_The Narrative is continued by Lieutenant Hugo John
Pattison, R.N._
My name is Pattison, and I'm lieutenant in command of destroyer "No. 1",
belonging to Captain Helston's squadron; and trouble enough I had to get
her, and shouldn't have done so after all, but for a jolly little girl
living at Fareham, who knew the Skipper when he was on half-pay.
"No. 1", of course, you remember, was damaged by the explosion out at
Spithead, and had spent weeks in Portsmouth repairing. At last
everything was ship-shape again, and on 16th October we were lying
alongside the basin waiting for the Skipper, who was coming out on our
trials, with steam blowing off in clouds and Elridge, our Engineer,
getting very impatient. Presently down came Captain Helston, looking
pretty well fagged out, and with him surly old Dr. Fox, and his Yankee
secretary. Directly they got aboard, I cast off and threaded my way
down the harbour and out to Spithead. As we were passing the end of
Southsea pier the Captain borrowed my telescope, and saying, "There they
are again", handed it to me.
"Those three Chinese, sir?" I asked him.
"Yes; they followed me down from town, and have been shadowing me for
the last four weeks. You can imagine I am thankful to get afloat once
more."
On our way to the measured mile we had to pass close to the rest of the
squadron anchored at Spithead, and we stopped engines alongside the
_Strong Arm_, whilst a boat came across for orders.
When we started again the Skipper seemed much relieved, and I quickly
knew why, for he came for'ard to the bridge and told me to make for a
rendezvous 250 miles s.w. of the Needles, and that there we should be
joined by the rest of the fleet. "Thank God, Pattison, I'm at sea once
more!"
"Not going back, sir?" I asked, naturally very surprised.
"No, Pattison, no. I'm sorry to inconvenience everybody, but it was
absolutely necessary. Haven't you wished your people good-bye yet?"
"No," I answered, getting rather red in the face, for I was thinking
that I had never even thanked the little girl who had got me my
appointment.
"Nor have I, nor have I," half sighed the Skipper to himself.
The Doctor was apparently in the secret, but Hopkins, the Yankee, seemed
terribly cut up, as he had made arrangements for a week's leave on very
urgent private affairs, and in fact was only waiting for "No. 1" to get
back to Portsmouth to start. How strange it is that Americans never
seem to have any idea of discipline? He took it almost as a personal
insult that he had not been informed previously, and for a second I
thought he would fly at the Captain, he looked so angry. However, he
calmed down quickly enough.
The orders that the Captain had sent aboard the _Strong Arm_ were to
direct Captain Hunter to proceed to the given rendezvous at easy speed,
weighing as soon as possible after sending a boat ashore to telegraph to
the Captain of the _Laird_.
They were exceedingly prompt in obeying this last order, for before five
minutes elapsed, we saw their picket-boat tearing along in the direction
of Portsmouth.
Hopkins is a careless fellow, and nearly brought us to grief. He had
been down below poking about in the engine-room, and, just before we
began to settle down to our trial, Elridge came up to the bridge to
report to the Captain. As he was going away again he jokingly said to
Hopkins: "It's lucky I went round after you. You know those lubricator
feeds you couldn't understand? I found that you'd left every oil-cock
turned off, and our starboard crank bearings would have been red-hot in
a few minutes. You are a careless beggar."
"I'm so mighty inquisitive," apologized Hopkins, and asked Elridge to
let him come down below again.
"Certainly not; I want you up here," said Captain Helston, in so angry a
manner that everyone was quite astonished.
The news that we were not going back soon spread amongst my men, and
Captain Helston ordered me to fall them in, just abaft the bridge, and
made them a little speech--just the right thing--no big words and
high-sounding phrases. He told them he was very sorry they wouldn't
have the opportunity of wishing their friends good-bye, said he relied
on them to do their duty, and held out the probability of prize-money.
He has a fine, tall, commanding figure, and his speech went down with
the men very well.
Nothing important happened. We never pressed the engines to full speed,
and after a short time dropped to fifteen knots, which we kept up all
through the afternoon, steering out of the usual course of ships running
up or down channel till we reached the rendezvous and stopped engines.
Next morning "No. 2" and "No. 3" joined us. Late that afternoon the
_Strong Arm_ and the _Sylvia_, armed store-ship, joined company, and,
ten hours later, we were all exceedingly pleased to sight the _Laird_.
Captain Helston, his secretary, and Dr. Fox went aboard her as soon as
possible, and the squadron, now united for the first time, steamed for
Gibraltar.
I rather fancy we were all somewhat disappointed at sneaking away in the
dark, as it were, and had rather expected, and looked forward to, a
hearty send-off. There wasn't much time for regrets, however, for we
had all our time taken up keeping station with the next ships ahead and
astern, and plenty to think about.
Our little squadron made a brave show. First came the _Laird_. She was
a cruiser of 6500 tons, with a narrow 4-inch belt all round her
water-line. On her fo'c'stle she carried an 8-inch Q.F., another on the
poop, and on each broadside were six 6-inch Q.F.--three on each side of
the main deck in casemates, and three above on the upper deck behind
shields.
Besides these she had eight 12-pounders and six 3-pounders, three in her
fore-top and three in the maintop of her military masts. Four Maxims
were mounted on the two bridges, and she also carried two 12-pounder
field-guns. She had Belleville boilers, and had done 22-1/2 knots on
her trial. She did not carry much coal, however, everything being
sacrificed to armour, guns, and speed, so that her total coal stowage
was only 900 tons.
After her came the _Strong Arm_: 3600 tons, eight 6-inch Q.F., ten
6-pounder Q.F., three 1-pounders; speed, 20 knots.
