"SHOT SILK."
It was the next evening when, after a whole day's rest passed in a deep
sleep quite free from fever--as Stan was made to notice by Wing the
Chinaman, who drew his attention to the calmness of the sleep, the
absence of all fever and restlessness, and, above all, the soft, fine
perspiration which bedewed the patient's skin--Blunt slowly opened his
eyes in the office, now made light and airy by the removal of the
barricades, and lay looking up at the ceiling.
As Wing pointed out the fact to Stan, the movement he made startled the
sufferer, who looked at him sideways and said:
"What's the matter? Where am I?"
Stan bent over him and replied.
"To be sure. Yes; I remember now. Ah, how weak I am! But tell me,
Lynn; how are things going?"
Stan explained the position briefly.
"Good!" said Blunt. "Excellent! Thoroughly thrashed them?"
"For the present; but we all believe that they'll come back."
"No, no, Lynn," replied Blunt faintly; "not for long enough, if they
ever do. Tell me again; how many did they lose?"
"Ought you to talk now?"
"Well, no, I suppose not much; but I'm all right, only very weak. I'm
not going to die, my lad. There! I will not talk much. Go on telling
me. I must hear."
Stan told him, but made no allusion to the bit of treachery; and when he
had ended the manager smiled his approval.
"Just what I expected," he said. "Brave lads, all of them."
Hearing the talking, Stan's lieutenant in the defence came softly in,
but not so quietly as to be unheard by the wounded man, who raised his
hand on the uninjured side.
"Ah, Lawrence!" he said. "I've heard all about it. Bravely done, all
of you. I'm better, you see. All that feverish muddle I felt in the
head is gone."
"That's right, sir. I came in to see how you were."
"Couldn't be going on better."
"But what about sending down to Nang Ti for a native doctor?"
"What for?"
"To attend you, sir."
"Pooh! Absurd! Wing can do anything that a native doctor would
suggest. He knows as much as I do, and I know by my symptoms that I'm
going on all right."
"But we thought that as soon as you came to it might be better to send
for help."
"No need, my man. I must be kept a bit low and quiet, not worried nor
allowed to get up too soon, and I shall soon be as well as ever. Now
tell me quietly, what have you done about our breastworks and the wall?"
"Nothing, sir."
"What! not got the boxes and bales under cover again?"
"We thought it better to leave things as they were in case the enemy
returned."
"Bah! They will not come. But look here; the ammunition must be
getting very low."
"Very, sir," said Lawrence, with a meaning look at Stan.
"To be sure.--Here, Lynn, first thing to-morrow morning write a despatch
to your father, telling him of the attack and asking for a fresh supply
of cartridges. It must be sent off by Wing in the first boat you can
get hold of. At Nang Ti he will soon find a steamer bound for Hai-Hai--
You, Lawrence, start the first thing in the morning all hands at work to
restore everything that is not damaged."
"Yes, sir."
"That will do. I must not talk any more. Good-night."
To Stan's surprise, the patient had no sooner closed his eyes than he
seemed to be asleep; and it was late morning, just as Stan's long letter
was finished, and Wing, who declared himself well enough, came in to
announce that he had picked up a boat from among those which had come
stealing back, when Blunt opened his eyes again.
Busy days followed, with confidence returning as no further news was
heard of the pirates, while the way in which the people of the nearest
villages came back to their homes and work in the fields seemed to act
as an endorsement of the idea that the terrible raid was over, and the
likelihood of there being another attack seemed to be past.
The men worked hard; the traces of the fiery trial disappeared from the
great storehouse, save that the charring and the pitch-stains refused to
be scraped out; barricades disappeared, and partitions and stacks of
chests and bales rose again in their old places; the carpenters cut out
damaged wood, and with the exception of new-looking patches the place
assumed its former aspect, while the business in the office and
counting-house went on again as if the whole ugly blood-shedding had
been only a feverish dream.
Wing had not yet returned, but one afternoon Stan was busy in the office
talking to Blunt about a boatload of tea which had come down from the
interior--for the manager had progressed so rapidly that he was well on
the high-road to complete recovery. Naturally he was a good deal pulled
down, hollow of cheek and sunken of eye, and compelled to assist his
steps by means of a stout bamboo cane, while the arm nearest to the
injury was supported by a silken scarf used as a sling. But he was
bright and cheerful, and busy in the office some hours every day,
working, as he called it, vicariously, Stan being his deputy, who
superintended a great deal of the correspondence that went on.
"No news yet of Wing," he was saying. "Seems a very long time, Lynn."
"Oh no; it's a long way, and there might be some delay over getting the
supplies you want."
"S'pose so," said Blunt abruptly. "Good job our piratical friends don't
know of it or they'd come down at once. Hullo! What's that?"
Lawrence rose and went to the window to see what was the meaning of a
loud gabble of voices coming from the wharf.
"It's a boat coming in," he said.
"Oh, Wing at last!" said Blunt. "Well, I'm very glad. A good supply of
ammunition is just the tonic that will pull me round."
"It may be, sir, but I hardly think so," replied Lawrence. "It's the
_Chee-ho_ come back."
