Chapter 32 | A Startling | Blue Jackets

Chapter Thirty Two.

“What are we going to do?” I said, with my heart beating fast.

“Afraid?” said Mr Brooke in a whisper.

“I don’t know, sir—a little,” I replied.

“We’re not going to fight, Herrick. I shall go on and find the junks so as to know them again—take their portraits in our minds—and then go back for help. They can’t escape out of the river, and once we know them, our boats can soon follow and bring them to book.”

The men pulled as if their hearts were in their work, and upon rounding a bend, there, about a quarter of a mile away, lay two large vessels, moored close up to the trees.

“We’ll keep up the idea that we are shooting,” said Mr Brooke. “No, there is no need now. We have kept it up long enough. We must reconnoitre and go back. They will think still that we are a shooting-party, and not know that we are making for them.”

“Of course not,” I said thoughtfully. “How could they know we had heard?”

We rowed steadily on for a minute or two, and then Ching said quietly—

“One boat—two boat come behind.”

We glanced back, and there, sure enough, were the sailing craft, which had been hanging about in front and aft, coming steadily along in our wake. A moment or two later Ching spoke again—

“Look over boat side, see jolly sailor boy.”

“Never mind those boats,” said Mr Brooke impatiently.

“Steady, my lads, hold hard now; that’s right,” he continued, as the oars were held, and checked the boat’s progress. “Now, Mr Herrick, take a good look at them. Do you think we should know them again if you saw them coming down the river?”

“Yes, sir,” I said; “the stern of this one and bows of the other would be unmistakable. I don’t think I could make a blunder.”

“No; almost impossible; pull starboard, back water, port side. Now, we’ll just turn and row gently back. I don’t see any men on board.”

“All lie down flat,” said Ching sharply. “Plenty men aboard.”

“Ah, well, it does not matter. I’m not going to run risks by attacking the savages. Lift your gun and look about, Herrick. Let them keep in the same mind.”

I stood up in the boat at this, and noted how rapidly the tide was running up as Mr Brooke gave the word to pull again.

The movement of the boat brought me in full view of the two sampans which had followed us, each with a man and boy aboard; and now, as I looked, I was surprised to see a yellow head raised and begin watching us. Then another; and Ching said quickly—“Lot men in both boats.”

I don’t know how they had stowed themselves, but now, to our intense astonishment, head after head appeared, till Mr Brooke exclaimed—

“Why, the boats are packed full of men.”

“Yes, and the junks too,” I whispered hastily; for their decks, which a few moments before had appeared to be bare, were now crowded.

“Trapped, Herrick!” said Mr Brooke through his set teeth. “Is this a trick on the part of Mr Ching?”

The men were looking hard at us, and they did not have long to wait.

“Arms ready, my lads?”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“That’s right. Now then, lay your backs to it, and row with all your might.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“What are you going to do?” I said huskily.

“Run for it. The junks can’t follow against this tide. We must row out into the river. Keep your fire till I give orders. They may not try to stop us. If they do, I shall try and ram one. We have four barrels for the other, without troubling the men.”

“You don’t think it’s a false alarm?”

“No,” he said sternly; “the falsity lies somewhere else.”

“He means Ching,” I said, but there was no time for much thought, not even to see a great deal. The men grasped the situation as soon as the boat’s head was straight, and Mr Brooke took the tiller in his left hand, his gun in his right, and cocked it, while I followed suit.

Then I felt disposed to laugh as Ching made a dive down, and began to crawl under the thwarts among the men’s legs, but the laugh changed to a serious grin as Mr Brooke steered to pass between the two boats, when the course of one was changed so as to throw her right athwart our way, and quite a dozen men rose up in each, armed with clumsy swords, yelling at us, and dancing about as they gesticulated and seemed to be trying to frighten us back.

“Very well, if you will have it,” said Mr Brooke between his teeth. “Be ready, my lads. Cutlasses, if they try to board.”

A sound like the exhaustion of a heavy breath escaped from the men, and Mr Brooke roared at them to pull, while I sat with my finger on the first trigger and the gun lowered a little, gazing wildly at the savage crew before us.

Those moments were like long minutes, but I could make out that, instead of frightening us, the men in the boat which crossed us were now frightened themselves, and they made an effort to give us room.

But there were too many of them—they got in each other’s way. Then there was a wild shriek, a crash, and the head of our fast cutter crashed into them, driving their bows round, partly forcing them under water, and the flimsily-built boat began rapidly to fill.

The second party held a little aloof, too much startled by the boldness of our manoeuvre to attempt to help their companions, so that we had only the first boat to tackle, as such of the men as could trampled over one another in their struggle to get on board us.

But the moment the crash had come our lads sprang up with a cheer, and, forgetting their proper weapons, let go at the enemy with their oars, using them as spears and two-handed swords, and with such effect that in less than a minute the wretches were driven back or beaten into the water, to swim to and cling to their half-sunken boat, whose light bamboos refused to go right down.

