I writes to my ole missus once in a way, and to the kiddies when their
birthdays come along, having got a list of 'em all written down proper
inside the lid o' my "ditty-box"[#], 'cause I can't never remember 'em,
but that's all the writin' I ever does, excep' writin' up the rough log
when I'm on watch. And sometimes, when I'm a bit flush of the dollars,
I sends 'em a curio, for the ole woman just 'ankers arter things from
furrin' parts, and shows 'em to all 'er pals in the village--living down
Dorchester way, she does. I've knowed her just puff 'erself like a hen
what 'as the dandiest lot of chicks in the farm-yard, just becos' I
gives 'er a real Chinee dollar when I goes home from this 'ere station
three years ago come next Michaelmas, and they all peers over it and
'andles it, and says "I'm blessed! I'm jiggered! Well, my never! and
them there 'eathen savidges made that all along 'emselves," and I larfs
to myself (and 'as to take me pipe out o' my mouth, I larf so 'earty),
for all along I knowed it was made up to Birmingham in the mint there.
But that's jest like wimmin folk, they's so blooming simple in some
things, though you can't get round 'em in others.
[#] "_Ditty-box_", small wooden box in which men keep their letters and
small personal effects.
But that ain't nothin' to do with this 'ere story, so I'll jest start
right away.
We'd 'ad a pretty 'ard time of it a-punchin' up from 'Ong-Kong and then
a-fightin' most of the forenoon with them pirates, the which was just a
bit of a picnic, and makes us all the more 'earty for our meals and pipe
o' baccy.
Mr. Parker, says 'e, "That was your shot did the trick", 'e says, when
the pirate we'd been worrying all the morning, like my little dawg at
'ome worries the rats over to Farmer Gilroy's corn-bins, busts up; but I
ain't taking all the credit, because "No. 2" was firing furious-like all
the time, and maybe she did it, though, mind you, that 12-pounder of
mine don't make bad shooting when we ain't jumpin' into a 'ead sea.
Then we runs back to the flag-ship, an' I has to go away in the dinghy
an' try to save some o' them Chinese savidges. We gets upset, an' that
'ere midshipman, Mr. Glover, ain't very 'andy at 'anging on, an' I have
to look arter 'im pretty close.
He's a rare plucked un, 'e is, an' as cheerful and bright-like as a
nigger a-basking on the coral strand, with the sun a-shining in the
hazure skies above 'im and bernarnas a-growing all around 'im in plenty.
It does one good to see 'is merry face, and all of us on the lower deck
have just made up our minds to look arter 'im, come what may.
When you've dropped your last pipe overboard, and there ain't no more
spuds to be 'ad, or ain't got no terbacco, an' no matches if you 'ad,
and there ain't a dry spot anywhere, and everything is just dolesome,
along 'e comes as cheerful as a blooming cricket, and it do your 'eart
good just for to see 'im.
We all says when they send Mr. Foote ("Toddles", the Orficers call 'im)
to "No. 3": "Now, these two young gen'l'men will be 'appy", for, you
see, they be great pals, and afore 'e came Mr. Glover 'ad no one to
fight.
Well, I must 'urry on with this yarn. We gets to the pirate island
about six bells (three o'clock) in the afternoon, 'aving had a stand
easy after dinner and a lay off the land, or forty winks, as you calls
it ashore.
We was a-punchin' along easy-like astern of the _Laird_, "No. 2" being
just a'ead, and the _Sylvia_ a-coming up from the southward, fifty miles
astern by this time, an' I was standing outside o' the galley a-passing
the time o' day with Cooky, who was a-drying my wet things and Mr.
Glover's, the things what we had on when the dinghy capshuted, and
grumbling like ole 'Arry that a shell had bust in his galley and made a
'ole in his best saucepan and smashed a lot of the Orficers' crockery.
