Part 17

"They’ve broken in!" the Scotchman groaned, and Sally shrieked and buried her head in her lap. Miller seized a rifle and jumped across, pushed her out of the way, opened the shutter at the back, and leant out. I saw him load it, and he was just going to fire, when there were cries of "Sally! Sally! Open the door!" and more hammering.

We jumped to our feet. Sally shrieked that it was Captain Evans come to save her, Miller roared "Who’s there?" and we heard someone sing out, "Who are you? Is Sally safe?"

I knew the voice; it was Mr. Ching’s, the Lieutenant on board the _Huan Min_. I forgot all about my arm, and jumped over to where Miller was. "Get out of the way!" I cried, and yelled down, "Midshipman Ford of the _Vigilant_. There are six of us up here, and Miss Hobbs is all right."

"Come down and let me in."

"Right you are, sir!" I shouted, and drew in my head.

"Isn’t it Captain Evans?" Sally asked me.

"No. Mr. Ching of the _Huan Min_"

She moaned and began crying again.

We lowered the ladder and scrambled down, pulled the things away from the door at the back, and opened it, and there was Mr. Ching and twenty or thirty of his men, all crowding round.

I could only say, "Thank you very much, sir," and should have blubbed if I’d tried to say any more.

"Hoffman brought us, showed us a path up from the water. He’s gone to try and keep order. Can she come away at once?"

I don’t know what I was going to say. It didn’t make any difference, because the noise at the other side of the house suddenly grew fearfully loud, and we heard the gates give way and swing back with a crash, and the mob rush through with frightful yells of triumph. Mr. Ching gave an order, and ran round to the front of the house, and I found myself following him with Miller behind me.

Some more men joined him at the corner, and then we came out into the glare and saw the bright gap in the dark wall made by the gates being open, and a mob sweeping up to the house. They had torches and blazing tufts of straw on poles. A few of the Chinamen inside the wall were trying to keep them back, but I could see most of them dropping over the wall outside.

Mr. Ching’s people fired a volley into the mob, and then another, and some shots came from the room I’d just left—the Scotchman and Martin firing, I expect.

The mob didn’t seem to have expected any resistance, and stopped and left off shouting. I could see many of them throw their hands up and fall, and there were shrieks and screams, the blazing bits of straw fell on the ground and were trampled out, and they began to fly back through the gateway.

I was swept along with Mr. Ching’s men, and found myself in the gateway. Some of them were swinging back one side of it, and pulling aside bodies which were in the way.

Someone was trying to crawl away as the big gate swung towards him. It was Mr. Hoffman. I could see him well, and just managed to pull his legs clear as it swung to. He didn’t recognize me.

"You hurt, sir?" I asked him.

"Shot through the chest; get me into a corner. Is Sally safe?"

Miller was nowhere to be seen, and I couldn’t make any of the _Huan Min’s_ bluejackets understand. They were too excited.

"Try and get hold of me; get hold of my coat."

He grabbed at my left side; I gave a yell with the pain of it. "Not that side; the other, sir," and he got his fingers into the slit of my other pocket and drew himself on his knees, spitting blood out of his mouth and coughing.

Supporting himself like that, and with the other hand on the ground, he managed to crawl back to the house and then rolled on his back.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I’m Ford of the _Vigilant_."

"Thank God you are safe! I’m dying. Bring Sally to me;" and he coughed again.

"It’s not safe for her here; I’ll try and get you round to the back."

I heard my name called, and ran towards the gate, and there was Mr. Ching looking for me. "Where is Hoffman? Are you all ready to start? We can keep them off for a time," he panted.

I pointed to where Mr. Hoffman was lying. "He’s shot through the chest. He’s dying. He can’t move."

Mr. Ching groaned. "We shall have to stay here till daylight. I can never find my way back without him."

I forgot about the Scotchman.