“Now pull—down with you—pull!” roared Mr Brooke, and, thanks to Mr Reardon’s grand “dishipline,” every man dropped into his place, and the boat, which had come to a standstill, now began to move forward, while the tide carried the enemy towards their junks, from whence came now as savage a yelling as that from the boats.

“Without firing a shot,” cried Mr Brooke exultantly. “Pull, boys. Now, a cheer! they can’t follow us against this tide.”

The men sent up a triumphant shout, and, as we swept round the next bend, we lost sight of the junks, and directly after of the two boats, the last I saw of them being that the crew of the second were dragging their companions of the first out of the water, and loading their own down to the gunwale edge.

“Now,” cried Mr Brooke, “who’s hurt?”

There was no answer for a moment or two. Then one of the men said, with a grin—

“I arn’t drownded, sir; but I shall ketch cold if something arn’t done—my feet’s wet.”

“Yes, so velly wet,” cried a plaintive voice, and Ching struggled up from the bottom of the boat, and stood up, showing his blue cotton garments to be drenched with water.

“What, have we sprung a leak?” cried Mr Brooke.

“Yes, sir,” said Tom Jecks, “she’s got a hole in her skin here forrard; but if I might be so bold, sir, if you was to send Mr Ching to lean up agin it, we shouldn’t hurt much.”

“Pull—pull steady,” cried Mr Brooke. “Here, take the tiller, Mr Herrick.”

He laid his gun behind us and handed me the rudder, before going right forward to the coxswain, while I sat envying the men their coolness as they sat pulling away nonchalantly enough, though the water was rising fast and nearly covered their bare feet and ankles, while it soon invaded the grating upon which my own boot-covered feet were placed.

“Much injured, sir?” I shouted; and Mr Brooke gave me back poor Mercutio’s answer to his friend, in Romeo and Juliet

“’Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door: but ’tis enough; ’twill serve.”

“Here, my lads, one of you; I must have a frock.”

“Right, sir, mine’ll do,” said the coxswain, unfastening and dragging his white duck garment over his head.

This was soaked and wrung out to make it softer, and then thrust into the hole in our bows.

“There, you must sit forward here, and plant both feet against it, my lad,” said Mr Brooke.

“Ay, ay, sir. Men never knows what he may come to. Fancy my toots being used to caulk a leak!”

He, laughing, sat down on the forward thwart, and pressed his feet against the jacket.

“Now then, a man to bale,” cried Mr Brooke, and the coxswain fished the tin baler out of the locker forward. “No; pass it here,” continued our leader. “Pull away, my lads, and Mr Herrick and I will take it in turns to bale. We must get out of this narrow creek as soon as we can.”

“Me balee water out,” squeaked Ching, who looked very wet and miserable.

“No, thank you,” said Mr Brooke coldly.

“Beg pardon, sir; I’ve got nothin’ to do but sit here like a himage,” said the coxswain; “I can reach down and bale.”

“Without shifting your feet?”

“Yes, sir; look here.”

The man took the baler, and began to send the water, which still came in but slowly, over the side; while, after satisfying myself that we should not be obliged to run our boat ashore and tramp back to the city, I kept on directing anxious glances backward to see if we were pursued.

“We shan’t sink, Herrick,” said Mr Brooke, returning to my side; while, after glancing at my very serious, and at the young lieutenant’s stern countenance, Ching crept forward under the oars to where the coxswain was baling, and, getting a second tin from the locker, he seated himself, tucked his loose things out of the way, and began meekly to toss out the water as fast as he could scoop it up.

“That fellow’s a traitor,” said Mr Brooke to me in a low voice, after a glance back by Ching.

“Oh no, I hope not, sir,” I said.

“I wish I could hope so too, my lad. There’s a deal of cunning in his plans, and he tried hard to make it seem that he was all the time working upon our side; but I feel as if he has led us into a trap, and we were very nearly coming to our end in it without a man left to tell the tale.”

“But why, sir? What object could he have?”

“Plunder, for one thing; our boat, and weapons such as they cannot get. Yes, I believe that he is in league with those pirates.”

“Oh, I can’t think it, Mr Brooke,” I cried. “He has served us so well.”

“Yes, to gain his own ends.”

“But surely he wouldn’t do such a base thing for the sake of getting a paltry share in these rifles and cutlasses?”

“He would have the satisfaction of seeing us massacred.”

“But what satisfaction could that be, sir?” I cried. “We have always been his friends.”

“The Chinese hate the outer barbarians and foreign devils, as they call us, my lad. They are obliged to tolerate our presence, but the common people, as you know well, would feel an intense pleasure in murdering every European they came across.”

“All the same, sir,” I said, “I don’t believe poor old Ching would do anything that was against us.”

“Well, we shall see. But what an escape, my lad! What a trap we were in!”

“And how capital to get out of it without having a man hurt.”

“It’s splendid, my lad. The captain will be delighted at that, and forgive me about the boat.”