"'Ow can I do mysel' justice," he says, "with all 'em things a-busted
up. I does my best, s'elp me, for them Orficers, but, there, they
always be grumbling--the spuds ain't cooked, or the entray is cold, or
the blooming aigs is 'ard boiled or ain't boiled enough. And the lower
deck be just as bad. Bill Williams of No. 3 mess comes a-rushing along
with a meat-pie as big as a 'ouse, covered with twisted bits o' pastry,
and though there ain't room on top o' the galley for a aig-cup, I shoves
it on top o' somethin' else; and Nobby Hewitt of No. 5--them stokers be
always the most partickler--comes an' 'e wants 'is mess's bits o' meat
roasted; and, lor' love me, what with one toff wantin' 'em stooed, and
another roast, an' another sings out as cheerful as if the 'ole ship was
a galley, 'Boiled for us, Cooky', 'Old Fatty', or 'Carrots', or some o'
their 'air-raising impertinences, why, strike me pink! there be hardly
room to cook a blooming sparrah, and they all egspecs me to go on
a-basting with one 'and, a-turning a joint with another, an' stirring a
stoo with another, and pokin' the fire, and pitchin' on coals, and
fetching water all in the same breath; an' 'ere you comes and fills me
doll's-'ouse with yer dripping clothes.
"Is it any wonder," Cooky continued, wiping 'is 'ands on 'is apron,
"that my countenance ain't always a-smiling like a green bay-tree, or
skipping like a young ram; now, is it, I awsks you?"
He was a very religious man was Cooky, secre-tary to the Naval
Temperance Society aboard us, and he played the 'armonium at church on
Sunday.
"So long as we don't go a-fightin' when the galley is chuck-full o' the
men's grub a-cooking, I'll come out on top,", he says patient-like; "and
when I plays the 'armonium they'll join in the hymns more 'earty, and
maybe sign the pledge.
"I've a great scheme," he continued, "for makin' 'em sign the pledge. I
knows exactly 'ow many men in each mess are temperance men, and the more
as 'ave signed on in any one mess, the more I looks arter that there
mess's food be cooked proper, an', so you see, they'll all sign on afore
this commission's out, just to get their food to their likin'. I tried
that plan in the ole _Thunderer_."
"But you got yourself into trouble," I said, larfing.
"Well, I did get my leave stopped for six weeks once, and lost a badge
another time, but it was all took cheerful-like. We all 'ave our
burdens to bear, Jones."
An' 'e says, "I was a-watchin' o' your shootin' that 12-pounder of yours
this morning, Pat Jones, and says I to mysel', ''E ain't a bad fellow is
Jones, an' if 'e took up savings[#] for 'is rum 'e might 'it what 'e
aimed at--sometimes'".
[#] Men who do not want their rum are allowed a little more than the
actual value of it. This is called "taking up savings".
"Never you mind about that 12-pounder o' mine, Mister Cooky. I don't
come 'ere telling you 'ow to cook," said I to him, and was going to put
it much more plainer, for he riles me, does Cooky, when along comes the
Orficers' domestic a-singing out: "'Ave you got the 'ot water for the
Orficers' arternoon tea?" and Cooky, grumbling "'E can't work no
blooming miracles, 'e can't", goes off to draw some water, what 'e might
have done all the time he'd been jawing to me, so I saunters off with
them clothes, which are pretty near dry by this time.
Well, we ar'n't getting much way on this yarn, but we'd got to the
island we'd come all this way to see, a middlin'-sized piece o' land,
and going in closer, according to a signal from the flag-ship, we sees a
bit of a channel running into the middle of it between high cliffs on
each side. A nasty-looking coast it was, as ever I saw, without no
beach where you could land in comfort, but ugly great black rocks
a-sticking out all round, with the big seas a-pounding themselves to
pieces on 'em. "If there's to be any boat-work in this 'ere place, look
out for trouble, Pat Jones," says I to myself.
We steamed close in, ginger-like, and spied a lumbering junk a-sailing
clumsily out towards us, and when she gets nearer we sees her flying the
white flag at the peak of her great sail made of matting; and then,
strike me pink! if she didn't 'oist the "wish to communicate" flags at
her mast-head. If a polar bear came up to you in the street o'
Portsmouth and said, "Beg pardon, but can you tell me where I can get a
ice", you wouldn't 'ave been more struck aback than we were to see that
dirty junk a-'oisting signals all regular-like.
