Part 16

I was just going, when he called out, "In case anything happens, you had better take this," and he opened a drawer and pulled out a revolver and a couple of packets of ammunition. "They say it’s easier to die fighting," and he turned his back on me.

Feeling very frightened, and not quite understanding what he’d been talking about, I crawled upstairs, the Chinaman outside the door scowled at me, opened it and shut it after me, and I heard him swing the big wooden bar into its hole.

Martin and Miller were asleep—they evidently had had a jolly good meal—and presently a funny, jovial, fat old Chinaman came along and looked at my arm. He took my coat off and cut the sleeve of my flannel shirt, and the arm was a most horrid sight, absolutely all mottled purple from the elbow to the shoulder. He showed me two tiny holes, made a "poof" noise with his lips, darted his finger as if it was a bullet, and nodded at me kindly. Then I knew that it was a bullet that had broken the bone. He put on cotton wool and proper splints and proper bandages, and slung the arm up to my side and across my chest, under my shirt, and helped me on with my monkey jacket, and sewed my sleeve to the side. Really the old chap made me very comfortable.

He woke the others too, and did Martin’s arm—the collar bone was broken—and cleaned Miller’s head, and then went away, apparently quite honoured at being able to show his skill. I quite loved the old chap, and he made me so comfortable that I lay down, and when my head was quite still it did not throb so much, and I got in a jolly good sleep.

I woke and found the room quite dark, and Miller and Martin both snoring. My head was quite clear now, and I felt much stronger, groped about, and managed to get hold of that bowl of water, drank a little, and then propped myself up against the wall and wondered when that Englishman was going to take us away to Mr. Hobbs and Sally. It was so exciting to think that I should see them soon, that I really forgot that we were prisoners for some time; but then, after waiting and waiting, and hearing nothing except those snores, I began to feel frightened and miserable. I could think now without my head burning inside, and then I thought how I had muddled up all Captain Lester’s plans, and "washed out" all that I had done for him. If I had only been man enough not to have minded Captain Marshall’s chaff, I shouldn’t be here, with my arm broken and a prisoner, and with Martin too; and I was so wretched, that I wished that I had been killed instead of Tuck, that marine whom I had seen fall and dig his nails into the ground. After all I had been longing to do, it had simply come to this, and I snivelled a little, in the dark, for there seemed to be nothing more worth living for.

Presently there was a loud boom a long way off, and almost directly afterwards, the sound of a very big shell bursting. That wasn’t very near either, but I knew jolly well that nothing could make that noise except one of the _Vigilant’s_ eight-inch guns, and I could feel my head throbbing inside again with excitement, and wondered what was happening. Then more came, and other smaller ones, from quite a different direction. I had seen an opening in the wall—you couldn’t call it a window—just outside the door, and I thought that perhaps the Chinaman would let me look out; so I groped round until I felt the door, and rapped on it with my knuckles. They didn’t make much noise, and I kicked it with my feet, and then listened to hear if anyone moved; but there wasn’t a sound.

I tried to shake the door, and it seemed to "give" towards me, and then to stick in the frame—I felt certain that the wooden beam was not in place—but I couldn’t make it budge any more. I woke Miller, and he came across and got his fingers in a crack and pulled, and the door creaked and opened, almost knocking me down. We peered through the darkness and listened, and presently I could hear a clock ticking—it was that old clock I had seen in the Englishman’s room.

"I’m going down," I whispered to Miller. "Help me off with my boots."

I got them off, felt that the revolver was still in my pocket, and began creeping down that spiral staircase, keeping to the outside and feeling the wall with my one hand. Every step creaked most horribly, and I waited, trembling, each time, but nothing happened, and then I had turned the corner and saw the bottom, and that some lamplight was coming out of that room.

"Are you all right, sir?" I heard Miller whisper; and I whispered back and felt braver, and got out the revolver and crept down. I couldn’t hear the clock, because my heart was beating so horridly, but I got down to the door and looked in. There was a lamp burning on the writing-table, but not a soul there, and I went through, very softly, into the room where I had had that soup, and there was another lamp burning there, and any amount of food on the table. It looked as if someone had only just finished a meal—a book and a fork were lying on the floor, and the chair had been upset.

