employed in the sponge fisheries, with immense advantage to all concerned and to the world at large.Leaving this interesting sight, our Malay skipper threaded his way through the fleet of boats and made for the shores of the Bay of Condatchy, which was crowded with eager men of many nations.This bay, on the west coast of Ceylon, is the busy scene of one of the world’s great fisheries of the pearl oyster. The fishing, being in the hands of Government, is kept under strict control. It is farmed out. The beds of oysters are annually-surveyed and reported on. They are divided into four equal portions, only one of which is worked each year. As the fishing produces vast wealth and affords scope for much speculation during the short period of its exercise, the bay during February, March, and April of each year presents a wondrous spectacle, for here Jews, Indians, merchants, jewellers, boatmen, conjurors to charm off the dreaded sharks, Brahmins, Roman Catholic priests, and many other professions and nationalities are represented, all in a state of speculation, hope, and excitement that fill their faces with animation and their frames with activity.The fleet of boats leaves the shore at 10 p.m. on the firing of a signal-gun, and returns at noon next day, when again the gun is fired, flags are hoisted, and Babel immediately ensues.It was noon when our Malay skipper landed. The gun had just been fired. Many of the boats were in, others were arriving. Leaving his boat in charge of his men, the skipper wended his way quickly through the excited crowd with the wandering yet earnest gaze of a man who searches for some one. Being head and shoulders above most of the men around him, he could do this with ease. For some time he was unsuccessful, but at last he espied an old grey-bearded Jew, and pushed his way towards him.“Ha! Pungarin, my excellent friend,” exclaimed the Jew, extending his hand, which the skipper merely condescended to touch, “how do you do? I amsooverjoyed to see you; you have business to transact eh?”“You may be quite sure, Moses, that I did not come to this nest of sharpers merely for pleasure,” replied Pungarin, brusquely.“Ah, my friend, you are really too severe. No doubt we are sharp, but that is a proper business qualification. Besides,ourtrade is legitimate, while yours, my friend, is—”The Jew stopped and cast a twinkling glance at his tall companion.“Isnotlegitimate, you would say,” observed Pungarin, “but that is open to dispute. In my opinion this is a world of robbers; the only difference among us is that some are sneaking robbers, others are open. Every man to his taste. I have been doing a little of the world’s work openly of late, and I come here with part of the result to give you a chance of robbing me in the other way.”“Nay, nay, you are altogether too hard,” returned the Jew, with a deprecating smile; “but come to my little office. We shall have more privacy there. How comes it, Pungarin, that you are so far from your own waters? It is a longish way from Ceylon to Borneo.”“How comes it,” replied the Malay, “that the sea-mew flies far from home? There is no limit to the flight of a sea-rover, save the sea-shore.”“True, true,” returned the Jew, with a nod of intelligence; “but here is my place of business. Enter my humble abode, and pray be seated.”Pungarin stooped to pass the low doorway, and seated himself beside a small deal table which, although destitute of a cloth, was thickly covered with ink-stains. The Malay rover was clad in a thin loose red jacket, a short petticoat or kilt, and yellow trousers. A red fez, with a kerchief wound round it turban fashion, covered his head. He was a well-made stalwart man, with a handsome but fierce-looking countenance.From beneath the loose jacket Pungarin drew forth a small, richly chased, metal casket. Placing it on the table he opened it, and, turning it upside down, poured from it a little cataract of glittering jewellery.“Ha! My friend,” exclaimed his companion, “you have got a prize. Where did you find it?”“I might answer, ‘What is that to you?’ but I won’t, for I wish to keep you in good humour till our business is concluded. Here, then, are the facts connected with the case. Not long ago some Englishmen came out to Hong-Kong to dive to a vessel which had been wrecked on an island off the coast. My worthy agent there, Dwarro, cast his eyes on them and soon found out all about their plans. Dwarro is a very intelligent fellow. Like yourself, he has a good deal of the sneaking robber about him. He ascertained that the wreck had much gold coin in it, and so managed that they hired his boat to go off to it with their diving apparatus. Somewhat against their will he accompanied them. They were very successful. The first time they went on shore, they took with them gold to the value of about twenty thousand pounds. Dwarro cleverly managed to have this secured a few hours after it was landed. He also made arrangements to have a fleet of my fellows ready, so that when more gold had been recovered from the wreck they might surround them on the spot and secure it. But the young Englishman at the head of the party was more than a match for us. He cowed Dwarro, and cleverly escaped to land. There, however, another of my agents had the good fortune to discover the Englishmen while they were landing their gold. He was too late, indeed, to secure the gold, which had been sent on inland in charge of two Chinamen, but he was lucky enough to discover this casket in the stern-sheets of their boat. The Englishmen fought hard for it, especially the young fellow in command, who was more like a tiger than a man, and knocked down half a dozen of our men before he was overpowered. We would have cut his throat then and there, but a party of inhabitants, guided by one of the Chinamen, came to the rescue, and we were glad to push off with what we had got. Now, Moses, this casket is worth a good round sum. Dwarro wisely took the trouble to make inquiries about it through one of the Chinamen, who happened to be an honest man and fortunately also very stupid. From this man, Chok-foo, who is easily imposed on, he learned that the casket belongs to a very rich English merchant, who would give anything to recover it, because it belonged to his wife, who is dead—”“A rich English merchant?” interrupted Moses, “we Jews are acquainted pretty well with all therichEnglish merchants. Do you know his name?”“Yes; Charles Hazlit,” answered the Malay.“Indeed! Well—go on.”“Well,” said Pungarin, abruptly, “I have nothing more to say, except, what will you give for these things?”“One thousand pounds would be a large sum to offer,” said the Jew, slowly.“And a very small one to accept,” returned Pungarin, as he slowly gathered the gems together and put them back into the casket.“Nay, my friend, be not so hasty,” said Moses; “what do you ask for them?”“I shall ask nothing,” replied the Malay; “the fact is, I think it probable that I may be able to screwmorethan their value out of Mr Hazlit.”“I am sorry to disappoint your expectations,” returned the Jew, with something approaching to a sneer, as he rose; and, selecting one from a pile of English newspapers, slowly read out to his companion the announcement of the failure of the firm of Hazlit and Company. “You see, my good friend, we Jews are very knowing as well as sharp. It were better for you to transact your little business with me.”Knowing and sharp as he was, the Jew was not sufficiently so to foresee the result of his line of conduct with the Malay rover. Instead of giving in and making the best of circumstances, that freebooter, with characteristic impetuosity, shut the steel box with a loud snap, put it under his arm, rose, and walked out of the place without uttering a word. He went down to the beach and rowed away, leaving Moses to moralise on the uncertainty of all human affairs.Favouring gales carried the Malay pirate-junk swiftly to the east. The same gales checked, baffled, and retarded the schoonerFairy Queenon her voyage to the west.“Darling Aileen,” said Miss Pritty, recovering from a paroxysm, “did you ever hear of any one dying of sea-sickness?”“I never did,” answered Aileen, with a languid smile.Both ladies lay in their berths, their pale cheeks resting on the woodwork thereof, and their eyes resting pitifully on each other.“It is awful—horrible!” sighed Miss Pritty at at the end of another paroxysm.Aileen, who was not so ill as her friend, smiled but said nothing. Miss Pritty was past smiling, but not quite past speaking.“What dreadful noises occur on board ships,” she said, after a long pause; “such rattling, and thumping, and creaking, and stamping. Perhaps the sailors get their feet wet and are so cold that they require to stamp constantly to warm them!”Aileen displayed all her teeth and said, “Perhaps.”At that moment the stamping became so great, and was accompanied by so much shouting, that both ladies became attentive.A few moments later their door opened violently, and Mr Hazlit appeared with a very pale face. He was obviously in a state of great perturbation.“My dears,” he said, hurriedly, “excuse my intruding—we are—attacked—pirates—get up; put on your things!”His retreat and the closing of the door was followed by a crash overhead and a yell. Immediately after the schooner quivered from stem to stern, under the shock of her only carronade, which was fired at the moment; the shot being accompanied by a loud cheer.“Oh horror!” exclaimed Miss Pritty, “my worst fears are realised!”Poor Miss Pritty was wrong. Like many people whose “worst fears” have been engendered at a civilised fireside, she was onlybeginningto realise a few of her fears. She lived to learn thather“worst fears” were mere child’s play to the world’s dread realities.Her sea-sickness, however, vanished as if by magic, and in a few minutes she and her companion were dressed.During those few minutes the noise on deck had increased, and the shouts, yells, and curses told them too plainly that men were engaged in doing what we might well believe is the work only of devils. Then shrieks of despair followed.Presently all was silent. In a few minutes the cabin door opened, and Pungarin entered.“Go on deck,” he said, in a quiet tone.The poor ladies obeyed. On reaching the deck the first sight that met them was Mr Hazlit standing by the binnacle. A Malay pirate with a drawn sword stood beside him, but he was otherwise unfettered. They evidently thought him harmless. Near to him stood the skipper of theFairy Queenwith the stern resolution of a true Briton on his countenance, yet with the sad thoughtful glance of one trained under Christian influences in his eye. His hands were bound, and a Malay pirate stood on either side of him. He was obviouslynotdeemed harmless!The decks were everywhere covered with blood, but not a man of the crew was to be seen.“You are the captain of this schooner?” asked Pungarin.“Yes,” replied the prisoner, firmly.“Have you treasure on board?”“No.”“We shall soon find out the truth as to that. Meanwhile, who is this?” (pointing to Mr Hazlit.)The captain was silent and thoughtful for a few moments. He was well aware of the nature of the men with whom he had to do. He had seen his crew murdered in cold blood. He knew that his own end drew near.“This gentleman,” he said, slowly, “is a wealthy British merchant—well-known and respected in England. He has rich friends. It may be worth your while to spare him.”“And this,” added the pirate captain, pointing to Aileen.“Is his only child,” answered the other.“Your name?” asked Pungarin.