"With that miserable sneak Mao. Cowardly hound to slip off as he did.
Here, I'll have a talk with him when he comes ashore. No more boatloads
for him, he'll find.--What say, Lynn? I'm weak yet--not get in a
passion?"
"It wouldn't be wise," whispered Stan.
"Well, perhaps not; but the thought of that fat, smooth,
comfortable-looking poodle coming in here smiling and rubbing his hands
puts me in a perspiration."
"Perhaps he'll be ashamed to show himself."
"What!" cried Blunt. "Mao ashamed? You don't know him. You see if he
doesn't come cringing in, just as if nothing had happened, to ask if
there is a load ready for him to take down to the port.--What do you
say, Lawrence?"
"The same as you do, sir."
Half-an-hour later the matter discussed was put to the proof, for there
was the soft, shuffling sound of a Chinaman's boots in the passage, and
the _tindal_ of the boat in which Stan had arrived with Wing gave a
gentle tap, pushed the door, and entered, smiling profusely and bowing
to Blunt and Stan, before taking up his post half-way to the desks, hat
in hand, waiting to be addressed.
Blunt heard him, but paid no heed for a minute or so; then looking up
sternly, he saluted the man with a deep-toned--
"Well, sir, what do you want?"
"Come see when load leady fo' _Chee-ho_ boat."
"How dare you come and ask after deserting us as you did? Why, we might
have been all massacred, you cowardly scoundrel, for all you'd have done
to save us. What have you got to say for yourself?"
"Me t'ink _Chee-ho_ b'long me. If stop, pilate man flow 'tink-pot. Set
fi' and cuttee Mao float," said the man deprecatingly.
"And so you set sail and got out of the way?"
"Yes. Velly fast. _Chee-ho_ nicee big boat b'long me. Takee ca'e.
Hold plenty tea-box, plenty silk. Bluntee want--"
"Look here, you scoundrel," cried the manager angrily; "I am Mr Blunt,
your employer, and if you call me Bluntee again I'll throw this ruler at
you."
As he spoke the manager caught his big ruler from the desk and made so
fierce an "offer" with it that the Chinese boat-captain dropped upon his
knees and bowed his head almost to the floor. "Get up!" shouted the
manager. "No flow t'ick stick?" whined the man. "I will if you don't
get up this moment. Stand up like a man."
"Oh deah!" said the shivering Chinaman, getting up slowly and painfully,
and displaying a couple of great tears running down his fat cheeks.
"Misteh Blunt wantee Mao stop havee float cut?"
"No, but to stay and help us, sir. How did you know but what we might
want to escape in your boat down to Nang Ti?"
"Mao quite suah not do so. Know Misteh Blunt big man. Velly angly.
Can'tee flighten um and makee lun away. Mao know he stop fightee."
"And so you sailed away and left us in the lurch."
"Yes. Pilate man velly dleadful. Killee evelybody and cut Mao head
off. Cut all men and flow um ove'boa'd."
"And so you ran away--eh?"
"Yes. Velly much aflaid. Mao tly save boatee fo' Misteh Blunt. Boat
b'long Mao."
"Ah, well! you saved it."
"Yes. Tookee long way. Sail up cleek. Hide till Mao quitee suah
pilate junk allee gone 'way. Then come again. You got plenty bale
plenty tea-box fo' Mao take down livah--eh?"
"Be off!" said Blunt shortly. "I'll think about it."
"Yes, Misteh Blunt t'ink gleat deal. See Mao 'blige lun away.
_Chee-ho_ boat b'long Mao. No do let pilate buln, sink. B'long Mao--
b'long Misteh Blunt--b'long evelybody."
"Be off!" shouted Blunt; and the man went away, nodding and smiling, to
join his crew upon the wharf.
"Shall you employ him any more?" said Stan as the door closed and the
captain's blue frock was seen to balloon out in the pleasant breeze as
he marched complacently along the river-front.
"Oh yes," replied Blunt. "He's a very honest fellow, and can't help
being a thorough coward. Suppose I dismiss him, I shall have to engage
another, who would possibly turn out dishonest and a greater humbug than
this one."
"But he seems to be utterly without courage."
"Pooh! We all are at first. I was horribly frightened when we were
attacked."
"It didn't seem like it," said Stan, smiling.
"Oh no, of course not. I wasn't going to let any one see what a stew I
was in. That's the result of education and one's love of keeping up
appearances. You owned to being frightened too--at first."
"I was," said Stan frankly. "Enough to make one."
"Of course it was. But, you see, we're Britons, and when a job of this
sort comes to a head, why, we say, `Well, it's no use to make any bones
about it; the thing has to be done;' and we do it as well as we can.
And, as you see, the job was done."
"Only half-done," said Stan, with a sigh.
"What! I think it was splendidly well done. What do you mean by your
`half-done'?"
"Why, you said the enemy would come back again."
"Ye-es; so I did; but I don't feel so sure now."
"How is that?" asked Stan, impressed by his companion's manner.
