mighty bad Chinks leaving the coast lately. These men belong to
tongs--hatchet men--and if you'll take my word for it you will
find plenty of long, black-barreled guns tucked somewhere in their
dunnage. But the hatchet is their game for those they have a grudge
against--hatchets don't make a noise at night."
"They won't get about the decks in my watch, to use any hatchets, or
guns, either, for that matter," I answered. "I'll tuck them in snug to
bed at eight bells."
"Hatchet's a bad thing at night," put in Oleson. "I'll put a heavy
staple on their door after they turn in."
In my watch below I read ancient magazines until I fell asleep. In my
dreams I saw that stout Chinaman's face with the pointed whiskers and
slant eyes peering down over me. In his hand was a little, thin-bladed
hatchet, like a tomahawk, and as I reached up for him I awoke with a
start, shivering in spite of the heat.
The door of my cabin was closed, and my window, or port, was but half
open, sliding as it did upon sills about five feet above the main deck.
A shadow passed even as I looked up, but when I sprang out of my bunk
and slammed the glass open, there was nothing near the opening.
Just twenty or thirty feet distant forward two of the crew were working
on some gear, and the light was still strong enough to recognize them
as Jim and Bill, of Slade's watch. Then the bells of the dogwatch
struck, and I went on deck, swearing at myself for a nervous fool.
I refused to take a gun which hung over my bunk, hating the idea of
doing such a thing, for guns always spelled trouble in all ships I had
ever been in, and I hated the idea of using one. I went on the poop,
and Miss MacDonald was sitting there with her aunt, chatting with the
old man.
"Keep her steady as she goes--sou'west half west," said Gantline, as I
came up.
"Aye, aye, sir," I answered, and was about to go aft to the wheel, when
the young lady spoke to me.
"I have just asked the captain to allow me to read a chapter from the
Bible to those Chinamen," she said, "and, if you will assist me, we
will gather them close together on the deck there"--pointing to the
main deck. "I can stand upon the edge and see them better. You don't
know whether they can speak or understand English, do you?"
"I think they understand me at times," I ventured, "but I'm a bit
doubtful about the kind of talk you will toss them."
"Toss them? What do you mean?" she asked.
"Why, I mean--well, they understand the kind of English we use at
times--I don't know how to explain--it isn't a written language----"
"I should sincerely hope not," said Miss MacDonald meaningly.
"Yes, but, my dear, it is so expressive--I heard you talking to them
during dinner to-day," interrupted her aunt.
I blushed a little. "Well, then, that's what I mean," I said. "I don't
want to say that I think you are wasting time reading to them--you know
they have a religion of their own--one that antedates ours--they won't
take it right."
"That's a question we won't discuss at present," said Miss MacDonald.
"There are many Christianized Chinamen at home, and they seem to
appreciate it very much."
"Always, if there's a pretty woman to teach them," I snapped.
There was a silence after this. I had been rude, I suppose, but I was
only telling the truth. I went to the break, or edge, of the schooner's
poop, and called the watch, which had been mustering on deck.
"Get the coolies aft to the mast," I ordered.
The men passed the word along, and two or three Chinks who understood
English as well as I did came slouching aft. Gradually about two
dozen stood or congregated near enough to hear, but Yellow Dog and
his slant-eyed chum of the walrus mustaches seemed to decline the
invitation.
"Couldn't you get the large man, their leader, to come also?" asked the
lady.
"Not without dragging him lashed fast," I protested.
"Very well," she said, with just a bit of temper in her voice.
Gantline had gone below, and I was in charge of the deck until supper
was over. The reading would not take long, and the steward was already
bringing the cabin mess aft along the gangway. The young lady read
calmly, and with a peculiarly sweet voice, that attracted the attention
of the men, but not of the coolies.
The Chinks stood about, and some gazed out over the sea, some grinned
openly up at her, with a smile that told of tolerance for an imbecile.
Miss MacDonald, senior, went below to prepare for supper.
Before the girl had finished, Yellow Dog came aft, and gazed at her in
open admiration. He made some remark to his stout friend, and they
both smiled sardonically, but their attitude was not particularly
offensive.
I found some business at the spanker sheet, and when I came forward to
where the girl stood, she was finishing.
