Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
A Chinese Command, A Story of Adventure in Eastern Seas, by Harry
Collingwood.
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We have two confessions to make before we tell you about the story. The
first is to say that there are two missing pages from the copy of the
book we used, 223 and 224, the last two pages of chapter 14, rather an
exciting moment in the story. We shall try to get photocopies of these
pages, but it will take time.
The second one will make you laugh: The Chinese Admiral Wong-Li, who
plays a big part in the book, was always being read by the audiobook
program as "wong fifty one". No doubt you can see why. So I changed
his name, with apologies, to Wong-lih, thus restoring the correct
pronunciation, and not making a huge difference to the story.
Frobisher is a cashiered Royal Navy ex-officer. He is approached to
run some arms to the rebels in Korea, and thus make his fortune. This
fails, and the arms get into the hands of the legitimate government.
After some vicissitudes he finds himself in China, and talking to the
above admiral, who offers him the command of a battleship, with the
prospect of taking part in a war against Japan. He does this but loses
his ship in a storm towards the end of the book. Meanwhile he has
found the lost millions hidden away by Genghiz Khan many centuries
beforehand. He has no hesitation in purloining these, and eventually
on getting back to England, buying his way back into grace by presenting
the nation with a number of brand-new battleships, for which bit of
sleaze he is given a baronetcy, and restored to the Navy List.
It makes a good audiobook. NH.
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A CHINESE COMMAND, A STORY OF ADVENTURE IN EASTERN SEAS, BY HARRY
COLLINGWOOD.
CHAPTER ONE.
THE OUTCAST.
A furious gust of wind tore down the chimney, blowing the smoke out into
the small but cosily-furnished sitting-room of the little cottage at
Kingston-on-Thames, and sending a shower of sparks hissing and
spluttering on to the hearth-rug, where they were promptly trodden out
by a tall, fair-haired young giant, who lazily removed his feet from a
chair on which they reposed, for the purpose.
This operation concluded, he replaced his feet on the chair with
deliberation, re-arranged a cushion behind his head, leaned back
luxuriously, and started hunting in his pocket for matches wherewith to
light his pipe, which had gone out.
"Beastly night for a dog to be out, much more a human being," he
soliloquised. "Poor old Murray's sure to be drenched when he gets back,
as well as frozen to the bone. Let's see--is everything ready for him?
Yes, there are his slippers warming before the fire--hope none of those
sparks burnt a hole in 'em--likewise dry coat, shirt, and trousers; that
ought to do him all right. I hope to goodness the poor old chap's got
some encouragement to-day, if nothing else, for he's fearfully down on
his luck, and no mistake. And, between me and those fire-irons there,
I'm getting almost afraid to let him out of my sight, for fear he'll go
and do something foolish--though, to be sure, he's hardly that kind of
fellow, when one comes to think of it. However, he should be in very
soon now, and then I, shall learn the news."
Having delivered himself of this monologue, Dick Penryn lit his pipe,
took up the book he had been reading, and was soon deep in the pages of
Theophile Gautier's _Voyage en l'Orient_.
Dick Penryn and Murray Frobisher, the friend to whom he had been
alluding, were chums of many years' standing. They had been born within
a few months of one another--Frobisher being slightly the elder--in the
same Devon village; had attended the same school in Plymouth--Mannamead
House, to be exact; had gone to the same college together, and had
passed into the British Navy within a year of one another--Frobisher
being again first in the race.
Then, for some years, fortune smiled upon both. Each won golden
opinions from his superiors; and by the time that the lads were
twenty-three years of age they had attained the rank of lieutenant, and
showed signs of rising rapidly in the service.
Everything was going splendidly, and both Dick and Murray were enjoying
temporary rank as commanders of torpedo-boats during the winter
manoeuvres of 1891-92, when suddenly, without any warning, Fate turned
her face away from one of the chums and plunged him from the pinnacle of
light-hearted happiness to the depths of misery and despair.
One evening, while a portion of the defending fleet was lying in
Portland Roads waiting to be joined by the other division, news was
brought in by one of the scouting destroyers that the attacking fleet
had been seen at the entrance to the Channel, steering a course which
undoubtedly had Portland as its objective. If that naval base was to be
"saved", it was urgently necessary to send eastward in haste to
Portsmouth, to bring up the other half of the defending squadron;
otherwise the attackers would have things all their own way, and the
south-west coast of England would lie at the mercy of the "enemy."
The destroyer _Spitfire_, which had just brought the news, would
naturally have been selected to carry the message under ordinary
circumstances--one of the rules of the game being that the telegraph
might not be used by either side; but unfortunately, while still a
considerable distance from Portland, she had commenced to run short of
coal, being obliged to steam at half-speed for a number of hours, and
finally arrived in the harbour on the sweepings of her bunkers. Hence
there was greater need for haste than ever; and, as it would have taken
longer to re-bunker the _Spitfire_ than for T.B. 42, Murray's ship, to
raise steam, the young commander was sent for in hot haste by his
admiral, hurriedly given his instructions, and told to raise steam and
make for Portsmouth with the news in "something less than a pig's
whisper."