“But we had to run away, sir,” I said.

“Rather strange running away to charge that boat as we did! But don’t you take it into your head, my lad, that it is cowardly to retreat at the proper time. It is madness to go throwing away the lives of your men when you can do no good by fighting. It might sound very grand and heroic for us to have fought both those boats, and then tried to capture the junks; but we must have been cut to pieces in the attempt, and what then—”

“We should have been able to say that we did not turn tail upon our enemies.”

“No, we should not, my boy, because there would not have been a soul left to tell the story. There, my lad, don’t indulge in romance. He is the best commander who gains victories at the smallest cost of blood to his country.—Ha, at last! how much longer the creek seems coming back than it did going up.”

“Running against the tide, too,” I cried; and the next minute we glided out into the big stream, crossed the river, and settled down to a quiet, steady row on the far side, where the eddy enabled us to make a very fine rate of speed.

But our rate did not satisfy Mr Brooke, who kept on looking at his watch as the time went on, and we found that the swift tide had carried us much farther than we thought for.

“We shall never get back at this rate,” said Mr Brooke, “and it can’t be very long before the tide turns, and then those scoundrels will come sailing down, perhaps pass us before we can get to the Teaser.”

“Hardly,” I ventured to observe.

“Well, no; you are right,” he said. “I am too impatient. We have a good start, and must get to the gunboat long before they can.”

Meanwhile Tom Jecks sat fast, pressing his feet against the jacket placed over the hole, and kept baling, while Ching took his time from him, and used his baler with enough skill to help get rid of a great deal of water, so that the boat was freed to an extent which set aside all danger of our sinking; but with all their efforts they never got beyond a certain point, for the water oozed in pretty constantly through and round the extempore plug.

At last, faint with heat and nearly exhausted, we came in sight of the first straggling houses, then they grew more close together, and fields and gardens gave place to the closely-packed habitations. For we had reached the town, though even then we had quite a long row before we could reach the Teaser.

The final stretch came at last—just about a quarter of a mile to traverse, and then we should be alongside.

“Thank goodness!” said Mr Brooke, drawing a deep breath; “I don’t know when I have felt so anxious. Now, my lads, only another five minutes—a long pull and a strong pull, and all together.”

The men cheered and pulled, sending the boat merrily along now, for the tide was close upon its highest point, and for some little time it grew more and more sluggish before the coxswain cried out—

“She’s swung round, sir; tide’s with us.”

“Ha!” ejaculated Mr Brooke. “Then we shall get to the Teaser in time. They couldn’t start from the creek with those light junks till now.”

“How much farther is it, sir?” I said, as he stood up and shaded his eyes with his hand.

“It can’t be many hundred yards,” he replied. “It must be just beyond that head where the boats lie so thick. Yes, off that temple there up on the hill.”

The men gave a cheer, and the boat sped on fast now, feeling the push given by the falling tide, and the short distance that lay between us; and the spot where we had lain at anchor so many days was soon traversed—the latter part in perfect silence, with Mr Brooke standing in the stern-sheets gazing straight ahead, and turning his eyes from side to side of the busy water thoroughfare.

“She has shifted her moorings,” he said at last.

“Has she, sir?” I replied, as I recalled how the furnace fires were going and the Teaser was getting up steam when we started.

“Yes; how tiresome!” he muttered. “Just, too, when we want to communicate at once.”

“But you can see her, sir?”

“No, my lad, no,” he cried. “How can I see her if she is not here?”

“But I thought you said she had shifted her moorings, sir?”

“Yes, and gone down the river somewhere. Hang it all, she can’t have sailed without us.”

“They wouldn’t do that, sir,” I cried, feeling quite startled at the idea of the ship leaving us with our small boat in the midst of strangers. “Why, she must have had news of some other junks, sir, and gone in pursuit, or is it a mistake? We can’t have come far enough. No; this is the spot.”

The men were looking at me inquiringly, just as men accustomed to be led lean on their superiors for orders, even if one of those superiors be a mere boy, while I, acting in precisely the same spirit, looked up to Mr Brooke, and listened excitedly for what he would say next.

It seemed to be a long time before he spoke, and then it was between his teeth and with angry vehemence, as he dropped down into his seat.

“After all this hard struggle to get back with our news,” he muttered, in so low a tone that I only heard his words, while the men sat with their oars balanced gazing forward to see if they could make out the Teaser’s funnel and tall spars. “They ought not to have stirred; it’s playing at dog and the shadow. Here have we brought the substance, and they are snapping at the reflection.”

“Mr Brooke!” I said in a whisper.

“All right, my boy; don’t be down-hearted. It’s the fortune of sea life. Here we are, tired, hungry, and hot, with a badly leaking boat, and a far from friendly place to land in and get her repaired.”

“But they can’t have gone far,” I said.

“I don’t know, my lad. Had some news of pirates, perhaps. All I know now is that they’ve left us in the lurch.”