Part 12

Every now and again it would catch something, and we'd get in a state of 'oly joy and 'aul at it, but, offener than not, it was only a piece of seaweed, or it had just caught a rock--you could tell that by the sudden way it gave. We went at it, 'auling the grapnel across where the cable might be, then putting to sea and backing again, for mayhaps 'alf an hour.

Rogers, the torpedo instructor, was 'andling the grapnel line, for the Sub, he says to 'im, "You've had more experience 'unting for lost torpedoes, so you take it, Rogers," which made us laugh, on the quiet, as it 'it the little man rather 'ard, 'e being mighty sore about anything going wrong with 'is torpedoes.

There was not a sound from shore, and not another light could we see. Pretty eerie it was, with every now and again the noise of guns a-firing out to sea, and we went backwards and forwards till we were well-nigh sick of it, and every moment thought one or all of them torpedo-boats would come dashing through, and probably cut us down.

Just as we were about to chuck up the business, Rogers sings out softly that he'd got 'old of something, and sure enough, as another man clapped on the grapnel rope, it came in with a steady pull, and Rogers, leaning over, with his arm in up to the shoulder, as it comes to the surface, says in a muffled voice, "I've got it, sir; right it is, sir."

We passed the grapnel aft. The Sub lashed a rope round the cable and 'auled it over the stern, Rogers coming gingerly stepping between us to cut it in 'alf, and we could just see 'im raise 'is axe, down it came, and out went both the lights.

We could do nothing but chuckle inwardly; we dursn't make a sound, and it 'urt somewhat.

The Sub-lootenant 'ad got one end in his hand, and he hung on to it like grim death, and hauled away till he'd got a couple of fathoms on board, and Rogers cut this hoff, and we dropped the rest of it in the water.

"Back to 'No. 3'," sings out the Sub, and we pulls away as cheerily as mud-larks, and then came the 'unt for her.

We'd got a signal lantern in the boat, and was just a-going to light it, when the Sub-lootenant caught sight of her and 'ailed her softly.

We were aboard in a jiffy and 'oisted the whaler in again, everyone a-patting us on the back.

They'd got some 'ot cocoa made down in the stokehold, too, and served us out some all round, which we needed pretty bad.

There was more firing just about this time, and when we'd got on deck again, after our 'ot cocoa, we were romping along in that direction. But we weren't off to 'elp "No. 2", not by a long chalk, for Mr. Parker or the Sub-lootenant, or both of them, gets another idea (real artistic, too, I called it), and he stops, and we gets out the two collapsable boats and the whaler, and we soon sees what 'is little game is, for he lashes a lantern in each of the small boats and sends the Sub inshore again. We were still, you see, quite close to the rocks, but 'alf a mile farther along.

"Take some fire-bars to moor them with, and leave them as close in as you can," he told the Sub. "Light the lanterns, and come back as fast as you can."

My! wasn't that a pretty little game? and weren't those torpedo-boats a-going to get a sur-prise?

It took pretty near a 'alf-'our to do this, and every now and agin we could 'ear shots--sometimes closer and sometimes seemingly farther off; but at last the lamps shone out, and though they did look a trifle unsteady in the swell, still they was good enough to deceive them Chinese.

When the Sub had got back we went off to where we'd heard the firing.

It was getting less dark now, and a few stars were coming out, and in a few minutes a long dark thing, with flames sputtering from the funnels, went flying past us--one of the Chinamen a-going 'ome--and another followed her, and we just laid low and let them go, chuckling to ourselves and thinking of the trap we'd laid for 'em.

"No. 2" had got hold of something now with a vengeance, for she was firing pretty fast, and, as we hurried over to her, we could see the flames of her guns and sometimes the flash of a busting shell; coming towards us too, she was.

We got our search-light cleared away, and when we were quite close we found "No. 2" a-hanging on to a poor unfortunate torpedo-boat and banging away at it; so we just slewed round her stern and turned our light on the wretched thing--an old torpedo-boat just struggling along at about twelve knots--to make it a respectable target.

That just did the trick, for she got hit by one of "No. 2's" 12-pounders, in the boiler most likely, and seemed just to double up, open out amidships, and go slithering under.

