Chapter VI: Part 6

We'd lost sight of "No. 2" by this time, as she sheered off in the dark to take up her station, and, as light after light was put out aboard us, even the engine-room 'atchways being covered hup, it seemed to make the night darker and darker, till it was just like pitch, and we put our 'ands out in front to feel where we were going, and spoke in whispers.

It was getting cold, too, and Mr. Parker goes past me on 'is way to the bridge with 'is greatcoat buttoned up round 'is neck. "More work to-night, Jones. See that your night sights are in good order, and get up plenty of ammunition," 'e says, an' I answers, "Very good, sir," and goes hoff to overhaul the gun gear, and 'ears the engine-room gong soundin' down below and them engines, with a 'ollow grating sound like a giant a-snoring, goes a'ead slow, and, though we can't see five feet in front of us, I knows by the lapping of the water against our bows that we are moving slowly in under those big guns ashore.

"If they've got search-lights ashore, they'll spot us and give it us 'ot," said one of the youngsters of my gun's crew, whispering like a fool.

"When you're awsked for your opinion you just give it," says I, speaking in my natural voice, which is rayther loud, and kicking 'im none too gentle, for all this whispering rayther gives you the fair jumps.

We was a pretty chilly crowd up on the bridge, a-standing nervous-like round the 12-pounder and staring a'ead into the darkness. Joe Smith (the signalman) and Mr. Parker had their night-glasses jammed to their eyes, and all of us egspected to feel the rocks a-crunching and grating under our bows every minute. An' not a sound 'cept the grating row down in the engine-room, which seemed to swallow everything else, and we 'ardly thought them Dagos of pirates could help 'earing of it if they had their ears shipped on proper-like.

Then someone whispers, "'Ear that, Bill", and shortly we could 'ear the booming of the swell breaking itself on the rocks; and Mr. Parker, 'e turns to the engine-room telegraph and we stops our engines, and the grating noise stopped all of a sudden and left us all more lonesome than ever, till the moaning and roaring on the rocks a'ead of us got louder, and seemed a jolly sight too close to be comfortable. The wind had dropped by this 'ere time, and the long swell just slid under us and rolled away into the night, as we listened for it to break itself with a crash and a roar. It seemed not two 'undred yards hoff of us.

There was nothing to do, that was the worst of it. Mr. Parker orders us all below, 'cept 'imself and the Sub-lootenant and the quarter-master, whose watch it was, so I just made them all eat a bit of something we 'ad left over from our suppers, and we got some pickles and sardines out o' the canteen, and felt better; but, bless you! we couldn't sleep, what with the encitement and the noise of them breakers, which we could 'ear even more loudly down below, for it seemed to come right up through her bottom. We'd got a good deal of sea-water down below, too--took it in when we were punching into those 'ead seas outside 'Ong-kong--and that fo'c'stle mess-deck war'n't the most comfortable place that night; and, as no one could catch a blessed wink of sleep, I just told the men to light their pipes, which was mighty comforting, though, by the way, 'twas strictly agin' orders, an' I got a wiggin' from Mr. Parker arfterwards for doing it.

Then I 'eard that there Cooky a-jawing to some of the youngsters about "'oping they was all prepared to die sudden-like, if so it was necessary and they got the call".

So I told 'im to let 'em go to sleep, and do 'is own dooty first and get 'em some 'ot ship's cocoa.

"'Ow can I make bricks without straw," said he, sad-like, and he had the pull of me on that, for, in course, the galley fire had been drawn.

I had the middle watch that night, from midnight to four in the morning, as you'd call it on shore, and nothing 'appened for the first two hours, 'cept that Mr. Parker and myself took it in turns to peer through the night-glass towards where we knew the island was, and stamped up and down to keep ourselves warm, for the night was most partickler cold, an' once or twice we had to move the engines to keep her from getting too close to them rocks.

Then the fun began. It was still as black as ink, you must remember, and we was supposed to be lying just off the narrow channel which zigzagged between the rocks into the big anchorage inside the island, we being on one side and "No. 2" on the other, though we could not see her, and could only guess she was there.

"If their torpedo-boats or destroyers do come out," said Mr. Parker, "they could no more find the _Laird_ on a night like this than a needle in a 'aystack, so we can do just what we like--follow 'em and try and sink 'em in the dark, or wait till they come back in the morning and cut 'em off then."

Well, we was watching and blinking like owls through the glasses, when suddenly, down by the water edge, out blinked two little white lights, some distance apart they were, and steady as anything.

"They're lighting the channel," Mr. Parker said 'urriedly; "something will be coming out directly. Get the men on deck."

They scrambled up in no time, and by the time I'd got back to the bridge the engines were working us round with our bows pointing out to sea.

Mr. Parker was just chuckling to 'imself, "I've got a scheme, Jones, a ripping scheme. If they do come out they sha'n't get back to-night," 'e said.

Then 'e stopped talking, for, as we watched, something dark glided in front of the farther light, and shut it out for 'alf a minute. Then it shone again, and another dark thing shut it out, and so on till it disappeared four times, and then it burnt brightly again.

"Four of them," muttered Mr. Parker, and 'is voice sounded like a blooming earthquake, we was all so still and silent and excited.

