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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77262-0.txt b/77262-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..661aa0e --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4909 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77262 *** + + + + + SEA, SPRAY AND SPINDRIFT + + + + + WORKS BY “TAFFRAIL” + + + CARRY ON! + Naval Sketches and Stories. + 1/- net, PEARSON. + + STAND BY! + Naval Sketches and Stories. + 1/- net, PEARSON. + + MINOR OPERATIONS + Naval Stories. + 1/- net, PEARSON. + + OFF SHORE + Naval Sketches and Stories. + 1/- net, PEARSON. + + PINCHER MARTIN, O.D. + A Story of the Navy. + (CHAMBERS.) + +[Illustration: “The torpedo must have struck her forward.... She seemed +to be sinking fast.” + +_Frontispiece_ _See page 156_ +] + + + + + SEA, SPRAY AND + SPINDRIFT + + NAVAL YARNS + + BY + + “TAFFRAIL” + + AUTHOR OF + “CARRY ON!” “PINCHER MARTIN, O.D.” + ETC., ETC. + + _With Eight Full-page Illustrations by + W. E. Wigfull & H. Sotheby Pitcher._ + + Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company + London: C. Arthur Pearson Ltd. + 1917 + + + + + _Printed in England_ + + + + +PREFACE + + +These stories were not originally written with a view to their ultimate +reappearance in book form, and most of them were written some while ago. +“Tubby’s Dhow” was first published in Herbert Strang’s _Annual for +Boys_; “The Stranding of the _Hoi-Hau_,” “The Salvage of the _Cashmere_” +and “The Luck of the _Tavy_,” in the _Scout_; “The Gunner’s Luck,” in +the _Weekly Telegraph_; “The Inner Patrol,” in the _Royal Magazine_; +“Horatio Nelson Chivers” and “The Escape of the _Speedwell_,” in the +_British Boys’ Annual_ (Messrs. Cassell & Co., Ltd.), and “The +Gun-runners,” in the _St. George’s Magazine_. I wish to acknowledge my +indebtedness to the respective Editors who have so kindly allowed me to +republish my work in book form. + +It is needless to remark that all my characters are fictitious. + +“TAFFRAIL.” + + 1917. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + I. TUBBY’S DHOW 9 + + II. THE STRANDING OF THE “HOI-HAU” 32 + + III. THE GUNNER’S LUCK 49 + + IV. HORATIO NELSON CHIVERS 61 + + V. THE SALVAGE OF THE “CASHMERE” 84 + + VI. THE INNER PATROL 99 + + VII. THE GUN-RUNNERS 109 + +VIII. THE ESCAPE OF THE “SPEEDWELL” 129 + + IX. THE LUCK OF THE “TAVY” 147 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +The torpedo must have struck her forward _Frontispiece_ + + TO FACE PAGE + +Tubby, making a sudden spring, hit him full on the +point of the jaw 20 + +Jim saw the masts of the native craft falling, whilst +masses of debris were flung skyward by the force +of the powerful explosive 47 + +He saw to his inexpressible relief that the entrance +to Salhanda Bay was in sight 57 + +“It’s laudanum. Here, take it and hide it somewhere” 77 + +The fiery trail of a rocket leapt out from the darkness 89 + +He seized the axe and made a wild slash 142 + +The glare died away, but not before he had caught a +fleeting glimpse of the dark shape of a vessel 150 + + + + +SEA, SPRAY AND SPINDRIFT + + + + +I + +TUBBY’S DHOW + + +I + +“Oh, blow this Arabic!” exclaimed the midshipman petulantly, shutting up +the phrase book on the table before him with a bang and leaning back to +stretch himself. + +“What’s the matter now, Tubby?” asked a small officer called Travers, +who, by reason of his rather shrill voice, always went by the name of +“Squeaker.” + +“Tubby,” otherwise Midshipman Arthur Geoffrey Plantagenet, Royal Navy, +mopped his face for a minute before replying. It must be admitted that +he fully deserved his nickname, for in appearance he was short and very +rotund, and was the proud possessor of a bright red face, a crop of +freckles, and a shock of sandy hair. His _tout ensemble_ was not +prepossessing, but his even white teeth and blue eyes saved him from +being absolutely ugly, particularly when he laughed. + +“What was that you said, Squeaker?” he said at last. + +“I asked you what was the matter.” + +“It’s this heat,” Tubby complained. “One can’t do any work while it’s +like this!” + +Their ship--H.M.S. _Clytia_, light cruiser--was in the Gulf of Oman, and +it certainly was over-poweringly hot; for the pitch bubbled in the seams +on deck, while the awnings overhead seemed to collect rather than +mitigate the heat from the blazing sun above. + +“But why d’you want to learn Arabic?” asked Travers after another pause. + +“Because I want to know the language, silly!” retorted Plantagenet. “I +know all you fellows jeered at me when I took it up, but though I’ve +only been at it six months I know quite enough to make myself understood +ashore.” + +“But----” the other was about to protest. + +“Be quiet, you two!” growled a drowsy sub-lieutenant from a deck chair. +“Can’t you let a fellow get to sleep?” + +It was a “make and mend” afternoon, which in other words meant that all +the midshipmen had a half-holiday. It followed, therefore, since the +ship was at sea and they could not get ashore, that the greater number +of them followed the usual custom of the Service and spent it in sleep. +The small curtained-off inclosure on the upper deck, serving for the +time being as the gunroom, since the heat down below was quite +unendurable, was full of young officers stretched out on forms and deck +chairs in various stages of drowsiness and deshabille. Tubby and +Travers, in fact, the latter of whom had been industriously writing up +his journal, were the only two members of the little community who were +awake. + +“I say, Squeaker,” whispered the former, glancing round to see if the +sub-lieutenant was asleep, “you know we’re anchoring off one of the +villages at daylight to-morrow?