Part 5

Down I had to go to see the boats all ready for lowering, and when this was done run several messages to the Sub, who by this time had men at all the guns, and plenty of ammunition on deck. There wasn't much doubt that Mr. Chapman and his men were doing their utmost, for now we could feel the engines humming round like sewing machines, the ship began to throb and vibrate with a funny wriggle which you could almost see when you looked aft along the deck from the bridge. It was just as much as I could do to hang on to the bridge rails with one hand and keep my cap on with the other, whilst the spray wetted us from head to foot. The 12-pounder's gun crew had come up to the bridge and fondly cleared her away and loaded her. Then I felt that funny sensation in my stomach again, the sardines and the wobbling I expect it was, and hung on to the bridge and gasped for breath between the showers of spray.

You should have seen our funnels! What paint was left on them came off just like the skin of scarlet fever people when they peel, great roaring flames licked out of them, and clouds of smoke went rushing aft, whilst astern was a huge mass of churned-up foam, looking as if it would fall on board.

We must have been chasing her for nearly half an hour, and did not appear to be gaining. Mr. Parker kept on anxiously looking at his watch as we rushed along--now leaving Colombo behind us and running away from the dark belt of trees which marked the shore.

Presently Mr. Chapman came up on deck, sweating all over. "She's doing as many revolutions as she did on her trials," he shouted; "her engines won't take any more steam, I'm only blowing it off," and he pointed to clouds of steam hissing away from each funnel.

"Make a signal, 'I wish to communicate and send a boat', and keep it flying," roared Mr. Parker to the signalman, who was evidently prepared, for he had already bent the proper flags and pendants to the halyards and quickly hoisted them, the bunting stiffening in the wind like painted steel. I forgot to say that the Chinese ensign, the Yellow Dragon, was flying at our stern. How we did wish it was our own white ensign.

We all watched for a reply, but none came. There was no doubt we were now gaining--we could plainly make out a few men on her bridge looking at us from time to time--and judging from the great masses of smoke which were pouring from her funnels, the stokers must have been working desperately hard to escape from us.

"We're well out of the three-mile limit, I think, Collins?" shouted Mr. Parker.

"Yes, sir--ten miles away."

"Then try a shot at twelve hundred yards, Jones (the 'No. 1' of the 12-pounder). Go as close to her as you can without hitting her."

"Very good, sir." And Jones, a huge muscular man pressed his shoulder against the mounting and bent over the sights. How we did throb and pitch--the muzzle of the gun never seemed still, and it seemed ages before Jones fired. There was a beastly sharp crack, the cordite smoke drove back into our eyes, and we all strained to see the result. The shell burst half a mile ahead of the Patagonian as it struck the water.

"No one can shoot from a platform like this," Collins said angrily; "we're dancing about like a lot of marionettes."

Jones fired another shot, which burst astern, but not the slightest effect had either--still no answer to our signal, and no attempt to lessen speed.

Just then Mr. Chapman reported that he only had two more tons left, and had swept every bunker. Mr. Parker groaned, "She'll get away, and I can't even get back to Colombo. Carry on firing as fast as you can, Collins, with your two for'ard 6-pounders."

Then we heard, below us, the joyful voice of the Gunner singing out, "Target, right ahead, at one thousand--independent firing--commence."

Wasn't there a banging. But I was too excited to mind the noise, and we all cheered as every now and again one of our little shells burst close to the Patagonian. We were closing rapidly, and could see all but two of her men clear rapidly down below. Then one of our shells struck a boat they had stowed inboard near the stern, and great pieces of it flew into the air. Didn't we cheer, for at this they had evidently had enough of it, and clouds of steam came roaring out of their funnels as they stopped their engines. We were going so fast that we were almost on top of them before Collins jumped for the telegraph, and put the engines full speed astern and the helm hard over. With a great trembling and shaking our way was stopped, we swung clear, and lay still not fifty yards away from our prize. There was hardly need to use the engine-room telegraph to stop the engines, for they were gradually slowing down. Our fires were burning low, and there was no coal to replenish them.

"Train every gun that will bear on her," sung out Mr. Parker, "and stand by to fire. Get out the boats."