"Bless my rags," I 'eard Mr. Parker say, "but that about takes the
currant biscuit for cheek;" and after a bit of rummaging in the
signal-book we hoisted "Send a boat", and they answered it from the junk
and sent a boat across to us, a man-of-war's whaler which they had tied
up at the stern, with a crew of Chinese dressed as
bluejackets--stolid-looking ruffians they were, too, as they squinted up
at us from their wicked little eyes. They brought a letter for Mister
Ping Sang, the fat old gent who, they tell me, forks out the dollars to
keep this show going, and has come along o' Captain Helston to see the
fun.
Back we goes to the _Laird_, and Mr. Parker takes it across in the
dinghy and comes back, 'alf larfing an' 'alf swearing, with a couple of
big portmanties and ten bags of dollars sealed up, and all 'eavy as you
could make 'em.
We shoves off back to that junk and 'ands 'em all over to her; but it
was all a mystery to me till Mr. Glover tells me afterwards that the fat
Chinese gent 'ad been a-playing cards with the pirate chief when he was
kept a prisoner and lost all that mint of money, an' 'ad been juggins
enough to promise to pay it up and bring the luggage what that
Englishman who nabbed him had left be'ind 'im at 'Ong-Kong.
Blister my heels! if it didn't fairly give me the knock-out! And that
junk just 'oisted 'er boat aboard and sailed 'ome again with all those
dollars, the crew maybe a-cocking snooks at us over the stern.
An', just as her big sail disappears under them cliffs, blest if the
pirates didn't fire a big gun at us from the top of 'em, though we were
five miles off if we were a yard. It didn't fetch up by a couple o'
hundred yards, but splashed into the sea and racochied over'ead, playing
ducks-and-drakes a mile the other side.
When they see'd that one go short they fires another, an' the signalman
sings out that it is comin' straight for us, and lays down on 'is belly;
he never done this since--we chaffed 'im so immerciful--and a good many
of the youngsters would 'ave done the same if they'd had the moral
courage, what they hadn't.
It did come mighty close and struck the water not fifty yards away,
buzzing off again like a hive of bees out for a airing.
Well, you bet we didn't wait for any more o' them "kind enquiries and
'ow are you", but were hup, hoff, an' hout of it, hout of range.
"No. 2" came along more gently after us, for nothing short of a mad dawg
would make Mr. Lang move 'urriedly unless 'e wanted to partickler, an',
bless my 'eart! 'e wouldn't 'urry out of range for no pirates, though
the _Laird_ 'oisted "close on the flag-ship" and fired a small gun to
make 'im pay attention.
And all the time we watched them getting his range and dropping shell,
first on one side and then on the other, first a'ead and then astern,
a-holding our breath, sometimes they was going so close, though they
never hit 'im.
When he did get out o' range an' they ceased firing, we rather got the
hump that we'd run away so fast.
"I'm taking no chances," I 'eard Mr. Parker say to the Sub-lootenant, as
'e keeps his eye on "No. 2" with great spouts of water splashin' hup all
round her, and p'raps 'e was right.
It was pretty well dark afore we got back to the _Laird_, and both Mr.
Parker and Mr. Lang had to go aboard for more orders, whilst we went to
supper.
Cooky was in a great state o' mind. "That second shot," says 'e,
putting 'is 'ead out, "was comin' straight for my galley. If the pirate
what fired it 'ad lowered 'is sights a 'ands turn, and been a temp'rance
man, it would 'ave been all U.P. with your blooming tea water, an' there
wouldn't 'ave been no more cooking aboard this 'ere ship, an' no more
Cooky to cook vittles an' play the 'armonium."
The Skipper comes back from the _Laird_, and she an' the _Sylvia_ steam
slowly away into the darkness, showin' not a single light, though we
could trace them for about a mile, when they just seemed to disappear,
leaving us alone for the night a-feelin' lonesome-like.
Mr. Glover came round to see every scuttle along the sides closed and
the dead-lights screwed down, so that not a light should be seen, an'
even Cooky's galley fire had to be raked out, for it made a tidy glow
amidships.
It turns out that Captain Helston expected them pirate torpedo-boats to
come out during the night, and we and "No. 2" were to go close in, at
each side of the entrance, an' try an' cut some of 'em hoff.