“Charles Hazlit,” said the hapless merchant.A sudden flash of intelligence lit up for a moment the swarthy features of the pirate. It passed quickly. Then he spoke in an undertone to one of his men, who, with the assistance of another, led the captain of the schooner to the forward part of the ship. A stifled groan, followed by a plunge, was heard by the horrified survivors. That was all they ever knew of the fate of their late captain. But for what some would term a mere accident, even that and their own fate would have remained unknown to the world—at least during the revolution of Time. The romances of life are often enacted by commonplace people. Many good ships with ordinary people on board, (like you and me, reader), leave port, and are “never again heard of.” Who can tell what tales may be revealed in regard to such, in Eternity?TheFairy Queenwas one of those vessels whose fate it was to have her “fate” revealed in Time.We cannot state with certainty what were the motives which induced Pungarin to spare the lives of Mr Hazlit and his family; all we know is, that he transferred them to his junk. After taking everything of value out of the schooner, he scuttled her.Not many days after, he attacked a small hamlet on the coast of Borneo, massacred most of the men, saved a few of the young and powerful of them—to serve his purposes—also some of the younger women and children, and continued his voyage.The poor English victims whom he had thus got possession of lived, meanwhile, in a condition of what we may term unreality. They could not absolutely credit their senses. They felt strangely impelled to believe that a hideous nightmare had beset them—that they were dreaming; that they would unquestionably awake at last, and find that it was time to get up to a substantial and very commonplace English breakfast. But, mingled with this feeling, or rather, underlying it, there was a terrible assurance that the dream was true. So is it throughout life. What is fiction to you, reader, is fact to some one else, and that which isyourfact is some one else’s fiction. If any lesson is taught by this, surely it is the lesson ofsympathy—that we should try more earnestly than we do to throw ourselves out of ourselves into the place of others.Poor Miss Pritty and Aileen learned this lesson. From that date forward, instead of merely shaking their heads and sighing in a hopeless sort of way, and doing nothing—or nearly nothing—to check the evils they deplored, they became red-hot enthusiasts in condemning piracy and slavery, (which latter is the grossest form of piracy), and despotism of every kind, whether practised by a private pirate like Pungarin, or by a weak pirate like the Sultan of Zanzibar, or by comparatively strong pirates like the nations of Spain and Portugal.In course of time the pirate-junk anchored at the mouth of a river, and much of her freight, with all her captives, was transferred to native boats. These were propelled by means of numerous oars, and the male captives were now set to work at these oars.Mr Hazlit and his daughter and Miss Pritty were allowed to sit idle in the stem of one of the boats, and for a time they felt their drooping spirits revive a little under the influence of the sweet sunshine while they rowed along shore, but as time passed these feelings were rudely put to flight.The captives were various in their character and nationality, as well as in their spirits and temperaments. These had all to be brought into quick subjection and working order. There were far more captives than the pirates knew what to do with. One of those who sat on the thwart next to the Hazlits had been a policeman in one of the China ports. He was a high-spirited young fellow. It was obvious that his soul was seething into rebellion. The pirate in charge of the boat noted the fact, and whispered to one of his men, who thereupon ordered the policeman to pull harder, and accompanied his order with a cut from a bamboo cane.Instantly the youth sprang up, and tried to burst his bonds. He succeeded, but before he could do anything, he was overpowered by half a dozen men, and re-bound. Then two men sat down beside him, each with a small stick, with which they beat the muscles of his arms and legs, until their power was completely taken away. This done, they left him, a living heap of impotent flesh in the bottom of the boat, and a salutary warning to the rebellious.But it did not end here. As soon as the poor fellow had recovered sufficiently to move, he was again set to the oar, and forced to row as best he could.The voyage along the coast, and up a river into which they finally turned, occupied several days. At first, on starting, Aileen and her companions had looked with tender pity on the captives as they toiled at the heavy oars, but this deepened into earnest solicitude as they saw them, after hours of toil, gasping for want of water and apparently faint from want of food. Next day, although they had lain down in the bottom of the boat supperless, the rest had refreshed most of them, and they pulled on with some degree of vigour. But noon came, and with it culminated the heat of a burning sun. Still no water was served out, no food distributed. Mr Hazlit and his party had biscuit and water given them in the morning and at noon. During the latter meal Aileen observed the native policeman regarding her food with such eager wolfish eyes that under an impulse of uncontrollable feeling she held out her can of water to him. He seized and drank the half of it before one of the pirates had time to dash it from his lips.Presently a youth, who seemed less robust than his comrades, uttered a wild shriek, threw up his hands, and fell backwards. At once the pirates detached him from his oar, threw him into the sea, and made another captive fill his place. And now, to their inexpressible horror, the Hazlits discovered that the practice of these wretches—when they happened to have a super-abundance of captives—was to make them row on without meat or drink, until they dropt at the oar, and then throw them overboard! Reader, we do not deal in fiction here, we describe what we have heard from the mouth of a trustworthy eye-witness.In these circumstances the harrowing scenes that were enacted before the English ladies were indeed fitted to arouse that “horror” which poor Miss Pritty, in her innocence, had imagined to have reached its worst. We will pass it over. Many of the captives died. A few of the strongest survived, and these, at last, were fed a little in order to enable them to complete the journey. Among them was the native policeman, who had suddenly discovered that his wisest course of action, in the meantime, was submission.At last the boats reached a village in one of those rivers whose low and wooded shores afford shelter to too many nests of Malay pirates even at the present time—and no wonder! When the rulers and grandees of some Eastern nations live by plunder, what can be expected of the people?The few captives who survived were sent ashore. Among them were our English friends.
Turn we now to Miss Pritty—and a pretty sight she is when we turn to her! In her normal condition Miss Pritty is the pink of propriety and neatness. At the present moment she lies with her mouth open, and her eyes shut, hair dishevelled, garments disordered, slippers off, and stockings not properly on. Need we say that the sea is at the bottom of it? One of the most modest, gentle, unassuming, amiable of women has been brought to the condition of calmly and deliberately asserting that she “doesn’t care!”—doesn’t care for appearances; doesn’t care for character; doesn’t care for past reminiscences or future prospects; doesn’t care, in short, for anything—life and death included. It is a sad state of mind and body—happily a transient!
“Stewardess.”
“Yes, Miss?”
“I shall die.”
“Oh no, Miss, don’t say so. You’ll be quite well in a short time,” (the stewardess has a pleasant motherly way of encouraging the faint-hearted). “Don’t give way to it, Miss. You’ve no idea what a happytite you’ll ’ave in a few days. You’ll be soon able to eat hoceans of soup and ’eaps of fat pork, and—”
She stops abruptly, for Miss Pritty has gone into sudden convulsions, in the midst of which she begs the stewardess, quite fiercely, to “Go away.”
Let us draw a veil over the scene.
Miss Pritty has been brought to this pass by Mr Charles Hazlit, whose daughter, Aileen, has been taken ill in China. Being a man of unbounded wealth, and understanding that Miss Pritty is a sympathetic friend of his daughter and an admirable nurse, he has written home to that lady requesting her, in rather peremptory terms, to “come out to them.” Miss Pritty, resenting the tone of the request as much as it was in her nature to resent anything, went off instanter, in a gush of tender love and sympathy, and took passage in the first ship that presented itself as being bound for the China seas. She did not know much about ships. Her maritime ideas were vague. If a washing-tub had been advertised just then as being A1 at Lloyds’ and about to put forth for that region of the earth with every possible convenience on board for the delight of human beings, she would have taken a berth in it at once.
We do not intend to inflict Miss Pritty’s voyage on our reader. Suffice it to say that she survived it, reached China in robust health, and found her sick friend,—who had recovered,—in a somewhat similar condition.
After an embrace such as women alone can bestow on each other, Miss Pritty, holding her friend’s hand, sat down to talk. After an hour of interjectional, exclamatory, disconnected, irrelevant, and largely idiotical converse—sustained chiefly by herself—Miss Pritty said:—
“And oh! The pirates!”
She said this with an expression of such awful solemnity that Aileen could not forbear smiling as she asked—
“Did you see any?”
“Gracious! No,” exclaimed Miss Pritty, with a look of horror, “but weheardof them. Only think of that! If I have one horror on earth which transcends all other horrors in horribleness, that horror is—pirates. I once had the misfortune to read of them when quite a girl—they were called Buccaneers, I think, in the book—and I have never got over it. Well, one day when we were sailing past the straits of Malacca,—I think it was,—our captain said they were swarming in these regions, and that he had actually seen them—more than that, had slain them with his own—oh! It is too horrible to think of. And our captain wassucha dear good man too. Not fierce one bit, andsokind to everybody on board, especially the ladies! I reallycannotunderstand it. There are such dreadfully strange mixtures of character in this world.No, he did not say he had slain them, but he used nautical expressions which amount to the same thing, I believe; he said he had spiflicated lots of ’em and sent no end of ’em to somebody’s locker. It may be wrong in me even to quote such expressions, dear Aileen, but I cannot explain myself properly if I don’t. It is fearful to know there are so many of them, ‘swarming,’ as our captain said.”
“The worst of it is that many of the boatmen and small traders on the coast,” said Aileen, “are also pirates, or little better.”
“Dreadful!” exclaimed her friend. “Why, ohwhydo people go to sea at all?”
“To transport merchandise, I suppose,” said Aileen. “We should be rather badly off without tea, and silk, and spices, and such things—shouldn’t we?”
“Tea and silk! Aileen. I would be content to wear cotton and drink coffee or cocoa—which latter I hate—if we only got rid of pirates.”
“Even cotton, coffee, and cocoa are imported, I fear,” suggested Aileen.
“Then I’d wear wool and drink water—anything for peace. OhhowI wish,” said Miss Pritty, with as much solemn enthusiasm as if she were the first who had wished it, “that I were the Queen of England—thenI’d let the world see something.”
“What would you do, dear?” asked Aileen.
“Do! Well, I’ll tell you. Being the head of the greatest nation of the earth—except, of course, the Americans, who assert their supremacy so constantly that theymustbe right—being the head, I say, of the greatest earthly nation, with that exception, I would order out all my gun-ships and turret-boats, and build new ones, and send them all round to the eastern seas, attack the pirates in their strongholds, and—and—blow them all out o’ the water, or send the whole concern to the bottom! You needn’t laugh, Aileen. Of course I do not use my own language. I quote from our captain. Really you have no idea what strong, and to me quite new expressions that dear man used. So powerful too, butnevernaughty. No, never. I often felt as if I ought to have been shocked by them, but on consideration I never was, for it was more the manner than the matter that seemed shocking. He was so gentle and kind, too, with it all. I shallneverforget how he gave me his arm the first day I was able to come on deck, after being reduced to a mere shadow by sea-sickness, and how tenderly he led me up and down, preventing me, as he expressed it, from lurching into the lee-scuppers, or going slap through the quarter-rails into the sea.”
