"There," said Smith, "I told you so. If we caught a lot, Gnat would
give them a lecture, and tell them they had been very naughty, and that
they mustn't do so any more or he would be very angry with them indeed."
"Punch his head, Gnat."
I made no reply to their flippant remarks, for just then I felt very
solemn and thoughtful. I hope I was not priggish. No, I am sure I was
not; every word I uttered was too sincere, though they chaffed me
afterwards, and I have thought since that they felt more seriously than
they spoke.
"You chaps didn't go on board that barque," I said quietly; "I did."
"Yes; old Dishy's making a regular favourite of you, Gnat," said
Barkins.
But I went on without heeding, my eyes fixed on the burning vessel whose
flames shone brightly in the clear air.
"And when I saw the splintered wood and chopped doorway, and the smears
and marks of blood, it all seemed to come to me just as it must have
been when the poor fellows shut themselves up in the cabin."
"Did they?" said Smith eagerly.
"Yes, that was plain enough," I said; "and they must have fought it out
there till the pirates got the upper hand."
"I bet tuppence the beggars pitched stinkpots down through the cabin
skylight, and half-smothered them," said Barkins excitedly.
"I daresay they did," I replied thoughtfully, "for I did see one of the
lockers all scorched and burned just by the deck. Yes, it all seemed to
come to me, and I felt as if I could see all the fighting, with the
Chinamen hacking and chopping at them with their long swords, the same
as those brutes did at us; and all those poor fellows, who were quietly
going about their business, homeward bound with their cargo, must have
had friends, wives or mothers or children; and it gets horrible when you
think of how they must have been in despair, knowing that those wretches
would have no mercy on them."
"Yes, but how it must have made 'em fight," cried Smith. "I think I
could have done something at a time like that."
"Yes, it would make any fellow fight; even you, Gnat."
"I suppose so," I said, "for it made me feel as if there wasn't any room
in the world for such people."
"There ain't," said Barkins. "Oh, if our chaps could only get a good go
at 'em!"
"And then I felt," I went on, "as if it couldn't all be real, and that
it was impossible that there could be such wretches on the face of the
earth, ready to kill people for the sake of a bit of plunder."
"But it's just precious possible enough," said Smith slowly. "Why, out
here in China they do anything."
"Right," said Barkins; "and I hope the skipper will pay them in their
own coin. My! how she burns."
"Yes," assented Smith, as the barque, after smouldering so long, now
blazed, as if eager to clear away all traces of the horrible tragedy.
"You'll recollect all about that cabin, Gnat, if we do get at the
beggars--won't you?"
"Recollect?" I said, with a shiver; "I shall never be able to forget
it."
Then we relapsed into silence, and stood resting our arms over the
bulwarks, gazing at the distant fire, in which I could picture plainly
all the horrors and suggestions of the wrecked cabin. I even seemed to
see the yellow-faced wretches, all smeared with blood, dragging their
victims to the stern windows. And my imagination then ran riot for a
time, as I fancied I saw them seizing men not half-dead, but making a
feeble struggle for their lives, and begging in agonising tones for
mercy, but only to be struck again, and pitched out into the sea.
I fancy that I must have been growing half hysterical as the scene grew
and grew before me, till I had pictured one poor wretch clinging in his
despair to the edge of the stern window, and shrieking for help. There
was a curious sensation as if a ball was rising in my throat to choke
me, and I was forgetting where I stood, when I was brought back to
myself by the voice of my messmate Smith, who said in a husky whisper--
"Think we shall come across any of the poor fellows floating about?"
"Not likely," replied Barkins. "Too many sharks in these seas."
My throat felt dry at this horrible suggestion, but I knew how true it
was. And then once more there was silence, and, like the rest--officers
and men--we stood there watching the burning wreck hour after hour, not
a soul on board feeling the slightest disposition to go below.
It must have been quite a couple of hours later, when I started in the
darkness, for something touched my arm, and, looking sharply to my
right, I could just make out the figure of Ching close to me, while on
looking in the other direction I found that I was alone, for Barkins and
Smith had gone forward to a group close to the bows.
"You, Ching?" I said, "looking at the mischief your friends have done?"
"Fliends burnee ship? No fliends. Velly bad men. Ching feel allee
shame. Velly bad men evelywhere. Killee, get dollar. No velly bad
men, London?"
"I'm afraid there are," I said sadly.
"Yes; velly bad men, London. Killee get dollar. You choppee off bad
men head?"
"No," I said; "but they kill them if they commit murder."
"Commit murder? You mean killee get dollar?"
"Yes."
"Allee light. Plenty bad men evelywhere. Captain going kill pilate?"
"If we can catch them," I said.
"Yes, velly hard catchee catchee. Captain never catchee in ship.
Pilate allee lun away. 'Flaid of big gun. Get two big junk, put plenty
sailor boy where pilate can't see. Then pilate come along kill and
burnee. Junk steal all along. Jolly sailor jump up and cut allee
pilate head off."
"Send that boy forward!" cried a stern voice, which made me jump again.
"Who's that?"
"Herrick, sir," I said, touching my cap, for the captain came forward
out of the darkness.
"Then you ought to know better, sir. The scoundrel has no business in
this part of the ship. What does he want?"
"I beg pardon, sir; he came up to propose a way of trapping the
pirates."
"Eh, what?" said the captain eagerly. "Bah! absurd. Send him below; I
hate to see the very face of a Chinaman. No; stop! He ought to know
something of their tricks. What does he say?"