"There is only one way to treat heathen, Mr. Garnett," she said, "and
that is to be always kind, universally even-tempered, and gentle with
them. They have had a hard road for many generations, and take to
kindness, as all lower creatures do. They will only get stubborn if you
use hard words and roughness. I know something about their habits, for
I've taught the school at home, where we had twenty pupils, all grown
men."
At this I protested. I confess I was hot.
"If you are kind to them they will think you're afraid of them," I
declared. "If you mule-lick them, hog-strap them, and generally beat
the devil out of them, they'll do as you tell them--not otherwise. I'm
not running a school aboard here, if you please, and while I will give
you any assistance you want or can get, I go on the log right now that
as far as we handle these men, we must beat them and lick them into
submission. There's no other way at sea. It's brutal, but the other way
will turn out more brutal. I'm not responsible for them being in this
ship--but I'll see they get to their port of discharge, all right, if I
have to flay them alive!"
"I think you are perfectly horrible--perfectly, brutal to say such
things," said Miss MacDonald. "Are all seamen brutes? Does the captain
stand for such things aboard here?"
"There is only one way to do with cattle of this sort," I insisted.
"I don't want the job--I'd rather run in a bunch of snakes. But a
ship's bound to be run the way ships are run. There isn't any new way
to run a ship, believe me. It's all been tried out hundreds of years
before you were born. Perhaps some day, when we don't need ships, the
brotherly-love racket will work all right; but not these days."
"I don't believe it, anyhow," said the lady, "and I'm amazed that a man
of apparent intelligence should say such things. You should do unto
others as you would have them do unto you--always."
"Quite so," I assented, somewhat nettled at the idea that a young lady
should give me points on running a ship. "I always do, always do unto
the crew or those coolies the same as I would expect them to do to
me--if I was the same kind of rascal they are--and if our places were
exchanged. There can be only one man in charge of the deck, the watch
officer, and he's responsible for everything that happens. And if I
would be so bold as to give you a bit of advice, I should say to you,
for God's sake don't try any foolishness on those yellow-skins while
they are under my charge. It'll only make trouble, and there'll be
enough of that, anyhow, by the way things look."
"What do you mean?" asked Miss Aline.
"I mean that Yellow Dog, as the skipper calls him, that big Chink, is
not liking ship's discipline already. If you will go near the door
of the alleyway when they open it you will smell the fumes of opium
strong enough to knock you down. They don't pretend to obey orders, and
the company makes us carry them and take care of them like they were
babies. We can't even search them or offer any kind of protest--they'd
refuse to come if the contract was not drawn that way."
"Well, be kind to them, be always lenient with them," said Miss Aline,
in a tone so different, so pleading that I gave up. "Don't yell at them
like I heard you to-day. It isn't dignified, it isn't right--you will
be good to them, now, won't you?--just try it and see if it don't work."
"Ho, well, I'll try to do the best I can, of course," I answered,
thinking of the stout pirate with the hangers. "Yes, I'll try to
be just as kind as I possibly can--of course, I'll promise you
that--that's the skipper's orders, you know."
The steward had already brought the mess things for the cabin, and
the lady went below to join her aunt and the old man--and Slade. The
mate was not standing for my line of talk, as I could see by the way
Miss Aline spoke, and it made me warm to think that a mate of Slade's
attainments should be so mushy as to snicker and grin when I told him
how things stood.
"'Keep solid with the passengers'--that's one of the old rules in the
express steamers, you know--'keep right with the ladies,'" he said,
grinning at me when I mentioned the missionary work the young lady
had undertaken. "And, by the way, lend me a couple of your clean
collars--you won't need them right away, and I do."
"I'll do nothing of the kind," I answered shortly.
"Oh, don't get rattled because I've got the inside route. Don't be mad,
old man, because I've gained the weather of you. All's fair in the
game. And between you and me, if the Chink gets gay with you, bang him
on the nut for fair, and I'll slip in with you--if it's dark. But you
don't want to queer me below. Now, be sane, and come across with those
collars. I'm young and single--and mate, see?"
"Go to the devil!" I answered, but I knew Slade would go to my room,
instead, and nail those white-laundered collars I had kept clean.
That night, when I turned in, I found that, indeed, Slade had been
below, and had rummaged my things about most unkindly, taking my linen.
I turned in with a feeling of resentment at his luck in position, but
I dismissed the feeling quickly as the absurdity of the affair dawned
upon me, for, after all, I was not thinking of women at all, and had no
right to under the present high salary I was drawing.
