Part 24

"Now, what you have to do is this"—we all got fearfully excited—"I’ve asked the Commander for his gig to-night, told him I wanted it for a special purpose, and he played the game and didn’t ask for what, and said she needn’t be hoisted out of the water. She’s quite big enough to take the gun and carriage, and Hamilton and the ’A.P.’ and six of the strongest of you mids have to go away in her at about half-past two in the middle watch. You must be down astern of her, not close enough to let her spot you, by a quarter to three, and then wait till you hear me start squealing.

"The _Ringdove_ has her dinghy made fast to the starboard boom to-night, so you’ll have to pull alongside her port gangway as ’gingerly’ as ever you can, get aboard and bring back the gun, and the carriage too, if you’ve got time. The trunnions of the gun are only secured in the carriage by bands, and there are pins in them which can be pulled out—well, a good many of you have seen them already. Don’t worry about me; I’ll swim back."

That was the scheme which he and Mr. Hamilton had worked out between them, and it was jolly exciting. Mr. Hamilton was to go in charge of the gig, and as he was very strong—nearly as strong as the Sub himself—he had to do the lifting with Mr. Moore (the A.P.). Webster, Jones, and Jim Rawlings and three of the others were told off to pull the oars, because they were the strongest of the mids.

"Dicky", who was quite all right now, wasn’t to go, because he was too excitable, and "Pongo" was too fat and useless. I wasn’t going either at first, but I implored them to let me steer. I could manage with one hand, if they fixed up the wooden tiller the Commander used when he took the gig away sailing, and I said that I had some right to go, because the gun had fired at me so often. Jim backed me up, and Mr. Langham agreed that I had some right, but told me that I should have to sit on the gunwale, behind the stern sheets, so as not to crowd the boat too much.

You may jolly well imagine that I didn’t care where I sat or what I did, so long as I could take my share in the job.

Presently Mr. Langham compared his watch with Mr. Hamilton’s, and went ashore in a very old flannel suit; and we had to turn in and pretend to sleep, though that was impossible, and we kept on running up on deck to see what kind of a night it was.

It turned out to be jolly dark, which was splendid; but there was only a very little breeze, and that was blowing from Kowloon, on the mainland, straight towards Hong-Kong. This was a nuisance, because it meant that Mr. Langham would have to beat off shore in the sampan, and as there would be a jolly strong tide running, it would be very difficult to just hit off the buoy and the _Ringdove’s_ bows, especially as he was going to do it single-handed.

Mr. Hamilton was rather worried about this, and just after midnight he came along to Jim and told him he had better go ashore, find Mr. Langham, and help him sail her. Jim was about the strongest swimmer of all us mids; that was why he chose him. And Jim was jolly keen to go, and Mr. Hamilton pulled him ashore in the skiff, told him where he would find the sampan, and pulled back again.

Well, I never thought the time for starting would ever come; but at last "four bells" struck, and we all dressed, Dicky helping me because of my arm, and we sneaked on deck like mice, and there was the gig waiting for us alongside.

Mr. Trevelyan was the officer of the watch, and I heard Mr. Hamilton say to him, "Going for a little exercise, Trevelyan;" and heard him reply, "Well, good luck! I’ve got everything ready to hoist it in." So of course he must have known all about it.

We crept down into the boat; I squatted in the stern, jammed my feet against the ribs there to prevent myself falling overboard, and we shoved off without making a sound, and pulled away till we were some way astern of the _Ringdove_, catching hold of the next buoy to hers and hanging on to it.

Then we waited in the dark.

We couldn’t see a single light in her except her "riding" light for’ard, and a very faint glimmer amidships, where the quartermaster ought to be. Presently five bells were struck aboard the _Vigilant_ and aboard the old _Tamar_ astern of us, and a few moments afterwards we saw a light moving for’ard aboard the _Ringdove_, her funny, "tin-kettly" bell was struck, the light came aft again, and we knew that the quartermaster, at any rate, was awake.

"Old Langham ought to be shoving off now," Mr. Hamilton whispered. It was so dark round us that we couldn’t see twenty yards; but the shore lights lighted the water close in under Murray Pier, and we all kept our eyes turned that way, and presently saw a sail show out for a moment, and whispered, "There they come," and got terribly excited.