It's no use telling me you can judge distances at night, for you can't, and though we thought we'd been no more than a couple o' 'undred yards from the beach, it must 'ave been nearer 'alf a mile, for we saw nothing more for, may be, three or four minutes, when someone down on deck hissed "Ah", and looking shorewards we saw some sparks come flying up. You can't imagine what the excitement was like; all the worse becos' we dursn't make a sound, and we could 'ear our 'earts a-thumping inside of us.

Another minute an' we could 'ear the noise of their engines just gently, slowly "'Ere we are, 'ere we are" they was a-saying, but getting more flurried, and, all of a sudden, with a white splashing under her bows, a long, black torpedo-boat just walked past us, and another and another and a fourth, and were swallowed up to seaward, leaving nothing but some oily smoke, which swept back into our faces.

They hadn't seen us, that seemed pretty certain, but "No. 2" had spotted them, for on the other side of the channel we saw a torrent of sparks flying up into the darkness, and knew she was going after them.

"Mr. Lang is after them, sir; shall we chase?" asked the Sub-lootenant.

But not a bit of it.

"Hard a-starboard, slow ahead starboard, half-speed astern port," were Mr. Parker's orders, and we turned in again towards the little light at the entrance.

I 'eard Mr. Parker say to the Sub-lootenant, "If you'd seen those lights when I did, both of them shining up simultaneously, you'd feel pretty sure that they must be electric and on the same circuit, too. They probably have a cable running out to those outer rocks, and I want you to take the whaler ashore with a 'destruction' party and try and cut the cable or smash the lamps."

Then I understood what we were going to do, and if so be that we doused their glim for them, those torpedo-boats could never get back till daybreak, and we could make mincemeat of 'em.

Nothing seemed moving on shore, not another light could be seen, just those two little lights down by the edge of the water.

The swell was going down fast, too, so we lowered the whaler, an' the Sub chose the five strongest men on board to pull her, and that didn't leave me on board, you may bet your bottom dollar, and we took a torpedo instructor and grapnels and axes and shoved off in the dark, the swell lifting us along towards them lights.

We lost sight of "No. 3" in a brace of shakes, the last thing I saw being Mr. Glover a-looking sad and mournful for once, because Mr. Parker wouldn't let 'im go with us.

Lonely, were we? Why, I never felt so blooming lonely in all my life; not a sound but the oars creaking and the booming of the sea a'ead of us.

"Oars! Hold water, men," whispered the Sub, an' we 'ad time to look round, and there we were, right in between the two little twinkling lights. They were electric, too, as Mr. Parker had guessed, an' they was just light enough to make the rocks they was fixed to look darker than the night itself, and with just a glimmer in the sea which boiled up agin' them below.

There was no going near 'em to wind'ard, that was plain as a pikestaff, and after we had a look at both, shoving our nose as close as we dared, the Sub tried what we could do round the back of 'em, to leeward, where the swell wouldn't trouble us so.

It might have been all right in daylight, but this was just the horridest job as ever I took on.

We did get close in once, and the bowman, as plucky a little fellow as was ever invented, got a hold on it with 'is boat-'ook, but swish swirl came the swell, lifting us up and breaking an oar, and as we dropped again and tried to keep the boat off he lost 'is 'old, for it was only seaweed 'e'd 'ooked 'is boat-'ook in.

"Back hard, men, back hard!" came from the Sub, and we all backed as if the devil was after us, and scraped our keel along another ugly piece of rock, just being lifted over it and not stove in by the next swell that came.

My! but that was a close squeak, I can tell you, and we didn't breathe freely till we had backed out between the two lights once more.

We hadn't been there a minute before we 'eard firing, a long way out to sea. "That's 'No. 2,'" the Sub said, "and we'll have to just be quick about this job before she drives those torpedo-boats home again."

Then we tried edging in as close as we could and throwing a grapnel over the rock, but that wouldn't 'old, nor could we get near the light with it, and once or twice we were nearly stove in and pretty nearly swamped by the end of it.

"It's no good, men," said the Sub-lootenant, when we'd backed out for the last time; "I'm not going to run any more risk. We must try and get hold of the cable running between these two rocks."

That meant that we 'ad to creep for it by dragging the grapnel along the bottom between the two rocks, a mighty slow job at the best, and 'orrid at night. There wasn't no 'elp for it, so we dropped the grapnel to the bottom, with a good stout rope secured to it, and slowly backed the whaler in between the two lights.

Every now and again it would catch something, and we'd get in a state of 'oly joy and 'aul at it, but, offener than not, it was only a piece of seaweed, or it had just caught a rock--you could tell that by the sudden way it gave. We went at it, 'auling the grapnel across where the cable might be, then putting to sea and backing again, for mayhaps 'alf an hour.

Rogers, the torpedo instructor, was 'andling the grapnel line, for the Sub, he says to 'im, "You've had more experience 'unting for lost torpedoes, so you take it, Rogers," which made us laugh, on the quiet, as it 'it the little man rather 'ard, 'e being mighty sore about anything going wrong with 'is torpedoes.

There was not a sound from shore, and not another light could we see. Pretty eerie it was, with every now and again the noise of guns a-firing out to sea, and we went backwards and forwards till we were well-nigh sick of it, and every moment thought one or all of them torpedo-boats would come dashing through, and probably cut us down.

