A man came running in with a letter, talking very fast. He gave a horrid
smile when he had read it. "It’s from your fool Captain. Wants to know
whether you’re alive, and says if any harm comes to you, he’ll do I
don’t know what."
"Go back upstairs and don’t move till I tell you;" and he sat down at
the writing-table.
"Please tell the Captain that I’m well, all but my arm, and that it was
my fault that I was captured, not the Commander’s," I asked him, because
I had been worrying about that all the time, and knew that the Commander
must have had an awful time with Captain Lester, and that that would be
unfair. I knew jolly well that I’d made an ass of myself, and made
things worse and more difficult for everyone by getting myself and
Martin taken prisoners.
He nodded grimly.
"Do tell me whether they all got away safely last night?" I blurted out.
"They left one marine dead, no one else." He began to work himself into
a passion again. "My men almost got out of hand last night—I’d a hard
job to keep them back—and if that old fool of yours lands again I shall
lose all control over them. He won’t believe what I wrote to him, so
I’m going to write it stronger this time. If he comes lumbering along
here they’ll all see ’red’, and kill every white man they can get hold
of—and woman." Then he suddenly came across and gripped my shoulder.
"A thousand years ago—eight hundred years ago—a girl wouldn’t marry a
man unless he did something to win her—sacked a town and carried her
off. Now they want flowers, and chocolates, and candies, and pretty
speeches—ugh!"
Then he grew calmer.
"Go along up now—Ford your name is, I see—and wait till dusk. I’ll try
and get you all over to that walled house. It’s your only chance."
I was just going, when he called out, "In case anything happens, you had
better take this," and he opened a drawer and pulled out a revolver and
a couple of packets of ammunition. "They say it’s easier to die
fighting," and he turned his back on me.
Feeling very frightened, and not quite understanding what he’d been
talking about, I crawled upstairs, the Chinaman outside the door scowled
at me, opened it and shut it after me, and I heard him swing the big
wooden bar into its hole.
Martin and Miller were asleep—they evidently had had a jolly good
meal—and presently a funny, jovial, fat old Chinaman came along and
looked at my arm. He took my coat off and cut the sleeve of my flannel
shirt, and the arm was a most horrid sight, absolutely all mottled
purple from the elbow to the shoulder. He showed me two tiny holes,
made a "poof" noise with his lips, darted his finger as if it was a
bullet, and nodded at me kindly. Then I knew that it was a bullet that
had broken the bone. He put on cotton wool and proper splints and
proper bandages, and slung the arm up to my side and across my chest,
under my shirt, and helped me on with my monkey jacket, and sewed my
sleeve to the side. Really the old chap made me very comfortable.
He woke the others too, and did Martin’s arm—the collar bone was
broken—and cleaned Miller’s head, and then went away, apparently quite
honoured at being able to show his skill. I quite loved the old chap,
and he made me so comfortable that I lay down, and when my head was
quite still it did not throb so much, and I got in a jolly good sleep.
I woke and found the room quite dark, and Miller and Martin both
snoring. My head was quite clear now, and I felt much stronger, groped
about, and managed to get hold of that bowl of water, drank a little,
and then propped myself up against the wall and wondered when that
Englishman was going to take us away to Mr. Hobbs and Sally. It was so
exciting to think that I should see them soon, that I really forgot that
we were prisoners for some time; but then, after waiting and waiting,
and hearing nothing except those snores, I began to feel frightened and
miserable. I could think now without my head burning inside, and then I
thought how I had muddled up all Captain Lester’s plans, and "washed
out" all that I had done for him. If I had only been man enough not to
have minded Captain Marshall’s chaff, I shouldn’t be here, with my arm
broken and a prisoner, and with Martin too; and I was so wretched, that
I wished that I had been killed instead of Tuck, that marine whom I had
seen fall and dig his nails into the ground. After all I had been
longing to do, it had simply come to this, and I snivelled a little, in
the dark, for there seemed to be nothing more worth living for.
Presently there was a loud boom a long way off, and almost directly
afterwards, the sound of a very big shell bursting. That wasn’t very
near either, but I knew jolly well that nothing could make that noise
except one of the _Vigilant’s_ eight-inch guns, and I could feel my head
throbbing inside again with excitement, and wondered what was happening.
