Part 12

Hoffman had for years owned quite a small fleet of merchant steamers, and had endeavoured to compete with the native junks for the coastal trade between Ningpo, Shanghai, and the Chusan Archipelago. Local prejudice and the hatred of the white foreigner had been too much for him, and he had failed. The idea then occurred to him that if he could make a clean sweep of the merchant junks throughout the islands, he would have the monopoly of the carrying trade.

"That explains why we have seen so many small steamers about lately," I burst out, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Umph! It does," the Skipper nodded, and went on to tell how Hoffman had built and armed a fleet of large junks, and carried out the raids of which we knew so well.

"But what’s he doing now?" I exclaimed. "Coming on board here half starved?"

The Skipper explained. "That rascally skipper of the yacht was his first lieutenant. It was he who did most of the work, headed most of the expeditions, and thought himself as big a ’pot’ as his master. He thought he would strike out a new line for himself, too, and kidnapped Hobbs and Sally. Thought he’d get enough ransom to make his ’pile’ in one swoop."

The Skipper went on to tell me that this wasn’t Hoffman’s idea of doing business, and that it was owing to him that they escaped, that time they were picked up by the _Huan Min_. It meant finally breaking with the Englishman, and (Hobbs told us, I remember, that he had heard a scuffle that night) they actually had come to blows, Hobbs and his daughter being shoved off alone in the boat during the confusion.

Next morning Hoffman had found himself practically a prisoner. Nearly the whole of the Chinese sided with the good-looking scoundrel, who had so often led them on their forays, and the German had to clear out, and was lucky to find a junk whose crew remained faithful to him. That is how he first came to Tinghai, and it was there that he saw Hobbs and his daughter for the first time. The girl reminded him of his wife, or daughter, at home in Germany. He hadn’t seen either of them for twenty years, and the daughter would have been about her age. At any rate, whatever it was that made him take such a fancy to her, he wasn’t going to let her fall into that chap’s hands again. Directly he had heard of the raid at the Tu Pu Monastery, he had gone across to endeavour to regain his influence over his men, found that impossible, but learnt that they were going to raid Tinghai itself and kidnap Hobbs and the girl again. He had come back in his junk as fast as he could, but too late to save her.

That accounted, then, for his sudden appearance at the burning Mission. He had landed in the same bay as the pirates themselves, an hour or more behind them, and rushed up to the Mission, but too late to save her.

"Travers says that he saw two boats there, sir. Probably those were the two close together, and probably Hoffman’s made that third mark we saw farther along the shore."

"Dare say it was," the Skipper grunted; "and he tells me, too, that he got away about half an hour after they had left."

"Trevelyan is a regular Sherlock Holmes," I said. "I must tell him; he’ll be very pleased."

But the Skipper scowled and growled, "No, no; I don’t want anyone to know yet;" and went on with his yarn, whilst I listened, wideawake enough, you may be sure, although it was past two in the morning.

"Hoffman thought that the people at his dépôt in the Chung-li Tao Group would still stand by him, so packed off there," the Skipper went on to tell me, "and found the old Scotch engineer in charge of the place. It was this man who had separated him and the Englishman—that night they fought. He was a friend of his, and gave up the place and the junks; and everything was going well, till one morning the Englishman appeared off the town, fired a few rounds from the tramp steamer, the junks’ crews wouldn’t fight, and Hoffman had to surrender. He was eventually taken to the Hector Group, and kept there till he managed to escape to us again."

"Travers heard some fighting, but never saw Hoffman," I interrupted.

"Well, Hoffman was hardly likely to give himself away by interviewing him. At any rate, that was the reason he gave me when I asked him," the Skipper said. "He was waiting until he felt more sure of his people before trying to get him away—he couldn’t trust any of them—and the chance never came."

"By the way, sir," I said, suddenly remembering that he had not come back, "where is he now?"

"Umph! I left him and one of his Chinese fellows in the boats. They’re going to try and get ashore to-night at low water, find their way across the mud, and see if Sally and Old Hobbs are still there. The boats are to wait for them for half an hour after daybreak. If Hoffman and his man don’t turn up then, the boats have to come back to the ship, and I’ve told him I’ll have another waiting at the back of the island for him. There’s a big rock somewhere there—can’t mistake it, he says—and I want you to send a boat round there in case he can’t get back this side."