Rolling into my bunk, I was instantly asleep. In my dreams I saw that
walrus-looking Chink. His long black feelers hung down over me, the
points piercing my vitals like tusks. I gave a yell and awoke!
The lamp was burning dimly, as it always did in my room at night, ready
for the sudden call to the deck, and I could see everything distinctly
the moment I opened my eyes. A face was just leaving the glass of my
window. I sprang out of the bunk, and peered out through the glass. At
that instant there was a heavy rat-tat-tat upon the door, and the voice
of Jim Douglas, of Slade's watch, called to me that it was eight bells,
and time to turn out. I threw open the door.
"Did you look in through my window?" I asked him.
"No, sir; I wouldn't do anything like that, sir," said the seaman.
He was a good-looking young Scotchman of twenty-four, tall and strong,
with an honest face. I knew he was telling the truth.
"That's all," I said, and he went on his way.
I looked at the gun that hung over my shelf at the bunk head. It was
one I took off a dago named Louis, of my watch, and it was a heavy gun,
forty-five caliber, and long in the barrel.
"Perfectly absurd to think of it," I muttered to myself. I pulled on my
coat, and started for the deck, when something, some instinct, told me
to take the weapon.
"Sentiment be hanged!" I said out loud, and tucked the revolver in a
rear pocket. Then I made the deck, and found Slade standing at the
mizzen waiting for me.
"We'll raise the land before morning," said he. "She's been running
like a scared rat all night. Keep a lookout, and when you sight
anything sing out to the old man--he'll be on deck probably, but he's
been acting queer lately, and you better watch him. We'll heave her to
for a pilot, and you know the rest."
"All right," I answered.
The soft, damp air of the trade wind made the decks soaking wet. The
low hum through the rigging added to the murmuring of the side wash.
The creaking of sheet blocks and slight straining of the gear were
the only noises that broke the stillness of the peaceful night. The
schooner was running along rapidly, heeling gently to the wind, and
everything drawing. The rolling motion was slight, for the wind was
strong enough to hold her steady.
The voices of the watch forward sounded above the murmuring, and I
could see the glow of a pipe belonging to some one who disregarded the
ship's discipline sufficiently to smoke while on duty. I took my place
at the mizzen rigging to con the vessel, and stood there silently for a
long time watching the foam rushing past her, now and then gazing far
ahead to see if I could raise the lights of Pearl Harbor. The wind was
almost astern, and the headsails were consequently not doing much work.
I listened to the slatting, and then sang out:
"Haul down the jib topsail and roll it up."
"Aye, aye, sir," came the response, and the men went to the forecastle
head.
Aft at the wheel the shadow of a man holding the spokes was the only
sign of life on deck. I took my place again at the weather rigging, and
waited for the report from forward.
A heavier swell than usual rolled the schooner, and I turned to look
aft. At that instant something whizzed past my ear, and struck with a
chugging sound into the backstay. My ear stung sharply, and something
warm ran down my neck. I saw a form vanish behind the mast, and called
out.
I knew I had been struck, and drew my gun, springing toward the figure,
which dashed silently across the deck as I gained the mast. I fired
at it without hesitation, and the fellow let out a scream, gained the
rail, and plunged over the side.
I was at the rail in an instant, but saw nothing in the foam. A
moment's silence followed, and then a sound of steps and a rising
murmur of voices told me of the alarm.
Gantline was on deck in less time than it takes to tell it, and he
roared out: "What's the matter?"
Slade sprang from the door of the forward cabin, calling out that he
was coming. Men from forward rushed aft. Then, from out of the doors
of the alleyways, a stream of figures poured forth, flowing like a
black tide onto the main deck. A sudden roar of voices followed, and I
recognized the high-pitched tones of our coolies.
"All hands--help! All hands aft--quick!" I yelled, and fired into the
black figures who swarmed up the poop and crowded upon me.
As I fired, I heard the shrill screams of the elder Miss MacDonald,
and then there was indiscriminate firing. I yelled to Slade, and he
answered once. The crowd surged over me, and I was down, with a dozen
panting heathens on top of me. In a minute it was all over. Some one
passed a line about my arms, and, kick as I might, they soon had me
snug and fast. Gantline roared out orders from the wheel, and I heard
the crack of a pistol at rapid intervals. Then a roaring, surging mob
rolled over him--and there was the schooner luffing to under full sail,
her head sheets thrashing and the canvas thundering in the stiff breeze.