Just as we were about to chuck up the business, Rogers sings out softly that he'd got 'old of something, and sure enough, as another man clapped on the grapnel rope, it came in with a steady pull, and Rogers, leaning over, with his arm in up to the shoulder, as it comes to the surface, says in a muffled voice, "I've got it, sir; right it is, sir."

We passed the grapnel aft. The Sub lashed a rope round the cable and 'auled it over the stern, Rogers coming gingerly stepping between us to cut it in 'alf, and we could just see 'im raise 'is axe, down it came, and out went both the lights.

We could do nothing but chuckle inwardly; we dursn't make a sound, and it 'urt somewhat.

The Sub-lootenant 'ad got one end in his hand, and he hung on to it like grim death, and hauled away till he'd got a couple of fathoms on board, and Rogers cut this hoff, and we dropped the rest of it in the water.

"Back to 'No. 3'," sings out the Sub, and we pulls away as cheerily as mud-larks, and then came the 'unt for her.

We'd got a signal lantern in the boat, and was just a-going to light it, when the Sub-lootenant caught sight of her and 'ailed her softly.

We were aboard in a jiffy and 'oisted the whaler in again, everyone a-patting us on the back.

They'd got some 'ot cocoa made down in the stokehold, too, and served us out some all round, which we needed pretty bad.

There was more firing just about this time, and when we'd got on deck again, after our 'ot cocoa, we were romping along in that direction. But we weren't off to 'elp "No. 2", not by a long chalk, for Mr. Parker or the Sub-lootenant, or both of them, gets another idea (real artistic, too, I called it), and he stops, and we gets out the two collapsable boats and the whaler, and we soon sees what 'is little game is, for he lashes a lantern in each of the small boats and sends the Sub inshore again. We were still, you see, quite close to the rocks, but 'alf a mile farther along.

"Take some fire-bars to moor them with, and leave them as close in as you can," he told the Sub. "Light the lanterns, and come back as fast as you can."

My! wasn't that a pretty little game? and weren't those torpedo-boats a-going to get a sur-prise?

It took pretty near a 'alf-'our to do this, and every now and agin we could 'ear shots--sometimes closer and sometimes seemingly farther off; but at last the lamps shone out, and though they did look a trifle unsteady in the swell, still they was good enough to deceive them Chinese.

When the Sub had got back we went off to where we'd heard the firing.

It was getting less dark now, and a few stars were coming out, and in a few minutes a long dark thing, with flames sputtering from the funnels, went flying past us--one of the Chinamen a-going 'ome--and another followed her, and we just laid low and let them go, chuckling to ourselves and thinking of the trap we'd laid for 'em.

"No. 2" had got hold of something now with a vengeance, for she was firing pretty fast, and, as we hurried over to her, we could see the flames of her guns and sometimes the flash of a busting shell; coming towards us too, she was.

We got our search-light cleared away, and when we were quite close we found "No. 2" a-hanging on to a poor unfortunate torpedo-boat and banging away at it; so we just slewed round her stern and turned our light on the wretched thing--an old torpedo-boat just struggling along at about twelve knots--to make it a respectable target.

That just did the trick, for she got hit by one of "No. 2's" 12-pounders, in the boiler most likely, and seemed just to double up, open out amidships, and go slithering under.

Poor wretches! an' we 'adn't the 'eart to cheer; 'twas so one-sided a show.

We stopped and tried to pick up some of her men, and did save a couple of Chinamen, more dead than alive with fright. They turned out jolly useful, as you shall 'ear afterwards.

"No. 2" hadn't seen the fourth boat, so we pushed on back to the entrance to look for her in case she tried to get in. The two lights we had left were still burning, but we couldn't see what had become of the two torpedo-boats which had passed us.

The people on shore must a 'eard that torpedo-boat blow up, for now a couple of search-lights shot out from somewhere high up on the cliff near the entrance, and began hunting round to see what all the fuss was about.

It just happened that where we'd moored the boats was a bit round the corner and out of sight of them searchlights, so we stayed abreast of them and watched the two beams a-travelling from side to side, and presently saw the missing torpedo-boat coming sneaking in. She must have gone right around the island.

Mr. Lang rushed out from behind our safe corner, and tried to wing her afore she could get into safety, and we followed 'im and tried a few long shots from the 12-pounder; but even I couldn't 'it anything under them conditions, especially as they glared their search-lights in our faces and commenced firing pretty briskly at us with small guns from the shore.

So we goes back round our corner, more quickly than we came out, and whilst we were turning they 'it us once or twice, smashing our whaler, and a splinter of shell or wood knocked over poor Rogers, who was standing by. We thought 'e was only stunned, but 'e was dead as a door-nail, and it 'urt us to think we'd chaffed 'im so unmerciful, and we covered 'im up and put 'im down below.

We waited about till it was light enough to see what 'ad 'appened with our little trap, and then went close inshore again.

Well, there was a 'orrid sight, or joyful sight, whichever way you takes it, for them two torpedo-boats were piled up against the rocks all battered to pieces, one in 'alf and the other bottom up, a-smashing up agin the bottom of the cliff. There wasn't a soul to be seen; and it was well-nigh hopeless, for the cliffs rose straight up from the sea, and no monkey could 'ave climbed them, let alone a Chinaman, so we knew they must have all been drowned. Poor old Rogers would have a lot of them heathen to keep him company.

