Before the day was over, not only Canton, but all the surrounding forts

were in possession of the British. As Sergeant Turbot could descend the

hill more easily than he could get up it, I wished him good-bye, and

returned with my young officer to the boat. Poor Mr Hanson had received

a wound in the leg, which had, I found, prevented him joining in the

attack.

Chapter Seven.

Our Cruise in the Junk.

Just as we got out of the creek we caught sight of a large junk

stealing round a point at no great distance from us. Although Mr Hanson

and one of the men were wounded, he instantly ordered us to give chase,

and away we pulled after the junk, which as we rounded the point we saw

was making for one of the innumerable canals which intersect the

country in all directions. If she once got into it she might escape us.

The men therefore bent to their oars with a right good will, apparently

just as fresh, as when they left the schooner in the morning. As we

approached the junk, the Chinese began firing at us with their gingals

and swivels, and for a couple of minutes or more we were exposed to a

pretty heavy shower of bullets. I got the rim of my hat taken off.

“No odds,” I cried out; “it’s better than the tip of my nose.”

A man near me had a shot through the fleshy part of his shoulder, and a

dozen bullets or more stuck in the sides of our boat. On we dashed,

however, right under the oars of the Chinaman.

“Come on, my lads?” shouted Dicky Plumb, whose blood was up to boiling

pitch; and catching hold of a pike which was thrust at him, he hauled

himself up on to the junk’s deck, four of our men climbing up at the

same moment. Fortunately for Master Dicky, Ned Rawlings was by his

side, and saved his head from a blow aimed at him by a Chinaman. Mr

Hanson, in spite of his wound, got the men to haul him up. I followed

close behind Mr Plumb, and in a few seconds we were all upon the deck

of the Chinaman, slashing and cutting away. So frightened had the

Chinese become at our proceedings in the morning, that very few stopped

to oppose us, and scarcely had we gained the deck, than the crew began

to jump overboard on the opposite side. In another minute not a

Chinaman was left alive on the upper deck.

“Now, lads, let us look after them below!” shouted Mr Plumb, leading

the way to the main deck. A considerable number of the crew had

remained there, intent upon mischief. As they saw us, however, they

made a bolt right forward and leaped through a large port, striking out

for the shore, which was not more than thirty yards off.

“They have been after something or other,” cried Mr Plumb.

As he spoke, I sprang down to the deck below, and there I saw what

looked like a thin snake of fire crawling along the deck. I rushed at

it, and found the end of a slow match which had not long been lighted.

To snatch it up and throw it overboard was the work of a moment. I was

only just in time, however, and did not feel very comfortable even

then, for it was leading down, through an opening in the deck, to what

I had little doubt was the magazine. Ned Rawlings, who had followed me,

sprang to where several buckets were hung up, and seizing one of them

to which a rope was attached, in a moment he had it full of water,

which he dashed down the opening into the magazine. Mr Hanson now

ordered the cable of the junk to be cut, and sent the boat ahead to tow

her out of the creek. There was no time to be lost, for a number of

Chinese were collecting on the shore, some of them already beginning to

take long shots at us. Four hands jumped into the boat with Mr Plumb,

while two others, with Ned Rawlings and I, remained to assist Mr

Hanson. As there were a number of small boats along the shore, the

Chinese might easily have come back again; but they expected to see us

blown up into the air, and the fear of the consequence kept them at a

distance, and proved our safety.

At length, just as it was growing dusk, we got clear out into the

harbour, when the wind proving fair, we hoisted the junk’s sails, and

stood away towards where we expected to find the schooner. Several

times we were chased by English boats, and were twice fired at by some

of our friends, who supposed that our junk was still in the hands of

the Chinese, who were endeavouring to escape. Our prize was indeed a

curious craft; a capital place for playing hide-and-seek in—full of all

sorts of odd little cabins and cupboards and recesses in which people

could stow themselves away. Having found several lanterns, we lighted

them, and Mr Dicky and I hunted throughout the vessel, in case any

Chinese were still on board, who might steal out and perhaps after all

blow up the vessel. We thought that we had looked into all the cabins

and cupboards, and nooks and corners, and came and reported the same to

Mr Hanson.

“Go and look again, Dicky,” he answered. “Take Rawlings with you, and

let him run the point of his cutlass gently through all the crevices.”

Off we started again, Rawlings carrying a huge paper lantern, covered

with dragons and other monsters, and having his cutlass ready to stick

into any crevice we might discover. We began forward, examining all

sorts of curious places, but no one was to be found there. At length we

got aft, where we thought we had searched thoroughly, and came to a

little cupboard in one of the quarters, into which Ned gently inserted

the point of his weapon. A shrill cry, which made us start, was the

result, and putting in his hand he hauled out a young Chinese boy, who

had managed to coil himself away in a very small space. He seemed by

his gestures to be entreating us not to kill him, and then gave us to

understand that he was anxious to be our friend, and to serve us. Of

course, not a word he said could we understand.

“Are there any more of you stowed away?” asked Ned; but if we did not

understand the Chinese boy, neither did he understand us, and no answer

could be got to this question.

Having looked about in the neighbourhood of the spot where we found the

boy, we carried him on deck to Mr Hanson. He there went through the

gestures he had made to us, and Mr Hanson signed to him to sit down on

the deck, and let him know that he would receive no harm. We were then

sent back to continue our search. No other person was, however, found,

and at length we got alongside the schooner. We were received by a loud

cheer from our shipmates, and Mr Ormsby ordered us to retain possession

till he could inspect the junk in the morning, and settle what was to

be done with her.

“But Mr Hanson is wounded, sir,” sung out Dicky Plumb; “and besides,

sir, _we are hard up for grub_. The provisions the Chinese have left on

board don’t look very tempting.”

Mr Hanson, with the other wounded man, was therefore ordered to go on

board, that the assistant-surgeon might look to their hurts, while a

supply of provisions was sent us from the schooner, Dicky Plumb thus

remaining in command of the junk.

“Jack,” he said to me, “if I had my will, I should like to appoint you

my first-lieutenant, for I think you know as much about seamanship as I

do; but as that would not be quite correct, I am afraid I must have Ned

Rawlings as my second in command. I only hope we may be ordered to take

a cruise somewhere. It would be great fun going away by ourselves to

look after prizes, would it not?”

I agreed with him, but observed that I did not think Mr Ormsby would

dispatch us for that purpose. The next morning, when Mr Ormsby came on

board, he declared that the junk we had taken was so fine a vessel that

it would be a pity to destroy her, and therefore obtained leave to

carry her off to Hong Kong.

“Can I remain in command of her, sir?” asked Dicky, touching his hat

when Mr Ormsby had arrived at this decision.

The lieutenant looked at him with a smile.

“Why, Mr Plumb, what amount of navigation do you possess?”

“Why, sir,” said Dicky, promptly, “I know how to steer, and we can keep

the _Fawn_ in sight, so she will serve as our pole-star.”

“But suppose it came on thick weather, and you lost sight of us?”

observed the lieutenant.

“We would not rest till we had found you again,” answered Dicky,

promptly.

“I suspect the _Fawn_ will outsail the junk, and then what will you

do?”

“Ask every one we meet the whereabouts of Hong Kong,” answered Dicky.

“I have no doubt you would do your best,” said Mr Ormsby, “but still I

cannot quite trust you. I must send Mr Hanson back, and I have no doubt

that you will prove a very efficient first-lieutenant to him.”

With this Master Dicky was obliged to remain content, and, in a couple

of days, Mr Hanson, having somewhat recovered his strength, came on

board and took the command. Before many days were over the Chinese

succeeded in bamboozling our plenipotentiaries; we gave up all we had

won, and the fleet sailed away back to Hong Kong. We followed in the

wake of the schooner, which had to shorten sail for us, when the wind

was abeam; but at length it came aft, and we then kept very good way

with her; indeed, she had to make all sail not to let us pass her. Our

captive Chinese boy seemed very well reconciled to his fate. We could

not make out what was his name, so we called him “Joss.” He was a

merry, yellow-faced little chap, with the funniest pig-eyes imaginable.

He seemed always ready to laugh, and sing, and dance about the deck. It

was very evident that he would pick up English sooner than any of us

were likely to learn a word of Chinese. In the course of a few days,

indeed, he could ask for all sorts of things, and seemed to know a

great deal that was said to him. I should say Mr Hanson spoke very

handsomely of the way Dicky Plumb had behaved in boarding the Chinese,

and told Mr Ormsby that he had been the first on deck, and how

gallantly he had behaved also on shore, when attacking the fort. I

found, also, that he made favourable mention of my conduct on both

occasions.

“Indeed, had it not been for Junker,” I heard that he observed, “we

might all of us have been blown into the other world.” Mr Ormsby had

said that he should report my conduct to the captain, who would be sure

not to let it pass unnoticed. Dicky told me all this.

“I was very glad of it, Jack,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I have

an idea in my head. What it is, I am not going to tell you; only, Jack,

if I am ever a captain, I should like to have you as my

first-lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, “for your kind wishes, but I am afraid such

good luck is not in store for me.”

At length, our junk, with several others that had been captured,

reached Hong Kong in safety. The harbour was crowded with vessels.

There must have been a hundred or more craft, of various sorts, from

line-of-battle ships down to schooners and cutters, and a variety of

Chinese and other foreign-rigged vessels.

Chapter Eight.

A Typhoon and a Shipwreck.

The junk lay in Hong Kong harbour, close to the _Fawn_. Soon after we

brought up in the harbour, finding that a boat was to be sent from the

_Fawn_ to the _Roarer_, I got leave to go in her. I had some misgivings

about Sergeant Turbot, and was anxious to see him. I found that he was

in the sick bay, where there were several wounded men. He shook me

warmly by the hand when he saw me.

“Jack, my boy,” he said, “you saved my life t’other day, and, what is

more, my honour. If it had not been for you, my fellows would have got

into that Chinese fort while I was at the bottom of the hill; but Jack,

I confess it, I feel I am not cut out for campaigning in a hilly

country; indeed, to advance, at double-quick, across a plain, tries me

considerably.”

I was afraid, from the sergeant’s way of talking, that he was very ill.

I made some remark to that effect.

“In honest truth, Jack,” he answered, “I was pretty well knocked up

altogether with that work on shore; what with the hot sun, the rapid

marching, and climbing those heights; but still, Jack, I don’t think I

am going to give in just yet. If I do, remember me to your father, and

tell him that I consider you are worthy of him. However, I hope to be

fit for duty in the course of a few days, and to have another pull at

the Chinamen’s pigtails before we have done with them.”