After a little more desultory converse, Aileen asked her friend if she were prepared to hear some bad news.
Miss Pritty declared that she was, and evinced the truth of her declaration by looking prematurely horrified.
Aileen, although by no means demonstrative, could not refrain from laying her head on her friend’s shoulder as she said, “Well then, dear Laura, we are beggars! Dear papa has failed in business, and we have not a penny in the world!”
Miss Pritty was not nearly so horrified as she had anticipated being. Poor thing, she was so frequently in the condition of being without a penny that she had become accustomed to it. Her face, however, expressed deep sympathy, and her words corresponded therewith.
“How did it happen?” she asked, at the close of a torrent of condolence.
“Indeed I don’t know,” replied Aileen, looking up with a smile as she brushed away the two tears which the mention of their distress had forced into her eyes. “Papa says it was owing to the mismanagement of a head clerk and the dishonesty of a foreign agent, but whatever the cause, the fact is that we are ruined. Of course that means, I suppose, that we shall have no more than enough to procure the bare necessaries of life, and shall now, alas! Know experimentally what it is to be poor.”
Miss Pritty, when in possession of “enough to procure the bare necessaries of life,” had been wont to consider herself rich, but her powers of sympathy were great. She scorned petty details, and poured herself out on herpoorfriend as a true comforter—counselled resignation as a matter of course, but suggested such a series of bright impossibilities for the future as caused Aileen to laugh, despite her grief.
In the midst of one of these bursts of hilarity Mr Hazlit entered the room. The sound seemed to grate on his feelings, for he frowned as he walked, in an absent mood, up to a glass case full of gaudy birds, and turned his back to it under the impression, apparently, that it was a fire.
“Aileen,” he said, jingling some loose coin in his pocket with one hand, while with the other he twisted the links of a massive gold chain, “your mirth is ill-timed. I am sorry, Miss Pritty, to have to announce to you, so soon after your arrival, that I am a beggar.”
As he spoke he drew himself up to his full height, and looked, on the whole, like an over-fed, highly ornamented, and well-to-do beggar.
“Yes,” he said, repeating the word with emphasis as if he were rather proud of it, “a beggar. I have not a possession in the world save the clothes on my back, which common decency demands that my creditors should allow to remain there. Now, I have all my life been a man of action, promptitude, decision. We return to England immediately—I do not mean before luncheon, but as soon as the vessel in which I have taken our passage is ready for sea, which will probably be in a few days. I am sorry, Miss Pritty, that I have put you to so much unnecessary trouble, but of course I could not foresee what was impending. All I can do now is to thank you, and pay your passage back in the same vessel with ourselves if you are disposed to go. That vessel, I may tell you, has been selected by me with strict regard to my altered position. It is a very small one, a mere schooner, in which there are no luxuries though enough of necessaries. You will therefore, my child, prepare for departure without delay.”
In accordance with this decision Mr and Miss Hazlit and Miss Pritty found themselves not long afterwards on board theFairy Queenas the only passengers, and, in process of time, were conveyed by winds and currents to the neighbourhood of the island of Borneo, where we will leave them while we proceed onward to the island of Ceylon. Time and distance are a hindrance to most people. They are fortunately nothing whatever in the way of writers and readers!
Here a strange scene presents itself; numerous pearl-divers are at work—most of them native, some European. But with these we have nothing particular to do, except in so far as they engage the attention of a certain man in a small boat, whose movements we will watch. The man had been rowed to the scene of action by two Malays from a large junk, or Chinese vessel, which lay in the offing. He was himself a Malay—tall, dark, stern, handsome, and of very powerful build. The rowers were perfectly silent and observant of his orders, which were more frequently conveyed by a glance or a nod than by words.
Threading his way among the boats of the divers, the Malay skipper, for such he seemed, signed to the rowers to stop, and directed his attention specially to one boat. In truth this boat seemed worthy of attention because of the energy of the men on board of it. A diver had just leaped from its side into the sea. He was a stalwart man of colour, quite naked, and aided his descent by means of a large stone attached to each of the sandals which he wore. These sandals, on his desiring to return to the surface, could be thrown off, being recoverable by means of cords fastened to them. Just as he went down another naked diver came up from the bottom, and was assisted into the boat. A little blood trickled from his nose and ears, and he appeared altogether much exhausted. No wonder. He had not indeed remained down at any time more than a minute and a half, but he had dived nearly fifty times that day, and sent up a basket containing a hundred pearl oysters each time.
Presently the man who had just descended reappeared. He also looked fagged, but after a short rest prepared again to descend. He had been under water about ninety seconds. Few divers can remain longer. The average time is one minute and a half, sometimes two minutes. It is said that these men are short-lived, and we can well believe it, for their work, although performed only during a short period of each year, is in violent opposition to the laws of nature.
Directing his men to row on, our skipper soon came to another boat, which not only arrested his attention but aroused his curiosity, for never before had he seen so strange a sight. It was a large boat with novel apparatus on board of it, and white men—in very strange costume. In fact it was a party of European divers using the diving-dress among the pearl-fishers of Ceylon, and great was the interest they created, as well as the unbelief, scepticism, misgiving, and doubt which they drew forth—for, although not quite a novelty in those waters, the dress was new to many of the natives present on that occasion, and Easterns, not less than Westerns, are liable to prejudice!
A large concourse of boats watched the costuming of the divers, and breathless interest was aroused as they went calmly over the side and remained down for more than an hour, sending up immense quantities of oysters. Of course liberal-minded men were made converts on the spot, and, equally of course, the narrow-minded remained “of the same opinion still.” Nevertheless, that day’s trial of Western ingenuity has borne much fruit, for we are now told, by the best authorities, that at the present time the diving-dress is very extensively used in sponge, pearl, and coral fisheries in many parts of the world where naked divers alone were employed not many years ago; and that in the Greek Archipelago and on the Turkish and Barbary coasts alone upwards of three hundred diving apparatuses are employed in the sponge fisheries, with immense advantage to all concerned and to the world at large.
Leaving this interesting sight, our Malay skipper threaded his way through the fleet of boats and made for the shores of the Bay of Condatchy, which was crowded with eager men of many nations.
This bay, on the west coast of Ceylon, is the busy scene of one of the world’s great fisheries of the pearl oyster. The fishing, being in the hands of Government, is kept under strict control. It is farmed out. The beds of oysters are annually-surveyed and reported on. They are divided into four equal portions, only one of which is worked each year. As the fishing produces vast wealth and affords scope for much speculation during the short period of its exercise, the bay during February, March, and April of each year presents a wondrous spectacle, for here Jews, Indians, merchants, jewellers, boatmen, conjurors to charm off the dreaded sharks, Brahmins, Roman Catholic priests, and many other professions and nationalities are represented, all in a state of speculation, hope, and excitement that fill their faces with animation and their frames with activity.
The fleet of boats leaves the shore at 10 p.m. on the firing of a signal-gun, and returns at noon next day, when again the gun is fired, flags are hoisted, and Babel immediately ensues.
It was noon when our Malay skipper landed. The gun had just been fired. Many of the boats were in, others were arriving. Leaving his boat in charge of his men, the skipper wended his way quickly through the excited crowd with the wandering yet earnest gaze of a man who searches for some one. Being head and shoulders above most of the men around him, he could do this with ease. For some time he was unsuccessful, but at last he espied an old grey-bearded Jew, and pushed his way towards him.
“Ha! Pungarin, my excellent friend,” exclaimed the Jew, extending his hand, which the skipper merely condescended to touch, “how do you do? I amsooverjoyed to see you; you have business to transact eh?”
“You may be quite sure, Moses, that I did not come to this nest of sharpers merely for pleasure,” replied Pungarin, brusquely.
“Ah, my friend, you are really too severe. No doubt we are sharp, but that is a proper business qualification. Besides,ourtrade is legitimate, while yours, my friend, is—”
The Jew stopped and cast a twinkling glance at his tall companion.
“Isnotlegitimate, you would say,” observed Pungarin, “but that is open to dispute. In my opinion this is a world of robbers; the only difference among us is that some are sneaking robbers, others are open. Every man to his taste. I have been doing a little of the world’s work openly of late, and I come here with part of the result to give you a chance of robbing me in the other way.”
“Nay, nay, you are altogether too hard,” returned the Jew, with a deprecating smile; “but come to my little office. We shall have more privacy there. How comes it, Pungarin, that you are so far from your own waters? It is a longish way from Ceylon to Borneo.”
“How comes it,” replied the Malay, “that the sea-mew flies far from home? There is no limit to the flight of a sea-rover, save the sea-shore.”
“True, true,” returned the Jew, with a nod of intelligence; “but here is my place of business. Enter my humble abode, and pray be seated.”
Pungarin stooped to pass the low doorway, and seated himself beside a small deal table which, although destitute of a cloth, was thickly covered with ink-stains. The Malay rover was clad in a thin loose red jacket, a short petticoat or kilt, and yellow trousers. A red fez, with a kerchief wound round it turban fashion, covered his head. He was a well-made stalwart man, with a handsome but fierce-looking countenance.
From beneath the loose jacket Pungarin drew forth a small, richly chased, metal casket. Placing it on the table he opened it, and, turning it upside down, poured from it a little cataract of glittering jewellery.
“Ha! My friend,” exclaimed his companion, “you have got a prize. Where did you find it?”
