Part 15

I think that the Commander and he wanted them to come very badly, and I didn’t mind either, because I wasn’t so cold now, and the flames lighted the place all round grandly.

They walked all round the lighted-up part, and decided that the best position for the men would be standing on the shore of the battery wall, firing over that, and for some men to stand on the beach, farther along, at each end, and fire over the bank which we all had to climb over. We couldn’t hear a sound of Mr. Whitmore’s party; but there was another strange noise like the quacking of thousands of ducks—you could hear it even with the flames roaring and crackling and the dogs barking.

"Whatever is it, sir?" Wilkins asked me; but I didn’t know, and asked Dr. Barclay.

"Bull frogs, down in the paddy fields below the six-inch gun," he told me, and I didn’t say any more, because I thought that he was pulling my leg.

A few minutes afterwards, the Commander and Captain Marshall and Dr. Barclay all went along past the huts—they were having a look round—and Wilkins and myself followed behind them. The flames were between us and the sea, and suddenly something whistled past me, and I jerked my head round, and then there was the noise of a rifle going off—and another—and another, and flick—flick—flick—flick, the bullets went whizzing past us.

I put my hands up to keep them off.

*CHAPTER XII*

*Midshipman Ford on his Mettle*

Ford Sees Red—Close Fighting—"Where are we?"—Comparing Notes—A Strange Reception—The Captain’s Letter—The Chinese Doctor—Investigating—The Mob Attacks—To the Rescue

_Written by Midshipman Ford_

Directly they started firing we all ran back to the huts, because we were in between the Chinese and the flames, and of course made splendid targets.

Captain Marshall sang out, "Run, Ford, run!" and I did, and jolly fast too; but he and the Commander and Wilkins, the bugler boy, only came along at a jog trot, and "miles" behind me, and Captain Marshall was "hee-hawing" as if he had never seen anything so funny before in his life. He asked me whether I had done the hundred yards in ten seconds, or some rot like that, and before all the men, too, which made me get very red and simply furious. It was all his fault for shouting out "run", and with those bullets kicking up the ground and flying past, I jolly well couldn’t stop myself when once I had started. I don’t think anyone could. Do you? I caught Wilkins grinning, and this made me more angry still.

"Don’t you worry; it was only Marshall’s joke," the Commander said. He meant to be nice, but I knew that he thought I ought not to have run, and I simply hated myself.

I was so mad at being such a coward, that I think I would have run straight at them if they had gone on shooting, just to show the men that I could run just as fast that way; but they had left off, and were only shouting at us from the darkness behind the huts. I felt most horrid, and wondered what the Captain would think when Captain Marshall told him. I knew that he would tell him—"hee-hawing" like a grampus, and thinking it a tremendous joke.

"May I take six men out there, sir, out to the right, creep round in the dark, and see if I can find them? Do let me, sir!" I blurted out, almost before I thought of it.

He looked at me very grimly, and must have seen that there was something the matter (there was, very much the matter—everything inside me was working), thought a few moments, smiled at me, and said: "Right you are, if you can get volunteers. Don’t go far, and come back when I sound the ’close’."

Get volunteers! Why, they all would have come, and I just took the six nearest, I didn’t really care who they were, or if none of them came, I was so mad, and we dropped over the battery wall, and then behind the bank to the beach, and crept along in its shadows. I could just see the water jacket of the Maxim in the bows of the barge lighted up by the flames, and they must have seen our shadows and thought we were Chinamen, because I heard Withers sing out some order, and if I hadn’t given the gunroom "whistle", I do believe he might have tried to shoot us. We crept along till we were clear of the firelight, and then I told the marines what I was going to do, extended them to three paces, and started to make inland. I knew pretty well where those rifles had fired—I’d seen the flashes—and I didn’t think that there were more than seven or eight altogether, and meant to get behind them, get the Chinamen between me and the fire, and try and bag one or two.

I don’t believe anything would have frightened me. That silly "hee-haw" of Captain Marshall, and thinking of running back so fast, simply shoved me along. I wasn’t going to let that story get to the Captain and to Mrs. Lester, and my mother and Nan, and all over Upton Overy, without something else tacked on to it.