We'd lost sight of "No. 2" by this time, as she sheered off in the dark
to take up her station, and, as light after light was put out aboard us,
even the engine-room 'atchways being covered hup, it seemed to make the
night darker and darker, till it was just like pitch, and we put our
'ands out in front to feel where we were going, and spoke in whispers.
It was getting cold, too, and Mr. Parker goes past me on 'is way to the
bridge with 'is greatcoat buttoned up round 'is neck. "More work
to-night, Jones. See that your night sights are in good order, and get
up plenty of ammunition," 'e says, an' I answers, "Very good, sir," and
goes hoff to overhaul the gun gear, and 'ears the engine-room gong
soundin' down below and them engines, with a 'ollow grating sound like a
giant a-snoring, goes a'ead slow, and, though we can't see five feet in
front of us, I knows by the lapping of the water against our bows that
we are moving slowly in under those big guns ashore.
"If they've got search-lights ashore, they'll spot us and give it us
'ot," said one of the youngsters of my gun's crew, whispering like a
fool.
"When you're awsked for your opinion you just give it," says I, speaking
in my natural voice, which is rayther loud, and kicking 'im none too
gentle, for all this whispering rayther gives you the fair jumps.
We was a pretty chilly crowd up on the bridge, a-standing nervous-like
round the 12-pounder and staring a'ead into the darkness. Joe Smith
(the signalman) and Mr. Parker had their night-glasses jammed to their
eyes, and all of us egspected to feel the rocks a-crunching and grating
under our bows every minute. An' not a sound 'cept the grating row down
in the engine-room, which seemed to swallow everything else, and we
'ardly thought them Dagos of pirates could help 'earing of it if they
had their ears shipped on proper-like.
Then someone whispers, "'Ear that, Bill", and shortly we could 'ear the
booming of the swell breaking itself on the rocks; and Mr. Parker, 'e
turns to the engine-room telegraph and we stops our engines, and the
grating noise stopped all of a sudden and left us all more lonesome than
ever, till the moaning and roaring on the rocks a'ead of us got louder,
and seemed a jolly sight too close to be comfortable. The wind had
dropped by this 'ere time, and the long swell just slid under us and
rolled away into the night, as we listened for it to break itself with a
crash and a roar. It seemed not two 'undred yards hoff of us.
There was nothing to do, that was the worst of it. Mr. Parker orders us
all below, 'cept 'imself and the Sub-lootenant and the quarter-master,
whose watch it was, so I just made them all eat a bit of something we
'ad left over from our suppers, and we got some pickles and sardines out
o' the canteen, and felt better; but, bless you! we couldn't sleep, what
with the encitement and the noise of them breakers, which we could 'ear
even more loudly down below, for it seemed to come right up through her
bottom. We'd got a good deal of sea-water down below, too--took it in
when we were punching into those 'ead seas outside 'Ong-kong--and that
fo'c'stle mess-deck war'n't the most comfortable place that night; and,
as no one could catch a blessed wink of sleep, I just told the men to
light their pipes, which was mighty comforting, though, by the way,
'twas strictly agin' orders, an' I got a wiggin' from Mr. Parker
arfterwards for doing it.
Then I 'eard that there Cooky a-jawing to some of the youngsters about
"'oping they was all prepared to die sudden-like, if so it was necessary
and they got the call".
So I told 'im to let 'em go to sleep, and do 'is own dooty first and get
'em some 'ot ship's cocoa.
"'Ow can I make bricks without straw," said he, sad-like, and he had the
pull of me on that, for, in course, the galley fire had been drawn.
I had the middle watch that night, from midnight to four in the morning,
as you'd call it on shore, and nothing 'appened for the first two hours,
'cept that Mr. Parker and myself took it in turns to peer through the
night-glass towards where we knew the island was, and stamped up and
down to keep ourselves warm, for the night was most partickler cold, an'
once or twice we had to move the engines to keep her from getting too
close to them rocks.
Then the fun began. It was still as black as ink, you must remember,
and we was supposed to be lying just off the narrow channel which
zigzagged between the rocks into the big anchorage inside the island, we
being on one side and "No. 2" on the other, though we could not see her,
and could only guess she was there.