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, I heard the skipper telling the commander that all the officers +who could be spared could go ashore for a run, snotties as well. It ’ud +be rather a good idea if you and I took our guns. We might get Molyneux +to come too,” he added, referring to one of the other midshipmen. + +“I’m all for it,” agreed Squeaker; “but is there anything to shoot?” + +“I dare say. I had a look at the chart this afternoon, and about five +miles along the coast from where we’ll anchor there’s some cover a short +way inland. It’s not far from a village. I vote we go in that +direction.” + +“All right,” said Travers; “but d’you think it’ll be quite safe?” + +“Of course, it will; why shouldn’t it be?” + +“I’ve heard that all these villagers are in league with the gun-runners +we’re trying to catch,” explained the other. “It would be rather a bad +look-out if we got caught.” + +“Oh, that’s all rot,” put in Tubby. “They won’t hurt us. You’ll come, I +suppose?” + +“You bet.” + +“All right. That’s fixed up. I know Molyneux’ll be keen.” + +To understand the exact nature of the operations in which the _Clytia_ +was taking part, it is necessary to refer to the map. The native dhows +carrying arms and ammunition usually left different places on the Oman +and Pirate coasts of Arabia, their destinations being the small bays +and creeks between Lingah and Charbar on the Mekran coast. On being +disembarked, the weapons were loaded on camels and taken inland to +Afghanistan, where, subsequently, they were used by the tribesmen +against the British forces on the northern frontier of India. + +To guard against this gun-running, so prejudicial to British interests, +the Oman and Pirate coasts and the Mekran coast of Persia were being +patrolled by cruisers, while further inshore a ceaseless watch was +maintained by the boats of the Squadron. + +For two weeks the _Clytia_ had been cruising slowly up and down between +Charbar and Jask, this being the portion of coast she had been detailed +to watch, while her four largest sailing boats, carrying Maxim guns, and +with their crews fully armed, had been sent away in charge of her +lieutenants. They were each responsible for about thirty miles of coast, +and had orders to search all the inner anchorages and small bays, and to +overhaul and examine all the native craft they came across. + +Each week the ship met her small fry at previously determined +rendezvous, and on these occasions she received their reports, +replenished their stock of water and food, and, if necessary, relieved +the crews. But though the watch had been carried on with tireless +vigilance, nothing had happened and no dhows with arms on board had been +seized. + +The men were beginning to weary of the ceaseless monotony. There was no +excitement to keep them going, and for a lieutenant, several seamen, a +signalman and a native interpreter to be herded together in a small +undecked boat about 28 feet long, was not altogether comfortable. They +had to live, eat and sleep as best they could, and though sometimes they +did get ashore on a barren stretch of sand, where they would amuse +themselves in the cool of the evening by kicking a football about, they +were getting sick of it. The weather, too, was not always fine, for at +times the boats would be compelled to anchor off the coast to ride out a +strong “Shamal,” or north-westerly gale. This was always a most trying +experience, but the only other alternative was to land up some creek, +and this, as a rule, was too hazardous to be attempted, for the +inhabitants were generally hostile, and would not hesitate to attack if +they had the least chance of success. + +Tubby’s proposed expedition, therefore, was not quite so safe as he +imagined. + + +II + +Early the next morning the _Clytia_ anchored off a small village on the +coast some distance to the eastward of Jask. She was to remain till the +following morning, and all the officers and men who could be spared from +duty, including the midshipmen, were sent ashore to stretch their legs. + +Directly they landed, Tubby, Travers and Molyneux set off to the +eastward along the coast. They were burdened with their guns, cartridge +bags and water-bottles, and on account of the great heat soon found +progress very trying. The route led them across large tracts of dry +powdery sand, into which they sank up to their ankles, through +occasional patches of thick scrub, which were difficult to negotiate, +and by the time they neared their destination they were all three tired +out, hot, and very thirsty, in spite of the copious draughts of water +they had swallowed on the way. There was not a tree in the place under +which they could sit for protection from the sun, and they all wanted +rest badly. + +“What d’you think we’d better do, Tubby?” asked Molyneux, stopping to +lace up his boot. “I feel like a spell in the shade, but there’s not a +tree in sight anywhere.” + +“I’m tired of marching about like this,” agreed the young officer +addressed. “What do you think about it, Squeaker?” + +The youth looked round for some moments without replying. “I think,” he +remarked at length, “we might go on to that village and see if they’ll +let us sit down in one of their houses for a bit. The place’ll smell +like fury, but it’s either that or no spell.” He pointed to the small +collection of mud hovels about half a mile ahead. + +“Um, yes,” agreed Tubby. “I suppose that’s what we’d better do. Come +on!” + +They tramped forward, but had not advanced more than two hundred yards +when they saw a man advancing along the beach towards them. He was clad +in a dirty white burnous and, coming forward, raised his hand in a sort +of military salute, and showed his teeth in a grin. + +“You shoot?” he asked in English. + +“Yes,” answered Tubby. + +“I good guide, tell where you get plenty big bird,” said the new-comer, +tapping himself on the chest and then pointing inland. + +“We want to sit down for a bit,” explained Molyneux. “Have you a house +in that village?” + +“I got good house; you come see,” said the man, pointing over his +shoulder. “My name Takadin. Engleesh call me Jack Robinson. Very good +name. I been Bombay, Aden, and plenty big town. I know plenty +Engleeshman. I very good man.” + +“Where did you learn English?” Tubby asked. + +“I sailor B.1 boat, long time,” answered the Arab. + +“What d’you think?” Tubby asked his companions. “Shall we go with him?” + +“I vote we do,” they both said at once, for they were very tired; and +led by their new friend, they were soon in what was evidently the main +street of the village. + +It was really nothing more nor less than a narrow passage-way between +two rows of very tumbledown-looking one-storeyed mud hovels, and the +advent of Europeans was evidently regarded by the inhabitants as +something quite out of the ordinary. Half-a-dozen mangy-looking curs +sniffed suspiciously at their heels, while tribes of small brown +children, clad in the sketchiest of garments, gazed at the foreigners +open-mouthed with amazement. Numbers of men, dressed in dirty white +robes, eyed them with evil, scowling faces, and it