“I might answer, ‘What is that to you?’ but I won’t, for I wish to keep you in good humour till our business is concluded. Here, then, are the facts connected with the case. Not long ago some Englishmen came out to Hong-Kong to dive to a vessel which had been wrecked on an island off the coast. My worthy agent there, Dwarro, cast his eyes on them and soon found out all about their plans. Dwarro is a very intelligent fellow. Like yourself, he has a good deal of the sneaking robber about him. He ascertained that the wreck had much gold coin in it, and so managed that they hired his boat to go off to it with their diving apparatus. Somewhat against their will he accompanied them. They were very successful. The first time they went on shore, they took with them gold to the value of about twenty thousand pounds. Dwarro cleverly managed to have this secured a few hours after it was landed. He also made arrangements to have a fleet of my fellows ready, so that when more gold had been recovered from the wreck they might surround them on the spot and secure it. But the young Englishman at the head of the party was more than a match for us. He cowed Dwarro, and cleverly escaped to land. There, however, another of my agents had the good fortune to discover the Englishmen while they were landing their gold. He was too late, indeed, to secure the gold, which had been sent on inland in charge of two Chinamen, but he was lucky enough to discover this casket in the stern-sheets of their boat. The Englishmen fought hard for it, especially the young fellow in command, who was more like a tiger than a man, and knocked down half a dozen of our men before he was overpowered. We would have cut his throat then and there, but a party of inhabitants, guided by one of the Chinamen, came to the rescue, and we were glad to push off with what we had got. Now, Moses, this casket is worth a good round sum. Dwarro wisely took the trouble to make inquiries about it through one of the Chinamen, who happened to be an honest man and fortunately also very stupid. From this man, Chok-foo, who is easily imposed on, he learned that the casket belongs to a very rich English merchant, who would give anything to recover it, because it belonged to his wife, who is dead—”
“A rich English merchant?” interrupted Moses, “we Jews are acquainted pretty well with all therichEnglish merchants. Do you know his name?”
“Yes; Charles Hazlit,” answered the Malay.
“Indeed! Well—go on.”
“Well,” said Pungarin, abruptly, “I have nothing more to say, except, what will you give for these things?”
“One thousand pounds would be a large sum to offer,” said the Jew, slowly.
“And a very small one to accept,” returned Pungarin, as he slowly gathered the gems together and put them back into the casket.
“Nay, my friend, be not so hasty,” said Moses; “what do you ask for them?”
“I shall ask nothing,” replied the Malay; “the fact is, I think it probable that I may be able to screwmorethan their value out of Mr Hazlit.”
“I am sorry to disappoint your expectations,” returned the Jew, with something approaching to a sneer, as he rose; and, selecting one from a pile of English newspapers, slowly read out to his companion the announcement of the failure of the firm of Hazlit and Company. “You see, my good friend, we Jews are very knowing as well as sharp. It were better for you to transact your little business with me.”
Knowing and sharp as he was, the Jew was not sufficiently so to foresee the result of his line of conduct with the Malay rover. Instead of giving in and making the best of circumstances, that freebooter, with characteristic impetuosity, shut the steel box with a loud snap, put it under his arm, rose, and walked out of the place without uttering a word. He went down to the beach and rowed away, leaving Moses to moralise on the uncertainty of all human affairs.
Favouring gales carried the Malay pirate-junk swiftly to the east. The same gales checked, baffled, and retarded the schoonerFairy Queenon her voyage to the west.
“Darling Aileen,” said Miss Pritty, recovering from a paroxysm, “did you ever hear of any one dying of sea-sickness?”
“I never did,” answered Aileen, with a languid smile.
Both ladies lay in their berths, their pale cheeks resting on the woodwork thereof, and their eyes resting pitifully on each other.
“It is awful—horrible!” sighed Miss Pritty at at the end of another paroxysm.
Aileen, who was not so ill as her friend, smiled but said nothing. Miss Pritty was past smiling, but not quite past speaking.
“What dreadful noises occur on board ships,” she said, after a long pause; “such rattling, and thumping, and creaking, and stamping. Perhaps the sailors get their feet wet and are so cold that they require to stamp constantly to warm them!”
Aileen displayed all her teeth and said, “Perhaps.”
At that moment the stamping became so great, and was accompanied by so much shouting, that both ladies became attentive.
A few moments later their door opened violently, and Mr Hazlit appeared with a very pale face. He was obviously in a state of great perturbation.
“My dears,” he said, hurriedly, “excuse my intruding—we are—attacked—pirates—get up; put on your things!”
His retreat and the closing of the door was followed by a crash overhead and a yell. Immediately after the schooner quivered from stem to stern, under the shock of her only carronade, which was fired at the moment; the shot being accompanied by a loud cheer.
“Oh horror!” exclaimed Miss Pritty, “my worst fears are realised!”
Poor Miss Pritty was wrong. Like many people whose “worst fears” have been engendered at a civilised fireside, she was onlybeginningto realise a few of her fears. She lived to learn thather“worst fears” were mere child’s play to the world’s dread realities.
Her sea-sickness, however, vanished as if by magic, and in a few minutes she and her companion were dressed.
During those few minutes the noise on deck had increased, and the shouts, yells, and curses told them too plainly that men were engaged in doing what we might well believe is the work only of devils. Then shrieks of despair followed.
Presently all was silent. In a few minutes the cabin door opened, and Pungarin entered.
“Go on deck,” he said, in a quiet tone.
The poor ladies obeyed. On reaching the deck the first sight that met them was Mr Hazlit standing by the binnacle. A Malay pirate with a drawn sword stood beside him, but he was otherwise unfettered. They evidently thought him harmless. Near to him stood the skipper of theFairy Queenwith the stern resolution of a true Briton on his countenance, yet with the sad thoughtful glance of one trained under Christian influences in his eye. His hands were bound, and a Malay pirate stood on either side of him. He was obviouslynotdeemed harmless!
The decks were everywhere covered with blood, but not a man of the crew was to be seen.
“You are the captain of this schooner?” asked Pungarin.
“Yes,” replied the prisoner, firmly.
“Have you treasure on board?”
“No.”
“We shall soon find out the truth as to that. Meanwhile, who is this?” (pointing to Mr Hazlit.)
The captain was silent and thoughtful for a few moments. He was well aware of the nature of the men with whom he had to do. He had seen his crew murdered in cold blood. He knew that his own end drew near.
“This gentleman,” he said, slowly, “is a wealthy British merchant—well-known and respected in England. He has rich friends. It may be worth your while to spare him.”
“And this,” added the pirate captain, pointing to Aileen.
“Is his only child,” answered the other.
“Your name?” asked Pungarin.
“Charles Hazlit,” said the hapless merchant.
A sudden flash of intelligence lit up for a moment the swarthy features of the pirate. It passed quickly. Then he spoke in an undertone to one of his men, who, with the assistance of another, led the captain of the schooner to the forward part of the ship. A stifled groan, followed by a plunge, was heard by the horrified survivors. That was all they ever knew of the fate of their late captain. But for what some would term a mere accident, even that and their own fate would have remained unknown to the world—at least during the revolution of Time. The romances of life are often enacted by commonplace people. Many good ships with ordinary people on board, (like you and me, reader), leave port, and are “never again heard of.” Who can tell what tales may be revealed in regard to such, in Eternity?
TheFairy Queenwas one of those vessels whose fate it was to have her “fate” revealed in Time.
We cannot state with certainty what were the motives which induced Pungarin to spare the lives of Mr Hazlit and his family; all we know is, that he transferred them to his junk. After taking everything of value out of the schooner, he scuttled her.
Not many days after, he attacked a small hamlet on the coast of Borneo, massacred most of the men, saved a few of the young and powerful of them—to serve his purposes—also some of the younger women and children, and continued his voyage.
The poor English victims whom he had thus got possession of lived, meanwhile, in a condition of what we may term unreality. They could not absolutely credit their senses. They felt strangely impelled to believe that a hideous nightmare had beset them—that they were dreaming; that they would unquestionably awake at last, and find that it was time to get up to a substantial and very commonplace English breakfast. But, mingled with this feeling, or rather, underlying it, there was a terrible assurance that the dream was true. So is it throughout life. What is fiction to you, reader, is fact to some one else, and that which isyourfact is some one else’s fiction. If any lesson is taught by this, surely it is the lesson ofsympathy—that we should try more earnestly than we do to throw ourselves out of ourselves into the place of others.
Poor Miss Pritty and Aileen learned this lesson. From that date forward, instead of merely shaking their heads and sighing in a hopeless sort of way, and doing nothing—or nearly nothing—to check the evils they deplored, they became red-hot enthusiasts in condemning piracy and slavery, (which latter is the grossest form of piracy), and despotism of every kind, whether practised by a private pirate like Pungarin, or by a weak pirate like the Sultan of Zanzibar, or by comparatively strong pirates like the nations of Spain and Portugal.
In course of time the pirate-junk anchored at the mouth of a river, and much of her freight, with all her captives, was transferred to native boats. These were propelled by means of numerous oars, and the male captives were now set to work at these oars.
Mr Hazlit and his daughter and Miss Pritty were allowed to sit idle in the stem of one of the boats, and for a time they felt their drooping spirits revive a little under the influence of the sweet sunshine while they rowed along shore, but as time passed these feelings were rudely put to flight.
The captives were various in their character and nationality, as well as in their spirits and temperaments. These had all to be brought into quick subjection and working order. There were far more captives than the pirates knew what to do with. One of those who sat on the thwart next to the Hazlits had been a policeman in one of the China ports. He was a high-spirited young fellow. It was obvious that his soul was seething into rebellion. The pirate in charge of the boat noted the fact, and whispered to one of his men, who thereupon ordered the policeman to pull harder, and accompanied his order with a cut from a bamboo cane.
Instantly the youth sprang up, and tried to burst his bonds. He succeeded, but before he could do anything, he was overpowered by half a dozen men, and re-bound. Then two men sat down beside him, each with a small stick, with which they beat the muscles of his arms and legs, until their power was completely taken away. This done, they left him, a living heap of impotent flesh in the bottom of the boat, and a salutary warning to the rebellious.
But it did not end here. As soon as the poor fellow had recovered sufficiently to move, he was again set to the oar, and forced to row as best he could.