One always forgets how excited one has been before, when other things happened, but really I do think that I was fearfully excited now—as much as I have ever been.

We waited and waited, and got the oars ready, and then, all of a sudden, we heard a sound from the dark, as if something was knocking up against a buoy. I almost fell backwards overboard, but saved myself by clutching the tiller, and then there were most piteous yells, two different kinds, so that I knew Jim was there, and we shoved off and pulled very quickly.

"Port gangway!" Mr. Hamilton whispered to me, and I steered for it; and as we gradually crept under the stern, we saw the quartermaster’s lantern moving for’ard and then saw it on the fo’c’stle.

Mr. Hamilton had to help me steer her, there was such a strong tide running; but we were fearfully careful, and got the gig alongside, and Jones held on in the bows, and Mr. Hamilton and the "A.P." and Webster disappeared up the gangway in their bare feet, with a tackle the Bo’s’n had given us. We could hear them very softly getting the gun out of the carriage, and the Chinese kind of yells were still going on, only more gently, and we heard the quartermaster sing out, "Who’s there?" and presently he sung out, "Hold on, and I’ll fetch the dinghy!"—though how he thought Chinamen could understand him I don’t know.

The lantern was thumped down on the fo’c’stle, and he climbed along the starboard boom, and in a very little while there was a splash of oars, and we knew that he was pulling to the buoy.

I knew that we were all grinning, although we couldn’t see each other, and imagined Mr. Langham and Jim swimming away out of sight; and I was rather nervous about Jim, because the tide was so strong, and it was quite five hundred yards back to the _Vigilant_.

However, there wasn’t time to worry, as Mr. Hamilton and the "A.P." were coming down the ladder with the gun in their arms, and the gangway creaked at every step, and we were very frightened because the noise seemed so loud. They slid it down into the stern sheets on to a gymnasium mat we had put there to deaden the sound, and back they went. We heard something drop on the deck, and it seemed to make an awful row, and presently they came to the gangway again, and all of them were lifting the gun carriage, and they began lowering it into the boat with the tackle. You see, it was such an awfully awkward thing to handle, though it wasn’t really very heavy.

Then we were absolutely petrified with fear, for suddenly we heard Mr. Rashleigh’s voice bawling for the quartermaster, and could hear him coming along from under the poop, cursing, and wanting to know where he was, and what all the noise was about.

The gun carriage was only lowered halfway down, but Mr. Hamilton sang out very softly, "Stand clear!" and dropped the whole thing into the boat on top of the gun (I don’t know how it was that it didn’t break anybody), and they all jumped down in a heap, making a most fearful row. Jones slipped the boat rope for’ard, and we slid astern just as Mr. Rashleigh ran up to the gangway and began singing out and cursing, asking who it was, and what it was, and "Where’s that quartermaster?"

He was in a towering passion, and we could imagine what a jolly funny sight he must be in his bulgy pyjamas, with his round red face and his bald head, but were jolly glad that there wasn’t any light for us to see him or he us. We hadn’t moved a muscle—not even those who had fallen in a jumble on top of each other—and simply let the tide take us down right under the stern, where it was tremendously dark, and he couldn’t possibly see anything.

I don’t think that he had discovered at first what had really happened, and kept cursing into the dark, but then must have found our tackle, for he was absolutely silent, and we guessed that he must have found that the gun wasn’t there.

By that time the quartermaster had come back, and the last we heard was a glorious row going on. My aunt! you should have heard him storming.

We were well astern now, and Mr. Hamilton and the "A.P." and Webster disentangled themselves, and we got out the oars and pulled a roundabout way back to the _Vigilant_. She was pitch dark, even the quarterdeck gangway lamps were turned off, and we had to feel our way very gingerly to the side. This was so that we shouldn’t be seen getting the gun on board. The rest of the gunroom and most of the ward-room officers were up there, and had a tackle rigged, all ready, and got the gun and the carriage on deck in no time.

They carried them for’ard to hide, and put the gun in the sand tank, covering it up with sand, and the carriage was taken to pieces and stowed away in one of the gunner’s storerooms.