From what I could hear on board I found that our business in the boat

and capture of the junk was highly approved of. Our captain, with

several of the boats of the _Roarer_, had been engaged, and he had

behaved with great bravery and activity. I was glad to find, that in

the course of a few days Sergeant Turbot was much better. His gallantry

was well known, and Dicky Plumb told me that he had heard the captain

of marines on board say that in future he would take care that he was

not sent on an expedition where any great bodily exertion was required.

We had been some time off Hong Kong, and began to grow weary of not

having more to do. The weather had now become excessively hot and

sultry. Dark black clouds collected in the sky, and there was an

oppression in the atmosphere which made all hands feel uncomfortable.

The weather-wise predicted a typhoon. I asked Sergeant Turbot, the last

visit I paid him, the meaning of a typhoon.

“Why, Jack, you must know that a typhoon is just like ten everyday

gales of wind pressed into one,” he replied. “If a fellow is aloft he

has need to hold on with his eyelids, teeth, and nails; and if he’s on

shore, to look out for falling chimneys and roofs. If we get one—and

from what I hear there’s every chance of it—you’ll know what it is fast

enough, and not forget either, as long as you live.”

The barometer, too, supporting the opinion of the weather-wise, was

falling, indicating a change of weather. Meantime, the Chinese on shore

seemed to be greatly excited. We saw, stuck out from many of their

houses, long poles, twenty or thirty feet high, with huge lanterns at

the end of them, ornamented with grotesque-looking figures of various

sorts. Then began the beating of gongs, the firing of crackers, and the

explosion of little bamboo petards, from one end of the town to the

other, and from all the boats along the shore. The Chinese might

possibly have thought that their fireworks had produced some effect,

for the day passed by and no typhoon broke over us. At night, however,

dark clouds again collected overhead, out of which the most vivid

lightning shot incessantly. For an instant the whole sky was lighted

up, and the numerous vessels in the harbour, and the distant shores,

could be seen clearly. Then all again was pitchy darkness. The night

passed away, however, without any incident worthy of note. In the

morning, Mr Ormsby, who had been on board the _Roarer_, came back, and

said that he had received orders to convey the junk to Macao.

“Then I am afraid our independent cruise will be up,” I heard Mr Plumb

observe to Mr Hanson.

We accordingly got under weigh, and stood out of the harbour. We had

not, however, proceeded far, when the threatening appearances of the

weather returned. Again the clouds collected, the lightning flashed

vividly, and sudden gusts came furiously off the land. Mr Ormsby

hailed, and ordered us to bring up under the high shore, a couple of

miles to windward, he setting us the example. A few tacks brought the

_Fawn_ to an anchorage, when her topmasts were struck, and every

preparation was made for the typhoon, which, it was now evident, was

about to commence. We were some way astern of the schooner, when down

came a fierce blast with tremendous force upon us. The sails were

lowered, and the huge anchor let go.

“The craft will ride it out after all, I believe,” said Mr Hanson,

watching to ascertain whether the junk was driving.

“That’s more than any other ship will do,” observed Ned Rawlings,

pointing to the vessels in the distance, many of which were now driving

away furiously before the wind; and already the sea was covered with

the wrecks of native vessels, to which numerous persons—both men and

women and children—were clinging desperately, as they drove onward

before the wind.

Fearful must have been the destruction of life and property in that

crowded harbour. However, we had to think about ourselves. The typhoon

was increasing in fury; it seemed to be working itself up like a man

getting into a rage. A blast ten times stronger than the first now

struck us.

“She has parted, sir,” cried Ned Rawlings.

Away we drove before the wind. At first we went sideways, and it seemed

as if every instant we should be blown over. The helm however, was put

up, and away we drifted right before the gale; the farther we got from

the shore the higher the seas became, and the stronger the wind. Mr

Hanson looked grave; there was good reason for his so doing, for the

junk began to pitch and roll in the most furious manner, while the seas

danced up round her, seeming determined to come on board. At times, it

seemed scarcely possible that we could hold on to her deck; we felt

somewhat like peas on a drum—jumping up and down, with the prospect of

being jerked overboard every instant. As to setting sail, that was

impossible; for even had a foot of the bamboo-matting been presented to

the wind it would have been blown away. The junk, flimsy as she looked

outside, was strongly built, so that there was less risk of her going

to pieces than might have been supposed. I asked Rawlings what he

thought about the matter.

“Well, Jack,” he said, “if we can keep the open sea the old tea-chest

may float; but if we get the coast under our lee we shall drive ashore

and go to pieces.”

More than once Mr Hanson looked astern.

“Perhaps he hopes that the _Fawn_ will come after us,” I observed to

Rawlings.

“That’s not likely,” was the answer. “It would not do to risk the loss

of the schooner on the chance of helping us; and, to my mind, there’s

little help any vessel can give us.”

Had, indeed, the schooner been following, we might not have seen her;

for, so thick was the spray which drove over us, that we could scarcely

see many yards beyond the junk, all the time the wind howling and

shrieking, and the water hissing and foaming around us. We could do

nothing to help ourselves; indeed, it took all our strength just to

hold on to the side. Every now and then a huge sea would come rolling

up, and seem about to break on board, but the buoyant junk rose to the

top of it, and then again down we plunged into the deep trough below.

Mr Hanson and two of the men stood at the helm, trying to steer the

lumbering craft, and not without difficulty could they prevent her from

broaching-to. Dicky Plumb had done his best to keep his legs, but,

finding that impossible, at length sat down on the deck, holding on,

and endeavouring to look as unconcerned and cool as possible. As we

looked out we could see fragments of wreck floating by, showing us what

would, too probably, be our fate. We passed one large junk almost under

water, to which several people were clinging; they held out their hands

to us, asking for assistance, but we could give them none, and soon we

drove by, when they were hid from our sight by the driving spray. On we

went.

“Breakers ahead!” shouted Ned Rawlings, who had been looking out.

There appeared, right before us, a line of coast—to weather it, seemed

impossible; and yet, if we could not do so, our destruction was

inevitable. At length we made out a point of land on the port bow—we

were driving towards it—Mr Hanson put the helm as much as he could to

starboard.

“If we can get to the other side of that,” he observed to Mr Plumb, “we

may escape with our lives; if not, there’s not a chance for us.”

“It cannot be helped,” answered Mr Dicky, quite composedly. “We have

done our best, and can do no more.”

Closer and closer we drew to the wild rocks at the end of the point;

the surf was breaking furiously over them. I know I held my breath, and

I cannot exactly say how I felt; only I kept wishing something was

over. There were the rocks, and there was the fearful surf roaring over

them. In another instant we were in the midst of the surf; I expected

to hear a crash, and to find the vessel going to pieces. The water came

rushing over our decks; the masses of spray blinded us. On we flew, and

in another moment the point was passed; and though the sea broke

heavily on the shore, still there was a possibility of our landing on

it. We had no anchors remaining, so we could not bring up, even could

any anchor have held; shipwreck was certain. The only doubt was where

we should strike—that was settled in another minute—lifted high on a

roller we were hurled towards the shore; then suddenly down we came

with a tremendous crash; the masts instantly fell; the upper works were

washed away; with difficulty could we hold on to the wreck.

“Now, Jack, let’s see what you can do,” exclaimed Ned Rawlings.

“There’s not a better swimmer on board!”

I understood what was wanted. Ned got hold of a rope, which I fastened

round my waist.

“I’ll carry it ashore,” I cried out.

“Let me go, too,” cried Dicky Plumb, forgetting that he could not swim.

There was no time for thought. I dashed overboard, and struck out for

the shore; I ran a great risk of being knocked on the head by pieces of

the wreck; I knew that several passed close to me. Now the sea came

roaring up, and, passing over the vessel, sent me some way towards the

shore; as it receded, however, it carried me back again almost to the

junk; still I struggled on; the next sea which came up took me still

nearer, and, though I went back again, still I had gained some

distance; at last, I felt my feet touch the ground, then I seemed about

to be swept back again, but I struggled on, and with a wild spring,

clutching the sand with my hands, I resisted the receding water, which

came hissing and foaming around me; then with a few more desperate

struggles I found myself out of the reach of the sea. Near me was a

pointed rock; round it I securely fastened the rope. In the meantime,

three or four men had thrown themselves into the water; one poor fellow

was swept out, his dying shriek reaching my ear just as I landed;

another was holding on desperately to a piece of the wreck; two more

came on shore, but greatly exhausted. I saw Rawlings making signals to

me to haul in the rope; I began to haul away, but the rope he had

secured to the light one I took on shore was so heavy that I could not

accomplish the task; just then I was joined by my two shipmates, and

all three of us pulling away at the rope, we got it on shore; the end

was secured, as the lighter one had been, round the rock; and the first

person who tried it was Rawlings. I found that he had secured a couple

of travellers to the rope.

“I will go back,” he said, “and bring Mr Plumb. Mr Hanson will not

leave the vessel till all are on shore, I know.”

Master Dicky, however, was for coming entirely by himself; still, I

think he would have been washed off had not Rawlings gone to his

assistance. Little Joss, the Chinese boy, clambered along as actively

as a monkey. There was more difficulty in getting Mr Hanson on shore,

as he had scarcely quite recovered from his wounds. Not a moment after

he left the junk a sea came roaring up, and in an instant she split

into a thousand fragments; not a particle of her remained holding

together on the rock on which she struck; the same sea tore the poor

fellow who had been clinging to a piece of the wreck from his hold, and

he was washed away, no more to be seen. The remainder of us clambered

up away from the beach, where we sat down to consult what was best to

be done. It was now growing dark; not a house or shelter of any sort

could we see.

“We shall all perish if we spend the night exposed to this bitter

blast,” said Mr Hanson. “Lads, we must look out for some place or other

for shelter,” and saying this, he led the way further inland, where a

lofty cliff appeared before us.

Searching about, we found an opening in the rock, down the centre of

which a stream flowed, running on towards the sea. Here we were

somewhat sheltered from the wind, but it was open at the top, so that

the air even here felt very cold.

Chapter Nine.

Captured by the Celestials.

The night passed slowly by. We were very hungry and very cold. I had

the satisfaction of having my praises sung by my commander.

“Indeed, Junker, I am ready to confess that we owe our lives to you,”

said Mr Hanson. “It required no little courage to carry the rope on

shore in the way you did.”

I made a suitable, and, I hope, modest reply.

There was no room to lie down, so we all had to sit up and do our best

to keep our feet out of the stream. As the morning broke the typhoon

subsided, and at last we went out of our resting-place to look about

us. The whole shore was lined with pieces of wreck. One of the poor

fellows who had been drowned had been thrown up, but the bodies of the

others could not be seen. We most of us had become desperately hungry:

I know I was. Where to get food was the question. Hunting along the

beach, however, we found a ham and a small keg of biscuits. We soon

fell to on them. Though the biscuits were somewhat soaked with water,

in a short time there was little of either one or the other to be seen.