The two lanterns we'd left in the boats were still burning as innercent as you like, looking yellow in the hazy light of morning.

*CHAPTER XV*

*Mr. Midshipman Glover Tells how he was Wounded*

Lang to the Rescue--In Disgrace--We Hate Dr. Fox

Pat Jones, the quarter-master, has told you all the exciting things that happened the night we reached the island, and how we had bagged three of the four torpedo-boats which came out, with only the loss of poor Rogers.

Both Tommy Toddles and myself were jolly down in our luck at not being allowed to go away in the whaler, and, like the silly idiots we were, we did not take the opportunity of getting a little sleep. The result was, that when daylight came we were both so sleepy, we could hardly stand upright or keep our eyes open.

Mr. Lang had brought "No. 2" close in abreast of the wreck of the Chinese torpedo-boats, and ordered Mr. Parker to recover his two Berthon boats.

As you know, our whaler had been smashed by the same shell that had killed poor Rogers, so she was useless, and suddenly I heard Mr. Parker singing out to me to clear away the dinghy and get her into the water.

"Take four hands with you; put one in each of the Berthon boats, and then tow them back," were his orders, "and take care you don't capsize this time, or back you go to the _Laird_."

We pulled in towards the nearest boat--close inshore she was--and just beyond her, right under the towering cliffs, were the two battered torpedo-boats, with some dead Chinamen washing about among the wreckage--a nasty sight, I can tell you.

We hauled in the moorings of the first boat, one of my four men jumping into her, and we had just commenced to tow her across to where the second bobbed up and down in the water, when ping! ping! came something past my head. A bullet took a splinter out of an oar, and we heard the noise of a rifle high up on the cliffs above us.

Then came a regular hail-storm of them--whip! crack! whip! crack! they went singing past, and throwing up little spurts of water all round us.

You may bet that we pulled hard and tried to make ourselves small.

Suddenly I saw Tomlinson, an A.B., who was pulling stroke oar, get white in the face and drop his oar.

Pat Jones, who had come with me, seized it before it could fall overboard, and Tomlinson tumbled down into the bottom of the boat with both his arms shot through, and helpless.

Then there was a loud boom from "No. 2" or "No. 3", and one of our 12-pounder shells burst against the cliff just below where they were firing at us; another and another followed, the noise rolling from cliff to cliff and making a hideous roar, whilst stones and rock came rolling down and splashing into the sea.

The pirates--Chinamen probably they were, for they shot miserably--left off firing, but before we could weigh the second boat's moorings they began again, firing from the top of the cliffs, a little farther away.

Pat Jones was steadying the dinghy with the oars, whilst Stevens, a Plymouth seaman, and I were hauling in the rope, and hauling, too, for all we were worth, when suddenly Stevens gave a gasp and fell forward, knocking me over, and would have fallen overboard himself had not Jones jumped aft and pulled him aboard. He was dead. I could see that by the way his head hung sideways as he was hauled into the boat, and Jones laid him down alongside Tomlinson, who was groaning horribly.

The rope, too, had slipped through my hands, and the moorings had to be hauled up again. Jones and I seized hold of them, and it was then that I felt something hit me in the leg. It felt just as if somebody had struck me hard with a ruler or the flat of one of our dirks.

I can't really remember accurately what happened after that till I found myself pulling the stroke-oar and towing the two Berthon boats away from those horrid cliffs. I felt terribly sick, and it was all I could do to keep my foot from hurting Tomlinson and to keep the other away from the dead man.

I seemed to wake up quite suddenly with my wrists feeling like hot irons, and with hardly strength to lift the clumsy oar out of the water. All the time, just as if it was in a dream, Jones behind me kept on saying, "Steady, sir, steady!"

Little spurts of water were still jumping up close to us, but I was too utterly tired to worry about them. My leg, the one that had been hit, began to feel like lead, and I know that I lurched over the loom of my oar once or twice, and could hardly pull it through the water.

"You'll do more good steering, sir," said Jones, and he got hold of my oar, shifted the crutch, and pulled both oars himself, working like a machine. I managed to scramble aft and get hold of the tiller, and just remember seeing "No. 2's" whaler, with Mr. Lang in her, coming down towards us.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes to find myself in Mr. Parker's bunk, and the propellers whizzing round and shaking the whole stern of the destroyer.

Looking over the edge of the bunk I saw Tommy Toddles in a chair fast asleep, with his head hanging over to one side in a most comical manner.

I guessed what had happened. I had simply fallen asleep in the boat, and had been put in Mr. Parker's bunk, with Tommy to watch over me, and he, too, had gone to sleep. I felt frightfully ashamed of myself for being such a baby, and crawled out, found my trousers, which someone had taken off in order to bandage my leg, and dressed myself rather gingerly, because the leg was very stiff, and smarted a good deal when I moved it. There were two neat little holes in the trouser leg, where a bullet had gone through, and a patch of blood, which stiffened the cloth all round them. I did feel proud!

What a joke it would be, I thought, to leave Tommy sleeping there and guarding the empty bunk; but then it struck me that Mr. Parker would only be the more angry, so I shook him, and a big job I had to wake him.