We were all so excited, that I forgot all about Mr. Langham and Jim till Mr. Langham came dripping up the gangway, asking if everything was all right, and if Jim had turned up, as he had lost sight of him after leaving the buoy.

"A jolly strong tide’s running, and it was about as much as I could do to get here," he said, rather out of breath, and rather anxiously.

We all peered over the side, and tried to see his head coming along; but it was too dark to see anything at all, although Dicky and I went down to the foot of the accommodation ladder and looked along the surface of the water. Poor Dicky was almost off his head with fright. He kept on squeaking out: "Jim! Jim!" but daren’t do it too loudly. And we listened, but there was no answer, and I, too, was quite frightened, and wished that we could do something, only it was so jolly difficult to know what to do, and no one dare make a great noise, or run a searchlight, or anything like that, for fear of having to wake the Captain or the Commander, and giving the whole show away.

But Mr. Langham—just as he was, wringing wet—the "A.P." and Mr. Hamilton and four mids went away in the gig.

"He’ll probably have drifted down with the tide, and will try and get hold of a buoy," Mr. Hamilton told me, and they disappeared in the darkness.

I could not go down below, because I was so worried, and had the most horrid feelings inside me, which Dicky made worse by asking such silly questions. Everything was so horribly dark, and the tide was running so strongly, and I knew that Jim must be in fearful danger, although Mr. Trevelyan kept saying that he would turn up all right.

I had forgotten all about the wretched gun, till someone—"Pongo", I think it was—said to Mr. Trevelyan, "Jolly to have the gun all right, sir, and the carriage. Isn’t it, sir?" And Mr. Trevelyan answered, "What gun? I don’t know anything about a gun. I’ve been forward with the quartermaster for the last quarter of an hour, and haven’t seen anything."

I believe that the silly ass would have begun telling him, if Mr. Trevelyan hadn’t said, "What the dickens are you doing up here at this time? Go and turn in at once!"

I really wasn’t quite sure, then, whether he was "pretending" or not.

We waited for nearly half an hour, we all were fearfully nervous, and Mr. Trevelyan kept on saying, "I shall have to wake the Commander if he doesn’t come back in another three minutes," and would wait, and say it again. And at last he actually started to go down to the Commander’s cabin, but before he had got halfway down, the _Tyne’s_ masthead signal lamp began winking and blinking.

"She’s calling us up, sir!" the signalman sang out; and oh! it was such a relief, for she signalled, "Mr. Rawlings is aboard", and I was awfully thankful. She was right astern of us, quite half a mile, and he must have been drowned if he had missed her, as there was nothing astern of her, no buoys, or ships, or anything to hold on to.

Dicky ran down below. He is such a soft-hearted chap.

We signalled across that we would send for him, and three of the ward room officers, in their pyjamas, fetched him in the skiff, and I almost blubbed with delight when he came alongside, looking like a drowned rat, and pulling at an oar to warm himself.

We got him down below and out of his wet things, and presently Mr. Langham and the others came back in the gig.

They had pulled round all the buoys astern of the _Ringdove_ and tried to find him, and alongside the _Tamar_, hoping to find him there, and then, as a last chance, in a terrible state of fright, to the _Tyne_, and had got the good news that he had just gone back in our skiff.

"I thought it was all U P," Mr. Langham said, and changed into dry things; and then we all had a sardine supper in the gunroom, and most of the ward-room officers came down too, and we were awfully happy and contented, and Jim and Dicky and I "whoofed" two whole tins of sardines between us. Jim told me that he was pretty nearly "done" when he managed to grab hold of the _Tyne’s_ gangway, and couldn’t drag himself out of the water till he had sung out, and someone had come down and given him a hand.

We had to be awfully quiet, for fear of disturbing the Commander, whose cabin was just overhead, and that was the only drawback to the supper.

Then we all turned into our hammocks; but Jim and I were much too excited to sleep, and besides, we had eaten too much.

Wasn’t that a glorious night, and hadn’t we jolly well got level with Mr. Rashleigh?

"Worth the risk, every time," Jim whispered.

"But won’t there be a glorious row to-morrow?" Dicky squeaked. He was frightened about it already.