Mr Hanson said that we were on an island, but how we were to get away

was the question. We could only hope that the _Fawn_ might come and

look out for us, on the possibility of our having escaped. We had just

finished our breakfast, when we heard some cries above our heads, and,

looking up, we saw a number of Chinese, who were amusing themselves by

gazing down on us. We asked Joss who they were.

“Bad people! bad people!” he answered, shaking his head.

They seemed in a short time to have gained courage, and now some thirty

or forty men, dressed like common fishermen, came down from the

heights, and stood round us. Seeing that we were unarmed, they became

familiar, and presently one of them signed to Mr Hanson to take off his

coat. This he did, hoping to satisfy them. No sooner did they get it,

than they set up a shout and laugh, and then signified to Dicky Plumb

to do the same.

“I will do no such thing,” he answered, buttoning up his jacket.

On this a couple of fellows seized him and tore it open, and in another

minute hauled it off his back, in spite of his indignant

expostulations. Pleased at their success, they treated us all in the

same way, leaving us only our shirts and trousers. Mr Hanson at length

got hold of one of the men who appeared to be a leader among them, and

endeavoured by signs to explain that if he would take us back to Hong

Kong he should be handsomely rewarded. Little Joss, who was very quick

in understanding our meaning, came to our assistance. At length the man

agreed to take us for a hundred dollars a head. We had, however, to

wait for a considerable time before the weather moderated sufficiently,

and we were then all marched to the harbour, at some distance from the

place where we drove on shore. Here another dispute arose among our

captors. The owners of different boats considered that we ought to be

divided among them. Finally, Mr Dicky Plumb, with Ned Rawlings and I,

with little Joss, fell to the share of an old fellow with a remarkably

roguish expression of countenance. We, however, could not help

ourselves, and could only hope that the promise of the reward would

induce him to take us back safely. In the evening we were carried on

board different junks. Our boat was open amidships, with a small cabin

aft, into which we were all stowed. Here we spent the night, for we saw

from the first that our friends had no intention of getting under weigh

till daylight. The other junks sailed first, but our old captain showed

no disposition to follow them. We inquired why he did not sail with the

others, but he only grinned and shook his head at us. He was waiting

apparently for some of his crew. At length we got under weigh; and now

we began to hope that before the next morning we should find ourselves

at Hong Kong. We had not been at sea more than an hour when, coming

round a point, there appeared a large mandarin war junk. Our old

captain was evidently in great trepidation. Still he sailed on as

before, hoping that the mandarin junk would not overhaul us. A signal,

however, from her was seen, ordering us to heave-to. On this the old

captain made signs to us to lie down at the bottom of the boat, and he

then covered us up with mats. On came the junk. What was going to

happen we could not tell. Presently we heard loud voices and shouts,

and we felt that a boat had come alongside. We might well have given

ourselves up for lost.

“Jack,” whispered Mr Plumb to me, “if we could but get hold of some

swords, we would have a fight for it. I should like to die game. I have

no idea of being killed like a rat in a hole.”

I felt very much as he did, but while there was a chance of escaping

notice, I saw that it would be wiser to remain concealed. Presently,

however, we found the mats being lifted up off us; concealment was no

longer possible. We sprang to our feet, and there we saw a dozen

Chinamen, with weapons in their hands, ready to cut us down, should we

attempt resistance. Their officer turned upon our unfortunate old

captain, who stood at the helm the picture of dismay; the crew were

sitting forward, chattering with fear; without another word the officer

gave a flourish with his sword, and the old man’s head rolled off into

the sea; the crew attempted to leap overboard, but were mercilessly cut

down. We fully expected to be treated in the same way; instead of this,

the boat was brought alongside the junk, on board of which we were all

ordered to go. The junk having cast off the fishing-boat, with the body

of her murdered owner still on board, and those of several of the crew,

made sail to the east. What was to be done with us we could not say.

With oars and sails the junk made great progress. Our only hope rested

on the possibility of being fallen in with by a man-of-war; but even

then, if hard pressed, our captors were very likely to murder us all.

Having got clear of the land, the junk stood away to the north. We

three were thrust into a little cabin on one side of the deck, so

small, that only one could lie down at a time; Joss, however, was

allowed to come to us, and wander about the deck as he liked. How he

had escaped we could not well tell; and now it seemed that no one

intended to injure him. He told us, that, as far as he could make out,

we were going to some place in the north, a long way off. We suspected

that the captain of the junk intended to make the most of us, and would

probably declare that, he had taken us from aboard a barbarian

man-of-war, we being the only survivors.

“I do not at all like the look of things, Jack,” said Dicky Plumb to

me. “I am afraid they will be clapping us into cages, and sending us

about the country as a show.”

“That will be one way of seeing the world,” I answered; “and provided

they do not cut off our heads, I dare say, some day or other, we shall

be getting back to our friends.”

Day after day we sailed on; in vain we looked out for an English

man-of-war.

“Very little chance of falling in with one,” observed Ned Rawlings.

“After that typhoon they will all be in harbour, repairing damages.”

Ned was right. It was probably owing to that circumstance that we

escaped recapture. At length we entered the mouth of a large river, and

Joss made us understand that we were being carried to the city of

Nankin; we were, in reality, in the great river Yang-tse-Kiang. From

the time we had been coming we knew that it must be a long way from

Hong Kong, and our hopes of being retaken now vanished altogether: the

wind coming down the river, the junk came to an anchor. I should have

said that all this time our only food was salt fish and rice. When we

anchored, several boats brought off some vegetables, which we had given

to us in addition; it was hard fare, however, but after all it did not

much signify, as it kept body and soul together, and our health did not

suffer. The mandarin, being anxious, apparently, to deliver the

despatches which he carried, as well as to exhibit us, took us on

shore, and we were now all three placed in a cart, and driven off into

the interior; as there were no springs, we went bumping and thumping

over the road in a way sufficient to dislocate all our limbs. Just as

we were starting, little Joss, who had managed to get on shore, jumped

into the cart, and we were not sorry to see his merry, good-natured

face. To make a long story short, at last we arrived at a walled city;

it was not Nankin, however, but a place supposed to be very strong—Chin

Kiang-foo; it was full of Tartar soldiers, who scowled at us as we

passed. We had not gone far when we stopped before a sort of public

office, I suppose, when a man came out and put some large labels round

our necks. What they were of course we could not tell, but we made out

from what Joss said, that they were to inform the world, that we were

prisoners taken in a bloody fight from an English war ship, which had

been sent, by the bravery of the Chinese, to the bottom. Having been

carried round the city, we were taken to a place which we soon found

was the public prison; here we were all four (for Joss was with us)

thrown into a small cell not much larger than our cabin on board the

junk.

“No chance of cutting our way out, Mr Plumb,” observed Ned Rawlings.

“I wish there was,” said Mr Plumb.

Little Joss we found looking very sad. He seemed, from what we made

out, to think we were all going to be killed.

“It cannot be helped,” said Dicky. “Jack, are you prepared to die?”

“I hope so,” I said; “but I would rather live, I confess; and, do you

know, I think we shall, in spite of appearances. The Chinamen would

gain nothing by killing us, and our keep cannot cost them much.”

By such remarks I soon restored Dicky’s hopes. We were kept for some

days in our wretched little prison, having our food brought to us, but

being otherwise left alone; at length, one day, the door opened, and

four soldiers appeared: without saying a word, they seized hold of Ned;

he shook himself free of them, however, having an idea, that they were

going to take him out and kill him. Four finding they could not manage

him, six more appeared, who, rushing on him, at length pinioned his

arms, and carried him away out of the cell.

“I hope they will not separate us, Jack,” said Dicky. “I am very

unhappy about Ned.”

“I hope they will not indeed,” I answered. Poor Ned! though he made no

further resistance as long as we could see him, the Chinese soldiers

were kicking and cuffing him, some pulling his hair, and others his

ears, as they dragged him along. Two days afterwards we received a

visit from a dozen soldiers at least. They stopped for a moment when

the door was opened, and then rushing in seized the midshipman, and

pinioning his arms, dragged him out of the cell.

“Good-bye, Jack?” he shouted out. “I suppose they are going to cut my

head off. It is reputed to be a dignified way of making an exit, and if

I cannot escape, I must grin and bear it.”

Even at that moment, Dicky could not help having a joke. I felt very

sad when I was left alone, for it seemed too likely that our cruel

captors would kill us all. At length my turn came, but I was only

honoured by six soldiers, who appeared to think that they could manage

me without much difficulty. I tried to sing, and appeared as merry as

possible, even when they came round me, knowing that kicking and

scratching would do no good. Still, I own I had an uncomfortable

feeling about my throat, fully believing that before long I was to have

my head cut off. One of them, however, clapped an iron collar round my

neck, from which a chain extended to my feet. On my ankles irons were

also fixed, so that, had I been a very Samson, I could scarcely have

escaped. In this state the soldiers dragged me along, and passing

through several courts, I was carried into a house, where, seated at a

table, I found several dignified-looking personages, with scribes at

either side of them, pen in hand, ready to make notes. They began by

asking me all sorts of questions, to which, of course, not knowing a

word they said, I could make no answers. At this, several persons

rushing forward, one gave me an unpleasant kicking behind my knees,

while another pressed me down, a third seizing my head and banging my

nose on the ground. This process did not make me speak Chinese a bit

better than at first. I guessed it was what my companions in captivity

had had to go through, and I fully expected to be led off and treated

as I supposed they had been. Instead of this, after I had received a

considerable number of blows and kicks, the mandarins, finding that

they could make nothing of me, ordered me back to my cell. For some

hours afterwards I kept constantly feeling my neck—not quite certain

whether or not it had been cut through with a fine-edged sabre, and

almost expecting every now and then to find my head roll off on to the

ground.

Chapter Ten.

Liberty Again.

Days and weeks passed away. I was kept in a solitary cell. Even Joss

was not allowed to visit me. I feared, indeed, that he must have been

killed. Of what had become of my companions I could gain no tidings.