The voyage along the coast, and up a river into which they finally turned, occupied several days. At first, on starting, Aileen and her companions had looked with tender pity on the captives as they toiled at the heavy oars, but this deepened into earnest solicitude as they saw them, after hours of toil, gasping for want of water and apparently faint from want of food. Next day, although they had lain down in the bottom of the boat supperless, the rest had refreshed most of them, and they pulled on with some degree of vigour. But noon came, and with it culminated the heat of a burning sun. Still no water was served out, no food distributed. Mr Hazlit and his party had biscuit and water given them in the morning and at noon. During the latter meal Aileen observed the native policeman regarding her food with such eager wolfish eyes that under an impulse of uncontrollable feeling she held out her can of water to him. He seized and drank the half of it before one of the pirates had time to dash it from his lips.
Presently a youth, who seemed less robust than his comrades, uttered a wild shriek, threw up his hands, and fell backwards. At once the pirates detached him from his oar, threw him into the sea, and made another captive fill his place. And now, to their inexpressible horror, the Hazlits discovered that the practice of these wretches—when they happened to have a super-abundance of captives—was to make them row on without meat or drink, until they dropt at the oar, and then throw them overboard! Reader, we do not deal in fiction here, we describe what we have heard from the mouth of a trustworthy eye-witness.
In these circumstances the harrowing scenes that were enacted before the English ladies were indeed fitted to arouse that “horror” which poor Miss Pritty, in her innocence, had imagined to have reached its worst. We will pass it over. Many of the captives died. A few of the strongest survived, and these, at last, were fed a little in order to enable them to complete the journey. Among them was the native policeman, who had suddenly discovered that his wisest course of action, in the meantime, was submission.
At last the boats reached a village in one of those rivers whose low and wooded shores afford shelter to too many nests of Malay pirates even at the present time—and no wonder! When the rulers and grandees of some Eastern nations live by plunder, what can be expected of the people?
The few captives who survived were sent ashore. Among them were our English friends.
Chapter Fifteen.Sudden and bad News induces sudden and good Action.About this time there hung a dark cloud over the pagoda in Hong-Kong. Even the bright eyes of Molly Machowl could not pierce through this cloud. Rooney himself had lost much of his hopeful disposition. As for Edgar Berrington, Joe Baldwin, and David Maxwell, they were silently depressed, for adversity had crushed them very severely of late.Immediately after their losses, as already detailed or referred to, stormy weather had for several weeks prevented them from resuming operations at the wreck, and when at last they succeeded in reaching the old locality, they found themselves so closely watched by shore boats that the impossibility of their being able to keep anything they should bring up became obvious. They were forced, therefore, to give up the idea of making further attempts.“It’s too bad,” growled Maxwell one morning at breakfast, “that all our trouble and expense should end in nothin’—or next to nothin’.”“Come, Maxwell,” said Edgar, “don’t say ‘nothing.’ It is true we lost our first great find that luckless night when we left it with Wilson, but our second haul is safe, and though it amounts only to eight thousand pounds sterling, that after all is not to be sneezed at by men in our circumstances.”“Make not haste to be rich,” muttered Joe Baldwin in an undertone.“Didwe make haste to be rich?” asked Edgar, smiling. “It seems to me that we set about it in a cool, quiet, business-like way.”“Humph, that’s true, but we got uncommon keen over it—somethin’ like what gamblers do.”“Our over-keenness,” returned Edgar, “was not right, perhaps, but our course of action was quite legitimate—for it is a good turn done not only to ourselves but to the world when we save property; and the salvor of property—who necessarily risks so much—is surely worthy of a good reward in kind.”“Troth, an’ that’s true,” said Rooney, with a wry grin, “I had quite made up me mind to a carridge and four with Molly astore sittin’ in silks an’ satins inside.”“Molly would much rather sit in cotton,” said the lady referred to, as she presided at the breakfast-table; “have another cup, Rooney, an’ don’t be talking nonsense.”“But it does seem hard,” continued Maxwell in his growling voice, “after all our trouble in thin venture, to be obliged to take to divin’ at mere harbour-works in Eastern waters, just to keep body and soul together.”“Never mind, boy,” exclaimed Rooney with a successful effort at heartiness, “it won’t last long—it’s only till we get a suitable chance of a ship to take us an’ our small fortins back to ould Ireland—or England, if ye prefer it—though it’s my own opinion that England is only an Irish colony. Never say die. Sure we’ve seen a dale of life, too, in them parts. Come, I’ll give ye a sintiment, an’ we’ll drink it in tay—”Before the hopeful Irishman could give the sentiment, he was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door and the abrupt entrance of a Chinaman, who looked at the breakfast party with keen interest and some anxiety.“If it’s your grandmother you’re lookin’ for,” said Rooney, “she don’t live here, young man.”Paying no attention to this pleasantry, the Chinaman closed the door with an air of mystery, and, going up to Edgar, looked him inquiringly in the face, as he said interrogatively:—“I’s pleeceman. You’s Eggirbringting?”“Not a bad attempt,” exclaimed Edgar, with a laugh. “I supposethatis my name translated into Chinese.”“Took me muchee—long—time for learn him from young missee,” said the Chinaman with a hurt look.At the mention of a young lady Edgar’s amused look changed into one of anxiety, for he had, through an English acquaintance in the port, become aware not only of Mr Hazlit’s failure, but of his sudden departure for England with his daughter and Miss Pritty, and a vague suspicion of bad news flashed upon him.“You bring a message, I see?” he said, rising and speaking hurriedly. “Let me hear it. Quick.”Thus invoked, the Chinaman spoke so quickly and in such a miraculous jumble of bad English, that Edgar could not comprehend him at all;—only one thing he felt quite sure of, namely, that his anxiety was well found.“Ho! Chok-foo!” he shouted.The domestic entered, and to him the Chinaman delivered his message, which was to the following effect:—He was a native policeman who had been captured on the coast when in discharge of his duties. Many others had been taken by the same pirates at different times, and among them an English gentleman named Hazlit, with his daughter and a lady friend. These latter had been spared, probably with a view to ransom, at the time the crew of their vessel was massacred, and were at that moment in one of the strongholds belonging to the pirates, up one of the intricate rivers on the coast of Borneo. He, the policeman, having resolved to make his escape, and being, in virtue of his wise, wily, and constabular nature, well able to do so, had mentioned the circumstance to the young lady, and, under promise of a handsome reward, had agreed to travel and voyage, night and day, by boat or vessel, as fortune should favour him, in order to convey immediate intelligence of these facts to a youth named “Eggirbringting,” whom the young lady described as being very tall and stout, and extremely handsome.It may easily be imagined with what mingled feelings of anxiety and impatience the “tall, stout, and extremely handsome young man” listened to this narrative as it was volubly delivered by the “pleeceman” and slowly translated by Chok-foo.When at last he was fairly in possession of all that the messenger had to relate, Edgar paced up and down the room for a few seconds with rapid strides.“We must go into action at once, sir,” suggested Joe Baldwin.“Of course, of course, buthow? That’s the point,” exclaimed Edgar, with a look of impatient vexation. “Borneo is a long way off. There are no steamers running regularly to it that I know of. However, it’s of no use talking; let’s go at once and make inquiry. I’ll go see our consul—perhaps—”“P’lhaps,” interrupted the messenger, “p’lhaps the pleeceman can talkee.”“If he can, let him speak,” cried Edgar, with impatience.“Pleece he nevir too muchee quick,” returned the man, coolly. “We knows what we’s can do. Hai, yach!”Edgar sat down with a sharp sigh of discontent, and waited for more.“Well?”“Well,” repeated the policeman, “there be steam-boat here now—go for Borneo quick.”“At once!” cried Edgar, starting up and seizing his hat, “why did you not—”“Sh! Keepee cool, you no ’casion makes so fashion,” interrupted the policeman, who thereupon went on to explain that on his arrival in Hong-Kong he had gone at once to head-quarters, before delivering his message to Edgar, in order to make himself master of all the news about town that was worth knowing, or likely in any way to advance the interest of those whom he sought to serve. Among other things he had learned the important fact that, two days before his arrival, a small gun-boat, belonging to a certain Rajah of Borneo, and commanded by a certain Scotchman, and employed for the express purpose of hunting up and rooting out the pirates of the China seas, had put in to the port for repairs. He had hurried down to the gun-boat in time to prevent her departure, had told his story, and had just come from her to say that her captain would like much to see Mr Berrington.On hearing this, Edgar again started up and eagerly ordered the native policeman to guide him to the gun-boat in question without another moment’s delay. He was followed, of course, by his male companions, who were nearly as much interested in the matter as himself. They were soon on the deck of the gun-boat.It was a neat trim screw-steamer of small size, 180 tons burthen, and manned by about sixty Malays and a few Englishmen. Everything on board was as bright and orderly as if it had been a British man-of-war. Her commander received the visitors on the quarter-deck. He looked like one who was eminently well qualified to hunt up, run down, cut out, or in any other mode make away with pirates. There was much of the bull-terrier in him—solid, broad, short, large-chested—no doubt also large-hearted—active, in the prime of life, with short black curly hair, a short black beard and moustache, a square chin, a pleasant smile, a prominent nose, and an eagle eye. Indeed he might himself have made a splendid chief of the very race against which he waged “war to the knife.”“Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr Berrington,” said the captain, holding out his hand. “The native policeman has told me all about your friends—I understand them to be such?”“Yes—intimate friends.”“Well, this business is quite in my way. I shall be glad to take you with me. But who are these?” he added, looking at Edgar’s companions.“They are comrades, and might do good service if you will allow them to volunteer.”“My crew is complete,” said the captain, doubtfully, “except, indeed, that my chief engineer is just dead, but none of your men look as if they could fill his shoes.”“That is true, but I can fill them myself,” said Edgar, eagerly.“Indeed!”“Yes, I am an engineer by profession; my comrades are professional divers. We have been engaged on a wreck here for some time past.”“Good,” said the captain; “are your dresses and apparatus at hand?”“Some of them are.”“Then bring them aboard at once. I leave in an hour. Just bring what you have handy. Lose no time. I will take your men also. They may be of use.”Within an hour after the foregoing conversation Molly Machowl was left disconsolate in the pagoda under the care of Chok-foo, while the Rajah’s gun-boat was steaming out to sea with Edgar, Baldwin, Rooney, Maxwell, and Ram-stam added to her warlike crew.