He did look silly when at last he opened his eyes and mumbled something about it not being his watch, and we both scrambled on deck and made our way for'ard.

It was a lovely warm, bright morning, and right astern was the island which had been so horribly close to us all night. Oh, we were so sleepy, and all over the deck men were lying sound asleep curled up in corners out of the breeze. Just abaft the after funnel was a heap covered with our best ensign, and we hardly cared to pass it, for we knew that poor Rogers and Stevens were underneath.

We clambered up the bridge ladder, passing Pat Jones at the wheel, who smiled grimly, with a warning look at Mr. Parker. He, with his back turned to us, and dressed in oil-skins and sou'wester, stood, gripping the bridge rails, as rigid as a statue.

You should have seen him jump when I said, "Please, sir, I'm all right now, sir," and Tommy, saluting, sleepily added, "Please, sir, Glover's woke up."

He looked ten years older: his eyes, sunk deep in their sockets, stared at us in a dull way, his cheeks were sunken, and his whole face was furrowed with deep lines. He had practically not left the bridge for forty-eight hours, and it was wonderful how he could stand the strain.

He swore angrily at us--at me for coming on deck without leave, and at Tommy for letting me get up.

"But please, sir," I began, "Tommy did not----"

I just stopped in time, for I was going to tell him that Tommy had been asleep.

Tommy, however, looking very ashamed, blurted out, "I went to sleep, sir, and Glover got up without waking me."

That made Mr. Parker all the more angry, and he sent us both below.

"Both of you will go back to the _Laird_. Have your chest ready in half an hour!" he said, snapping our heads off.

We saw the _Laird_ steaming to meet us, and went below again, feeling absolutely wretched, and commenced slowly to stow our things away in the chest which Tommy shared with me.

The next thing we knew was that we were being roughly shaken by Pat Jones, and we woke to find that we had both been asleep. Tommy was sprawled right across the chest, face downwards, with a pair of boots in his hand.

We could have cried, we were so angry with ourselves.

A cutter from the _Laird_ was alongside, and we two and Tomlinson, the wounded man, were pulled across to her, Mr. Parker coming too to make his report.

As we went up the gangway we could hardly face all the midshipmen who crowded round us--Mellins, and Dumpling, and all the others--we felt so much in disgrace, and I had not even the heart to tell them that I'd been wounded.

I had to hobble for'ard to the sick-bay, and the bandage was taken off my leg.

"Just a skin wound, Glover," Dr. Fox said, and put in some stitches, which didn't pain me half as much as I expected.

"I needn't go on the sick-list, sir, need I?"

The Fleet Surgeon smiled in his nasty way, and then fastened a long splint to the leg, and, of course, that made it certain that I could not go back to "No. 3".

How I did wish that I had not gone to sleep in the boat, and then no one would have known that my leg had been hit, and I might still have been aboard her. What a fool I had been! All my chances were gone, and, feeling utterly wretched, I couldn't manage to keep back a tear, and Dr. Fox saw it before I could brush it away.

"Pain you, youngster?" he asked, and then he must have understood, for he laughed and called me a young fire-eater, and wanted to know if I wasn't content with having been wounded twice, which made me get red and uncomfortable, and made me hate him.

It was impossible to walk with the beastly splint, so they carried me aft and put me in the Captain's spare cabin.

Tommy came along, too, and spread his hammock on deck, the sentry outside shut the door, and we slept soundly for nearly ten hours. Wasn't that a sleep? and weren't we hungry, too, when we did wake up?

Tommy went off to the gun-room, and the mess-man sent us in any amount of food. What a time we did have! And all the midshipmen crowded in and talked thirteen to the dozen, and wanted to hear all about our adventures, and to see the scratch in my leg. You can imagine how important I felt, especially when Captain Helston, with his arm still bandaged to his side, came to see me, and said some awfully jolly things. What I wanted, though, and what we both wanted, was to know whether we could go back to "No. 3", and I managed awkwardly, and getting very red in the face, to ask him.

He smiled grimly, and said, "I'll see what I can do when you come off the sick-list," and left us happy again.

It turned out that Mr. Parker himself had fallen asleep in Captain Helston's cabin after he had reported to him, and that, as everybody in both destroyers had been practically forty-eight hours without rest, people had been sent to them from the _Laird_ just to keep up steam and keep a look-out during the day.

This news made Tommy and myself quite contented, for, at any rate, we were not the only ones who couldn't keep awake.

Mellins and Dumpling had, however, both been sent to "No. 3" to take our place--temporarily we hoped.

"You haven't missed much," added Ogston, the Assistant Engineer, who had been so plucky in the sinking steamer, "for the _Strong Arm_ has not joined us, and we've been doing nothing all day."

They had buried both Rogers and Stevens. Poor fellows! they lay in a hundred fathoms, and brought our list of killed up to fourteen already.

Dr. Fox came in then, cleared everybody out of the cabin, gave orders to the sentry that no one was to be allowed in, turned out the light, and left me. Just like him, was it not? But I had a pencil and paper, turned up the light again, and wrote a tremendous letter home, just to spite him.