She had a search-light platform, with a fighting-top under it, on each
mast, and these gave her a somewhat clumsy appearance; but she was a
fine heavily armed little cruiser, and excellent in a sea-way.
The third in the line was the _Sylvia_, a trim, looking, strongly built
merchant steamer, with a raking funnel and two pole masts.
She had four 12-pounders mounted on her sides and in addition carried
two more field-guns and a couple of Maxim guns on field-carriages, which
two guns were destined to play a very important part.
Besides 2000 tons of coal, she carried great supplies of provisions,
ammunition, and stores of all kinds. On board also were the torpedoes
and torpedo-tubes of the destroyers, for these had been taken out to
lighten them during the long voyage to Hong-Kong. "No. 1", "No. 2", and
"No. 3", in this order, brought up the rear of the line. Each of us
carried one 12-pounder on our bridges, and five 6-pounders in addition.
As it happened, though otherwise almost indistinguishable, my boat, "No.
1", had four funnels; "No. 2", two large ones, far apart; whilst "No. 3"
had three. The identity of each could therefore be seen at a glance.
"No. 2" had actually made the highest speed on her trial, 29.6 knots,
"No. 3" had just touched 29.5, and my boat 28.9; but probably in a long
race there would not be much to choose between them. We could
practically keep up between 25 and 27 knots indefinitely, and be able
occasionally to get another two knots for a short burst.
As to the men who formed the crews, there were on board:
*Laird* ................... 463
*Strong Arm* .............. 312
*Sylvia* .................. 40
Three destroyers .......... 177
----
Total ................. 992
The _Laird_ carried 80 Marine Light Infantry and 100 naval petty
officers and men; all the rest of the crew were picked from the Naval
Reserve.
The _Strong Arm_ had 40 Royal Marine Artillery and 60 Royal Navy men.
All the crews of the destroyers were men of the Royal Navy, previously
trained in these delicate, fragile little craft.
Such was the composition of the little squadron, which, manned by nearly
a thousand men, all volunteers, slowly steamed away from the rendezvous
late on the afternoon of 18th October, and, painted a dull olive-green
from truck to water-line, shaped its course for Gibraltar, and soon
disappeared in the rapidly closing twilight.
*CHAPTER VI*
*The Voyage East*
A Gun-room "Sing-song"--The Dumpling gets Wet--Hopkins
Disappears--Off in Chase--Escape of One Patagonian--Off to
Colombo
_The Narrative of Mr. Harold Swinton Glover, Midshipman, R.N.,
serving on board the Imperial Chinese ship "Laird"_
You heard about all the rum things that happened to us before we left
England, and how we all went to sea suddenly, no one knew why. We
thought we were safe then; but not a bit of it, and just before we got
into Gibraltar they found a dynamite cartridge down in the stoke-hold,
mixed up with a lot of coal. It was jolly lucky they found it, for
Ogston--that's our Assistant Engineer--says there would have been an
"awful catastrophe" if it had got into a furnace. Don't think we were
in a funk, because we weren't--at any rate not all of us--but it is such
a beastly feeling to know that you may be blown up any minute.
The Skipper was terribly worried even before we got to Gibraltar, but
you should have seen his face when I took him down some telegrams they
brought off to the ship. I was midshipman of the watch. He gasped like
a dying fish, and sang out to the old Doctor, who was there: "They've
killed the Paymaster, and taken all his papers--mine and Hopkins's; did
it at Lyons, in the boat express."
They both looked so scared that I crept up on deck.
Afterwards I heard that the Paymaster had been left behind to bring some
valuable papers across Europe, and to join us at Port Said.
Well, we got into Malta, and more telegrams came aboard; but I wasn't on
watch, and didn't take them down. They must have been pretty serious,
though, for whilst we were all shifting into plain clothes in the
gun-room flat to go ashore, the Commander's messenger came running down
the ladder and sang out: "No leave for anybody!" So we had just to
shove our things back into our chests and get into our dirtiest uniform,
for the coal lighters were already alongside, and we were being
smothered with coal dust. Jolly sick of life we were, too, I can tell
you, for we had arranged to get ponies at Red Saliba's, down in the
moat, and were off for a picnic to St. Paul's Bay.
"Some of us would probably have been killed or broken up, so p'raps it's
all for the best," said Mellins (his real name was Christie, as I told
you before, a tremendously fat cadet, who always saw the cheerful side
of things), "and, now we've got the grub, we'll have a jolly good 'blow
out' afterwards."
Then we all had to nip on deck, where we found any amount of row going
on aft on the quarter-deck. The Skipper and Commander were there,
looking very serious, with two marines close to them, holding a Chinaman
covered with coal dust and in a terrible funk. You should have seen him
roll his eyes.
I asked the side-boy what the row was, and he told me that a stoker had
spotted him as a Chinaman, although his pigtail was coiled all round his
head and he had a big cap over it, had searched him, just for luck, and
found three dynamite cartridges in his pockets.
That was partly why our leave had been stopped, and one of us midshipmen
had to stand at each coaling-port, with a couple of petty officers and a
marine with fixed bayonet, examine every basket of coal, and prevent
anybody coming on board, whilst others had to go down in the lighters
themselves. "No blow out now," said Mellins sorrowfully, as he climbed
down past me into the lighter; "but won't it come in handy afterwards?"
We examined that coal pretty thoroughly, you bet! Directly it came
aboard it had to be upset on the deck, and we had to look through it
carefully. But didn't it take a time, that's all! and weren't we jolly
sick of it, especially when we couldn't get away for seven-bell tea?
