"HUZZA!"
By the time the _Teaser's_ boats had picked up those of the wretches who
wished to be saved, I had learned from Mr Brooke how, when the boat
struck, he and the others had clung to her and been swept along through
the channel, the fierce current carrying them round the point, and at
last into comparative shelter, where finally they reached the shore
right on the far side of the island.
Thence, after a great deal of climbing, they made their way toward the
channel to come in search of us; but they had to fly for their lives,
finding that the island was in possession of the wrecked crew of the
junk.
They lay in hiding all that day and the next. That evening, in answer
to signals, a fishing-boat picked them up, half-dead with thirst, and by
the use of a few Chinese words and signs, and the showing of money, the
men were prevailed upon to take them up to the river, where, to Mr
Brooke's great delight, he found the _Teaser_ at her old anchorage
uninjured, she having escaped the fury of the typhoon, just passing into
the river before it came down in its full violence.
Captain Thwaites had been anxiously awaiting the return of the boat from
up the river, for, in spite of all inquiries, he had been unable to get
any tidings of her till just as Mr Brooke arrived, to find the owners
of the boat he had taken, on board making application for payment.
They were dismissed with a promise of full restitution, and, while steam
was being got up, a boat was lowered, the floating grating which acted
as a buoy found, the cutter recovered, and then the _Teaser_ sailed for
the river's mouth and came in search of us, Mr Brooke still clinging to
the hope that we had escaped. In the offing the two junks were seen and
recognised, evidently on their way to pick up their shipwrecked friends.
First of all, the strong party of blue jackets and marines was landed,
while the _Teaser_ went round the back of the island, to reach the
channel and take the pirate junks by surprise.
Thorough success, as I have shown, attended the manoeuvre, and soon
after we were on board, where, after a few congratulatory words from our
busy captain, I found Barkins and Smith eager to welcome me back, and
quite ready to forgive me for having what they called "such a glorious
lot of adventures," on account of the share they had had in the sinking
and blowing up of the two pirate junks.
"Yes," said Barkins, after I had told my experiences on the island,
"that was all very well; but oh, my lad, you should have been here when
we attacked those junks! It was glorious--wasn't it, Blacksmith?"
"Lovely! But don't say any more to the poor fellow; it will only make
him mad."
We returned to the river, where our prisoners were landed, and we three
lads had more than one spell on shore before we left that port, notably
being in the city on the night of the Feast of Lanterns; but though we
had several more brushes with pirates, they were all trivial affairs
with small junks, the destruction of the last three being the crowning
point of our achievements. Indeed, this and the sinking of another in
search of which, upon excellent information, Captain Thwaites had
suddenly gone after we had set out on our shooting expedition, and in
which engagement Smith assured me he had greatly distinguished himself,
were such blows to the piratical profession that its pursuers were
stunned for the time.
We remained upon the coast for another six months, and then: were
ordered home, to the great delight of everybody but Ching, who parted
from us all very sadly.
"You think Mr Leardon like to take Ching see Queen Victolia?" he said
to me one day in confidence.
"I'm afraid not," I replied seriously.
"Ching velly solly," he said. "Plenty lich man now! plenty plize-money!
Ching wear silk evely day in Queen Victolia countly. You no tink
captain take Ching?"
"I'm sure he would not," I said.
"Ching velly good interpleter; velly useful man."
"Very; you've been a splendid fellow, Ching!"
He smiled, and a fresh idea struck him.
"You tink Queen Victolia like Ching teach lit' plince and plincess talk
Chinese?"
Again I was obliged to damp his aspirations, and he sighed.
"What shall you do when we are gone, Ching?" I said.
"Open fancee shop again. Sell muchee tea, basket, shell, culios, fo'
Inglis people. Glow tow-chang velly long. Wait till Mr Hellick come
back with jolly sailo' boy, fight pilate."
And with that understanding, which was doomed never to be fulfilled, we
parted.