"FIERY MISSILES."
The desperate fight had been going on for quite an hour from the time of
the landing of the attacking party, and the men who had gained an
entrance into the first defence had grown exhausted by the vain efforts
they had made to break a way through, and contented themselves, such as
could, with getting back outside to the shelter of the walls and,
crouched there, watching their companions' fire, while turning a deaf
ear, and then sullen looks, towards their leaders on the junks, who kept
on furiously yelling to them to go on.
They did not seem inclined to risk it, but scowled at those who ordered
the attack, and waited. After a short consultation among the junk
captains--a consultation carried on by shouts and yells from vessel to
vessel, delivered through hands held trumpet fashion to the lips--it
became evident to Stan and his little garrison that an attack was to be
made upon a larger scale. For the crews of the junks manned the sweeps,
and while those close in strove to lay their craft alongside the wharf
above and below the spot where their three junks were grappled together,
the other two began to creep up inshore as if to land their men where
they could get right round to the back of the great _hong_ and the
outbuildings; while, to add to the peril, one of the men on the far side
of the roof-ridge--a point of vantage from which several successful
shots had been sent into the vessels--shouted the bad news that the
first junk, which had been carried down the river till she had
disappeared round a bend, was coming up again full sail, evidently to
rejoin the others.
"It looks very bad now, Mr Lynn," said Lawrence, the foreman, who had
distinguished himself by the way in which he had maintained his
coolness. "They're going to make a grand attack now in force."
"Yes," replied Stan quietly, "it does look very bad. They're too many
for us."
"But you won't give in?" cried another anxiously. Before Stan could
reply another broke out with: "They don't want to kill us; only to
plunder the hong. Why not take advantage of this lull and quietly get
out on the other side, so as to get right away from the river? I don't
believe that they would pursue us."
"Then you have a great deal more faith in the Chinese character than I
have," said the first speaker, "I believe that as soon as they saw our
confession of weakness--"
"We should make no confession of weakness," retorted another. "We
should only retire."
"They would think we were beaten, and come after us for certain," said
another bitterly.
"Yes," said the first speaker sharply, "and follow us till we were
surrounded and overwhelmed out yonder in the marsh, or paddy-fields."
"But why should they take all that trouble for nothing?"
"For nothing? They wouldn't call it for nothing when they would get all
our rifles and ammunition, in addition to having the profound
satisfaction of spearing and hacking to pieces a party, of what they
call foreign devils. What do you say, Mr Lynn?"
"Only this," said Stan quietly, "that if we are to be killed it would be
better to fall fighting to the last in our own defence."
"Then you will fight?" cried Lawrence eagerly.
"Of course," was the reply. "I am obeying Mr Blunt's instructions to
defend the place to the last."
"But isn't this the last, sir?" said the clerk who had proposed the
retreat.
"Oh no. We are as safe or safer than ever, and though there are going
to be a great many more to make the attack, it does not follow that any
of them will get in."
"Hear, hear!" shouted Lawrence.
"And besides," continued Stan, "when it does come to their beginning to
break in, we have all our big, strong coolies to join us and help with
their knives and bars. I feel sure that they will fight bravely."
"So do I, Mr Lynn," said Lawrence warmly.
"But they are brother natives," said the objector.
"That's the very reason why they will fight all the fiercer for us.
They hate pirates like poison, and will enjoy sending them out of the
world far more than we shall. It is only fair, though, Mr Lynn, that
you should give any one who likes to make the attempt to escape free
leave to go."
"Yes," said Stan; "it is not fair to force any one to fight who wishes
to escape."
To Stan's surprise, there was a dead silence; and after waiting a few
moments listening to the storm of voices without, Stan continued:
"Then we're all going to stand by one another?"
"Yes, to a man, sir," said the objector. "I dare say I'm wrong in my
ideas, and I give way."
There was a cheer at this. Every man went back to his shelter and
examined his rifle, afterwards taking out and examining his revolver
before thrusting it back in its holster, while Stan went from man to man
to inspect his supply of cartridges, and ended by having a fresh box up
and himself seeing to the refilling of every bandolier.
While this was in progress those who kept a strict watch found that no
further attack was being made. The matchlock firing had ceased, and the
men beneath the outer defence lay crouched close as if waiting for
further orders.
But the preparations on board the junks were being made with a
determination that augured a serious encounter at the next attack. Men
were collecting, armed with spears and the great heavy curved Chinese
swords which widened out in the blade from about an inch and a half at
the handle to more than double that width near the point; while
something fresh suddenly took Stan's attention, and he pointed it out to
those with him in the great store.
