Chapter VII: Part 7

"I knew it! I knew it!" roared Ping Sang, rolling from side to side, and getting red in the face with indignation, which just as suddenly turned to a broad smile, and with a twinkle of his eyes he told Captain Helston that he had bought the _Fi Ting_ for L150,000, lost her six months later, and then bought the _Ping Lu Ming_ cheaply for L120,000 in Amoy.

"I always suspected she was the same," he added cheerfully.

It was one of the amusing characteristics of this little man that his wrath always vanished as quickly as it grew, and was followed by envy of the "cuteness" which had got the better of him, and he bore not the least malice, only looking forward to a future opportunity of "squaring the account".

The prisoner, seeing Ping Sang's benign, amused expression, took courage and ventured a smile too--a cunning, treacherous enough smile; but it quickly died away, and the colour fled from his yellow skin, for Ping Sang, catching sight of it, jumped from his chair, and shaking a fat little finger at him, let flow a torrent of words which left him speechless with anger, only to recover his usual urbanity a moment later when Captain Helston asked him what he had said.

"Nothing, nothing, Captain; only assured him that I would have his liver torn out and make him eat it if he did not stop grinning."

He meant it, too, for, if half the stories which were told of Ping Sang were to be credited, although he was as gentle as possible under the British flag, yet woe to anyone who crossed his path when not under that protection.

At this moment the signal midshipman came running down from the bridge in a state of great excitement, and reported smoke on the horizon coming from the south-east.

The prisoners were sent away, and everyone immediately went on deck.

On deck all was animation. It was about half-past four--the men's supper-hour--all being below except the watch-keepers; but directly the word had flown round the mess-decks that a steamer had been sighted, every man Jack poured up to see and hear news of the approaching stranger.

Already signals had been made to "No. 2" to steam to meet her, and leisurely she gathered way, though by the little puffs of black smoke that came from her funnels quickly, one after another, one knew that her stokers were shovelling coal on her furnace gratings for all they were worth.

Gradually the column of smoke mounted up over the horizon, and from the foremast-head a sharp-eyed signalman sang out that she was a man-of-war with fighting-tops, and was making straight for the island.

If she was a man-of-war she might be yet another of the pirate ships, and there was the welcome chance of a "scrap"; but even if this did not turn out to be true, there was something else almost as welcome: she might bring a mail, and it is only those who "go down to the sea in ships" who know what that means.

Then "No. 2" began to signal, and the yeoman of signals, saluting, reported to Captain Helston "The _Undaunted_, sir!" (The _Undaunted_ was one of the armoured cruisers of the British China Squadron.)

"Can't capture her, I suppose?" suggested Ping Sang, with a smile.

"She may be coming up here to capture us, though," answered Helston, looking worried. "The Admiral would hardly have sent her out of her way unless he had important communications to make. I trust sincerely that she brings no bad news."

"Cheer up, old croaker!" said Dr. Fox; "we'll get some mails at any rate."

By this time the naked eye could easily identify her white side and yellow funnels and cowls glistening in the setting sun, and the white ensign flying at her gaff, as fair a sight as any British naval man ever wants to see.

"No. 2" was following her towards the squadron, looking like some disreputable little terrier keeping a respectful distance from a stately St. Bernard. More signals flew backward and forward, presently the semaphores began to jerk their arms up and down, and the _Undaunted_ slowed as she came abreast the _Laird_, and stopped her engines.

"Away first cutter! Away galley!" yelled the bos'n's mate, and rapidly these boats were lowered, and in a couple of minutes Captain Helston was being pulled across to the _Undaunted_ by six strong pairs of arms, whilst the cutter, with that signal flying from the _Undaunted_, "Send boat for mails", was not much behind-hand. In half an hour both boats were back again, and the bulky mail-bags hauled aboard by willing hands. Then letters for home, already written and only waiting for closing up, were sent across, and the _Undaunted_ slowly began to move away.

As she steadied on her course her crew "manned and cheered ship", three ringing cheers coming across the water, and one cheer more for luck.

The _Laird's_ were not slow to answer, and the crew ran aloft, crowded along the port side, and, taking time from little Cummins, who, with his cap in his hand, yelled as best he could with a toothpick in his mouth, sent back cheer for cheer.

The _Strong Arm_ sent her cheers, too, and the _Sylvia_, "No. 2", and "No. 3" joined in with their more feeble shouts.

Down they poured out of the rigging, eager to get their mail, which the Master-at-Arms was already distributing, the _Undaunted_ slipped away on her errand to the north (a mission-house had been burnt down somewhere or other, somebody or other had to suffer for the deed, and she was away to see that somebody or other did suffer for it), and the little squadron was left alone again with its pirate island--a lonely-looking island and a rather lonely little squadron after its fleeting glimpse of its own white ensign, reading its letters from home in the failing daylight, with a job to do which seemed too big for it.

As Dr. Fox rather vulgarly expressed it to Helston, "You've bitten off a bigger piece than you can chew, old chap."

"Well, perhaps so, Fox; we'll see."

Captain Helston's letters--his official ones, at any rate--were certainly a worry to him. He had hardly finished reading them when sunset was reported, and up he had to go to superintend the scattering of the squadron for the night, and to make the rendezvous for the early morning.