"He’s not strong enough for much hard work, I fear, sir," I said.

"’Fraid not, Truscott; ’fraid not."

"Whenever did you know all about this, sir?" I asked. I was a little nettled that I hadn’t been told before.

"Only this morning," the Skipper replied; he was lighting his third cigar since coming back. "Only this mornin’—couldn’t keep it to himself any longer—came and told me. Umph!" (I suppose that he saw I looked as if I might have been told too) "I’d have told you then, Truscott, but I wasn’t certain of him till to-night, and wasn’t going to let you think ’Old Lest’ had had his leg pulled again, if he turned out a wrong ’un."

"What happened to-night, then, sir?" I asked.

"Directly they saw us coming along, the yacht began to push inland—close up to the town, up a bit of a creek—and just as it was getting dark, we saw the tramp steamer trying to do the same. I wanted to shove along after them, but he wouldn’t let me, said we should have to pass within twenty yards of a battery, and they had had plenty of time to man the guns. He said it didn’t matter either, as the tramp couldn’t get up there, and would be aground before she’d gone fifty yards. He promised to find her, too, later on, and I took him at his word. They blazed off a few rounds at us, I kept ’em busy for a few minutes, and then lay off, out of sight, as if I’d gone back again."

"I didn’t know what had happened, sir, when I could neither hear nor see anything of you. I was in a bit of a ’stew’ when you didn’t come back.

"I wanted to go and torpedo her, but he wouldn’t let me. Said she’d be half out of water in another two hours, and he’d do the job then, without getting into danger."

"He did, too; guided us in—how he did it, beats me—somehow or other got her in between us and the battery, and we let rip a torpedo right into her bottom, just amidship. We weren’t fifty yards away, and not a soul saw us till we’d fired. I tell you, Truscott, that man’s straight. ’Old Lest’ don’t often make a mistake when he’s sized a man up and seen him under fire. He’s as straight as a die. It was his own steamer he blew up."

"Well, he’s the first man’s advice you’ve ever listened to, sir," I said, smiling.

"Umph!" he growled, "but ’mum’s’ the word;" and he patted old Blucher, who was squatting between his knees and yawning.

"If he can’t get back to that cutter—and I don’t know how the dickens he means to do so—he’ll go across to the back of the island."

"What boat shall I send, sir?" I asked, getting up, for it was time to be off; it was nearly three in the morning.

"Send the other cutter, and Trevelyan; I believe in that chap," he growled. "Umph! You are going to turn in, eh? Umph! All right! I’ll write home to the Missus and the Admiral. Don’t know when I can send ’em. Umph!"

"Have you read Rashleigh’s report?" he asked me, as I was going out. "I’ve read it again. He don’t say much about Trevelyan and Ford."

"No, he doesn’t, sir; and I’ve heard their accounts. They throw rather a fresh light on the loss of the two junks. Well, perhaps not quite that, but they seem to have done better than we thought."

"Umph! Good night! Tell ’em to send their reports to me—to write ’em."

I left him lighting a fresh cigar—a marvellous old chap he was—and warned Trevelyan and his boat’s crew before I turned in myself.

On deck they had seen nothing of the two boats, still remaining inshore, and I felt extremely sorry for the drowned rats in them.

*CHAPTER X*

*The Vigilant under Fire*

A Foolhardy Undertaking—"Who’s Captain?"—Mr. Trevelyan Returns—Taking Precautions—The Skipper’s Plans—A Ticklish Job—The Commander’s Show—The Skipper’s Few Words

_Written by Commander Truscott_

I sent Trevelyan away an hour before sunrise, and told him where to lie off and wait for any sign of Hoffman and the Chinaman—they were to wave a piece of red bunting—and then turned in for another forty winks, and was called as it grew light. I went up to the fore bridge and found the Skipper already there. He was smoking, even at this hour, and looked as fresh as paint, although he probably had had no sleep at all.