Delighted at receiving this important commission, Murray Frobisher had
hurried back to his little ship, helped the astonished stokers with his
own hands to raise steam, and at midnight on a dark, blustering night,
with half a gale blowing from the south-east, the sea running steeply,
and a heavy driving rain lashing right in their faces, he and his little
crew cleared from Portland Roads, dashed across Weymouth Bay at a
reckless speed--considering the height of the sea--and doubled Saint
Alban's Head.
Murray found that the storm in the bay was a mere trifle compared with
that which he was now facing; so, for safety's sake, and to avoid being
blown ashore, he was compelled to stand off the coast a good deal
farther than he had originally intended. He knew that he was in a
position of some danger, and, besides being himself additionally on the
alert, he posted an extra look-out, with orders to keep his eyes wide
open for the first signs of light or loom of moving ship upon that
black, rushing waste of water.
T.B. 42 was behaving splendidly, and Murray was just congratulating
himself that, in spite of the violence of the wind, his little craft was
fighting her way to her destination at a good honest twelve knots an
hour, when, with a shriek like that of a thousand warlocks, the wind and
sleet whirled down in a burst of vicious fury that struck the boat like
a solid wall, rendering it a matter of physical impossibility for any
human being to face it until after its first violence was exhausted.
It was during those few fateful moments that the catastrophe occurred.
As the gust veered away astern, and the breathless, half-frozen seamen
on deck were again able to direct their eyes ahead, there came a wild
cry from the look-out forward of: "Port your helm, sir; port your helm!"
followed, before Murray could spring to the assistance of the
quartermaster at the wheel, by a splintering crash, the rending sound of
steel rasping through steel. Then the little craft heeled over to
starboard, until Murray felt himself sliding bodily down the steeply
inclined deck towards the sea; while above, right over his head, as it
seemed, he could dimly perceive the outline of a great, towering metal
stem that still surged and sawed onward and over Number 42, relentless
as fate itself.
A second later, and the catastrophe was complete. The colliding steamer
lifted with the 'scend of the waves and crashed down yet again upon the
hapless torpedo-boat, and young Frobisher found himself in the raging
sea, clinging instinctively to something--he knew not what--that had
come away in his hands as he flung them out wildly to prevent himself
from sliding off the deck. As his head appeared above the brine after
the plunge, he heard certain dreadful cries which he never forgot as
long as he lived. They were the death shrieks of his unhappy crew,
imprisoned below among the bursting steam-pipes and boilers, the cascade
of white-hot coals from the furnaces, and the crumpling wreckage of
machinery and torn plates; and he knew that his trim little ship and his
gallant comrades were gone from him for ever.
As it happened, those on the look-out on board the liner, with the storm
behind them and their eyes consequently clear, had seen the boat at the
instant when the collision had become inevitable; and the captain had
promptly rung his engines astern, brought his ship to a standstill, and
lowered his boats in an endeavour to rescue the survivors. But the only
person rescued was the unfortunate Murray himself, and even he was
hauled on board more dead than alive, grieving that it had not been his
lot to share the fate of his crew.
Upon his recovery he was called upon to face a court martial for the
loss of his ship; and--strange were the ways of the Judge-Advocate--was
dismissed that Service which, confronted by a less-harsh officer, he
might have remained to honour. And since that miserable moment the
unhappy man had been living upon his slender savings, endeavouring
meanwhile to obtain employment of any sort that would keep the wolf from
the door.
At the moment when this story opens, Murray Frobisher was down to his
last few sovereigns, and had therefore been unfeignedly glad to accept
the invitation of kind-hearted Dick Penryn, his former comrade-in-arms,
to share the cottage at Kingston where, having no ties of any kind, that
young gentleman was staying during his spell of shore leave. And it was
Murray whom Penryn was momentarily expecting on this stormy, cold, and
dismal evening in March, 1893, just a year after the catastrophe in the
Channel which had ruined his career in the British Navy, and all but
broken his heart.
Dick Penryn had scarcely finished another page of his very fascinating
book when he heard the front door of the cottage open. A furious gust
of wind tore through the little house for a moment, causing even the
occupant of the easy chair to shiver in sympathy with his friend; and
then the door was shut with a slam, and he heard Murray Frobisher's
well-known footsteps ascending the stairs. But there was not the former
light-hearted spring in them. Murray was coming upstairs slowly and
heavily, like a man carrying a ponderous burden, and Dick heaved a sharp
sigh as he murmured to himself, "No luck again to-day, evidently; else
_we_ should have had Murray coming up here full steam ahead. Poor old
boy! I wonder what on earth will happen to him if he doesn't get a
berth soon? A man can't go on like this for ever without losing heart;
and there are already signs that the boy is beginning to lose hope. I
wish to Heaven there was something I could do for him; but unfortunately
I have not a particle of influence; I am absolutely powerless."
At this moment the door of the little room opened, and Murray stood
framed in the opening, looking at his friend with an expression in which
weariness, disappointment, and a certain suggestion of relief were
curiously blended. If Dick Penryn was what some people were in the
habit of calling a giant, then Murray Frobisher could only be considered
gigantic. Standing fully six feet four inches in his boots, broad in
proportion, weighing fully sixteen stone, with dark, olive complexion
bronzed almost to the shade of an Arab's by exposure to the weather, and
with clean-shaven cheeks and lips, and close-cropped, wavy black hair,
the man was a truly magnificent specimen of humanity, compelling the
attention of all with whom he came in contact.