*CHAPTER XIX*

*The Captain Receives a Present*

"Old Lest" Flares Up—Recaptured from the Ringdove—Sally Again

_Written by Captain Marshall, Royal Marine Light Infantry_

Old Truscott has asked me to write this chapter, because he says that he is so confoundedly busy paying off the old _Vigilant_, that he hasn’t a moment to himself.

That is his reason for not being bothered with the job; but for all that he manages to get into plain clothes all right, and fly to the beach and the bosom of his family, directly after evening "quarters" every day. He is so beastly happy, that I don’t really mind shoving another chapter into this immortal book for him.

Although it is three months since we left Hong-Kong, I shall never forget old Rashleigh, in frockcoat and sword, coming fuming on board there, and wanting to see the Skipper about that wretched pop-gun which he swore we had stolen from him during the night.

I most distinctly remember having assisted to hoist something on board, at a most unusual hour of the night, but of course it was much too dark for anyone to be able to swear their Bible oath that it was his gun, though it certainly seemed to be wonderfully like it.

I said "good morning" to him as kindly as I could, and mentioned the fact that we were having very seasonable weather for this time of the year; but he was most distinctly rude, and when I saw his little eyes sticking out of his head, squinting round the quarterdeck and expecting to see his gun there, I nearly died of laughing.

His coxswain followed him up the ladder with some rope and blocks and flung them down on the deck.

"There’s your confounded tackle you left aboard me last night. You’re a confounded lot of burglars, the whole boiling lot of you," Rashleigh said to the Commander, and I am certain I could detect some slight traces of irritation in his manner.

Old Truscott himself flared up then—I’d never seen him angry before—and cursed the coxswain for throwing the tackle on the quarterdeck, and ordered him to pick it up again. He then took the fat little sausage, stamping with rage and red as a lobster, down to see the Skipper, whilst the others hauled me into the battery, banged me on the back, and implored me in the most gentlemanly way to stow "’hee-hawing’, like a whole pack of jackasses, you chump-headed son-of-a-sea-cook, or you’ll be giving the whole show away".

As Trevelyan had been the officer of the watch when the dastardly outrage was supposed to have taken place, he was sent for to throw some light on the subject, and after Rashleigh had gone away we heard from him all that had happened down there.

Neither the Skipper nor Truscott actually did know anything about it at all, and when Rashleigh, like the blundering ass that he was, suggested that they both did, the Skipper naturally flew into a rage, and after Trevelyan and the quartermaster who had been on duty at the time had sworn blindly that they’d seen nothing come on board during their watch (they had taken jolly care to be out of the way whilst we hoisted it in), he roared out, "What have you to say to that?" and little Rashleigh didn’t know what to say, but was so madly angry, and so certain that no other ship could have taken it, that he stammered out that he would like the ship searched.

"Search ’Old Lest’s’ ship for your lousy gun! You! You!——"

Fortunately the Skipper could never do justice to his vocabulary when he really was angry, so could not think of any particularly appropriate epithets suitable for this occasion.

But Rashleigh wasn’t finished with yet, and stuttered out, "I’ll report the whole thing to the Commander-in-chief!"

"Report till you’re blue in the face!" the Skipper roared. "You’ve got no blessed right to the gun—no more right than the other gunboats; you got it under false pretences, in the first place;" and he shook his fists at him.

"If a gun and its carriage—umph!—can be taken off your quarterdeck without anyone knowing about it, you must run your ship in a pretty smart way. Umph! If you can’t be trusted to keep it safely, I’ll take jolly good care you don’t get the chance again. You got it by a lie—yes, a downright lie—and if it does turn up aboard here, you can shout yourself hoarse for it. ’Old Lest’s’ blowed if he’ll give it you again."

The Skipper practically turned him out of his cabin, and ordered him to take the tackle back with him. Rashleigh was so furious when he went back, that he was quite white in the face; and I mentioned the fact to old Barclay as a phenomenon of medical interest, but he was so busy trying to prevent himself exploding with laughter, that the interesting information was wasted on him.

It was lucky that we left Hong-Kong two days afterwards, for feeling ran so high between the two ships, that otherwise there would have been serious trouble ashore between our liberty men and hers.