Directly it got dark we knocked off, and then I had to go away in my
cutter and patrol the starboard side, with nothing to eat except a tin
of sardines, which Mellins passed out of the gun-room scuttle, and which
I shared with the coxswain. He got the best of it, for he drank the
oil.
We were relieved by another crew in an hour, and Mellins had saved me a
bit of grub, which I tucked into, whilst the others started a good old
gun-room sing-song.
Jeffreys, our Sub-lieutenant, who runs the show in the gun-room,
suggested it. "Just show the beggars we don't mind, and cheer the men
up. They've got dynamite on the brain."
When they heard our row some of the ward-room officers came down and
joined in, and Hopkins, the Skipper's secretary, a jolly Yankee, gave a
rattling good song. My eye! didn't we make a noise! and soon after the
men began a concert of their own, forward on the fo'c'stle. Presently
the Master-at-Arms came down to order "lights out", and Jeffreys asked
for another half-hour (Jeffreys is a good chap, though he does lay it
into us midshipmen if anything goes wrong), and the Clerk banged away at
the piano again.
Then who should come down but the Skipper; and we made way for him to
get a seat near the piano, and he joined in the chorus. When it was
over, he got up and said: "Thank you, gentlemen, your sing-song was a
good idea. Good-night!" And as he went away we gave him three cheers
and "For he's a jolly good fellow", and went to sleep on our chests and
in odd corners, for the ship and we were much too dirty to sling our
hammocks.
We were at it again soon after sunrise, looking at every lump that came
aboard, and some time after breakfast, whilst we were having a
stand-easy, three destroyers came slowly in, flying a funny flag, which
none of us had seen before, but which the signalman told me was the
Patagonian.
We could not help laughing, for the first one was towing both the
others, and one of these had a great list to port. It was a very
comical sight. Hopkins borrowed my glass. "I reckon that ain't much of
an advertise for the man who built those craft," he said in his funny
Yankee drawl; nor was it, for they had evidently broken down.
Well, we got all our coal in by noon, had an hour for dinner, and then
were hard at it cleaning down. It's really not bad fun, when you are
horribly coal-dusty and it's jolly hot, to paddle about in bare feet,
with your trousers tucked up above your knees, and the fire-hoses
splish-splashing on the deck and washing the coal dust away--you get
very wet, and it's jolly refreshing. I was bossing the quarter-deck,
and the old quarter-master and I were watching the newly arrived
destroyers, now busily coaling.
"What's them colours, sir?" said the wiry old man. "I never see'd 'em
afore, and I've been nigh twenty-four years at sea, man and boy."
"Patagonian," I answered, and he borrowed a telescope and looked at
them.
"Sure, there's some dirty Chinamen on board that craft, sir. Look at
their heads poking out of the engine-room 'atchway."
Sure enough, there were five or six unmistakable Chinese faces, and I
could see one coiling his pigtail round his head.
Of course we had Chinese on the brain rather badly, and Dunning (we
called him Suet Dumpling, because his name was Cyril--a sneaking,
under-handed, little midshipman, who couldn't pull himself up once on
the horizontal bar), who was standing by us, ran and told the lieutenant
on watch what we had seen, just as if he'd made the discovery himself,
and he was sent down to tell the Skipper.
Up came the Skipper, for he couldn't see the destroyers out of his
stern-ports, and stood looking at them, with that ass, Suet Dumpling,
grinning with importance just behind him. "Tell the Commander I want to
see him in my cabin," said the Skipper, and went down below again with a
very grim-looking face.
The Dumpling ran forward to find the Commander. Now the man who was
using the hose was washing down the battery-screen, close to the battery
door, and, just as the Dumpling was disappearing through it, I called
out to the man, and he turned round with the hose in his hand, just as I
wanted, Dumpling getting it all in his back--he had just shifted into a
clean white tunic, too. He was pretty wild, for he knew I had done it on
purpose, but didn't say anything, though I thought I had better not
sleep in my hammock that night, lest he should cut me down.
We slipped from our buoys at four o'clock and went to sea, passing quite
close to the Patagonians, but there were no Chinese to be seen, and men
were very busy on the two disabled ones, and the pumps on the one with
the list to port were going for alt they were worth.
Of course we were all excited, the men especially, for we'd become so
suspicious of Chinamen, that when everyone knew that there were some
aboard these destroyers, we felt sure there must be something wrong
about them.
"Why, Patagonia doesn't possess a single ship!" said Hammond, another of
our Assistant Engineers, a jolly little fellow, who is a walking
_Brassey's Naval Annual_, and knows every man-of-war in the world by
name, and what guns she has, and all that. "Rather odd these three
being there, and having Chinamen on board."
Then a rumour spread that the skipper had been heard to say to the
Doctor; "If they _are_, they won't give us much trouble, for two of them
seem badly broken down".
It was the detestable Dumpling who brought the news. "What did the
Doctor say then?" we asked.
"'Whatever they are, they've stopped me going ashore, hang them!
Everyone seems to have Chinese, pirates, dynamite, and Patagonia on the
brain,'" said Dumpling, imitating the Doctor's irritable way of talking.
We all laughed. "Just like the old Doc," said Mellins. "I had to go
for'ard to the sick bay this morning with stomach-ache, and he made me
take some beastly castor-oil on the spot. I hate the stuff," and he
grinned and said: "That's for kicking up that wretched row last night
down in the gun-room. Kept me awake till midnight."
"The selfish old brute," we all agreed; "he doesn't care what happens,
so long as he makes himself comfortable."
We were so excited about these destroyers, that I fancy most of us
imagined we should see them suddenly tearing after us.