was quite obvious +that whatever feelings for the British Mr. “Jack Robinson” had, these +Arabs were none too friendly. There was something insolent in the way +they laughed, and in their glowering, sullen glances, and one or two of +them, Tubby noticed, spat on the ground after the little procession had +passed. + +The boy felt nervous, for there was no mistaking the hostility of the +natives; but it was too late to draw back now, nor, for the time being, +could he impart his fears to his companions. He was thinking how sorry +he was not to have taken the advice of people who knew better than he +did, when their guide suddenly stopped before a low doorway. + +“This my house!” he exclaimed with an air of pride. “Very good house!” + +The midshipmen did not think much of it, for it was distinctly on its +last legs, but followed him inside. The room they found themselves in +contained little in the way of furniture, but asking them to sit down on +a kind of couch running along one side of the wall, the Arab pushed +aside a mat hanging across the doorway leading into the inner room, and +disappeared inside. Judging from the shrill cackle that went on as soon +as he entered, the ladies of the establishment were within, but the +noise was rather welcome, for it gave Tubby a chance of talking to his +friends without being overheard. + +“I say, Molyneux,” he said in a whisper, “I vote we clear out of this +village as soon as we can. Did you see how those fellows looked at us as +we came along?” + +“Yes, I did,” answered the other rather nervously. “D’you think they +mean any harm, though?” + +“No, I don’t think so; the ship’s too close. I wish we hadn’t come, for +all that. Whatever you do, keep your guns loaded, and don’t let go of +them.” He noiselessly slipped a couple of cartridges into the breech of +his weapon. + +“Look out!” hissed Travers. “The Arab’s coming back!” + +“Mum’s the word then,” whispered Tubby; “but we’ll clear out as soon as +we can, and for goodness’ sake don’t let’s get separated!” + +There was no time for further conversation, for just at that moment the +mat was pushed aside and Takadin came in with a tray, on which there +were several small bowls filled with dates and a few nasty-looking +native cakes. + +“Please to eat,” he said with a deprecatory smile. “I poor man; Engleesh +my friend.” + +The food did not look very appetising, but now it had been brought the +boys could not very well refuse to eat for fear of being thought +uncivil, and selecting some dates, as being the most harmless, began to +nibble at them. The sandwiches out of their haversacks, however, were +far more to their liking, and giving one or two to Takadin in return for +his hospitality, they had soon made a satisfactory meal, which they +washed down with water from their bottles. Having eaten, Tubby felt more +cheerful, and was beginning to forget his fears, when a figure appeared +in the doorway leading to the street outside. + +Their host instantly rose to his feet and made a low obeisance to the +new-comer, a tall, fine-looking, white-bearded Arab clad in the +inevitable burnous. He was evidently of better class than the other men +they had seen, and judging from Takadin’s behaviour that he was a +notability of some kind, the boys stood up and bowed. Their salutation +was returned. + +“Peace be unto thee, my son,” said the new arrival, addressing Takadin. + +He spoke in Arabic, but Tubby had little difficulty in understanding his +words. + +“Peace be unto thee, my father,” returned their host, bowing again. + +“What do these dogs of infidels under thy roof?” demanded the Sheikh, +for such he was, and casting a piercing glance from his black eyes at +the three boys. + +“They come, my father, from the war vessel anchored off the coast. They +came seeking shelter from the sun.” + +“Dogs!” hissed the old man. “Spawn of the devil! May their eyes be +blasted with the fire which never languishes! By the Beard of the +Prophet, my son, thou didst a good stroke of business in sheltering +them!” + +Tubby gave a start of surprise which nearly betrayed him. + +“But I came, O Takadin,” he went on to say, “to have a word with thee. +’Tis only for thine ear.” + +“Speak on, my father; my women are out of hearing, and the unbelievers +have no knowledge of our tongue.” + +Tubby, half beside himself with apprehension and excitement, listened +intently, trying hard not to let his face betray the fact that he +understood most of what was being said. But the Sheikh was talking +again. + +“The dhow from Oman with the rifles my son, when does she arrive?” + +“Seven days from now, my father, at the spot close by the watch tower. +The camels will be ready, thy servant has seen to that, and the +nakhuda[A] has orders to land them four hours after the setting of the +sun.” + +“It is well. I like not these dogs of hillmen in our midst. They strip +us bare like a flock of locusts. I like them not, they and their camels. +I shall give thanks to Allah when they depart.” + +“Even so, my father,” agreed Takadin. “They are carrion fit only for +vultures.” + +“Speak no word to any man of what we have said,” ordered the Sheikh. + +“Thy servant’s lips are sealed, my father.” + +“But these unbelievers, my son, who have fallen into our hands. A ransom +will not come amiss.” + +“Their war vessel is very close, my father, and our village will surely +be laid in ruins if they should be harmed.” + +The Sheikh made a gesture of annoyance. “Thou art my servant, O +Takadin!” he exclaimed angrily. “What I have said I have said!” + +“Even so, my father,” said the other, with a cringing bow. + +“’Tis well. Delay them here till I return; I go to seek my men. The +infidels shall be detained. By Allah! Would that I had the opportunity +to sear their flesh with red-hot pincers! To make them food for the +vultures of the desert!” With which terrible wish the Sheikh +disappeared. + +For a second or two Tubby was absolutely nonplussed by what he had +heard. Takadin would certainly carry out his orders if he could, and in +a minute or two the chief would probably return with his men. The boy +racked his brains for a way out of the difficulty. To escape through the +village was an obvious impossibility, for they would have to run the +gauntlet of all the inhabitants. Then the boy’s memory came to his +assistance. He suddenly recollected the topography of the place, and +how, when walking down the street, he had seen