CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
"BUT WE WEREN'T BEATEN."
Stan looked round, and the man at whom he had aimed escaped.
"What's that?" he shouted as he looked for the crumbling down of thewalls.
The answer to his question came in the shrill, piping voice of Wing:
"Um t'inkee gleat Englis' man-o'-wa come 'long."
The Chinaman spoke as he rushed away across the wide floor, to beginclimbing the narrow ladder on one side--the steps leading to the roofand the trap-door through which he had passed to play the part oflookout.
"Oh, impossible!" cried Uncle Jeff hoarsely.--"Don't believe him, Stan,boy; it's too good to be true."
_Boom_! _thud_! and a sound like a crash, followed by a cessation of theyelling for a perceptible space, and then a peculiar murmuring, with theenemy outside becoming wildly excited, and then as if by one volitionswarming for the edge of the wharf.
"Wing's right," cried Blunt. "It must be a gunboat, and they are firingshell."
"Yes, yes," shouted Stan, and there was a peculiar hysterical ring inhis voice. "Look, uncle! that junk to the right is torn open; the poopis smashed. There's the smoke of the shell rising, and--Hurrah! She'sgoing down!"
Stan's triumphant cry was taken up three times over, the defenderscrowding the narrow slits to get a glimpse of what was going on--for thefirst shot had checked the attack, literally paralysing the pirates withastonishment; the second turned the assault into a retreat, while as thefierce hurrahs of the people in the _hong_ went on, the gangways of thejunks were being crowded in the rush for safety.
"Hoolay! hoolay! hoolay!" came from the ceiling of the great room; whileas Stan turned, there was Wing's head visible as he thrust it down, andas soon as he saw that he was observed the Chinaman shouted, "BigEnglis' ship fi'e two-bang shot."
_Boom_! came another report, and, almost at the same moment, _crash_!
Another shell had burst just over the second junk close up to the wharf,the splintering of fragments causing terrible havoc, which was trampledout of sight directly by the men crowding aboard.
For the moment Stan forgot all about their own perilous position, forthe air rushing in through the barricaded windows was cool andrefreshing; but Blunt had had eyes for what was going on below andwithin, where the air was growing stifling with smoke and heat.
"Here, Lynn," he shouted. "Quick! That whistle! Blow, lad, blow!"
The shrill note rang out, and brought every one crowding up to one endof the great stacked-up floor.
"Ah! that's right," cried Uncle Jeff. "Nothing to fear from the enemynow, lads; clear this window."
"Yes; and throw the bales down the staircase. It will block the way,"cried Blunt.
The men cheered, and worked with all their might, bale after bale beingtossed into the wide opening and filling it up so that the great draughtof heat was checked and the place rendered more bearable as the flameand smoke ceased to rush up as if through some great flue.
This done, Blunt gave a fresh order, and the party began to drop oneafter another through the window, those behind covering them with theirrifles in case of an attack.
But the precaution was needless, for the enemy had but one aim now--toget all on board their vessels, cast them off from the wharf, and makesail.
Hence it was that the defenders reached the outside of the burning_hong_ uninterrupted, and while the pirates were busy their intendedvictims followed the whistle once more, being led by Blunt and UncleJeff round to the broken-down window at the back which the enemy hadforced.
Here Blunt leapt in, followed by Stan and Uncle Jeff, marshalling hismen for that which he had in view--the saving of the great warehousebefore it was too late.
Lucky it was that such precautions against fire had been taken and thecoolies and warehousemen were so drilled.
For there was only the smoke to fear now. The great casks stood full,and the buckets ready to be seized and passed along to Uncle Jeff andLawrence, who, all soiled like the rest, and half-suffocated, sent thewater streaming over the parts where the fire was eating its way alongthe woodwork and up the stairs, till in ten minutes flames and sparksbegan to give place to smoke and steam to such an extent that it wassafe for some of the clerks to assist the carpenters, who, by Blunt'sorders, began to tear down the planks over the windows and let in airthat could be breathed.
