*CHAPTER XXII*
*The Final Attack on the Hill*
We Defend the Gun--Hunter to the Rescue--Hopkins Again--A
Confession--Hopkins's Will--Hopkins Makes a Request--Back to the
"Laird"--Helston Acts--I am Sent Below
_Mr. Midshipman Glover's Narrative continued_
As I ran I heard both our Maxims pumping out lead with their horrid
noises, and Mr. Saunderson's voice steadying his marines as they fired
point-blank down the hill. Sergeant Haig's men slewed round to their
left and fired sideways into the howling mob, and Captain Williams
behind me was trying to stop the Chinamen's Maxim. The noise was
awful--the noise of Martinis, Mausers, Maxims, and the screaming
Chinese.
"Tell Mr. Gibbins to keep his men inside the gun-pit till they are
wanted," roared Captain Hunter, as he looked at his revolver to see that
it was loaded, and "Stay there till he leaves it," added the Commander
quite fiercely.
Hardly had I given the message to Mr. Gibbins, whose men had already
seized their rifles, before the marines began rising on their knees,
some of them fixing their bayonets. I knew what that meant, and must
confess that I was horribly frightened, and felt jolly thankful to get
to the lee side of that big gun and behind the parapet. With my head
over the sand-bags, I could see all that was going on.
Mr. Saunderson fell forward, but scrambled to his knees again, looking
very white in the face. A marine near the Commander sprang right in the
air with an unearthly yell and collapsed in a heap. A second later
hundreds of pale, tawny faces, with little pig eyes, showed up over the
crest, and one or two of the marines came crawling back to the gun-pit
for shelter. I saw Captain Hunter lift the second off the ground and
almost throw him back to his place.
They were all on their feet now, firing without putting rifle to
shoulder. Chinese went down like nine-pins, but hundreds took their
places; a crowd of them were right up to the breast-work, just to the
right of the centre Maxim, hitting out with rifles, prodding with
bayonets, and slashing with old naval cutlasses. The marines clubbed
their rifles, fighting like tigers, man after man dropped down, and a
howling mass broke through, pushing Saunderson's marines on one side by
sheer weight of numbers, and came streaming across towards the gun.
I saw the dapper little Subaltern from the _Strong Arm_ rushing across
with his men from the breast-work overlooking the sea, but they were
thrown back like corks in front of a wave, and now the yelling mob was
right up to the sand-bag parapet. I had drawn my revolver unconsciously
as they came rushing across, and I seemed to become quite cool.
"Now's your time, boys," shouted Mr. Gibbins to the twenty blue-jackets
he had inside the gun-pit. "Fire downwards or you'll hit our own men."
He leaped on top of the parapet, and, as the first Chinaman tried to
scramble over, struck him a blow on the head which knocked him headlong,
and then began coolly and deliberately firing his revolver into the
seething mass below him.
The whole top of the hill seemed covered with Chinamen, a seething,
struggling, yelling mass, with a fringe of marines at the edge, the
butt-ends of their rifles, swinging round and round, coming down with
sickening thuds on those shaven heads.
Here and there among them, two or three marines, back to back, were
clearing a circle round them, and across to the left I could see Captain
Hunter cleaving them in front of him.
They were all round us now, clambering over the parapet or pulling down
the sand-bags, and though they fell, shot at the muzzles of the
blue-jackets' rifles or bayoneted through the body, more filled their
places, and tore the sand-bags down like wild cats.
One had half wriggled himself over in front of me--my pistol went off,
and he sank down out of sight. Another climbed over him, and I found
myself on top of the parapet, though I cannot remember getting there. I
fired again, and he too fell, clinging to my legs. I staggered forward,
and should have been dragged down among them, but a blue-jacket on my
left ran him through with his bayonet, and with a gurgle he let go my
legs and slid down.
"Keep farther back, sir," the blue-jacket muttered hoarsely, and jumped
across to drive back three more who were nearly over. With a terrible
kick of his iron-shod boot he caught one full in the face, but another
gripped his leg, the third his rifle, and, before anyone could move, had
hauled him headlong to the ground. As he disappeared among them they
closed round him with a yell.
I felt a burning red feeling in my head and eyes, and, like a fool,
jumped after him, fired my last four cartridges right into them, and
began hitting out with my fist and the empty revolver.
Somebody caught me by the wrist, but I wrenched myself free; somehow or
other the pressure in front of me became less. I found myself standing
over the blue-jacket, with my back to the parapet, with only three or
four Chinese in front of me, prodding at me with boarding-pikes and old
cutlasses; but, strangely enough, it struck me even then that they were
not trying to kill me. I discovered that I had an axe in my hand--how
it got there I don't know--and was waving it round and round. The
Maxims--our Maxims, by the noise they made--started again, and men were
cheering all round me. Chinese came sweeping back past the sides of the
gun-pit and brushing against me, and those in front seemed to melt away.