a little strip of blue +sea at the end of it. He remembered, also, that when they were +approaching the village he had noticed a low wooden pier with a boat +made fast alongside it. Here was a solution. The house they were in +could not be more than two hundred yards from the water. They must make +a dash for the boat. All these thoughts flashed through his mind, but +what had to be done must be done at once. + +“I say, Molyneux!” he said in an excited whisper, “be ready to make a +dash as soon as I do!” + +“Whatever for?” asked the other, “what’s all the----?” + +“I can’t tell you now,” hissed Tubby, “but it’s jolly serious. Be ready +to make a bolt for the sea; you too, Travers.” + +The other two looked at each other in amazement, for they could not +conceive what had happened, but they both followed Tubby’s example when +he stood up with his gun. + +Takadin noticed what was going on. “You no go,” he said with a +treacherous smile, “you stay my house. I very----” + +But he got no further, for Tubby, making a sudden spring, hit him full +on the point of the jaw. + +[Illustration: “Tubby, making a sudden spring, hit him full on the point +of the jaw.” + +_To face page 20_ +] + +The Arab was quite unprepared for the sudden attack and staggered +backwards, and another severe punch laid him flat on the ground. + +“Run!” yelled the assailant to his companions, “run for all you’re +worth!” + +He dashed out of the door followed by the others, and as he emerged he +caught a hurried glimpse of the Sheikh and half-a-dozen men coming down +the street from the right. The latter shouted and promptly started off +in pursuit, but the boys made for the sea at full pelt, the din behind +making them run all the faster. + +Every second Tubby expected to hear a bullet whistling by his ears, but, +though he did not know it till later, the Arabs carried no firearms. +Still, the situation was quite bad enough, for though nobody tried to +intercept them in their flight, they could hear their pursuers padding +along close behind. + +On and on they flew until, after what seemed an eternity, they reached +the end of the lane and saw the open sea before them, and the wooden +jetty, with the boat still made fast alongside it, a short distance to +the left. Tubby’s breath came in great gasps, his head throbbed, and he +felt as if his heart would burst, but he tore on with the others close +behind. + +By the time they reached the shore end of the pier, however, the leading +Arab, who was some distance ahead of his friends, was barely three feet +behind Molyneux, the last of the three. The man suddenly nerved himself +for a supreme effort, and springing forward seized the boy by the +shoulder. Molyneux promptly swerved in his stride, but tripped, and +before he quite knew what had happened had fallen headlong on his face. +The Arab, unable to stop himself, still came on, and catching his foot +in the prostrate boy’s body, gave a loud yell and disappeared over the +edge of the pier into the water. + +Tubby, hearing the commotion, glanced round to see what had happened, +and, stopping himself suddenly, turned round and dashed back to his +fallen friend. Travers also checked himself, not knowing what to do. + +“Get into the boat!” Tubby yelled to him, noticing his indecision. “Get +in and cast her off!” + +The small midshipman clambered on board and began to fumble with the +painter, while Tubby put back the safety catch of his hammerless gun and +held it ready. The other Arabs, meanwhile, had just reached the shore +end of the pier, and to the boy’s relief he suddenly noticed that none +of them carried firearms. + +“If you come any further I’ll fire!” he shouted breathlessly in their +own language. “Get up, Molyneux!” he added in English. “Get down into +the boat and cover ’em with your gun!” + +Molyneux sprang to his feet and joined Travers in the boat. + +The Arabs had halted when they heard Tubby’s hail, and were now talking +excitedly among themselves, but then one of them drew a long +evil-looking knife and made a step forward. + +Tubby promptly covered him. “Drop that or I fire!” he commanded. To his +intense surprise the man obeyed his peremptory order. + +“Thou son of a pig!” bellowed the enraged Sheikh. “Wouldst thou obey the +command of an infidel? Seize him, I say! Seize him!” But the men did +not like the look of the gun muzzles confronting them, and still hung +back. + +“Come on!” shouted Travers at length, “I’ve cast her off!” + +“Have you got ’em covered?” asked Tubby. + +“Yes,” cried Molyneux, squinting along his weapon. + +Tubby walked backwards until he came to where the boat lay, and then +jumped on board. + +“By Allah! Thou craven sons of pigs!” yelled the Sheikh. “They would +steal the boat! At them!” + +The men came panting along the low jetty, but it was too late, for by +the time they reached the end the boat was a good half-dozen yards away. +They could do nothing; there was no other boat in which they could give +chase, and they had to content themselves by throwing strange curses at +the three boys who had outwitted them. + +“By George!” remarked Tubby breathlessly, tugging at one of the clumsy +oars, “that was a jolly narrow squeak! I thought they had us!” + +“I regarded it as a dead cert!” said Molyneux gravely. + +A gentle south-westerly breeze had sprung up, and five minutes later, as +the discomfited Arabs were leaving the pier, the sail had been hoisted, +and the boat was bowling along the coast towards the spot where the +adventurers had landed. + +As soon as he recovered his breath, Tubby told his companions of the +conversation he had overheard, and their eyes opened wider and wider +with astonishment as he went on. + +“Well, what d’you propose to do?” queried Molyneux, when at length the +tale was told. + +“Tell the commander,” said Tubby. “But I say, you fellows, not a word of +this to anyone else!” + +“Right O!” they both agreed. + +There is no necessity to describe the homeward journey, or how, after +sailing about three miles along the coast, they landed, left the boat on +the beach, and finished the journey on foot. + +But that evening Tubby summoned up his courage, and in an interview with +the commander told him all he had heard. But that officer, though he +promised to inform the captain, did not realise how much Arabic the boy +really knew, and at any rate it was quite obvious that he did not +believe his story. + + +III + +Three mornings later, when the _Clytia_ had resumed her weary patrol of +the coast, a messenger suddenly burst into the place where Tubby was +endeavouring to work out a sight under the direction of the naval +instructor. + +“Beg pardon, sir,” said the man, “but is Mr. Plantagenet ’ere?” + +“Here I am,” said that young officer. “What is it?” + +“Please, sir, th’ capten wants you on th’ bridge at once.” + +Tubby dashed off, and on reaching the bridge went up to the captain and +saluted. “You sent for me, sir?” he asked. + +“Yes, Mr. Plantagenet. The commander tells me you know Arabic. Is that +so?” + +“I know a little, sir,” Tubby modestly answered. + +“Enough to understand conversations when you hear ’em, eh?” asked the +captain with a twinkle in his eye. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Well, be ready to leave the ship in ten minutes’ time. The native +interpreter in the third cutter,” he waved his hand to where the boat +they had just met lay alongside, “is down with fever, and you’ll have to +go instead of him. I do not, Mr. Plantagenet, approve of your going +visiting native villages when you go ashore, you must understand, but I +suppose you remember whereabouts this one was?” + +“Perfectly, sir,” said Tubby. + +“So much the better, then. You may perhaps be able to bring back that +dhow you heard the men talking about. Hurry up now, collect what you +want, and then report yourself to Mr. Thompson, who is in charge of the +boat.” + +The midshipman dashed off to his chest, without stopping even to tell +his messmates of what had occurred, and hurrying back on deck again +reported himself as ordered. + +Five minutes later the ship had left them and was steaming off to the +westward, and the cutter, hoisting her sails to the light off-shore +breeze, resumed her work of watching the coast. + +“But are you quite certain of what you’ve just told me?” asked Thompson, +rather incredulously, when, an hour later, Tubby imparted his secret. + +“Yes, sir, quite,” said the boy. “I told the commander directly I got on +board, and he told the skip--the captain, sir. He evidently believes it, +sir. I’m quite certain myself, too,” he reiterated. + +“Well, we’ll have a try at this dhow of yours, and if we do get her, +it’ll be a bit of a feather in your cap, young man.” + +Tubby looked very pleased. + +“Luckily,” continued the lieutenant, “the watch tower you mention is on +our beat. Just to the east’ard of the village where you went. You say +they were to land the stuff four hours after sunset four days from now. +Is that correct?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Well, at that time, close on midnight, I should think it ’ud be, this +boat’ll pull into the bay by the watch tower, and, with any luck, +granted of course that this yarn of yours is all right, we’ll collar ’em +red-handed.” + +Tubby sincerely hoped they would. He did not want to be made a fool of. + + +IV + +The night was very dark with no moon; hardly a ripple disturbed the +glassy surface of the water, and silently, for her oars were muffled, +the cutter crept on. + +“There’s the watch tower!” said Thompson in a whisper, pointing away to +the port bow where a dim shape could just be seen against the blue of +the sky. + +Tubby took his watch out of his pocket and held it close to the shaded +lantern in the stern of the boat. “By Jove!” he ejaculated. + +“What’s the matter?” Thompson inquired. + +“It’s nearly one o’clock, sir,” the boy replied anxiously. “She ought to +be here by now.” Then a sudden horrible thought flashed through his +mind. “I clean forgot!” he exclaimed in an agitated whisper. + +“Forgot what?” + +“That when the Arabs chased us I talked to ’em in Arabic, sir. They’ll +know that I understood what was said about the rifles, and they may have +been able to tell the dhow to go somewhere else. Suppose----” but he was +interrupted by the coxswain. + +“I thought I seed somethink over there, sir,” whispered the man +excitedly, pointing to starboard. “A sort o’ shadow like---- Yessir,” he +suddenly broke off, “there’s somethink there right enough!” + +“Hard-a-port! Steer straight for it!” ordered the lieutenant, seeing +what the man was pointing at. + +Before they had gone fifty yards in the new direction the shadow +resolved itself into the familiar outline of a dhow heading in for the +land. The wind had dropped, but those in the cutter could hear the +creaking of her sweeps as she approached. Nearer and nearer she drew. +Three hundred yards--two hundred--one hundred. Tubby unbuttoned the +holster of his revolver and waited; the seconds seemed interminable. +Then, quite suddenly, the Arabs became aware that they were not alone, +for a loud hail came out of the darkness. “Is that thou, O Takadin?” +yelled a voice in Arabic, its owner probably thinking that a boat must +have come out from the village to guide them into the anchorage. + +“Tell ’em to heave to!” ordered Thompson. + +Tubby did so. + +“Name of Allah!” shrieked the voice in alarm. “Arm yourselves, my +brothers! The Kafir dogs are upon us!” + +A spit of flame broke out from the black shape ahead, and a bullet sang +off into the darkness. + +“Give ’em a round or two from the maxim!” cried Thompson. + +“Pop, pop, pop--pop, pop,” went the little weapon. + +A chorus of yells and shrieks came from the dhow, and the movement of +her oars ceased abruptly as the crew sprang for their weapons. No +further shots were fired, but a few sturdy strokes brought the cutter +alongside, and boating their oars the bluejackets endeavoured to board. +But the vessel’s high bulwarks were lined with armed Arabs, who slashed +and hewed with their swords whenever a head appeared over the gunwale. +Twice were the sailors driven back into their boat by sheer weight of +superior numbers, and for a time the result hung in the balance, for +even with their cutlasses and revolvers they could not gain a footing on +the enemy’s deck. + +Thompson, however, summed up the situation, and noticing that the +greater number of the enemy were busy repelling the attack from the +stern of the boat, suddenly leapt forward and clambered on board the +dhow from there, before anyone could arrive to resist him. He was +followed by three men, and the instant they were seen, all the Arabs +came forward to drive them back. This diversion gave the others the +opportunity they wanted, and before he quite understood what had +happened, Tubby found himself scrambling