About this time there hung a dark cloud over the pagoda in Hong-Kong. Even the bright eyes of Molly Machowl could not pierce through this cloud. Rooney himself had lost much of his hopeful disposition. As for Edgar Berrington, Joe Baldwin, and David Maxwell, they were silently depressed, for adversity had crushed them very severely of late.
Immediately after their losses, as already detailed or referred to, stormy weather had for several weeks prevented them from resuming operations at the wreck, and when at last they succeeded in reaching the old locality, they found themselves so closely watched by shore boats that the impossibility of their being able to keep anything they should bring up became obvious. They were forced, therefore, to give up the idea of making further attempts.
“It’s too bad,” growled Maxwell one morning at breakfast, “that all our trouble and expense should end in nothin’—or next to nothin’.”
“Come, Maxwell,” said Edgar, “don’t say ‘nothing.’ It is true we lost our first great find that luckless night when we left it with Wilson, but our second haul is safe, and though it amounts only to eight thousand pounds sterling, that after all is not to be sneezed at by men in our circumstances.”
“Make not haste to be rich,” muttered Joe Baldwin in an undertone.
“Didwe make haste to be rich?” asked Edgar, smiling. “It seems to me that we set about it in a cool, quiet, business-like way.”
“Humph, that’s true, but we got uncommon keen over it—somethin’ like what gamblers do.”
“Our over-keenness,” returned Edgar, “was not right, perhaps, but our course of action was quite legitimate—for it is a good turn done not only to ourselves but to the world when we save property; and the salvor of property—who necessarily risks so much—is surely worthy of a good reward in kind.”
“Troth, an’ that’s true,” said Rooney, with a wry grin, “I had quite made up me mind to a carridge and four with Molly astore sittin’ in silks an’ satins inside.”
“Molly would much rather sit in cotton,” said the lady referred to, as she presided at the breakfast-table; “have another cup, Rooney, an’ don’t be talking nonsense.”
“But it does seem hard,” continued Maxwell in his growling voice, “after all our trouble in thin venture, to be obliged to take to divin’ at mere harbour-works in Eastern waters, just to keep body and soul together.”
“Never mind, boy,” exclaimed Rooney with a successful effort at heartiness, “it won’t last long—it’s only till we get a suitable chance of a ship to take us an’ our small fortins back to ould Ireland—or England, if ye prefer it—though it’s my own opinion that England is only an Irish colony. Never say die. Sure we’ve seen a dale of life, too, in them parts. Come, I’ll give ye a sintiment, an’ we’ll drink it in tay—”
Before the hopeful Irishman could give the sentiment, he was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door and the abrupt entrance of a Chinaman, who looked at the breakfast party with keen interest and some anxiety.
“If it’s your grandmother you’re lookin’ for,” said Rooney, “she don’t live here, young man.”
Paying no attention to this pleasantry, the Chinaman closed the door with an air of mystery, and, going up to Edgar, looked him inquiringly in the face, as he said interrogatively:—
“I’s pleeceman. You’s Eggirbringting?”
“Not a bad attempt,” exclaimed Edgar, with a laugh. “I supposethatis my name translated into Chinese.”
“Took me muchee—long—time for learn him from young missee,” said the Chinaman with a hurt look.
At the mention of a young lady Edgar’s amused look changed into one of anxiety, for he had, through an English acquaintance in the port, become aware not only of Mr Hazlit’s failure, but of his sudden departure for England with his daughter and Miss Pritty, and a vague suspicion of bad news flashed upon him.
“You bring a message, I see?” he said, rising and speaking hurriedly. “Let me hear it. Quick.”
Thus invoked, the Chinaman spoke so quickly and in such a miraculous jumble of bad English, that Edgar could not comprehend him at all;—only one thing he felt quite sure of, namely, that his anxiety was well found.
“Ho! Chok-foo!” he shouted.
The domestic entered, and to him the Chinaman delivered his message, which was to the following effect:—
He was a native policeman who had been captured on the coast when in discharge of his duties. Many others had been taken by the same pirates at different times, and among them an English gentleman named Hazlit, with his daughter and a lady friend. These latter had been spared, probably with a view to ransom, at the time the crew of their vessel was massacred, and were at that moment in one of the strongholds belonging to the pirates, up one of the intricate rivers on the coast of Borneo. He, the policeman, having resolved to make his escape, and being, in virtue of his wise, wily, and constabular nature, well able to do so, had mentioned the circumstance to the young lady, and, under promise of a handsome reward, had agreed to travel and voyage, night and day, by boat or vessel, as fortune should favour him, in order to convey immediate intelligence of these facts to a youth named “Eggirbringting,” whom the young lady described as being very tall and stout, and extremely handsome.
It may easily be imagined with what mingled feelings of anxiety and impatience the “tall, stout, and extremely handsome young man” listened to this narrative as it was volubly delivered by the “pleeceman” and slowly translated by Chok-foo.
When at last he was fairly in possession of all that the messenger had to relate, Edgar paced up and down the room for a few seconds with rapid strides.
“We must go into action at once, sir,” suggested Joe Baldwin.
“Of course, of course, buthow? That’s the point,” exclaimed Edgar, with a look of impatient vexation. “Borneo is a long way off. There are no steamers running regularly to it that I know of. However, it’s of no use talking; let’s go at once and make inquiry. I’ll go see our consul—perhaps—”
“P’lhaps,” interrupted the messenger, “p’lhaps the pleeceman can talkee.”
“If he can, let him speak,” cried Edgar, with impatience.
“Pleece he nevir too muchee quick,” returned the man, coolly. “We knows what we’s can do. Hai, yach!”
Edgar sat down with a sharp sigh of discontent, and waited for more.
“Well?”
“Well,” repeated the policeman, “there be steam-boat here now—go for Borneo quick.”
“At once!” cried Edgar, starting up and seizing his hat, “why did you not—”
“Sh! Keepee cool, you no ’casion makes so fashion,” interrupted the policeman, who thereupon went on to explain that on his arrival in Hong-Kong he had gone at once to head-quarters, before delivering his message to Edgar, in order to make himself master of all the news about town that was worth knowing, or likely in any way to advance the interest of those whom he sought to serve. Among other things he had learned the important fact that, two days before his arrival, a small gun-boat, belonging to a certain Rajah of Borneo, and commanded by a certain Scotchman, and employed for the express purpose of hunting up and rooting out the pirates of the China seas, had put in to the port for repairs. He had hurried down to the gun-boat in time to prevent her departure, had told his story, and had just come from her to say that her captain would like much to see Mr Berrington.
On hearing this, Edgar again started up and eagerly ordered the native policeman to guide him to the gun-boat in question without another moment’s delay. He was followed, of course, by his male companions, who were nearly as much interested in the matter as himself. They were soon on the deck of the gun-boat.
It was a neat trim screw-steamer of small size, 180 tons burthen, and manned by about sixty Malays and a few Englishmen. Everything on board was as bright and orderly as if it had been a British man-of-war. Her commander received the visitors on the quarter-deck. He looked like one who was eminently well qualified to hunt up, run down, cut out, or in any other mode make away with pirates. There was much of the bull-terrier in him—solid, broad, short, large-chested—no doubt also large-hearted—active, in the prime of life, with short black curly hair, a short black beard and moustache, a square chin, a pleasant smile, a prominent nose, and an eagle eye. Indeed he might himself have made a splendid chief of the very race against which he waged “war to the knife.”
“Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr Berrington,” said the captain, holding out his hand. “The native policeman has told me all about your friends—I understand them to be such?”
“Yes—intimate friends.”
“Well, this business is quite in my way. I shall be glad to take you with me. But who are these?” he added, looking at Edgar’s companions.
“They are comrades, and might do good service if you will allow them to volunteer.”
“My crew is complete,” said the captain, doubtfully, “except, indeed, that my chief engineer is just dead, but none of your men look as if they could fill his shoes.”
“That is true, but I can fill them myself,” said Edgar, eagerly.
“Indeed!”
“Yes, I am an engineer by profession; my comrades are professional divers. We have been engaged on a wreck here for some time past.”
“Good,” said the captain; “are your dresses and apparatus at hand?”
“Some of them are.”
“Then bring them aboard at once. I leave in an hour. Just bring what you have handy. Lose no time. I will take your men also. They may be of use.”
Within an hour after the foregoing conversation Molly Machowl was left disconsolate in the pagoda under the care of Chok-foo, while the Rajah’s gun-boat was steaming out to sea with Edgar, Baldwin, Rooney, Maxwell, and Ram-stam added to her warlike crew.