“They have not killed me, perhaps they have let them live.” This

reasoning was the only thing that gave me hopes. I must confess,

however, it was a hard matter to keep up my spirits. The iron chains on

my neck and arms weighed me down. I was now moved into a cell in which

were two dozen or more prisoners. In it was a bench, to which I was

chained, but in such a way as to allow me to sit, if not with ease, at

all events without pain. My youth might, perhaps, have excited the

compassion of my fellow-prisoners, for savage as some of them looked,

they treated me with kindness. Had I been sure that my friends were

even no worse off than I was, I should have been contented. Many of the

poor prisoners were suffering from all sorts of complaints, and several

of them were led out from time to time, when we could hear their cries

and shrieks, and when they came back their legs and arms and bodies

bore signs of the fearful treatment they had received. Twice a day my

fellow-prisoners and I were unchained and allowed to go into the

courtyard for air and exercise. Sometimes we were allowed to remain

there longer than at other times. On one occasion we were hurried back

and quickly chained up again, when we found that it was in consequence

of the unexpected visit of a mandarin to the prison. In vain I tried to

find out whether Dicky Plumb or Ned Rawlings were alive. At last it

struck me that if they were within hearing they might answer if I were

to sing a song; so, to the astonishment of my fellow-prisoners, I

suddenly struck up “Rule Britannia?” walking about the yard, and

shouting louder and louder. They, I believe, thought I was mad. I

stopped and listened. I thought I heard a faint response from another

part of the building, but I was not certain. Several days passed by,

when, as I sat on the bench, chained as usual, I heard a voice in the

courtyard below humming the very air I had sung, but whether it was the

voice of Dicky Plumb or Ned Rawlings I could not tell; indeed, it

seemed to me to be that of a stranger. I had lost all account of the

time I had been in prison, when one day I remarked that there was a

considerable excitement exhibited by my companions. That something of

importance was taking place I was certain. Suddenly, at the time we

were usually taken into the yard in the morning, the sound of musketry

reached my ears. Faint at first, it grew louder and louder. Then there

came the roar of big guns. Oh, how I longed to be with Dicky Plumb or

Ned Rawlings! There could be no doubt that the English were attacking

the place. It did not occur to me that in revenge the Chinese might cut

off our heads. The noise grew louder and louder. Presently I could hear

shouts and cries, and bullets seemed pattering against some of the

buildings in the neighbourhood. The city was attacked—of that there

could be no doubt. I could not help shouting out again “Rule

Britannia!” The Chinese looked at me with great awe; they must have

fancied it an incantation. The hubbub increased; there was evidently

some desperate fighting close at hand. Suddenly two of the gaolers

rushed into the cell, and came up to me. I could not help fancying that

my last moment had come. Instead of that, greatly to my satisfaction,

they undid my fetters, then made a sign to me to follow them. I did so

gladly enough, and in the courtyard whom should I see but Dicky Plumb

himself! We cordially shook hands.

“I am so glad, Jack!” he exclaimed. “To this moment I did not know

whether you were alive or dead.”

“Nor I you,” I answered. Directly afterwards we were joined by Ned

Rawlings, who seemed well pleased to see us both again, while little

Joss, who soon afterwards appeared, exhibited the greatest possible

satisfaction. Directly afterwards the gates were thrown open, the

Chinese scampered off and hid themselves, and in rushed a body of blue

jackets, among whom I recognised several of the crew of the _Fawn_.

Supposing that we had long been dead, they did not know us; indeed,

pale and thin and dirty as we were, this was not surprising. The whole

place was, in a short time, in the power of the British. The Tartar

soldiers fought desperately, and when they found they could no longer

defend their houses, they deliberately killed their wives and children,

and then destroyed themselves. Several of the superior officers, rather

than be taken, threw themselves upon their swords. Others, however, who

had heard that the English treated their prisoners with humanity, if

they could not run away, more wisely lived “to fight another day.”

When the battle was over we were taken on board the _Fawn_, which lay

some way down the river. Although we had gone through many hardships,

we had reason to be thankful, for we found that we were the only

persons on board the junk who had escaped with life. I often shudder,

even now, as I think of what we had to go through. A considerable

number of English and Lascars were, about this time, seized by the

Chinese, and were put to death, after being cruelly ill-treated for

several months. The Emperor of China finding that, in spite of the

boasting of his generals, the barbarians managed to beat his troops on

every occasion, signed a treaty of peace. The squadron, therefore, once

more returned to Hong Kong. Although the war was over, we were not to

be idle. We had just time to pay our friends a visit on board the

_Roarer_, when we were ordered off in search of pirates, large numbers

of which gentry infested the China seas. Mr Ormsby appointed me to

attend him in the cabin. Little Joss had, from the first, attached

himself to me, and Mr Ormsby, seeing this, allowed him to help me in

the cabin. He looked upon me as an old friend, from our having been

fellow-sufferers, and to show his regard, endeavoured to teach me

Chinese. I must, however, confess, that he learned English far more

rapidly than I did Chinese. We had another mate and midshipman from the

ship, instead of those lost, and they, with Mr Plumb, all messed

together with the lieutenant, as well as the second master and the

assistant-surgeon. Mr Ormsby, being a very particular person, had a

supply of plate, which he put under my charge. It was kept in a chest

with a number of other articles which he had picked up in China, and

valued highly. We had been away some weeks without meeting with any

suspicious craft when one night we saw a bright light burning ahead.

“A ship on fire!” sung out Mr Mason, the officer of the watch.

Mr Ormsby at once came on deck, and ordered all sail to be made to get

up with her. The wind was light; the flames appeared to be rising

higher and higher; we were afraid that we should be too late to render

assistance to the poor people on board. Every stitch of canvas the

schooner could carry was set.

“I would give a good round sum to be up with that vessel,” exclaimed

Dicky Plumb. “A dreadful thing for them to be burnt alive or drowned.”

Several remarks of a similar nature were made; and certainly, if

wishing or whistling would have brought us up to the vessel, we should

have been there quickly enough. At length we could make out the masts

and hull of a brig—a large vessel she seemed; the flames had caught her

sails, and were playing round her spars and masts. Suddenly, as we

gazed at her, the deck seemed to lift; like sky-rockets up rose the

masts; the flames burst up brighter than ever from the hull; and then,

like showers of rockets, down came the burning rigging, hissing, into

the sea; after this the flames raged more furiously than ever; then,

suddenly, there was perfect darkness; a groan escaped the breasts of

many on board. We were too late to save any of the sufferers, still we

stood on towards the spot where the vessel had been. Suddenly a hail

reached us; we replied to it. In a short time we shortened sail, and a

boat came alongside; we had little doubt that she contained some of the

people from the brig; six men soon came up the side, most of them had

their heads and arms bound up.

“Who are you, my men?” asked Mr Ormsby.

“I am the mate, sir, of the brig that just now blew up; we are the only

people who have escaped,” said one of them. “This afternoon we were

attacked by half a dozen Malay prows; we fought desperately, hoping to

drive off the pirates; at length, the master and the other hands being

killed, we jumped into the long-boat and made off, hoping to return to

the brig when the pirates had left her; they, however, set her on fire,

and we were intending to make the best of our way to Singapore when we

caught sight of the schooner.”

The mate expressing his belief that the pirates had stood to the

southward, all sail was made in that direction. The weather had been

threatening for some hours; it now grew worse and worse. Mr Ormsby’s

chief regret was that it might drive the pirate fleet into port. We

made such good way, that soon after noon we caught sight of the vessels

of which we were in search; they saw us, and guessed our intentions,

and away they went before the wind. We stood on, hoping to come up with

them; hour after hour passed by, and they kept ahead. The weather was

getting more and more dirty; still we persevered, and, as the wind

increased, we gained upon them.

“I think I could hit the sternmost of those fellows,” said Ned

Rawlings, as he ran his eye along a gun.

The gun was trained forward. Rawlings, who was one of the best marksmen

on board, fired. The shot struck the nearest prow, and sent the

splinters flying away in every direction.

“Well done, Rawlings?” cried Mr Ormsby.

The gun was again loaded, when just as he fired a fearful crash was

heard; the schooner shook from stem to stern.

“She’s ashore!” cried out more than one voice.

“And we must heave her off, lads!” cried our commander; giving the

order to take in all sail.

The vessel only hung forward; a boat was lowered, and a hawser carried

out immediately astern. We had not struck long before our enemies

discovered what had happened; they now came clustering round us at a

respectful distance, though, having seen the effects of our shot. The

wind, however, was increasing, and the sea was getting up; and there

seemed every probability of the schooner being completely wrecked. I

bethought me, meantime, of Mr Ormsby’s directions. While the men were

working away to heave her off, I went down into the cabin; having

secured a rope round the chest Mr Ormsby had placed under my charge, I

got a long thin line to serve as a buoy-rope, and got hold of a piece

of light wood, out of which to form the buoy. I did not think much, I

own, of the danger we were in. The wind was increasing, the sea was

getting up meantime, and I might have seen that the little craft would

not hold together many hours exposed to such a sea as was likely to

roll in on her. The junks were drawing in closer and closer, just

waiting for the moment when, our masts going, we might be thrown into

confusion; and they would have less difficulty in boarding. Having done

all I could below, I went on deck; the wind had greatly increased, the

seas came rolling slowly in towards us; still, the crew, encouraged by

our brave commander, laboured on. The cable by which we were hauling

off was tight as a harp-string; the men were pressing with might and

main upon the capstan-bars; those who were not thus employed were

ordered to run from side to side—now forward, now to rush aft

altogether. Just then, through the gloom, we observed a heavy sea

rolling in towards us; it might prove our destruction, or—

“Heave, lads! heave!” shouted our commander.

With a bound, so it seemed, as the sea passed under us, the vessel came

off the reef, and was quickly hauled up to the anchor. Had it been

daylight, the pirates would have discovered what had occurred; as it

was, they probably did not find out that we were free. The cable was

brought ahead, sail was made, the anchor was hove up, and away we shot,

close-hauled, clear of the reef.

I had gone below to get supper for the commander, for, as may be

supposed, no one had eaten anything for some hours; soon afterwards he

came into the cabin.

“Hillo! what is this?” he exclaimed, as he got his foot round the

buoy-rope.

I told him what I had done. He laughed.

“Well, Jack,” he said, “you did what every man should do—your duty. You

attended to your own business, and looked after the property placed

under your charge. However, I suspect if the schooner had gone to

pieces, we none of us should have remained alive to tell what had

become of my plate-chest. Still, I will not forget this night’s work,

Jack.”

I heard Mr Ormsby tell the officers that he was not going to let the

prows escape.

“We must wait, however, till daylight,” he observed, “or we may be

getting on shore again.”

Bumping on a pointed rock tries a vessel. Scarcely had we got off, when

one of the carpenter’s mates, who acted as our carpenter, came aft.

“She’s making water very fast, sir,” he said, addressing our commander.

“It’s as much as we can do to keep her afloat till the morning.”

“Rig the pumps, then; and, Mr Norton, send the hands to work them,”

said Mr Ormsby, quite composedly. “We must not let the _Fawn_ go down,

whatever we do.”

