Part 7

Helston clutched my arm and whispered excitedly: "There are some of those brutes who shadowed me in London. Get out of this quickly, old chap!" I thought he was probably mistaken, and put it down to his nervousness, but when we got into rickshaws and were driven rapidly up the street, I could swear that several detached themselves from the crowd and followed us in the dark shadows of the trees on either side.

However, there was no trace of them when we reached the main road.

By a stroke of luck we found the Chief of Police at Headquarters, and he telephoned to Aberdeen for more information.

Ping Sang had been discharged two hours ago, and was taken aboard the Amoy junks, one of which was just then sailing.

He listened impatiently whilst the Chief of Police spoke through the telephone.

"Has she left the harbour?" ... "Well, can't you follow her?" ... "How about the steam-boat?" ...

"She is already out of the harbour," he said, turning to us and hooking up the telephone-receiver, "and their steam-boat is under repairs and they cannot stop her. I'll send one of our patrol boats from here to cut her off."

"My destroyers must be ready by this time," interposed Helston, "and if you will make out search warrants, I'll catch her before she can get across to the mainland."

"The warrants would take some time," answered the official, "and I should have to see the Governor. The patrol boat shall get away immediately."

But for once Helston made up his mind. "Warrants or no warrants, I'll search every junk under way to-night," he said, and strode impatiently out of the room.

"I don't care what you do, outside the harbour limits," said the Chief of Police to me as I followed Helston; "and it's a very dark night, and no one will be any the wiser."

Ho Ming coming with us, we went down to the Victoria Hotel, and after some difficulty--for all we knew of the Englishman was that he walked with a limp--found that he had not returned in time for dinner, as was his custom.

Coming back from the hotel, I several times thought I could hear the pattering of soft feet behind me, though I could see no one. To reach Murray Pier, however, we had to go round the cricket ground, and as we passed along the front of it I saw two shadowy figures dart across to the trees which bordered the road at the side, and it struck me immediately that, if they meant any mischief, they might head us off there.

With a sudden inspiration, I sang out to Helston, who was ahead of me, "Race you to the pier for a dollar, old chap!" and called to my coolie, "Fi tee, fi tee! You beatee him fellow lickshaw, half dollah can do."

This was enough for the sporting coolies, and they raced like mad things round the corner and down the dark road.

It was lucky we were going so fast, because as we came abreast the one electric light in the road, two pistol shots rang out from the shadows under the trees and then a third. One splintered through the woodwork of Helston's rickshaw, and both our rickshaw coolies, with a yell of fright, dropped their handles, and fled for their lives. Helston tumbled head-foremost into the road at the sudden stop, though I was just able to save myself, and turning, saw a Chinaman within two yards of me levelling a pistol straight at Helston. I struck at him with my heavy malacca stick, and caught him on the wrist just as he fired again, the pistol rolling into the mud.

I grabbed at it, and the Chinaman fled into the shadows.

Helston scrambled to his feet, and we both jumped behind trees, the policeman on duty at the pier rushing towards us with his revolver in his hand and blowing his whistle lustily.

Ho Ming, whose rickshaw man had dropped him twenty yards behind, crawled out from behind another tree, and soon we had quite an army of policemen running up from different directions, one of them dragging my own wretched coolie after him into the electric light.

Then came some of our boat's crew with boat's stretchers in their hands, and just as they reached us Helston suddenly fell in a heap on the road.

They carried Helston down to the pier, and there he regained consciousness and struggled to his feet. I saw his left arm was broken. I supported him down to the boat, got him safely aboard, and ripped his clothes off to examine him. "Beastly ashamed of myself, old chap," he kept saying, "but they've got me in the chest too."

The bone was smashed five inches above the elbow. The flattened bullet had then torn a deep groove through his chest muscles, and he had lost a great quantity of blood. His wrist and forearm were also paralysed, so it was a pretty bad job, and took me and my surgeon, young Richardson, an hour and a half before we had him ship-shape again.