"If their torpedo-boats or destroyers do come out," said Mr. Parker,
"they could no more find the _Laird_ on a night like this than a needle
in a 'aystack, so we can do just what we like--follow 'em and try and
sink 'em in the dark, or wait till they come back in the morning and cut
'em off then."
Well, we was watching and blinking like owls through the glasses, when
suddenly, down by the water edge, out blinked two little white lights,
some distance apart they were, and steady as anything.
"They're lighting the channel," Mr. Parker said 'urriedly; "something
will be coming out directly. Get the men on deck."
They scrambled up in no time, and by the time I'd got back to the bridge
the engines were working us round with our bows pointing out to sea.
Mr. Parker was just chuckling to 'imself, "I've got a scheme, Jones, a
ripping scheme. If they do come out they sha'n't get back to-night," 'e
said.
Then 'e stopped talking, for, as we watched, something dark glided in
front of the farther light, and shut it out for 'alf a minute. Then it
shone again, and another dark thing shut it out, and so on till it
disappeared four times, and then it burnt brightly again.
"Four of them," muttered Mr. Parker, and 'is voice sounded like a
blooming earthquake, we was all so still and silent and excited.
It's no use telling me you can judge distances at night, for you can't,
and though we thought we'd been no more than a couple o' 'undred yards
from the beach, it must 'ave been nearer 'alf a mile, for we saw nothing
more for, may be, three or four minutes, when someone down on deck
hissed "Ah", and looking shorewards we saw some sparks come flying up.
You can't imagine what the excitement was like; all the worse becos' we
dursn't make a sound, and we could 'ear our 'earts a-thumping inside of
us.
Another minute an' we could 'ear the noise of their engines just gently,
slowly "'Ere we are, 'ere we are" they was a-saying, but getting more
flurried, and, all of a sudden, with a white splashing under her bows, a
long, black torpedo-boat just walked past us, and another and another
and a fourth, and were swallowed up to seaward, leaving nothing but some
oily smoke, which swept back into our faces.
They hadn't seen us, that seemed pretty certain, but "No. 2" had spotted
them, for on the other side of the channel we saw a torrent of sparks
flying up into the darkness, and knew she was going after them.
"Mr. Lang is after them, sir; shall we chase?" asked the Sub-lootenant.
But not a bit of it.
"Hard a-starboard, slow ahead starboard, half-speed astern port," were
Mr. Parker's orders, and we turned in again towards the little light at
the entrance.
I 'eard Mr. Parker say to the Sub-lootenant, "If you'd seen those lights
when I did, both of them shining up simultaneously, you'd feel pretty
sure that they must be electric and on the same circuit, too. They
probably have a cable running out to those outer rocks, and I want you
to take the whaler ashore with a 'destruction' party and try and cut the
cable or smash the lamps."
Then I understood what we were going to do, and if so be that we doused
their glim for them, those torpedo-boats could never get back till
daybreak, and we could make mincemeat of 'em.
Nothing seemed moving on shore, not another light could be seen, just
those two little lights down by the edge of the water.
The swell was going down fast, too, so we lowered the whaler, an' the
Sub chose the five strongest men on board to pull her, and that didn't
leave me on board, you may bet your bottom dollar, and we took a torpedo
instructor and grapnels and axes and shoved off in the dark, the swell
lifting us along towards them lights.
We lost sight of "No. 3" in a brace of shakes, the last thing I saw
being Mr. Glover a-looking sad and mournful for once, because Mr. Parker
wouldn't let 'im go with us.
Lonely, were we? Why, I never felt so blooming lonely in all my life;
not a sound but the oars creaking and the booming of the sea a'ead of
us.
"Oars! Hold water, men," whispered the Sub, an' we 'ad time to look
round, and there we were, right in between the two little twinkling
lights. They were electric, too, as Mr. Parker had guessed, an' they
was just light enough to make the rocks they was fixed to look darker
than the night itself, and with just a glimmer in the sea which boiled
up agin' them below.
There was no going near 'em to wind'ard, that was plain as a pikestaff,
and after we had a look at both, shoving our nose as close as we dared,
the Sub tried what we could do round the back of 'em, to leeward, where
the swell wouldn't trouble us so.