Hardly had I reached the bridge before we heard guns firing again, strained our eyes to see what was happening, and presently saw the steam boat puffing towards us, with the second cutter in tow.

"Get their breakfasts ready for ’em, Truscott; they’ll want ’em, and ’Old Lest’ wants his too;" and he went down below.

In twenty minutes the boats ran alongside, and pretty well worn out all the people were. Hoffman was the first to come aboard. I have never seen such a dirty object in my life. He was covered with mud from head to foot; even his face and hair were caked with it. He looked terribly exhausted. I felt a strange feeling of curiosity in speaking to him, now that I had learnt his history and the part he had played in shaping the events of the last two months. "Found out whether they are still there?" I asked him anxiously; but he shook his head, "Couldn’t do it; too weak, Commander; had to give it up."

The Captain coming up then, took him down below.

"Brought back the steam cutter and the second cutter, sir," Whitmore reported. "I waited as long as I could, but that Chinaman never came back, and I daren’t stay any longer, sir, as they began to plank shots all round us."

"What happened to Hoffman?" I asked. "He looks as if he had had a bad time."

Then Whitmore told me that Hoffman and his Chinaman had tried to get across the mud flats at low water, and find their way ashore in the dark. It was a foolhardy undertaking, because Hoffman was evidently not strong enough; but they lashed flat pieces of wood to their boots. Whitmore ran the cutter’s bows into the mud, and they had crawled overboard and soon disappeared.

Whitmore backed the cutter into deep water and waited for them to return, and in about half an hour had heard a cry coming out of the darkness and had answered it, and rammed the boat into the mud again. Presently Hoffman came stumbling back, falling and scrambling to his feet, and floundering through the mud. He had lost one of his flat pieces of wood, and was unable to reach the shore. Sending on his Chinaman, he had tried to retrace his steps, and had had an awful time before he heard their hail. He only just had sufficient strength to get back to the boat, and had to be hauled in.

"That Chinaman didn’t come back at daylight, sir. I don’t know how he intended to do so, but, at any rate, we saw nothing of him."

I told him that Trevelyan had gone round to the back of the island, in case he tried to get off there.

"I hope you don’t think I shoved off too soon, sir?" Whitmore asked me anxiously. "We were very nearly hit several times—as it was."

"My dear chap, of course not. Go down, have a hot bath and some food; you look as though you wanted both pretty badly. You’ve not had much of a time, I should fancy."

"I’ve never spent such a night in my life," Whitmore said, and I could quite believe him.

"That steamer is as safe as ’eggs’, sir. She’s right over on her side," he called out as he went below.

That was one thing accomplished satisfactorily.

As it turned out, he might have waited for that Chinaman till he was blue in the face—well, hardly that, for he was already blue in the face, but till he’d been sunk—because the Chinaman came off with Trevelyan a couple of hours later.

The Skipper was waiting for his return before making any plans; but long before that, something occurred which thoroughly upset him.

We were all at breakfast, when suddenly we heard the distant report of a heavy gun, and through the open scuttles could hear the "swish, swish" of a shell. Everyone jumped up and rushed on deck, the gunroom people clattering up behind us. "They’ve fired a gun at us, sir," the midshipman of the watch told me. "It went right between the masts and fell over there, sir," and he pointed to where you could still see the spray of the splash, just drifting to leeward, about four hundred yards away. "Don’t think it was a shell, sir; no one heard it burst." He was extremely nervous and excited, twitching all over.

The Skipper came up his ladder, red in the face and indignant, and as he stepped on the quarterdeck there was a shout from for’ard, "They’ve fired again, sir!"

Several people sang out, "Can see it, sir, coming straight this way, sir!" a spout of water leaped into the air, and, "whizzle, whizzle"—with that funny whistling, whispering noise only a ricochetting projectile makes—it passed overhead, and fell close to where the first had fallen.