*CHAPTER XVI*

*Captain Helston's Indecision*

A Weary Blockade--Getting Impatient--The Prisoner's Story--A
Willing Prisoner--The Pirates' Cunning--Ping Sang Excited--News
from Home--Helston's Ill Health--Cummins Indispensable--A
Gun-room Scrap--Now to Business

The few days which followed after the events narrated in the last chapter were days of peace and devoid of excitement. Well, they were needed, too, to allow the crews of the destroyers to recuperate after their exertions and want of sleep, and to repair the minor damages incurred by the fast steaming of the squadron from Hong-Kong.

The two poor fellows who had been killed were buried at sea with all the solemnity possible under the circumstances, all the ships stopping their engines and lowering their ensigns to half-mast, the crews standing bareheaded whilst the service was being read, and remaining "at attention" till, sewn up each in his hammock, the two bodies plunged overboard and sank out of sight.

The _Strong Arm_ rejoined from Hong-Kong after having buried her men in the Happy Valley cemetery, and she, too, added to Captain Helston's anxieties by developing considerable engine-room defects, and by having eaten up half her coal.

Hunter, eager to arrive at the scene of action and not to miss any of the fighting, had pressed her through head seas at the greatest speed he could get out of her, with the result that for six days she was practically useless, with every artificer in the squadron tinkering away at her bearings and condensers.

Fortunately the weather held fair, and by repairing only one main engine at a time she was able to crawl away from the island each night and crawl back in the morning, lying most of the day utterly unable to assist in a fight if the pirates had come out.

Each night the destroyers "No. 2" and "No. 3" crept inshore to cut off any issuing torpedo-boats, but, after their first fatal attempt, none attempted a sortie, and, save that on occasions when Mr. Lang or Mr. Parker ventured within gunshot during daylight and drew a sulky warning fire from the batteries on each side of the entrance, there were no signs of life and nothing to remind them that, hidden behind those rocks and wooded slopes, hundreds of cunning, slit-like eyes were keeping watch.

With the weather fair and the sea calm the destroyers coaled without difficulty from the little _Sylvia_, and in four days of arduous work the _Laird_ and the _Strong Arm_ also filled up their bunkers.

It can easily be imagined how difficult, how dangerous, and how slow was this operation in an open sea, with the chance of the pirates coming out at any time to interrupt it, or the wind and sea rising and making it impossible.

However, Captain Helston's luck held, and in six days' time he had all his bunkers full, and the _Strong Arm_ repaired sufficiently well to rely upon getting sixteen or seventeen knots out of her.

But he had no definite plans to act upon.

After seven months' hard work, during which he had overcome a thousand difficulties, he had brought his little squadron to the scene of action, but, once having reached his goal, he seemed to lose his power of initiative, and instead of making the first move himself, he waited for the enemy to do so.

Day succeeded day and nothing was done.

Each night, with lights out, the _Laird_, _Strong Arm_, and _Sylvia_ vanished into the darkness, rejoined each other at a given rendezvous next morning at earliest daybreak, and moved in towards the island.

The destroyers sleepily would join them after their night's watching, and there the squadron would lie till sunset came, and the same routine commenced again.

To the Commander of the squadron and to all his officers, to say nothing of the men, it became very apparent that events had reached an impasse.

If the enemy chose but to lie quiet in their island stronghold and wait, a time would surely come when the blockading squadron would have to depart. No ships, however stoutly built, can stand constant work for any length of time in those stormy seas without a refuge in which occasionally to shelter, coal, revictual, and give their crews a "run ashore". Men and officers, too, become "stale", dispirited, and discontented with the monotony of blockade-work and the monotony of an unvarying and not too palatable diet.

Once this "staleness" develops, the sick-list grows apace, and general slackness makes itself felt.

There was no doubt whatever that the clever schemers in that little island had laid their plans accordingly, and were quite content to allow Captain Helston and his ships to wear themselves out in a wearisome blockade, probably conjecturing that, with the dislike of prolonged inaction, the Englishmen would throw their cards on the table and make a combined attack on the island, which they considered--and justly, as events turned out--was impregnable to sea attack.

Nor were they wrong in their supposition, for at the end of ten days' monotony, ten days during which not a sail nor the smoke of a steamer had broken the empty circle of the horizon, everyone became impatient, and no one more so than the nervous, highly-strung Helston.

He knew well enough that every day which elapsed meant a further encroachment on the funds of the China Defence Association, and if he had perchance forgotten this fact, Ping Sang was there at his elbow to jog his memory and counsel a more active policy.

"My dear Captain," he would say, patting Helston's still empty sleeve, "we can't remain here for the remainder of our lives. I've already spent nearly a million and a half, and we seem as far off as ever from securing these pirates. With all your guns and with all your fine English sailor men, you surely ought to be able to knock the pirate syndicate and their Chinese bandits on the head."

Nothing that Helston or anyone else could tell him would make him understand the rashness of opposing ships to forts, especially ships with but scanty reserves of ammunition (in the hold of the stout little _Sylvia_), and with no place of refuge in case of damage.

Hunter, the lion-hearted, was also for trying the weight of his metal against the shore guns.

"As a preliminary to what?" Helston would ask.

"Well, you see, sir, we'd batter their forts to pieces, and then we'd land and secure them, and possibly might be able to turn any guns left in them on the blackguards down below."