We crept up to a deserted hut, made a great noise breaking our way through a fence behind it, and were bothered by a lot of beastly dogs rushing at us, till I gave one of them a jolly good "welt" in the head with my boot, and they all ran off yelping. We went scrambling over rough ground, and stumbling over what seemed like heaps of broken crockery, and then we came to a ditch. I was so "mad" angry, that I simply slid straight down into it, and had to swim one or two strokes, and nearly got my feet caught up by weeds; but I didn’t care in the least, and only worried lest my revolver cartridges were not water-tight.

Two of the men wouldn’t face it, and went along the side to find an easier place, and I never saw them again. At the other side there was a high mud wall, and we skirted along it till it came to an end, and then we suddenly turned a corner and came upon four or five men standing watching the flames. They yelled and fled, and we went after them as hard as we could go; but they were running away from the flames, and were not the men we wanted, so I pulled up, and waited till the marines had got their breath. Right away inland we could hear a lot of rifle-firing and then some volleys.

"That’s the Gunnery Lootenant an’ ’is little lot, sir," one of the men whispered, and I recognized his voice. It was Martin, one of the sentries in the gunroom "flat". We used to plague the life out of him.

We couldn’t see the flames now, only a few sparks rushing up, and thought that the fires must be dying down; but I felt certain that we were right behind them, and that those brutes who had made me run must be close to us now.

I don’t quite know why—it may have been because we couldn’t see the flames, or because I was wet through and cold again, or because we could hear people running about near us in the dark, without being able to see them—but I forgot all about being so brave, and felt frightened, and was jolly glad when I heard the bugle sound the "close". I wasn’t certain which way to go, for I funked that ditch, and didn’t think we could have found our way back there. Whatever it was, we found ourselves going straight towards the sparks, came up against another wall, turned round the end of it, and then found that that was what had prevented us seeing the flames. They were still making a great light, and in between them and us there was a crowd of Chinamen. We could see their heads showing like black discs, and they were all jabbering together, with their backs to us.

I don’t know who started—I didn’t—but we all began shouting and charging down at them. They had just time to turn round before we were on top of them. The men let off their rifles, and I pulled the trigger of my revolver, and haven’t the least idea whether it went off or not. They must have thought that all the demons in the world were after them, for they opened out and let us through; but directly we had rushed past and came into the light, they saw that we were only five, and came howling after us. Right in front of me a man jumped up with a rifle and let it off almost in my face. He didn’t touch me, but probably hit some of his own people, and before he could fire again I had hold of the barrel with one hand, and was banging him in the face with my revolver, though that didn’t seem to hurt him. He was just going to pull the rifle out of my hands, when I heard Martin curse and swing his rifle down on his head, and he fell so suddenly that I fell on top of him.

Before I could get up again, someone had thrown himself on top of me, and began clawing hold of my windpipe. I felt my ears beginning to sing; but then he gave a gurgle and a squirm, and his fingers loosened, and as I crawled out I saw Martin trying to pull his bayonet out of him, holding him down with his foot whilst he tugged at the rifle. Before he could get it out, a huge fellow sprang at him with his rifle clubbed. I sang out, and he just managed to turn his head in time, but got an awful blow on his shoulder which knocked him over. The man jumped at him again, but one of the other three marines was on him in a moment, struck at him with his bayonet, and caught him just under the armpit. There was a frightful yell and he fell, and I seized his rifle, pointed it at the crowd, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Hardly knowing what I did, I shot the bolt backwards and forwards and pulled again. The magazine must have been loaded, for it went off then and hit a brute who was running at me, somewhere in the leg. I know that it hit him there, because he stumbled, and sat holding on to it, and I quite well remember thinking that it served him jolly well right. The other three marines were close to me, and Martin scrambled to his feet, trying to twist his bayonet off his rifle to use as a dagger, because one arm was useless. The others were jabbing with their bayonets, springing out, thrusting, and springing back again, and parrying and trying to keep a circle clear. One of them (Tuck) threw up his arms and fell face downwards. I saw his fingers dig into the earth. Then something struck me on the left arm, just as if it had been struck by a wooden hammer, and the Chinaman’s rifle fell out of my hands. I stooped down to pick it up, but couldn’t—I remember that perfectly.

