"Well, I don't know, Mr Herrick. We might perhaps lure them out of
their hiding-places in that way, with a couple of Chinese crews to work
the junks. But no; the wretches would be equally strong, and would
fight like rats. Too many of my poor lads would be cut down. They
would have us at a terrible disadvantage. We must keep to the ship. I
can only fight these wretches with guns."
He was turning away, when a thought struck me, and, forgetting my awe of
the captain, and the fact that a proposal from a midshipman to such a
magnate might be resented as an unheard-of piece of impertinence, I
exclaimed excitedly--
"I beg pardon, sir."
"Yes?"
"I think I know how it could be done."
"Eh? You, Mr Herrick! Pooh! Stop," he said sharply, as, feeling
completely abashed, I was shrinking away, when he laid his hand kindly
on my shoulder. "Let's hear what you mean, my boy. The mouse did help
the lion in the fable, didn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"Not that I consider myself a lion, Mr Herrick," he said
good-humouredly, "and I will not insult you by calling you a mouse; but
these Chinese fiends are too much for me, and I really am caught in the
net. Here, send that man forward, and come into my cabin."
"Ching, go right up to the forecastle," I said.
"No wantee go s'eep," he said angrily. "Makee Ching bad see ship
burned."
"Never mind now; go and wait," I whispered; and he nodded and went off,
while I walked hurriedly back to the captain, who led the way to his
cabin.
Before I had gone many steps I had to pass Smith, who came quickly up to
me.
"Hallo! old chap," he whispered, "what have you been up to now? Wigging
from the skipper? I'll go and tell the Tanner, and we'll get clean
handkerchiefs for a good cry."