In two minutes the dinghy was in the water, and Mr. Parker was bobbing across the fifty yards that separated us. I had to follow him with six men in the collapsable Berthon boat, each of them armed with cutlass and rifle.

I felt jolly proud, you can imagine. We were alongside in a "jiffy". "You first, sir," said the coxswain, and shoved me up the smooth side, and I climbed aboard, followed by two of the men.

Mr. Parker was listening to a horrid little officer who was gesticulating and talking very furiously.

"Take six of your men to the fore bridge and don't leave it till I give you orders, and kick everyone else out of it," he ordered, so up we climbed and kicked the two men still left there down the ladder. They didn't want much kicking.

In a few minutes Mr. Parker went below, followed by the little officer, still stamping and swearing. He seemed to stay there for ages, and I was wondering whether I had not better send some of my men down after him, but could not disobey his orders, and of course there was "No. 3" with her guns trained on us not fifty yards away, and that was reassuring.

Presently up he came on deck, followed by Hopkins and a man I knew must be Mr. Staunton. The men in "No. 3" saw them and raised a great cheer; indeed, it was splendid to have rescued them, and so jolly lucky too, for we could not have caught her if she had run away for another five minutes.

But the best part of the "show" was to come, for presently up poured a number of Chinamen, I should think quite fifty, and they were taken across to "No. 3" in small parties till there wasn't one left. I felt jolly sorry for Mellins and the others of the _Laird_ that they weren't there to see that little man stamp and fume and curse, whilst Mr. Parker looked on perfectly unconcernedly, and my six men kept their rifles at the present. I made 'em do this--I thought it would look better. When all the Chinese had gone, Mr. Chapman and his stokers came across, and the last boat-load towed over a grass hawser. With this they hauled aboard one of "No. 3's" cables, and then it dawned upon me that the Patagonian was going to tow us back to Colombo, for, of course, as I said before, we had no coal left, and were perfectly helpless.

It seemed rather rash to trust all those Chinese on board "No. 3" with only the very few hands left in her, but the leading seaman I had with me said, "Why, bless your 'eart, sir, them devils is all doves and sucklings now", and as he had been out on the Chinese station and knew them, that settled it.

Well, we got back to Colombo all right, and tied up to buoys inside the breakwater, and then there was a proper row. The skipper of the Patagonian went ashore and wired to his Government, and they wired to Peking, and Peking wired to us, and the result was that Mr. Parker had to put on his No. 1 frock coat and apologize very humbly for his "unwarrantable and high-handed proceeding". The fact was, you see, that the little man, who had been an officer in the Mexican navy, really had all his papers in order, and no doubt had a commission from the Patagonian Government. He swore he knew nothing about Mr. Staunton and Hopkins except that they had been put aboard at Aden from the other two destroyers, "and they take away all my good men there and give me Chinese pigs". That explained why we had seen no Chinese in Aden on board the other two.

Mr. Staunton told us his adventures, and how he had been captured at Port Said.

When the _Isis_, bringing Mr. Staunton from Brindisi, had anchored at Port Said, a man-of-war's whaler manned by men dressed as English blue-jackets, and flying the Yellow Dragon, had come alongside for him. Without the least suspicion he had been pulled across to a destroyer also flying the Chinese colours, naturally thinking it was one of our own.

Directly he climbed aboard he was seized and tumbled down below. They had not misused him, but you can imagine what his feelings must have been; and he said the food was awful, although they gave him whatever they could. "How that destroyer did stink on the way across from Aden, with all that crowd of Chinese on board!" he said, grimacing with disgust at the very thought of it.

Mr. Hopkins told his adventures too. "Just hustled ashore to have a squint at those cunning weasels alongside the coal wharf, guessed they'd played us a mighty smart trick way back at Malta, and was mighty inquisitive to see 'the cut of their jibs'. Ain't been looking at 'em time enough to see a cat jump, when round came two hands in front of my face, fingers on 'em, too, like steel claws, and laid hold of my windpipe as loving as a mother-in-law.