We ought to have given him chloroform and tried to sew up the damaged nerve, but he would not hear of it, because he was anxious to get the destroyers away and look after a hundred details, when once Cummins had reported their departure; and all the time we were busy with him, putting on splints and sewing up the wound in his chest, messengers and signalmen kept coming and going incessantly. He feared that one or other of the junks would drift down alongside and blow up, and worked himself into a tremendous pitch of excitement when the _Strong Arm_ delayed reporting "all water-tight doors closed". Then he thought it would be advisable for the steam-boats of the two ships to patrol round and round till daylight, and it took a long time to get steam up in them, all of which excited him still more.

Of course I knew that Cummins would "carry on" without him perfectly well, and I am certain he knew that too, and the knowledge only made him the more determined to superintend everything personally.

Finally he wanted to go aboard the _Strong Arm_ to see for himself that she was prepared for any emergency; but that was too much for me, and he eventually was satisfied with sending for her captain, Hunter, to report personally.

I made him eat some dinner--he had had nothing since lunch-time--and urged him to take a sleeping-draught. Not a bit of it. He was going to stay on deck till sunrise. "I'm no baby, old chap; it's all right, now you've fixed it up;" and he had a chair placed on the quarter-deck and sat there. However, I put half a grain of opium in his cup of coffee, and what with that and with the strain of the last few hours, he was soon sound asleep, and we moved him, chair and all, into the navigator's cabin, much to the relief of everyone, and especially of Cummins.

Personally I did not believe in the blowing-up theory, nor did I feel any intense interest either in old Ping Sang's fate or in the effects his disappearance would have on the expedition. As a matter of fact, I was pretty well bored with the whole affair, and would have "chucked it" willingly, but for my chum Helston. I turned in and slept soundly, as, thank Heaven! I generally do.

As I conjectured, nothing happened during the night, and at daybreak the destroyers had not returned.

Helston had slept fairly well, but, what with the pain in his arm and chest, a bad headache from the effects of the opium, and the disappointment of not recovering Ping Sang, was almost unbearable.

He had a great number of official calls to pay on shore, and was also very anxious to "carry on" aboard his ships, but I had at last to come definitely to an understanding with him and tell him very plainly--and he knew that I meant it--that I would not remain in the ship any longer unless he went on the sick list and did exactly what he was told to do. If he continued to play the fool, I swore that I would invalid myself home, and--perhaps most powerful argument of all, though I do believe he would not have had me desert him for anything--I assured him that if he persisted in refusing to act on my advice his health would most certainly break down, he would be obliged to give up the command, and then what hope would he ever have of winning that fickle little jade Milly.

Eventually we got him to bed--I was horrified to see how thin he had become--and I gave him another sleeping-draught, darkened his cabin, roped off the quarter-deck to prevent any trampling of feet over his head, and presently he went to sleep again, sleeping soundly till the afternoon.

He looked much less haggard when he woke, but I kept him in bed.

"How long are you going to keep me here, old chap?" he asked piteously.

"Two days more at the very least," I told him.

The destroyers had returned that afternoon without having been successful in their search.

During the next few days the police searched, without result, every junk in the harbour and every place where the Englishman could have concealed himself or Ping Sang. The second Amoy junk was found to contain no suspicious cargo, but, for all that, it was carefully watched, to give early warning lest she should attempt any treachery, because Cummins was still doubtful about her, and did not relax any precautions during those long nights.

Christmas-day went by, and Helston was able to walk round the gaudily decorated mess-decks, headed by our amateur band playing those atrocious tunes, "The Roast Beef of Old England" and "For he's a jolly good fellow", and everyone gorged as usual at lunch and slept like boa constrictors afterwards in their cabins.

I suppose I am too old for sea life, because Christmas so-called festivities on board ship bore me to distraction. At night the midshipmen had what they called a sing-song in the gun-room, to which the _Strong Arm's_ gun-room had been invited. They made the most disgusting noise--it makes me angry to think of it even now--and had the confounded impudence to ask me down, as they all wanted to drink my health.