Poor wretches! an' we 'adn't the 'eart to cheer; 'twas so one-sided a show.

We stopped and tried to pick up some of her men, and did save a couple of Chinamen, more dead than alive with fright. They turned out jolly useful, as you shall 'ear afterwards.

"No. 2" hadn't seen the fourth boat, so we pushed on back to the entrance to look for her in case she tried to get in. The two lights we had left were still burning, but we couldn't see what had become of the two torpedo-boats which had passed us.

The people on shore must a 'eard that torpedo-boat blow up, for now a couple of search-lights shot out from somewhere high up on the cliff near the entrance, and began hunting round to see what all the fuss was about.

It just happened that where we'd moored the boats was a bit round the corner and out of sight of them searchlights, so we stayed abreast of them and watched the two beams a-travelling from side to side, and presently saw the missing torpedo-boat coming sneaking in. She must have gone right around the island.

Mr. Lang rushed out from behind our safe corner, and tried to wing her afore she could get into safety, and we followed 'im and tried a few long shots from the 12-pounder; but even I couldn't 'it anything under them conditions, especially as they glared their search-lights in our faces and commenced firing pretty briskly at us with small guns from the shore.

So we goes back round our corner, more quickly than we came out, and whilst we were turning they 'it us once or twice, smashing our whaler, and a splinter of shell or wood knocked over poor Rogers, who was standing by. We thought 'e was only stunned, but 'e was dead as a door-nail, and it 'urt us to think we'd chaffed 'im so unmerciful, and we covered 'im up and put 'im down below.

We waited about till it was light enough to see what 'ad 'appened with our little trap, and then went close inshore again.

Well, there was a 'orrid sight, or joyful sight, whichever way you takes it, for them two torpedo-boats were piled up against the rocks all battered to pieces, one in 'alf and the other bottom up, a-smashing up agin the bottom of the cliff. There wasn't a soul to be seen; and it was well-nigh hopeless, for the cliffs rose straight up from the sea, and no monkey could 'ave climbed them, let alone a Chinaman, so we knew they must have all been drowned. Poor old Rogers would have a lot of them heathen to keep him company.

The two lanterns we'd left in the boats were still burning as innercent as you like, looking yellow in the hazy light of morning.

*CHAPTER XV*

*Mr. Midshipman Glover Tells how he was Wounded*

Lang to the Rescue--In Disgrace--We Hate Dr. Fox

Pat Jones, the quarter-master, has told you all the exciting things that happened the night we reached the island, and how we had bagged three of the four torpedo-boats which came out, with only the loss of poor Rogers.

Both Tommy Toddles and myself were jolly down in our luck at not being allowed to go away in the whaler, and, like the silly idiots we were, we did not take the opportunity of getting a little sleep. The result was, that when daylight came we were both so sleepy, we could hardly stand upright or keep our eyes open.

Mr. Lang had brought "No. 2" close in abreast of the wreck of the Chinese torpedo-boats, and ordered Mr. Parker to recover his two Berthon boats.

As you know, our whaler had been smashed by the same shell that had killed poor Rogers, so she was useless, and suddenly I heard Mr. Parker singing out to me to clear away the dinghy and get her into the water.

"Take four hands with you; put one in each of the Berthon boats, and then tow them back," were his orders, "and take care you don't capsize this time, or back you go to the _Laird_."

We pulled in towards the nearest boat--close inshore she was--and just beyond her, right under the towering cliffs, were the two battered torpedo-boats, with some dead Chinamen washing about among the wreckage--a nasty sight, I can tell you.

We hauled in the moorings of the first boat, one of my four men jumping into her, and we had just commenced to tow her across to where the second bobbed up and down in the water, when ping! ping! came something past my head. A bullet took a splinter out of an oar, and we heard the noise of a rifle high up on the cliffs above us.

Then came a regular hail-storm of them--whip! crack! whip! crack! they went singing past, and throwing up little spurts of water all round us.

You may bet that we pulled hard and tried to make ourselves small.

Suddenly I saw Tomlinson, an A.B., who was pulling stroke oar, get white in the face and drop his oar.