The last of his bluejackets rushed back through the gate, the other half were swung across, and we were in darkness again, except for the glare over the top of the wall. Bullets were now spattering against the front of the house, and bits of plaster were trickling down, and we knew that the Chinamen from inside must have joined the mob. Mr. Ching rushed off to place his men round the wall, and I went back to Mr. Hoffman. He was trying to pull himself up against the side of the house, and I gave him my right shoulder to lean upon, and we got round to the back like that and to the door; but he couldn’t drag himself over the boxes and piles of things heaped there, and lay down with his head on the stone slab, half in and half out of the door.

"Get me some water and bring Sally," he whispered. "I’m finished. God have mercy on me!"

I couldn’t see his face—it was so dark—but his voice sounded awful.

I was trembling all over, and scrambled in and called out for Sally. I forgot to call her Miss Hobbs.

She was still in that small room, and I heard her crawling across the floor. I heard the Scotchman and Martin firing out of the window too.

"What is it?" she asked in a scared voice. "Are we safe? Has Captain Evans come?"

"Come down with me. Mr. Hoffman’s dying, and wants to see you."

She wouldn’t come for some time; and when she did come she was trembling all over, and I had to steady her with my right arm along the passage.

We found a tin with some water in it, and I took her to Mr. Hoffman, where we could just see him lying.

"Thank God!" I heard him whisper, when she bent over him.

I went away, wanting to cry.

Then I suddenly remembered that the Scotchman could guide us down to the water, and ran off to find Mr. Ching, but couldn’t.

Miller appeared from somewhere.

"That old Scotchman could guide us back," I said. "Where’s Mr. Ching?"

"That ain’t no good, sir," he said. "They’re all round us now, ’undreds and ’undreds of ’em, an’ ’e’s got only fifty men with ’im." Then I noticed that bullets were coming from the back of the house as well, and heard furious firing near the little gate by which we had entered.

"That Chinese Lootenant is over there now, sir."

I went across for him, but couldn’t find him. His people were outside the little doorway, firing into the dark, and he must have been there too, and I didn’t dare to go out. I couldn’t see a yard in front of me.

I think I must have been too absolutely "done up" then to do anything more, and I really forget what I did and what happened. I know that I sat down on a stone somewhere near that small doorway, and rested my head on my knees, and squeezed my left arm to change the pain of it. I know that rifles were going oft all round me, and people were shrieking and yelling, and sometimes I heard Miller’s voice shouting; but everything seemed to buzz round in my head, and nothing seemed to matter in the least.

I rather fancy that my idea was to wait there till Mr. Ching came back, and tell him about the Scotchman.

I was roused by hearing the door slammed and being nearly knocked over. Mr. Ching saw me. "Get along back to the house," he gasped—his face was streaming with blood—"I can’t hold the walls any longer. I have not enough men;" and he more or less lifted me to my feet and gave me a push, and I went staggering along with my legs giving way under me.

I remember seeing Mr. Hoffman lying flat on his back, with his face turned up and his eyes looking at me, and remember speaking to him; but he didn’t answer. Sally wasn’t there either, and I stepped across him, and somehow or other found myself stumbling up the ladder into that room, and heard Sally sobbing in a corner. I was shivering, and my teeth were chattering, and that horrid sick feeling came on again.

Just as I got to the bottom of the ladder a stream of fire shot up across one of the windows, and I heard a rushing noise, as if it were a rocket; but I didn’t take any notice of it, for everything seemed to be going round and round People crowded up after me, and pushed me aside, and began firing out of the windows, and the room felt stuffy and full of powder smoke. Sometimes someone would give a cry, and once someone fell across my legs, and I tried to pull them from under him, but couldn’t, and let them stop there, and remember that the weight was pulled away presently, and I was pushed nearer the wall, and someone gave me some water.

* * * * *

The next I remember was recognizing Miller’s voice; it sounded muffled and cotton-woolly and very far away. He was saying: "The Chinese Lootenant wants to know if you can take in Morse[#], sir. The _Vigilant_ is signalling. We fired a rocket an hour ago to let ’em know that the _Huan Min’s_ men were ’ere, an’ we’ve been tryin’ to take in their signal."

[#] Morse code for signalling at night by means of long and short flashes of a lamp.

"I can’t take in flashing lamp," I told him, trying to make my brain work.