The yarn had got about that but for me Helston would have been killed.

Perfect rot! but there it was; and the Sub and senior midshipman came to my cabin after I had turned in and pressed me to go down, even for five minutes.

I was reading a favourite chapter of Carlyle's _Sartor Resartus_--what a biting cynic that man was!--and hate being disturbed, so told them to go to Jericho, and wished I had the power to send them there, the whole bag of tricks.

No news of Ping Sang had arrived, and though Helston naturally worried himself, Cummins was still convinced that, as he had been kidnapped solely to be exchanged for Hopkins, we should shortly hear of him.

And so it turned out, for a letter came one morning, apparently written by the lame Englishman and posted from Macao, the Portuguese town at the mouth of the West river.

He signed himself Chas. R. Hamilton, and suggested an exchange of prisoners. I quote an extract from his letter as showing his unbounded impudence and his evident knowledge that we were bound hand and foot whilst Ping Sang was in his power.

"... In conducting war against the Chinese Government at Peking (war he called it, not piracy!) we little imagined that we should have the honour of meeting ships manned by my own countrymen.... Ping Sang, you may be glad to hear, is in robust health, but is anxious to return to you, as, I understand, your further proceedings are practically dependent upon his financial assistance.

"As he is of such great importance, I am naturally loth to part with him; but unfortunately I hear you have on board your ship an old friend of mine, Reginald Hopkins, and if you could deprive yourself of his society we might, in short, exchange our two unwilling guests ...

"In arranging the details of such exchange I must first ask you to give me your word of honour that you will not attempt any treachery during the transfer, nor endeavour, once the exchange has been made, to follow or interfere with Hopkins.

"I suggest that you send a destroyer to Macao with your reply. On her arrival a man giving my name will board her and receive the letter. If favourable, I will then write you again, and only regret that my distance from Macao will cause much delay.

"Failing a reply I shall, of course, retain possession of Ping Sang...."

We had a council of war after dinner that night, that is, Cummins and Helston had, for I myself only sat near the fire and smoked, and refused to give any advice even when they asked me.

I am paid to come this fool's jaunt as a doctor, and I'll see them hanged first before I interfere with their job. I certainly would not let them meddle with mine. If they did follow any advice I happened to give and it was unsuccessful, I should never hear the last of it, or, if it by chance were successful, they would pat each other on the back and pretend and believe too that it was their plan all along; so it was much better to smoke my pipe and keep my own ideas to myself.

Eventually they decided to arrange the exchange, although Cummins seemed personally averse to such a proceeding, thinking it much beneath our dignity to treat with such a man.

*CHAPTER X*

*Destroyer "No. 1" Meets her Fate*

To Release Ping Sang--Trapped--"No. 1" Disabled--A Gallant Deed--Sinking--Poor "No. 1" Disappears

_Mr. Glover's Narrative is now continued_

The three days after Captain Helston had been shot (his coxswain told me he probably would have been killed but for Dr. Fox) were most exciting. Then things calmed down and became rather monotonous. We were not allowed ashore after sunset, however. Captain Helston did not want anything to happen to us midshipmen, and that was a nuisance, for we missed any amount of fun--dances and things.

Our gun-room people played the _Strong Arm's_ gun-room at Socker in the Happy Valley, and knocked "the hide and hair" off them; and this was some consolation, for they had been rather uppish. We also had a picnic in the sailing pinnace to Deep Bay, which was jolly good fun, although we all got wet through coming back, and that ass Dumpling dropped the bread into the water whilst he was wading ashore with it.

I had been sent back to the _Laird_ from "No. 3", and Tommy Foote (Toddles) from "No. 1", and on New Year's eve we were having a bit of a jamberee in the gun-room--we had asked for half an hour's extra lights--when Jeffreys, our Sub-Lieutenant, was sent for by the Commander.

We thought it was because of the row we were making, but he came back and told Tommy to get his things ready and stand by to go aboard "No. 1" at daybreak.