"So you're back at last, Murray," shouted Penryn, leaping out of his
chair, and speaking more cheerfully than he felt that the occasion
warranted. "Come inside, man; come inside! Don't stand there in the
doorway letting in all the draught; goodness knows it's cold enough
without that!" And as Murray closed the door behind him, and slowly
pulled forward a chair to the fire, he proceeded: "And what's the news
to-day, old man? Any luck of any sort; or has it been the usual style
of things--offer your services and have them declined with, or without,
thanks?"
"Well," answered Murray in his deep bass tones, stretching out his
half-frozen hands to the blaze, "I hardly know what to think about
to-day. It certainly has been a little different from the usual run of
things, but not very much. During the whole of the morning, and for the
better part of the afternoon, luck was dead against me, as usual. Then,
about four o'clock, there came just one little ray of light to brighten
the darkness."
"Capital!" broke in Dick, cheerfully. "Every little helps, you know.
Straws show which way the wind blows, and all the rest of it. Tell us
about this ray of light of yours."
"Well," answered Frobisher, with a wry smile, "I don't know that it was
very much of a ray, after all; but I'll tell you what happened. I had
been running up and down office stairs from before nine o'clock until
about three in the afternoon, without result, and I became heartily sick
of it; and just by way of a change, I made up my mind to take a run down
to the docks and see whether there was anything doing there.
"I got down at about three-thirty, and, feeling pretty hungry--for I had
had nothing to eat since breakfast--I went into a small place within
hail of the dock gates, and asked for some bread and cheese and beer.
The landlady, a kindly old soul, seeing, I suppose, that I looked cold,
and as though I could do with a rest, showed me into a little sanctum
labelled _Captains' Room_, where, I was glad to see, there blazed a fine
big fire, before which stood two or three very cosy-looking arm-chairs.
"Throwing myself into one, I began to discuss my frugal luncheon with
considerable appetite, and had nearly finished when the door opened, and
in came the most curious-looking little man I have ever set eyes on.
That he was a seaman was perfectly apparent to the meanest intelligence,
and I at once set him down as the first officer--as they call themselves
nowadays--or perhaps even the skipper, of a tramp steamer. He was
certainly not more than five feet in height, but his breadth of shoulder
and depth of chest were so enormous as to amount, literally, to a
deformity; and I should judge that his strength must be herculean, as
the novelists say. He was bronzed to the colour of deep mahogany, and
had a heavy black moustache and a beard which grew right up to his
eyes--deep-set, black, and as brilliant as diamonds. Added to this he
wore gold ear-rings, and, altogether, was as like my conception of one
of the pirates of old, about whom we used to read in our young days, as
any man possibly could be.
"From the moment the man entered the room I began to feel deeply
interested in him, and could scarcely refrain from staring at him
openly. `Here,' I said to myself, `is a personality; a man who has
knocked about the world during most of his life; a man who has seen
things and done things, some of which, probably, would not bear too
close scrutiny.' For he gave me the impression of being a person who
would make a good, stanch friend, but who would prove to be a thoroughly
bad and dangerous enemy.
"Apparently he was a bit surprised to find anybody else in the captains'
sanctum at that time of day; and, after the first hasty glance, it
seemed as though he, too, was taking more than usual interest in your
humble servant; for every time I raised my eyes to take a quiet look at
him, I found his black, glittering orbs fixed on me, with that curious,
unblinking stare that you may have noticed among certain species of
birds. Seriously, Dick, I can tell you that he kept this staring
business up so long that I was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable,
and had made up my mind to finish my meal as soon as possible and
continue my journey down to the docks, when I heard him give vent to a
kind of grunt, which might have expressed satisfaction, dissatisfaction,
disgust, or any other feeling for aught I could judge.
"Then, taking his eyes off me, this curious customer tugged the bell and
ordered the servant to bring him a glass of `rum hot', and a bit of cold
meat and bread; from which, when it arrived, he began to make a meal,
eating as though it were the first time he had touched food for several
days. Indeed, he ate so fast and so wolfishly, that by the time I had
finished my own meal, and had rung the bell for the bill, my piratical
friend was also pushing away his plate with a sigh of satisfaction, and
asking for his bill. Both reckonings having been paid, I was on the
point of leaving the room when the stranger, whose name I afterwards
learned was Drake--a quite appropriate name, I thought, for such a
freebooter-looking character--put out a great, hairy paw as though to
prevent me, and remarked, in a deep, rumbling voice:--
"`One moment, young gentleman. Unless you are in a great hurry I'd like
to have a word or two with you.'
"Naturally, Dick, I was a little astonished," proceeded Murray, "but I
must confess that I had become vastly interested in the little man, and,
as offers of employment sometimes come from the most unlikely sources,
like a drowning man clutching at a straw I determined to hear what he
had to say. Possibly it might lead to something; and in any case I felt
that I should do no harm by listening to him.
"`I think I can spare you a few minutes,' I remarked. `What is it you
wish to see me about?'