He came down to dinner, but let it go untouched.

"Come up on deck, Fox, and get some exercise on the quarter-deck," he said at length. "I want a yarn with you." (Dr. Fox usually dined with him.)

"Never take a man away from his food to tell him bad news," growled the Doctor, after they had paced the quarter-deck twenty times without saying a word. "Let me know the worst."

"My arm's hurting me, Doc. Can't you ease it?" exclaimed Helston in his most worried expression of voice.

"Well, well, stay still, and I'll just rearrange it, old chap. Now, that's more comfortable, eh? Hand a bit too low; blood too much in the fingers, eh? Have it in the sleeve in another week. Feel better now?" And Dr. Fox made him more comfortable, speaking as if his patient were a little petulant child. "Now, tell me all about it."

"It comes to this," began Helston, wheeling round and rapidly walking up and down. "The Admiral is going to communicate with me in one month from this date, and, in case I cannot report any material progress, he has orders from home to assist me.

"You know very well what that means. My chance of promotion is gone unless I manage to capture the island in four weeks."

Dr. Fox was well aware that a month was all too short a time. He knew only too well Helston's limitations as a commander, and his inability to formulate or to adhere to any plans involving grave issues. He knew, too, the bad effect of this mental indecision and anxiety on his health, his growing inability to sleep, and his increasing irritability of temper, yet he could not, merely as senior doctor of the expedition and old friend of its commander, accept the responsibility of making any suggestion either for further delay or for immediate action.

"It is not my job, and I will not originate anything."

But one thing he did know, and that was that if anybody could do the work it was Cummins, and to Cummins the decision should and must be left.

"Send for Cummins, Helston; tell him what you have told me; give him twenty-four hours to arrange a course of action; don't attempt to influence him in any way, and act upon his advice. On no account ask either Bannerman, who is a mere talker and a braggart, or Hunter, who is a magnificent, a splendid man, but a fool."

Now, as has been said before, Captain Helston was jealous of his Commander. He would have been the first to resent the imputation; but there it was, call it what you may, the necessary sequence of a feeble will hardly yet conscious of its weakness in the presence of the strong and overmastering will of a junior officer.

"You're right, Fox, I know you're right. I'll send for him and see what he suggests."

"That is not enough, Helston, you must decide to act upon his suggestions." And Dr. Fox argued with him for half an hour or more as they paced that deck. At last Helston agreed, and Cummins was sent for.

He came shuffling aft, a queer, grotesque little figure in the darkness (no lights were burnt or shown at night-time), took a glowing cigar from his mouth, and saluted.

Helston told him of the admiral's letter.

"That means all U.P. with us, unless we do the trick in a month; eh, sir?" he chuckled. "They are not any too liberal at home, are they?"

"I have sent for you," continued Helston, and Dr. Fox noticed a constrained tone in his voice, "to ask you for your advice as to what is to be done."

"Do you intend only to consider my suggestions, or do you intend to act upon them, sir?" replied Cummins, and Dr. Fox saw his figure stiffen to attention, could almost hear his jaws clench together, and saw his cigar go whizzing overboard and extinguish itself in the sea.

"I--I--intend--to--to--follow them," said Helston nervously, "and I'll give you twenty-four hours to formulate them."

"I do not require twenty-four hours, sir. Two days I want to examine the coast-line of the island more thoroughly. If I obtain no accurate information as to the position of the guns and other defences they have, I want you to bombard the entrance on the third day, and at the end of the third day I will give you my further plans, which depend on the result of the information I can gain during that time; that is, sir, if you require them."

"But what then?" asked Helston nervously.

"I cannot say, sir. All depends on what we discover by the end of that time."

"Very good, Cummins; you can make what dispositions you choose."

"It all depends on the weather, sir, and I must have calm days--the first two calm days."

"All right! Come down and look at that chart again."

"Thank you, sir, and I'll have another cigar as well."

* * * * *

The visit of the _Undaunted_ and the mail which she had brought were perhaps more welcome to the gun-rooms of the _Laird_ and _Strong Arm_ than to anyone else, for monotony palls more readily on youngsters than it does on men, and certainly they become more rapidly home-sick.

Dinner that night in the _Laird's_ gun-room, though it did consist chiefly of corned meat and sardines, was a joyous meal.

Every one of them had heard from home, everyone had something to talk about, and the gun-room, littered with piles of newly opened newspapers, illustrated weeklies and magazines, was like a bear-garden.

Books, boots, telescopes, school-books and midshipmen's logs, papers, uniform caps, sextant boxes, and oilskins lay in confused heaps on the deck and on the tops of the midshipmen's lockers, where they had been swept off the table during the progress of laying it for dinner.

Several rapid and vigorous passages of arms had already delighted everybody, except, of course, the seniors, who did not appreciate the damage resulting to crockery and glasses, of which they were already running short.

Glover himself, forgetting for a moment his wounded leg (it was now perfectly healed), had thrown himself with unaccustomed vigour into a melee at the lower end of the table--the end farthest from where Jeffreys the Sub (the reigning monarch) and the two Assistant Engineers sat--and had disappeared from view under it. Here he was passed from one to another by the gentle process of being kicked from side to side, and his only chance was to hug the first pair of feet he could get hold of and drag the owner down with him.

