The nautical proverb saith that "A stern chase is a long one;" but that
proverb, to make it perfect and universally applicable, should have been
prefaced by the words "All things being equal."
In the present case all things were not equal. The gun-boat was a fast
steamer; the chase was a slow row-boat, insufficiently manned by tired
and wounded men. But many of them were desperate men. Their leader was
an arch-fiend of resolution and ferocity. He knew that escape, in the
circumstances, was impossible. He was well aware of the fate that
awaited him if taken. He therefore made up his mind to give his enemies
as much trouble as possible, to delay their triumph and cause it to cost
them dear, and, in every practicable way that might occur, to thwart and
worry them to the end.
Animated by such a spirit, he managed to encourage his men, and to
terrify and lash his slaves to almost superhuman exertions, so that
before being overtaken they approached considerably nearer to the shore
than would otherwise have been the case. This, as it afterwards turned
out, resulted in a benefit to some of those in the gun-boat, which they
did not think of at the time. As they overtook the prow, Pungarin
ordered the starboard rowers to cease. Those on the port side continued
to pull, and in a few seconds the prow's broadside was brought to bear
on the approaching enemy. Not till they were within a hundred yards did
the pirate leader again speak. Then his powerful voice resounded
through his vessel:--
"Fire!"
At the word every piece on board the prow, great and small, belched
forth a volume of smoke, flame, and metal, but the result was trifling.
In his anxiety to do deadly execution, the pirate had overdone his work.
He had allowed his foe to come too close, and most of the discharge
from the heavy guns passed over her, while the men with small arms,
rendered nervous by prolonged delay, fired hastily, and, therefore,
badly. A few wounds were suffered, and many narrow escapes were made,
but in other respects the discharge passed by harmlessly. The captain,
in his exposed and elevated position on the bridge, felt, indeed, as if
a thunder-shower of iron hail had passed, not only round, but through
him! He paid no regard to it, however, but held straight on. Next
moment there was a dire collision; the prow went under water, and the
surface of the sea was covered with shouting and struggling men.
The boats were quickly lowered, as on the previous occasion, and most of
the people were rescued, though, of course, some who could not swim were
drowned.
The scene that now ensued was very exciting, and in some respects very
terrible, for, besides the gurgling cries of the perishing, there were
the defiant yells of the pirates, who, more fiercely than those in the
other prows, resisted being taken alive, and used their creases and
knives with deadly effect.
This naturally filled the conquerors with such indignation that in many
cases they killed the pirates who showed fight, instead of disarming and
capturing them.
At last every one in the water was either saved, killed, drowned, or
captured, with the exception of one man, whose red jacket clearly
pointed him out as the pirate-chief. Being greatly superior to his
fellows in mental and physical powers, it was natural that he should
excel them in his efforts to escape. Even after the whole affair was
over, this man, who might have been a hero in other circumstances,
continued to baffle his pursuers.
In the boat which finally captured him was the Singapore man already
mentioned. This man, for reasons best known to himself, had a bitter
hatred of Pungarin, and was the chief cause of the boat in which he
pulled an oar being kept in close pursuit of the pirate-chief.
"Dis way," he cried, when the general _melee_ was drawing to a close.
"Yonder is de red-coat. He make for de shore."
The steersman at once turned in the direction indicated, which brought
them close to the gun-boat.
Pungarin's keen eye quickly observed that they were making towards him,
although the water around him swarmed with other men. He at once dived
and came up close to the side of the vessel, under its quarter, and in
dangerous proximity to its screw. The boldness of the course might have
diverted attention from him for a time, but his one touch of vanity--the
red jacket--betrayed him. He was soon observed. A cry was given. His
sharp-eyed enemy the Singapore man saw him, and the boat was once more
pulled towards its mark. But Pungarin dived like an otter--not only
under the boat, but under the steamer also; coming up on the other side,
and resting while they sought for him. Again they discovered him.
Again he passed under the ship's bottom, and this time continued his
dive onwards towards the shore. When his power of remaining under water
failed, he came gently to the surface, turning on his back, so that only
his mouth and nose appeared.
One full breath sufficed, and he dived again without having been
observed. If Pungarin had adopted this plan while the boats were busy
capturing his comrades, it is possible that he might have escaped, for
his swimming powers and endurance were very great; but it was now too
late. When he rose the second time to the surface, the affair was over,
and men's minds were free to fix entirely on himself. Just then, too,
he thought it advisable to put his head fully out of the water in order
to see that he had kept in the right direction.
He was instantly observed by his Singapore enemy, and the chase was
resumed.
It is almost unnecessary to say that it terminated unfavourably for the
pirate-chief. For several minutes he continued to dive under the boat
while they tried to seize him, and wounded some of the men nearest to
him; but his Herculean powers began at last to fail, and he finally
floated on the surface as if helpless.