It was just like a wave that had swept up a sea-shore, surged against a
rock, flung itself all round it, and then, with its force spent, slid
back to the sea.
Suddenly I was seized by the collar from behind and swung off the
ground. I struggled, I bit, I hit out with what strength I had, but the
axe was torn from my hand, my feet were swept from beneath me, and
before I could even yell for help I was rushed across the plateau, over
the breast-works, and down the side of the hill in the midst of the
Chinese.
Just as we got below the edge, one of the men who had hold of me fell
with a shriek.
I kicked myself free (he was dead), but two more pounced on me, threw me
to the ground, lifted me up, struggling like a cat, and bore me down
again.
I was half choked with the smoke of the burning bushes as they rushed
through them, and a hundred yards below they stopped, threw me face
downwards on the grass, forced my hands together behind my back, tied
them there, and then two of the hulking cowards sat on me.
I didn't think--I didn't feel any pain; my brain seemed absolutely
frozen, for, just as that brute had fallen and I had kicked myself free,
I saw something which I shall never forget for the rest of my life.
Captain Hunter had seen me and, head and shoulders above the retreating
Chinamen, had plunged down through them, roaring to his men to follow.
From the bushes below the great black-bearded man suddenly rose up.
With curses and blows he rallied his men, and they turned and faced
upwards. Down came Captain Hunter through a mob of them, cutting his
way to me. He had a long-handled axe in his hand. Circling it round
and round his head, striking to left and right, he was carving a way
through them, and they gave way and fled helter-skelter, to leave him
confronted by the huge European. I saw Captain Hunter's face light up
with a fierce joy, and he raised his axe for a mighty stroke; but the
European fired his revolver point-blank, the axe dropped from his hand,
his arms sank to his side, he stared stupidly in front of him, the
revolver cracked again, and, with a sob, I saw Captain Hunter disappear
beneath a howling mass of Chinamen, who turned again with a yell of
triumph. But by this time his marines had poured over the breast-work
and flung themselves in front of his body, and that was the last I saw
of that awful hilltop--the little knot of marines fighting slowly
backwards towards their breast-work, and carrying Captain Hunter with
them. I cared for nothing then. I did not even mind those brutes
sitting on me.
Chinese came flying past, some shrieking with fright, others screaming
with pain. One or two, when they saw me, tried to spring at me; but the
two men drove them off, then lifted me up like a doll and carried me
farther away, covering me with a Chinaman's tunic to prevent me from
being recognized. They stripped it from a native lying wounded and
dying in the bushes.
The noise of firing recommenced above me, and some bullets came
crackling through the bushes (our bullets), and I almost wished that one
would kill me.
Chinese yells burst out again in the direction of the Bush Hill. They
were answered by defiant cheers, one of our Maxims began to rattle, then
a burst of Mauser firing drowned every other sound, the noise of
fighting dwindled away, a solitary shout, a piercing scream, the Maxim
ceased, and all was still once more. I could not tell whether that
attack had been repulsed or whether it had swept across the hill, and
felt that I only wanted to die.
My captors--three great lusty sailors--hurried me downhill, and
presently they came to the cultivated plots above the town, and across
these they went at a run, avoiding parties of coolies hurrying up the
hill and armed with strange, old-fashioned weapons.
I saw that they were making for a small, white-painted bungalow under
some trees, and presently they reached it and flung me down in an
out-house among a lot of firewood and coal, tied my legs together and
slammed the door, bolted it from the outside, and left me in darkness.
How long I remained there I do not know, but now I felt a stabbing pain
in my chest whenever I tried to wriggle into a less painful position,
and another in my leg close to where I had been wounded before.
I began to wonder what they were going to do with me, and whether I
should be tortured--for we had all dreaded falling alive into their
hands--but I don't think that I really cared what happened.
The door flew open, two of the sailors came in, caught me up, and
carried me out across a garden and through a verandah with long cane
chairs under it. Here a native servant led them inside the bungalow, a
bamboo curtain was pushed aside, and they sat me down on a mat on the
floor.
Lying on a little trestle-bed in one corner was a man groaning in his
sleep. The native servant bent over the bed, touched him on the
shoulder, and he woke with a start and raised his head.
It was Hopkins, his eyes glittering strangely, and his face all drawn
with pain.
"Thank God! you are safe, Glover," he cried, and made them unfasten my
legs and arms. When I was free once more he ordered the men out of the
room, but they refused to go, talking excitedly.
"Guess they want their re-ward," he drawled, and asked me to open a
heavy cash-box at his side. He fumbled at his neck and found the key.
"Tally up a couple of hundred dollars' worth of bills," he asked me,
"and sling them at those scoundrels."