"`You're a seaman, aren't you?' he said, answering my question with
another.
"`Yes,' I replied, `I am.'
"`Navy man, too, unless I'm much mistaken,' was his next remark.
"`Well,' I said, rather hesitatingly, `I was a Navy man--a lieutenant--
not so very long ago, but I had the misfortune to lose my ship under
circumstances for which, I must say, in justice to myself, I think I was
hardly to blame. However, the members of the court martial took a
different view of the case, and I was, to put it bluntly, dismissed the
Service. Since then I have been looking out for other employment--
something in my own line, if possible; but if not, then anything that I
can lay my hands on. But so far, I am sorry to say, I have met with
nothing but rebuffs. Nobody on the face of this earth appears to need a
man with my qualifications just now.'
"`Ha, ha!' chuckled the little man, rubbing his hands gleefully. `Just
as I thought when I first set eyes on you. Here, says I to myself, is a
seaman, sure enough--I could tell that at the first glance--a Navy man,
too, by the way he carries himself, and no longer in the Service by the
general--er--um--not on active duty at the moment, I mean to say,' he
ended, rather lamely, with an apologetic cough.
"I felt myself going red round the ears, Dick, and might have been
inclined to be angry had anyone else spoken thus. But there was
something about my little pirate that assured me he did not in the least
intend to be offensive, so I only laughed, rather ruefully. If my
`out-of-work' condition was so apparent as to be noted by even a common
seaman, it was no wonder, I told myself, that I so often came out of
private offices with the words, `Nothing to suit you, I'm afraid, Mr
Frobisher', ringing in my ears.
"`Well,' I said, `granted that I am an ex-naval officer looking for a
job, what bearing has that upon your business with me? For I suppose
you must have some idea that you and I can do business together, since
you started the conversation.'
"`What bearing?' he repeated. `Well, I'll just tell you. As it
happens, I'm looking at this moment for exactly such a man as you appear
to be. My name's Drake--Captain John Drake, of the tramp steamer
_Quernmore_, two thousand five hundred and sixty tons register, to be
exact--and, from what you've just said, I think I could make a pretty
good shot at your tally. Should I be very far wrong if I said that you
were ex-lieutenant Murray Frobisher?'
"`On the contrary,' I answered, `you would have hit the bull's-eye dead
in the centre.'
"`I was certain of it,' he smiled; `and again I say, more emphatically
than ever, that you're the very man I'm looking for. If you'll take
that chair and pull up to the fire, I'll take the other and we'll have a
bit of a palaver.'
"Having seated ourselves comfortably, Drake at once proceeded:--
"`I may tell you, Mr Frobisher, that for the past twenty years I have
been captain of this same steamer, trading between eastern ports all the
while; and as this is the first time I have been back to old England
during the whole of that period, I don't think I'm very far wrong in
saying that I know as much about the East as any man living--perhaps a
good deal more. And there's not very much going on out there that I
don't know about. Sometimes, even, I get to know about things before
they begin to happen, and am able to make my plans and put a little
money in my pocket thereby.
"`This is one of the occasions upon which I have managed to get wind of
something in advance, and in this case also I can see my way to making
quite a nice little pile of money. First of all, however, I must ask
you to pledge your word that, if after I have told you my plans you
don't feel inclined to come in with me, you'll do nothing to upset those
plans in any way whatever.'
"I gave him the required promise, perhaps just a little too readily, and
Drake resumed his story.
"`It so happens that my last port of call was--well--a small seaport in
Korea; and, while there, I heard some news that made me sit up and take
notice, as the Yankees say. It seems that, for some time past, the
Government of Korea has been playing some very hanky-panky games: taxing
the people until the burden has become unbearable; punishing the
smallest offences with death by torture; confiscating the goods and
money of every man who dared to allow himself a few more luxuries than
his neighbours; and, in short, playing the very mischief all round.
Naturally, even the mildest-mannered worm will turn under too much of
that kind of thing, and the average Korean is anything but
mild-mannered; so that, a little while ago, a party of officials decided
that they had had quite enough of it, and proceeded quietly and
methodically to foment a rebellion against the Government.
"`When I left Korea, things were very nearly ripe for the outbreak; but
it would have been suicidal folly for the rebels to have attempted
anything of the kind without proper arms to back it up, for the Korean
soldiery are naturally on the side from which they draw their pay--that
is to say, the side of the Government--and they also happen to be
particularly well armed just now. It was therefore necessary for the
would-be rebels to procure weapons before any successful revolt could be
undertaken, and one day I was interviewed by one of the officials on the
subject of supplying the rebel army with modern rifles.
"`To make a rather long story short, the upshot of the interview was
that I was commissioned to supply the rebels with one hundred thousand
rifles, with the necessary ammunition, at a price which, if the venture
is successful, will make it possible for me to give up the sea
altogether and live ashore at my ease.'
"`Yes, yes,' I interrupted, rather impatiently; `this is interesting
enough in its way, Captain, but I fail to see where it concerns me.'
"`I was just coming to that,' returned Drake, `when you interrupted me.