In another minute the clank of the pumps was heard, and on it

went—“clank! clank! clank!” I dropped asleep in the midst of it. When

morning broke, a large fleet of prows was discovered about three miles

to leeward; we immediately made sail, and stood down towards them, a

bright look-out being kept for reefs and shoals. The size of the little

vessel evidently encouraged the pirates. Their numbers having been now

increased, instead of running, they stood boldly up towards us.

“We shall see some fun now, Jack,” said Dicky Plumb, “depend on that.”

In a short time we were near enough to open fire on the leading junks.

They, in no way daunted, returned it with their long brass guns and

gingals, peppering us very hotly. I rather suspect that Mr Ormsby now

saw that it would have been wiser had we kept clear of such gentry,

especially in the sinking condition of the schooner; as long as the

breeze held, and the schooner was under command, we could run here and

there, raking the prows, and handling them very severely. At length,

however, as the evening was coming on, the wind fell; our enemies, on

this, were seen to get out their long sweeps, and come out towards us

in a body, some on one side, some on the other. It was evident that we

should have to fight for our lives; for the moment, not a man on board

thought of the leak. I got hold of a cutlass, which I could handle

pretty well, and a brace of pistols; Mr Plumb armed himself in a

similar manner. For some time we managed to keep the enemy at a

distance with our guns, which we fired as rapidly as we could load

them. It was now again almost dark. Just as the nearest prow was about

to board, down she went; our men cheered, and redoubled their efforts;

but we had another big enemy on the other side. On she came, though

hulled several times; her crew were ready to spring on board. Mr

Ormsby, aided by Ned Rawlings and one or two others and myself, had run

in a gun, and loaded it; it was quickly run out again, and fired right

down into the hold of the prow. Just as the Malays were about to spring

on board, a thundering noise was heard; flames burst forth, and up went

the vessel into the air; the schooner’s sails were set on fire, and

several of our people were hurt; my face was blackened all over, and so

was Dicky Plumb’s. Down came the wreck of the prow on our deck, while

the limbs of her unfortunate crew were sent right over us, some

sticking in the rigging; this fearful event kept the rest of our

enemies at a distance for a few minutes, and enabled us to put out the

flames, and to clear away the wreck. Scarcely, however, had we done

this, than with fierce cries and shouts once more the prows pulled up

towards us; we met them with further discharges of shot, but though

many of their people were killed, yet a big prow grappled us on either

side. So fiercely did our people fight, that not a man who reached the

deck had time to recover his legs before he was cut down. Joss exerted

himself bravely, and though not big enough to handle a cutlass, kept

bringing ammunition up from below, and then getting hold of a revolver,

did good execution with it, running in and out among the men, and

killing numbers of pirates as they attacked our people with their sharp

scimitars. At length we succeeded in casting off the grapnels which the

Malays had thrown on board; and the breeze catching our topsails, we

stood out once more from between them; we had, by this time, lost four

or five of our men, three of whom were killed outright; and it seemed

too likely, if the Malays were determined to overpower us, they would

do so. Our young commander fought like a lion, and Dicky Plumb, I must

say, fought like a lion’s whelp; no sooner did a Malay show his brown

face over the bulwarks, than Dicky was at him; indeed, all hands were

doing their utmost. I will not boast of myself; in fact, if I had been

ever so great a coward, I should have fought; for I felt very sure, and

so did everybody on board, that if we did not fight, we should one and

all be knocked on the head. Directly there was a moment’s cessation of

firing we had to run to the pumps, and to work away for our lives to

keep the vessel from sinking. Again and again, however, the prows came

round us, and no sooner had we beaten off one set, than others took

their places. At length Mr Ormsby was hit; he sank on the deck. Dicky

and I, who were standing near, ran to help him up.

“Don’t give in, Mason?” he shouted; “fight to the last!”

“Are you much hurt, sir?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Lend me a handkerchief.”

The assistant-surgeon, who was fighting as furiously as any one, now

hurried up, and bound a handkerchief tightly round Mr Ormsby’s leg.

“Give me my sword again!” he exclaimed. “There is some fight in me

yet!”

At that moment several fresh prows were making towards us. Every man on

board would be required to repel them. Our guns were, however, all

loaded ready to give them a warm reception. In spite of the hot fire we

poured aboard them, on they came. Now one of them grappled us on the

starboard bow, while we had another on our quarter. And now, with loud

shrieks and cries, the pirates began to spring upon the schooner’s

decks.

“Lads! we will sell our lives dearly?” exclaimed Mr Ormsby.

“Yes; never say Die?” shouted Dicky Plumb, in a shrill voice.

The crew being divided, some went on the starboard bow and some on the

port side, to repel the boarders. Still it seemed impossible that we

should drive them back altogether. The Malays, from the prow on our

bow, came pouring on board. Mr Ormsby, with Ned Rawlings and Dicky

Plumb, made a dash forward to try and repel them. Just at that moment a

loud, hearty British cheer saluted our ears. A blue light burst forth

at our port bow, and a number of blue jackets were seen climbing up

over the bulwarks, led by no less a person than our gallant captain

himself. We could scarcely believe our senses when we saw them; in

fact, I fancied it was a dream. They soon, however, by the way they

treated the Malays who had gained our decks, showed us that their

appearance was a satisfactory reality. In a few seconds the fore part

of the vessel was cleared; and now, sweeping up, they soon drove off

the pirates who were leaping down on our quarters. In another instant,

the prows were making the best of their way from us.

“We must not let them go free!” exclaimed the captain; and calling his

men into the boats, away they started after the prows. Meantime, we

could see the blue lights from the ship burning a couple of miles away

to windward. The surgeon had now time to attend to Mr Ormsby’s wound. I

was looking out for Dicky Plumb. He was nowhere to be seen. The thought

came across me that he had been killed, or else that the Malays, as

they retired, had carried him off. We, meantime, made sail and followed

the boats. Four prows were captured. We could see their men jumping

overboard as the boats dashed alongside. Daylight at length broke.

There lay the schooner, her decks bloody, her bulwarks shattered, and

her rigging cut up. Portions of wreck floated round us. Not a human

being, however, was to be seen. The four captured prows lay close

together, and half a mile off was the old _Roarer_, standing towards us

under all sail. Captain Sharpe now came on board, and greatly to my

satisfaction Dicky Plumb came with him. He had slipped into the

captain’s boat as he shoved off, as he said, to see a little more of

the fun. The _Roarer_, we found, was on her way to Calcutta. As soon as

we were again free of the pirates, the hands were again sent to the

pumps. Mr Ormsby had done his best to keep the crew ignorant of the

condition of the vessel. It now became evident, however, that, pump as

hard as we could, she could scarcely be kept afloat. Captain Sharpe was

convinced of this as soon as he returned on board. He at once ordered

Mr Ormsby and the other wounded men into the boats. Fresh hands went to

the pumps, but all they could do was in vain.

“All hands into the boats?” shouted our captain.

There was not a moment to lose. I got hold of Mr Ormsby’s sextant and

chronometer, and scarcely had I leaped with them into one of the boats,

than the schooner gave a plunge, and down she went, her pennant

streaming up, the last object seen as she disappeared beneath the

surface. The end of it, however, floated for a few seconds. She had

gone down, it was evident, in shallow water.

“Hillo! what is that buoy floating there?” asked the captain.

My heart gave a jump of pleasure.

“It’s Mr Ormsby’s chest,” I answered, and I told him what I had done.

The launch and pinnace were ordered up, and in a short time the chest

was weighed and safely got on board, and I got highly praised for being

the means of saving it. The surviving pirates being taken out of the

prows, they were set on fire, and we watched them burning to the

water’s edge, while we sailed away after their companions.

“What are we to do with these black fellows, I wonder?” I asked of

Sergeant Turbot.

“Why, I suppose, Jack, they will all be hung, as a lesson to their

friends,” he replied, “not to go and do the same; but to my mind these

fellows are terribly hard to teach.”

Chapter Eleven.

In the Pirate Stronghold.

The navigation of those seas is ticklish work, and we knew that unless

great care was taken, we might run the old _Roarer_ on a rock, as we

had the little _Fawn_, with much more serious consequences—once hard

and fast, we were not likely to get the old barky off again. A lookout

was stationed at the foretop mast-head, and at the fore yard-arms, to

watch the appearance of the sea, and give notice of any change of

colour; while the hands were at their stations, ready to shorten sail,

or to brace the yards sharp up, should any danger appear ahead. Danger,

however, was not likely to deter Captain Sharpe in any course which he

conceived it his duty to follow.

“These pirates must be put down,” I heard him observe to Mr Blunt. “The

only way to do so is to follow them up whenever we can get tidings of

them, to burn their villages and their vessels, and to hang them

whenever we can catch them in the act. They understand no other kind of

treatment. I remember once, in the Mediterranean, capturing a Greek

pirate. We let him go, as he showed a letter from the master of a

merchantman, in which great gratitude was expressed for the way in

which the Greek had behaved. We found, however, that the fellow had

plundered the vessel of everything of value immediately after he had

got possession of the letter. I caught him again the following year,

and asked him how, after once he had been so generously pardoned, he

could think of returning to his piratical ways.

”‘Ah, signore,’ he answered, ‘it is our nature. Had you hung me then, I

should no longer have gone pirating.’

“We put an effectual stop to his career this time, and he submitted

with the most perfect grace; it was our business to hang him—it was his

fate to be hung.”

I did not forget our captain’s remarks. I felt much pleased when Mr

Ormsby sent to desire that I might attend on him while he lay suffering

from his wound.

“I know that I can trust him to you, Junker,” said the surgeon, “and

take care he has his medicine at the exact hour I mark down.”

“I am thankful to have you by me, Jack,” said Mr Ormsby. “You have

behaved admirably, and I shall always be glad to render you any

assistance in my power.”

I will not say that these remarks did not raise me somewhat in my own

estimation. I do not see how it could have been otherwise; and vague

ideas of what I might perhaps become by-and-by, floated through my

mind. I was the son of a marine only, but then he was a sergeant, and

my mother was certainly a lady by birth, though she might have been

supposed to have lowered herself when she married my honest father.

“Well, well, that may be all nonsense,” I thought over and over again,

“and yet, if there is an opportunity, I will try to distinguish myself.