It might have been all right in daylight, but this was just the
horridest job as ever I took on.
We did get close in once, and the bowman, as plucky a little fellow as
was ever invented, got a hold on it with 'is boat-'ook, but swish swirl
came the swell, lifting us up and breaking an oar, and as we dropped
again and tried to keep the boat off he lost 'is 'old, for it was only
seaweed 'e'd 'ooked 'is boat-'ook in.
"Back hard, men, back hard!" came from the Sub, and we all backed as if
the devil was after us, and scraped our keel along another ugly piece of
rock, just being lifted over it and not stove in by the next swell that
came.
My! but that was a close squeak, I can tell you, and we didn't breathe
freely till we had backed out between the two lights once more.
We hadn't been there a minute before we 'eard firing, a long way out to
sea. "That's 'No. 2,'" the Sub said, "and we'll have to just be quick
about this job before she drives those torpedo-boats home again."
Then we tried edging in as close as we could and throwing a grapnel over
the rock, but that wouldn't 'old, nor could we get near the light with
it, and once or twice we were nearly stove in and pretty nearly swamped
by the end of it.
"It's no good, men," said the Sub-lootenant, when we'd backed out for
the last time; "I'm not going to run any more risk. We must try and get
hold of the cable running between these two rocks."
That meant that we 'ad to creep for it by dragging the grapnel along the
bottom between the two rocks, a mighty slow job at the best, and 'orrid
at night. There wasn't no 'elp for it, so we dropped the grapnel to the
bottom, with a good stout rope secured to it, and slowly backed the
whaler in between the two lights.
Every now and again it would catch something, and we'd get in a state of
'oly joy and 'aul at it, but, offener than not, it was only a piece of
seaweed, or it had just caught a rock--you could tell that by the sudden
way it gave. We went at it, 'auling the grapnel across where the cable
might be, then putting to sea and backing again, for mayhaps 'alf an
hour.
Rogers, the torpedo instructor, was 'andling the grapnel line, for the
Sub, he says to 'im, "You've had more experience 'unting for lost
torpedoes, so you take it, Rogers," which made us laugh, on the quiet,
as it 'it the little man rather 'ard, 'e being mighty sore about
anything going wrong with 'is torpedoes.
There was not a sound from shore, and not another light could we see.
Pretty eerie it was, with every now and again the noise of guns a-firing
out to sea, and we went backwards and forwards till we were well-nigh
sick of it, and every moment thought one or all of them torpedo-boats
would come dashing through, and probably cut us down.
Just as we were about to chuck up the business, Rogers sings out softly
that he'd got 'old of something, and sure enough, as another man clapped
on the grapnel rope, it came in with a steady pull, and Rogers, leaning
over, with his arm in up to the shoulder, as it comes to the surface,
says in a muffled voice, "I've got it, sir; right it is, sir."
We passed the grapnel aft. The Sub lashed a rope round the cable and
'auled it over the stern, Rogers coming gingerly stepping between us to
cut it in 'alf, and we could just see 'im raise 'is axe, down it came,
and out went both the lights.
We could do nothing but chuckle inwardly; we dursn't make a sound, and
it 'urt somewhat.
The Sub-lootenant 'ad got one end in his hand, and he hung on to it like
grim death, and hauled away till he'd got a couple of fathoms on board,
and Rogers cut this hoff, and we dropped the rest of it in the water.
"Back to 'No. 3'," sings out the Sub, and we pulls away as cheerily as
mud-larks, and then came the 'unt for her.
We'd got a signal lantern in the boat, and was just a-going to light it,
when the Sub-lootenant caught sight of her and 'ailed her softly.
We were aboard in a jiffy and 'oisted the whaler in again, everyone
a-patting us on the back.
They'd got some 'ot cocoa made down in the stokehold, too, and served us
out some all round, which we needed pretty bad.
There was more firing just about this time, and when we'd got on deck
again, after our 'ot cocoa, we were romping along in that direction.
But we weren't off to 'elp "No. 2", not by a long chalk, for Mr. Parker
or the Sub-lootenant, or both of them, gets another idea (real artistic,
too, I called it), and he stops, and we gets out the two collapsable
boats and the whaler, and we soon sees what 'is little game is, for he
lashes a lantern in each of the small boats and sends the Sub inshore
again. We were still, you see, quite close to the rocks, but 'alf a
mile farther along.