Whatever the Skipper thought, he was at any rate not going to be caught
napping, and directly it was dark we altered course till we were twenty
miles north of the usual track, and not a single light was allowed to be
shown. I had to go round all the starboard cabins and see that the
dead-lights were down, and in the middle watch, which I kept aft on the
quarter-deck, I was responsible that they were kept closed. Funnily
enough, Mr. Hopkins wouldn't seem to understand that he mustn't show a
light, and twice I saw his scuttle lighted up during the night. I was
afraid the Skipper might come on deck and see it and drop on him, so
went down into his cabin. He seemed very bad-tempered, couldn't go to
sleep on account of the heat, and must have his scuttle open to get
fresh air, and his light burning to try to read himself to sleep. At
last I told him straight that I should report him to the lieutenant on
watch, and he then seemed to understand it really was necessary.
Nothing happened in the night, nothing indeed till we reached Port Said,
where, right in front of us, were the three Patagonians coaling again!
The Skipper got more telegrams here, and it soon leaked out that the
destroyers had all left Malta only two hours after us, all three
steaming very fast in our direction. The harbour-master told us they
had been in Port Said for two days, going out at dusk and not returning
till morning; so we then felt sure that the break-down at Malta was all
rot, and that they had simply been waiting for us off Port Said.
Luckily the Skipper had refused to go near Port Said in the dark, but
had waited about all night a long way to the north and east--the most
unlikely place for us to be.
As soon as we made fast to a buoy, I was sent away in the second cutter
and ordered to board the P. & O. _Isis_, which was lying off the Suez
Canal offices (she had come in early that morning from Brindisi with the
mails), and bring back a lieutenant who was to join us--a Mr. Staunton,
who had been left behind in London with the Paymaster, who was killed at
Lyons.
When I forced my way through the crowd of boats alongside, I slipped up
the ladder and asked for him. The quarter-master, however, said he had
gone in a man-of-war's boat several hours before, so I pulled back and
reported. Then I was sent over to H.M.S. _Hebe_, one of our own
gun-boats, doing guardship there, but they knew nothing of him--they had
sent a boat for mails to the _Isis_, but she certainly had brought back
no passengers. This was very strange, so I made my boat's crew lay back
to their oars, and reported to the Commander as soon as possible.
He took me down to the Skipper, who looked very vexed when he heard the
news. After that I and two other midshipmen had to go ashore and make
enquiries at the consuls and all the hotels--a terribly hot day, too, it
was, with an awful glare which fagged us all--but we could hear nothing
of him. When we got back to the ship the three Patagonians had gone,
and not only that, but Hopkins had disappeared, and, I can tell you,
there was tremendous excitement on board.
Everyone, of course, felt sure that Mr. Staunton was on board one of the
Patagonian destroyers and now miles down the canal, and many thought
that probably Mr. Hopkins too had been somehow decoyed away. You see he
was just the man they would want, for he was the Skipper's secretary and
would know everything. Whilst we three were trying to get something to
eat, the Commander's messenger sang out for me and Toddles (Toddles was
the next senior midshipman), so up we had to go again.
"Get a few warm things together, and be ready to leave the ship in five
minutes," he said. "You, Mr. Foote, are lent to 'No. 1', and you, Mr.
Glover, to 'No. 3'." As we left the cabin to hurry down below he called
out: "Don't forget flannel shirts and sea boots".
"All right, sir, thank you," we answered joyfully.
I borrowed one of Dumpling's bags, which I found lying about (I didn't
ask him), and we were ready before the boat came alongside, Mellins
giving us a basketful of grub as we shoved off. Toddles was put aboard
"No. 1", and then they put me aboard "No. 3", where I reported to Mr.
Parker, the lieutenant in command.
Luckily for me, Toddles in his hurry had forgotten his share of the
grub.
I was sent aft to look after the stern ropes and see that everything was
"clear" astern, for we were on the point of shoving off.
"What's up? Where are we off to?" I asked two men standing aft.
"Going after them pirates, sir, I expect. I heard Mr. Parker tell the
Sub-lootenant that we 'ad to follow them as 'ard as we could."
I hadn't any time to ask more, for Mr. Parker sang out from the bridge
"Let go aft!" and we hauled in the slip on the buoy astern. When the
rope was clear of her screws and rudder I shouted out "All clear astern,
sir", and away we went, following close behind "No. 2".
As we went past the other three ships the men crowded to the side and
cheered us, for they had got wind of what we were going to do. It does
make you feel ripping to hear and see people cheering you.
From the _Laird_ Mellins made a semaphore signal with his arms, "Is grub
safe?" so I waved back "Yes", and on we went into the canal. It soon
became dark, and our French pilot made us run our search-light, though
it wasn't much good, as the bridge got in the way. However, it lighted
up both sides of the steep sandy banks, and we followed "No. 2" somehow
or other. Of course we wanted to go as fast as we could, and the pilot
nearly had apoplexy, shrieking and gesticulating with fright or anger,
whenever "No. 2" forged too far ahead and we had to put on a few more
revolutions to close up. "The wash, it will damage the banks!" he
yelled. "They will make you pay. I give up my authority--I wipe my
hands." Then we would slow down again and he would be quiet.
We reached the Great Bitter Lake about eleven o'clock and there changed
pilots. The Patagonians were only two hours ahead, and we simply tore
through this part of the canal. I felt jolly nervous, I can tell you,
for everything looked all the darker on account of the searchlight, and
we were simply sticking on to the stern of "No. 2". If she or "No. 1"
had stopped suddenly we should have been all in a heap. I expect "No.
1" had an English pilot on board, or a Norwegian, perhaps. Our
Frenchman was paralysed with funk.