"Yes, sir," said his chief backer in the late debate; "that's the
ugliest thing we've seen yet."
"Why, it looks like the preparation for a procession. Every hatch on
the different junks has seven or eight great Chinese lanterns; but
they're not yet lit, so far as I can tell in this bright sunshine."
"They mean it for a procession," said Lawrence, "and they think it is
for our funeral."
"What!" cried Stan. "But look; what's that smoke?"
"They're lighting stink-pots to throw, sir. Those and the lanterns are
to burn us out."
"Think so?"
"I feel sure," was the reply.
"But why didn't they use the stink-pots before?"
"Because they thought they could drive us out without. They didn't want
to set fire to the place for fear of damaging the loot they mean to
take. They can find a market fast enough for tea and silk; but they're
getting savage now, and mean to make an end of us, even if they have to
burn the place down."
"Well," said Stan coolly, "we must not let them. I'll go down now and
fetch up the warehousemen and coolies to do nothing else but pick up and
hurl back the fire-pots, for of course they will try and fling them in
at these open windows."
"You couldn't do a better thing, sir."
"No," said Stan thoughtfully. Then raising his voice, he cried: "If any
one here can suggest anything more to be done, pray speak out."
"Nothing more could be done, sir," said a clerk. "Your arrangements are
excellent."
"Mr Blunt's are, you mean," said Stan, smiling. "Very well, then; I
want to stay up here and watch. You, Mr Lawrence, go down and bring up
the coolies, and tell them what they are wanted to do; but you had
better leave half below to be ready to help with the water-buckets."
The messenger went down, and returned with the sturdy body of Chinese
labourers, who were placed at intervals from end to end of the great
open space, well back in shelter; and as soon as this disposition of the
defensive force had been carried out, and the young chief had satisfied
himself that the men thoroughly grasped the duties they had to perform,
Stan gave orders for all who handled rifles to be in readiness to take
good aim and mark out for punishment every prominent leader amongst the
enemy, so as to try and bring him down, and thus throw confusion amongst
the men who were being led to the next attack.
Then began a weary wait, evidently caused by the leaders of the
expedition holding their men in hand until the first junk had beaten up
against the wind till she was some distance beyond the _hong_, when the
watchers saw the sails suddenly begin to glide down and the great junk
slacken and stop in its upward course; while directly after, with the
sweeps on either side thrust out, she began, after hanging upon the
current for a few moments, to drop down again, the huge oars being plied
vigorously, so as to run her ashore just below the edge of the wharf.
"Now," cried Stan suddenly, "four of you, fire at the steersmen."
Three shots rang out simultaneously, with the result that the two
steersmen went down. But two more sprang to their places, seized the
great rudder oar, and the rowers toiling hard, the progress of the junk
was apparently not checked, and she came steadily on.
Two more shots rang out, mere cracks in the vast space, but the junk
still kept on, till her bows touched the ground and her stern swung
round parallel with the wharf, while her crew uttered a fierce yell and
crowded to the side; but they were some fifteen feet away from the
wharf-edge.
"Hah!" said Stan to himself. "They mean business now;" for once more
there was silence for a few moments before the old tactics were carried
out, a signal was given, and full warning afforded to the defenders that
the enemy was coming on. For on each junk men rushed forward and aft to
begin belabouring the great hanging gongs with all their might, and this
formed the accompaniment to a terrific chorus of yells.
"I should have liked to go down and see poor Mr Blunt once more," said
Stan to himself; "but I dare not go now."
Then he started, for his words suddenly assumed a strange significance.
It seemed to him as if his seeing Blunt once more meant that it would be
for the last time, and something like a shudder ran through him.
He made an effort, however, and it was gone, leaving him firm and ready
to an extent that startled him, for he could not believe that in the
face of such terrible danger it would last.
There was no more thinking then. The enemy, keeping up the horrible din
which was evidently intended to terrify the defenders of the _hong_ into
submission, came pouring now from the various junks, some over the sides
to leap down from bulwark to wharf, some through the regular gangway,
and those from the freshly returned junk making no scruple about
dropping from the rail at the nearest point down into the river, to wade
or swim ashore. The manoeuvre resulted in several unfortunates being
crowded down, to rise after an interval, and in several instances to be
swept away by the sharp current now running between the side of the junk
and the wharf, where, as fast as the assailants gathered, they rushed
yelling to the tea-chest barrier and began to climb.