There was a dark place beyond, with a flickering light in it, as if a fire was burning; but I wasn’t plucky enough to go in there, ran back to the foot of the stairs, and could just see Miller’s scared face looking down. I beckoned to him to come down, and he did so, making an awful noise, and Martin came too. They got hold of one of the lamps, and I didn’t mind going into the kitchen place then. It was quite empty; there was no one there. A funny-looking kettle hung over a small wooden fire, on a big flat stone, and was singing very quietly, and there was a saucepan full of cooked potatoes. They were quite warm, and I seized one and began to eat it. It was jolly good.

Miller and Martin were so hungry, that they forgot everything else, and ran back to the table and began "wolfing" food.

I had never thought of escape till now; but it flashed across me that perhaps we could get away, and I went back to the foot of the stairs and followed a long passage, towards where I felt some cold air, and suddenly came to an open door, and put my head out.

You know what happens when you open the door of a rabbit hutch, and the rabbits come and pop their heads out, and swizzle their noses and blink their eyes, and look as if they didn’t believe it, and run back again? Well, that was exactly how I felt and what I did. I ran back to Martin and Miller and told them, and they left off eating and came along with me, and we all three looked out.

It was quite dark, except for some stars overhead, and it seemed to be a small courtyard. We stepped out very gingerly—I had my revolver in my hand again—and we searched round, and found a high wall all round, and a very big door all studded with iron bolt heads, and with several thick beams across it.

We couldn’t hear any noise near us, but there was a funny murmuring, buzzing sound some way off, and just like the sound of the mob at Tinghai that night of the fire, and far away we could hear big guns, and shells bursting.

"That’s our old eight-inch, sir," Miller whispered, as one especially loud report shook the door. "I expects the old man—beggin’ your pardon, sir, Captain Lester—is coming along to look for us." The smaller noises, right in the other direction, he said was probably the _Ringdove_ and the _Oh-my-eye_ on the other side of the island (the bluejackets called the _Omaha_ the _Oh-my-eye_). We couldn’t really quite understand why they were firing, but it was jolly comforting for all that.

I wondered what had become of the Englishman and the Chinaman who had been guarding us, and the servant, and wished he would come back to take us to that house on the hill. Now that I had a revolver, I thought that I might still be some use in defending Sally, if once I got there.

I slipped back into the house to see if perhaps he was lying down on the bed and I hadn’t noticed him, but he wasn’t. The clock showed a quarter past eight, and I knew that it must have been dark for more than an hour, and felt frightened. The noise of the mob seemed to be getting louder and nearer too, and I ran back to Miller and Martin, who were still near the gateway.

Just as I got to them we heard some feet pattering along the street outside, and then more and more, and they stopped outside it and began pressing against the gateway, and then began banging at it with something hard.

The bangs seemed to go right through me. I was awfully frightened.

More people came rushing along; there was a fearful din outside; we heard something scrape against the wall, and someone scrambling up. I looked up and saw a man’s head just above me. He was crawling over the top, and was just getting his legs over. I let my revolver off and he dropped back again, though I don’t think he was hit, and the crowd began yelling like mad.

A rifle went off, the door splintered, and something flew past me. Martin pulled me to one side. "Keep out of the way, sir;" and the two of them hunted round for some piece of wood or other, and came back with some thick sticks. Stones began dropping over, and we crouched under the wall to dodge them. They came in hundreds all over the courtyard, and knocking up against the house. There was a terrific crash against the great gates, and they sounded as if they were giving way.

"We’ll be scuppered, sir," Martin groaned.

"Run for the house," I whispered; and we rushed back. One stone nearly hit me, and I heard a thud and Miller cursing; but we all got inside and slammed the door, and fumbled about to find the bolts.

"Go and get a lamp, sir," Miller shouted hoarsely—Martin was too frightened to do anything except get in our way—and I darted off.