I was unfortunate enough to lose my chief officer overboard in a
hurricane in the Indian Ocean on the way home--a circumstance which
upset me and my plans very considerably, for he was a fine seaman, had
been with me many years, and knew all my little ways. In order to bring
off this venture successfully, I must replace him, for there will be
difficult and dangerous work ahead; and I need a man as much like my old
chief as possible, a man who is willing to go anywhere and do anything;
a man who has the brains to organise, and the muscle and courage to keep
his own end up in a fight.
"`I have often heard of you, Mr Frobisher, as being just that kind of
man; and I followed the whole account of your misfortune and the
proceedings of the court martial in the newspapers. When I learned that
they had dismissed you from the Service, I considered it a most shocking
error of judgment, and told myself that, had you been in my employ, you
would not have been so harshly treated. I would have liked at the time
to make a try to secure your services, but I had my own chief officer
with me then, and consequently had nothing to offer you. But now things
are different. You need employment; I need your services, and am
prepared to pay you well for them and give you a share of the profits.
One of the conditions attaching to my contract is that I deliver the
rifles and ammunition into the hands of the rebel officers at--at a
small town a considerable distance inland from the coast; and as I
cannot leave my ship, the duty of conveying the cargo inland would
devolve upon you. This is where the dangerous part of the business
comes in, and I shall make allowance therefore in the rate of pay I
propose to offer you.
"`If you will join me--to get down to hard facts--I will give you forty
pounds a month, from the day you sign on with me until you leave the
ship on her return to England, or until you leave her out in the East,
if you care to do that. There are plenty of chances for such a man as
yourself out there. And, in addition, I agree to give you a share of
one-twentieth of my profits, which I estimate should amount to about
twenty thousand pounds sterling. Therefore, one thousand pounds, over
and above your pay, will be your share of the enterprise. Now, I've
said all I have to say; I've put the proposition before you; I've told
you that it's likely to be both profitable and dangerous: what do you
say to joining me as my chief officer?'
"I tell you, Dick, I was too amazed to reply for a few moments, and my
brain was in such a whirl that all I could presently say was that I
would think the thing over, and meet him again at the same place
to-morrow to give him a reply. The money part of the business naturally
appeals very strongly to one, but the amount seems almost too good to be
true. There would be at least six months' pay at forty pounds a month,
and a thousand on top of that, if the expedition should prove
successful; so that, all being well, I should have a little capital in
my hands to work with at the end of that time, and might be able so to
invest it as to make myself independent, for the remainder of my life,
of anything like the experiences of this past year.
"On the other hand, I am inclined to look a little doubtfully upon this
gun-running, or smuggling, business. It is all utterly at variance with
Navy traditions; and I would rather starve than set my hand to anything
that has even the appearance of being in the least degree dishonest.
Still, I am bound to say that, from all I can learn, it looks as though
the Korean rebels have a genuine grievance, and that the country might
be all the better for a drastic change of government; so that I am
really very undecided what to do, Dick. One thing is certain--I must
get employment of some kind; and if you are seriously of opinion that I
can accept Drake's offer without soiling my hands I shall most certainly
do so. I have considered the matter pretty thoroughly myself on the way
home, and, to tell the truth, I have almost persuaded myself that I may
accept."
Dick Penryn, who during this narrative had been leaning back in his
chair smoking, and listening attentively, took his pipe from his mouth,
tapped the ashes out slowly and thoughtfully against the bars of the
grate, and sat up straight. Then, after a lengthy pause, he delivered
judgment.
"Well, Murray," he said, "I've listened most attentively to your yarn,
and I've been trying to look at the matter from an unprejudiced and
independent standpoint. Of course, as you very truthfully say, anything
in the nature of gun-running or smuggling is totally opposed to all our
Navy traditions. At the same time, you are, unfortunately, no longer in
the Navy; to all intents and purposes you are now a private individual,
at liberty to take up any calling, profession, trade, or whatever you
care to term it, that offers you a chance to make a living. Employment
of some sort you certainly must have; and so long as that employment is
honest--I might almost say in your particular case, so long as it is not
_dis_honest--I think you will be wise to take the first thing that
offers.
"You have been out of harness for over a year now, and your ready cash
must be running pretty low, I should think; besides, this is the first
offer that has come your way since you left the Navy, and if you do not
accept it while you have the opportunity, it may perhaps be another year
or more before you are given another chance. Personally, I do not see
anything wrong with Drake's proposal. It is a purely business
enterprise. Certain folk require certain goods, and Drake contracts to
supply them. In order to carry out his agreement he needs your help,
and is willing to pay very handsomely for it; so my advice to you, my
son, is that you take what is offered, and be thankful. Of course I
need not say that if the arms had been intended for any country at war,
or likely at any time to be at war, with England, such a thing would be
absolutely impossible for you to contemplate for a moment; but as things
are--well, I have no hesitation in saying that under similar
circumstances my conscience would not worry me very much."
At this very clear and definite expression of opinion, Frobisher's
anxious expression vanished. He had evidently been a little afraid that
his friend might not look altogether favourably on the scheme; and he
was not so deeply in love with it himself that he would have felt
inclined to follow it up had Dick voted against it or pronounced it of
too "shady" a character for a gentleman to meddle with. But since
Dick's views coincided so completely with his own, he felt that there
could be no longer any room for hesitation.