Then more came, and other smaller ones, from quite a different
direction. I had seen an opening in the wall—you couldn’t call it a
window—just outside the door, and I thought that perhaps the Chinaman
would let me look out; so I groped round until I felt the door, and
rapped on it with my knuckles. They didn’t make much noise, and I
kicked it with my feet, and then listened to hear if anyone moved; but
there wasn’t a sound.
I tried to shake the door, and it seemed to "give" towards me, and then
to stick in the frame—I felt certain that the wooden beam was not in
place—but I couldn’t make it budge any more. I woke Miller, and he came
across and got his fingers in a crack and pulled, and the door creaked
and opened, almost knocking me down. We peered through the darkness and
listened, and presently I could hear a clock ticking—it was that old
clock I had seen in the Englishman’s room.
"I’m going down," I whispered to Miller. "Help me off with my boots."
I got them off, felt that the revolver was still in my pocket, and began
creeping down that spiral staircase, keeping to the outside and feeling
the wall with my one hand. Every step creaked most horribly, and I
waited, trembling, each time, but nothing happened, and then I had
turned the corner and saw the bottom, and that some lamplight was coming
out of that room.
"Are you all right, sir?" I heard Miller whisper; and I whispered back
and felt braver, and got out the revolver and crept down. I couldn’t
hear the clock, because my heart was beating so horridly, but I got down
to the door and looked in. There was a lamp burning on the
writing-table, but not a soul there, and I went through, very softly,
into the room where I had had that soup, and there was another lamp
burning there, and any amount of food on the table. It looked as if
someone had only just finished a meal—a book and a fork were lying on
the floor, and the chair had been upset.
There was a dark place beyond, with a flickering light in it, as if a
fire was burning; but I wasn’t plucky enough to go in there, ran back to
the foot of the stairs, and could just see Miller’s scared face looking
down. I beckoned to him to come down, and he did so, making an awful
noise, and Martin came too. They got hold of one of the lamps, and I
didn’t mind going into the kitchen place then. It was quite empty;
there was no one there. A funny-looking kettle hung over a small wooden
fire, on a big flat stone, and was singing very quietly, and there was a
saucepan full of cooked potatoes. They were quite warm, and I seized
one and began to eat it. It was jolly good.
Miller and Martin were so hungry, that they forgot everything else, and
ran back to the table and began "wolfing" food.
I had never thought of escape till now; but it flashed across me that
perhaps we could get away, and I went back to the foot of the stairs and
followed a long passage, towards where I felt some cold air, and
suddenly came to an open door, and put my head out.
You know what happens when you open the door of a rabbit hutch, and the
rabbits come and pop their heads out, and swizzle their noses and blink
their eyes, and look as if they didn’t believe it, and run back again?
Well, that was exactly how I felt and what I did. I ran back to Martin
and Miller and told them, and they left off eating and came along with
me, and we all three looked out.
It was quite dark, except for some stars overhead, and it seemed to be a
small courtyard. We stepped out very gingerly—I had my revolver in my
hand again—and we searched round, and found a high wall all round, and a
very big door all studded with iron bolt heads, and with several thick
beams across it.
We couldn’t hear any noise near us, but there was a funny murmuring,
buzzing sound some way off, and just like the sound of the mob at
Tinghai that night of the fire, and far away we could hear big guns, and
shells bursting.
"That’s our old eight-inch, sir," Miller whispered, as one especially
loud report shook the door. "I expects the old man—beggin’ your pardon,
sir, Captain Lester—is coming along to look for us." The smaller
noises, right in the other direction, he said was probably the
_Ringdove_ and the _Oh-my-eye_ on the other side of the island (the
bluejackets called the _Omaha_ the _Oh-my-eye_). We couldn’t really
quite understand why they were firing, but it was jolly comforting for
all that.
I wondered what had become of the Englishman and the Chinaman who had
been guarding us, and the servant, and wished he would come back to take
us to that house on the hill. Now that I had a revolver, I thought that
I might still be some use in defending Sally, if once I got there.