It was rather amusing to watch how our people "took it". One officer, whose name wild horses shouldn’t drag out of me, threw himself flat down on deck, several tried to get behind each other, and most of them looked as if they were—well—thrown off their "balance". But you should have seen the Skipper. He stood there, with one foot on the quarterdeck. His mouth was wide open, his face was absolutely crimson, his eyes stood out of his head like lobsters’ eyes, and his neck was so swollen that it was a purple colour, and even from where I stood I could see the veins standing out. He actually couldn’t speak, he was in such a frightful rage.

"Close water-tight doors," I sang out, and "steam on the capstan," not knowing what else to do, and then went up to the Captain.

"Who’s captain aboard this ship?" he managed to bring out; "Old Lest or you?"

Then, pausing to take breath, he roared: "What the—the—Jerusalem d’you mean by ordering steam on the capstan? D’you think ’Old Lest’ is going to get up anchor, and move off, because a lousy Chinaman fires a gun at him? Umph! What’s the range?"

"About eight thousand yards, sir."

"Well, he won’t hit us," he growled, and with his field glasses slung round his bull neck, he commenced tramping up and down, scowling to left and right, as everyone hurriedly cleared over to the port side to get out of his way.

Two more shot—they certainly were not shell—came along presently, one after another. They were both a long way short, and ricochetted overhead like express trains. He never turned his head to look at them, but roared for me. "See those darned youngsters leanin’ up against the quarterdeck rails! See ’em—loafin’ on my quarterdeck! Give ’em half an hour’s extra drill in the morning, and send them up to the masthead. I’ll teach ’em to loaf."

I wanted to suggest clearing for "action", going to "General Quarters", and sending them a few rounds to quiet that gun, for a lucky shot of theirs might do a lot of damage, and they must get the range before long; but, to tell you the truth, I hadn’t the courage to do so.

"I’ll teach ’em to loaf," he growled again. "Sound off ’Divisions’."

The buglers rather nervously sounded off, and the men began "falling in". Pretty nervous they were, most of them, especially those with their backs turned to the shore; but they knew that this was "Old Lest’s" way of "showing off", and I could see them winking at one another and grinning.

That was a "Divisions" with a vengeance. It usually lasted ten minutes, but this morning the Skipper, glaring and snorting, went round each "division" himself, stalking along and finding fault if a cap ribbon wasn’t put on correctly, or any small detail of the men’s uniform wasn’t exactly to his liking; and there was no blinking or shrinking—the men simply dare not—whenever another boom was heard, and another shot came whistling past.

When he had at last finished, the men were all marched aft on the quarterdeck, and the young Padré, pale and nervous, and with half an eye for the shore, read prayers, making many mistakes, at which the Skipper growled like a bull dog. I’m certain that one of those projectiles passed not ten feet above us all, and it fell into the water not twenty yards the other side; but not a scrap of notice did the Skipper take, and presently they left off firing altogether, much to our relief. Then he growled out, "Umph! I said so," and went below.

In the middle of all this Trevelyan was sighted coming back round the corner from the other side of the island, and as soon as he came alongside, I saw that he had the Chinaman on board, and looked happy. "I’ve got him, sir, and from what I can make out, Hobbs and Sally are there all right. A lot of those shot have been pretty close, sir; I’ve been watching them all the way off. I wondered why you didn’t fire back."

"Ask the Captain," I said, and took the Chinaman down to Hoffman’s cabin, where the Skipper joined us, and we soon learnt the good news. He had not been able to communicate with them, but they were both safe, and were kept well guarded in an old house, with a high wall round it, just at the back of the town. It was on a little rising ground, and we thought we could actually make it out from the ship through our big telescope.

The man had heard that Evans—that was the name of the rascally Englishman—was laid up with fever. The town, he said, was in an uproar. Hoffman told us that he was always going down with fever, which generally lasted for four or five days, and that probably a Swede, named Jorgensen, was running the show. "It’s a six-inch modern gun that they’ve got there," he said, "but they haven’t much ammunition, and no shell at all for it; and it’s just the mad, silly thing he would do, to go easing it off at this long range."

Hoffman kept on imploring us to prevent Hobbs and Sally being taken off somewhere again. He felt sure that Evans would try to do so, and told us that plenty of junks were always lying in the creeks at the back of the island, and could get away in half an hour, with the wind as it was now blowing.