We quieted down when we got into the narrow canal again.
We had to tie up once to let a big British India mail steamer pass us,
and did not get out of the canal till ten next morning.
The Patagonians, we were told, had left three hours before; so after
them we bustled, only stopping to let our pilots be taken off.
"Steam for full speed" was signalled from "No. 1", and down below dived
Mr. Chapman, our engineer, to superintend things in the stokehold.
"They have three hours' start," said Mr. Parker to the Sub, "and it will
be a very long stern chase."
"What have we to do if we catch them?" he asked.
"Search them," replied Mr. Parker.
"But what if they won't let us?"
"Search them," replied Mr. Parker, with a queer twinkle in his eye, and
then I knew that there might be a fight. It gave me a funny feeling in
my stomach, but I knew I was jolly lucky to get the chance and so ought
to feel glad, and I really think I did.
We were all going it now with a vengeance. The smoke from "No. 1" and
"No. 2" nearly blinded us, and we were shaking and throbbing as the hum
of the engines gradually rose, our bows coming out of the water, and our
stern squatting down in a mass of foam as we rushed into the wake of the
others ahead of us.
I had never been so fast in my life, and was holding on to the bridge
rails to avoid being blown away.
We went on like this for hours, and I felt too excited to go down below
and get anything to eat. That shows what a ripping thing it is to be
rushing along in a destroyer with an enemy ahead.
Presently we formed line abreast, "No. 2" on the starboard and we on the
port side of "No. 1", about three miles away from each other, so as to
cover more ground.
As it was getting dark we saw "No. 1" slow down to speak a small
merchant steamer going north, and directly afterwards we were ordered
back to Suez to inform Captain Helston that all three Patagonians had
been sighted steaming south very fast.
Round went our helm, we heeled well over, our stern swung round, and we
were off on our way back before you could say "knife"; but you should
have heard what Mr. Parker and the Sub said, and the quarter-master too,
for that matter, only he didn't do it so loudly.
We made our number to the _Laird_ at Suez early next morning, having
kept up nearly twenty-seven knots for the last twenty hours--a jolly
good performance. We hadn't to wait long, for we ran alongside the
_Sylvia_, filled up with coal, took ten tons in bags on deck, and away
we went for Aden at twenty knots--quite an easy, comfortable speed.
I had to see the coal aboard, and made myself beastly dirty, and much
missed the gun-room bath on board the _Laird_.
We got into Aden on the third afternoon without meeting any adventures.
"No. 2" and "No. 1" were there, and so were two of the three
Patagonians.
Mr. Pattison and Mr. Lang, the Skippers of "No. 1" and "No. 2", came
aboard of us directly. They told us that they had reached Aden only
four hours after the Patagonians.
They immediately made arrangements to coal, and meanwhile had gone on
board the two Patagonians in frock coats and swords, and been received
in a very friendly manner, and shown all over both, and not a trace of
Staunton, Hopkins, or Chinese, for the matter of that, could they see.
"We felt rather sold, you can imagine," said Mr. Pattison, "at having
our long chase for nothing--a very tame ending."
The third destroyer, we were told by people on shore, had left an hour
before we came, and was sighted from the top of the rock making east,
till she disappeared below the horizon steaming at great speed.
"I could not follow her," continued Mr. Pattison, "for of course we had
no coal, and some of our condenser-tubes were leaking badly, and both of
us required a few days in harbour to put things right down in the
engine-room. And not only that, but I dare not let these two
Patagonians out of my sight, for Captain Helston thinks they will
probably lie in wait for him in the Straits to the westward."
"We can go on directly we've coaled," interposed Mr. Parker eagerly,
"for there is nothing the matter with us. Is there, Chapman?"
"No, rather not," answered our Engineer, adding, "we're Laird's built,
you know."
"Very good," said Mr. Pattison, who was the senior of the three
Lieutenants and therefore took command, "off you go to Colombo as soon
as you have coaled, watered, and provisioned. The third Patagonian has
most probably shipped Staunton, Hopkins, and all the Chinese to allay
our suspicions of these other two, and whatever course she steers, if
she is going out to the East, she must fetch up at Colombo. If she
won't allow you to search her there, follow her out to sea and compel
her to heave-to."
"Very good, sir," replied Mr. Parker, saluting.
"Well, good-bye, old chap; wish you good luck. Lang and I will be off,
for here come your coal-lighters. When you are ready to shove off I'll
make you a misleading signal, which you must act upon till out of sight
of land, for those fellows can probably read our semaphore, and will be
standing by to get any information possible."
*CHAPTER VII*
*The Pursuit of the Patagonian*
We Sight Her--A Stern Chase--We Overhaul Her--We Have to
Apologize--Spinning the Yarn
_Mr. Midshipman Glover's Narrative continued_
For the next two hours we were hard at work, and when we signalled that
we were ready for sea, and hoisted the "permission to weigh and proceed
in pursuance of previous orders", "No. 1" semaphored, "Inform _Laird_
that I cannot meet squadron, as condensers require repair".
"That's the misleading signal," Mr. Parker said, as he and the Sub spelt
it out; "I only hope those fellows read and swallow it, for if they do
they will imagine we are going up the Red Sea again."
To "create a diversion", as the Sub put it, we steered W. after clearing
the harbour till out of sight of land, as if we were going to meet the
squadron, then we steered S.E. for a couple of hours, and finally
altered our course for Colombo.
