It must not be thought, though, that we were inactive all the time the
pirates were coming nearer after the first warning of their unexpected
approach.
No, on the contrary, we made every preparation, with the means at our
disposal, to receive them with proper respect.
"Begorra, if they'd ownly tould us afore we lift the ould country we'd a
had some big guns, too," said Tim Rooney as he blazed away at a chap
with a red sash on in the prow of the proa, taking aim at him with one
of the Martini-Henry rifles that had been brought up by the captain from
his cabin. "So, me hearties, ye'll have to take the will for the dade,
an' this little lidden messenger, avic, to show as how we aren't
onmindful av ye, sure, an' that there's no ill falin' atwane us!"
Yes, we had made every preparation.
The moment Captain Gillespie was assured that the the pirates--towards
whom he had conceived a deadly hatred, although believing them lost in
the storm that had caught us--were coming again in chase of our
unfortunate ship, he woke up once more into his old animated self, his
nose twisting this way and that as he sniffed and snorted, full of
warlike energy.
"I'll soon teach 'em a lesson," he cried cheerily to Mr Mackay. "When
they tackle Jock Gillespie, they'll find their match; and, ye know, when
I say a thing I mean a thing!"
Thereupon he bounced down the companion, telling Jerrold and me to
follow him; which, as may be supposed, we did with the greatest
alacrity, "Old Jock" not often inviting us to his sanctum.
"Here, lads," he said, emptying out an old arm-chest which was stowed
under his bunk on to the floor, "lend a hand, will ye?"
Of course we did "lend the hand" he requested thus politely in a tone of
command, only too glad to overhaul the stock of weapons tumbled out all
together from the chest.
There were a couple of Martini-Henry rifles, sighted for long ranges;
three old Enfields of the pattern the volunteers used to be supplied
with some years ago; a large bore shot-gun; and a few revolvers of
various sorts--one of the latter making my eyes glisten at the sight of
it, for it was just suited to me, I thought.
The captain seemed to anticipate my wish, even before I could give it
utterance.
"Do ye know how to fire a pistol?" he asked Jerrold and me, looking from
one to the other of us, with a profound sniff of interrogation. "Have
either of ye handled ere a one before?"
"Oh, yes, sir," said I; while Tom Jerrold laughed.
"Don't you remember, cap'en," he cried, "giving me that fat one there,
the Colt revolver, last voyage when you thought there was going to be a
mutiny; and how you instructed me how to use it?"
"Oh, aye, I remember. I clean forgot, lad; this bother about the ship
has turned my head, I think," snorted he, not a bit angrily though.
"Well, take the same weapon again now, lad, as you're familiar with it;
and you, youngster, have you got any choice?"
"I'd like this one, sir," I replied, fixing on my original selection, as
he turned to me and asked this question, "if you'll let me have it. I
won't hurt it."
"No, I don't fancy ye will," he said, sniffing and chuckling and
twitching his nose. "I hope ye'll hurt some of those rascally pirates
with it, though."
The captain then opened another chest, a smaller iron one, which he also
dragged out from under his bunk, unlocking it with a heavy key he took
off a bunch which was hanging up on a nail over his writing-desk and
throwing back the lid.
This second receptacle, we soon discovered, contained a lot of
cartridges for the rifles, there being a hundred or more of various
sorts, some for the breech-loaders and some for the Enfields of the old-
fashioned regulation size. There were also a variety of smaller
cartridges for the revolvers, and "Old Jock" gave Tom and I each a
package of these latter for our weapons.
In the chest, likewise, were two or three large flasks of powder and a
lot of bullets loose, which the captain crammed into a leathern bag and
told us to take on the poop with the rifles, Tom and I carrying up a
couple each with the bag of bullets and powder-flasks and then returning
for the rest.
In our absence "Old Jock" had ferreted out from some other hiding-place
of his a couple of swords and a number of cutlasses, which he likewise
directed us to take up the companion, he assisting us; until, presently,
we had the whole armoury arranged on the top of the cabin skylight.
"Now, Mackay," said Captain Gillespie, blowing like a grampus after his
exertions, "take y'r choice, but I think that the two best shots in the
ship ought to have the Martini rifles; and if I were picking out the
picked marksmen--he! he! that's a joke, `picking' and `picked,' didn't
intend it though--I'd have chosen y'rself and the bosun!"