"I'm glad indeed to hear you say that, Dick," he exclaimed, jumping up.
"It decides me absolutely. Tomorrow I'll run down to the docks, see
Drake on board the _Quernmore_ instead of waiting to meet him at the
hotel as I had arranged, and tell him I have decided to accept his
offer. I would go down to-night if it were not so late; for now that
I've made up my mind I should feel pretty bad if meanwhile he happened
to meet someone else who had not so many scruples as myself, and who
needed a job badly enough to accept the opening on the spot, without
taking time to think it over.
"However, I don't think Drake will interview anybody else until he has
had my answer, for he certainly seemed anxious enough to secure my
particular services; so I'll hope for the best and leave things in the
hands of fate. And now, Dick," he went on, passing his hand across his
forehead, "I've had a long tiring day, and have a rather bad headache
into the bargain; so, if you don't mind, I think I'll toddle up to bed
and get to sleep; for I want to be up early in the morning. Good night,
old man!"
"Good night, Murray, my hearty!" replied his friend. "I hope you'll
sleep well, and have pleasant dreams. You ought to, after this piece of
good luck. By the way, when does Drake want you to go aboard?"
"Oh, to be sure; I quite forgot to mention that. He told me that if I
decided to join him he would require me to be on board as soon as I
possibly could. Indeed, he hinted that if I could make it convenient to
turn up tomorrow evening and sleep aboard the ship, he would be more
than pleased. You see, he has his cargo pretty nearly loaded, and hopes
to be able to get away at midday the day after to-morrow; so the sooner
I am on board the sooner I shall be able to take some of the worry and
trouble and work off his shoulders."
"Great Scot!" exclaimed Dick, jumping up, "he wants you to join as soon
as that! Why, I fully expected that you wouldn't be leaving under a
week at the least. So to-night will be your last sleep in the old bed,
for some months to come, at any rate--for I want you to make this place
your home again as soon as ever you return. Make the most of it,
therefore. You don't know where you may have to lie, in what queer
places you may have to sleep, before you get back. Well, I suppose I'll
see you in the morning at breakfast; and at any rate you'll be back here
after you've interviewed Drake, in order to pack your traps, say
good-bye, and so on?"
"Yes, you'll see me at breakfast, Dick; and I shall be back as soon as
possible after I have seen the skipper, to pack and to say good-bye. By
gad, Dick!" he went on, with a little burst of emotion, "but I'm more
than sorry to have to leave you. You've been a mighty good chum to me,
and as long as I live I'll never forget your kindness. I wish to
goodness you were coming along too."
"So do I, old chap," answered Penryn, gripping his friend's hand; "but
as to `goodness' and `kindness' to you, and all the rest of it--why,
that's all rot, you know. Any man would do the same for his pal."
"Not every man, Dick," returned Murray, soberly. "If you only knew it,
there are not a great many of your sort knocking about nowadays. Good
night, again, old chap."
Frobisher slept well, and was not visited by any dreams, sweet or
otherwise. We are sometimes told that dreams are sent to us as
warnings, as forerunners of events that are to happen to us in the
future; but if this is really true it seems strange that Murray's sleep
should have been so deep and dreamless. For had that young man been
able to foresee but one half of the strange and terrible adventures that
were in store for him, it is scarcely to be doubted that he would, in
spite of his long period of unemployment, have gladly allowed Captain
Drake to take somebody else in his place, notwithstanding the offer of
the forty pounds a month salary, and the thousand-pound bonus at the
successful termination of the venture.
CHAPTER TWO.
EASTWARD HO!
So soundly and dreamlessly did Frobisher sleep that he did not wake
until the clear notes of the dressing bugle--a solemn farce which Dick
insisted upon his servant performing when ashore--had almost finished
ringing through the little cottage.
Punctually at 8 a.m. the old marine who acted as Dick's servant when he
was ashore, and as general housekeeper and caretaker when he was afloat,
sounded the bugle as a signal to his master that it was time to turn
out; and the neighbours in the houses round about--who, by the way,
referred to Penryn as "that very eccentric young man"--had come to look
upon the instrument somewhat in the light of a town clock; so much so
that several of them set their watches by it, and one old gentleman was
in the habit of leaving his front door and sprinting for the
eight-fifteen train to town punctually upon the first note.
Frobisher sat up in bed with a yawn, and was half-way to the bath-room
before he was sufficiently wideawake to recollect that this morning was
different from the three hundred and sixty-five odd preceding mornings.
But as he remembered that at last he had secured the offer of regular
and profitable employment--although not quite along the lines he had
hoped for--he let out a whoop of rejoicing that made the cottage ring.
Having completed his toilet, Frobisher came downstairs whistling, to
find Penryn standing in front of the fire, warming his coat tails and
sniffing hungrily, while from the direction of the kitchen came certain
savoury smells.
"'Morning, Murray!"
"'Morning, Dick!" was the response. "What's for breakfast this
morning?"
"Don't know," answered his friend, "but it smells like eggs and bacon,
and steak and mushrooms, and chops and kidneys on toast. I hope so, at
any rate, for I'm hungry this morning, and feel quite ready for a
snack."