I slipped back into the house to see if perhaps he was lying down on the
bed and I hadn’t noticed him, but he wasn’t. The clock showed a quarter
past eight, and I knew that it must have been dark for more than an
hour, and felt frightened. The noise of the mob seemed to be getting
louder and nearer too, and I ran back to Miller and Martin, who were
still near the gateway.
Just as I got to them we heard some feet pattering along the street
outside, and then more and more, and they stopped outside it and began
pressing against the gateway, and then began banging at it with
something hard.
The bangs seemed to go right through me. I was awfully frightened.
More people came rushing along; there was a fearful din outside; we
heard something scrape against the wall, and someone scrambling up. I
looked up and saw a man’s head just above me. He was crawling over the
top, and was just getting his legs over. I let my revolver off and he
dropped back again, though I don’t think he was hit, and the crowd began
yelling like mad.
A rifle went off, the door splintered, and something flew past me.
Martin pulled me to one side. "Keep out of the way, sir;" and the two
of them hunted round for some piece of wood or other, and came back with
some thick sticks. Stones began dropping over, and we crouched under
the wall to dodge them. They came in hundreds all over the courtyard,
and knocking up against the house. There was a terrific crash against
the great gates, and they sounded as if they were giving way.
"We’ll be scuppered, sir," Martin groaned.
"Run for the house," I whispered; and we rushed back. One stone nearly
hit me, and I heard a thud and Miller cursing; but we all got inside and
slammed the door, and fumbled about to find the bolts.
"Go and get a lamp, sir," Miller shouted hoarsely—Martin was too
frightened to do anything except get in our way—and I darted off.
As I ran along the passage I heard my name shouted, "Mr. Ford, Mr. Ford!
Where are you?" and a short, grey-bearded European came rushing out of
the kitchen place. I thought at first that it was the Englishman, but
it wasn’t.
"Show us how to bar the door," I cried, and he came running with me.
"Quick, mon, quick! Bar it up—that way; there’s the lock—not that way,"
and he shoved Miller aside and shot the bolts in.
I was too frightened to ask him who he was, and even to remember that I
hadn’t any boots; but Miller sprang up the stairs and brought them down.
The man, whoever he was, wouldn’t let me put them on, so Miller tied the
laces together and hung them over my neck.
"Follow me!" the Scotchman yelled impatiently—I knew he was Scotch by
his accent—and we ran through the sitting-room to the kitchen, and then
we crept through a narrow door. He disappeared into the house, but came
back, and I saw him shove a big key into his pocket.
"Be varry careful," he whispered, and we groped our way down some
irregular stone steps. We could hear them still banging away at the
courtyard door. I kept on bruising my feet and toes in the cracks, and
stumbling, but the old Scotchman always seemed to keep me from falling;
and at last we seemed to be at the bottom, and near some water—I could
hear it lapping against the stones. "Hush!" he whispered, and bent
down, stretched out his hand, got hold of a rope, began hauling it in,
and a native boat came sliding up, out of the dark.
"Get in—quick!" he whispered, and we all stumbled in, one after the
other, and he jumped in after us. Right above us I could see two
lighted windows, and knew they were those two rooms, and as he shoved
off we heard a splintering sound—the big door had given way—and heard
the mob rushing across the courtyard, yelling in the most fearful
manner, and begin banging at the house door.
I had hurt my arm again getting into the boat, and the pain of it must
have numbed me, because I quite well remember that I wasn’t so
frightened then as I ought to have been.
We could just see the strange man standing up in the stern, swaying from
side to side, and working a scull as the boat wriggled through the
water.
"It’s aboot twa hours afore high water, and we’ve the flood wi’ us, the
Lord be praised!" he whispered. "Keep down oot o’ sight," and we tried
to squirm down into the bottom of the boat below the gunwales.
He stopped and stooped down, and we saw that he was putting on some kind
of a Chinaman’s coat and a native cap.
Then he went on again.
*CHAPTER XIII*
*Mr. Ching to the Rescue*
Just in Time—Too Late!—In Hiding—Mr. Ching Arrives—Death of Mr.