on board followed by the men. +Rushing forward, with a revolver in one hand and a drawn cutlass in the +other, he instantly found himself confronted by a tall Arab armed with a +curved sword. The man made a wild slash, his keen blade whistling within +a couple of inches of the midshipman’s shoulder, but before he could +recover himself Tubby’s revolver spoke, and the man collapsed in a heap. +Another assailant came at him with a pistol, and while the boy was still +fumbling with his weapon, for it was very dark, there was a spit of +flame, a loud report, and he felt a burning sensation in his left arm. +He dropped his revolver with the pain, but before his attacker could do +further damage, a bluejacket had felled him with the butt of a rifle. + +It was a ghastly business, for the Arabs were desperate, and the British +had their work cut out. The sharp reports of rifles and revolvers, the +dull thudding of falling blades, the shouts of the sailors, and the wild +yells of the enemy, converted the peaceful night into a seething +pandemonium of sound. But it could not last for very long, for at last +only three Arabs remained, and these, fighting desperately, had been +driven into a corner. + +“Ask ’em if they’ll surrender,” panted Thompson. “Tell ’em they won’t be +killed.” + +Tubby did so, and the men dropped their weapons with a clatter. It was +the last thing he remembered, for, overcome by the pain of his wound, he +suddenly collapsed in a heap on the deck. + +Thompson sprang forward to his assistance. “What’s the matter, +Plantagenet?” he asked, not knowing the boy was wounded. + +But Tubby had fainted. + + * * * * * + +The next day the captured dhow, which was found to have on board 2500 +rifles and many thousands of rounds of ammunition, met H.M.S. _Clytia_. +The wounded, for by some miraculous chance none of the boat’s crew had +been killed, were transferred to the ship, and Tubby, who was only +slightly wounded, at once found himself a regular hero, and the subject +of envy from all his messmates. He pretended to hate this notoriety, +especially when the captain sent for and congratulated him personally, +but his cup of happiness was not yet full. + +About six months later, when the ship was at Colombo, Tubby was again +ushered into his commanding officer’s presence. + +“Mr. Plantagenet,” said the captain, “I have been directed by My Lords +Commissioners of the Admiralty to inform you that your name has been +noted for early promotion to the rank of lieutenant on your passing the +necessary examinations.” He looked up with a twinkle in his eye to see +how the boy took it. + +“Sir!” gasped the midshipman, hardly able to believe his ears. + +The captain handed him the paper he had been reading. “Read it +yourself,” he said. + +Tubby stared at the typewritten sheets in amazement. He had had no +inkling of this. He, Arthur Geoffrey Plantagenet--oh, really it was too +much. He burst out into a delighted chuckle. + + + + +II + +THE STRANDING OF THE HOI-HAU + + +I + +“Pirates!” laughed the mate. “Of course there are. Why d’you ask?” + +“I was reading in a book this afternoon that there were no such things +nowadays,” replied the boy. “But tell me,” he queried anxiously, “do +they still kill people, and make them walk the plank, and all that sort +of thing?” + +“Don’t think they make ’em walk the plank,” answered the mate, cutting +himself another slice of bread. “But nearly every Chinese fisherman is a +pirate at heart, and some of ’em ’ud think nothing of attacking a ship +if they had half a chance.” + +“Do they come out to sea, then?” asked Jim excitedly, for the subject +fascinated him. + +“No, there are too many gunboats and cruisers knocking about, but if a +junk full of Chinamen came across a defenceless ship they’d attack her +all right, and kill every soul on board if they resisted. They’re born +thieves when there’s any loot to be had--aren’t they, sir?” he asked, +turning to the captain. + +“Aye, that they are,” agreed Captain McCaul. “I’ve heard of a good many +cases where they’ve done it.” + +“Is that why we’ve got those rifles on board, then?” asked Jim, who +remembered having seen half-a-dozen weapons in a rack in the chartroom. + +The mate and skipper nodded together. + +The three of them, Captain McCaul, Mr. Dowell, the mate, and Jim McCaul, +the captain’s son, were sitting at supper in the saloon of the steamer +_Hoi-Hau_, now steaming up the Yellow Sea on her way from Shanghai to +the North China ports with a general cargo. + +The _Hoi-Hau_ was rather an old tub, and though his owners had offered +Captain McCaul the command of one of their larger vessels, the gruff old +Scotsman had preferred to remain where he was. His wife and family lived +in Shanghai, and as the ship was engaged in the North China trade, he +saw more of his home than if he were in command of a passenger boat. + +Jim McCaul, his eldest son, a boy of fifteen, was at school at Shanghai, +and with the idea of giving him a change the skipper frequently took him +to sea when the holidays came round. + +The boy naturally looked upon his occasional sea trips as a great treat, +for besides giving him the opportunity of seeing all sorts of strange +places, Mr. Dowell took a great interest in him, and it was really due +to the officer’s coaching that Jim had become quite a good seaman. + +Supper was soon over, and, accompanied by his son, Captain McCaul left +the saloon and clambered up on to the bridge. The sun had set, and +overhead the stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, while there +was hardly a breath of wind to mar the smooth surface of the sea. + +“By George!” exclaimed Jim, “it’s a ripping night!” + +“Don’t know so much about that,” growled the skipper, sniffing the air. +“I’d rather have a little breeze. With calm weather like this we may +find ourselves in for a fog off the Shantung Promontory. What d’you +think about it, Martin?” he asked the second mate, who happened to be on +watch. + +“Don’t like it at all, sir,” replied that officer. + +The captain grunted. + +“Well,” he said, “we ought to be rounding the Promontory at about three +o’clock to-morrow morning. I’ll turn in now, as I shall be on deck at +midnight. Call me at once if it comes on thick.” + +McCaul, accompanied by Jim, left the bridge. + +“Good night, my son,” he said, halting outside his cabin by the +charthouse. “To-morrow I’ll take you for a run at Chifu. I’ve to go +ashore to