All was wild excitement on the part of the assailants, who, as they
pushed one another up, to be pulled up in turn by those at the top, kept
up a continuous chorus of savage abuse and threats of the way that they
would treat their victims as soon as they got them down; but the furious
outburst seemed to have not the slightest effect upon the defenders,
who, crouching well below their barricades, remained perfectly calm and
firm. They knew their cut-out task, and contented themselves with the
delivery of a well-directed shot now and again. There would be a
well-concealed loophole, with nothing visible to the attacking pirates,
giving them perfect confidence that the defenders were hiding away from
them, and then all at once there followed a sharp, pale spurt of flame,
a little puff of smoke, and some leading man of the attacking party
would go down from the top of the wall, where he had been urging his
followers on, while as he fell it was as often as not to lie perfectly
motionless, unnoticed by his people; though upon some occasions, after
staggering and falling, he would struggle to his hands and knees and
crawl out of the hurrying crowd, to try and creep back to one or other
of the junks.
But as fast as one man went down several came on in his place, and in a
very short space of time the whole of the narrow alley between wall and
store was full of hurrying fighting-men, carrying on the former tactics
of battering with their weapons at door and window, some of the storming
party holding their ground and keeping on thrusting their spears in
savagely wherever there was a loophole to which they could gain access.
"Keep cool," shouted Stan, though for his own part he seemed on fire.
"They'll get tired of hammering at the place in time."
"Hadn't we better try and shoot more of them, sir?" said one of the
clerks.
"No; you must only shoot their leaders. If we went on firing at the
crowd we should soon have no cartridges left.--What does that shouting
mean?"
He raised himself a little to try and see the reason for a fresh burst
of shouting below the window where he was watching.
The answer came at once, after a peculiar odour, and in the shape of a
blazing earthenware pot of inflammable material which was thrown from
the top of the tea-chest wall with such accuracy that it came flaring
and fuming right in through the narrow opening, to fall heavily beyond
Stan.
One such blazing missile, it was plain to all, would be sufficient to
commence the destruction of the place, and in his excitement the young
leader forgot his status of chief and director, for he made a dash
towards the blazing pot, to stoop, seize it, and hurl it out. But just
as he was holding his breath to avoid the smoke and flame, he was sent
backward by a sharp concussion, sitting down involuntarily, and then
trying to recover himself; but before he could get upon his knees he saw
the burning pot travelling back through the window-opening with so good
an aim that it fell on the far side of the wall, just where the enemy
were thickest.
The man who had thrown it back after upsetting his leader turned upon
Stan with hands blackened with the horrible resinous compound, and a
deprecating look on his countenance as he murmured something in his
native language, before ending up with his version of the English word
"sorry."
"All right," shouted Stan, smiling, as he clapped the coolie on the
shoulder. "Bravo! Capital! Go on."
The coolie's face lit up with satisfaction, and he turned sharply to
field another blazing pot and return it as sharply as a clever
wicket-keeper would a ball to the stumps which it had passed, and with
such splendid effect that it struck and broke on one of the enemy, who
was standing on the wall in the act of hurling another of the hideous
missiles.
The effect was startling. In an instant the pirate's blue cotton frock
was covered with the blazing resin, and uttering frightful yells, he
leapt down into the crowd of his comrades in the shelter of the wall
beneath, forcing several to share in his misfortune as they were
lighting up more of the horrible missiles to hand up to him for
throwing.
There was a burst of flame through a cloud of smoke, out of which Stan--
fascinated into looking out--saw something alive flaring as it rushed
here and there, making for a party of its fellows dashing up with more
of the pots.
It was all done in a few seconds, and had any of the assailants been
ready and noticed the lad watching, he would have been shot down. But
every eye was directed at the blazing figure, and, to his horror, Stan
saw the end of the tragedy. For the instinct of self-preservation had
made them doubly callous to their comrade's sufferings. The man rushed
on as if seeking help or in a blind effort to reach the river and plunge
in; but he did not reach it of his own volition, being received upon the
lowered spears of three or four of his comrades, and then he was thrust,
shrieking horribly, over the edge of the wharf, a sullen puff of smoke
from the surface of the water telling that the tragedy was at an end.