Of course we all laughed at his joke, as he had taken such pains to
point it out; and he was so pleased with it himself that it was some
time before he could speak again, he sniffed and snorted so much.
"Not bad that, Mackay," he said; "not bad--eh? But which of these
things would ye like best--eh?"
"I think I'll take the breech-loader, sir," replied the other, suiting
the action to the word and proceeding to examine the lock of one of the
Martini-Henrys, which seemed to be an old acquaintance of his, for he
loaded the chamber much quicker than I could manage my new acquisition;
"and I don't believe you could do better than hand the other to Rooney,
as you suggested. He's the best shot in the ship, I'm certain."
"Y'rself excepted," interposed the captain wonderfully politely for him;
singing out loudly at the same time, "Bosun!"
"Here, sorr," cried Tim, who had been waiting below close to the poop
ladder, expecting the summons, and who was all agog at the prospect of a
fight. "Here I am, sorr."
"Well, bosun," said Captain Gillespie, "it looks as if we'll have to
fight those rascals coming up astern and making for us. The cowards!
They didn't dare attack the old barquey when she was all ataunto in the
open sea; and only now rely on their numbers and the fact of our being
in limbo here. However, if they do attack us, we shall have a fight for
it."
"Bully for ye, sorr!" cried Tim enraptured. "It's mesilf as loikes a
fight, sure. I'm niver at pace barrin' whin I'm in a row, sure, sorr!"
"Then you'll be soon in your element," retorted Jock grimly. "Call the
hands aft."
"Aye, aye, sorr," answered Tim; and going up to the rail he shouted out
in his ringing voice, "All ha-a-nds aft!"
"Now, my men," said "Old Jock," leaning over the poop and addressing
them as they stood below on the main-deck--"we've got a batch of
rascally pirates coming up after us astern; and, as you know, we can't
run away from 'em. What will ye do--cave in to 'em or fight 'em?"
The crew broke into a rousing cheer.
"Ye'll fight 'em, then?"
"Aye, aye, fight 'em till we make 'em sick!" shouted one of the hands
speaking for the rest, who endorsed his answer on their behalf with a
"Hip, hip, hooray!"
"And one for the skipper," shouted Joe Fergusson, who was a sailor of
sailors by this time and had learnt all their ways and talk, dropping
out of his old provincialisms. "Hip, hip, hooray!"
"And another for Mr Mackay," cried a voice that sounded like that of
Adams, causing the hooraying to start again with fresh force, this cheer
being much heartier than the first.
"Now, men," said Captain Gillespie, "as ye've let off all your gas, let
me see what ye can do in action. Bosun, serve out the cutlasses and
distribute the rest of the guns."
This being done and all of the men armed in one way or another, the
deficiencies of the captain's armoury being made good by the aid of
handspikes which Mr Mackay had thoughtfully ordered to be brought aft
while we were taking up the rifles and other things from the cabin.
Even Billy, the ship's boy, got hold of an old bayonet, which he
brandished about near Pedro Carvalho the steward, who had come out of
his pantry to see what all the noise was about, which gesture on his
part almost frightening the Portuguese, who, as I've related before, was
an innate coward, into a fit. At all events, it made him turn of a
yellowish pallor that did not improve his complexion.
"Carramba!" he exclaimed, as he retreated back within his pantry.
"Fora, maldito!"
When offered a weapon, Ching Wang only smiled that innocent bland smile
of his, producing his own long knife, that had a blade like an American
bowie, being over a foot long and with a double edge.
"Me one piecee in tyfong tummee tummee, chop chop, pijjin!" he said,
brandishing the awful blade in a way that I'm sure the "kyfongs," the
Chinese term for pirates, would not relish, especially in such friendly
relation with their "tummee tummees."
All the crew being now armed, the captain and Mr Mackay disposed them
in parties about the deck and forecastle to windward, so as best to
oppose the pirates' attack; while the men provided with the Enfield
rifles were placed in the tops, with the bullets and powder for
ammunition when their cartridges ran short. Tim Rooney took his station
with Mr Mackay on the poop, from which the advancing pirates could best
be picked off, and where also were gathered the captain, as a matter of
course; Mr Saunders, who carried an old single-barrel pistol with a
heavy lock, which the second mate intended to make more use of as a club
than to shoot with; and Tom Jerrold and Sam Weeks, as well as myself--
Sam being sadly jealous of Tom and I from the fact of our having
revolvers, while he, coming too late after they'd all been distributed,
had to be contented with a marlin-spike--poor Sammy!