Chapter Sixteen.Bearding the Lion in his Den.Steam has pretty well subdued time. Fifty years ago it was a mighty feat to “put a circle round the globe.” Now-a-days a “Cook”—by no means a captain—will take or send you round it in “a few weeks.”Romantic reader, don’t despair! By such means romance has undoubtedly been affected in some degree, but let not that grieve thee! Romance has by no means been taken out of the world; nor has it been, to use an unromantic phrase, reduced in quantity or quality. Human inventions and appliances alter the aspects of romance, and transfer its influences, but they cannot destroy a Creator’s gift to the human race. They have, indeed, taken the romance out of some things which were once romantic, but that is simply because they have made such things familiar and commonplace. They have not yet touchedotherthings which still remain in the hallowed region of romance. Romanceisa region. Things crowd out of it, but other things crowd into it. The romantic soul dwells perpetually in it, and while, perhaps with regret, it recognises the fact that many things depart from that region, it also observes, with pleasure, that many things enter into it, and that the entrances are more numerous than the exits. The philosophico-romantic spirit will admit all this and be grateful. The unphilosophico-romantic spirit will not quite see through it, and may, perchance, be perplexed. But be of good cheer. Have faith! Do not let the matter-of-fact “steam-engine,” and the “telegraph,” and the “post-office,” rob thee of thy joys. They have somewhat modified the flow of the river of Romance, but they have not touched its fountain-head,—and never can.Why, what is Romance? Despite the teachings of the dictionaries—which often give us the original and obsolete meaning of words—we maintain that romance signifies the human soul’s aspirations after the high, and the grand, and the good. In its fallen condition the poor soul undoubtedly makes wondrous mistakes in its romantic strainings, but these mistakes are comparatively seldom on the side of exaggeration. Our dictionary says that romance is extravagance—a fiction which passes beyond the limits of real life. Now, we maintain that no one—not even the most romantic of individuals—ever comesupto real life. We have been a child—at least we incline to that belief—and we have been, like other children, in the habit of romancing, as it is called, that is, according to dictionaries, passing “beyond the limits of real life” into “extravagance.” We are now a man—it is to be hoped—have travelled far and seen much and yet we can say conscientiously that the wildest fancies of our most romantic moods in childhood have been immeasurably surpassed by the grand realities of actual life! What are the most brilliant fancies of a child or of a mere ignorant “romancer,” compared to the amazing visions of the Arctic regions or the high Alps, which we have seen? “Fictions” and “extravagance”! All our wildest sallies are butintravagance and feeble fancy compared with the sublimity of fact. No doubt there are men and women gifted with the power of burlesquing reality, and thus, not going beyond its limits, but causing much dust and confusion within its limits by the exaggeration and falsification of individual facts. This, however, isnotromance. We stand up for romance as being the bright staircase that leads childhood to reality, and culminates at last in that vision which the eye of man hath not yet seen nor his mind conceived; a vision which transcends all romance is itself the greatest of all realities, and is “laid up for the people of God.”We return from this divergence to the point which led to it—the power of steam to subdue time. No doubt it was unromantic enough to be pushed, propelled, thrust, willing or not willing, against, or with, wind and tide, so that you could gauge your distance run—and to be run—almost to a foot; but it was very satisfactory, nevertheless, especially to those whose hearts were far in advance of their vessel, and it was more than satisfactory when at the end of their voyage of a few days they found themselves gliding swiftly, almost noiselessly, up the windings of a quiet river whose picturesque scenery, romantic vistas, and beautiful reflections might have marked it the entrance to a paradise instead of a human pandemonium.It was very early when the gun-boat entered the stream. The mists of morning still prevailed, and rendered all nature fairy-like. Weird-looking mangrove bushes rose on their leg-like roots from the water, as if independent of soil. Vigorous parasites and creepers strove to strangle the larger trees, but strove in vain. Thick jungle concealed wealth of feathered, insect, and reptile life, including the reptile man, and sundry notes of warning told that these were awaking to their daily toil—the lower animals to fulfil the ends of their being, the higher animal to violate some of the most blessed laws of his Creator. Gradually the sun rose and dispelled the mists, while it warmed everything into strong vitality. As they passed up, clouds of water-fowl rose whirring from their lairs, and luxuriant growth of weeds threatened to obstruct the progress of the steamer.“Come here, policeman,” said the captain to the native functionary; “how far above this, did you say, is the nest of the vipers?”“’Bout tree mile.”“Humph!” ejaculated the captain, turning to Berrington, who had come on deck at the moment. “I never went higher up the river than this point, for, just ahead, there are reeds enough to stop the screw of a three thousand ton ship, but if you’ll get your diving-dresses ready I’ll try it. It would be much better to bring our big guns to bear on them than to attack in boats.”“I’ll have ’em ready directly,” said Edgar. “Perhaps we’d better stop the engines now.”“Just so; stop them.”The engines were stopped, and the gun-boat glided slowly over the still water until it came to rest on its own inverted image.Meanwhile the air-pump was rigged, and Joe Baldwin put on his dress, to the great interest and no little surprise of the Malay crew.“Ready, sir,” said Edgar, when Joe sat costumed, with the helmet at his side and his friends Rooney and Maxwell at the pumps.“Go ahead, then—full steam,” said the captain.Just in front of the vessel the river was impeded quite across by a dense growth of rank reeds and sedges; a little further on there was clear water. Into this the gun-boat plunged under full steam.As was expected, the screw soon became choked, and finally stopped. Had the pirates expected this they would probably have made a vigorous attack just then. But the danger, being so obvious, had never before been incurred, and was therefore not prepared for or taken advantage of by the pirates. Nevertheless the captain was ready for them if they had attacked. Every man was at his station armed to the teeth.The moment the boat began to work heavily Joe’s helmet was put on, and when she came to a stand he went over the stern by means of a rope-ladder prepared for the purpose.“Be as active as you can, Joe. Got everything you want?” said Edgar, taking up the bull’s-eye.“All right, sir,” said Joe.“Pump away,” cried Edgar, looking over his shoulder.Next moment Joe was under water, and the Malays, with glaring eyes and open mouths, were gazing at the confusion of air-bubbles that arose from him continually. From their looks it seemed as though some of them fancied the whole affair to be a new species of torture invented by their captain.Joe carried a small hatchet in his girdle and a long sharp knife in his hand. With these he attacked the reeds and weeds, and in ten minutes or less had set the screw free. He soon reappeared on the rope-ladder, and Edgar, who had been attending to his lines, removed the bull’s-eye.“What now, Joe?” he asked.“All clear,” said Joe, coming inboard.“What! Done it already?”“Ay; steam ahead when you like, sir.”The order was given at once. The assistant engineer put on full steam,and the gun-boat, crashing through the remaining obstruction, floated into the comparatively clear water beyond. The screw had been again partially fouled, of course, but ten minutes more of our diver’s knife and axe set it free, and the vessel proceeded on her way.Scouts from the pirate-camp had been watching the gun-boat, for they had counted on nothing worse than an attack by boats, which, strong in numbers, they could easily have repelled. Great therefore was the consternation when these scouts ran in and reported that the vessel had cleared the obstructions by some miraculous power which they could not explain or understand, and was now advancing on them under full steam.While the operations we have described were being carried out on board the gun-boat, in the pirate village poor Mr Hazlit was seated on a stump outside a rude hut made chiefly of bamboos and palm leaves. He wore only his trousers and shirt, both sadly torn—one of the pirates having taken a fancy to his coat and vest, the former of which he wore round his loins with his legs thrust through the sleeves. The captive merchant sat with his face buried in his hands and bowed on his knees.Inside the hut sat Aileen with poor Miss Pritty resting on her bosom. Miss Pritty was of a tender confiding nature, and felt it absolutely necessary to rest on somebody’s bosom. She would rather have used a cat’s or dog’s than none. Aileen, being affectionate and sympathetic, had no objection. Nevertheless, not being altogether of angelic extraction, she was a little put out by the constant tremors of her friend.“Come, dear, don’t shudder so fearfully,” she said, in a half coaxing half remonstrative tone.“Is he gone?” asked Miss Pritty in a feeble voice, with her eyes tight shut.She referred to a half-naked warrior who had entered the hut, had half shut his great eyes, and had displayed a huge cavern of red gum and white teeth in an irresistible smile at the woe-begone aspect of Miss Pritty. He had then silently taken his departure.“Gone,” repeated Aileen, rather sharply; “of course he is, and if he were not, what then? Sure his being dark and rather lightly clothed is not calculated to shock you so much.”“Aileen!” exclaimed Miss Pritty, raising her head suddenly, and gazing with anxiety into the face of her friend; “has our short residence among these wretches begun to remove that delicacy of mind and sentiment for which I always admired you?”“No,” returned Aileen, firmly, “but your excessive alarms may have done something towards that end. Nay, forgive me, dear,” she added, gently, as Miss Pritty’s head sank again on her shoulder, with a sob, “I did not mean to hurt your feelings, but really, if you only think of it, our present position demands the utmost resolution, caution, and fortitude of which we are capable; and you know, love, that this shuddering at trifles and imagining of improbabilities will tend to unfit you for action when the time arrives, as it surely will sooner or later, for my father has taken the wisest steps for our deliverance, and, besides, a Greater than my father watches over us.”“That is true, dear,” assented Miss Pritty, with a tender look. “Now you speak like your old self; but you must not blame me for being so foolish. Indeed, I know that I am, but, then, have not my worst fears been realised? Are we not in the hands—actually in the hands—of pirates—real pirates, buccaneers—ugh!”Again the poor lady drooped her head and shuddered.“Yourworst fears may have been realised,” said Aileen; “but we have certainly not experienced the worst that might have happened. On the contrary, we have been remarkably well treated—what do you say? Fed on rats and roast puppies! Well, the things they send usmaybe such, for they resemble these creatures as much as anything else, but they are well cooked and very nice, you must allow, and—”At that moment Aileen’s tongue was suddenly arrested, and, figuratively speaking, Miss Pritty’s blood curdled in her veins and her heart ceased to beat, for, without an instant’s warning, the woods resounded with a terrific salvo of artillery; grape and canister shot came tearing, hissing, and crashing through the trees, and fierce yells, mingled with fiend-like shrieks, rent the air.Both ladies sat as if transfixed—pale, mute, and motionless. Next moment Mr Hazlit sprang into the hut, glaring with excitement, while a stream of blood trickled from a slight wound in his forehead.Uttering a yell, no whit inferior to that of the fiercest pirate near him, and following it up with a fit of savage laughter that was quite appalling, the once dignified and self-possessed merchant rolled his eyes round the hut as if in search of something. Suddenly espying a heavy pole, or species of war-club, which lay in a corner, he seized it and whirled it round his head as if he had been trained to such arms from childhood.Just then a second salvo shook the very earth. Mr Hazlit sprang out of the hut, shouted, “To the rescue! Aileen, to the rescue!” in the voice of a Stentor, plunged wildly into a forest-path, and disappeared almost before the horrified ladies could form a guess as to his intentions.
Steam has pretty well subdued time. Fifty years ago it was a mighty feat to “put a circle round the globe.” Now-a-days a “Cook”—by no means a captain—will take or send you round it in “a few weeks.”
Romantic reader, don’t despair! By such means romance has undoubtedly been affected in some degree, but let not that grieve thee! Romance has by no means been taken out of the world; nor has it been, to use an unromantic phrase, reduced in quantity or quality. Human inventions and appliances alter the aspects of romance, and transfer its influences, but they cannot destroy a Creator’s gift to the human race. They have, indeed, taken the romance out of some things which were once romantic, but that is simply because they have made such things familiar and commonplace. They have not yet touchedotherthings which still remain in the hallowed region of romance. Romanceisa region. Things crowd out of it, but other things crowd into it. The romantic soul dwells perpetually in it, and while, perhaps with regret, it recognises the fact that many things depart from that region, it also observes, with pleasure, that many things enter into it, and that the entrances are more numerous than the exits. The philosophico-romantic spirit will admit all this and be grateful. The unphilosophico-romantic spirit will not quite see through it, and may, perchance, be perplexed. But be of good cheer. Have faith! Do not let the matter-of-fact “steam-engine,” and the “telegraph,” and the “post-office,” rob thee of thy joys. They have somewhat modified the flow of the river of Romance, but they have not touched its fountain-head,—and never can.