We steamed slowly away for "England, Home, and Beauty", with our paying-off pendant streaming from our masthead, and the gilt bladder at its end jumping about in the water astern of us, our wretched band blaring away "For Auld Lang Syne"—a most inappropriate tune for the "Ringdoves"—and "Rolling Home for Merry England", till we were halfway through Lyemoon Pass.

The Commodore had made a "general signal"—"Cheer Ship"—and the unhappy "Ringdoves" had to climb on her nettings and give us three cheers as we passed, though little Rashleigh didn’t appear on deck, as you may imagine. "Hardly what you’d call ’arty cheers," I mentioned to old Whitmore, who had been brought up on deck to see the last of Hong-Kong.

We returned them with three absolutely "top hole" shouts, for there were only two people aboard who didn’t know for certain that the gun was somewhere on board us—the Skipper and Truscott—and they all knew that the "Ringdoves" had no more right to it than the man in the moon, so cheered "according".

We stayed a couple of months at Singapore, waiting for the _Fisgard_ to come out and relieve us.

At last she arrived; we transferred some of the mids and cadets to her, cheered ship, and away we went for Colombo and home.

I assure you, on my solemn "Alfred Davy", that till next morning neither the Skipper nor Truscott did know anything about that gun, however much they may have suspected. When I went on deck, the first morning after leaving Singapore, there it was, mounted on its carriage, just below the muzzle of our after eight-inch gun. A brass plate had been screwed on to the carriage and engraved with—"This gun was captured during the operations against Chinese pirates in the Hector Islands, and presented by the Officers and Ship’s Company of H.M.S. _Vigilant_ to Captain Chas. E. Lester, R.N., and Mrs. Lester".

They had had the plate engraved ashore at Singapore.

Of course the Skipper saw it directly he came up to "divisions" and "morning prayers", and it was as good as a play to watch his face.

Truscott had been let into the secret an hour before, and he and the chief boatswain’s mate asked the Skipper if he would mind accepting it.

"Mind accepting it?" he roared, when he’d read the inscription on the brass plate, and "Blucher" had sniffed round the wheels, "Mind accepting it? I’m proud to accept it, and the missus will be prouder still. Umph! You’re a darned set of rascals! But that plate, wants something added to it. How about ’Recaptured from the _Ringdove_’?"

The men all laughed and guffawed. They were as pleased as "Punch".

"There is something I’d like to have on that gun," he growled, more gently—"the names of those of us who were killed; and if the Commander and the chief bo’s’n’s mate will see to that, ’Old Lest’’ll take it home with him. Umph! When we get home I’m going to try to get you a week’s extra leave—for your active service—if none of you give the Commander any trouble at Portsmouth."

The men were dismissed, and crowded for’ard, as happy as kings, and I heard the Skipper growl to, old Truscott, "Umph! you rascal, waited till we got off the China station, did you? Umph!"

"I knew nothing about it till this morning, I assure you, sir," he answered.

"Umph!" he grunted to me, "you’re looking mighty pleased with yourself. What did you have to do with it, eh?"

"I did happen to lend a hand at hoisting in something very like it, sir."

"You’re a disgrace to the marines," he growled, and went below grandly pleased.

* * * * *

By the end of August we were made fast to the north railway jetty at Portsmouth, and, as I knew they would—my troubles began. They were mostly connected with unpaid bills, so I won’t bother you with them; but it was Grainger, my trusty servant, who was more angry at them bothering me than I was myself.

"’Ere’s a ’ome-comin’, sir," he said mournfully, as he was packing my gear and snorting at the condition of my worn-out plain clothes; "’ere’s a ’ome-comin’, and arter all we’ve done for "The Corps", to say nothink of the wound in your for’ud, and that ’ere jab in the leg, and those trouses and serges, abso—lutely ruinationed. We can’t ’ardly turn you out fit to march the de—tachment into barracks, sir, that we can’t."

One thing gave him a little pleasure, and that was producing an eyeglass which he’d carefully preserved in a corner of a drawer. I thought that I had broken my last one before leaving Aden, but he had been keeping this one to make certain that, when the time came for marching into barracks, I should have one jammed in my port optic. "They’ll think there’s summat gone wrong with us, sir, if you don’t ’ave it—up in the hofficers’ mess."