A frightful sensation of sickness made Stan's head swim as he dropped
back to the floor just in time to escape being struck by another of the
fiery missiles; but the faintness was driven off by excitement, and it
was with perfectly clear brain that the lad saw the burning Asiatic
grenade hurled back amongst the yelling assailants. This proved to be
with an effect that checked further effort for the moment and sent two
of the pirates running to the edge of the wharf, to plunge in and climb
out again dripping, but with no worse injury than a few smarting burns.
Stan was awake to the danger that was rapidly increasing, for after
seeing that the smoking patches of pitchy resin on the floor were
innocuous, he ran on towards where the far end of the great room was
full of smoke, dreading greater mischief there; but, to his great
relief, he found that, though quite half-a-dozen stink-pots had been
hurled in through the windows, the coolies there had dashed them back at
once. And here, too, he found that the enemy had suffered so painfully
from their own weapons that the throwing had ceased.
Any doubt that might have lingered in the brains of the British
defenders respecting the amount of confidence that might be placed in
the Chinese labourers was now completely driven away; for though the men
had been burned about the hands by the missiles they had returned, they
made very light of the pain, laughing and congratulating one another
upon the retaliation they had been able to inflict, for Stan soon
gathered that here no less than three of the enemy had been seen to rush
shrieking to the edge of the wharf and plunge in.
There was a brief cessation now from the attack, and the defenders,
whose vision was a good deal obscured by the smoke that hung in the
place, made out that the throwers were hanging back from where several
stink-pots were burning away in the shelter of the wall, some of the men
protesting loudly as one of their leaders furiously urged them on, and
ended by trying to set his followers an example by stepping forward,
seizing one of the vessels, coming back into sight again with the pot
flaming as he held it by its loose handle, and then making a rush to a
breach where a portion of the tea-chest wall had been torn down.
The act was one of barbaric bravery, and Stan saw him reach the top,
swinging the pot to and fro and making the flames roar as they rushed
away from his hands. Then as his arm was reached out backwards to its
fullest extent, and he was about to launch the horrible missile at the
opening in front, there was the sharp crack of a rifle, and he fell
forward, pitching headlong to the ground beneath the window, while the
blazing pot struck the stonework close to the foundation of the
building, broke up, and went on blazing and sending up a dense cloud of
pitchy smoke.
"Dead?" said the man who had fired, for Stan had reached forward to look
out, but drew back again coughing.
"It's impossible to see," he cried. "The smoke is blinding."
"And it will be setting something on fire," said another voice out of
the smoke.
"Ah! that's right," cried Stan, for the big coolie who had taken his
place near them pressed forward with a bucket of water, which he set
down while he thrust out his head to see exactly where the danger lay,
before picking up the bucket again, reaching out, and dribbling the
water down a little at a time, producing a cloud of steam to mingle with
the black smoke, and putting an end to all danger of a fire starting at
the lower barricaded windows.
As the cloud of steam and smoke passed off, one of the clerks risked
thrusting out his head from the next window, but withdrew it sharply,
for it resulted in a hasty discharge of _jingals_ from the deck of the
nearest junk.
"Hurt?" cried Stan, rushing to where the clerk had staggered back.
"Yes, sir, horribly," was the reply. "Something--a piece of iron--or--
a--a bullet--caught me--here--and--"
The words came at short intervals, and sounded confused. For the
speaker was feeling about his head and neck, and drawing in his breath
with pain.
"One moment," cried Stan, reaching out a hand to take something from
where it had lodged just within the poor fellow's collar.
"Yes, that must have been it," he said wonderingly. "Bit of stone. Hit
me on the side of the head. But that couldn't have come out of one of
their matchlocks."
"No," said Stan; "it must have been chipped off the side of the window."
"And there's only a lump coming here. Doesn't bleed, does it, sir?"
"No," replied Stan. "You had a lucky escape."
"What a close shave! Never mind; a miss is as good as a mile," added
the young fellow cheerily. "I saw the captain, though, or whatever he
is, lying down at the foot of the warehouse quite dead."
"Are you sure?" asked Stan, with his face contracted.
"Oh yes--quite. He wouldn't be lying doubled up as he is if he were
only wounded. I say, Mr Lynn, that wasn't a bad shot."
"No; excellent, and just in the nick of time. Who fired it?"
"Well," said the young man, hesitating and speaking as if he were not so
proud of the effort after further consideration, "I fired straight at
him, as I thought, just as he was in the act of flinging that blazing
pot; but I can't say I am sure that I hit him."
"But you are sure that he is dead?" replied Stan quietly. "Pray be
cautious, though. Don't run such a risk by looking out again."