It was very hot, very tedious, and very monotonous work steaming across
the Indian Ocean. We had to go slow to economize our coal, and all
fresh food gave out two days after we left Aden, and I hate tinned stuff
altogether. I had to do my share of watch-keeping during the day, and
soon learnt to handle "No. 3" as easily as a ship's steam-boat. You can
imagine we grew excited as we began to approach Colombo. Whether we
caught her or not depended almost entirely on whether they had believed
the misleading signal at Aden, for if they thought we were on our way to
Colombo, they would have, of course, hurried her away by telegraph.
"If we don't catch her now we never shall, for there are any number of
places she can hide in and coal between Colombo and Singapore or
Saigon," said Mr. Parker.
"Well, shall we shove her on a little?" suggested Mr. Chapman. "At this
rate we shall get in to-morrow evening with eighteen tons of coal on
board. I could give you another knot and a half if you like."
There was a long discussion about it--I was too young, of course, and
did not have anything to say--but they finally decided it would be safer
to have some few tons in hand.
"You see," argued Mr. Parker, as all three leant up against the bridge
rails, "if they sight us before they know by telegram that we are on our
way, they may think that we have no coal left and may 'clear out',
imagining that we can't chase them. That would be certainly their most
reasonable plan, wouldn't it? That's what I should do if I were in
their shoes. We will just shove on every knot you can give us, Chapman,
directly we sight the lighthouse, and that won't give them much time to
get away."
I had the morning watch from four till eight, and had gone below to get
some breakfast--sardines, jam, and ship's biscuit--when suddenly I heard
the engine-room gong clang, and could feel the engines whizzing round.
The plates began dancing about the table, and my coffee was nearly all
spilt before I could drink it. I stuffed down the last two sardines in
one mouthful and rushed up on deck. All the men were crowding forward
under the bridge, gesticulating and pointing ahead. Climbing up to the
bridge, I could make out the lighthouse and the long breakwater of
Colombo.
"Is she coming out, sir?" I asked, for I could not see anything through
my telescope--we were shaking so, and the ship was so unsteady. "The
signalman says she is," said Mr. Parker, with his eye glued to his
telescope. "Yes, there she goes! Look at that dark patch on the
breakwater. That's smoke, and she's underneath it. My eye! she's
getting up speed pretty quickly."
In another half-minute we could see her with the naked eye. She was
showing up dark against the white breakwater, and was tearing through
the water, running almost at right angles to us till she cleared the
breakwater and the rocks. We were drawing rapidly together when she put
her helm over. We saw her heel over, swing round, right herself as she
settled down on her proper course, and away she flew, the Patagonian
flag stiffening out astern.
"Follow her, Davis," sang out Mr. Parker to the petty officer at the
wheel, as he tried to light his pipe behind the chart table. "Go to
quarters, Collins (the Sub), and pass up ammunition." The Gunner and
Mr. Collins flew down on deck to see everything prepared, leaving only
Mr. Parker and myself on the bridge.
He shouted down the engine-room voice tube, "How much coal have you
left, Chapman?"
"Nearly fourteen tons."
"How long will that last at full speed?"
"Rather more than an hour and a half," came the muffled reply.
"Then give me every ounce of steam you can raise."
At the time the Patagonian had altered course there was about one mile
and a half between us, but she was rapidly gaining, for we had not yet
reached our highest speed, and she was evidently doing all she knew.
She was almost hidden under a great cloud of smoke, and occasionally
entirely hidden by spray, for a slight choppy head sea, which we had not
noticed before when going slowly, was now covering us fore and aft with
spray.
Down I had to go to see the boats all ready for lowering, and when this
was done run several messages to the Sub, who by this time had men at
all the guns, and plenty of ammunition on deck. There wasn't much doubt
that Mr. Chapman and his men were doing their utmost, for now we could
feel the engines humming round like sewing machines, the ship began to
throb and vibrate with a funny wriggle which you could almost see when
you looked aft along the deck from the bridge. It was just as much as I
could do to hang on to the bridge rails with one hand and keep my cap on
with the other, whilst the spray wetted us from head to foot. The
12-pounder's gun crew had come up to the bridge and fondly cleared her
away and loaded her. Then I felt that funny sensation in my stomach
again, the sardines and the wobbling I expect it was, and hung on to the
bridge and gasped for breath between the showers of spray.
You should have seen our funnels! What paint was left on them came off
just like the skin of scarlet fever people when they peel, great roaring
flames licked out of them, and clouds of smoke went rushing aft, whilst
astern was a huge mass of churned-up foam, looking as if it would fall
on board.
We must have been chasing her for nearly half an hour, and did not
appear to be gaining. Mr. Parker kept on anxiously looking at his watch
as we rushed along--now leaving Colombo behind us and running away from
the dark belt of trees which marked the shore.
Presently Mr. Chapman came up on deck, sweating all over. "She's doing
as many revolutions as she did on her trials," he shouted; "her engines
won't take any more steam, I'm only blowing it off," and he pointed to
clouds of steam hissing away from each funnel.
"Make a signal, 'I wish to communicate and send a boat', and keep it
flying," roared Mr. Parker to the signalman, who was evidently prepared,
for he had already bent the proper flags and pendants to the halyards
and quickly hoisted them, the bunting stiffening in the wind like
painted steel. I forgot to say that the Chinese ensign, the Yellow
Dragon, was flying at our stern. How we did wish it was our own white
ensign.
We all watched for a reply, but none came. There was no doubt we were
now gaining--we could plainly make out a few men on her bridge looking
at us from time to time--and judging from the great masses of smoke
which were pouring from her funnels, the stokers must have been working
desperately hard to escape from us.
"We're well out of the three-mile limit, I think, Collins?" shouted Mr.
Parker.
"Yes, sir--ten miles away."