"Snack!" laughed Frobisher. "Is what you have just mentioned your idea
of a snack? It sounds to me more like the menu of an aldermanic
banquet. By the way, I didn't know the parcel-postman had arrived yet;
he's early, isn't he?"
"Oh," replied Dick, turning rather red, "I thought I'd put that away.
No, the postman hasn't been. That's just something I went out for,
early this morning, for--oh--for a friend of mine."
"Sorry, old man," said Murray, "I didn't mean to be inquisitive. By the
way, is there a train to town somewhere about nine or half-past? I
should like to catch it if there is."
"One at nine twenty-three," answered Dick. "You'll catch it easily.
And now, here's Tom with the breakfast; bring yourself to an anchor, and
let's begin. I'm as hungry as a hunter. How about yourself?"
"Rather better than usual this morning," laughed Frobisher. "A little
hope is a splendid thing for giving one an appetite." And with this
remark both the young men fell to with a will.
The meal finished, Frobisher hurried off to catch his train; travelled
up to London; crossed the city; and took another train down to the
docks. Arrived there, he enquired the whereabouts of the steamer
_Quernmore_.
"Over there, sir," a policeman told him, pointing to a spot about two
hundred yards distant; and thither the young man made his way, halting
presently at the shore end of a gangway leading on to the steamer, to
take a good look at the craft that was to be his floating home for so
long a period.
Certainly, he told himself, if one might judge by appearances, Captain
Drake had ample justification for being proud of his steamer; for she
was as pretty a model of a craft as Frobisher, for all his long
experience, had ever set eyes on. Indeed, one would almost have been
excused for assuming that, but for her size, she might have been a
private yacht at some period of her existence. Flush-decked, with a
graceful curving run, a clipper bow with gilt figure-head, and a long,
overhanging counter, the hull painted a particularly pleasing shade of
dark green down to within a couple of feet of the water-line, and
polished black below that, she made a picture completely satisfying to
the eye of the most exacting critic. She was rigged as a topsail
schooner, and her funnel was tall, oval-shaped, and cream-coloured.
Indeed, anything less like the traditional tramp steamer, and more
resembling a gentleman's yacht, it would have been difficult to find.
By the look of her, too, thought Frobisher, she should be able to show a
pretty fair turn of speed, if she were put to it--sixteen knots at the
least, the young lieutenant judged--and the idea occurred to him that
possibly, some time in the future, the lives of her crew might depend
upon those few extra knots of which she appeared capable.
However, it would not do to stand there admiring the ship. "Business
before pleasure," the young man reminded himself; and, involuntarily
straightening himself up as though about to board a man-of-war,
Frobisher marched across the gangway, and asked the first seaman he met
whether Captain Drake was aboard.
"He's in the chart-house at this moment, sir," answered the man; "I'll
take you to him." And a minute later Frobisher found himself ducking
his head in order to get in through the low chart-house door-way.
"Hillo! it's you already, is it?" exclaimed Drake, looking up from a
chart over which he was poring. "I didn't expect to see you until this
afternoon. Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I hope you've come
to tell me that we are to be shipmates for this cruise," he added,
eagerly. "If I can't persuade you to come in with me, I shall be
obliged to sail shorthanded, for I've no time to do any more looking
round now."
"Then you can make your mind easy," laughed Frobisher. "To tell you the
simple truth, I believe I had practically made up my mind to sail with
you before I said good-bye to you yesterday. Yes, I'm coming, skipper;
and I hope, for both our sakes, that the voyage will turn out as
successfully as you desire."
"Good man!" heartily ejaculated the skipper, thrusting out his hand.
"That's the best news I've heard for a long while. Now, where's your
dunnage? I'll show you your room, and you can settle down right away."
"My dunnage isn't down yet, skipper," replied Frobisher, smiling. "I
came down just to tell you what I had decided, intending to go back and
fetch my traps this afternoon."
Drake looked rather blank at hearing this. "That's a pity," he
remarked, thoughtfully, half to himself. Then, addressing Frobisher:
"Well, trot away back, and get them down here as quickly as you can,
will ye? Certain events have happened since I saw you yesterday that
make me anxious to leave at the very earliest moment possible, and I've
already made arrangements to clear directly after I had seen you this
afternoon."
"I'll be off at once, skipper," returned Frobisher, "and be back again
not later than one o'clock." And the young man darted out of the
chart-house, across the gangway, and out of the dock premises like a
sprinter, leaving Drake staring open-mouthed after him.
"He certainly can take a hint quicker than any man I've ever met," said
that worthy, as he resumed the study of his chart.
Two hours later Frobisher was back in Kingston, had packed his
belongings, and was saying good-bye to his old friend, Dick Penryn.
Neither of the men felt very happy at parting, and both, after the
manner of their kind, tried to conceal their real feelings by an
exaggerated show of indifference. Thus it was that their farewells were
brief, almost to curtness, and to the point; and it was only as
Frobisher was actually on the door-step that Dick pushed into his
friend's hands a parcel--the same parcel that had caught Frobisher's eye
that morning. It was heavy, and the recipient could not guess, even
remotely, as to its contents; but he thanked Dick heartily, tucked the
package under his arm, and got into the cab which had been sent for.