"You may take my word for it I won't, sir," said the young clerk,
patting the side of his head softly as he spoke. "One taste like this
will act as a reminder for some time.--Hullo! Look out. They've begun
again."
There was proof of a renewal of the attempt to destroy the place by fire
in the presence of another of the pirates' hand-shells, for one came
sailing in through the farthest window, to break up with a crash about
the middle of the flooring; and the defenders had a fine exemplification
of the dangers to which they were exposed in seeing the half-liquid
contents of the pot begin to flow, blazing steadily, in all directions.
One of the coolies rushed up at once to spread the contents of a bucket
of water all over the burning patch, while another, regardless of the
pain, ran here and there catching up the flame-licked fragments of the
pot from where they had fallen, and kept on hurling them like little
smoke-tailed comets back through the window-opening.
"More water," shouted Stan, as the burning patch began to add another
odour to its own, a fine, pungent smoke beginning to mingle with the
dense black fume, indicating that the floor boards were beginning to
catch.
"No, no, sir; this will be best," said one of the warehousemen, and he
dragged one of the silk-bales away from the nearest window.
"But that will catch fire," said Stan.
"Too closely pressed together, sir," was the reply.--"Here, you two,
draw that backwards and forwards over the fire to smother it out."
The two coolies caught at the suggestion, and seizing the bale together,
they began to push it here and there over the burning place, with the
effect of rapidly smothering out the flaming pitch, dense black smoke
alone rising wherever the bale was passed; but unfortunately a heated
gas kept on ascending from the blackened boards, and that caught fire
again with a little explosion as the bale glided away.
Perseverance won, however, but none too soon, for all danger had hardly
been swept away before another of the pots came hissing and fuming in,
but without breaking; and this was jerked out, sending the attacking
party flying from the place where it was expected to fall, the painful
examples they had seen making the assailants pretty careful now.
This one was followed by several more, and then, to the great relief of
the defenders, there was a cessation, and the assailants could be seen
gathering together as if to listen to a mandarin-like officer who was
risking his life while talking vehemently to his followers, who had now
drawn away from the walls and were collected close to the edge of the
wharf, many glancing at the junks as if disposed to rush on board.
"They're beginning to turn tail now," said Stan to the warehouseman who
had spoken out so firmly. "I think we had better give them a volley and
start them off with a run."
"I'm afraid that it would be just as likely to enrage them all the
more."
"Yes, sir," said Lawrence, Stan's lieutenant; "perhaps we had better
wait; but my fingers are itching to bring down that captain, or chief,
or whatever he is."
"He seems to be urging them on," said Stan thoughtfully--very
thoughtfully, for he had an idea in his head, one that would give the
man a chance for his life, which might not be the case if he told his
lieutenant to fire.
For now that the attack had ceased and the pirates' fiery missiles had
left off making his nerves quiver at the prospect of the fire gaining
the mastery and driving them out of their stronghold, the lad felt
anything but bloodthirsty; while he thought that if this leader, who
seemed now to be the most prominent of all, were disabled, his followers
might set the example of taking to flight.
"Look here," said the lad suddenly; "I think I could hit that man from
here."
"Of course you could, sir," cried his lieutenant eagerly. "I saw how
you were firing at first and never seemed to miss. Will you have a
try?"
Stan made no reply, but stood fingering his rifle for a few moments
before, to the great delight of the party of defenders, he sank down on
one knee, resting the barrel of his piece upon a bale, and then waited
and watched the Chinaman who was haranguing his men wildly as he stood
just at the edge of the wharf, now and then raising his arms as he
pointed again and again at the great store.
As he finished there was a tremendous shout, and every man of the crowd
of listeners began to wave his spear or sword.
Just then the crowd opened out as if to form in two parties for a rush
at the warehouse, leaving their leader standing out quite clear, his
tall, commanding figure looking huge in the sunshine.
"Here they come! Look out!" arose from within, and the whole body were
in motion, when--
_Crack_!
The sharp report of Stan's rifle was heard, followed by the floating up
of a puff of grey smoke, and the sound seemed to act like magic, for the
attacking party stood fast, staring in amazement at their chief, whose
legs suddenly doubled up beneath him, and he fell back into the arms of
two men who rushed forward to his help.
"Good shot!" cried several of the defenders.
"A dead man," said Stan's lieutenant.
"I was afraid I could not do it," said Stan, smiling; "but he's not a
dead man, for I only fired at his legs. Look! they're carrying him on
board the junk."