"Then someone caught me a whack behind the knees which brought me down, and before I could say 'Johnny Jones' I was lifted up, bundled on board, and plumped on deck like a bag of spuds." Mighty pleased they both were to be rescued, and Mr. Hopkins kept on smacking his thigh and roaring with laughter. "My snakes, how those black-livered, herring-gutted, fried-up tar-brushes of Patagonians did get to wind'ard of you at Malta! Just about won this round though, Parker?"

"I should just think we had," answered Mr. Parker, smiling.

Well, in the middle of all this off came a Cingalee telegraph boy with what turned out to be a telegram from Captain Helston. Mr. Parker came on deck after he had deciphered it, with a very grave face, and said: "Mr. Hopkins, I am ordered by Captain Helston to inform you that you must consider yourself under arrest for going ashore without leave at Port Said. I must request you to go below."

This was a facer for everybody; but Mr. Hopkins, with a look of amazement, obeyed immediately, leaving us on deck wondering why Captain Helston had been so severe. "His worries must have made him confoundedly strict," said Mr. Parker.

For the next days we lay at this buoy, keeping our eyes on the Patagonian, and with steam "up" in case she tried to leave.

We had a jolly good time ashore, and the dinners at the Grand Oriental Hotel in the cool of the evening, with the punkahs swinging to and fro, were simply ripping.

Then along came the rest of the squadron safe and sound, much to our delight, and Mr. Staunton and Mr. Hopkins were sent over to the _Laird_. The latter was certain to get a terrible wigging from Captain Helston, and we all felt very sorry for him.

Mellins and a lot of other midshipmen came over from the _Laird_, and Tommy Toddles from "No. 1", bringing a big cake his mater had sent out by the mail. We had a tremendous chin wag, and it was jolly to meet them all again, and spin them the yarn of our chase and capture of the Patagonian. How they did envy me!

Whenever I see a big cake now, I always think of that afternoon, sitting round the after 6-pounder gun platform, with the awning over our heads, and the big scavenger-birds (Bromley kites we call them) swooping round us as we ate our way through Tommy's cake.

A big P. & O. liner, too, homeward bound--she had waited an hour to take our mails--passed close to us, and the passengers all came to the side and cheered us, so we midshipmen gave a loud whoop all together, which brought Mr. Parker up on deck to order us to "chuck it".

They went back to their ship soon, and we had to patrol the mouth of the harbour after sunset, in case those other two Patagonians came in.

*CHAPTER VIII*

*Mr. Ping Sang is Outwitted*

Helston's Letter--A Tsi has Information--Ping Sang Acts Quickly--Ping Sang Watches--Ping Sang in Trouble--A Tsi Escapes--A Tsi Sights the Squadron--A Tsi Gives Warning

Mr. Ping Sang lived usually at Shanghai, but on hearing of the departure of Helston's squadron from Colombo, he had hurried down to Hong-Kong to confer with a friend of his, a wealthy merchant named Ho Ming, and to arrange for the rapid provisioning and refitting of the ships.

It was very necessary for the squadron to complete its task without delay, because the expenses of its maintenance were an enormous drain on the resources of the Trading Association, and also the depredations of the pirates had become so frequent, and their raids so successful, that coastal trade by Chinese-owned ships was at a stand-still. One thing was very clear, only ships belonging to Chinese subjects were attacked, and the most tempting bait, if belonging to Europeans, was left severely alone. Not a month ago a fine new steamer of 5000 tons had disappeared without leaving a trace whilst running from Amoy to Swatow--in fine weather, too--and it appeared that the pirates had begun to extend their operations to the northern part of the coast, for several ships had lately vanished near the mouth of the Yangtze in the most unaccountable manner.

An English gun-boat cruising among the Chusan Islands had reported meeting three ships flying the Chinese colours, ships which they were almost positive did not belong to the Chinese Government; but when a further search was made for them, they had disappeared.

Ping Sang was also anxious that the stay of the squadron at Hong-Kong should be as short as possible, for he was convinced that if the pirates intended making any more attempts to destroy the ships, they would choose that harbour in which to do it. One reason was that, ready to hand among the crews of the myriad of junks always assembled there, were hundreds of cut-throats from the lower reaches of the West river only too willing to commit any crime for money; and he was especially anxious to confer with Ho Ming, for this merchant owned a large fleet of junks trading up the river beyond Canton, and their captains and crews would probably be better able to obtain information as to the presence or suspicious movements of these desperadoes than even the police authorities themselves.