Helston's own ideas, if he could have put them in definite form, were probably to try and starve the pirates into making a desperate sortie, and, if this should happen, he was perfectly confident of the result. This may have been the soundest scheme, but success depended on so many factors. First, it meant time--possibly a considerable time--and time meant money, and Ping Sang was already inclined to draw tight the purse-strings. Secondly, it meant a sufficient force to blockade, and that, Helston ruefully confessed, he did not possess; and thirdly, and most important of all, was the question whether the island could be starved out in, say, two months, or possibly three at the most.

On this last point the two Chinese captured from the sunken torpedo-boat were able to give information which effectually dispelled this hope. For the first day or two after their capture they had preserved a sullen silence, and expected instant death. As day after day went by, and they received food and blankets to sleep in, it dawned upon them that they were not being reserved even for torture, and they gradually became more communicative.

A Tsi, the silent, inscrutable, right-hand man of Ho Ming, interviewed them every day, at first with no success, but eventually he was able to bring them into a more amiable frame of mind, and they promised to give what information they possessed.

When their leg-irons were removed, and they were marched up on deck and taken aft between a file of marines, their thoughts again flew to death, and their terror was great, in spite of A Tsi's assurances that did they but speak the truth they need fear nothing.

Each one was separately examined in Captain Helston's cabin before the Captain, Dr. Fox, and Ping Sang.

The first, a tall Tartar of fine physique, was only held upright by the vigorous support of A Tsi, who bundled him into the cabin, his knees bending and knocking together under his huge body. Looking from one to another like a hunted animal at bay, he salaamed, with both hands to his forehead, to each one in turn, and a second time to Captain Helston.

His story, drawn out of him with difficulty, was this. He had been a sailor aboard a merchant ship captured by the pirates, and, on the promise of his life, had taken service with them, being sent aboard one of the old torpedo-boats on account of his knowledge of seamanship.

He had no complaint of his masters' conduct towards him, and they paid him two or three dollars a month, with which to buy tobacco and sweetmeats.

"He looks half starved. Ask him if they get enough to eat," asked Helston.

"He says they get plenty," answered A Tsi, smiling, "but North Chinaman he never gets fat."

"What does he know about the store of provisions on the island?"

He seemed to know a good deal about these. He had formed one of a working-party a fortnight ago to unload a captured ship laden with tinned meat and flour, and they had to leave a large part of it in the open, covered with tarpaulins, because the go-downs were already full.

"At the end of the time each man was allowed to take away what he wanted," finished A Tsi, whilst the Chinaman spread his hands apart and tried to express a vast quantity.

At each question there would be a rapid flow of queries and answers in Chinese between A Tsi and the prisoner, the latter gesticulating excitedly to explain his answers, and, whilst the former was interpreting, he would try to follow him with pantomimic gesture and alterations of expression, looking from one to another in an imploring manner.

He was asked the number of men on the island. He could not tell.

"Many?"

"Yes, a great many."

"A thousand?"

"Yes, more than a thousand."

"Two thousand?"

He screwed up his face and evidently did his best to calculate.

No, he could not tell; a thousand, yes; but two thousand he could not say, and solemnly shook his head long after A Tsi had finished.

Being a sailor, he could give more definite information about the ships. There were four cruisers and eight or nine torpedo-boats, not counting the one to which he had belonged nor the two that were wrecked.

"Has he seen the two destroyers, and are they damaged?"

Yes, he had seen them come into the harbour, and many men had been sent aboard them, but he did not know whether they were damaged.

The names of three of the cruisers were _Yao Yuen_, _Mao Yuen_, and _Tu Ping_. These were the three of which Ping Sang had originally informed Helston. Another he mentioned, the _Hong Lu_, was evidently the cruiser which had beaten off "No. 2" and "No. 3".

"Ask him if they are very fast."

"_Yao Yuen, Mao Yuen_?" and he shook his head. "_Tu Ping_?" he shook his head still more vigorously. "_Hong Lu_?" and he opened his hands quickly and nodded, nodding so fast that Cummins, who had just entered the cabin, with the inevitable toothpick in his mouth, chuckled "He! he! he! you'll lose your pigtail, old chap, if you aren't more careful."

"What speed can she go?"

No; he did not know.

"As fast as a torpedo-boat?"

He drew in his breath with a whistling noise, and tried to show by gestures her extreme speed.

"What size is she?"

He did not know, nor what guns she carried. He was taken on deck to look at the _Strong Arm_, lying quietly half a mile away, and then brought down again.

No; she was not so large, but how large he could not say.

As to the forts, all that could be got out of him was that there was one on each side of the entrance, and, as far as he knew, none anywhere else.

He did not even know how many guns they had.

"Have they done much practice firing from them?"

Yes; he had heard them many times lately, but his knowledge on all these points was vague in the extreme.

He could rattle off the names of all the merchant ships there, and seemed to have a sneaking regard for his old ship, for he plucked A Tsi nervously by the sleeve and talked excitedly to him, pointing to the Captain.

"What does he want?" asked Helston.

"He says, sir, that if you recapture the _Tsli Yamen_, the ship he belonged to formerly, he wants you to say a good word for him to the owners."

"Tell him that if he answers all our questions truthfully we will not forget him."