This he did, and there they lay and struggled as to who should gain the vacant place, whilst their chums joyously drummed on their ribs indiscriminately and laid odds on one or the other appearing first.

Eventually Glover's head did appear first, but a glass of water poured over his head by a chum who was backing the other, and a vigorous pull from below by his opponent made him disappear again, and the table-cloth went with him, dragging with it knives and forks, glasses and plates, in a mighty cataract.

This was too much for the onlookers, and with one accord they disappeared under the table and fought, while the domestics, perfectly accustomed to such a scene, jumped nimbly round, saving plates and glasses as these came to sight amidst the struggling jumble of arms and legs.

Those at the upper end of the table, which fortunately had its own separate cloth, went on with their meal undisturbed--all except Dumpling, who, seizing the mess extras-book, dealt vigorous blows on any undefended portion of anatomy which disclosed itself from beneath the table.

That was Dumpling "all over". Was there a fight or a "scrum", he was always near at hand, whacking indiscriminately, but never venturing a "rough and tumble" himself.

By this time the uproar was so great that Jeffreys, Ogston, and the other Assistant Engineer could literally not hear themselves speak, and the table, heaving once or twice as the midshipmen fought and struggled beneath it, gave ominous signs of capsizing.

"Stop it, you young idiots!" roared Jeffreys, smiting the table with his open hand and calling the senior midshipman by name.

In a minute they were back in their places, flushed and happy, with collars gone, coats torn, and here and there small gashes on their faces, which their nearest chums wiped affectionately with the crumpled table-cloth.

Order once restored, they fell to with redoubled vigour, and sardines disappeared like magic--sardines, tinned butter and biscuits.

"Well, I can't get over that news from home," said Dumpling for about the fourth time since the mail had come aboard.

"Whatever is it, Dumpling?" they all chorused. "Your old cat had kittens?"

"No, you chaps, didn't I tell you? My sister is engaged to the son of a duke. I simply can't get over it."

"Can't you, really! Then try if that will help you," sang out Mellins, and he heaved a sea-boot at Dumpling's head. Dumpling was much too nimble, and it only crashed into the helpless Mess steward, who was doing his best to serve them all, smashed to smithereens a jug which he was carrying, and caught him fair and square on the chest.

"Awfully sorry, Watson," said Mellins apologetically.

"Put Mr. Dunning down for six jugs, Messman," said Jeffreys--"six for sky-larking."

"But I didn't throw it; it wasn't my fault," stammered Dumpling.

"Your fault, be hanged! you deserved it."

"But my sister _is_ engaged to the son of a----" he began again.

"Come here, Dunning!" Jeffreys yelled. "Now, stand at my side here; give me your arm. No, I'll be quite gentle with you," as he twisted it slightly and Dumpling winced. "Now, tell us all very nicely about your sister. Whom is she going to marry?"

"The son of a du----" began Dumpling.

"No, no, she isn't, my friend. Just repeat after me: My sister--is--going--to marry--a--broken-down--drunken--cab-driver. Now do as I tell you," as Dumpling became defiant, "or before you know where you are you shall have a dozen of the best across your back." And he twisted his arm till he writhed with pain.

"My sister is--going--to--marry a cabman," he stuttered, red in the face.

"A--broken-down--drunken cab-driver," Jeffreys roared; but Dumpling was spared the indignity of repeating that, for a messenger put his head in at the door and sang out that the midshipmen of the picket-boat and second cutter were wanted in the Commander's cabin immediately, and as Dumpling had the second cutter, he wriggled himself free and escaped.

Mellins was the proud "owner" of the picket-boat, and, with their recent animosities forgotten, both boys bolted like rabbits to the Commander's cabin.

"Mr. Christie" (Mellins's real name), he began, as they both stood to attention, "you will have your boat ready, with steam up, to hoist out at five o'clock to-morrow morning. See that her tanks and bunkers are full. You, Mr. Dunning, are the duty cutter for to-morrow, I believe. You will also be ready to lower into the water at five o'clock, and be prepared to be taken in tow. You can provide rifles and pistols for your men, and sling the former under the boat's thwarts. Ammunition will be given you in the morning. Both of you will see that your crews' food is prepared overnight, and that your boats' breakers (water-barrels) are full of drinking-water. Go away and make your preparations at once."

Both boys slipped away with eager faces, but with this difference, that whilst Mellins went off to find his coxswain, and was clambering into his boat two minutes afterwards to make certain that all was correct, Dumpling first went down to the gun-room to pose as a hero, specially selected by the Commander, and, with a lot of unnecessary fuss, found his dirk, and took it for'ard to sharpen it on the grindstone.

"That youngster wants kicking badly," said Ogston.

"He shall get it when he comes back," answered Jeffreys nonchalantly.

*CHAPTER XVII*

*Spying Out the Pirates*

We go Inshore--In Under the Forts--Helplessly Drifting--We Hide
among Rocks--A Terrible Moment--Spying Out the Pirates--Taking
Notes--Hopkins Again--How shall we Escape?--Cummins Decides

_Mr. Midshipman Glover tells how he visited the island_

The wound in my leg healed completely in seven days, and I was as right as rain, but that old brute, Dr. Fox, would not let me go off the sick-list.