"It ain’t flashing lamp, sir; they’re adoin’ it with a searchlight, and very very slow, sir, an’ the Chinee signalman what came along with ’im, sir, is dead, sir. You’ll ’ave to come along pretty quick too, sir; there’s a ’orrid fog been shuttin’ everythin’ out ever since, but it’s just cleared off for a time. The wind’s gone round to the south, and it ’as been as thick as pea soup."

I told him that I would try, and got him to help me up. I knew that I could read it if it was slow enough, and my brain would only remember properly. We had to go to the other end of the house, and I don’t know how Miller got me down that ladder. I know that I slipped and was caught at the bottom, and my left arm was wrenched again. The pain seemed to wake me up, but I had to grind my teeth and sing out.

Miller helped me along the passage and made me stoop down when we passed a window, because the shutters had been thrown back and men were standing at them firing out, and sometimes bullets were coming in.

"How are we getting on?" I asked him.

"Pretty middlin’, sir. We’ve only had about three killed and two or three wounded, and we can keep the skunks out of it when we can see them, which we can’t always do on account of this ’ere blessed fog."

He helped me up some steps, and then up a short ladder. Someone hauled me out of a small square opening, and I saw that there was nothing but fog all round drifting slowly past. I heard Mr. Ching’s voice: "Can you take in Morse? I’ve forgotten it, and my signalman is dead—shot half an hour ago;" and he pointed to a huddled-up figure beside him. "They’ve been trying to signal through the fog ever since I fired that rocket, and he got one or two words, but it’s been too thick till now. They’re just starting again."

I did my best to pull myself together, and asked him where the _Vigilant_ was, and followed his finger, pointing through the mist, and suddenly saw a very faint searchlight beam sticking straight up.

"Don’t stand up; kneel down," he whispered. "They are firing at us." So I knelt down very quickly. Just seeing that beam made me buck up, and I watched it very steadily. I had only just knelt down in time, for a bullet came flying past, and made me crouch still lower.

Then the beam began to wag very slowly—long sweeps down to the ground for "longs", and short ones only half-way for "shorts".

"Get your knife and scratch ’longs’ and ’shorts’ on a tile as I sing them out," I told Miller, and heard him do it.

This is what I took in: "... rst ... tenant to Lieutenant Ching (full stop). Captain landed with one hundred and fifty men two hours ago (full stop). Afraid dense fog has de——" Then the beam disappeared as a thicker bank of fog rolled across; but it was grand news, and I wanted to cheer for joy, and kept my eye fixed on the same spot, and presently the beam showed again, and I spelt out: "rocket if Midshipman Ford, Armourer’s Mate Miller, Private of Marines Martin is with you."

"They want another rocket fired, sir," I told him.

"I haven’t any more rockets," Mr. Ching said. "We only brought one; the others were left in the boats by accident."

The beam started again. "First Lieutenant to Lieutenant Ching (full stop). Captain has——" They were repeating the signal, but then the beam disappeared entirely, and we could see a white wall of fog creeping along the ground, and even swallowing up the trees underneath us.

"They ought to be here soon," Mr. Ching said, "if only they can find their way."

He sent a man round with the news, and we could hear his bluejackets making a funny cheering noise.

I felt ever so much better, and simply being able to take in that signal, and be of a little use, cheered me up wonderfully. It was so grand to know that the Captain had landed with so many men and was coming to our rescue. I knew he would come just as quickly as he ever could, and oh! I did so long to see him, whether he was angry or not, and to tell him that it wasn’t the Commander’s fault—not in the least, and to know that Sally and all of us should be safe.

"Does Mr. Hoffman know?" I asked Miller. Mr. Ching had sent me down again, and had come down too, see how his men were going on.

"He’s been dead this last hour, sir." He was dead when we had to come back to the house, and we dragged him in after us.

I did feel so sorry, because we should never have found where Sally was but for him, and he had done so magnificently; and I knew that the Captain would be so sorry too, especially as Mr. Hoffman had beaten him at weight lifting.

"You go and get some more sleep," Mr. Ching told me; but I felt so much better, that I implored him to let me stay with him, and he did.

"We are doing all right, aren’t we, sir?"