These two--Ping Sang and Ho Ming--were sitting in the latter's smoking-room on the evening of December 21 smoking their after-dinner cigars, whilst A Tsi, Ho Ming's confidential clerk and comprador, was detailing the results of his enquiries among the native floating population.

They were interrupted by an obsequious, white-gowned butler, who advanced through the mat-screened doorway and handed a letter to Ping Sang--a letter which Captain Helston had written from Singapore.

"The Imperial Chinese Ship _Laird_, Singapore, _14th December_.

DEAR MR. PING SANG,

My last letter reporting the proceedings of my squadron was written from Colombo on my arrival. I left that harbour on the morning of December 2, and proceeded to sea at easy speed, leaving destroyer 'No. 1' to await the arrival of the two Patagonian destroyers left behind at Aden, and destroyer 'No. 2' to keep touch with the third destroyer if she attempted to leave harbour within twenty-four hours of my departure.

They both rejoined me on 5th December at full speed, and reported the arrival of the two destroyers six hours after I had left, and that they made no immediate preparations for sea. After recoaling 'No. 1' and 'No. 2' from the _Sylvia_ store-ship, a process which occupied seven or eight hours on account of a strong breeze and a slight sea, I proceeded at thirteen knots, and reached Singapore without further incident, anchoring in the outer harbour.

Here I was met by a collier, chartered in Cardiff under sealed orders, and am at present completing the coaling of my squadron.

I have determined, after the incidents of the dynamite cartridges on the way out to Gibraltar and again at Malta, to take no more coal from shore, and have arranged for a collier to meet me at Hong-Kong. Our men will alone handle the coal, so there shall be no further chance of foul play.

The man Hopkins is still under close arrest, and I consider that this course will be more conducive to the safety of the expedition than handing him over to the civil authorities, with my proofs of his complicity not yet substantiated. The fact also that he is an American citizen would open up many legal difficulties, and after the lengthy diplomatic representations as a result of Parker's opening fire on the Patagonian, it is advisable to steer clear of these shoals in future.

This morning I received a wire from Colombo informing me that the Patagonians had not yet left, and that one was still undergoing repairs.

I shall leave to-morrow, and, as the monsoon is fairly strong, I have dismounted the guns and the search-lights of all three destroyers to lighten them as far as possible.

The mail is just leaving, and by the time you receive this letter I shall be slowly punching my way against the monsoon. I hope to be in Hong-Kong not later than the 22nd.

Both Dr. Fox and I shall be very glad to renew our acquaintance with you there, and to talk of old times and adventures when we all three were much younger.

C.H. HELSTON."

Ping Sang was small of stature and plump to a degree. He lay indolently back in his luxurious, crimson-upholstered chair, resting his podgy feet on a richly embroidered footstool.

His jolly, oily face was wreathed in smiles, and he blew great clouds of smoke from between his fat lips as he slowly read this letter, his little eyes twinkling with humour and with appreciation of his own well-being and prosperity.

His fat little hands had short stumpy fingers, beautifully manicured and covered with rings, which glistened and twinkled as he raised a dainty Venetian glass to his lips. He was dressed in dark claret-coloured silk robes, with pantaloons of light green, held together with gold knob buttons and gold braid loops, and was undoubtedly a prosperous gentleman and a dandy to boot.

On the opposite side of the fire, sitting bolt upright in an attitude of keen nervous alertness, was Ho Ming himself, a tall, gaunt Manchu, whose long thin fingers, with their prominent tendons, clenched rather than grasped the carved arms of his chair. His light-blue silk over-garment hardly concealed his attenuated figure, and his face was as gaunt as his body, with thin, tightly drawn lips, deeply recessed eyes, and prominent hooked nose.