You can imagine how wild this made me, for I was dreadfully afraid of losing my billet in "No. 3".

The coming of the _Undaunted_ had put new life into everybody, and when Mellins and Dumpling got their orders that night, the wildest rumours went flying round.

I tried my best to make Mellins stow me away in the bows of his picket-boat, but, good chap as he was, he would not hear of it, even though I offered to bring a big home-made cake which had come in the mail.

Poor old Mellins! it _was_ hard for him to refuse.

Just think, then, how I felt when at 4.30 next morning the half-deck sentry woke me with, "Commander wants you, sir, immediate!"

Down I climbed--into my clothes--shoved a cap on my head without brushing my hair, and rushed up on deck.

"Eh! Mr. Glover," the Commander chuckled, as he looked at me over a cup of hot ship's cocoa. "Dr. Fox says you are fit for duty, so be prepared to leave the ship at 5 a.m. to report yourself to Mr. Parker."

Hardly knowing whether I was standing on my head or on my heels for joy, I dived down below and started packing my chest; but I need not have been in such a hurry, for the Commander sent his messenger to tell me to take only what I could carry, so I had to be content with Dumpling's leather bag again. He certainly did have jolly good bags. I managed to shove in most of the cake, after chopping off a big chunk, which I hid in Toddles's locker, and another, which I gave the coxswain of the picket-boat as a surprise for Mellins. I saw him hide it among some oily rags, so I guessed that old Mellins would never find it.

It was simply ripping getting back to "No. 3" again--Mr. Parker, Mr. Chapman the Engineer, and Collins the Sub all jolly pleased to see me, and Pat Jones too. The only thing wanting was Toddles, and I had not the heart to say good-bye to him, but left him snoring in his hammock--he'd had the middle watch.

The Commander came across to "No. 3" with me, and when he was aboard we took the picket-boat and second cutter in tow and steamed slowly inshore towards the island, not straight for the entrance, but some way past the place where the two pirate torpedo-boats had run ashore, making a great sweeping circle in order not to come under fire from the forts. We towed the picket-boat in order to save her coal.

As soon as we were close to the land and beyond that projecting corner of which I have told you, and which hid us from the forts, we cast off the boats, the Commander going away in the cutter and the picket-boat taking her in tow. They went as close inshore as possible, creeping slowly along, away from the entrance, and examining the rocks bit by bit, whilst we kept abreast of them ready to open fire if the Chinese did any rifle-shooting from the cliffs.

It was not particularly exciting work, and as far as we could see from "No. 3", there was not a single place up which a cat could climb. It was not till the afternoon that we saw anything approaching a beach, and even that had perpendicular cliffs behind it covered with brushwood.

They must have been dead tired in the boats, but the Commander still kept at it, standing up in the stern-sheets of the cutter jotting down notes, taking sketches, and reading off angles on his sextant.

Then, however, we got round to the back of the island.

The shore here was low, but too high for us to see over it into the harbour, and just as we caught sight of the little channel running out there, a crowd of ragged ruffians showed up and began peppering away at the boats.

We let into them with our 12-pounder on the bridge, found the range with our second shot, and sent them scurrying like rabbits to cover, followed by a man on a shaggy pony, who cantered slowly after them.

"D' you recognize your friend?" asked Mr. Parker, handing me his telescope. Sure enough, it was the black-bearded man who had fought so splendidly on board that destroyer. I recognized him at once.

"Glad he got safely home," I said.

"I don't think he's got home yet," grinned Mr. Parker. "I don't think he'll find many home comforts in this island. Hurry him up, Jones," turning to the gun's crew, who had ceased firing.

Jones took careful aim, fired, and the shell burst just behind the pony, sending up a cloud of dust and stones. The frightened beast reared and tried to bolt, but the rider calmly quieted it, and, shaking his fist at us, walked it slowly over the crest of the slope.

"That's a fine chap," said Mr. Parker admiringly, and sent me down to his cabin to get him some more tobacco.

Our work for the day was done, and after towing the boats back to the _Laird_ we joined "No. 2", and after dark took up the usual position close to the entrance for the night.

As we towed the cutter back to the ship I could see that Dumpling was wildly excited, and wondered what yarns he would spin in the gun-room that night about his experiences under fire.

The Commander did not return to his ship, but came back to "No. 3" and turned in early, dog-tired--too tired even to smoke or make any funny remarks.

I was not allowed on deck, and slept like a log.

Presently--it seemed only ten minutes afterwards--I was roughly shaken and, half dazed, ordered on deck to get the dinghy into the water. It was very cold, quite dark, and a damp drizzle made everything slippery--as cheerless an outlook as one could imagine.

We got the dinghy out, put a compass into her, and Jones, with the oars wrapped round with cotton-waste to prevent them from making any noise in the rowlocks, took his place in the boat.

Then up came the Commander in his overcoat, and he and I got into her, somebody threw me an oil-skin, and we shoved off into the dark.

I had not the least idea what we were going to do, and, only half awake, felt miserable to a degree.

"Just the morning for it," chuckled the Commander; "a damp mist and a calm sea."

"What are we going to do, sir?" I asked, beginning to wake up, and shivering.

"Right in under the forts, boy. Want you to tell me when we come to the rocks which had those lights on, wait there till it's light enough to see the guns, and slip away again. The tide is flowing strongly now, and will carry us down to the entrance."