"So far; but this fog makes it difficult for us to see them, and I fear they may try and rush us. We have not much ammunition left."

We went all round the house, and he spoke very cheerfully to all his men. They were at all the windows with their rifles pointing out, and peering into the fog. One or two men were wounded, and sitting with their backs to the wall.

"I am going to tell the news to Hobbs and his daughter," Mr. Ching said, when we had come to that end of the house. I had been going to ask him if I could do this, but he said it so curtly, that I thought he wanted to do it by himself, so didn’t go with him.

"You have a lot of blood on your face, sir," I told him. "I hope you aren’t hurt much."

"Only a stone," he said; but he wiped it off, till I told him there was no more showing—he wiped it off very carefully—and then went up the ladder.

Miller hadn’t the faintest idea what time it was—somewhere about midnight, he thought. We were standing near one of the open shutters, and could just see the three or four bluejackets who were guarding it. Outside there was simply a grey black wall of fog. It had settled down so thickly, that you couldn’t see a yard from the house, and was drifting in through the windows all damp and beastly. Everything was pitch dark; I couldn’t see the flames at all (as a matter of fact, the huts had burnt themselves out, but I didn’t know that); and Miller told me that everything had been pretty quiet during the last half-hour, nothing except an occasional shot, and that the Scotchman and Martin were still in the upper room. "We had a stiffish bit of business getting back to the house, sir. There seemed to be thousands of them on top of us, but they seem to have cleared off—some of them—and I’m thinkin’ they may be after going for the Captain’s party."

"Have you heard nothing of them—no firing or anything like that?" I asked; and when he said "No", asked him if he thought they would be able to find their way to us. He scratched his head and wouldn’t give an answer.

"It’s lucky, sir, you picked up that bit of Morse, sir; it’s put new life into all of us."

I was so proud and conceited of myself, that I told him to go and lie down, and that I would look after the lower windows.

"No, I dars’n’t, sir; they’re keeping quiet now; but I’m dreadin’ they’ll be tryin’ to rush us. I durs’n’t, sir. We’ve only got about ten rounds a man left, and it may come to bayonet work, sir, afore we get through the night."

There really wasn’t a sound coming from outside, and it all seemed so dark and moist and "creepy", that I really had a most horrid feeling "inside".

Mr. Ching came down the ladder. "She’s asleep," he said, and I knew that he was disappointed. He began going round the men at the windows, seeing that the ammunition was distributed equally. Some men had only two or three rounds left, and I knew by the sound of his voice that this worried him very much.

One of his men brought round a huge bowl of boiled rice, and the bluejackets scooped it out with their hands and stuffed it down. They brought another one for Mr. Ching, and he shared it with Miller and me and the Scotchman and Martin. It was jolly good and jolly warming, and I have never forgotten it; and now, whenever the messman has a lot of scraps left over, and gives us curry in the gunroom, I think of it and of trying to save the bits of rice that wouldn’t go into my mouth, and of that horrid fog.

Mr. Ching was talking of the possibility of getting some ammunition by searching all the dead Chinamen between the house and the wall, but then he remembered that the bluejackets’ rifles wouldn’t take the pirates’ cartridges. They were using Mauser, and his men had only a very old pattern rifle.

"Why couldn’t we bring in rifles too, sir?" I said. "There must be heaps of them lying out there;" and then, without thinking what I was going to do, I sang out to Miller to give me a "leg up", and scrambled through the window, and slid down on the ground underneath. Miller slipped down alongside me.

"Come back," I heard Mr. Ching say, but not very determinedly, and I had such a lot of "leeway" to make up for all the stupid things I had done, that I would not have gone back for anybody. You see, I thought that I might do something useful, and also I was rather ashamed that Mr. Ching and his men should have done everything and we so little.

"Give me two bags," Miller whispered; and Mr. Ching handed out two things like haversacks, and he slung one over my shoulder and one over his.

"Tell your people, sir, that we’ve gone, in case they think we’re pirates, please;" and then we crept along until we found the door in front of the house.

"Most of them are in the path to the gate," Miller whispered, and we groped along it.

