All this time the noise outside was awful—rifles firing, crowds of
people yelling—and stones began to patter against the shutters. The old
Scotchman couldn’t wait any longer, wrapped the little man in a long
Chinese coat, lifted him off his feet, told Miller to bring Sally along,
and ran out of the house. "So long as the boss’s people keep firing,
it’s all right," he told me; and then I saw Miller lift Sally in his
arms, in spite of her struggles, and we all followed, stones flying past
our heads and rebounding from the walls. We went across the garden
under those trees, and made our way back to that small door. The
Scotchman put Mr. Hobbs on his feet, and I heard him trying to get the
key in the lock; but just as he was going to open it, there was the
sound of a whole lot of people running towards it, and they threw their
shoulders against it and began talking very softly.
I was very frightened again, and I heard the Scotchman moan: "Too late!
We’re done for!" and we all fled back to the house.
The front of it was now all lighted up with a red glare, showing above
the top of the wall.
"They’re setting fire to the huts," he cried; "go up to the top room.
Take them up there, bar the door at the front, and block it up with
tables—anything." And he rushed off, came back for his revolver, which
he had given to Martin, and disappeared.
"Guess Sally Hobbs ain’t a ten-cent doll," I heard her sob. "You can
put me down right away." She led us along some passages, up some steps,
and then to the foot of a ladder. The little man got up it like a
monkey, and she followed him.
"Draw it up, and let it down when you hear us call," I sang out; and
then we went back and began to pull along tables and benches and boxes,
everything we could find, and piled them up behind the door in the front
of the house. Before we had finished, the Scotchman came running up
with his hands over his head. "We’re fair lost! God be merciful to us!
The boss’s men want to know where he is, and won’t hold out many more
minutes unless he turns up. They want to open the gates; say they’ll
get their throats cut if they don’t. Jorgensen has been killed—down in
the town—two hours ago—down by that six-inch gun."
"Can’t you do anything?" I asked quickly.
"No, mon, they hate me; and I fear they’ve killed the boss, and no one
else can keep them in hand. They’re all round us, and they’ve tasted
blood, and the mandarins themselves couldn’t stop them.
"Hark!" he said, "they’re beating down the little door in the garden
wall. Oh, God, they’ll be right here in a moment!"
I was in an awful funk, though not for myself, I think, but more because
of Sally. When one isn’t in a funk for oneself it is easier to keep
one’s head. I don’t think that Miller or myself cared a scrap what
happened to us, so long as we could keep Sally safe. The Scotchman told
us to bring any heavy things we could find to block up the door at the
back, and then ran off and brought some rifles and bandoliers.
We bolted the door and piled everything we could find against it, and
then ran round, barring the shutters. We didn’t need any lamp, because
the red glare streamed through the cracks and lighted up the whole
place. The old woman had disappeared. Then we picked up the rifles and
bandoliers, and he led us to the ladder, Sally crying out and lowering
it. We all swarmed up and drew it after us.
The room was a small square place, with stone walls and narrow
openings—you could hardly call them windows—in each wall. They were
closed with iron shutters, and the one looking over the front was open,
and the whole place was lighted up. The Scotchman and I looked out, and
it was a most awesome sight.
Down below, about twenty yards from the foot of the house, was the wall
and the big gateway, and behind it were the Englishman’s men, stooping
down to load and then popping up and firing. They seemed to be standing
on some kind of platform or ledge, and were not taking the trouble to
aim.
Out beyond there were flames pouring up from half a dozen huts, and we
could hardly hear their noise because of the fearful shouts and yells
from a dense crowd of people in between us and them.
They must have seen our faces in the light of the fires, for they yelled
more loudly than ever, and we could see them bending down and then
throwing stones at us. Stones began clattering against the outside wall
all round us, and one came flying into the room, and I heard Sally sob
with fright. We drew in our heads and closed the shutter, but before I
drew in mine I am certain that I saw one of the Chinamen inside the wall
point his rifle at us and fire. The room was almost dark now, except
for one streak of light which came through a gap at one edge of the
shutter, and just made light enough for us to see each other. Mr. Hobbs
was lying full length on the floor near a wall, and Sally was lying down
too, with her head on his chest, and moaning. I did wish she would
leave off, because it made us all so much more frightened.
Directly we had closed the shutter, stones began clattering against
it—and, I’m certain, some bullets too—and we heard a rush, and the mob
charged the big gateway.
We could still hear the ships firing. "My God, I wish they’d come!" I
heard Miller mutter; and that was what I had been praying all the time.
The noise at the back of the garden seemed to have stopped; but the
firing from the wall was easing down too, and the Scotchman groaned out,
"They’re going to leave us;" and Sally, who seemed almost "off her
head", kept on moaning, "Why doesn’t Captain Evans come?"