"Oh!" was all that I could answer, and felt anything but happy.

Jones was only paddling easily, but for all that we bumped into a rock.

"Get into the bows, Glover, and shove her off," the Commander told me, and I scrambled for'ard. We went on again, keeping along towards the entrance, and occasionally bumping. On the top of one of these rocks was a great sea-bird. It flapped, screeching, into the darkness with a shrill cry of alarm, which I thought would wake the whole island.

How my heart did beat!

It was chilling work, and my teeth were chattering as I leant over the bows, shoving her off any rocks, and trying to find one with a lamp on it. There was a good deal of danger, too, for though the sea was calm, the swell was quite noticeable directly we got close in under the cliffs, and though the boat was a strongly built old tub, her sides once or twice creaked and groaned as they ground up against the rocks.

"Oars," whispered the Commander.

Jones stopped pulling, and I noticed that we did not seem to lose way; in fact, we glided quite rapidly past a great dark mass of boulders.

"We must be near the entrance now; look how we are being set in with the current," said the Commander softly.

"H'st!" he hissed, and we heard the regular noise of oar in rowlock. It was coming towards us, coming from seaward, every moment louder and clearer--ump-ump! ump-ump! backwards and forwards.

"It's a native boat," the Commander whispered; and then, "Back starboard, Jones! Back for your life, man!"

Jones jerked his oar violently in the water, and, oh horrors! the rotten wood cracked, gave way, and the blade fell into the sea as a dark shape went splashing past us, with a little glow amidships as from a red-hot charcoal brazier--enough to show the dim blotch of a man swaying to and fro, grunting loudly at each ump-ump of a long sweep over the stern.

We thought that he must see us or hear the noise of the breaking oar, and remained as still as death, whilst the native--a fisherman probably coming back from raising his traps--disappeared into the darkness.

What were we to do?

We had no spare oar in the boat, and Jones vainly tried to scull with the remaining oar over the stern. He could not even bring her bows round against the current, which we could now hear bubbling and sluicing past the rocks, and when at last we managed to get her round by paddling with the bottom boards, our last oar broke off short, Jones nearly tumbling overboard as it gave way.

In desperation he ripped up another bottom board, and we three paddled as if for dear life. We could see nothing, not even each other's faces, but a cold breeze coming from the island told us that we were already inside the entrance channel, and were being sucked in between the two forts which we had come to spy out. Work how we could--and how it did tire my wrists! with a great deal of noise and splashing, which we expected every moment to raise the alarm--we could not make the least headway.

"Make for the side," came from the Commander.

But we could not even do that. The boat was out of our control, and, spinning round and round in the eddies of the current, was drawn through the dark channel towards the pirates' harbour.

I forgot that I was cold and wet and sleepy at the thought of our horrible position, but do not think I was really frightened, for, somehow or other, one never did feel frightened when the Commander was near (people have often told me the same thing since), and Jones too; I felt that he too would be able to find some way out.

Suddenly ahead of us we saw a ruddy glow outlining the sharp edges of the rocks; we swung round a corner, and then in an instant shot into the glare of a camp-fire on a rock twenty feet above us.

Two Chinamen, one of them leaning on a rifle, were standing by it, warming themselves, and we could hear them talking sleepily to one another.

We were in the shadow of the rocks and whirled past, not one of us moving a muscle or making a sound whilst we watched those sentries and expected to be seen.

It seemed ages as we were sucked in by the current.

At last we were past, and then the motions of the boat became more gentle, and we found ourselves in a kind of back eddy, with all sorts of timber and branches and floating leaves going gently round and round in a circle.

"Now paddle, boys, and don't splash," the Commander whispered, steering as best he could. The light of the fire suddenly disappeared.

"Give way, boys, we're round a corner--out of sight of the sentries."

We got the boat under some control and moved slowly towards the darkest part we could see. We had not the least idea what it would be, but pushed on, my heart going like a steam-hammer.

Presently something swept across my face, catching me a stinging blow. In my excitement and nervousness I had to bite my lips to prevent myself from yelling with fright, and clutched at it.

It was a branch of a tree.

I hauled on it, hand over hand, found my face wetted with damp leaves, and, the others helping, we made out way right in among the branches.

The Commander plunged the boat-hook over the side. "Two feet deep," he said, then knelt down, felt for the bottom plug and pulled it out, and the water came gurgling rapidly through.

In a minute it was up to our ankles, and there we had to stand and weigh the boat down as the water crept up, till gradually it was over our knees. Ugh! How cold it was! But there was nothing else to do if we wanted the boat to sink, and we had to do it.

"Crawl ashore," the Commander whispered, as water began to flow in over the gunwale, and Jones and I climbed along the branches, half in and half out of the water. Jones got to land first, stretched out his great hand and hauled me ashore.

In a moment the Commander joined us.

"Push on inland, boys," he whispered, as calmly as anything, "the boat is all right." And we forced and squeezed our way through the clinging bushes and undergrowth, going in single file and keeping close together so as not to lose one another in the darkness.

Presently we burst through to a clear space, and our feet trod on hard ground.

"A path!" the Commander said, and struck softly across it.