Pat Jones, who had come with me, seized it before it could fall overboard, and Tomlinson tumbled down into the bottom of the boat with both his arms shot through, and helpless.

Then there was a loud boom from "No. 2" or "No. 3", and one of our 12-pounder shells burst against the cliff just below where they were firing at us; another and another followed, the noise rolling from cliff to cliff and making a hideous roar, whilst stones and rock came rolling down and splashing into the sea.

The pirates--Chinamen probably they were, for they shot miserably--left off firing, but before we could weigh the second boat's moorings they began again, firing from the top of the cliffs, a little farther away.

Pat Jones was steadying the dinghy with the oars, whilst Stevens, a Plymouth seaman, and I were hauling in the rope, and hauling, too, for all we were worth, when suddenly Stevens gave a gasp and fell forward, knocking me over, and would have fallen overboard himself had not Jones jumped aft and pulled him aboard. He was dead. I could see that by the way his head hung sideways as he was hauled into the boat, and Jones laid him down alongside Tomlinson, who was groaning horribly.

The rope, too, had slipped through my hands, and the moorings had to be hauled up again. Jones and I seized hold of them, and it was then that I felt something hit me in the leg. It felt just as if somebody had struck me hard with a ruler or the flat of one of our dirks.

I can't really remember accurately what happened after that till I found myself pulling the stroke-oar and towing the two Berthon boats away from those horrid cliffs. I felt terribly sick, and it was all I could do to keep my foot from hurting Tomlinson and to keep the other away from the dead man.

I seemed to wake up quite suddenly with my wrists feeling like hot irons, and with hardly strength to lift the clumsy oar out of the water. All the time, just as if it was in a dream, Jones behind me kept on saying, "Steady, sir, steady!"

Little spurts of water were still jumping up close to us, but I was too utterly tired to worry about them. My leg, the one that had been hit, began to feel like lead, and I know that I lurched over the loom of my oar once or twice, and could hardly pull it through the water.

"You'll do more good steering, sir," said Jones, and he got hold of my oar, shifted the crutch, and pulled both oars himself, working like a machine. I managed to scramble aft and get hold of the tiller, and just remember seeing "No. 2's" whaler, with Mr. Lang in her, coming down towards us.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes to find myself in Mr. Parker's bunk, and the propellers whizzing round and shaking the whole stern of the destroyer.

Looking over the edge of the bunk I saw Tommy Toddles in a chair fast asleep, with his head hanging over to one side in a most comical manner.

I guessed what had happened. I had simply fallen asleep in the boat, and had been put in Mr. Parker's bunk, with Tommy to watch over me, and he, too, had gone to sleep. I felt frightfully ashamed of myself for being such a baby, and crawled out, found my trousers, which someone had taken off in order to bandage my leg, and dressed myself rather gingerly, because the leg was very stiff, and smarted a good deal when I moved it. There were two neat little holes in the trouser leg, where a bullet had gone through, and a patch of blood, which stiffened the cloth all round them. I did feel proud!

What a joke it would be, I thought, to leave Tommy sleeping there and guarding the empty bunk; but then it struck me that Mr. Parker would only be the more angry, so I shook him, and a big job I had to wake him.

He did look silly when at last he opened his eyes and mumbled something about it not being his watch, and we both scrambled on deck and made our way for'ard.

It was a lovely warm, bright morning, and right astern was the island which had been so horribly close to us all night. Oh, we were so sleepy, and all over the deck men were lying sound asleep curled up in corners out of the breeze. Just abaft the after funnel was a heap covered with our best ensign, and we hardly cared to pass it, for we knew that poor Rogers and Stevens were underneath.

We clambered up the bridge ladder, passing Pat Jones at the wheel, who smiled grimly, with a warning look at Mr. Parker. He, with his back turned to us, and dressed in oil-skins and sou'wester, stood, gripping the bridge rails, as rigid as a statue.

You should have seen him jump when I said, "Please, sir, I'm all right now, sir," and Tommy, saluting, sleepily added, "Please, sir, Glover's woke up."