I may, to be sure, get knocked on the head, and then there will be an

end to the matter; but still, people do go through all sorts of

dangers, and come out without even a scratch.” All day long the

_Roarer_ ran on, when towards evening we stood into a bay, where she

brought up. It was supposed that the pirates were hiding away in the

neighbourhood, and during the night a bright lookout was kept, lest any

of the prows, not aware of our vicinity, might be stealing by. I sat

up, as long as I could keep awake, with Mr Ormsby; but at length the

surgeon sent me to my hammock, he or one of the midshipmen taking my

place. He, however, had a good deal himself to do, looking after the

other wounded men. When the sun rose there was not a breath of wind,

the water in the bay looking like a polished mirror, so clear, that we

could see the fish swimming about, far down below the surface. At

length the land breeze came off the shore, the anchor was hove up, and

we once more made sail. I may as well say that this sort of work

continued for several days. Mr Ormsby was gradually recovering, so that

he did not require much of my attendance. Dicky Plumb met me one day.

“Jack,” he said, “I have been making interest, in case there is any

boat-work, that I may be employed, and I have asked, if I go, that you

may go also. Of course the old _Roarer_ herself is never likely to get

hold of any of these fellows. They can see her coming, and hide away

without difficulty, but with the boats it may be a very different

matter.”

The very day after this we brought up as usual in a sheltered bay, the

high points on either side covered with trees completely concealing the

ship. It was dusk before we came to an anchor, so that, unless the

people on shore had been expressly looking for us, we were very likely

to have escaped observation. As soon as the sails were furled, the

captain issued an order for five boats to be got ready, and armed with

provisions for a couple of days, and it soon became known that he

himself intended to lead our expedition in search of the pirates. The

captain went in one of the boats, the second-lieutenant with the master

and two mates in the others. Dicky told me he was going with Mr Mason.

“And you are to take an oar in the boat, as Barket, who belongs to her,

is ill. Depend upon it, we shall see some fun. The captain would not

trouble himself, unless he felt pretty sure of bagging a few pirates.”

There was a thin crescent moon in the sky, just sufficient to enable us

to see the land, but not affording light enough to betray our approach

to any of the people on shore. I should say that two days before we had

fallen in with a trading junk proceeding northward. Captain Sharpe had

questioned the master, and having treated him very liberally, obtained,

I fancy, a good deal of information from him. As the Chinaman sailed

away to the northward, there was no danger of his carrying the

information of our being on the coast to the pirates, had he been so

disposed. He, however, was probably very thankful to us for

endeavouring to put an end to the career of those “ocean gatherers of

blackmail.”

The men, having had their suppers, got ready for the expedition. We all

had pistols in our belts and cutlasses by our sides, while in each boat

there were several muskets besides those carried by the marines. In the

bow of the launch, as also in that of the pinnace, there was a long

brass gun, which could throw a shot well able to send a pirate prow to

the bottom in the course of a few discharges. The captain gave the

order to shove off, and following him closely, the flotilla of boats

pulled away to the southward. I could not help looking every now and

then at the big ship, as her dark hull, and masts and yards rose up

against the clear sky. Our oars had been muffled, so that the pirates

might not be warned of our approach. The only sound heard was the light

splash of the blades, as they clove the calm surface of the water, and

the light ripple caused by our stems as we glided through it. We had to

round a high wooded point, which in a short time hid the ship from our

sight. We now coasted along at some distance from the land, but

sufficiently near to discover any prows which might be at anchor. Hour

after hour we pulled on, but no suspicious craft were seen which might

tempt us to overhaul them. Not a word was exchanged between the

different boats, for sound is carried at night over a calm

sea—especially in that clear atmosphere—to an immense distance, and had

we laughed or talked, we might easily have betrayed our approach.

“Slow work this, Mason,” whispered Mr Plumb. “I hope, however, we shall

have our reward before long.”

We soon after this saw behind us a high wooded point, very like the one

near which the _Roarer_ lay. Just then the captain dropped alongside

each boat, and told the officers to be prepared, as he fully believed

we should find a fleet of piratical prows on the other side. This put

us all on the look-out. Each man might be seen tightening his belt, and

feeling to ascertain that his pistol was ready at hand. Keeping close

together, we followed our brave leader round the point. Scarcely had we

opened the bay, when we made out a large fleet of prows at anchor,

close in with the shore. It would have been difficult to count them.

“Lads,” said the captain, as he again dropped alongside, “I expect you

to be cool and obey orders. You are to attack each prow in succession.

Two will attack one and two the other, and I will move on to wherever I

am most required. No cheering till we are actually on board and the

vessel is our own. We must make sharp work of it, and I hope daylight

will see the pirate fleet either taken or destroyed. No cheering, lads,

now. That is just what I expect you to do.”

Saying this, the captain once more took his position at the head of the

little squadron. How calm and quiet and peaceable looked that bay! Not

a ripple broke the surface of the water, which reflected the stars that

glittered in the clear heaven. Like a snake springing on its prey, the

line of boats advanced towards the prows. Our approach was not

perceived, as far as we could judge. Probably the Malays, trusting in

their numbers, and not aware of the neighbourhood of the ship, kept no

watch. There was one awkward question, which I suppose our captain had

asked himself—Were the people we were going to attack really pirates or

honest traders? He, I conclude, had received information which made him

sure that they were pirates; if not, that they had been, or would be,

if opportunity offered. If they were the gentry who had burned the

merchant vessel and attacked the _Fawn_, they deserved punishment,

there was no doubt about that. Steadily we advanced, every moment

expecting to have a fire of gingals opened upon us. The pirates slept

soundly; not even a dog barked on board any of their vessels. As we got

nearer we saw the masts of a square-rigged vessel rising up in their

midst. She was probably their prize. This made our captain more certain

that they were the pirates he hoped to find. On we steadily went till

the leading boat was within twenty yards of a large prow, two others

appearing close astern of her, while the others were anchored in line,

the barque—for such she appeared to be—inside of all; indeed, from the

way she heeled over, we judged that she was aground. There seemed to be

every probability of our getting on board unobserved, when suddenly a

shout was heard from the deck of the nearest prow, and a bullet

directly afterwards whistled over our heads. Numerous other wild cries

and shouts arose from the nearest vessel, quickly taken up by those

astern of her.

“On, lads!” cried our captain. “Remember my directions?”

Scarcely had he spoken, when his boat dashed alongside the prow, two

others following his example; we pushed on to the next. There was no

time for thought before we were clambering up her side and engaged hand

to hand in a desperate conflict with her dark-skinned crew, looking

still darker in the gloom of night, grinning, and shouting, and hacking

away at us with their sharp sabres, while others fired their matchlocks

and gingals in our faces. Our pistols and cutlasses, were, however,

well matched to them; I kept close to Dicky Plumb, who sprang on board

with the greatest gallantry. The glitter of Dicky’s uniform seemed to

excite the fury of the Malays; three big fellows making a dash at him

together. I turned aside the sword of one fellow who was about to cut

him down; but it would have gone hard with him, had not Ned Rawlings,

who was with us, sprung forward, and with a sweep of his cutlass

settled the other two; the remainder of the crew, finding that

resistance was vain, leaped overboard, and attempted to swim on shore.

No quarter was asked for; the pirates were not accustomed to give it

themselves, and probably expected none. In ten minutes not a Malay

remained alive on board. According to orders, as soon as we had

captured one vessel, we leaped again into our boats, and pulled off to

the next; in another instant we were alongside her, with pikes being

poked down at us, and matchlocks and gingals fired in our faces. Though

two of our men had been wounded, no one as yet had been killed. In

spite of the warm reception we met with, we managed to climb on board,

and we went through much the same scene as that before enacted; we

found the Malays no despicable enemies, for they fought with the

greatest desperation, even when all hope of victory had been lost. As

on board the other vessel, no one would yield; and after a third of the

crew had been killed, the remainder sprang overboard, some being

drowned, others, probably, reaching the shore in safety. It might have

been wise if we had set the captured prows on fire immediately; but

probably our captain wished to recover the cargo of the barque, which

they might have got on board, and therefore spared them till there was

time to search their holds.

We went on from vessel to vessel, not always seeing what became of

those who jumped overboard. We had captured eight or ten in this way,

when the remainder were seen to be cutting their cables, and running on

shore; at the same time, the first vessel we had captured was observed

to be moving; there could be little doubt that the Malays who had

jumped overboard from the other prows had contrived to reach her; as

she was the largest, and had a considerable amount of cargo on board,

they probably thought it worth while running every risk in the hope of

escaping with her. Mr Mason was the first to discover what had

occurred, and ordered us immediately into the boat; we then pulled away

in chase. The prow was making towards a point which formed one side of

the bay; she had already got a considerable start before she had been

perceived. We had had by this time one of our number killed and two

wounded, who, though they persisted in keeping at the oars, could not

put forth their usual strength; one, indeed, had before long to give

up; still Mr Mason persevered, hoping to overtake the prow before she

could reach the shore. As we shoved off from the last vessel we had

taken, he shouted to the crew of the boat which had boarded with us,

saying where we were going; but probably he was not heard, for we were

left to make chase alone. We had four marines with us, who stood up

every now and then, and fired at the enemy, but that only made them

pull away the faster; we were gaining on them, but not very rapidly.

Now and then, the enemy fired at us in return.

“Pull away, lads I pull away!” shouted Dicky every now and then,

helping the stroke oar.

The prow was getting nearer and nearer the shore. It seemed very

doubtful whether we should overtake her before she reached it. Still,

the example set by Captain Sharpe was followed by his officers. His

motto was “Persevere,” so was theirs. At length the prow got within

twenty fathoms of the beach. We were almost up with her, when the other

wounded man I spoke of gave in, sinking down, poor fellow! at his oar.

This hindered us when we were almost up to the vessel. Once more we

were on the point of hooking on, when the prow dashed high up on the

beach. At that moment, a number of men with firearms rushed out from

among the trees and rocks, and began peppering away at us.

“We will board her first, and drive them away afterwards,” shouted Mr

Mason, springing up the side of the vessel.

Dicky Plumb and I followed him, with Ned Rawlings, the marines covering

us with their muskets as we did so. The enemy soon gave way, the

greater number rushing over the bows and wading on shore. We had

recaptured the prow, but just as we were congratulating ourselves on

our easy victory, bright flames burst forth from the fore part of the

vessel, spreading rapidly. To extinguish them was impossible.

“To the boats, lads!” shouted Mr Mason, “or the craft may be blowing up

and carrying us with her. We must punish these fellows, however.”

The warning came just in time. Scarcely had we jumped into the boat and

made towards the beach, than up went the vessel, almost overwhelming us

with her burning fragments; indeed, it seemed a wonder that we should

have escaped, so close were we at the time. Many pieces, indeed, fell

on the outside of us—no large portion, happily, striking the boat. Led

by Mr Mason, we dashed on shore, and with our four marines, who had

fixed bayonets—the rest of us armed with cutlasses—charged the enemy.