They had taken her. We were overpowered, all right. The men forward
stood it out but a moment longer, and surrendered.
When I could see again I noticed the giant form of Yellow Dog standing
near the wheel, and two of his men at the wheel spokes. He sang out
orders in his musical bass voice, and the sheets were quickly trimmed
in. The schooner now headed well up with the wind abeam, and pointed
away across the Pacific, far to the northward of Hawaii. Yellow Dog had
taken her easily.
I was hauled below, and tossed into the forward cabin. Here I found
Slade lashed fast, like myself. He was hurt by a bullet that had torn
his thigh, and was bleeding. Upon a transom lay Gantline, trussed from
head to foot in line, and the old skipper was swearing fiercely at the
ill fortune that had overtaken his ship.
I noticed a few Chinks standing near the door of the after cabin, and
they looked at us casually, seeming to regard us not at all. Then I
heard the soft voice of Miss Aline pleading with Yellow Dog. But of
course she might have pleaded with the sea with as much effect. Then
the sounds died away, and we lay there, waiting for daylight and what
might follow.
Daylight came, and the schooner still held her way under all sail
except the jib topsail that I had hauled down before the fracas. She
now lay at a sharp angle, and felt the trade wind upon her starboard
beam.
Yellow Dog came into the forward cabin. He stopped a moment near me,
then kicked me savagely, muttering strange sounds in his own language.
I told him fluently in good seaman's English just what I thought of
him, and if he did not understand me he was something dense, for I've
had every kind of human under the sun on my ship's deck, and I have so
far failed to notice any who could not understand me when I let off a
few pieces of literature or oratory.
Yellow Dog seemed rather pleased than otherwise, for he called his man,
the walrus-mustached one, and grinned while they held a confab. I took
it that something choice would be handed me within a very short time.
When I had a chance to ask the skipper, he told us we were within forty
miles of Pearl Harbor. From the way we nosed into the breeze, the
schooner was now heading northwest across the ocean, giving the harbor
a wide berth.
"What'll they do?" I asked him.
"Sink her, with us aboard--take the ten thousand dollars in the safe,
and make a get-away with it. They'll turn up ashore in some deserted
place, and that'll be about all. Then they'll divide the swag,
separate, and Yellow Dog will go his way--probably back to China. It's
not much money when you think of it for a white man, but it's a whole
heap for a Chink."
After the day had well advanced we heard noises on deck. The foresail
was lowered, or, rather, let go by the run, the noise of tearing gear
sounding plainly. Topsails, staysails, and everything forward except
the jib were cut away. Then the spanker was lowered, and left threshing
about, half up, with the sheet hauled amidships. The jib was hauled
to the mast, and the schooner lay hove to in the trade swell, riding
easily upon the sea, and remaining very steady.
We heard them getting out the boats, and there was much noise from aft
where the safe was fast to the deck in the captain's cabin. Finally a
terrific explosion took place there, and after that the noises died
away.
"Blew it," said Slade.
A smell of smoke now began to be apparently in the confined air of the
cabin.
"Good Lord! Are they going to fire us?" asked the mate.
"Safest way, I suppose. Knock a hole in her bottom first, set her on
fire, and then get out," I said.
"But the girl?" asked Slade.
"Oh, Yellow Dog will take care of her--probably take her along with him
in the boats."
"Not if I know it. Man, do you know what that means?" he panted,
straining at his wrist lashings.
"Well, it's a mighty bad outlook, but if you can stop it, sing out;
I'll help," I said.
The smoke grew more dense in the confined space. The noise of hoisting
gear died away, and the shouts of men from a distance told that they
already had the small boats over, and were alongside.
Slade strained away at his lines, and I did, also, but we were fast.
Gantline muttered on the transom, and began to choke with the smoke.
Suddenly a form burst into the room. It was Oleson, the carpenter. He
slashed at our lashings with a heavy knife, and in a moment we were
free.
We dragged ourselves out on deck, crawling to keep below the rail, so
that we could not be seen from the small boats. Two forms lay right in
front of a door--two of our men who had been killed. Not a sign of a
wounded Chink, or dead one, either. They had taken them along if there
were any.