"Take some fire-bars to moor them with, and leave them as close in as
you can," he told the Sub. "Light the lanterns, and come back as fast
as you can."
My! wasn't that a pretty little game? and weren't those torpedo-boats
a-going to get a sur-prise?
It took pretty near a 'alf-'our to do this, and every now and agin we
could 'ear shots--sometimes closer and sometimes seemingly farther off;
but at last the lamps shone out, and though they did look a trifle
unsteady in the swell, still they was good enough to deceive them
Chinese.
When the Sub had got back we went off to where we'd heard the firing.
It was getting less dark now, and a few stars were coming out, and in a
few minutes a long dark thing, with flames sputtering from the funnels,
went flying past us--one of the Chinamen a-going 'ome--and another
followed her, and we just laid low and let them go, chuckling to
ourselves and thinking of the trap we'd laid for 'em.
"No. 2" had got hold of something now with a vengeance, for she was
firing pretty fast, and, as we hurried over to her, we could see the
flames of her guns and sometimes the flash of a busting shell; coming
towards us too, she was.
We got our search-light cleared away, and when we were quite close we
found "No. 2" a-hanging on to a poor unfortunate torpedo-boat and
banging away at it; so we just slewed round her stern and turned our
light on the wretched thing--an old torpedo-boat just struggling along
at about twelve knots--to make it a respectable target.
That just did the trick, for she got hit by one of "No. 2's"
12-pounders, in the boiler most likely, and seemed just to double up,
open out amidships, and go slithering under.
[Illustration: THE SINKING OF THE PIRATE TORPEDO-BOAT.]
Poor wretches! an' we 'adn't the 'eart to cheer; 'twas so one-sided a
show.
We stopped and tried to pick up some of her men, and did save a couple
of Chinamen, more dead than alive with fright. They turned out jolly
useful, as you shall 'ear afterwards.
"No. 2" hadn't seen the fourth boat, so we pushed on back to the
entrance to look for her in case she tried to get in. The two lights we
had left were still burning, but we couldn't see what had become of the
two torpedo-boats which had passed us.
The people on shore must a 'eard that torpedo-boat blow up, for now a
couple of search-lights shot out from somewhere high up on the cliff
near the entrance, and began hunting round to see what all the fuss was
about.
It just happened that where we'd moored the boats was a bit round the
corner and out of sight of them searchlights, so we stayed abreast of
them and watched the two beams a-travelling from side to side, and
presently saw the missing torpedo-boat coming sneaking in. She must
have gone right around the island.
Mr. Lang rushed out from behind our safe corner, and tried to wing her
afore she could get into safety, and we followed 'im and tried a few
long shots from the 12-pounder; but even I couldn't 'it anything under
them conditions, especially as they glared their search-lights in our
faces and commenced firing pretty briskly at us with small guns from the
shore.
So we goes back round our corner, more quickly than we came out, and
whilst we were turning they 'it us once or twice, smashing our whaler,
and a splinter of shell or wood knocked over poor Rogers, who was
standing by. We thought 'e was only stunned, but 'e was dead as a
door-nail, and it 'urt us to think we'd chaffed 'im so unmerciful, and
we covered 'im up and put 'im down below.
We waited about till it was light enough to see what 'ad 'appened with
our little trap, and then went close inshore again.
Well, there was a 'orrid sight, or joyful sight, whichever way you takes
it, for them two torpedo-boats were piled up against the rocks all
battered to pieces, one in 'alf and the other bottom up, a-smashing up
agin the bottom of the cliff. There wasn't a soul to be seen; and it
was well-nigh hopeless, for the cliffs rose straight up from the sea,
and no monkey could 'ave climbed them, let alone a Chinaman, so we knew
they must have all been drowned. Poor old Rogers would have a lot of
them heathen to keep him company.
The two lanterns we'd left in the boats were still burning as innercent
as you like, looking yellow in the hazy light of morning.
*CHAPTER XV*
*Mr. Midshipman Glover Tells how he was Wounded*