Then we came to more thick bushes and briars, ran up against some stumpy trees with rocks in between them, and found ourselves climbing upwards.

In a minute we had to climb hand over hand, very steep it was, and I thought we should never stop, and the noise we made seemed prodigious.

The light of the camp-fire appeared once again. We halted, and could see the two men still listlessly standing over it. They had not heard us yet, and we scrambled upwards till the light was once more shut out from us.

At last we clambered on to what seemed to be a little ledge among the rocks. I could go no farther, and fell down in a heap.

We lay down on this ledge, huddled close together for warmth, till gradually and slowly the darkness diminished.

First we could distinguish one another's faces and the long grass we were lying in, the thick bushes in front of us, and rock and more bushes behind and on each side.

Gradually we could make out the cold surface of the water below us, and presently, right away over the harbour, some ship struck four bells (six o'clock), another and another repeated, and we could hear the shrill pipes as the hands were turned out,[#] probably on board the pirate cruisers.

[#] Men turned out of their hammocks by the Bos'n's pipe.

From across the water came the throbbing sound of a native gong, one solitary one at first, then two or three more, till it seemed as if hundreds were being beaten, the noise rising and falling till the whole harbour seemed to be filled with it.

Lights flared up as fires were lighted, and we knew that the pirate village was bestirring itself.

As the dawn approached we could realize our position. We were perched on a ledge some sixty feet up the steep face of a rocky uneven cliff, covered with thickset, dwarfed trees and gorse-like bushes, growing wherever they could find foothold.

Beneath us ran the path, along the water's edge, which we had crossed an hour before, and the overhanging tree which concealed the water-logged dinghy, and along whose branches we had scrambled ashore.

"If they don't spot the dinghy or the damage we did clambering up here," chuckled the Commander, "we shall be as safe as in a church, and simply have to lie snug till nightfall."

Then happened what I have recalled since with even more horror than the remainder of that day's dangers, and which absolutely seemed to freeze up the whole of my inside.

It was my own fault, you see, and very nearly placed us all in the most frightful danger.

By pushing aside a tussock of thick grass and looking down I could just see that path, and as it grew light enough to distinguish objects I saw something dark lying in the middle of it, right in the open. It seemed strangely familiar, and involuntarily I put my hand to my head. My cap was missing, and was lying there right in the path, a path well trodden down and evidently much used.

I can never say how I felt then, or how I managed to make myself understood by the Commander--even thinking of it makes me still shiver now, and, scores of times a year, I see that cap in my dreams lying there with its gilt badge just showing bright--but the Commander, with a cheery smile, pressed me down as I tried to rise, wriggled himself over the edge, and commenced climbing down, branches crackling and swaying, and stones sliding down ahead of him.

I kept my eyes glued on that cap, and waited with the greatest anguish to see his arm pushed out from the tall grass at the side of the road. I expected that he would wriggle himself through that and reach across with his arm, but though no arm appeared the cap disappeared, and in a minute I heard him coming up again.

"How did you do it?" I asked him thankfully, as he sank down beside me.

"With a long briar, my son--a prickly creeper which came in very handy."

Even as he spoke a long string of natives (Koreans, the Commander told me) laden with firewood passed in single file along the path. Fancy what would have happened if they had been but five minutes sooner!

They had hardly disappeared from sight as they followed the path, when suddenly a most tremendous banging of guns commenced from the direction of the entrance to the harbour, and, craning our necks round a corner of rook, we could see clouds of powder smoke floating up.

"'No. 3' come in to look for us," muttered the Commander. "I hope Parker will clear out of it before he gets damaged."

We listened, and tried to hear whether any shots were coming from seaward, but could hear none. The firing from the shore slackened, burst out again with fury, died away, and all became quiet once more.

"Parker's got out of range safely," chuckled the Commander.

* * * * *

After that I must have gone to sleep, and I woke up in broad daylight to find myself very hungry and very cold. Jones was lying coiled up in the grass and sound asleep, the Commander was peering through the bushes with his field-glasses and making little sketches in his note-book in front of him. He heard me stir, smiled cheerfully as he broke off a stalk of grass and began chewing it, and handed me his glasses.

"Start away from your right and tell me what you see."

Sliding into a better position, I had a splendid view of the whole harbour. On the extreme right I could see the low ground from which the black-bearded man had shaken his fist at us yesterday, and the narrow channel of water marking the outlet. Sweeping the glasses towards the left, I made out some torpedo-boats moored close together in a little bay.

"How many can you count?" the Commander asked me.

I counted seven. Then came three old-fashioned craft, ship-rigged with their to'-gallants and top-masts struck, whilst anchored all round them was a crowd of junks without a sign of life among them. They all seemed deserted.

"Those are the corvettes missing from the Yangtze Squadron," the Commander explained, excitedly for him, and his enthusiasm made one feel quite cheerful and frightfully excited too.

Still farther along to the left were twelve merchant steamers of all sizes and in no regular order--some mere hulks with no masts or boats, one without a funnel. Others, some four or five, had swarms of people on board, and from the clattering and hammering that came from them they seemed to be under repair. I told the Commander what I thought.

"Yes," he said, "they are altering them so that they can sell them without their old owners being able to recognize them."