Why, what is Romance? Despite the teachings of the dictionaries—which often give us the original and obsolete meaning of words—we maintain that romance signifies the human soul’s aspirations after the high, and the grand, and the good. In its fallen condition the poor soul undoubtedly makes wondrous mistakes in its romantic strainings, but these mistakes are comparatively seldom on the side of exaggeration. Our dictionary says that romance is extravagance—a fiction which passes beyond the limits of real life. Now, we maintain that no one—not even the most romantic of individuals—ever comesupto real life. We have been a child—at least we incline to that belief—and we have been, like other children, in the habit of romancing, as it is called, that is, according to dictionaries, passing “beyond the limits of real life” into “extravagance.” We are now a man—it is to be hoped—have travelled far and seen much and yet we can say conscientiously that the wildest fancies of our most romantic moods in childhood have been immeasurably surpassed by the grand realities of actual life! What are the most brilliant fancies of a child or of a mere ignorant “romancer,” compared to the amazing visions of the Arctic regions or the high Alps, which we have seen? “Fictions” and “extravagance”! All our wildest sallies are butintravagance and feeble fancy compared with the sublimity of fact. No doubt there are men and women gifted with the power of burlesquing reality, and thus, not going beyond its limits, but causing much dust and confusion within its limits by the exaggeration and falsification of individual facts. This, however, isnotromance. We stand up for romance as being the bright staircase that leads childhood to reality, and culminates at last in that vision which the eye of man hath not yet seen nor his mind conceived; a vision which transcends all romance is itself the greatest of all realities, and is “laid up for the people of God.”
We return from this divergence to the point which led to it—the power of steam to subdue time. No doubt it was unromantic enough to be pushed, propelled, thrust, willing or not willing, against, or with, wind and tide, so that you could gauge your distance run—and to be run—almost to a foot; but it was very satisfactory, nevertheless, especially to those whose hearts were far in advance of their vessel, and it was more than satisfactory when at the end of their voyage of a few days they found themselves gliding swiftly, almost noiselessly, up the windings of a quiet river whose picturesque scenery, romantic vistas, and beautiful reflections might have marked it the entrance to a paradise instead of a human pandemonium.
It was very early when the gun-boat entered the stream. The mists of morning still prevailed, and rendered all nature fairy-like. Weird-looking mangrove bushes rose on their leg-like roots from the water, as if independent of soil. Vigorous parasites and creepers strove to strangle the larger trees, but strove in vain. Thick jungle concealed wealth of feathered, insect, and reptile life, including the reptile man, and sundry notes of warning told that these were awaking to their daily toil—the lower animals to fulfil the ends of their being, the higher animal to violate some of the most blessed laws of his Creator. Gradually the sun rose and dispelled the mists, while it warmed everything into strong vitality. As they passed up, clouds of water-fowl rose whirring from their lairs, and luxuriant growth of weeds threatened to obstruct the progress of the steamer.
“Come here, policeman,” said the captain to the native functionary; “how far above this, did you say, is the nest of the vipers?”
“’Bout tree mile.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the captain, turning to Berrington, who had come on deck at the moment. “I never went higher up the river than this point, for, just ahead, there are reeds enough to stop the screw of a three thousand ton ship, but if you’ll get your diving-dresses ready I’ll try it. It would be much better to bring our big guns to bear on them than to attack in boats.”
“I’ll have ’em ready directly,” said Edgar. “Perhaps we’d better stop the engines now.”
“Just so; stop them.”
The engines were stopped, and the gun-boat glided slowly over the still water until it came to rest on its own inverted image.
Meanwhile the air-pump was rigged, and Joe Baldwin put on his dress, to the great interest and no little surprise of the Malay crew.
“Ready, sir,” said Edgar, when Joe sat costumed, with the helmet at his side and his friends Rooney and Maxwell at the pumps.
“Go ahead, then—full steam,” said the captain.
Just in front of the vessel the river was impeded quite across by a dense growth of rank reeds and sedges; a little further on there was clear water. Into this the gun-boat plunged under full steam.
As was expected, the screw soon became choked, and finally stopped. Had the pirates expected this they would probably have made a vigorous attack just then. But the danger, being so obvious, had never before been incurred, and was therefore not prepared for or taken advantage of by the pirates. Nevertheless the captain was ready for them if they had attacked. Every man was at his station armed to the teeth.
The moment the boat began to work heavily Joe’s helmet was put on, and when she came to a stand he went over the stern by means of a rope-ladder prepared for the purpose.
“Be as active as you can, Joe. Got everything you want?” said Edgar, taking up the bull’s-eye.
“All right, sir,” said Joe.
“Pump away,” cried Edgar, looking over his shoulder.
Next moment Joe was under water, and the Malays, with glaring eyes and open mouths, were gazing at the confusion of air-bubbles that arose from him continually. From their looks it seemed as though some of them fancied the whole affair to be a new species of torture invented by their captain.
Joe carried a small hatchet in his girdle and a long sharp knife in his hand. With these he attacked the reeds and weeds, and in ten minutes or less had set the screw free. He soon reappeared on the rope-ladder, and Edgar, who had been attending to his lines, removed the bull’s-eye.
“What now, Joe?” he asked.
“All clear,” said Joe, coming inboard.
“What! Done it already?”
“Ay; steam ahead when you like, sir.”
The order was given at once. The assistant engineer put on full steam,and the gun-boat, crashing through the remaining obstruction, floated into the comparatively clear water beyond. The screw had been again partially fouled, of course, but ten minutes more of our diver’s knife and axe set it free, and the vessel proceeded on her way.
Scouts from the pirate-camp had been watching the gun-boat, for they had counted on nothing worse than an attack by boats, which, strong in numbers, they could easily have repelled. Great therefore was the consternation when these scouts ran in and reported that the vessel had cleared the obstructions by some miraculous power which they could not explain or understand, and was now advancing on them under full steam.
While the operations we have described were being carried out on board the gun-boat, in the pirate village poor Mr Hazlit was seated on a stump outside a rude hut made chiefly of bamboos and palm leaves. He wore only his trousers and shirt, both sadly torn—one of the pirates having taken a fancy to his coat and vest, the former of which he wore round his loins with his legs thrust through the sleeves. The captive merchant sat with his face buried in his hands and bowed on his knees.
Inside the hut sat Aileen with poor Miss Pritty resting on her bosom. Miss Pritty was of a tender confiding nature, and felt it absolutely necessary to rest on somebody’s bosom. She would rather have used a cat’s or dog’s than none. Aileen, being affectionate and sympathetic, had no objection. Nevertheless, not being altogether of angelic extraction, she was a little put out by the constant tremors of her friend.
“Come, dear, don’t shudder so fearfully,” she said, in a half coaxing half remonstrative tone.
“Is he gone?” asked Miss Pritty in a feeble voice, with her eyes tight shut.
She referred to a half-naked warrior who had entered the hut, had half shut his great eyes, and had displayed a huge cavern of red gum and white teeth in an irresistible smile at the woe-begone aspect of Miss Pritty. He had then silently taken his departure.
“Gone,” repeated Aileen, rather sharply; “of course he is, and if he were not, what then? Sure his being dark and rather lightly clothed is not calculated to shock you so much.”
“Aileen!” exclaimed Miss Pritty, raising her head suddenly, and gazing with anxiety into the face of her friend; “has our short residence among these wretches begun to remove that delicacy of mind and sentiment for which I always admired you?”
“No,” returned Aileen, firmly, “but your excessive alarms may have done something towards that end. Nay, forgive me, dear,” she added, gently, as Miss Pritty’s head sank again on her shoulder, with a sob, “I did not mean to hurt your feelings, but really, if you only think of it, our present position demands the utmost resolution, caution, and fortitude of which we are capable; and you know, love, that this shuddering at trifles and imagining of improbabilities will tend to unfit you for action when the time arrives, as it surely will sooner or later, for my father has taken the wisest steps for our deliverance, and, besides, a Greater than my father watches over us.”
“That is true, dear,” assented Miss Pritty, with a tender look. “Now you speak like your old self; but you must not blame me for being so foolish. Indeed, I know that I am, but, then, have not my worst fears been realised? Are we not in the hands—actually in the hands—of pirates—real pirates, buccaneers—ugh!”
Again the poor lady drooped her head and shuddered.
“Yourworst fears may have been realised,” said Aileen; “but we have certainly not experienced the worst that might have happened. On the contrary, we have been remarkably well treated—what do you say? Fed on rats and roast puppies! Well, the things they send usmaybe such, for they resemble these creatures as much as anything else, but they are well cooked and very nice, you must allow, and—”
At that moment Aileen’s tongue was suddenly arrested, and, figuratively speaking, Miss Pritty’s blood curdled in her veins and her heart ceased to beat, for, without an instant’s warning, the woods resounded with a terrific salvo of artillery; grape and canister shot came tearing, hissing, and crashing through the trees, and fierce yells, mingled with fiend-like shrieks, rent the air.
Both ladies sat as if transfixed—pale, mute, and motionless. Next moment Mr Hazlit sprang into the hut, glaring with excitement, while a stream of blood trickled from a slight wound in his forehead.
Uttering a yell, no whit inferior to that of the fiercest pirate near him, and following it up with a fit of savage laughter that was quite appalling, the once dignified and self-possessed merchant rolled his eyes round the hut as if in search of something. Suddenly espying a heavy pole, or species of war-club, which lay in a corner, he seized it and whirled it round his head as if he had been trained to such arms from childhood.
Just then a second salvo shook the very earth. Mr Hazlit sprang out of the hut, shouted, “To the rescue! Aileen, to the rescue!” in the voice of a Stentor, plunged wildly into a forest-path, and disappeared almost before the horrified ladies could form a guess as to his intentions.