* * * * *

I don’t remember anything more till I woke with a splitting headache, feeling as if I wanted to be sick and couldn’t be. It was almost dark. I thought that I’d had a nightmare—I often did, after too much gunroom tinned salmon—and wondered why the lanterns had gone out. You know how you often wake up and think that you are in some strange place, and gradually work things out till they come right again.

That’s what I tried to do, but I couldn’t fix things, and one eye didn’t seem to work, and I wondered why I had my boots and my uniform on, and why it was all so wet. I put out my arm to feel if Jim’s hammock was in its place, and then I let out a yell and rolled back pretty quickly.

That yell seemed to blow away the cobwebs, and I lay back and began to make out that I was lying on a funny kind of floor, in a small room with whitewashed walls and a broken-down roof, with straw hanging through the cracks. The walls seemed to be made of bricks and mud, and one had a door in it and a small square opening above it, through which a little light came. Someone close to me began to move, and then sat up, very slowly. It was Martin, the gunroom "flat" sentry, and then I remembered that he had saved me from being choked, and all the things that had happened came back to me all at once.

"Where are we?" I asked.

He gave me a startled look. "Crickey, sir, beggin’ your pardon, you does look a awful sight!"

"What’s the matter? What’s happened?" I felt that it was awkward to talk, my lips felt uncomfortable, and I put my hand up to my face and it felt all raw and swollen. I couldn’t see at all if I shut my right eye, so knew that my left one was closed up.

"Kicked you in the face, sir, and dragged you away afore we could stop ’em."

"What!" I said, very alarmed. "The Commander not here? Where am I?"

"I don’t exactly know where we be, sir, but them pirate chaps ’ave got ’old of us, and Old Tinker Bill too; ’e was brought in ’ere after us."

Then I saw that there was a bluejacket lying asleep on the other side of him, and he dug him in the ribs—"’Ere, wake up, Tinker!" and he sat up growling.

I saw that it was Miller, one of the armourers, and I remembered that he had gone with Mr. Whitmore’s party, and I forgot all about worrying about where we were for a second.

"Did we smash that gun?" I cried, and tried to sit up in my excitement, but fell back again pretty quickly—my left arm was so painful every time I tried to move.

Miller yawned and shook his head dolefully: "We never got nowhere near it, sir. Jerusalem!" he gasped, "you do look a fair ’knock-out’, sir, that you does."

"Well, tell me. What happened? Did Mr. Rawlings get hurt?"

Then he told me that Mr. Hoffman had guided them all right, but they made a goodish deal of noise themselves, and our party (the Commander’s party) had given the alarm too soon, and they simply found themselves running into hundreds of Chinese, and had to fall back again.

"You see, sir, it was like this. We went along all right till those huts began a burnin’, but the light from ’em just gave the show away, and let ’em see where to fire. Mr. Rawlings was knocked over, an’ a lot more, sir, an’ the last as I seed of ’em was going back, very slow, a-carryin’ some people, an’ stoppin’ and firin’ back—occasional."

And all the time we had thought how jolly comforting those flames were, and that they might help them to find their way back. I tried to get more from him about Jim, but he didn’t know any more, except that there had been a lot of firing, and he had seen him fall, and two men lift him up. But that was enough to make me feel frightfully sad, though I didn’t really seem to imagine that it was all quite real; and the pain in my head was so bad, and my arm was so painful, and I was so stiff and cold and cramped all over, that nothing could make me much more miserable, not even knowing that we had been captured by the pirates, or Jim had been badly wounded.

"I fell into a ditch or something," Miller went on, "an lost my way and got be’ind’and, and tried a-takin’ a short cut, and something ’it me on the head and fair dazed me, and them ugly devils came up and collared me—came up from be’ind, they did. I never got a chance.