"No. 1" went off in the morning, but was back again in time for seven-bell tea. Tommy hadn't much to tell. They'd run over to Macao, and Mr. Pattison, the Skipper, had given a letter to a Chinaman who had come alongside as soon as they anchored.

That was all, and nothing more happened for seven or eight days, whilst we had to grind at school, mathematics and torpedo theoretical rot and other things.

But then there were more rumours, and one day we heard that all Hopkins's gear was being packed--you remember him, the Yankee secretary who had been under arrest ever since leaving Colombo--we often wondered why.

Tommy Foote was sent again to "No. 1", and when next morning Mr. Pattison came aboard for final orders, he was evidently to take Hopkins with him.

You bet your life I was dead keen to go with Tommy and see the fun, for there was evidently something in the wind; so I asked Mr. Pattison to take me too. You see I had rather a pull over him, for he was very sweet on my cousin Milly; so he asked the Commander and off I went.

We steamed out through the West Channel, and Tommy and I thought we were bound to Macao again, but we were wrong, and it turned out that our destination was a small island about sixty miles away, at least I should think it was that distance, for we were doing about fifteen knots, and it took us four hours before we ran into a narrow little harbour between high cliffs, anchoring some ten cables from shore.

There wasn't a sign of a living thing, and we waited and waited, whilst Mr. Pattison kept on looking at his watch. He told us then that we were going to exchange Hopkins for the old Chinese gentleman who had been kidnapped.

"Why! is Hopkins one of the pirates?" we both asked, somewhat disappointedly, for he was hardly our idea of a pirate, and we rather liked him, he was so amusing.

"I only knew it myself this morning," Mr. Pattison told us.

Well, presently a _sampan_ came wriggling out from behind a small headland, and when it arrived alongside there was a fat little man sitting in it gorgeously dressed.

I didn't tell you that we had brought a man named A Tsi with us; but this man recognized him immediately as Ping Sang. The fat old chap climbed nimbly over the side and shook hands all round, so pleased was he to be safe again.

Hopkins was brought on deck, and apparently he and Ping Sang knew each other, though they only glared like two cats, and he climbed down into the _sampan_, Mr. Pattison taking no notice of him whatever.

However, Tommy and I stepped forward and shook him by the hand. I don't quite know why, but expect it was because we wanted to say that we had shaken hands with a real pirate. He seemed quite pleased.

His bags and boxes were so numerous that the _sampan_ had to make two trips, and this delayed us nearly an hour, Mr. Pattison fuming with impatience, and steam blowing off from the escape pipes.

Directly the _sampan_ had shoved off with its last load, we weighed and secured the anchor and were off back to Hong-Kong.

We thought our work was over for the day, but were mightily mistaken, for as we came to the mouth of the harbour, there, to our dismay, steaming gently towards us, were the three Patagonian destroyers, and behind them a cruiser painted dark green from mast-head to water-line, very much like the _Strong Arm_, only not so big. And they were, all of them, between us and Hong-Kong.

I never felt so scared in my life. Tommy went as white as a sheet, and even Mr. Pattison turned a bit yellow.

He swore terribly and cursed them for treacherous hounds--it was just about the neatest trap you ever saw in your life--and ordered the helm hard a-port.

Round we went, clear of the harbour mouth, and heading south as if we were going to run away; but if the people in the Patagonians thought we were going to do so they were jolly well mistaken; it was only to get up full speed and clear to quarters, which we did in a brace of shakes, the men as keen as mustard.

Tommy had to go down on deck and take charge of the two for'ard 6-pounders, but Mr. Pattison ordered me to stay on the bridge with him. The helm was put hard a-starb'd, we swung round like a top, and headed straight for them.

The destroyers seemed at first to be making straight for us too, but almost immediately turned off to starboard and ran into the little harbour we had just left. The signalman sang out, as they showed their sides to us, that they had no guns aboard, so that explained their flight.

We were now rushing down on the cruiser, going at quite twenty knots, and wondered whether she would open fire. We were not long left in doubt, for we were not more than eight hundred yards from her when we saw two little spurts of flame from under her bows, and then more from her fore-top, and the little shells whistled past and burst in the sea behind us.