It was thus that we all awaited the attack, every man Jack of us being
at his specially appointed post and on the alert; when the pirates--
after pounding away at us a long time at a distance, with the result of
neither wounding a soul on board nor damaging the ship very materially,
none of the shot penetrating her hull between wind and water, the only
thing we had to fear--at length mustered up courage enough to give up
their rather unremunerative game of "long bowls" and come to close
quarters.
I had got quite accustomed now to the rushing sound of round shot in the
air and the waspish phit phitting of rifle bullets past my head; and I
was filled with a wild excitement that made my heart pant, as I stood on
the poop between Mr Mackay and Tim Rooney.
These two were peppering away at the leading proa and the junks, as they
paddled in hastily towards the ship with their long double-banked
sweeps, anxious to get in close alongside and so to be sheltered by our
hull from the murderous and rapid fire which the wielders of the
Martini-Henrys rained on them.
But every bullet found a billet in some pirate breast sooner or later,
one of the villainous desperadoes falling over his oar here and another
dropping down on the bamboo deck of a junk there; while, occasionally,
some wretch would tumble overboard with a wild yell, in answer to the
ping of the rifle, shot through the heart as dead as a herring, and
going down to his grave amongst the fishes in Neptune's coral caverns
below!
"There's that scoundrel of a fellow in the red sash again," cried Mr
Mackay, when the Malay proa, which still led the van, was only about
half a cable's length off. "There he is, Rooney,--do you see him?"
"Aye, bad cess to the black divil, I say him well enough, sorr,"
returned Tim, carefully putting a fresh cartridge into the chamber of
his weapon. "Begorra, I thought I'd kilt the beggar a dozen toimes
alriddy; but he's got the luck of ould Nick, an' sames to save his skin
somehow or ither. Here goes for him ag'in--take that now, ye ould
thaife!"
"Ping!"
But the pirate captain, as the tall dark man in the stern of the proa
seemed to be, only let fall the long crease which he had held in his
right hand brandishing at us, the bullet from Tim's rifle having broken
his arm, that also dropped powerless by his side.
"You nearly had him there," cried Mr Mackay, now taking a shot. "I
hope I'll have better luck though."
"I hope ye will, sorr," heartily echoed Tim. "I mint to riddle his
carkiss an ownly winged him. The ugly black divil sames to kape a
charmed loife, an' I dare say his ould frind below helps him, the
nayghur!"
Mr Mackay, however, was equally unsuccessful; for, as luck would have
it, another of the pirates jumping up in front of the chief received the
bullet intended for him.
The scoundrel who got killed was, certainly, one off the list; still,
the small fry did not count like their leader, the loss of whom all of
us thought might have paralysed the enemy's advance.
It really seemed, however, as if the gigantic villain, who towered over
his men, bore a charmed life; for, although our fellows in the tops with
the Ennelds, as well the first mate and boatswain, aimed at him, while,
now that the proa was within revolver range, the captain and Tom
Jerrold, and even I, with my little weapon, pelted bullet after bullet
in his direction, all of us missed hitting the swarthy scoundrel. We
noticed, too, on seeing him closer, that he appeared to be more of Pedro
Carvalho's nationality than belonging to the Malay race, his features
and shape of head being altogether different; albeit, he was fully as
ugly as his rascally comrades in the proa and following junks--a hybrid
lot of Javanese and Chinese and all the vile scourings of the Straits
Settlements; long-haired heavy-eyed and sullen-looking most of them,
with narrow retreating foreheads, and evidently of the lowest type of
humanity.
As they got closer and closer to the ship, too, we noticed that several
had red sashes round their blue frocks, into which were stuck fearful
curved knives and the butt-ends of pistols; and so, with "so many
Richmonds in the field," it was not to be wondered that Tim Rooney and
Mr Mackay had previously missed their mark--albeit now that the proa
was near, it was strange that they could not pick off the pirate leader,
who, as the proa sheered up alongside the Silver Queen, looked up at us
astern and grinned a horrible sardonic grin, drawing the while his
solitary left hand across his bare tawny throat with a most unmistakable
gesture.