As I ran along the passage I heard my name shouted, "Mr. Ford, Mr. Ford! Where are you?" and a short, grey-bearded European came rushing out of the kitchen place. I thought at first that it was the Englishman, but it wasn’t.

"Show us how to bar the door," I cried, and he came running with me.

"Quick, mon, quick! Bar it up—that way; there’s the lock—not that way," and he shoved Miller aside and shot the bolts in.

I was too frightened to ask him who he was, and even to remember that I hadn’t any boots; but Miller sprang up the stairs and brought them down. The man, whoever he was, wouldn’t let me put them on, so Miller tied the laces together and hung them over my neck.

"Follow me!" the Scotchman yelled impatiently—I knew he was Scotch by his accent—and we ran through the sitting-room to the kitchen, and then we crept through a narrow door. He disappeared into the house, but came back, and I saw him shove a big key into his pocket.

"Be varry careful," he whispered, and we groped our way down some irregular stone steps. We could hear them still banging away at the courtyard door. I kept on bruising my feet and toes in the cracks, and stumbling, but the old Scotchman always seemed to keep me from falling; and at last we seemed to be at the bottom, and near some water—I could hear it lapping against the stones. "Hush!" he whispered, and bent down, stretched out his hand, got hold of a rope, began hauling it in, and a native boat came sliding up, out of the dark.

"Get in—quick!" he whispered, and we all stumbled in, one after the other, and he jumped in after us. Right above us I could see two lighted windows, and knew they were those two rooms, and as he shoved off we heard a splintering sound—the big door had given way—and heard the mob rushing across the courtyard, yelling in the most fearful manner, and begin banging at the house door.

I had hurt my arm again getting into the boat, and the pain of it must have numbed me, because I quite well remember that I wasn’t so frightened then as I ought to have been.

We could just see the strange man standing up in the stern, swaying from side to side, and working a scull as the boat wriggled through the water.

"It’s aboot twa hours afore high water, and we’ve the flood wi’ us, the Lord be praised!" he whispered. "Keep down oot o’ sight," and we tried to squirm down into the bottom of the boat below the gunwales.

He stopped and stooped down, and we saw that he was putting on some kind of a Chinaman’s coat and a native cap.

Then he went on again.

*CHAPTER XIII*

*Mr. Ching to the Rescue*

Just in Time—Too Late!—In Hiding—Mr. Ching Arrives—Death of Mr. Hoffman—The Attack on the House—The Vigilant Signals—The Fog Increases—Searching for Rifles—Ford finds the Ammunition—Ford Saves the Situation—Waiting for Daybreak

_Written by Midshipman Ford_

We went wriggling along through the dark, and presently began to pass between junks—heaps of them. You could see nothing but their tall leaning masts sticking up like slate pencils. We dodged in and out, and sometimes a voice would sing out from one of them, and we would huddle down in the bottom of the boat, whilst the Scotchman replied in what I suppose was Chinese, and pushed on.

We must have gone like this for nearly twenty minutes, I should imagine, and then he stopped to take a breath.

"Who are you? Where are you taking us?" I whispered; but he didn’t answer, and, changing his hands, went on pushing the scull from side to side very vigorously, but stopped a minute or two later and looked behind us, where we could all at once see a great red glow, which showed up the junks we had just passed.

"They’ve set a light to the boss’s hoose," he whispered; "they’ll be after seeking the little lass the noo." And he worked harder and harder, and the shadows got darker and the water more narrow, and I knew that we were getting under some high land, and wondered whether we really were being taken to that house on the hill. Up over our heads we could hear a lot of talking and wrangling, and suddenly a rifle went off, and then another, and we could hear cries, and presently all was quiet again.

My heart was simply thumping against my side.

"God grant we be in time," I heard him say to himself; and he stopped sculling for a second, peered through the darkness, and then shot the boat in till it rasped against some stones.

"Get oot!" he whispered. "Doan’t talk a word, and jest follow me."