Inshore I could see quite a busy little town, with large sheds and wooden warehouses, and hundreds of primitive bamboo-matting huts,--the pirate town, I knew, and you can guess that I forgot all about being hungry.

A rough pier jutted out from it, with a big steamer tied up to the end of it, and even as I looked they were lowering a mast into her with the aid of some tall sheer-legs.

Higher up behind the town were some bungalows--one of them was probably Hopkins's house, I thought--and the whole side of the hill was green with cultivation, the steep slopes terraced out in squares like a chess-board. Above these the hill was too steep for even Chinese to cultivate, and finished off in a flat peak much higher than any other point in the island. We all had noticed this hill from the sea.

Still farther towards the left, and under rather high land, were four cruisers moored head and stern. One I thought was very like the cruiser that had driven off "No. 2" and "No. 3" when we sank the destroyer outside the island.

"That is the _Hong Lu_," the Commander told me when I asked him.

"What guns can you make out?"

It was difficult to see accurately, for she was lying bows on towards us, but she seemed to have a gun about the size of a 6-inch on her fo'c'stle, and three on each side in small sponsons.

"Those other three are the _Yao Yuen_, _Mao Yuen_, and the _Tu Ping_," said the Commander, "and they seem to have all their guns aboard. But what do you make of the funny-looking craft moored right inshore?"

"Why, she's an ironclad, sir," I whispered, "with two turrets!"

"Yes; but has she any guns?"

I looked very carefully but could not see any. From a port in one turret something projected, but only a little way, and it looked ragged at the end.

"No, I don't think so, sir."

"That ship is the old _Ting Yuen_, Glover. They must have raised her from the bottom of Wei-hai-wei harbour, though why on earth they brought her down here if she had no guns fairly beats me."

Close to her were two old friends--the remaining two of the three Patagonians which had caused us so much bother all the way out from Malta, and near them three more torpedo-boats. Huge stacks of coal lined the shore behind them, several more warehouses, and another little pier.

How I did wish that Mellins and Toddles had been with me to see all this! and I forgot altogether that we were in such a helpless plight.

Steam-boats were darting about from one ship to another, and backwards and forwards between the ships and the shore.

Over the little town was a thin cloud of blue smoke, and from what must have been forges or workshops, darker columns of smoke curled upwards into the still air, with here and there a white jet of steam.

They seemed tremendously busy, and the little town fairly hummed with life.

"Carry on to your left and tell me what you see?" the Commander ordered.

First of all the high land, under which the cruisers lay moored, sloped gradually towards the channel through which we had drifted, and then ended abruptly in two terraces, one overlooking the other. A zigzag path cut in the face of the cliff opposite us led up to these terraces, starting from a little landing-place at the water's edge. A steam-boat was lying alongside, having evidently towed a boat-load of stores there, and a long line of coolies were trudging up in pairs with what looked like ammunition boxes suspended between them from bamboo poles across their shoulders. Others were trooping down empty-handed.

Following the zigzag path I made out a gun shield covered with a tarpaulin. That was on the lower platform, and sticking out from the rocks I could see the muzzle of a quick-firer on the upper platform.

"That's one of the forts, sir," I said excitedly.

Below the guns the rocks ran on for thirty or forty yards, and then were hidden behind some higher rocks on our side of the entrance channel. These shut out all view of the sea.

"Now come where I am and look round the corner to the left," said the Commander, rolling out of the way and chuckling to himself with amusement at my excitement. I did as I was told, and, pushing aside some branches, peered down.

The path below us--the path on which my cap had fallen--ran along the foot of the cliffs, along the water's edge, till it came to a little landing-place made of strong balks of timber. Reckoning in cricket pitches--a dodge the Commander had taught me--I thought that it was almost sixty yards away from where our dinghy was sunk.

The landing-place, like the one opposite it, had a small derrick at one corner, with tackle and blocks rigged for lifting weights out of a boat. Broad irregular steps cut in the rock led up from it to a well-cut path which, running sharply upwards, turned round a corner and was lost to sight.

At this corner a little platform, with a parapet all round it, had been levelled, and on it was a small shelter covered with matting.

In front of the shelter was an old oil-drum with its sides pierced with holes, and a little smoke was even now rising gently from it. This was the fire we had seen as we had drifted in.

Against the parapet two or three rifles were leaning.

Down below, with his legs dangling over the landing-place, a Chinaman, in a sort of uniform, was fishing and keeping up a running conversation with the sailors in the steam-boat alongside the opposite jetty.

Tied up to this landing-place were several small boats.

I told the Commander all I had seen, and then he ordered me to make sketches, showed me how to make them fairly accurately, and lent me his pencil.

I had a pocket-book of my own, and worked hard at it for two hours or more, and I think that I was really too frightened of the Commander to worry about our actual danger, for he was furiously angry at my first few attempts.

"I've never done anything like this before, sir."

"What the dickens were you doing in the _Britannia_?" he muttered. "I'll see that you get plenty of practice when we get back to the _Laird_."

"But please, sir, how are we going to get back?" I ventured to ask him presently. He would not answer me--only chuckled.

Every now and again the man who was fishing would be joined by some comrades, who were apparently on duty as sentries, for presently another steam-launch came swiftly from the town and ran alongside the landing-stage. The fisherman dropped his line and stood to attention; his chums ran up the steps, seized their rifles, and presented arms, whilst two Europeans stepped ashore.