Even this was a ruse, for no sooner was the boat near enough, and the
Singapore man within reach of his arm, than he raised himself, and made
a cut at that individual with such good will that he split his skull
across down nearly to the ears.
Next moment he was hauled into the boat and bound hand and foot.
The scene on board the gun-boat now was a very terrible one. Every man
there was more or less begrimed with powder and smoke, or bespattered
with blood and soaked with water, while all round the decks the wounded
were sitting or lying awaiting their turn of being attended to, and
groaning more or less with pain.
On calling the roll after the action was over, it was found that the
loss suffered by the gun-boat crew was two men killed and eighteen
wounded--a very small number considering the time during which the
affair had lasted, and the vigour with which the pirates had fought.
And now was beautifully exemplified the advantage of a man possessing a
"little knowledge"--falsely styled "a dangerous thing"--over a man who
possesses _no_ knowledge. Now, also, was exhibited the power and
courage that are latent in true womanhood.
There was no surgeon on board of that gun-boat, and, with the exception
of Edgar Berrington, there was not a man possessed of a single scrap of
surgical knowledge deeper than that required for the binding up of a cut
finger.
As we have already shown, our hero had an inquiring mind. While at
college he had become intimately acquainted with, and interested in, one
or two medical students, with whom he conversed so much and so
frequently about their studies, that he became quite familiar with
these, and with their medical and surgical phraseology, so that people
frequently mistook him for a student of medicine. Being gifted with a
mechanical turn of mind, he talked with special interest on surgery;
discussed difficulties, propounded theories, and visited the hospitals,
the dissecting-rooms, and the operating-theatres frequently. Thus he
came, unintentionally, to possess a considerable amount of surgical
knowledge, and when, at last, he was thrown providentially into a
position where no trained man could be found, and urgent need for one
existed, he came forward and did his best like a man.
Aileen Hazlit also, on being told that there was need of a woman's
tender hand in such work, at once overcame her natural repugnance to
scenes of blood; she proceeded on deck, and, with a beating heart but
steady hand, went to work like a trained disciple of Florence
Nightingale.
To the credit of the timid, and for the encouragement of the weak, we
have to add that Miss Pritty likewise became a true heroine!
No average individual, male or female, can by any effort of imagination
attain to the faintest idea of poor Miss Pritty's horror at the sight of
"_blood_!"--"_human gore_!" particularly. Nevertheless Miss Pritty,
encouraged by her friend's example, rose to the occasion. With a face
and lips so deadly pale that one might have been justified in believing
that all the blood on the decks had flowed therefrom, she went about
among the wounded, assisting Aileen in every possible way with her eyes
shut. She did indeed open them when it was absolutely necessary to do
so, but shut them again instantly on the necessity for vision passing
away. She cut short bandages when directed so to do; she held threads
or tapes; she tore up shirts, and slips, and other linen garments, with
the most reckless disregard of propriety; she wiped away blood from
wounds (under direction), and moistened many dry lips with a sponge, and
brushed beads of perspiration from pale brows--like a heroine.
Meanwhile Edgar went about actively, rejoicing in his new-found capacity
to alleviate human suffering. What the Faculty would have thought of
him we know not. All on board the gun-boat venerated him as a most
perfect surgeon. His natural neatness of hand stood him in good stead,
for men were bleeding to death all round him, and in order to save some
it was necessary that he should use despatch with others. Of course he
attended to the most critical cases first, except in the case of those
who were so hopelessly injured as to be obviously beyond the reach of
benefit from man. From these he turned sadly away, after whispering to
them an earnest word or two about the Saviour of mankind--to those of
them at least who understood English. To waste time with these he felt
would be to rob hopeful cases of a chance. All simple and easy cases of
bandaging he left to the captain and his chief officer. Joe Baldwin,
being a cool steady man, was appointed to act as his own assistant.
From one to another he passed unweariedly, cutting off portions of torn
flesh, extracting bullets, setting broken bones, taking up and tying
severed arteries, sewing together the edges of gaping wounds, and
completing the amputation of limbs, in regard to which the operation had
been begun--sometimes nearly finished--by cannon shot.
"How terribly some of the poor wretches have been starved!" muttered
Edgar as he bent over one of the captives, attempting to draw together
the edges of a sword-cut in his arm; "why, there is not enough of flesh
on him to cover his wound."
"There an't much, sir," assented Joe Baldwin, in a sympathetic tone, as
he stood close by holding the needle and thread in readiness. "There's
one man for'ard, sir, that I saw in passing to the chest for this
thread, that has scarcely as much flesh on him as would bait a rat-trap.
But he seems quite contented, poor fellow, at bein' freed from slavery,
and don't seem to mind much the want o' flesh and blood. Perhaps he
counts on gettin' these back again."