They ran away—the wisest thing they could do, but we followed, which

was not at all a wise thing. The Malays first fled along the beach, we

every now and then firing at them; then they turned inland. Still, as

long as we kept sight of them, Mr Mason led us on. Rocks and trees were

on either side of us. Just as we were leaving the beach, I thought I

heard a shout from the boat, in which were the wounded men and a couple

of hands left to keep her afloat. Our blood was up, Mr Mason vowing

that, though the Malays might run fast, he would overtake them. We had

now got a considerable distance from the beach, when our enemies

disappeared. They had evidently concealed themselves among the trees

and rocks. It was equally evident that we had done a very foolish

thing. All we could now do was to retrace our steps; that, however, was

not quite so easy a matter. Before we had moved a hundred yards we

discovered that we had lost our way. With daylight we might have found

it, but in the darkness we could not discover a glimpse of the sea.

Just then we caught sight of numerous dark forms appearing above the

rocks and among the trees. Slowly they closed in upon us. We were

surrounded by our enemies; there was no doubt about that. They were

well armed with matchlocks, for we saw the matches fizzing away at

their belts, while we had only four muskets and half a dozen pistols.

Our cutlasses and the marines’ bayonets would have enabled us, perhaps,

to have fought our way out from among our enemies, could we have seen

it.

“There is no help for it; I am afraid it is all up with us, lads!”

cried Mr Mason, as some fifty armed men pressed closer and closer round

us. “We must sell our lives dearly!”

The threatening gestures of the enemy showed us that we must do this,

if we could not escape. An open space, however, appeared before us.

“Fire, and then charge?” cried Mr Mason.

The order was obeyed. Several of the Malays fell, and on we dashed.

They, in return, however, poured in a shower of bullets upon us, which

knocked over two of the marines, and hit another of the seamen.

“On, on, lads! We must regain the beach!” cried Mr Mason; and we fought

our way on for another fifty yards.

The Malays had, however, in the meantime reloaded their pieces, and a

second deadly discharge was poured in upon us. Our leader fell, as did

the two marines and three more of our men. Ned Rawlings, Dicky, and I,

indeed, were the only ones of the whole party untouched. Hearing poor

Mr Mason groan, Dicky and I stooped down to lift up his head.

“I just now caught sight of the water,” cried Ned Rawlings. “If you

will help him up on my back, I’ll carry him off to the boat.” We

instantly lifted Mr Mason on Ned’s broad shoulders, and as the Malays

did not press on us, there seemed a possibility of success. They,

however, seeing only two persons able to fight, now made a rush towards

us. We, of course, thought our last moments had come. Resistance was

useless. Instead, however, of cutting us down, they seized us by the

arms, wrenched our cutlasses out of our hands, and dragged us along as

prisoners. They soon caught hold of Ned, who, however, would not let Mr

Mason go. He was soon brought up to where we were. Mr Mason could, by

this time, scarcely speak.

“Put me down, my good fellow,” he said, “it is useless; I have received

my deathblow; I only hope these fellows will not murder you and the

lads. Put me down, I beg you; you only increase my suffering by

attempting to carry me.”

Very unwillingly, Ned obeyed him. Mr Mason then made signs to the

Malays, entreating them to spare our lives; and trying to explain to

them, that if they did so, we should certainly be ransomed, and they

would be the gainers. They seemed to understand him, for they held a

consultation together, as if to decide what was to be done with us. It

was an anxious time, for we knew that they were just as likely to

settle to cut off our heads as to allow them to remain on our

shoulders. We, meantime, sat down near poor Mr Mason; he had been shot

in two places, and though we managed to tie handkerchiefs over the

wounds, we could do no more. His voice grew weaker and weaker; at

length he made no answer to our remarks, and when I lifted up his hand

it fell helplessly by his side.

“He’s gone, lads,” said Ned Rawlings. “He was a brave officer, but he

wanted judgment in bringing us into this fix.”

The Malays seemed to have decided to let us live; binding our arms

behind us, they dragged us all three off up the country. At length we

heard some dogs barking, and lights were seen glimmering ahead; and in

a few minutes we found ourselves in the midst of a village of huts,

with bamboo-built walls and roofs thatched with leaves. Dawn was just

breaking. A number of dark-skinned women and children came out,

chattering and screeching, and eagerly pressing round the white

prisoners.

“Keep up your spirits, Jack!” said Dicky to me. “If we put a bold face

on the matter we are more likely to gain their respect than if we allow

them to suppose that we are frightened.”

The inhabitants having satisfied their curiosity, we were carried into

a hut, in which we all three were shut up; the furniture consisting

only of a mat spread on the ground.

“Can’t say I like the look of those chaps,” said Ned Rawlings to me.

“Shouldn’t be surprised but what after all they meant to kill and eat

us. I have heard say that there are some chaps in these parts who do

that sort of thing.”

“I hope not,” I observed. “I think they would have knocked us on the

head at first, if they had intended to do so; and, considering that

they must feel rather savage at having their vessels destroyed, we are

fortunate in not being killed.”

“Well, the wisest thing we can do is to make the best of it,” observed

Mr Plumb; “and as I feel pretty tired I will lie down on this mat and

go to sleep.”

Saying this the midshipman coiled himself up on the ground, and in

another minute was snoring away as if he were in his own hammock. I

felt very much inclined to follow his example; Ned, however, seemed to

think that it was his duty to keep watch, and when I lay down, I saw

him still sitting up, and evidently intending to keep awake. In a very

few minutes I was as sound asleep as Mr Plumb; how long I had slept I

do not know, when I was awoke by the sound of firing, and loud shouts

and cheers in the distance; the midshipman also awoke, and we all sat

listening attentively, hoping that our friends were coming to the

rescue. The sounds grew louder and louder. Ned tried to force open the

door, but though made only of bamboo, the fastenings were so strong

that he could not succeed. Now arose the cries and shouts of the

Malays, and the sound of their matchlocks, as they fought desperately

to defend the approach to their village.

“If they are beaten, they will come in and knock us on the head in

revenge,” said Dicky Plumb. “It cannot be helped, though; I wish we

were out of this, however, for we might then have, at all events, a run

for life.”

The sounds grew louder and louder. It was evident that our captors were

being driven back.

“It is just like our captain,” observed Dicky. “When he found one of

the boats missing, he came on shore to look for her, and then

discovered this village, and determined to attack it, hoping to find us

inside. He will be very sorry when he hears of the death of Mr Mason

and the other poor fellows.”

“I think we could get out through the roof of this place, though we

cannot force open the door,” observed Ned, beginning to climb up the

side.

In a little time he had worked a hole in the thick thatch; in another

minute he was through it.

“Now, sir, catch hold of my hand and I’ll haul you up,” he said to Mr

Plumb.

The midshipman was speedily on the top of the hut; I followed, hauled

up by the same friendly hand, scarcely had I reached the top when the

door of the hut was opened, and we heard several voices utter

exclamations of surprise.

“Follow me,” whispered Mr Plumb; “there is not a moment to be lost! we

must run for it, that’s evident!”

We dropped down to the ground as noiselessly as we could. It was broad

daylight; but, happily, we had got to the rear of the hut, which, as it

seemed, was on the outside of the village. The ground was very wild and

rough, sloping rapidly down towards the sea.

We had got a considerable distance, however, before we were discovered.

As soon as we were seen the Malays pursued us, for they had no

intention that we should escape. Several shots were sent after us, but

from the roughness of the ground, as we kept leaping from rock to rock,

we escaped being hit. Our enemies pursued us, determined to prevent our

escape. If we were active, so were they; and away we all went, leaping

from rock to rock, they jumping as we did. A curious sight it must have

been to any one looking on. A stumble or fall would have been fatal. We

mercifully kept our legs; still, they were overtaking us, when we

caught sight of a party of our own men, who finding that side of the

hill undefended were advancing towards the village. We ran towards

them. And now the tables were turned, and the Malays had to scramble

back as fast as they had come. In the meantime Captain Sharpe with the

main body was fighting his way up towards the village, the road being

desperately defended by the piratical inhabitants. Conducted by us, the

smaller party we had joined now attacked the enemy in flank. They at

length gave way, though they bravely covered the retreat of their women

and children. A large number of the men were killed, but we were too

glad to let the others escape. Having driven out the inhabitants, we

were now ordered to search for booty. We had soon ample proof of the

character of the people by the various bales of silk and cotton goods,

cutlery, and other articles which were discovered in different

store-houses, apparently the property of the Rajah and other principal

men. Having made a thorough search, and collected all the articles of

value to be found, we conveyed them down to the boats. This done, the

village was set on fire in several places, to secure its complete

destruction—no very difficult matter, considering the materials of

which it was composed. We then pulled back towards the barque which I

have before mentioned. Her unfortunate crew and passengers, for she

apparently had had some, were all murdered. Not a human being belonging

to her could be discovered. How the Malays had allowed Dicky, Rawlings,

and myself to escape, we could not at first tell. We had, I should say,

taken a few prisoners, and among them was a lad who was discovered to

be the Rajah’s son. It was concluded, therefore, that they had spared

our lives for the sake of exchanging us for him. Our victory was

complete; for we had captured all their prows, and recovered the

merchant vessel they had carried off. It had, however, been dearly

purchased; for we had lost the best part of a boat’s crew and a boat

which the Malays had destroyed. The cries we heard just before leaving

the beach we found afterwards had been those of our unfortunate

countrymen when they were attacked by the Malays, who had immediately

put them to death. As soon as all the articles of value had been taken

out of the prows and put on board the prize, they were set on fire,

and, burning rapidly, one after the other quickly went to the bottom.

The prize, I should have said, had been hove off the shore. A breeze

now springing up, sail was made, and taking our boats in tow, we stood

back to the _Roarer_. It was hoped that the lesson we had given the

pirates would make them and their friends behave better for the future.

We cruised for another fortnight in search of any similar gentry. The

barque was very useful, as while we lay at anchor, concealed in some

wooded bay, she was sent out to act as a bait, for the purpose of

drawing any pirates from their lairs. Fifty hands were sent on board

her, including a dozen marines, besides which she was armed with four

long sixes and half a dozen brass swivels. After all, however, the

pirates were too wary, and the bait did not take. At length, without

any further success, our time to remain in those seas was up, and

Captain Sharpe had, according to orders, to proceed to Calcutta.

Chapter Twelve.

I Get Promoted.