"I’ve got a bit of a scratch ’ere, sir," and he crawled over to me, and stooped to show me a groove across the top of his head. A bullet must have done it, and the hair was all matted together with blood.

"How did they catch you?" I asked Martin.

"Well, it was like this, sir. I saw ’em a-picking of you up—that not being so difficult, beggin’ your pardon—and, not thinking, I slipped along arter you, forgettin’ that I’d only got one arm that ’ud work. Well, sir, I got separated from them two others, and had ’em ’eathens all round me, and they got the best of it, sir." He was very gloomy, and lifted his left arm a little way from his side. "Ain’t no good, sir! Somethink’s broke in my shoulder."

Miller had found a bowl full of water, and that made me remember how thirsty I was, and he knelt down and gave me some too, holding my head up. It was jolly difficult to drink, my lips were so swollen, and a good deal of it ran down my neck, but it was jolly refreshing.

"What’s the matter with my arm?" I asked him. "I think it’s broken."

He took hold of it very gingerly, whilst I held on to the wrist and jammed my teeth together, and then I saw by the funny way the sleeve bent up halfway above the elbow that it must be broken. I felt the broken ends grate together when he tried to move it. Oh! it was so painful.

He knew something about bandaging and splints, and tore down some of the thin rafters and lashed them on each side of it with his black silk handkerchief, and that made it more comfortable, and I managed to get on my feet. I felt an awful wreck, and was as weak as a mouse.

We were all plastered with mud and green slime, and were wet and horrid. I had lost one of my gaiters and my cap, and my revolver, lanyard, and cartridge belt were gone; but I didn’t really worry, because I felt too ill, and my head throbbed so much that I had to lie down again, and it was impossible to think properly, because everything was going round and round inside it.

There was a noise on the outside of that door, and it opened very slowly, whilst we all stared at it, and a Chinaman put his head very slowly in, looked at us, saw me turn to look at him, drew it back again, and shut the door. I suppose he must have heard us talking. I think that I must have gone to sleep after this, because the next I remember was a tall, gloomy-looking man standing over me. "You’re an officer, aren’t you?" he asked me, and I told him that I was a midshipman.

"Come down with me," he said, and helped me to my feet, and supported me down a spiral wooden staircase.

He got me into a room below, which was fitted up with European furniture—a writing-table, some cane easy chairs, and a camp bed. He made me sit down, and began pacing up and down the room. There was a clock on the table, and I saw that it was nearly midday. He went on pacing backwards and forwards, and I wondered whether he was the Englishman who had stolen Mr. Hoffman’s yacht. I hadn’t the least idea what was going to happen. Then he took down a shaving glass and held it in front of me.

My aunt! I was a sight, if you like. All the left side of my forehead and face was black and blue, and my left eye was quite shut up, and my upper lip was tremendously swollen and cut. No wonder that Miller and Martin had been surprised when they saw me.

He smiled grimly, put the glass down, and just then a Chinese servant came in and spoke to him.

"I have some food ready for you; come and take some, it will do you good," he said, and led me into the next room, where there was a big bowl of hot soup. The sight of it made me feel ill; but I swallowed a little, and found that it was doing me good, and managed to get through it all. It was jolly painful to put the spoon in my mouth.

He told me that he had sent some food up to Martin and Miller, and that an old native who "doctored" for him was coming soon.

He seemed strangely worried, and couldn’t sit still. I should think that quite a dozen Chinamen must have come in whilst I was getting through that soup and soaking bread in it. They all seemed very excited when they saw me. Most of them scowled at me. Several of them were plump, prosperous-looking men, jolly well dressed, but others looked more like soldiers or sailors, great bony, leather-skinned, fierce-looking fellows. He seemed to have trouble with them, and once or twice spoke very angrily. I noticed, too, that whenever any of them came in, he put his hand to his pocket. I think, from the bulge, that he had a revolver there.