It was a funny thing for me to be counting out the sum to be paid for my
own capture and handing it over to those brutes, but I did it
automatically. I really did not feel, or hear, or see anything quite as
if I were awake; and when I read over what I have written, it seems so
jerky and disconnected, that I have often tried to make it read more
smoothly, but then I don't think it would give you quite the impression
it still gives me. Incidents just seemed to happen; they did not seem
to have any connection, but went on, one after another, till I woke up
standing over Hopkins's cash-box and paying those ugly brutes.
I ought to have hated and loathed Hopkins, but somehow or other I
didn't--none of us did, I fancy--and remembering, as if it were in a
dream I had just wakened from, the gallant way he had led that charge, I
felt awfully sorry for him, and forgot that, but for him and his
partners, Captain Hunter would not be lying dead on that hill above me,
nor many others--how many, I dare not think.
"Captain Hunter is killed. That brute with the black beard shot him," I
blurted out; and it may seem funny to you, but I knew that he would be
just as sorry as I was. His face twitched. "That is Schmidt," he said.
"He died trying to rescue me," I said, and something seemed to stick in
my throat. I could not keep it back, and threw myself on the floor and
sobbed and sobbed till tears came.
Even now I don't feel in the least ashamed of myself, and I know that I
was absolutely too played out to mind then.
"I'm sorry, Glover, I'm mighty sorry, but it would have been up against
you if he had hauled you back."
He said it so seriously, that a faint idea of what he meant flashed
through my mind, and I remembered the second attack which I had listened
to whilst I was being carried down the hill, and the endless stream of
coolies pouring up the hill.
"Why?" I gasped.
"Come here," he said, stretching out his hand and drawing me gently to
him. "Guess there ain't no blood on it 'cept my own," he added
bitterly, as I half drew back. "You and your chum, young Foote, were
the last to shake that hand, youngster, and you wouldn't have seen me
again an' been still jumping around but for that and one thing besides."
I remembered then that Toddles and I had shaken hands with him when he
had been exchanged for Ping Sang.
"I reckon that if somebody hadn't just sloshed around and coralled a few
of these heathen, and sent 'em up to bring you down at a hundred-dollar
bill a head, you'd be getting about stiff by now. If that whole outfit
up top there ain't wiped out by sundown, we've got a couple o' thousand
who'll eat what's left after dark."
He was so earnest, and so evidently believed what he said, that his
words made me feel cold with horror.
He saw my dismay and said: "I reckon, though, that this combine is just
about busted. We shall just have to quit.
"Those rotten ships ain't no more use for fighting than--than--than I
am," he finished, and caught his breath as some pain seemed to grip him.
He went on in a minute.
"See here, youngster, I'm shot clean through the stomach. I reckon I
might pull through if it had been a slate-pencil of a Mauser bullet, but
it was a Martini bullet, and I've got just two more rounds of the sun
and then I pass in my checks. I had seen you on top of that hill
sticking to little Cummins like a 'possum, and when I got downed I
guessed that I'd fish you out to do something particular for me."
"The Commander wouldn't let me stick to him if he could help it," I
said. "He was afraid of my being shot, for he knew that he was being
fired at."
Hopkins smiled. "Guess he didn't calculate that I stopped 'em potting
at him when you were in his vicinity. I'll show you why."
He put his arm under his pillow and drew out a photograph, looking at it
with strange eyes, and handed it to me. "Guess that's the reason."
It was a photograph of Milly, and just like the one Mr. Pattison had.
"How did you know Milly?" I cried, tremendously surprised.
"Helston introduced me one day in London. I met her several times, put
the old man" (the Admiral) "on to a good thing in oil shares, got an
invite to his place at Fareham for a couple of days,
and--and--and--well, Glover, your cousin simply knocked me over, and"
(the colour rising under his tanned face) "I asked her to be my wife."
"You did?" I asked, simply astounded. (Fancy old Milly marrying a
pirate!)
"Yes, I reckon I did," he answered quietly, his face twitching again;
"and I reckon I meant it, and meant it for all time."
"Did she----?" I began.
"She did not say 'No'," he replied, speaking reverently. "She said that
she would give me my answer when I came back."
"But how could you----?" I began, and could have bitten my tongue off.
He knew well enough what I meant, and his face paled and became
fearfully hard and rigid.
"If she had promised to be my wife, Glover, I would have thrown up this
cursed job, though I reckon they might have hunted me down in time and
got a knife into me later. As it was, I had to go through with the
show. I had sworn to back up my pals, but calculated my job might about
end when I'd delayed Helston and brought out those beastly destroyers.
"Youngster, we three--Hamilton, Schmidt, and myself--have looked death
face to face together a hundred times, and, wife or no wife, a white man
could not throw up the cards and back out of the game when his chums
were cornered.
"I could have quitted any night this last fortnight, skedaddled out in a
junk, but, well, I didn't, and here I am now, with a hole in my stomach,
waiting to be planted."