"Ping!--ping!" came from Mr Mackay's and the boatswain's rifles again
in quick succession.
And yet again, marvellous as it may seem, they both missed. There was
no longer time, though, for any more pot shots; for, with a wild savage
howl and the beating of drums and gongs again, mingled with a shower of
jingal balls over the ship, the proa struck against the fore-chains on
our starboard bow, one of the junks steering to our port side at the
same time, while another remained across our stern and raked us fore and
aft with round shot, there being a couple of hundred at least of the
bloodthirsty demons in the three craft assailing us. There were
probably as many more, too, in the junks astern, which were coming up
more leisurely, leaving their comrades in the van to bear the brunt of
the fray.
"Now, men!" shouted "Old Jock," who I must say came out like a brave man
and a hero on the occasion, losing all his peculiarities and
littlenesses of manner and behaviour--at least we did not notice them.
"Now, men, we've got to fight for our lives! We must first try and
prevent the pirates getting aboard; and, when we can't do that any
longer and they gain the decks, we'll retreat into the cabin and
barricade ourselves, and fight 'em again there."
"Hooray!" cried the men. "Hooray!"
"And when we can't hold the cabin any longer," continued Old Jock, who
seemed to be in a punning vein this afternoon, "we'll go below to the
hold, and hold that as long as we can!"
"Hooray!" shouted the hands again, full of the fire of battle now and
spurred on by his words. "We'll fight, old man, never fear!"
"And when we can't fight 'em any longer, my lads," cried Captain
Gillespie, looking round at us all with an expression of determination
that I had never seen in his face before, "we'll blow up the ship sooner
than surrender to this villainous gang!"
The cheer that followed this ending of his speech was so loud and
genuine, so full of British pluck, so hearty, that the pirates
absolutely quailed at the sound of it, holding back a second or two
before they sheered up alongside with the intention of boarding us.
They only made a short delay, though, during which we were not idle with
our guns and revolvers; for, the next moment, with another yell of
defiance, the pirate craft flung their grapnels in our rigging and
climbed up on both sides of the ship simultaneously.
"Come down out of the tops!" shouted Mr Mackay to the hands aloft.
"Come down at once, we want all of your aid with cold steel now!"
These soon joined us, and then followed a series of shouts and cries and
shots and groans which it makes me dizzy even now to think of; until,
after losing three of our number, amongst them being poor Mr Saunders,
whom we dragged in mortally wounded with us, we all retreated to the
cabin, barricading ourselves there with all sorts of bales and boxes,
and bracing up the saloon table, which we had previously unloosed from
its lashings, to act as a shield under the skylight.
The pirates made a rush after us, but we were too quick for them; so
then, leaving us alone for awhile, they proceeded to rummage the ship
forward, where, from the noise they made hacking and hewing at the deck,
they were evidently trying to break open the hold so as to get at the
cargo. But the hatchways being constructed of iron beneath the wood
their battering away at them did not bother us much for the moment, as
we knew they would find their work cut out for them and the job a long
one.
Meanwhile, poor Mr Saunders lay dying on the cabin floor, bleeding from
a wound in his breast. The captain said there was no hope for him, for
he had been shot through the lungs; and as I bent over him with a glass
of water I had got from the pantry, he murmured something that sounded
like Ching Wang.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr Mackay. "Where is the Chinaman?"
Nobody knew; and although Mr Saunders had been the first to miss him,
he could not say anything else about him, or tell us what had become of
the poor fellow. We were all, therefore, giving him up for lost, when,
suddenly Pedro Carvalho, who, it may be remembered, bore no friendly
feeling towards the cook, called out from the pantry window whence,
through the jalousies, or open shutters, he could survey a portion of
the main-deck.
"Diante de Deos!" he exclaimed, "dere is dat raskil Ching Wang yondare,
chummy chumming and chin chinning does peerats. Yase, yase, dere he is!
I see him! I see him! Carajo! Cozenheiro maldito!"
This news came upon us like a thunderbolt, but none of us would believe
it until we had been absolutely convinced of the truth of what the
steward had stated by seeing for ourselves. Yet, there was no mistake;
for sure enough we could presently see with our own eyes, Ching Wang on
the friendliest terms, apparently, with a lot of the yellow pirate
rascals, who were of his own celestial nationality, away forward, the
cook showing them all that was to be seen and grinning and gesticulating
away finely!