"Hm! These are not so easily regained when lost as you seem to imagine,
my friend," exclaimed a pompous but rather weak voice. Joe looked up.
It was Mr Hazlit, whose bloodless countenance and shrunken condition
had become more apparent than ever after he had been enabled to reclothe
himself in the garments of civilisation.
"Why, sir," said Joe, gently, "you seem to have bin badly shaken. Not
bin wounded, I hope, sir?"
"No,--at least not in body," replied the merchant, with a faint smile
and shake of the head; "but I've been sadly bruised and broken in
spirit."
Joe, remembering somewhat of Mr Hazlit's former state of spirit, had
almost congratulated him on the beneficial change before it occurred
that his meaning in doing so might have been misunderstood. He
therefore coughed slightly and said, "Ah--indeed!"
"Yes, indeed, my man," returned the merchant; "but I have reason to be
supremely thankful that I am here now in _any_ condition of mind and
body worthy of being recognised."
As the amateur surgeon here desired Joe to assist him in moving his
patient a little, Mr Hazlit turned away, in a stooping attitude because
of weakness, and, with his vest flapping against the place where his
chief development had once been, shuffled slowly towards the
quarter-deck.
It was at this time that the boat which captured Pungarin came
alongside, and there was a general movement of curiosity towards the
gangway as he was passed on board.
The hands of the pirate-chief were tied behind his back, but otherwise
he was free, the cords that had bound his legs having been cast loose.
A howl of execration burst from the captives when they saw him, and
several ran forward with the evident intention of spitting on him, but
these were promptly checked by the sailors.
Pungarin drew himself up and stood calmly, but not defiantly, as if
waiting orders. There was no expression on his bold countenance save
that of stern indifference for the crowd around him, over whose heads he
gazed quietly out to sea. His brow remained as unflushed and his
breathing as gentle as though his struggles for life had occurred weeks
ago, though the wet garments and the ragged red jacket told eloquently
of the share he had taken in the recent fight.
"Take him below and put him in irons," said the captain.
"Please, sir," remarked the man whose duty it was to secure the
prisoners, "we've got no more irons on board. We had only thirty pair,
and there's now thirty-eight prisoners in the hold."
"Secure him with ropes, then," returned the captain;--"where is Mr
Berrington?" he added, looking round hurriedly.
"For'ard, sir, lookin' after the wounded," answered a sailor.
While the pirate-chief was led below, the captain walked quickly to the
place where Edgar was busy.
"Can you spare a minute?" he asked.
"Not easily," said Edgar, who had just finished the dressing with which
we left him engaged; "there are several here who require prompt
attention; but of course if the case is urgent--"
"It _is_ urgent: come and see."
Without a word our amateur surgeon rose and walked after the captain,
who led him to the companion-hatch, leaning against which he found the
Singapore man, with his head split across and apparently cut down nearly
from ear to ear. From this awful wound two small spouts of blood, about
the thickness of a coarse thread, rose a foot and a half into the air.
We use no exaggeration, reader, in describing this. We almost quote
verbatim the words of a most trustworthy eye-witness from whose lips we
received the account.
The man looked anxiously at Edgar, who turned at once to the captain and
said in an undertone, but hurriedly, "I can be of no use here. It is
quite impossible that he can live. To attempt anything would really be
taking up time that is of vast importance to more hopeful cases."
"Sir, do try," faltered the poor man in English.
"Ha! You speak English?" said Edgar, turning quickly towards him;
"forgive me, my poor fellow, I did not know that you understood--"
"Yis, me speak Engleesh. Me Singapore man. Go for vist me friends
here. Cotch by pirits. Do try, doctir."
While he was speaking Edgar quickly took off the man's necktie and bound
it round his head; then, using a little piece of wood as a lever, he
passed it through the tie and twisted it until the two sides of the
gaping gash were brought together, which operation stopped the bleeding
at once. This done he hastily left him; but it will interest the reader
to know that this Singapore man actually recovered from his terrible
wound after a month of hospital treatment. He was afterwards taken over
to Singapore as a natural curiosity, and exhibited there to several
doctors who had refused to believe the story. For aught we know to the
contrary, the man may be alive and well at the present day. Certain it
is that his cure at that time was complete. [Note. We were told this
fact by a trustworthy eye-witness.]
It was evening before all the wounds were dressed, and it was dark night
ere the disorder caused by the action and its consequences were removed,
and the gun-boat restored to somewhat of its wonted tidiness and
appearance of comfort. But there was little comfort on board during the
silence of that long night, which seemed to many as though it would
never end; and which, in the case of a few, ended in Eternity.
Although silence began to descend on all, sleep was not there.