"Well, you see, one often judges how the weather is going to be by the
behaviour of the animals about one. Birds, cattle, reptiles, insects,
fish, if one studies them, give one hints of what sort of a season one
is going to have. Chinese, too, are not slow in that way. You see Mao
has come back."
"Yes; but what has that to do with it?"
"A good deal. He has a sort of instinctive as well as experienced
knowledge that the trouble is at an end, or else he wouldn't have shown
his nose here now. I shouldn't wonder if he had a hint that the enemy
were coming, some time before they arrived."
"But if he had he would have warned you."
"So he did, in a quiet sort of way, but I didn't believe him. Yes, I
begin to think that you gave the enemy such an awful thrashing--"
"I?" cried Stan. "Why, I only carried out your orders."
"And well, too, my lad; and as I was about to say when you interrupted
me so rudely, you gave them such an awful thrashing that in the future
they will look out for some nut to crack that has a thinner shell and
leave us most carefully alone. Mao has come back, and that means the
storm is well over."
"But you'll be well prepared in case they do come again?"
"Trust me, my lad. You and I will begin to play chess of an evening in
future."
"Have you a set of chess-men?"
"No; nor do I want them. We'll make the _hong_ our chess-board, and
play the game of defiance with our brains."
"I have some idea of what you mean," said Stan, laughing, "but it is not
quite clear."
"I mean, we'll set to and scheme how to meet our friends if they do come
again. You see, one is sure to have warning. They can't come down the
river without; and I can't help thinking that you and I ought to be able
to contrive some kind of floating dodge which we could let down amongst
the junks, and which would blow them up or set fire to them."
"Yes; I see," cried Stan eagerly. "Or why not try something with a big
kite that we could drop down to explode on their decks. But of course I
don't know how."
"There you are!" cried Blunt, clapping him on the back. "Bravo! The
very thing!"
"Oh no," said Stan quickly. "That was just the ghost of an idea."
"True; but we'll set to and make it something solid. The people here
have wonderful kites, and I'll be bound to say that you and I could
contrive something chemical that we could send up and manage with a
string till it was just over them, and then drop it where it would
explode, so that it would scare them off even if it did not set fire to
their junks. But wait a bit. We'll see."
"Yes; if you take it like that, I think we might contrive something. I
say, why not some kind of torpedo that we could sink just off the wharf,
connect it here with a wire, and have an electric battery to fire the
charge? Why, if I had had such a thing here when the junks were all
together off the place, I could have--"
"Blown them to smithereens, my lad," cried Blunt. "Bravo! And we'll
have a little gun, too, that we can work easily--one that will send
explosive shells. There! that will do. I'm going to fill up an order
for one battery of cells, thirteen as twelve torpedoes, so many yards of
insulated wire, and--Here, I say, we ought out of common humanity to
send word up the river to all pirates to make their wills before they
come for their next attack."
"Or put up a big hoarding with a notice written in Chinese for all who
come up and down the river to read."
"What about?"
"New patent steel traps and spring-guns are set in these grounds," said
Stan, laughing.
"All right, my lad. Joke away; but I'm on my mettle, and if we can't
contrive something better than walls and barricades of tea-chests and
silk it's very strange."
"Well, we ought to, certainly."
"And we will. Just think of what a lot of good stuff has been made
absolutely worthless. There is, I should say, a couple or three hundred
pounds' worth of tea and silk--more perhaps--perfectly unsaleable."
"Couldn't you send it to market under another name?" said Stan,
laughing.
"Name? What name?" growled Blunt contemptuously. "You can't sell tea
that has been exposed to fire. What would you call it--coffee?"
"No; gunpowder tea," cried Stan merrily.
"One to you," said Blunt, with a grim laugh. "But what about your
silk?"
"Oh, that's easy!" said Stan. "Call that shot silk."
"Good gracious!" cried Blunt, with mock solemnity. "The poor fellow is
going wrong. Overstrain, I suppose, from the excitement of the fight.
There! try and be calm. It's a bad sign when a fellow begins to make
feeble jokes. Don't try again, Lynn. Keep on with some nice, light,
playful idea or two, such as the flying kites and contriving busters for
the Chinese junks. Those would be gentle, innocent pursuits. But
seriously, though, the more I think of what you say the more I am taken
by it. You see, it would be quite new and startling for the enemy.
Those junks are as fragile as can be, and a very little would send them
to the bottom. Here, I say, I think I have it. Isn't there a chemical
that we could squirt over them from an engine of some kind?"
"What for?"
"To burn them. I once saw a chemical experiment in which such stuff was
thrown on to some light wood, and it burst into flame at once. That's
the stuff we want. If we can set one junk on fire, it will set more in
the same condition. What do you say to that?"
"Splendid, if it could be done."
"Could be done? It must be done, and we're going to do it. Oh, there
are more ways of killing a cat than hanging it. Let the pigtails come.
They shall find that I'm not going to have any more of our chests and
bales spoiled. I think--"
"So do I," said Stan firmly--"that you've been talking twice as much as
you ought to do; so now have a rest."
"Well, I am a bit husky," said Blunt, "but not like the same man to-day.
Humph! Perhaps you are right."