It was none too soon, for even Uncle Jeff of the mighty muscles began tofeel that he must crawl out or stifle, while as the first puff ofwholesome air rushed in Lawrence dropped, and he was being raised to becarried out into the open air, but began to struggle and make signs thathe should be set down. Five minutes later he was vigorously swinging abucket again.
"Hurrah, Stan!" shouted Uncle Jeff at last. "There's nothing more tofear.--Do you see, Blunt? A splash here and a splash there. Keep thecoolies at it and the mischief will not be so bad after all. Here, Imust see what they're doing outside."
"Me know--I know," piped Wing, who always seemed to be ready foreverything but heavy manual labour such as might break his nails. "Wingbeen gone look outside off _hong_ whooff. Big ship come all steam uplivah. Shoot, shoot topside big junk. Numbee one topside junk gobottom. Numbee two topside junk float down livah go close 'longside.Allee ovey--junk lun 'way up livah. Steamship shoot, shoot, shoottwo-bang gun."
Poor Wing in his excitement suffered to such an extent from incoherencythat his speech was hard to grasp; but helped by a lookout from thewharf, where the enemy was represented only by the dead, the state ofaffairs was fully grasped. For the masts and parts of the sails of twojunks rose from the river a few yards from the wharf-edge; the wreckageof another lying over on its side was floating down-stream, while inresponse to the fire of a grim-looking grey gunboat, whose shells wentthrough her sides as if they were papier-mache, a fourth was settlingdown a couple of hundred yards away, and her late occupants wereswimming for the farther bank across the river.
As Stan shaded his eyes, which were dim and painful from the effect ofthe smoke, he saw enough to prove that the fate of the other junks wassealed. They were sailing up-stream, but the grey gunboat was churningup the water astern as she stole after them like fate, every now andthen sending forth a great ball of white smoke with a roar, followed bya stinging crack-like echo when a shell burst with unerring precision,the result being that the river seemed in the distance to be dotted inall directions with strange specks, all of which drifted for the farthershore.
"Ah, Uncle Jeff!" cried Stan suddenly, as he heard a sharp scratch, andturned to see a match burning in the bright sunshine.
"Yes, Stan, Uncle Jeff it is: come out to breathe and have a cigar.I've used up all my stuff, boy. Pumped out. Here we are, you see;safe, though, after all.--My word, how those Jacks can shoot! Did yousee?"
"Yes, uncle. Why, that junk must be half a mile away."
"Yes, splendid practice; but she'll go no farther than to the bottom,and the lads will have a shell into that other directly."
Uncle Jeff was right. It took two more shells as he sat smoking, andthen the last of the six pirate junks was so much bamboo chip floatingdown the stream.
"Poor wretches!" he said. "It seems very terrible; but it would havebeen much worse if the poor warehouse had been smoking ashes now, andour bones beneath."
"Yes," said Stan, shuddering. "I say, uncle, this is a horribleplace.--Ah, Wing! You there?"
"Yes; come see you like cup tea."
"What! can you get some?" cried Stan.
"Yes, plenty tea. Wateh nea'ly boil."
"Oh! I should," cried Stan huskily, "for I feel quite sick at heart."
There were a few rifle-shots fired at fugitives on the banks, but theobject of the gunboat's crew was more to scatter the savage miscreantsthan to add to their destruction; for the commander on board wassatisfied with the blow at the pirates' power, and he said sohalf-an-hour later, when his vessel had steamed back and was moored tothe wharf.
He had landed to
inspect the place and congratulate its defenderswarmly.
"As brave a defence as I know of, gentlemen," he said. "And it seems tome that I only just came up in time."
"Only just," said Uncle Jeff; "but we weren't beaten."
"Beaten--up!" said the officer sharply. "You'd have kept the miserablebrutes off, but I'm afraid that the fire would have been rather toomuch--eh?"
"Yes," said Uncle Jeff; "we should have had to strike our colours tothat. But there I don't talk about it. We've had an awful escape."
"You have, and no mistake. Here! come on board and have a wash whilesomething to eat is made ready."
"A wash!" cried Stan. "Oh yes.--I say, uncle, you look awful."