One last firm hand-grip, two rather husky good-byes, now that the actual
moment for parting had come, and the pair were separated--one bound for
the far, mysterious East, the other to return in a few days to the ship
he had come to look upon as his real home.
It was with a few minutes in hand that Frobisher leapt out of his cab at
the dock gates, and collected his few belongings. He paid the cabby,
and, with his customary swiftness of movement, turned and started to
trot quickly through the gates towards the _Quernmore_; but as he did
so, he collided violently with another man, causing him to sit down
suddenly on the hard cobbles, while Frobisher himself dropped one of his
portmanteaux.
The fat policeman on duty at the entrance chuckled loudly; Frobisher
laughed and picked up his bag, as he murmured an apology; but the victim
on the cobbles appeared to be saying unpleasant things venomously in
some language quite unfamiliar to the young lieutenant--who knew a good
many--and this caused him to pause an instant and look at the man.
He was a brown, or rather, yellow man; and for a moment Frobisher took
him for a Chinaman. But a second glance convinced the latter that he
did not belong to that nation, nor to the Japanese, although he was
undoubtedly of Eastern extraction.
Murray had no time to waste in conjectures, however, and with a hearty
English "Sorry, old man!" he proceeded to the _Quernmore_, where Drake
himself conducted him to his state-room.
Frobisher would have left his unpacking until the evening, and gone on
duty at once; but Drake informed him that there was no need. All the
cargo was aboard; the crew--specially selected men--were all in the
forecastle; and there was nothing to be done until three o'clock, when
Drake would get his papers, and the tug would arrive to help him out of
the dock. Frobisher therefore unpacked and stowed his things away;
afterwards getting into his first-officer's uniform, which had been
hastily adapted from his own old Navy outfit by the removal of the
shoulder-straps and the "executive curl" from the gold stripes on the
sleeves. He then proceeded to examine the parcel placed in his hands by
Dick Penryn.
Removing the brown paper, he found a square, polished mahogany box,
fastened by two hooks as well as by a lock and key; and, upon opening
the lid, he gave a cry of pleasure and surprise.
Inside were a pair of most business-like large-calibre, blued revolvers,
carrying the heavy .450 cartridge--serviceable weapons indeed, capable
of dropping a man in his tracks at a distance of a hundred yards. In
addition to the weapons themselves, there was a cavity beneath the tray
in which they rested, fitted up to contain exactly one hundred rounds of
ammunition, and it was this--deadly-looking, blunt-nosed bullets in
brass cartridge-cases--that had made the parcel so heavy. With his eyes
snapping with gratification, Frobisher locked away the case in a drawer,
and went out on deck to find Drake.
As he emerged from the companion-way, he saw that the tug was already
alongside; and he immediately ran up on to the bridge, so as to be ready
to carry out any orders that Drake might have for him. But it appeared
that the skipper intended to work his ship out of dock entirely with his
own hands, so Frobisher had a few minutes in which to look round him and
take in, for the last time for several months at any rate, the intimate
sights around him.
The _Quernmore_ was now slowly passing out between the pierheads, and
Frobisher was keeping a sharp look-out to see that none of the crew
attempted a "pierhead jump", when he happened to catch sight of his late
acquaintance of the collision. The man was standing at the extreme end
of the pier, leaning against a bollard, and observing the _Quernmore_
and her crew with a scrutiny so close as to be a little suspicious; and
Murray half-turned to point him out to Drake.
He need not have troubled to do so, however, for he at once perceived
that the skipper was already aware of the man's presence. If looks went
for anything, too, Drake was intensely annoyed; and the thought at once
occurred to Frobisher that the presence of this yellow man might
possibly have had something to do with Drake's sudden resolution to
leave during the early afternoon. He said nothing, however, at the
moment, but continued to stare at the Easterner as long as he could see
him clearly, in order to impress the man's appearance and features
indelibly on his memory. For a presentiment had just seized him that
this man was in some strange way bound up with his own fate, and that
they were destined to meet again under far different circumstances from
those under which they had come together, shortly before, at the dock
gates.
He had not much time or opportunity, however, to dwell at length upon
such matters; for a quarter of an hour later the tug had cast off, the
pilot had taken charge, and the _Quernmore_, under her own steam, was
proceeding rapidly down the winding, traffic-laden river.
They were passing Gravesend when Drake suddenly turned to Frobisher and
remarked:
"I say, Mr Frobisher, did you happen to notice a yellow-skinned chap
standing on the pierhead as we left the dock?"
"Why, yes," replied Frobisher. "That was the second time I'd seen him.
The first time I cannoned into him at the dock gates as I was coming
aboard, and sent him spinning. You should have heard the remarks he
made--though I didn't understand a word he said, but guessed what they
meant by his expression. I believe, if it hadn't been for the bobby at
the gate, the fellow would have tried to knife me, although my running
him down was quite an accident. I saw his hand fly to his waist-belt,
but I didn't stay to argue with him. I didn't like the looks of the
fellow a little bit, and I have a sort of presentiment that we have not
seen the last of him. He seemed to be taking quite a lot of interest in
the _Quernmore_. Of what nationality do you suppose him to be?"