"Then try a shot at twelve hundred yards, Jones (the 'No. 1' of the
12-pounder). Go as close to her as you can without hitting her."
"Very good, sir." And Jones, a huge muscular man pressed his shoulder
against the mounting and bent over the sights. How we did throb and
pitch--the muzzle of the gun never seemed still, and it seemed ages
before Jones fired. There was a beastly sharp crack, the cordite smoke
drove back into our eyes, and we all strained to see the result. The
shell burst half a mile ahead of the Patagonian as it struck the water.
"No one can shoot from a platform like this," Collins said angrily;
"we're dancing about like a lot of marionettes."
Jones fired another shot, which burst astern, but not the slightest
effect had either--still no answer to our signal, and no attempt to
lessen speed.
Just then Mr. Chapman reported that he only had two more tons left, and
had swept every bunker. Mr. Parker groaned, "She'll get away, and I
can't even get back to Colombo. Carry on firing as fast as you can,
Collins, with your two for'ard 6-pounders."
Then we heard, below us, the joyful voice of the Gunner singing out,
"Target, right ahead, at one thousand--independent firing--commence."
Wasn't there a banging. But I was too excited to mind the noise, and we
all cheered as every now and again one of our little shells burst close
to the Patagonian. We were closing rapidly, and could see all but two
of her men clear rapidly down below. Then one of our shells struck a
boat they had stowed inboard near the stern, and great pieces of it flew
into the air. Didn't we cheer, for at this they had evidently had
enough of it, and clouds of steam came roaring out of their funnels as
they stopped their engines. We were going so fast that we were almost on
top of them before Collins jumped for the telegraph, and put the engines
full speed astern and the helm hard over. With a great trembling and
shaking our way was stopped, we swung clear, and lay still not fifty
yards away from our prize. There was hardly need to use the engine-room
telegraph to stop the engines, for they were gradually slowing down.
Our fires were burning low, and there was no coal to replenish them.
"Train every gun that will bear on her," sung out Mr. Parker, "and stand
by to fire. Get out the boats."
In two minutes the dinghy was in the water, and Mr. Parker was bobbing
across the fifty yards that separated us. I had to follow him with six
men in the collapsable Berthon boat, each of them armed with cutlass and
rifle.
I felt jolly proud, you can imagine. We were alongside in a "jiffy".
"You first, sir," said the coxswain, and shoved me up the smooth side,
and I climbed aboard, followed by two of the men.
Mr. Parker was listening to a horrid little officer who was
gesticulating and talking very furiously.
"Take six of your men to the fore bridge and don't leave it till I give
you orders, and kick everyone else out of it," he ordered, so up we
climbed and kicked the two men still left there down the ladder. They
didn't want much kicking.
In a few minutes Mr. Parker went below, followed by the little officer,
still stamping and swearing. He seemed to stay there for ages, and I
was wondering whether I had not better send some of my men down after
him, but could not disobey his orders, and of course there was "No. 3"
with her guns trained on us not fifty yards away, and that was
reassuring.
Presently up he came on deck, followed by Hopkins and a man I knew must
be Mr. Staunton. The men in "No. 3" saw them and raised a great cheer;
indeed, it was splendid to have rescued them, and so jolly lucky too,
for we could not have caught her if she had run away for another five
minutes.
But the best part of the "show" was to come, for presently up poured a
number of Chinamen, I should think quite fifty, and they were taken
across to "No. 3" in small parties till there wasn't one left. I felt
jolly sorry for Mellins and the others of the _Laird_ that they weren't
there to see that little man stamp and fume and curse, whilst Mr. Parker
looked on perfectly unconcernedly, and my six men kept their rifles at
the present. I made 'em do this--I thought it would look better. When
all the Chinese had gone, Mr. Chapman and his stokers came across, and
the last boat-load towed over a grass hawser. With this they hauled
aboard one of "No. 3's" cables, and then it dawned upon me that the
Patagonian was going to tow us back to Colombo, for, of course, as I
said before, we had no coal left, and were perfectly helpless.
It seemed rather rash to trust all those Chinese on board "No. 3" with
only the very few hands left in her, but the leading seaman I had with
me said, "Why, bless your 'eart, sir, them devils is all doves and
sucklings now", and as he had been out on the Chinese station and knew
them, that settled it.
Well, we got back to Colombo all right, and tied up to buoys inside the
breakwater, and then there was a proper row. The skipper of the
Patagonian went ashore and wired to his Government, and they wired to
Peking, and Peking wired to us, and the result was that Mr. Parker had
to put on his No. 1 frock coat and apologize very humbly for his
"unwarrantable and high-handed proceeding". The fact was, you see, that
the little man, who had been an officer in the Mexican navy, really had
all his papers in order, and no doubt had a commission from the
Patagonian Government. He swore he knew nothing about Mr. Staunton and
Hopkins except that they had been put aboard at Aden from the other two
destroyers, "and they take away all my good men there and give me
Chinese pigs". That explained why we had seen no Chinese in Aden on
board the other two.
Mr. Staunton told us his adventures, and how he had been captured at
Port Said.
When the _Isis_, bringing Mr. Staunton from Brindisi, had anchored at
Port Said, a man-of-war's whaler manned by men dressed as English
blue-jackets, and flying the Yellow Dragon, had come alongside for him.
Without the least suspicion he had been pulled across to a destroyer
also flying the Chinese colours, naturally thinking it was one of our
own.
Directly he climbed aboard he was seized and tumbled down below. They
had not misused him, but you can imagine what his feelings must have
been; and he said the food was awful, although they gave him whatever
they could. "How that destroyer did stink on the way across from Aden,
with all that crowd of Chinese on board!" he said, grimacing with
disgust at the very thought of it.