"I cut loose," said Oleson; "rubbed the lashings on a broken bottle
they left on deck near me. They've knocked a few holes in her, and
it's up to us to stop them up before the schooner sinks. She's on
fire forward--whole barrel of oil poured over her decks and lit up
before----"
"Looks like they have her either way, then," said Gantline. "But we'll
try the fire first, and take a chance at her settling under us."
I peeped over the rail and saw the boats--three of them--about a
mile distant. Then Slade and I ran below aft. The two passengers had
apparently gone with them, and the cabin was empty. Gantline, with
Oleson and six men left alive aboard, fought the fire, and we joined
them.
Half an hour's work and we had the fire out, but it had played the
mischief with the running gear, having burned up plenty of line that
lay on the deck. Oleson and Slade went below forward, while Gantline
and I went after to find where they had knocked holes in her bottom.
The sound of rushing water told us the position of the leak almost
before we reached the lower deck. They had not done much of a job,
having cut squarely into her just below the water line, trusting to the
fire to finish their work for them.
Calling all hands, we jammed a mattress into the hole, and then passed
a tarpaulin down on the outside. Oleson spiked planks over the wad,
and we had a fair stopper on the place. Then we set to work to get the
canvas on her.
Yellow Dog, finding that the schooner was not burning quickly, put back
in his boat to see what the trouble was. We were then at the gear, and
he soon saw us. His men sent the boat along with a will, and they drew
close aboard in a few minutes.
We were now without arms, and he seemed to be satisfied that he would
get us without trouble. It was blowing fresh, and the schooner was
drifting bodily to leeward.
We crammed the oil-soaked stuff from her decks into the donkey boiler,
and as the fire was already burning, and steam was almost up, we
waited, while some of us hoisted the headsails and swung her head off
before the wind. The mizzen was swayed up, and in a few minutes the
schooner was under good headway, sliding along at four or five knots,
and keeping the boat at a distance.
"Now, then, my hearty, we'll soon fix you," said Gantline.
Between moments of desperate work we had a chance to see that the other
boats were also coming back after us. At the present rate we were
holding our own, and Yellow Dog stood no chance to catch us, but he
kept on, and managed to get within a couple of hundred yards.
From here he opened fire upon us with the heavy six-shooters, and we
heard the spat of the lead in the canvas, but for ourselves we kept
below the rail, and the power of a revolver was not enough to bother us
exceedingly.
Soon Oleson announced that we could put the halyards to the winches,
and we sent the foresail and mainsail up in no time. Then we set the
spanker and had all the lower canvas on her.
The schooner lay well over under the pressure, and we sent her along a
good ten knots, while we cleared up the gear and made things shipshape.
The boats were soon black specks in the sunshine.
"Now, then, let's get to work on that yellow boy right," said the old
man.
"No, don't let him get too far away from us," said Slade. "The two
ladies are in that boat with the big Chink, and we better attend to it
first."
We hauled our wind and began reaching back, the boat with Yellow Dog
being kept right under the jibboom end.
"I reckon I'll take the wheel and you go forward, Mr. Garnett," said
Gantline.
"Will you run him down?" I asked.
"Without any mistake at all--if you'll give me the course right when he
gets in close," said the captain.
"But the ladies, the passengers?" said Slade.
"We'll do the best we can for them--just as well to get killed that way
as to get away with those fellows, isn't it?"
The men took to the idea at once, and we grouped close under the
shelter of the windlass, watching the schooner run. She was going a
full ten, and rising and falling with a rhythmic motion, her side,
where the patch was, being almost clear of the sea.
Yellow Dog saw us, and knew what we intended to do. He swung his boat
around and pulled dead into the wind's eye, knowing that if we missed
him we would not get a chance to strike again until we beat well up
to windward of him. He would make it warm on deck as we came close,
and Gantline took the precaution to place a few boards against the
binnacle, so that he could crouch behind them when the firing began. I
was to wave my hand which way he should steer, and he was to keep me in
sight readily.
We drew rapidly up to the boat. Yellow Dog stood up in the stern, and
held a long, black-barreled revolver in his hand.
We crouched lower, and the schooner bore down upon the boat. I waved
my hand to starboard, and Gantline gave her a few spokes. Yellow Dog
backed water, and the boat would have gone clear of the cutwater, but
at that instant a heavier puff of wind heeled the schooner over, and
she luffed to a trifle, her cutwater rising upon a swell.
Then, with the downward plunge, she shored through the small boat,
striking it fairly amidships.