Hoffman—The Attack on the House—The Vigilant Signals—The Fog
Increases—Searching for Rifles—Ford finds the Ammunition—Ford
Saves the Situation—Waiting for Daybreak
_Written by Midshipman Ford_
We went wriggling along through the dark, and presently began to pass
between junks—heaps of them. You could see nothing but their tall
leaning masts sticking up like slate pencils. We dodged in and out, and
sometimes a voice would sing out from one of them, and we would huddle
down in the bottom of the boat, whilst the Scotchman replied in what I
suppose was Chinese, and pushed on.
We must have gone like this for nearly twenty minutes, I should imagine,
and then he stopped to take a breath.
"Who are you? Where are you taking us?" I whispered; but he didn’t
answer, and, changing his hands, went on pushing the scull from side to
side very vigorously, but stopped a minute or two later and looked
behind us, where we could all at once see a great red glow, which showed
up the junks we had just passed.
"They’ve set a light to the boss’s hoose," he whispered; "they’ll be
after seeking the little lass the noo." And he worked harder and
harder, and the shadows got darker and the water more narrow, and I knew
that we were getting under some high land, and wondered whether we
really were being taken to that house on the hill. Up over our heads we
could hear a lot of talking and wrangling, and suddenly a rifle went
off, and then another, and we could hear cries, and presently all was
quiet again.
My heart was simply thumping against my side.
"God grant we be in time," I heard him say to himself; and he stopped
sculling for a second, peered through the darkness, and then shot the
boat in till it rasped against some stones.
"Get oot!" he whispered. "Doan’t talk a word, and jest follow me."
We got ashore as quickly as we could. He had a piece of rope in his
hand, and made us all take hold of it, and we followed him along a steep
path. We hadn’t gone ten yards when there were more rifle shots and
more yells.
"The Lord be praised! they’re still shooting ’em," he said, and hurried
along all the faster. I could hardly keep up, and the stones hurt my
feet.
We seemed to be making a long curve away from the noises and the water,
and he kept on losing the path, and we had to shove our way between high
bushes, which scratched us; but then we turned to our right, and could
see the top of a high wall right in front of us.
He broke into a run, we dropped the rope, and ran after him up to a
small door. He fumbled for a moment with the lock, it opened, we crept
in, and he shut it again.
We were in a garden place now, pitch dark, and he led us across it
underneath some trees with low branches. The noise of rifles seemed to
be right in front of us, and we came to the walls of a house with not a
light showing. He knocked at a door; nothing happened. We rushed round
to the other side to a smaller one; he tried his key again, and it
opened, and an old Chinese woman with a tiny lamp in her hand, and her
mouth open with fright, was looking down at us.
The Scotchman turned to me. "Go in there; Hobbs and his lassie are
there. Get them here in two minutes; I’ll be back then. We must get
them away. Quick, for God’s sake, boy!" and he disappeared.
I went in, and heard Sally’s voice singing out—very frightened and very
sad, it seemed, "Who’s that? Is it Captain Evans?"
"Midshipman Ford of the _Vigilant_," I called out, not knowing the least
who Captain Evans was. "We’ve come to take you away." My aunt! I was
proud then; for it suddenly struck me that, after all, I should be able
to do something for Captain Lester. Everything had really seemed to
work out right, and I expected Sally to come tearing down, and was jolly
glad that there wasn’t enough light for her to see me; but instead, I
heard a sob and then a fall, and guessed what had happened.
The old woman brought her light, and I saw that she was lying all in a
heap. I hadn’t the least idea what to do. "What d’you do for a faint,
Miller?" I asked. "You’ve been through ’first aid’." I was frightened
again, and didn’t know what to do; but the old Scotchman came rushing
into the house, picked her up, took her into another room, and shook
her. Miller had got hold of some water and shoved it over her head, and
she tried to sit up.
"Where’s Hobbs? Where’s your father?" he called to her loudly; and she
pointed through another door. And we found the little man lying in bed,
looking ghastly; he looked an absolute skeleton.
He began to curse the Scotchman, but I stepped between them. "I’m
Midshipman Ford of the _Vigilant_, sir, come to fetch you and Miss
Hobbs. You must come immediately; these are two of my men."
I must say that we didn’t look very respectable, but we were good enough
for him, and he crawled out of bed and began to dress.
"I’m too weak to walk much, but reckon I’ll do it if it ain’t far.
You’ve been a tarnation long while finding us," he grumbled.