"Do I, my boy? Humph!--I say, captain, do you carry a pocket-mirror?"
"No; but there's a looking-glass or two in the cabins. Do you want toshave?"
"What! cut off my growing beard?" said Uncle Jeff fiercely. "No, nor myhead either. I wanted my nephew to see his face."
"My face?" cried Stan, colouring invisibly--that is to say, the red washidden by the black. "Is it very bad?"
He glanced at Blunt as he spoke.
"Well," was the reply, "did you ever see a sweep?"
The hospitality on board the gunboat embraced the attentions of a doctoras well as refreshments, and he had a busy hour with cuts and burnsbefore the night closed in, with sailors to keep the watch over thosewho slept the sleep of utter exhaustion; though ward was needless, forthe remnants of the piratical gang were scattered far and wide,completely crushed.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
"SUPPOSE WE LEAVE THEM THERE."
Month later the people at the _hong_ had repaired all damages, and paintand varnish had hidden unpleasantly suggestive marks; while in twomonths the loss was almost forgotten in the increase of trade consequentupon the peace existing in the district, maintained by an occasionalvisit of the gunboat upon the station, ready always to quench everypiratical spark that appeared.
At first Stan had declared that he should never be able to feel settledup the river; but he did, for there was always something animated andnew about the station to which the peaceful traders flocked, knowing asthey did that all transactions with the English merchants meant perfectfaith and nothing akin to dealings with the squeezing mandarins. Infact, the lad began to think that his busy life to and fro was, afterall, one of the most happy, and that he might pick out his father anduncle as fine specimens of what English merchants might be.
"I begin to think, Uncle Jeff," he said one day, "that a young fellowmight do worse than become a merchant out here."
"Well, yes," said Uncle Jeff, with a smile; "he might--yes, certainly hemight."
It was one evening when Uncle Jeff, Blunt, and Stan were talking overthe old trouble of the past--that is to say, about the traitor in thecamp.
"Well, for my part," said Uncle Jeff, "I give all my votes--plumpers--for poor old Wing. He never tried to destroy the ammunition. He's trueas steel."
"I second that," said Blunt.--"Now, Lynn, what do you say?"
"That it's cruel to the poor fellow even to think of such a thing. I'dtrust him anywhere."
"Same here," said Uncle Jeff.
"Same here," said Blunt. "It must have been one of those fellows whohad charge of the water-casks, but which we shall never know, for theywill not split upon one another. Anyhow, they've fought well for us,and the only thing to be done is to let the matter drop."
"As far as we can," said Uncle Jeff very gravely. "It's a seriousthing, though."
"Very," replied Blunt; "and I've dwelt upon it time after time, till myhead has been all in a whirl. You see, it was just when I was at myworst, and I can remember in my half-delirious state being in a terriblefright lest one of those stink-pots should come in, roll down thestairs, and then go bounding down and reach the magazine. It was like anightmare to me.--And you remember, Stan, that, bad though I was, I sentWing up to tell you of the need for being careful."
"Oh yes, I remember," said Stan.
"And even then I didn't feel at rest," continued Blunt, talking quickly,and seeming as if every incident connected with the first attack hadcome vividly back to his mind. "It was horrible, and what with thetorture of my wound and that caused by anxiety lest any accident shouldhappen to the powder, I felt as if I didn't know what I was about. Nowit was the wound, and now it was my head, and altogether it was like aterrible dream, all worry and bewildering excitement, till the pain andfeverishness of my hurt were as nothing to the agony and dread lest theplace should be blown up. It was then that I felt that something moremust be done or the place would go, and I sent Wing to warn you, Lynn."
"Yes; of course. I thought that you must be in a great state offidget--and no wonder."
"Fidget doesn't express it, Lynn. I was--Bless me! How strange!How--"
Blunt stopped short, looking in a bewildered way from one to the other,and ending by clapping his hand to his forehead and holding it there.
"What's the matter, Blunt?" said Uncle Jeff quietly.
"Nothing--nothing--only it seems so strange--so queer. My head--myhead!"