Mr. Hopkins told his adventures too. "Just hustled ashore to have a
squint at those cunning weasels alongside the coal wharf, guessed they'd
played us a mighty smart trick way back at Malta, and was mighty
inquisitive to see 'the cut of their jibs'. Ain't been looking at 'em
time enough to see a cat jump, when round came two hands in front of my
face, fingers on 'em, too, like steel claws, and laid hold of my
windpipe as loving as a mother-in-law.
"Then someone caught me a whack behind the knees which brought me down,
and before I could say 'Johnny Jones' I was lifted up, bundled on board,
and plumped on deck like a bag of spuds." Mighty pleased they both were
to be rescued, and Mr. Hopkins kept on smacking his thigh and roaring
with laughter. "My snakes, how those black-livered, herring-gutted,
fried-up tar-brushes of Patagonians did get to wind'ard of you at Malta!
Just about won this round though, Parker?"
"I should just think we had," answered Mr. Parker, smiling.
Well, in the middle of all this off came a Cingalee telegraph boy with
what turned out to be a telegram from Captain Helston. Mr. Parker came
on deck after he had deciphered it, with a very grave face, and said:
"Mr. Hopkins, I am ordered by Captain Helston to inform you that you
must consider yourself under arrest for going ashore without leave at
Port Said. I must request you to go below."
This was a facer for everybody; but Mr. Hopkins, with a look of
amazement, obeyed immediately, leaving us on deck wondering why Captain
Helston had been so severe. "His worries must have made him confoundedly
strict," said Mr. Parker.
For the next days we lay at this buoy, keeping our eyes on the
Patagonian, and with steam "up" in case she tried to leave.
We had a jolly good time ashore, and the dinners at the Grand Oriental
Hotel in the cool of the evening, with the punkahs swinging to and fro,
were simply ripping.
Then along came the rest of the squadron safe and sound, much to our
delight, and Mr. Staunton and Mr. Hopkins were sent over to the _Laird_.
The latter was certain to get a terrible wigging from Captain Helston,
and we all felt very sorry for him.
Mellins and a lot of other midshipmen came over from the _Laird_, and
Tommy Toddles from "No. 1", bringing a big cake his mater had sent out
by the mail. We had a tremendous chin wag, and it was jolly to meet
them all again, and spin them the yarn of our chase and capture of the
Patagonian. How they did envy me!
Whenever I see a big cake now, I always think of that afternoon, sitting
round the after 6-pounder gun platform, with the awning over our heads,
and the big scavenger-birds (Bromley kites we call them) swooping round
us as we ate our way through Tommy's cake.
A big P. & O. liner, too, homeward bound--she had waited an hour to take
our mails--passed close to us, and the passengers all came to the side
and cheered us, so we midshipmen gave a loud whoop all together, which
brought Mr. Parker up on deck to order us to "chuck it".
They went back to their ship soon, and we had to patrol the mouth of the
harbour after sunset, in case those other two Patagonians came in.
*CHAPTER VIII*
*Mr. Ping Sang is Outwitted*
Helston's Letter--A Tsi has Information--Ping Sang Acts
Quickly--Ping Sang Watches--Ping Sang in Trouble--A Tsi
Escapes--A Tsi Sights the Squadron--A Tsi Gives Warning
Mr. Ping Sang lived usually at Shanghai, but on hearing of the departure
of Helston's squadron from Colombo, he had hurried down to Hong-Kong to
confer with a friend of his, a wealthy merchant named Ho Ming, and to
arrange for the rapid provisioning and refitting of the ships.
It was very necessary for the squadron to complete its task without
delay, because the expenses of its maintenance were an enormous drain on
the resources of the Trading Association, and also the depredations of
the pirates had become so frequent, and their raids so successful, that
coastal trade by Chinese-owned ships was at a stand-still. One thing
was very clear, only ships belonging to Chinese subjects were attacked,
and the most tempting bait, if belonging to Europeans, was left severely
alone. Not a month ago a fine new steamer of 5000 tons had disappeared
without leaving a trace whilst running from Amoy to Swatow--in fine
weather, too--and it appeared that the pirates had begun to extend their
operations to the northern part of the coast, for several ships had
lately vanished near the mouth of the Yangtze in the most unaccountable
manner.
An English gun-boat cruising among the Chusan Islands had reported
meeting three ships flying the Chinese colours, ships which they were
almost positive did not belong to the Chinese Government; but when a
further search was made for them, they had disappeared.
Ping Sang was also anxious that the stay of the squadron at Hong-Kong
should be as short as possible, for he was convinced that if the pirates
intended making any more attempts to destroy the ships, they would
choose that harbour in which to do it. One reason was that, ready to
hand among the crews of the myriad of junks always assembled there, were
hundreds of cut-throats from the lower reaches of the West river only
too willing to commit any crime for money; and he was especially anxious
to confer with Ho Ming, for this merchant owned a large fleet of junks
trading up the river beyond Canton, and their captains and crews would
probably be better able to obtain information as to the presence or
suspicious movements of these desperadoes than even the police
authorities themselves.
These two--Ping Sang and Ho Ming--were sitting in the latter's
smoking-room on the evening of December 21 smoking their after-dinner
cigars, whilst A Tsi, Ho Ming's confidential clerk and comprador, was
detailing the results of his enquiries among the native floating
population.
They were interrupted by an obsequious, white-gowned butler, who
advanced through the mat-screened doorway and handed a letter to Ping
Sang--a letter which Captain Helston had written from Singapore.
"The Imperial Chinese Ship _Laird_,
Singapore, _14th December_.