He looked ten years older: his eyes, sunk deep in their sockets, stared at us in a dull way, his cheeks were sunken, and his whole face was furrowed with deep lines. He had practically not left the bridge for forty-eight hours, and it was wonderful how he could stand the strain.

He swore angrily at us--at me for coming on deck without leave, and at Tommy for letting me get up.

"But please, sir," I began, "Tommy did not----"

I just stopped in time, for I was going to tell him that Tommy had been asleep.

Tommy, however, looking very ashamed, blurted out, "I went to sleep, sir, and Glover got up without waking me."

That made Mr. Parker all the more angry, and he sent us both below.

"Both of you will go back to the _Laird_. Have your chest ready in half an hour!" he said, snapping our heads off.

We saw the _Laird_ steaming to meet us, and went below again, feeling absolutely wretched, and commenced slowly to stow our things away in the chest which Tommy shared with me.

The next thing we knew was that we were being roughly shaken by Pat Jones, and we woke to find that we had both been asleep. Tommy was sprawled right across the chest, face downwards, with a pair of boots in his hand.

We could have cried, we were so angry with ourselves.

A cutter from the _Laird_ was alongside, and we two and Tomlinson, the wounded man, were pulled across to her, Mr. Parker coming too to make his report.

As we went up the gangway we could hardly face all the midshipmen who crowded round us--Mellins, and Dumpling, and all the others--we felt so much in disgrace, and I had not even the heart to tell them that I'd been wounded.

I had to hobble for'ard to the sick-bay, and the bandage was taken off my leg.

"Just a skin wound, Glover," Dr. Fox said, and put in some stitches, which didn't pain me half as much as I expected.

"I needn't go on the sick-list, sir, need I?"

The Fleet Surgeon smiled in his nasty way, and then fastened a long splint to the leg, and, of course, that made it certain that I could not go back to "No. 3".

How I did wish that I had not gone to sleep in the boat, and then no one would have known that my leg had been hit, and I might still have been aboard her. What a fool I had been! All my chances were gone, and, feeling utterly wretched, I couldn't manage to keep back a tear, and Dr. Fox saw it before I could brush it away.

"Pain you, youngster?" he asked, and then he must have understood, for he laughed and called me a young fire-eater, and wanted to know if I wasn't content with having been wounded twice, which made me get red and uncomfortable, and made me hate him.

It was impossible to walk with the beastly splint, so they carried me aft and put me in the Captain's spare cabin.

Tommy came along, too, and spread his hammock on deck, the sentry outside shut the door, and we slept soundly for nearly ten hours. Wasn't that a sleep? and weren't we hungry, too, when we did wake up?

Tommy went off to the gun-room, and the mess-man sent us in any amount of food. What a time we did have! And all the midshipmen crowded in and talked thirteen to the dozen, and wanted to hear all about our adventures, and to see the scratch in my leg. You can imagine how important I felt, especially when Captain Helston, with his arm still bandaged to his side, came to see me, and said some awfully jolly things. What I wanted, though, and what we both wanted, was to know whether we could go back to "No. 3", and I managed awkwardly, and getting very red in the face, to ask him.

He smiled grimly, and said, "I'll see what I can do when you come off the sick-list," and left us happy again.

It turned out that Mr. Parker himself had fallen asleep in Captain Helston's cabin after he had reported to him, and that, as everybody in both destroyers had been practically forty-eight hours without rest, people had been sent to them from the _Laird_ just to keep up steam and keep a look-out during the day.

This news made Tommy and myself quite contented, for, at any rate, we were not the only ones who couldn't keep awake.

Mellins and Dumpling had, however, both been sent to "No. 3" to take our place--temporarily we hoped.

"You haven't missed much," added Ogston, the Assistant Engineer, who had been so plucky in the sinking steamer, "for the _Strong Arm_ has not joined us, and we've been doing nothing all day."

They had buried both Rogers and Stevens. Poor fellows! they lay in a hundred fathoms, and brought our list of killed up to fourteen already.

Dr. Fox came in then, cleared everybody out of the cabin, gave orders to the sentry that no one was to be allowed in, turned out the light, and left me. Just like him, was it not? But I had a pencil and paper, turned up the light again, and wrote a tremendous letter home, just to spite him.