It was as the lad said: several of the men from the crowd went back to
help, while the rest stood fast watching and waiting as if, losing their
heads, they had suddenly been struck with a feeling of indecision. All
the wild, savage desire for destruction had been discharged like so much
electricity at the touch of a rod, and a feeling of hopefulness sprang
up amongst the defenders as they could see that the whole of the
attacking party were now gathered into groups talking eagerly, so that
there was a low, buzzing hum instead of the chorus of savage yells and
threats.
"Where's Wing?" said Stan suddenly, as a thought struck him respecting
taking advantage of the lull. "I know: he is with Mr Blunt. One of
you go and tell him to send the servants with anything he can get
together in the way of food. Another of you bring a bucket of
drinking-water up here."
The orders were carried out, and with watchful eyes and rifles ready to
hand, the whole party partook of the rough refreshments passed round,
the water proving, in their excited state, the principal object to which
they directed their attention.
Wing limped up to Stan as soon as he had performed his task, to announce
that Mr Blunt had gone "fas' 'sleep. Velly weak; can'tee sit up.
Dlinkee big lot wateh."
Stan longed to go and see his chief, but duty kept him there watching
the actions of the men still crowding the wharf, till some one in
authority began to shout, when his followers crept up together as if for
a fresh attack.
This brought the refreshing to a hasty end, every man hurrying at once
to his post, but only to set up a subdued cheer, for, to Stan's intense
delight, the next order seemed to be one for making the fighting-men
separate into half-a-dozen different parties, as if drilled to certain
movements; but it only proved to be for forming up in the divisions
belonging to each junk, on to which they now began to file, either
direct from the wharf or across the nearest vessels to their own.
"They've had enough of it, sir," said one of the clerks excitedly.
"Hadn't we better give them a cheer and a few parting shots?"
"No," said Stan thoughtfully; "it would only be wasting ammunition. I
can't quite believe in their giving up so easily."
"Easily!" said another to one of his companions. "Not much of that.
Look at the dead and wounded."
There was no need to draw attention to the poor wretches lying about,
for their horrible presence was a burden to every one in the warehouse.
Many were lying dead where they had received the fatal bullets, but many
more lay where they had crawled painfully so as to get into shelter,
evidently in the full expectation that if they did not get under cover
they would be made the mark for fresh bullets. And oddly enough, as it
seemed to the defender the cover most affected was the tea-chest wall,
where those who crawled up lay close, with only a leg or arm visible to
the watchers at the windows. They were, of course, so near that their
groans came floating in through the openings, and now that they were
_hors de combat_ Stan became exercised in his mind as to whether he
ought not to take some steps to give the poor wretches water, and he
suggested it to his lieutenant.
"Yes," said the latter, "I've been thinking something of the kind, sir;
but it would be terribly risky work. They are savages to a man, and as
likely as not they would turn upon the hand that came to their help.
You see, they're sure to have their knives and swords with them, and
some of them their rifles. There, for instance," he continued, pointing
through the window where they stood to the stock of a _jingal_ whose
barrel was out of sight, being close under the wall where its owner lay.
"Yes, I'm afraid it would be risky; but if I went with a bucket of water
and a tin dipper they never could be such wretches as to turn upon me."
"My dear sir," was the reply, "if one didn't another would. But you
couldn't possibly do it."
"I could, and I should feel plenty of confidence in their seeing what I
meant."
"Then your confidence would be misplaced, sir," said the man decisively.
"They'd all think you had gone out to poison them, and would turn upon
you at once."
"Oh, impossible!" cried Stan. "They'd be bound to see."
"They'd see, sir," said the man firmly, "but they wouldn't understand.
Men who go about getting their living by slaughtering their
fellow-creatures can't grasp the meaning of an act of self-denial.
Besides, you couldn't go."
"I could: why not?"
"Because you are captain, and can't leave your men."
Stan made an impatient gesture.
"But I could, sir," continued Lawrence quietly; "and if you order me
I'll go."
Stan looked at him sharply.
"I mean it, sir," said the man, with a peculiar smile; "but all the same
I hope you will not send me."
"I can't," said Stan. "How can I send you where I hold back from going
myself?"
At that moment the man stretched out his hand sharply and caught the lad
by the arm.
"What's that for?" said Stan sharply.
"Look in that first junk."
"Yes; I'm looking. They're getting ready to hoist sail and go--No! I
see now. They're afraid to come to close quarters. They're loading
that gun."
"That's right; and the crews of the other junks are at the same game."