We brought up for a few days at Singapore. It is a large place,

numerous fine buildings, warehouses, public edifices, and private

residences extending along the shore to a considerable distance, while

the harbour is full of vessels of all nations from China, Japan,

Russia, America, and every portion of the Eastern seas. I had never

before seen such a curious collection of rigs, the _Roarer_ looking

somewhat like a leviathan among minnows. Summary justice was here

executed on the pirates we had captured, many of them having been taken

red-handed from the murder of the crew of the barque. They themselves

died with the most perfect indifference, fully impressed with the idea

that they had lived excellent lives, and that their last act was highly

meritorious. It was necessary, however, to read a lesson to the crews

of the numberless vessels crowding the harbour, who would carry an

account of the execution wherever they went, and show the piratical

tribes that the English were determined to make them change their mode

of life for one of a more peaceable character, and more conducive to

the prosperity of commerce in those regions. The son of the Rajah whom

we had captured was, however, pardoned; and it was made known that this

was in consequence of the way we had been treated by our captors. The

young gentleman was, however, not allowed to return to his family and

friends, but kept at Singapore that he might receive instruction, and

be induced to lead a more creditable life than his father and his

ancestors had probably done. At first he begged very hard that instead

of going to school he might be taken off and hung at the yard-arm as

his friends had been. However, he shortly became reconciled to his lot,

and is, I have reason to believe, by this time a very respectable

member of civilised society.

Sergeant Turbot told me that in his younger days he had come out to

Singapore when it was little better than a sandbank with a few

tumble-down huts upon it, inhabited by the followers of the Rajah,

whose chief occupation was to pounce out and rob all passers-by.

“That was a good many years ago, as you may suppose,” said the

sergeant. “There was, however, at that time, a man out in these parts

who had a head on his shoulders. He was called Sir Stamford Raffles. He

was Governor of Java, which our Government, very foolishly, afterwards

gave up to the Dutch, who owned it before we took it. Well, Sir

Stamford saw that it was very important to have a place to which the

traders in those seas could resort under English protection, and so he

got the Government to purchase the island from the Malay owners, and it

was established as a free port. That was all that was done. People very

quickly came and bought the land and built the warehouses, and the

place became what you now see it.”

We had to keep a bright look-out as we passed through the Straits of

Malacca. We made the northern end of Sumatra and were about a couple of

days’ sail from it when the weather gave indications of a coming

typhoon. All hands were on deck shortening sail when down it came upon

us. Over heeled the old ship, and it seemed at first as if the masts

would be taken out of her, or that she would go over altogether. She

righted, however, and by desperate exertions she was made snug before

any great damage was done. It reminded us somewhat of the one we had

encountered at Hong Kong, but it was not so severe. Had we, however,

delayed another five minutes in shortening sail, it would have made us

look very foolish. All night we lay hove-to, trusting to One who looks

after sailors, but feeling that we could do very little for ourselves.

Next morning by daybreak the weather began to moderate. The hands had

just been sent aloft to shake a reef out of the topsails, when Dicky

Plumb, who was in the foretop, shouted out—

“A vessel on the lee bow! Dismasted! She seems a large ship, sir!”

All eyes were turned in the direction to which Mr Plumb pointed, but as

yet the ship could not be seen from the deck. Mr Ormsby accordingly

went aloft, and soon found that Mr Plumb was right. The _Roarer_ was

accordingly kept away towards her. As we approached her we saw signals

of distress flying from a spar which had been secured to the stump of

the mainmast, and, on passing near her, a man held up a board on which

was written, “We are sinking! No time to be lost!”

There was, however, still a good deal of sea running, and it was no

easy matter for a boat to go alongside a vessel rolling as she was,

without any masts to steady her. Captain Sharpe, however, was not a man

to desert his fellow-creatures in distress; indeed, I may say, it would

be hard to find a captain in the British navy who would do so. We

accordingly hove-to to leeward of the ship, and made a signal that we

would send assistance as soon as possible. After waiting for a little

time the boats were lowered. Mr Blunt went in one of them, and Mr

Ormsby in the other. We watched them anxiously as they pulled towards

the dismasted ship. Now they seemed as if about to be thrown upon her

deck; now they sank down, and it appeared impossible that they could

escape being crushed by her as she rolled over. At length, however,

with great risk they got alongside, and we could see several women and

children being lowered into them, and also a few men. At length they

once more shoved off, and we watched them anxiously as they returned to

the _Roarer_. I was standing near Dicky Plumb at the time they

approached the ship; I saw him fix his eyes intently on one of the

boats; he seized a glass and looked towards it:—

“Yes, I’m sure I’m right! Why, I do believe there is my respected

mother! Yes, and there is the Brigadier and my sisters! Yes, yes! How

wonderful! Pray Heaven they may be got on board in safety!” he added,

with more feeling than I had ever before known him exhibit.

Every preparation had been made by Captain Sharpe to get the people out

of the boats as they came alongside. The young ladies were first lifted

up, for Mrs Brigadier would not go till she had seen them and her

husband safe on board; she came last, and not till then did she

discover that the ship was the _Roarer_, and that her son was on board.

She received Dicky very affectionately; again and again she pressed him

in her arms, and the tears rolled down her somewhat furrowed cheeks. Of

course, his father and sisters exhibited the feeling that might have

been expected. The boats returned immediately to the ship; and, to make

a long story short, all the people from her were got safely on board;

scarcely, however, had the last person left her, when her bows lifted,

and then down she went as if to make a long dive; we looked, and looked

in vain; she was never more destined to come up again.

“Oh, Jack!” said Dicky, a short time afterwards to me, “I am so

thankful that my father and mother, and those dear sisters of mine,

were got safely on board the _Roarer_; suppose we had been too late,

and they had all gone to the bottom! And, I say, Jack, I have been

talking about you; and have told them all the things you have been

doing; and they want to see you, and have a talk with you; the captain,

too, I can tell you, has been praising you, and said—what I have often

said—that you ought to be on the quarter-deck.”

I thanked Master Dicky for his kind wishes; but replied (and I must

honestly confess I did not speak the truth), that I had no ambition

that way, but was very jovial and happy where I was.

“Maybe, Jack,” he answered, “but I rather think you would find yourself

still more jovial and happy as a midshipman.”

Well, I had to go on the quarter-deck, where Mrs Brigadier shook hands

with me, as did the young ladies and the Brigadier himself.

“I have heard a good deal about you, young man,” said the old officer,

taking me aside. “If it had not been for you I should have lost my son;

and, since then, I hear you have done many gallant things. I think also

that there is another reason why Mrs Brigadier is bound to give you a

helping hand. Do you happen to know your mother’s maiden name?”

“Evans, sir—Mary Evans.”

“I thought so,” he said; “Evans was my wife’s name. There were two

sisters: one married a private of marines, and the other a captain, as

I then was; but blood is blood, and I am not the man to deny its

claims. Your father is a fine, honest fellow, and I should not have

been ashamed to call him brother-in-law therefore; in fact, Jack

Junker, you are my nephew.”

I will not say how I felt; indeed, I cannot very clearly. I know I felt

very jovial; and my heart bumped and thumped in a way it had never done

before. I thanked my uncle, the Brigadier, for his kindness; and told

him I was very glad I had been of service to his son—though I little

dreamed at the time that he was my cousin—and that I liked him for

himself; and that ever since I had been on board the _Roarer_ he had

proved a steady friend to me. I confess one thing—I could not help

secretly hoping that my new aunt would not be too demonstrative in her

affection. Dicky soon afterwards came up, and shook me warmly by the

hand.

“You are to be on the quarter-deck from this day forward,” he

exclaimed. “I am so glad! I have not been more jovial for many a day.

The Brigadier is to get your outfit, so you will have no trouble or

bother about the matter.”

This announcement was confirmed soon afterwards by Captain Sharpe

himself, who complimented me very kindly on my conduct on several

occasions; and said that even had not the Brigadier and my aunt made

the application, he himself purposed endeavouring to obtain an

appointment for me on our arrival in England. From that day I entered

the midshipmen’s berth; and, to the credit of my new messmates, I must

say they treated me with the greatest kindness and consideration. Of

course, I was only provisionally a midshipman, but there was no doubt

of my appointment being confirmed by the proper authorities, as

captains have no longer the power they once had of making midshipmen.

Dicky and I had a very pleasant time of it at Calcutta; he, generous

fellow, insisting on calling me cousin, and introducing me wherever he

went. We were both very sorry when at length the ship was ordered away

on her return to England; however, our feelings were not shared in by

the majority of the officers and ship’s company, who rejoiced at the

thoughts of once more returning to the shores of their native land. By

the time we reached England, I found that my father had gone to sea, my

sisters were married, and our poor stepmother had been driven out of

existence by her uproarious offspring. Ned Rawlings, on our arrival, in

consequence of the recommendation of Captain Sharpe, got his warrant as

a boatswain. Sergeant Turbot went on shore with his company, and he

told me that he thought if he was ever ordered foreign again, he must

quit the service.

“As long as I have got a ship’s deck or a plain to fight on—provided

there’s not much marching—it’s all very well, Jack,” he said; “but if I

had to climb a hill, I should run a risk of losing my honour, if not my

life, for up it I never could get.”

I was very glad to find that shortly afterwards he got a snug little

appointment, and was never likely again to be sent to sea.

Little Joss, who had accompanied us to England, remained on shore as a

servant in Captain Sharpe’s family. Becoming a Christian, he had no

desire to return to his own country; and being a faithful and

intelligent fellow, he ultimately became the captain’s butler, a

position he still holds.

I occasionally have the honour of dining with my old captain, and at no

house am I so well looked after by the servants. I always stop

afterwards to have a yarn about the Flowery Land with Mr Joss. He tells

me that he thinks he could do very well at Hong Kong, and I should not

be surprised to find him going off to establish himself there, with the

wages gained during his long and faithful service.

Dicky and I, soon afterwards, through Captain Sharpe’s interest, got

appointed to a smart frigate; and when she was paid off, he having

served his time, received his promotion as a lieutenant. All nonsense

had long since been knocked out of him; and he was a universal

favourite with officers and men, and acknowledged to be as gallant a

fellow as ever walked a ship’s deck.

Captain Sharpe is now an admiral, and highly esteemed in the service.

One of my cousins married Mr Ormsby, who a short time before had been

made a commander; and when I am not at sea I always find a pleasant

home at his house, or at that of my kind-hearted uncle, who, after a

few more years’ service, returned to England, and, in spite of his

liver, has managed to live to a green old age. Mrs Brigadier has in no

way changed; and owing to her exertions, Dicky, in a short time, was

made a commander, and I became a lieutenant—a rank I at present hold.

My friends flatter me, by saying that I am such a very good

first-lieutenant, that it would be a loss to the service to make me a

commander. I am jovial and contented as ever; and after all, in my

opinion, I am in a far more enviable position than many who, as they

think, have risen to the summit of fame.

The End.