"Directly he is well enough he’ll be off, and take them with him. He doesn’t care a straw about anything else, so long as he can force Sally to marry him, and bleed the old father. He won’t wait for you to come and try to capture them, you may be certain of that." Hoffman was so earnest, that he made us realize the danger of the poor little girl being once more spirited away by that unscrupulous villain, and how very urgent was the necessity of losing no time in preventing this, at all costs.

The breeze was still blowing dead on shore, so that we were fairly certain that no junks could hope to beat out from this side and escape. The steam yacht dare not come out during the day, and as he had done last night, so the Skipper intended doing every night—leave a boat lying almost in the creek itself to signal directly she attempted to move. Till the arrival of the gunboats, we had nothing but the ship’s boats to send round to the back of the island to patrol; and the Skipper was so impressed with Hoffman’s earnestness, that he gave me orders to "man and arm" the sailing pinnace, the sailing launch, and the steam pinnace for this purpose. I had done this, and they were, in fact, just going to shove off, when they reported that the _Ringdove_ was in sight.

The Captain belayed the boats and ordered Rashleigh round there instead. He had signalled, as he drew near, that he had found the pirate dépôt deserted, and not a junk of any sort or description to be seen, and had therefore come along here at his utmost speed. Whatever demerits Rashleigh may have had as a writer of despatches, he certainly could not have turned up at a more opportune moment, and we all felt grateful to him. I had forgotten to order Trevelyan and Ford to send in their own reports concerning the loss of their junks, but the arrival of the _Ringdove_ reminded me of the Captain’s order, and I sent for them. They were both very bitter about the way in which Rashleigh had reported on them, and I heard Ford say to Trevelyan as they went away, "I’ll write a snorter, sir." As the reports had to go through my hands before the Skipper saw them, I knew that I should be able to "tone" them down if necessary, so said nothing at the time.

The Captain was in great good humour now, and had forgotten all about the firing and his morning’s wrath. "Hoffman tells me," he said, "that there are about a thousand men ashore; got plenty of rifles, too, and ammunition, and will probably put up a good fight. So long as Hobbs and Sally are safe, ’Old Lest’ ain’t going to be hurried for nobody, and he’s going to wait till the other gunboats come along. Can’t do any more by myself, Truscott."

Hoffman himself was down with fever, and, old Mayhew told me, was pretty bad. I met him coming out of the cabin, and he held up a thermometer for me to look at. I couldn’t get the hang of it myself, but he told me it marked 104 degrees.

"Get him on his legs again as soon as you can, old chap," I said; but Mayhew shrugged his shoulders, and he and Barclay went away together to yarn about him. Thank goodness the other wounded people, young Morton included, were doing well.

We took every precaution to prevent anything escaping that night, and sent in both Hoffman’s Chinamen, with a couple of Very’s lights apiece, with orders to try and find out if any attempt was made to move Hobbs or his daughter, and to fire them, down at the water’s edge, if any such attempt was made.

They were evil enough looking fellows, but Hoffman swore that they were to be trusted, so we had to trust them.

The night passed quietly, and early next morning the _Goldfinch_ and the _Omaha_ arrived. The latter was at once sent round to assist the _Ringdove_ at the back of the island, as her searchlight was much more powerful than the _Ringdove’s_, and she would therefore be more useful there than on this side of the island.

In the afternoon the _Sparrow_ also came along. They all reported that the _Huan Min_ had rounded them up, and we felt very kindly disposed towards the melancholic Chinese Captain, and Lawrence’s chum, Ching, and hoped they would bring the _Huan Min_ along to share our adventures. The _Sparrow_ and _Goldfinch_ had left their junks behind, and brought the crews and guns and stores along with them, so that, I am glad to say, we had all our people aboard once more.

We felt now that it would be impossible for anything to escape from the island, and our feelings were much relieved. In fact, I think everyone felt sure now that it would only be a matter of a few days before the pretty little girl and her old father would be safe and sound on board; and all day long there was a constant stream of people going up to the fore bridge and looking through the big telescope to "spot" the house where they were imprisoned.