I felt that I should go mad in a minute if I didn’t do something.
Miller must have thought the same. "It’s no use sitting ’ere to get
killed, sir. Can’t we do something? Can’t we fire at them? We’ve got
three rifles." But the Scotchman wouldn’t let us open the shutter.
"Keep still, mon; they haven’t all left us yet," and we could still hear
a few rifles firing from inside the wall.
Just for something to do, I began pulling on my boots—they were still
tied round my neck with the laces—and it was awfully hard work with only
one hand, and they were all sodden and stiff; but Miller helped me. We
had just finished, when suddenly there was a rush of feet underneath us
at the back of the house, and a furious battering noise on the shutters.
"They’ve broken in!" the Scotchman groaned, and Sally shrieked and
buried her head in her lap. Miller seized a rifle and jumped across,
pushed her out of the way, opened the shutter at the back, and leant
out. I saw him load it, and he was just going to fire, when there were
cries of "Sally! Sally! Open the door!" and more hammering.
[Illustration: "HE WAS JUST GOING TO FIRE"]
We jumped to our feet. Sally shrieked that it was Captain Evans come to
save her, Miller roared "Who’s there?" and we heard someone sing out,
"Who are you? Is Sally safe?"
I knew the voice; it was Mr. Ching’s, the Lieutenant on board the _Huan
Min_. I forgot all about my arm, and jumped over to where Miller was.
"Get out of the way!" I cried, and yelled down, "Midshipman Ford of the
_Vigilant_. There are six of us up here, and Miss Hobbs is all right."
"Come down and let me in."
"Right you are, sir!" I shouted, and drew in my head.
"Isn’t it Captain Evans?" Sally asked me.
"No. Mr. Ching of the _Huan Min_"
She moaned and began crying again.
We lowered the ladder and scrambled down, pulled the things away from
the door at the back, and opened it, and there was Mr. Ching and twenty
or thirty of his men, all crowding round.
I could only say, "Thank you very much, sir," and should have blubbed if
I’d tried to say any more.
"Hoffman brought us, showed us a path up from the water. He’s gone to
try and keep order. Can she come away at once?"
I don’t know what I was going to say. It didn’t make any difference,
because the noise at the other side of the house suddenly grew fearfully
loud, and we heard the gates give way and swing back with a crash, and
the mob rush through with frightful yells of triumph. Mr. Ching gave an
order, and ran round to the front of the house, and I found myself
following him with Miller behind me.
Some more men joined him at the corner, and then we came out into the
glare and saw the bright gap in the dark wall made by the gates being
open, and a mob sweeping up to the house. They had torches and blazing
tufts of straw on poles. A few of the Chinamen inside the wall were
trying to keep them back, but I could see most of them dropping over the
wall outside.
Mr. Ching’s people fired a volley into the mob, and then another, and
some shots came from the room I’d just left—the Scotchman and Martin
firing, I expect.
The mob didn’t seem to have expected any resistance, and stopped and
left off shouting. I could see many of them throw their hands up and
fall, and there were shrieks and screams, the blazing bits of straw fell
on the ground and were trampled out, and they began to fly back through
the gateway.
I was swept along with Mr. Ching’s men, and found myself in the gateway.
Some of them were swinging back one side of it, and pulling aside bodies
which were in the way.
Someone was trying to crawl away as the big gate swung towards him. It
was Mr. Hoffman. I could see him well, and just managed to pull his
legs clear as it swung to. He didn’t recognize me.
"You hurt, sir?" I asked him.
"Shot through the chest; get me into a corner. Is Sally safe?"
Miller was nowhere to be seen, and I couldn’t make any of the _Huan
Min’s_ bluejackets understand. They were too excited.
"Try and get hold of me; get hold of my coat."
He grabbed at my left side; I gave a yell with the pain of it. "Not
that side; the other, sir," and he got his fingers into the slit of my
other pocket and drew himself on his knees, spitting blood out of his
mouth and coughing.
Supporting himself like that, and with the other hand on the ground, he
managed to crawl back to the house and then rolled on his back.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I’m Ford of the _Vigilant_."
"Thank God you are safe! I’m dying. Bring Sally to me;" and he coughed
again.
"It’s not safe for her here; I’ll try and get you round to the back."
I heard my name called, and ran towards the gate, and there was Mr.
Ching looking for me. "Where is Hoffman? Are you all ready to start?
We can keep them off for a time," he panted.
I pointed to where Mr. Hoffman was lying. "He’s shot through the chest.
He’s dying. He can’t move."
Mr. Ching groaned. "We shall have to stay here till daylight. I can
never find my way back without him."