For some moments I could not believe it true, and I stood on the thwart
and gazed carefully round, scanning every fragment of the wreck in the
expectation of seeing some trick to deceive us--men lying flat with only
their faces above the surface of the water, and holding on by sweep or
bamboo with one hand. But in a very short time we were all certain that
not a living being was near; of the dead there were several, as we found
on rowing here and there. One, as he was turned over, seemed to be
perfectly uninjured, but the others displayed ghastly wounds in face,
neck, and breast, showing how horribly fierce had been the encounter in
which they had been engaged.
Satisfied at last that our task was at an end, the word was given, and
the men began to row back to the _Teaser_, which still lay so
transformed in appearance, as seen from a distance, that I was thinking
that it was no wonder that the pirates had been deceived, when one of
the men, forgetful of all the horrors through which we had passed, of
his wounded comrade, and the dangerous prisoners under his feet, burst
out into a merry fit of laughter.
"Say, lads," he cried, "we shall have a nice job to-morrow, to wash the
old girl's face."
The rest of the crew laughed in chorus, till the boatswain sternly bade
them give way.
"I doubt it," he said in a low voice to me. "I should say that the
captain will do a little more to make her less ship-shape, ready for the
next lot."
"But you don't think there are any more pirates, do you?"
"More!" he said, looking at me in surprise. "Why, my lad, the coast
swarms with them. We never hear a hundredth part of the attacks they
make. It is not only European vessels they seize, but anything that
comes in their way. It strikes me, Mr Herrick, that we have only just
begun what may turn out a very successful cruise."
Ten minutes later we were nearing the _Teaser_, and I saw the reason why
we could not see either of the other boats. They were swinging to the
davits, and we were therefore the last.
Just then Mr Reardon hailed us.
"How many men hurt?" he shouted between his hands.
"Only one, sir; Barr--coxswain."
"Badly?"
"Oh no, sir," shouted the sufferer. "Bit of a scrat on the back."
"How many prisoners?"
"Four, sir."
Then we were alongside, the boat was run up, and, after our wounded man
had been lifted out, I stepped on board, eager to know the result of the
action on the part of the other boats, and to learn this I went below,
and found Barkins alone.
"Well," I cried, "how many prisoners?"
"Round dozen," he cried.
"Any one hurt?"
"Round dozen."
"I know, twelve prisoners," I said impatiently. "I asked you how many
were hurt."
"And I told you, stupid," he replied, "a round dozen."
"What! a man wounded for every prisoner?"
"That's it; and we shouldn't have taken any, the beggars were game for
fighting to the last, if Mr Brooke hadn't given the word for them to be
knocked on the head first with the thick end of the oars."
"To stun them?"
"Yes; and our lads got so savage after seeing their mates stabbed when
trying to save the brutes' lives, that they hit as hard as they could.
They killed two of 'em, or we should have had fourteen."
"How horrid!"
"Horrid? Why, I enjoyed it," said my messmate. "When I saw poor old
Blacksmith--"
"What!" I cried excitedly, "he isn't hurt?"
"Not hurt? why, one yellow-faced savage, when poor old Smithy held out
his hand to pull him aboard, took hold of his wrist, and then reached up
and stuck his knife right through the poor old chap's arm, and left it
there."
"Poor old Smithy!" I cried huskily, and a choking sensation rose in my
throat. "I must go and see him."
"No, you mustn't. I've just been, and they sent me away."
"But where is he?"
"Doctor's got him, and been mending him up. He has gone to sleep now."
"Was he very bad?"
"Stick a stocking-needle through your arm, and then square it, cube it,
add decimal nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, and
then see how you feel."
"Poor old boy!" I said; "I am sorry."
"Well, so am I," said Barkins sourly; "but I don't keep on howling."
"Did they take the blackguard prisoner?"
"Well, they did, and hauled him aboard, but he was no good, and they
pitched him overboard again."
"Why?" I said wonderingly.
"Why! because he was dead. Bob Saunders, that red-haired chap, was in
the stern-sheets helping to catch the beggars with hitches, and as soon
as he saw the big yellow-faced wretch stick his knife into poor old
Blacksmith, he let drive at the brute with the boat-hook, twisted it in
his frock, and held him under water. He didn't mean to, but he was
savage at what he had seen, for the lads like Smithy, and he held the
beggar under water too long."
I shuddered, and thought of the man being bayoneted from our boat, and
Mr Grey's narrow escape.
"Your fellows behaved better, I s'pose?" said Barkins.
"Not a bit," I said. "We've got a man stabbed just in the same way--"
and I told him of our adventures.
"They're nice ones," said Barkins sourly. "I don't think our chaps will
want to take many prisoners next time. But I say, what a crusher for
them--all four junks, and not a man to go back and tell the tale."