We got ashore as quickly as we could. He had a piece of rope in his hand, and made us all take hold of it, and we followed him along a steep path. We hadn’t gone ten yards when there were more rifle shots and more yells.

"The Lord be praised! they’re still shooting ’em," he said, and hurried along all the faster. I could hardly keep up, and the stones hurt my feet.

We seemed to be making a long curve away from the noises and the water, and he kept on losing the path, and we had to shove our way between high bushes, which scratched us; but then we turned to our right, and could see the top of a high wall right in front of us.

He broke into a run, we dropped the rope, and ran after him up to a small door. He fumbled for a moment with the lock, it opened, we crept in, and he shut it again.

We were in a garden place now, pitch dark, and he led us across it underneath some trees with low branches. The noise of rifles seemed to be right in front of us, and we came to the walls of a house with not a light showing. He knocked at a door; nothing happened. We rushed round to the other side to a smaller one; he tried his key again, and it opened, and an old Chinese woman with a tiny lamp in her hand, and her mouth open with fright, was looking down at us.

The Scotchman turned to me. "Go in there; Hobbs and his lassie are there. Get them here in two minutes; I’ll be back then. We must get them away. Quick, for God’s sake, boy!" and he disappeared.

I went in, and heard Sally’s voice singing out—very frightened and very sad, it seemed, "Who’s that? Is it Captain Evans?"

"Midshipman Ford of the _Vigilant_," I called out, not knowing the least who Captain Evans was. "We’ve come to take you away." My aunt! I was proud then; for it suddenly struck me that, after all, I should be able to do something for Captain Lester. Everything had really seemed to work out right, and I expected Sally to come tearing down, and was jolly glad that there wasn’t enough light for her to see me; but instead, I heard a sob and then a fall, and guessed what had happened.

The old woman brought her light, and I saw that she was lying all in a heap. I hadn’t the least idea what to do. "What d’you do for a faint, Miller?" I asked. "You’ve been through ’first aid’." I was frightened again, and didn’t know what to do; but the old Scotchman came rushing into the house, picked her up, took her into another room, and shook her. Miller had got hold of some water and shoved it over her head, and she tried to sit up.

"Where’s Hobbs? Where’s your father?" he called to her loudly; and she pointed through another door. And we found the little man lying in bed, looking ghastly; he looked an absolute skeleton.

He began to curse the Scotchman, but I stepped between them. "I’m Midshipman Ford of the _Vigilant_, sir, come to fetch you and Miss Hobbs. You must come immediately; these are two of my men."

I must say that we didn’t look very respectable, but we were good enough for him, and he crawled out of bed and began to dress.

"I’m too weak to walk much, but reckon I’ll do it if it ain’t far. You’ve been a tarnation long while finding us," he grumbled.

I don’t think that I liked him very much.

All this time the noise outside was awful—rifles firing, crowds of people yelling—and stones began to patter against the shutters. The old Scotchman couldn’t wait any longer, wrapped the little man in a long Chinese coat, lifted him off his feet, told Miller to bring Sally along, and ran out of the house. "So long as the boss’s people keep firing, it’s all right," he told me; and then I saw Miller lift Sally in his arms, in spite of her struggles, and we all followed, stones flying past our heads and rebounding from the walls. We went across the garden under those trees, and made our way back to that small door. The Scotchman put Mr. Hobbs on his feet, and I heard him trying to get the key in the lock; but just as he was going to open it, there was the sound of a whole lot of people running towards it, and they threw their shoulders against it and began talking very softly.

I was very frightened again, and I heard the Scotchman moan: "Too late! We’re done for!" and we all fled back to the house.

The front of it was now all lighted up with a red glare, showing above the top of the wall.

"They’re setting fire to the huts," he cried; "go up to the top room. Take them up there, bar the door at the front, and block it up with tables—anything." And he rushed off, came back for his revolver, which he had given to Martin, and disappeared.

"Guess Sally Hobbs ain’t a ten-cent doll," I heard her sob. "You can put me down right away." She led us along some passages, up some steps, and then to the foot of a ladder. The little man got up it like a monkey, and she followed him.