Between them and behind a carved black wood table, supported by black wood dragons, sat A Tsi, Ho Ming's comprador, almost hidden by the clouds of tobacco smoke circling round him in the dull light of an ancient bronze lantern which swung from the ceiling, and contained a cunningly concealed electric light. He was dressed solemnly in black silk, relieved only by gilt buttons. It was this man who for the last ten days had been searching for any traces of the Pirate Syndicate's intentions, and with several Cantonese sailors selected from his master's vessels had mixed, both on board their ships and in the opium dens and lodging-houses ashore, with all the floating population of Hong-Kong.

"Helston and his ships should be here in a couple of days," said Ping Sang, speaking in Chinese and handing the letter to the anxious Ho Ming; "everything is all right so far."

"Now, Tsi, tell us again what you have been able to discover."

"Nothing, sir, beyond what I have already reported. There are two large junks from Amoy at the Aberdeen Dock, whose crews are strangers to Hong-Kong. Two days before their arrival an Englishman arrived by a coasting steamer which had picked him up at Amoy, and he is now staying at the Victoria Hotel, and one of my men has seen him go on board these junks. From what I can find out, they have a much larger crew than is customary."

"It is very unusual for junks to come down here from Amoy," interposed Ho Ming, glancing keenly from one to the other, and hardly able to restrain his impatience at Sang's apparent indifference or his comprador's stolidity. "Those junks are probably full of explosives, and it would be an easy thing to float them up against any of Helston's ships in the harbour and blow them up. We must do something--we must! Why, the ships may be here any time!"

"My dear Ming," smiled Ping Sang, waving a fat deprecating finger and settling himself more comfortably in his chair, "we must not excite ourselves--that's the only thing we can do at present. We've not the faintest reason for suspecting either the Englishman or his junks; still, we may be able to do some little thing."

"I think it might be wise, just for the sake of curiosity, to burn those junks."

"But think of the law--English law; we are not in China now. ('Thank goodness', or the equivalent in Chinese, piously muttered the comprador). We can't bribe the magistrates here; and think of the risk and the punishment."

"Well, well," continued Ping Sang soothingly, "we won't do it to-night. To-morrow I'll try and get a look at this Englishman--I may know him and he may know me. Have you seen him yourself, Tsi?" he asked. "Is there anything peculiar about him?"

"No, sir; but the man who saw him go aboard at Aberdeen says he limped badly," answered A Tsi.

"A limp had he? Well, I rather fancy I shall know him, and I rather fancy he would know me," drawled Ping Sang, "though I'll take good care he doesn't recognize me!"

* * * * *

On each side of the entrance to the Victoria Hotel is generally a motley row of coolies squatting at the edge of the pavement with their mat trays containing sweetmeats, matches, or sugar-canes for sale among the rickshaw men who come and go. Among these, next morning, was a fat old man in a dirty pair of blue trousers, with a dirty blue tunic tied round his naked shoulders, clamouring for purchasers as he fanned a swarm of flies off his sugar-canes with his broad mat hat. This was Ping Sang, and all the while he kept his eyes glued on the hotel entrance. He had bribed a coolie to give him his place for the day, and there he squatted in this extremely uncomfortable position. Sportsman as he was, with all his love of luxury, he never did anything by halves, and there he stayed on the chance of seeing the lame Englishman, whilst the sweat ran down his back, and even the morning sun blistered it.

Presently a coolie--and Ping Sang recognized A Tsi--came out of the hotel and passed without apparently noticing him, but he had the forefinger of his left hand extended, whilst the other fingers were doubled up. That meant that the Englishman was not in the hotel. A Tsi sauntered back again. Two fingers of the other hand were extended this time. That was sufficient for the old gentleman. The Englishman had gone to Aberdeen, where the two Amoy junks were anchored. Gladly rising to his feet, Ping Sang stretched his cramped legs, slung his two baskets across his shoulders with a bamboo pole, and trotted down the main street, trying to imitate the usual ambling gait of a street hawker. It was several miles to Aberdeen, and he slowed down very quickly, dropping a sugar-cane every now and then to lighten his load, and eventually came to the outskirts of the town and to the broad road which runs along the edge of the sea. Finally he squatted down at a sharp bend of this road in the shade of a big tree, and waited with his baskets in front of him.