"It's glorious," I cried, forgetting the horrors in our triumph.
"For you," said Barkins sourly.
"Why for me? You and poor old Smith did your part. Don't be so jolly
envious."
"Envious? Come, I like that," he cried. "If you felt as if something
red-hot was being stuck in your leg you'd feel envious too. You're the
luckiest beggar that ever was, and never get hurt or anything."
"No more do you," I said, laughing.
"Oh, don't I? What do you call that, then?" he cried, swinging his legs
round, for he was sitting with one of them under the table.
To my horror and astonishment, I saw that his leg was bandaged, and a
red stain was showing through.
"Why, Tanner, old chap," I cried, catching his hand as my eyes were
blurred; "I didn't know you were hurt."
He looked quite pleased at my weakness, and the emotion I showed.
"Oh, it ain't much," he said, smiling and holding on to my hand very
tightly; "but it pringles and sticks a bit, I mean stingles--no, I
don't! My tongue's getting all in a knot, it tingles and pricks a bit.
I say, Gnat, old chap, you don't think those chaps carry poisoned
knives, do you?"
"What, like the Malays? Oh no."
"I'm glad of that, because it made me feel a bit funky. I thought this
stinging might mean the poison spreading."
"Oh no, don't think that," I cried; "and some one told me a Malay prince
said it was all nonsense about the knives being poisoned."
"He did?"
"Yes; he laughed, and said there was no need to poison them, they were
quite sharp enough to kill a man without."
"That depends on where you put it in," said Barkins grimly.
"Yes," I said; "but what did the doctor say?"
"What about?"
"Your leg."
"He hasn't seen it yet."
"Why, Tanner," I cried, "you haven't had it properly bandaged."
"No; I felt so sick when I got on board, that I sneaked off here to lie
down a bit. Besides, he had poor old Blacksmith to see to, and the
other chaps."
"But didn't he see the bandage when you went there?"
"No; there was no bandage then. It's only a bit of a scratch; I tied it
up myself."
"How was it?"
"I don't hardly know. It was done in a scuffle somehow, when we had got
the first prisoner in hand. He began laying about him with a knife, and
gave it to two of our lads badly, and just caught me in the leg. It was
so little that I didn't like to make a fuss about it. Here, stop, don't
leave a chap. I want to talk to you."
"Back directly," I cried, and I hurried on deck so quickly that I nearly
blundered up against Mr Reardon.
"Manners, midshipman!" he said sharply. "Stop, sir. Where are you
going?"
"Doctor, sir."
"What, are you hurt, my lad?" he cried anxiously.
"No, sir, but poor Barkins is."
"Bless my soul, how unfortunate! Mr Smith down too! Where is he?"
I told him, and he hurried with me to the doctor, who was putting on his
coat, after finishing the last dressing of the injured men.
"Here, doctor," cried Mr Reardon sharply, "I've another man down--boy,
I mean."
"What, young Smith? I've dressed his wound."
"No, no; Barkins has been touched too."
"Tut, tut!" cried the doctor, taking up a roll of bandage. "Are they
bringing him?"
"No, sir; he's sitting by his berth. He tied up the wound himself."
Without another word the doctor started off, and we followed to where
Barkins sat by the table with his back leaning against the side of his
berth, and as soon as he caught sight of us he darted a reproachful look
at me.
"Oh, I say, Gnat," he whispered, "this is too bad." For the doctor had
raised the leg, and, after taking off the handkerchief, roughly tied
round just above the knee, made no scruple about slitting up the lad's
trousers with an ugly-looking knife, having a hooky kind of blade.
"Bad?" said Mr Reardon anxiously.
"Oh dear, no," replied the doctor. "Nice clean cut. Sponge and water,
youngster. Ha, yes," he continued, as he applied the cool, soft sponge
to the bleeding wound, "avoided all the vessels nicely."
"Gnat, old chap," whispered Barkins, as I half supported him, "pinch me,
there's a good fellow."
"What for?" I whispered back.
"Feel sicky and queer. Don't let me faint before him."
"Here, hallo! Barkins, don't turn like a great girl over a scratch--
lower his head down, boy. That's the way. He'll soon come round. Ever
see a wound dressed before?"
"No, sir," I said, repressing a shudder.
"Don't tease the boys, doctor," said Mr Reardon sharply; "get the wound
dressed."
"Well, I am dressing it, arn't I?" said the doctor cheerily, and as if
he enjoyed his task. "I must draw the edges together first."
He had taken what seemed to be a pocket-book from his breast and laid it
open, and as I looked on, feeling sick myself, I saw him really put in
three or four stitches, and then strap up and bandage the wound, just as
Barkins came to and looked about wonderingly.
"I didn't faint, did I?" he said anxiously.
The doctor laughed.
"There, lie down in your berth," he said. "Let me help you."