"Draw it up, and let it down when you hear us call," I sang out; and then we went back and began to pull along tables and benches and boxes, everything we could find, and piled them up behind the door in the front of the house. Before we had finished, the Scotchman came running up with his hands over his head. "We’re fair lost! God be merciful to us! The boss’s men want to know where he is, and won’t hold out many more minutes unless he turns up. They want to open the gates; say they’ll get their throats cut if they don’t. Jorgensen has been killed—down in the town—two hours ago—down by that six-inch gun."

"Can’t you do anything?" I asked quickly.

"No, mon, they hate me; and I fear they’ve killed the boss, and no one else can keep them in hand. They’re all round us, and they’ve tasted blood, and the mandarins themselves couldn’t stop them.

"Hark!" he said, "they’re beating down the little door in the garden wall. Oh, God, they’ll be right here in a moment!"

I was in an awful funk, though not for myself, I think, but more because of Sally. When one isn’t in a funk for oneself it is easier to keep one’s head. I don’t think that Miller or myself cared a scrap what happened to us, so long as we could keep Sally safe. The Scotchman told us to bring any heavy things we could find to block up the door at the back, and then ran off and brought some rifles and bandoliers.

We bolted the door and piled everything we could find against it, and then ran round, barring the shutters. We didn’t need any lamp, because the red glare streamed through the cracks and lighted up the whole place. The old woman had disappeared. Then we picked up the rifles and bandoliers, and he led us to the ladder, Sally crying out and lowering it. We all swarmed up and drew it after us.

The room was a small square place, with stone walls and narrow openings—you could hardly call them windows—in each wall. They were closed with iron shutters, and the one looking over the front was open, and the whole place was lighted up. The Scotchman and I looked out, and it was a most awesome sight.

Down below, about twenty yards from the foot of the house, was the wall and the big gateway, and behind it were the Englishman’s men, stooping down to load and then popping up and firing. They seemed to be standing on some kind of platform or ledge, and were not taking the trouble to aim.

Out beyond there were flames pouring up from half a dozen huts, and we could hardly hear their noise because of the fearful shouts and yells from a dense crowd of people in between us and them.

They must have seen our faces in the light of the fires, for they yelled more loudly than ever, and we could see them bending down and then throwing stones at us. Stones began clattering against the outside wall all round us, and one came flying into the room, and I heard Sally sob with fright. We drew in our heads and closed the shutter, but before I drew in mine I am certain that I saw one of the Chinamen inside the wall point his rifle at us and fire. The room was almost dark now, except for one streak of light which came through a gap at one edge of the shutter, and just made light enough for us to see each other. Mr. Hobbs was lying full length on the floor near a wall, and Sally was lying down too, with her head on his chest, and moaning. I did wish she would leave off, because it made us all so much more frightened.

Directly we had closed the shutter, stones began clattering against it—and, I’m certain, some bullets too—and we heard a rush, and the mob charged the big gateway.

We could still hear the ships firing. "My God, I wish they’d come!" I heard Miller mutter; and that was what I had been praying all the time.

The noise at the back of the garden seemed to have stopped; but the firing from the wall was easing down too, and the Scotchman groaned out, "They’re going to leave us;" and Sally, who seemed almost "off her head", kept on moaning, "Why doesn’t Captain Evans come?"

I felt that I should go mad in a minute if I didn’t do something. Miller must have thought the same. "It’s no use sitting ’ere to get killed, sir. Can’t we do something? Can’t we fire at them? We’ve got three rifles." But the Scotchman wouldn’t let us open the shutter.

"Keep still, mon; they haven’t all left us yet," and we could still hear a few rifles firing from inside the wall.

Just for something to do, I began pulling on my boots—they were still tied round my neck with the laces—and it was awfully hard work with only one hand, and they were all sodden and stiff; but Miller helped me. We had just finished, when suddenly there was a rush of feet underneath us at the back of the house, and a furious battering noise on the shutters.