We hadn’t gone five yards before my foot struck something soft, and it was a body, and I felt it all over, but couldn’t feel any cartridges, and there was nothing either on the ground all round. I found several more without ammunition, and then, presently, a couple by themselves, with two rifles lying on the ground close by. It was ripping to feel their cold barrels, and the men had full bandoliers round their waists. I couldn’t take them off by myself, so whistled for Miller very softly, and he came over to me. He had found another rifle and a good number of cartridges.

"Better take these back," he whispered; and we did, groping our way through the fog, and handed them in at a window.

I knew that there ought to be a good many on that ledge under the wall, where I had seen the Chinamen standing to fire over it, and told Miller.

"Right you are, sir! Let’s try;" and we shoved off into the fog again.

"Is that gateway still closed?" I asked him.

"Been smashed over an hour, an’ they’ve been swarming all over ’ere, up to ’arf an ’our ago, sir, just where we are now, sir."

Phew! I’d never thought that the pirates had been right inside the wall again, and I’m certain that I never should have come if I had—I’m positive about that.

I was fearfully nervous, and I think Miller was too, and we stopped and listened, and tried to peer through the fog.

We couldn’t hear a single thing, and started out again. Then I ran into a tree, and the wet leaves and twigs scratched across the raw part of my face, and I let out a little "yelp", and we stopped to listen once more.

"We’re too much to the right, sir," Miller whispered, and we both kept close together and moved towards the left.

We came on the wall all of a sudden, and felt that ledge. There still wasn’t the least sound of anyone moving.

"You go that way, sir, and I’ll go the other," Miller whispered, and left me, and I felt my way along towards where I thought the gateway must be. I felt any number of empty cartridge cases, and every now and again my fingers clutched a loaded one, and I slipped it into the bag; and I felt a rifle and was awfully pleased, and slung it round my neck—it was jolly difficult to do it with only one hand, and jolly uncomfortable too. Presently my foot hit up against some big wooden thing, and I knelt down and felt it, and thought it must be a part of the gateway, and that I must be right in the opening. That made me frightened, and I crept across and bumped into the other side of the door; it was simply swung back. I had kicked another rifle, but hadn’t the pluck to go back and fetch it.

I just held on, trembling all over, and waited and listened, and then started again, following the door round till I got to the wall, and there, the first thing I felt, was a box on the ledge, right in the corner between the door and the wall. I felt it all over; it had a square hole in the top, and my hand went in and—oh! it was such a jolly feeling—it was nearly full of paper packets of ammunition.

It was too heavy to lift with my one hand, so I began to whistle very softly for Miller, and waited for him to come. I heard his whistle, but almost at the same moment I heard someone moving on the outside of the wall. I knew that it couldn’t be Miller, and I do really believe that my hair stood on end with absolute funk. I couldn’t have whistled again if I’d tried, and could not have run back to the house, however much I wanted to, because my feet wouldn’t—absolutely wouldn’t—move an inch.

There were more than one coming. There seemed to be a long string of them, and there was a funny rustling sound against the wall, as if they were carrying something soft, and they began coming round the doorway, some of them stepping on that rifle that I had kicked, but not picked up. The gate door was pushed back on me, and I squeezed myself into the corner against the ammunition box, and they began running past me, going along inside the wall—away from where Miller was. I could hear them breathing hard, and held my breath, till I thought I should burst, and thought they must hear my heart thumping—it was thumping away like anything. I’m not at all big, and I huddled down so close, that they went by without finding me, though once or twice something brushed my face, and knew by the touch and the smell of it that it was straw or hay, and that that was what had made that rustling sound.

I guessed directly what they were going to try to do—pile it up against the house and set fire to it.

I waited till the last one had gone, and then I managed to get to my feet, and heard Miller’s whistle, very close, on the other side of that door, and that started my legs working, and I ran, stumbling, back to the house, with Miller after me. We bumped up against it; I don’t remember getting inside, but only remember telling Mr. Ching everything, and that the Chinese seemed to be following the wall in order to get to the back of the house.

"The left side of the gate door doesn’t seem to be damaged, sir," I told him; "they swung it back on me."