When this was explained to him he salaamed very vigorously, bending his long body three times to Helston.

"How many white men are there on the island?" asked Cummins.

He could not say. "Three?"

No, there were more than three--four, five, or six, maybe, but he could not say.

Asked as to the events just previous to the arrival of the squadron, he did not know much. Some two or three ships had been captured lately, no big ones, and the _Hong Lu_ had come in the same day as the destroyers, only early in the morning, from the south, he knew, for a friend of his was aboard her and had told him.

She had brought two white men with her.

"Could he describe them?"

He pretended to limp. Evidently one was Hamilton, the lame Englishman, and the other, from his description, might have been Hopkins.

"Are there any white men prisoners on the island?" It was Cummins who asked this, and he, in fact, had asked most of the questions since he had come down to the cabin, Captain Helston almost unconsciously giving way to him.

"No prisoners, only engineers and soldiers. One white man in charge of the forts, two others in charge of all the ships' engines.

"They keep no white men prisoners. If they find one aboard a captured steamer they send him to the mainland in a junk."

"Are there any white women on the island?"

"No. Once there were two, but he thinks the white men began to quarrel amongst themselves, so they sent them away very quickly."

"No chance of winning a wife here, sir," added Cummins, chuckling.

"I'm not so certain about that," replied Helston, the hard lines on his careworn face softening.

"Still thinking of that little minx Milly," growled Dr. Fox to himself.

Cummins then showed the prisoner a rough plan of the island, copied from Ping Sang's original chart, and, after A Tsi had explained it, the Chinaman roughly indicated the position of the forts, go-downs (warehouses), the white mens' houses, the anchorage of the men-of-war and the captured merchant ships.

"I think that we have obtained all we want to know from this man," Helston concluded. "Except about the amount of food on the island, he does not seem to know much. Does anyone want to ask him any further questions?"

Cummins wanted to know what stock of coal there was on the island.

As far as the man knew, there were enormous stacks of it on shore, and several ships laden with coal.

"Does any ship ever leave the harbour by the small channel at the back of the island?"

"Only small steam-boats and junks," the prisoner said.

"I've nothing more to ask him," said Cummins, so the man was marched away and given a cigar to smoke as a reward.

"We shall not starve them out, sir," was Cummins's only comment.

Helston shrugged his shoulders.

The second man was brought in, a cunning-looking rascal with unshaven head, his repulsive face made still more hideous by several scars. More scars were visible on his sunken-in chest, and altogether he was a most disagreeable-looking specimen of the human race.

He talked more freely than the other man, and told his story very volubly.

He had been a "boss" workman in the engine works at the Foochow Arsenal, and had been recruited with many others by the German Schmidt, and shipped to Hong Lu without any knowledge of the character of the employment.

"Does he complain?"

"Oh no, rather not!" He was paid well, spent nothing except a little on tobacco, and had not much work to do. After working for some months on board the merchant steamers, he was put in charge of the engines of the ill-fated torpedo-boat, and that was why he was aboard her that night.

"What did he do aboard the merchant ships?"

He seemed to have been a leading hand of shipwrights, and had had many men under his orders. He quite warmed to the subject, and told of all the jobs he had done for the last six months.

He had lengthened the funnel of one steamer, added a fo'c'stle to another, altered the bows of a third, and the masts of a fourth.

"My aunt!" chuckled Cummins, as A Tsi interpreted this, "I see now how these people make their fortune. They capture a steamer, bring her in here, alter her so that her own builders would not recognize her, and then take her down to some quiet port on the mainland and sell her. Ask him, A Tsi, if that is so."

Yes, that was so; and the Chinaman looked surprised at their ignorance.

The syndicate, it appeared from what he said, had constructed a ship-repairing yard, and kept it most of the time working at high pressure. Sometimes they kept a ship as long as six months, but whenever a ship did leave, no one could possibly recognize her as the one which had been brought in.

On all other points this prisoner corroborated the first, and dotted down on another rough plan of the island the positions of the forts, ships, &c., very much as he had done it.

As to food and coal, they had enough to last "many moons".

"Mountains of coal" was his description.

Asked by Cummins why the other torpedo-boats had not come out, he promptly replied that their engines were unfit for any speed, and that their crews were probably frightened.

Directly Ping Sang heard the man's statement about reconstructing steamers captured and altering their appearance, he went away to his cabin, and returned carrying some papers.

At the first opportunity he asked the prisoner, speaking in Chinese, and with very unusual excitement, if ever he remembered the capture of a ship named the _Fi Ting_.

He remembered her quite well; had worked aboard her. "She had one funnel and three masts ('Yes,' nodded Ping Sang), and they built a covered-in fo'c'stle, took out one mast, and shortened the other two."

"Yes, yes," nodded Ping Sang excitedly; "anything else?"

"We altered the bridge, built it ten or twelve feet farther forward, and put up several cabins between it and the funnel."

"You did! you did! And what name did you give her?" shrieked Ping Sang.

The man thought a little and shook his head, evidently in some fear of the fat little merchant.

"He won't say, sir; says that he cannot remember; he only did what he was told; it was not his fault," said A Tsi, to whom the man had turned.

Another flow of language came from Ping Sang, before which the wretched Chinaman flinched, and eventually he gave the name _Ling Lu Ming_.