One was the man with the black beard, the second was none other than Hopkins, and you can imagine how excited I was, for I could have hit them with a stone, they were so near, and I could hear Hopkins laughing merrily as he spun some yarn.

They climbed the steps, passed the sentries, and disappeared round the corner.

In about half an hour they came back and crossed to the other jetty. Here they were met by a third European, and all three walked up towards the fort, the coolies making way for them.

They did not stay long there. Hopkins and the black-bearded man came slowly down the zigzag path, jumped into the steam-boat, shoved off, and steamed towards the _Hong Lu_.

We followed them intently, and I noticed that they both kept looking up towards the top of the hill, behind the town, which I have told you was the highest point on the island. They seemed extremely interested in something there, and even stopped the boat and gazed steadily up at it through field-glasses.

They were evidently satisfied, went on again, and we saw them run alongside the _Hong Lu_ and climb up her accommodation-ladder.

The Commander had watched them carefully through his glasses, and now I saw him earnestly searching the top of that hill.

"That explains it all," he muttered to himself, and passed them across to me. "Look under those trees."

I could see nothing at first except a great broad track running up the side as if some heavy weights had been roughly hauled up it, but looking more closely under the trees I saw crowds of Chinese working like ants, then I made out the bend of a derrick, like a single boat's davit, showing up against the sky-line.

With this to guide me, and looking very carefully, I made out a great tarpaulin or canvas, covering something. It was a huge gun.

"Now I know why they fished up the old _Ting Yuen_," said the Commander, "and why she has no guns. They've managed to mount one of her 12-inch guns on top of that hill, and there is another on the beach close alongside her waiting to go up too, if I am not mistaken.

"My aunt," he chuckled, "how proud our sappers and gunners would be with a job like that!"

He seemed perfectly cheerful, and chuckled merrily to himself, though, for my part, I only thought that that big gun up there made it all the more impossible to capture the island, and that lying, as we were, right in the middle of the pirate harbour on a little ledge of rock not a hundred yards away from the sentries, with no chance, as far as I could see, of escaping, was not particularly funny.

I was simply frightfully hungry and fearfully thirsty. I had sucked grass and licked wet leaves till I was nearly sick. My legs and body were so stiff that it pained me even to roll over, ever so gently, and the sun was not warm enough to dry me properly. Jones was still sound asleep, and the Commander began making more sketches of the top of the hill, peering hard through his glasses, then adding a little to the drawing, and correcting the measurements by holding the pencil up against his eyes and moving his thumb along it. He was strangely elated.

A steam hooter sounded in the town, the clatter and hammering died away, the coolies working in the ships were taken ashore, the sentries cooked their dinner in the hot brazier, and everything became still and quiet except the pain inside me.

I felt hungry and miserable and longed for the _Laird's_ gun-room fire, and knew they were just beginning lunch aboard, and probably having a good rough-and-tumble fight.

"Pull your belt in, youngster, and buck up," said the Commander cheerily.

"Please, sir, I hav'n't got a belt."

"Well, get a big stone and lie on it."

That did relieve the pain a little.

"We've got eight or nine hours of it, youngster. Move your legs about every now and again to keep them from getting cramp."

Presently he asked me what plans I had made, and really I got quite excited in working out different schemes, and he was so jolly about it and never snubbed me that I forgot to be miserable for quite a long time.

Every now and again we stopped even whispering, whilst some Koreans straggled along the path beneath us, going to or coming from the fort.

At first we were in a horrible funk lest they should see the broken-down bushes and trampled grass, or even the sunken dinghy; but they were much too self-absorbed to notice anything, and gradually we left off fearing that they would discover us.

It seemed pretty evident that none of the Chinese lived anywhere near us, for not one passed during the whole day.

Then we talked of England, and somehow or other I mentioned Fareham.

"That is where your cousin lives, is it not?" he asked.

"Milly? Why, do you know old Milly?" I said.

"Well, just slightly." (I had a faint suspicion that he looked a little red in the face.) "I met her at a dance in Southsea. Don't go often to that kind of thing--make an awful mess of dancing, Glover, so generally stay away--but I had to go to this one, and met your cousin. Had one or two dances with her."

"Isn't she a perfect ripper?"

"She was extremely forbearing with me," he smiled, "and when I trod on her toes did not seem to mind a little bit."

"I should not be here if it had not been for her," I told the Commander.

"I rather think she got her father the Admiral to put in a good word for me too," he replied.

"Do you really?" I said, and remembered that Mr. Pattison had told me the same.

"She asked me to keep an eye on you and give you a leg up whenever I could. That is why I got you off the sick-list yesterday."

"What did Dr. Fox say when you asked him, sir?"

"Curse the boy! take him away and drown him for all I care."

"What a brute he is!" I said, rather forgetting myself, and wanting to bite my tongue off directly I had said it.

"He's the most kind-hearted man on board the _Laird_, Glover, and don't you forget it," the Commander answered severely.

I felt snubbed, and knew that I deserved it.

* * * * *

The steam hooter sounded again, but the coolies were not taken back to the ships; they seemed to be all collected round one of the sheds, and were making a great clamour. Something unusual seemed to be going on, but we could not make out what.