"Lie back in that chair.--Stan, fill a glass with water."
"No, no; nonsense!" cried Blunt impatiently. "I'm all right now, onlyit's my head. So strange!"
"Yes; you've been talking a little too much. You see, you are stillweak."
"Rubbish!" cried Blunt angrily. "You don't understand. It's my head.Something seems to have broken or fallen there so that I can see quiteclearly."
"Drink that water," said Uncle Jeff sternly; and in obedience to thecommand the manager took the glass Stan handed to him, drained it, andset it down.
"Refreshing?"
"Yes, very.--But how strange!"
"Is it?" said Uncle Jeff quietly.
"Yes. It's almost awful," said Blunt excitedly. "Only a little whileago."
"Here, I say, hadn't you better leave off talking?" said Uncle Jeffgruffly.
"Lie down on the mats for a few minutes," said Stan. "I'll roll one upfor a pillow."
"Absurd!" cried Blunt. "You two are fancying that I am ill, whensomething that has been clogging my brain has broken or been sweptaway--I can't tell which; I only know that I'm quite well again oncemore, and see everything clearly in connection with that business. Iremember--Yes: that's it."
Stan glanced at Uncle Jeff, who frowned and looked puzzled as to whatwas best to be done. In his eyes the manager was going quite off hishead.
For Blunt had begun to pace the office rapidly, and went on muttering tohimself as he gazed straight before him, ending by stopping short at theoffice table and bringing one hand down with a heavy bang which made theink leap in the stand.
"Have another glass of water," said Uncle Jeff; and Stan started to getit, but stopped short.
"Don't run away, Lynn," cried Blunt. "This is interesting. How somedoctors would like to know! It has all come back now, but I must havebeen off my head or I shouldn't have acted so, of course. Half-an-hourago I didn't know I had done it, but I do know now. Talking about thematter seems to have cleared away the last of the mental cobwebs thathave been worrying me."
"Yes, yes, yes," said Uncle Jeff impatiently; "but you really had betterhave a nap."
Blunt smiled as he looked at the speaker.
"You think I'm a little queer still," he said.
"Oh no," replied Uncle Jeff; "only tired and over-excited."
"Not a bit," replied Blunt, "I'm all right, I tell you, and I can seeclearly now how that trouble came about the cartridges being wet."
"Indeed!" said Uncle Jeff. "Well, how did it come about?"
"I drowned them with water, of course."
"You did?" said Stan, staring. "Nonsense!"
"Yes, nonsense!" said Uncle Jeff. "You wouldn't have done such a thingas that!"
"If I had been in my senses--no. But I was not. I was wildly excitedand delirious from my wound, and there was that idea pressing u
pon methat one of the stink-pots would roll down blazing from the upper floorand explode the cartridges. It was while I was more sane that I sentWing to you, Lynn, with that message, but as soon as he had gone thetrouble increased. I felt that he would not get there in time, and Igot up and went round to the back of the warehouse, picked up one of thebuckets of water, and while the men in charge of the casks were on thestairs watching you and the others keeping up the firing, I poured thewater into the last case of cartridges, chuckling to myself at mycleverness, and saying that there was no fear now."
"You laughed and said that?" cried Stan sceptically.
"I did. I remember it perfectly now, even to my feeling of satisfactionat having saved the place from all risk of destruction in that way.Yes, and I can remember lying down again and shutting my eyes because Iheard Wing coming. Yes, there it all is, as plain as if I were lookingat myself now. I can remember, too, the feeling of rest and contentthat came, and with it the return of the throbbing pain, till I faintedor fell asleep, to wake with my mind quite blank, knowing nothingwhatever of my acts, and being ready to join in accusing poor old Wing.But there! it was the act of a man quite off his head, doing about asdouble-edged an act as was ever committed. Queer--eh, Lynn?"
"Queer? Well, I don't know what to call it," said Stan, "but I hopeyou'll never do such a thing again."
"I promise you I will not so long as I escape being shot through theshoulder," said Blunt, smiling; "but if I am wounded like that I willnot answer for the consequences."
Suppose we leave them there.
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