*CHAPTER XVI*

*Captain Helston's Indecision*

A Weary Blockade--Getting Impatient--The Prisoner's Story--A Willing Prisoner--The Pirates' Cunning--Ping Sang Excited--News from Home--Helston's Ill Health--Cummins Indispensable--A Gun-room Scrap--Now to Business

The few days which followed after the events narrated in the last chapter were days of peace and devoid of excitement. Well, they were needed, too, to allow the crews of the destroyers to recuperate after their exertions and want of sleep, and to repair the minor damages incurred by the fast steaming of the squadron from Hong-Kong.

The two poor fellows who had been killed were buried at sea with all the solemnity possible under the circumstances, all the ships stopping their engines and lowering their ensigns to half-mast, the crews standing bareheaded whilst the service was being read, and remaining "at attention" till, sewn up each in his hammock, the two bodies plunged overboard and sank out of sight.

The _Strong Arm_ rejoined from Hong-Kong after having buried her men in the Happy Valley cemetery, and she, too, added to Captain Helston's anxieties by developing considerable engine-room defects, and by having eaten up half her coal.

Hunter, eager to arrive at the scene of action and not to miss any of the fighting, had pressed her through head seas at the greatest speed he could get out of her, with the result that for six days she was practically useless, with every artificer in the squadron tinkering away at her bearings and condensers.

Fortunately the weather held fair, and by repairing only one main engine at a time she was able to crawl away from the island each night and crawl back in the morning, lying most of the day utterly unable to assist in a fight if the pirates had come out.

Each night the destroyers "No. 2" and "No. 3" crept inshore to cut off any issuing torpedo-boats, but, after their first fatal attempt, none attempted a sortie, and, save that on occasions when Mr. Lang or Mr. Parker ventured within gunshot during daylight and drew a sulky warning fire from the batteries on each side of the entrance, there were no signs of life and nothing to remind them that, hidden behind those rocks and wooded slopes, hundreds of cunning, slit-like eyes were keeping watch.

With the weather fair and the sea calm the destroyers coaled without difficulty from the little _Sylvia_, and in four days of arduous work the _Laird_ and the _Strong Arm_ also filled up their bunkers.

It can easily be imagined how difficult, how dangerous, and how slow was this operation in an open sea, with the chance of the pirates coming out at any time to interrupt it, or the wind and sea rising and making it impossible.

However, Captain Helston's luck held, and in six days' time he had all his bunkers full, and the _Strong Arm_ repaired sufficiently well to rely upon getting sixteen or seventeen knots out of her.

But he had no definite plans to act upon.

After seven months' hard work, during which he had overcome a thousand difficulties, he had brought his little squadron to the scene of action, but, once having reached his goal, he seemed to lose his power of initiative, and instead of making the first move himself, he waited for the enemy to do so.

Day succeeded day and nothing was done.

Each night, with lights out, the _Laird_, _Strong Arm_, and _Sylvia_ vanished into the darkness, rejoined each other at a given rendezvous next morning at earliest daybreak, and moved in towards the island.

The destroyers sleepily would join them after their night's watching, and there the squadron would lie till sunset came, and the same routine commenced again.

To the Commander of the squadron and to all his officers, to say nothing of the men, it became very apparent that events had reached an impasse.

If the enemy chose but to lie quiet in their island stronghold and wait, a time would surely come when the blockading squadron would have to depart. No ships, however stoutly built, can stand constant work for any length of time in those stormy seas without a refuge in which occasionally to shelter, coal, revictual, and give their crews a "run ashore". Men and officers, too, become "stale", dispirited, and discontented with the monotony of blockade-work and the monotony of an unvarying and not too palatable diet.

Once this "staleness" develops, the sick-list grows apace, and general slackness makes itself felt.

There was no doubt whatever that the clever schemers in that little island had laid their plans accordingly, and were quite content to allow Captain Helston and his ships to wear themselves out in a wearisome blockade, probably conjecturing that, with the dislike of prolonged inaction, the Englishmen would throw their cards on the table and make a combined attack on the island, which they considered--and justly, as events turned out--was impregnable to sea attack.