see the agents.” + +“That’ll be grand,” said Jim, pleased at the idea. “Good night, father.” + +The skipper disappeared into his cabin, and Jim went below and turned +in. For an hour he lay reading, but then his weariness overcame him, and +blowing out his candle he fell asleep with the regular throb of the +propeller sounding in his ears. + +The captain’s prophecy about fog turned out to be correct, for shortly +after he went on deck at midnight, the clear horizon ahead of the ship +became blotted out. By one o’clock the stars were barely visible +through the pall overhead, while half an hour later it was thick fog. + +The skipper accordingly eased the engines until the vessel was +travelling at six knots, and began pulling the syren lanyard every two +minutes in making the prescribed fog signal. + +The hoarse braying of the powerful instrument woke all the sleepers, but +Jim felt too lazy to get up, and after getting used to the dismal sound, +rolled over and fell off to sleep again. + +Soon afterwards, Dowell, clad in a greatcoat over his pyjamas, went up +on to the bridge. + +“Hullo,” said the captain. “What’s brought you up here?” + +“Syren kept me awake, sir,” the mate explained, “and I came up to see if +you wanted any soundings taken.” + +“Thanks. I think you’d better get the machine going,” said the skipper. + +Dowell went aft to the poop with two of the Chinese crew, and before +long the wire of the sounding machine was released, and the lead +descended to the bottom. He noticed that it took a much shorter time +than it should have, for the ship ought to have been in sixty fathoms, +and winding up the wire as fast as he could, he anxiously compared the +glass tube with the graduated scale. To his horror the depth was no more +than seventeen fathoms! + +He began to run forward to report the fact to the bridge, for it was +quite obvious that the ship was too near the shore, but hardly had he +taken two steps when the vessel gave a quivering shudder, and he could +feel her grinding and bumping over some object far below the waterline. + +Presently the engines stopped with a jar, and all movement ceased. The +ship had struck a ledge of submerged rock, and was fast ashore. + +Dowell, with the second mate and Jim, the two latter having been +awakened by the shock, all arrived on the bridge at much the same +moment, while the native crew, terrified out of their senses, had turned +out of the forecastle, and were clustered on deck chattering loudly. + +“What’s happened, sir?” asked Dowell breathlessly, although he well knew +what the answer would be. + +“We’re ashore,” replied the captain. “You’d better get the boats turned +out, provisioned, and ready for lowering, Martin,” he went on, +addressing the second mate. “Go round with the chief engineer and see +what damage has been done, and then report to me.” + +The boats were turned out and provisioned, and presently Parton, the +chief engineer, came on to the bridge to make his report. + +“Well, captain,” he said, “I don’t think there’s much damage.” + +The skipper heaved a deep sigh of relief. + +“From what I can see she’s leakin’ a bit under number one and two holds, +but the pumps are keeping the flow down quite easily.” + +“Thank goodness for that!” ejaculated McCaul. “There’s no reason why we +shouldn’t float off at high water, then?” + +The fog was still very thick, but soon after daylight, when the effect +of the morning sun began to make itself felt, the outline of land became +visible, and when at length the mist had completely dispersed it could +be seen that the steamer was ashore on a ledge of rock within a stone’s +throw of the coast. + +To the right, the shore was one uninterrupted line of cliff, but a mile +or so to the left of where the vessel lay, these abrupt slopes gave way +to a shallow, sandy bay in which were anchored several Chinese junks. + +At the head of the bay was a straggling native village, and on looking +at it through his glasses the captain could see the inhabitants +clustered on the beach gazing with obvious astonishment at the stranded +steamer. + +An hour passed without incident, the pumps managing to keep down the +flow of water, but towards eight o’clock the nearest junk weighed her +anchor, and with her brown sails bellying out in the breeze drew near +the _Hoi-Hau_. + +She approached rapidly, and when within a hundred yards of the steamer +hove to. Soon afterwards a native sampan put off from her side, and came +to the steamer, while a big, dark-skinned Chinaman, clad in loose blue +coat and trousers, clambered up the rope ladder, and appeared on deck. + +“Steamer makee go ashore, cap’n,” he remarked in pidgin English. “Velly +much damage, wanchee help, eh?” + +“No, thanks,” answered McCaul. “Ship no b’long damage. Can get off at +high water.” + +“Have got plentee coolie makee help,” repeated the visitor. “Plentee +stlong coolie.” + +“No wanchee,” repeated the skipper, who did not like the look of the +man. “No wanchee, savvy?” + +“All light,” said the Chinaman, with an evil grin. “S’pose you wanchee +coolie, I bling.” + +The visitor descended to his sampan, and returned to the junk, which +presently weighed her anchor and returned towards the neighbouring +village. + +“Those fellows are up to no good, sir,” observed Dowell. “That chap had +a revolver under his coat, I saw the bulge it made. And look,” he +continued, pointing towards the village, “something’s evidently in the +wind; you don’t see Chinamen crowding together like that for nothing. I +expect that fellow came aboard to have a look round, and now he’s gone +back to tell the others how many of us there are. His talk about coolies +was only a blind.” + +“Well, I hope not,” answered the captain. “He’ll have seen there are +only six Europeans aboard, counting Jim here. We can’t trust our native +crew to fight.” + +“What d’you propose to do, sir, if they do attack?” asked the mate. + +“Prevent ’em boarding as long as possible, and then if they do get +aboard, we’d better barricade ourselves under the poop. There are +scuttles in the saloon there, and we can fire through them on to the +deck.” + +An hour later three of the native craft anchored off the village hoisted +their sails, and after weighing their anchors came towards the steamer. +One of them, filled with brown-skinned men, circled round, lowered her +sails, and secured to the steamer’s side. Immediately she did so, the +man who had been aboard