He didn’t look in the least fierce, except when he was angry—not at all like a man who could have done all those wicked things—and I began wondering whether he could really be the man everyone had been cursing. I suddenly thought of Mr. Travers, and blurted out, "We’ve got Mr. Travers back—that lieutenant you caught"—and, like the conceited ass I am, said, "I found him."

"I know," he said bitterly; "I never wanted to take him along; it was either killing him or taking him prisoner, just as it was with you and those two men. He fought like a demon, simply threw himself on us, and had a revolver, too. I had to knock him on the head and take him along. You’d better not let those people you’ve just seen know that you were the one who found him. They’ve vowed to torture every one of those junks’ crews who fall into their hands."

I wished then that I hadn’t spoken.

He began working himself into a passion, and his face did look wicked. He was tall and lean and very good looking, and he clenched his fists, and jerked his arms about, and began cursing everyone—Captain Lester, the Admiral, Mr. Hoffman, himself, and Mr. Hobbs.

"How are they? How’s Sally?" I asked; but he didn’t seem to hear the first time, and raved about his cursed bad luck. Presently I asked again.

"I wish to heavens I’d never set eyes on either of them."

"Why don’t you send them back to us?" I asked.

"Send ’em back? I daren’t; my life isn’t worth an hour’s purchase now, and they’d never let me. They’d kill them first, and me too. I don’t run this show—not really; it’s run by some of those Chinese mandarins—two or three of those who’ve just been in here. They think that as long as Hobbs and his daughter are in their hands they can get theer ransom, and that your old fool bull dog of a Skipper don’t dare touch them. They want me to marry the girl—to make it more certain."

"We thought that you were trying to marry her," I said stupidly.

"That’s nothing to do with it—nothing to do with you," he jerked out very fiercely.

"If your fool Captain will run his head up against us, I shall have to marry her to save her life and mine too."

"That’s what those fat, oily-looking beasts want to do, and want me to do; and those other bloodthirsty rascals want to cut their throats and have done with them, say they’ve only brought us trouble, and wish to get back to their old established pirate business," he added, sneering.

"I’ve got them in the only strong walled house in the town, and I’ve got a hundred of my best men to guard them, but I can’t trust ’em."

"If I’m caught I hang," he began shouting—I really thought that he’d forgotten me—"and if she knows that it will save my life, I believe she will marry me. If things go wrong I go, and directly I go, you all go—Hobbs and all of you, and the poor girl too" (he clenched his hands across his forehead). "We’ve the scum of the Yangste here. They’d cut my throat for a cent if I left off being useful to them, and they’ll cut all your throats for pure devilment."

He sank down on a chair and stared in front of him.

I had dropped my spoon and was very frightened.

A man came running in with a letter, talking very fast. He gave a horrid smile when he had read it. "It’s from your fool Captain. Wants to know whether you’re alive, and says if any harm comes to you, he’ll do I don’t know what."

"Go back upstairs and don’t move till I tell you;" and he sat down at the writing-table.

"Please tell the Captain that I’m well, all but my arm, and that it was my fault that I was captured, not the Commander’s," I asked him, because I had been worrying about that all the time, and knew that the Commander must have had an awful time with Captain Lester, and that that would be unfair. I knew jolly well that I’d made an ass of myself, and made things worse and more difficult for everyone by getting myself and Martin taken prisoners.

He nodded grimly.

"Do tell me whether they all got away safely last night?" I blurted out.

"They left one marine dead, no one else." He began to work himself into a passion again. "My men almost got out of hand last night—I’d a hard job to keep them back—and if that old fool of yours lands again I shall lose all control over them. He won’t believe what I wrote to him, so I’m going to write it stronger this time. If he comes lumbering along here they’ll all see ’red’, and kill every white man they can get hold of—and woman." Then he suddenly came across and gripped my shoulder. "A thousand years ago—eight hundred years ago—a girl wouldn’t marry a man unless he did something to win her—sacked a town and carried her off. Now they want flowers, and chocolates, and candies, and pretty speeches—ugh!"

Then he grew calmer.

"Go along up now—Ford your name is, I see—and wait till dusk. I’ll try and get you all over to that walled house. It’s your only chance."