Still, even then we could hardly believe in his treachery.
Somehow or other, too, whether through Ching Wang's offices or not, of
course, we could not say, the pirates did not bother us much during the
day, only coming up to the skylight occasionally and firing down on us
as well as they could with their clumsy muskets and pistols--a fire
which we just as promptly returned, aiming wherever we saw a flash.
They once pitched in one of their terrible fire balls or "stink-pots" of
fulminating stuff to asphyxiate us with its beastly smell; but Tim
Rooney, taking hold of it and plunging the obnoxious thing in a bucket
of water, rid us at once of the poisonous fumes.
In the evening, when it was growing dark, a tapping was heard at one of
the ports in the captain's cabin; and both Tim and I were just on the
point of firing, when, to our great surprise Ching Wang's well-known
voice was heard.
"Chin, chin lilly pijjin! Comee one chop quick, me wantee talkee
talkee. Lis'en me, an' you lickee kyfong number one go!"
"I thought he'd never turn traitor," cried Captain Gillespie
emphatically; Tim Rooney adding with equal warmth, "Nor I, sorr. I've
allers found the Chinee chap a good Oirishman ivery day he's bin'
aboord!"
The upshot of Ching Wang's communication was, that the pirates were
anxious to get all they could out of the ship and clear off; and,
believing that he had joined them, they had sent him to negotiate terms
with the captain, the pirate chief saying that he would spare all our
lives if we would let him have what dollars there was on board and a
ransom for the ship, on account, of course, of their not being able to
get at the cargo.
Before Captain Gillespie could indignantly refuse making any terms with
the rascals, Ching Wang proceeded to say that he had overheard the
pirates saying that the reason for their violent hurry was that an
English gunboat had been seen in the distance cruising off the mouth of
the Canton river.
"Me gottee sampan," continued Ching Wang, declaring now his real motive.
"Lilly pijjin squeezee one port, me go along findee gunboat an' catchee
kyfong chop chop!"
"First rate," cried Mr Mackay, who acted as general interpreter,
knowing the Chinaman's lingo well, explaining that the reason why Ching
Wang had not gone off by himself in the sampan was that he did not know
the right course to steer for the Canton river in the first place; and,
secondly, he was afraid that the officers of the gunboat might not
believe his story about the Silver Queen being assailed by pirates
unless some European belonging to her accompanied him. "Nothing could
have been more sensible, you see, cap'en; and Ching Wang's got his head
screwed on straight."
"And where is this boat ye're going in?"
"Sampan, go long now," returned Ching Wang, motioning with his hand to
the water below the stern. "Go long chop chop, soon lilly pijjin come
down topside."
His selection of me, though apparently a very flattering one, was due to
the fact of my being the only one capable of squeezing through the port,
Weeks, who had grown awfully fat on the voyage, being incapable of
accomplishing the feat, while all the rest of us were far too big.
"How will ye be able to steer for Canton?" asked Captain Gillespie
sniffing--"even if ye know all about managing the boat?"
"Oh, sir," cried I, quite joyous at the idea of starting off on such an
expedition and coming with a British gunboat to take the pirates by
surprise and give them a licking, "Ching Wang'll see to the sampan, as
he calls it, and I will steer, sir, if you give me the course, sir.
I've got a little compass here on my watch chain."
"Humph!" he ejaculated; "I think ye'll do, boy. Ye're smart enough at
any rate for the job; and, besides, there's no one else that can get
through the port. Ye can go!"
"Thank you, sir," said I, grateful for even this semi-reluctant
concession, being afraid he might refuse; and then, squeezing gingerly
through the port and carefully lowering myself down by a rope which Tim
Rooney hitched round the captain's bunk, I landed on the bottom boards
of the boat that old Ching Wang had ready below.
I recollect well Tim's whispering softly as I let go my hold of the port
sill, "Sure, now, take care av y'rsilf, Misther Gray-ham, sorr, an'
don't forgit what the skipper's tould you about your coorse whin ye gits
outsoide the rafe; ye're to steer nor'-nor'-west, wid a little more west
in it, an' kape a good look-out for the blissid gunboat--an'--an' God
bliss ye me bhoy, an' that's Tim Rooney's dyin' wish if ye niver say him
ag'in!"