I know I ducked my head, and rather thought Mr. Pattison did so too.

Then we began firing from the 12-pounder on the bridge and from Tommy's 6-pounders as fast as we could, and what with the noise of the guns going off so close to me and the whistling of the enemy's shells, I felt quite dazed, and it was no use to bob or duck, because the air seemed full of them.

Mr. Pattison startled me to life again by sending me aft with a message to the Sub. As I ran down the ladder two holes suddenly appeared in the after funnel, and a cloud of smoke burst out with a roar close to the after steering-shield. I must confess I stopped running, absolutely in a funk, and my legs would hardly hold me up. It was only for a second, though, and I ran aft just as hard as I could. The shelter screen was all bent and twisted, and in front of it were two of the after 6-pounder gun's crew lying on their faces, and blood was oozing from under them and running along the deck. I just managed to give the message to the Sub, who was bending over them, and then I was horribly sick.

I don't remember how I got back to the bridge, but just as I did so--and now we were not a hundred yards from the cruiser--a shell burst on the fo'c'stle close to the port anchor, and pieces came tearing through the canvas screen round the bridge with a horrid shrieking noise. Looking down I saw that one of the securing chains had been smashed, and that the anchor was now half over the side, hanging by one small chain.

Mr. Pattison saw it too, and tumbled down to the fo'c'stle, shouting to me, "Keep her as she is, and run along her starboard side as close as you can go."

I knew what he was going to do. If that last securing chain carried away, the anchor would go overboard, and even if the cable held at the stopper and did not run out, we might swerve right across the cruiser's bows and be cut in half.

We were right up to her now, and through her bow-gun ports I could see the men round the small quick-firers, but the mere fact of having a job to do prevented me from feeling frightened. Another second and we were alongside her fo'c'stle, not twenty feet away, and their small guns fired point-blank at us as we rushed past her side. I remember dimly noticing Mr. Pattison lying on his stomach on the fo'c'stle lashing the anchor for dear life. My ears were ringing and painful, my head seemed to be splitting, but I had enough common sense left to see that the stern of the cruiser seemed to be swinging into us.

She must have put her helm over, and meant to crush us as her stern swung round.

I yelled to the quarter-master at the wheel to "hard a-starboard", for she would be into us before we could clear her. I could just see his face as he stood on the steering platform below, and he heard me, but shook his head grimly and put the helm over to port. Our bows were already flying past her quarter-deck, and I saw at once that he was right and I was wrong, for our stern immediately began to swerve outwards.

It was a terrible moment, for she was swinging into us faster than we were swinging away from her.

She must strike us and I thought all was over, and gripped hold of the bridge rails, waiting for the bump.

Another second--there was a crash! We heeled right over to port till I saw the lee gunwale a-wash, and, oh horrors! the two men lying on the deck aft slipped overboard with shrieks of agony and fear. I saw our stern crumple like tissue-paper. We grated along, separated, righted ourselves, and were flying away.

Mr. Pattison jumped up to the bridge, yelling to "'midships the helm", but it would not move, and was jammed hard over.

All the men aft had been knocked off their feet, and I saw them scrambling up again as Mr. Pattison rushed aft, and all crowded round the crumpled stern.

We were now steaming in a circle, and our broadside was exposed to the cruiser, which commenced firing very rapidly again.

Then I saw the men aft jump clear of the rudder chain, the rudder swung amidships, and, thank God! we darted away; but something must have happened to the engines, for we were not going nearly so fast.

This has taken a long time to write, but probably did not last fifty seconds. It seemed a lifetime.

Directly we were clear Mr. Pattison came for'ard and took charge.

They had unshackled the steering chain, he told me, and the rudder had swung amidships. The starboard propeller had been smashed in the collision, and, with only the port screw working and the helm almost useless, we struggled along in a very erratic manner, our bows now going round to starboard and now falling off to port.