Excitement, fatigue, and the awful scenes they had witnessed, drove it
from the pillows of Aileen and her friend. Frequent calls for the aid
of the surgeon put anything like refreshing rest--much though he
required it--quite out of the question, and at whatever hour of the
night or early morning he entered the temporary hospital where the
sufferers lay, he was sure to be met by the white flash of the many eyes
in haggard swart faces that turned eagerly and expectantly towards him--
proving that sleep had little or no influence there.
There was less of this want of repose, strange to say, in another part
of the vessel.
Down in the dark hold, where one feeble lamp cast a mere apology for
light on the wretched surroundings, many of the pirates slept soundly.
Their days were numbered--each one knew that full well--yet they slept.
Their hearts ought to have been fall of dark forebodings, but they
slumbered--some of them with the profound quietude of infants! One
might wonder at this were it not a familiar fact. This condition of
"the wicked" has been observed in every age, and is stated in holy writ.
But _all_ were not asleep in that dismal prison-house. There were among
them, it seemed, a few who were troubled with fears--perhaps some who
had consciences not yet utterly seared. At all events, two or three of
them moved uneasily as they sat huddled together, for there was little
room for so many in such a confined space, and now and then a bursting
sigh escaped. But such evidences of weakness, if such it may be called,
were few. For the most part silence reigned. In mercy the captain had
ordered a chink of the hatch to be left open, and through this the stars
shone down into the dark chamber.
Looking up at these, in statue-like silence, sat the pirate-chief. No
one had spoken to him, and he had spoken to none since his entry there.
Sleep did not visit _his_ eyes, nor rest his heart, yet he sat perfectly
still, hour after hour. Perchance he experienced the rest resulting
from an iron will that abides its approaching time for action.
The tending of the wounded, the cleansing of the ship, the feeding of
survivors, the shutting up and arranging for the night, had passed
away--even the groaning of sufferers had dwindled down to its lowest
ebb--long before Pungarin moved with the intent to carry out his
purpose.
The night-watch had been set and changed; the guard over the prisoners
had been relieved; the man in charge of them had gone his rounds and
examined their fetters; the careful captain had himself inspected
them,--all was perfectly quiet and deemed safe, when Pungarin at last
moved, and gave vent to one deep prolonged sigh that seemed to be the
opening of the escape-valve of his heart, and the out-rush of its
long-pent-up emotions.
Slowly, but persistently, he began to struggle, and in the darkness of
the place it seemed to those of his comrades who observed him as if he
were writhing like a snake. But little did his fellow-pirates heed.
Their hearts had long ago ceased to be impressible by horrid fancies.
They could not help but see what went on before their eyes--it did not
require an effort to help caring!
We have already said that some of the prisoners had been bound with
ropes for want of irons. Pungarin was among the number, and his almost
superhuman efforts were directed to freeing himself from his rope,
either by tearing his limbs out of it, or by snapping it asunder. In
both attempts he failed. Sailors are, of all men, least likely to tie a
knot badly, or to select a rope too weak for its purpose. The pirate at
length made this discovery, and sank down exhausted. But he rose again
ere long.
Those of the prisoners who had been secured by ropes were fastened to a
beam overhead. The place was very low. None of them could have stood
erect under this beam. While endeavouring to free himself, Pungarin had
struggled on his knees. He now raised himself as high as possible on
his knees. His hands, although tied in front of him, could be raised to
his head. He quickly made a loop on the rope and passed it over his
head.
Just then the guard removed the hatchway, and descended to make the last
inspection for the night. Pungarin hastily removed the rope, sank down
and lay quite still as if in slumber.
Night passed slowly on. The morning-star arose. The sun soon chased
away the shadows, and brought joy to the awaking world. It even brought
some degree of comfort to the comfortless on board the gun-boat. The
sleepers began to rouse themselves, the wounded to move and relieve
themselves, if possible, by change of position. The cook set about his
preparations for the morning meal, and the captain, who, being
dangerously close to shore, had taken no rest whatever during the night,
gave up the charge of his vessel to the first officer, and went below to
seek that repose which he had so well earned.
Ere he had closed an eye, however, his attention, was arrested by a cry,
and by a peculiar noise of voices on deck. There are tones in the human
voice which need no verbal explanation to tell us that they mean
something serious. He jumped up and sprang on deck. As if by instinct
he went towards the hatchway leading to the hold.
"He's dead, sir!" were the first words that greeted him.
A glance into the hold was enough to explain.
The pirate-chief had hanged himself. With difficulty, but with
inflexible resolution, he had accomplished his purpose by fastening the
rope round his neck and lifting his legs off the ground, so that he was
actually found suspended in a sitting posture.
His comrades in guilt, little impressed, apparently, by his fate, sat or
reclined around his body in callous indifference.