before, followed by several others, began to +climb the ladder. + +This was the last thing Captain McCaul wanted, and going to the top of +the ladder he waited till the first man’s head appeared. + +“No wanchee,” he said. “_Wilo_”--go away--“no wanchee coolie!” + +The man, however, persisted in trying to come aboard, and not liking the +look of affairs the captain pushed him backwards, intending to force him +down the ladder. + +The Chinaman, however, slipped, and, tumbling backwards with a yell, +suddenly disappeared from view, sweeping several of his friends off the +ladder as he fell. They all descended with a crash on to the deck of the +junk, the other occupants of which gave a series of unearthly howls as +the human avalanche descended. + +At this moment the mate put his head over the side of the ship to enjoy +the fun, but a second later he drew it back in haste, for a shot rang +out, and a bullet whistled close by his head. + +Within a second or two an irregular volley broke out from the other +junks. The enemy were armed with modern weapons. + +The shots were ill-aimed, for though several bullets struck the +superstructure close to where the officers and Jim stood, the greater +number pinged harmlessly through the air overhead. + +At the first discharge, the Chinese crew of the steamer fled in terror, +and shut themselves up in the forecastle, leaving the six Europeans +alone to defend the ship. + +“They mean business!” shouted the captain, dashing to the chartroom and +seizing a rifle. “Cut the ladder adrift, someone!” + +The mate whipped out a knife and sawed at the rope lashing, but the +blade was blunt and the rope tough, and before he was half-way through +one strand, a yellow face, with a long, evil-looking knife between its +teeth, appeared at the ladder top. + +But the stroke never came, for the rope suddenly parted with a crack, +and the man disappeared backwards. + +There was no time for further talking, for the enemy had now opened a +furious fire, while the Europeans, having armed themselves with rifles, +were lying on the deck emptying their magazines at their assailants. +They succeeded in dropping a good many, but the defenders were +outnumbered by more than twenty to one. + +The second mate suddenly sat up with a muttered word. + +“They’ve got me, the devils!” he remarked, clenching his teeth with +pain. “Lucky it’s only through the left arm, so I can still use a +rifle.” + +He bandaged the injured member with his handkerchief and calmly went on +shooting. But the enemy’s fire was becoming more accurate, and at last a +bullet went through the mate’s cap and sent it flying. + +“We must take cover!” exclaimed the captain, noticing what had happened. +“Down on the upper deck, everyone, and take shelter behind the +bulwarks!” + +They got up one by one and dashed down the ladder leading to the deck, +with the bullets flying round them like hail, but they all succeeded in +reaching their haven of refuge without being hit. + +Once behind the bulwarks they were comparatively safe, for no bullet +could penetrate the stout steel, and they only had to expose their +heads to fire. + +The fight went on for a quarter of an hour without any advantage to +either side, when suddenly Jim, happening to glance round, saw a +blue-clad figure with a rifle in its hand slinking along underneath the +bridge. + +The boy wheeled in an instant, brought the weapon to his shoulder, and +fired. The shot went wide, but it served its purpose, for the man +vanished. + +“They’ve boarded us forward, father!” he exclaimed. + +As if to prove the truth of his statement, two more pirates suddenly +appeared in the direction he pointed out. + +“We shall have to barricade ourselves aft,” ejaculated the captain to +the others. “Come on, there’s no time to lose!” + +No sooner said than done. Within two minutes the defenders had entered +the saloon, and after barricading the door with such movable furniture +as they could find, they took up their positions with their rifle +muzzles pointing through the portholes opening out on to the deck. + +For some time nothing happened, and Jim’s eyes grew tired from the glare +of the strong sunlight outside. He waited, however, with rifle ready, +and at last the head and shoulders of a pirate appeared round the corner +of the superstructure. + +He watched intently, and was just about to fire, when there came a wild +yell, and fully twenty pirates came running along the superstructure +deck. + +“Bang--bang! Bang, bang, bang!” went the rifles, and several of the blue +figures fell headlong. But some of them reached the deck untouched, and +taking up a position behind the hatchway coaming, opened a heavy fire. + +Their bullets struck the steel bulkhead with a series of loud clangs, +while Jim at his porthole had a narrow escape, a bullet whistling past +his cheek and shattering a mirror the other end of the saloon. It rather +unnerved him, but still he went on loading and firing, loading and +firing, like a veteran. + +Several more of the enemy had been hit, but before long the second +engineer dropped his weapon with a clatter and clutched at his right +shoulder, through which a bullet had passed. + +His place at the porthole was taken by the second mate, who, though +wounded, could use his rifle, and while the captain bandaged the +engineer, the firing continued. + +The pirates now tried rushing towards the bulkhead, but the defenders’ +steady, accurate fire upset their calculations, and time after time they +were driven back with loss. + +For another hour nothing further happened, and though wild yelling could +be heard in the fore part of the ship, there was no more firing. + +“I expect they’re trying to loot the foremost hold, sir,” remarked +Dowell. “They’ll have a tough job, though,” he remarked, with a grin. +“All the cargo’s in big cases, and they won’t shift them in a hurry.” + +The captain was just about to reply, when Jim, who happened to be taking +a breath of fresh air at one of the portholes in the ship’s side, +suddenly gave a yell of delight. + +“What’s the matter?” asked his father. + +“There’s a ship out at sea,” exclaimed the boy excitedly. + +They all crowded round and gazed in the direction in which he pointed, +and there, sure enough, was a small white vessel steering a course to +round the point of land some distance astern of the steamer. + +So far the Chinese had been too intent upon their loot to notice her, +for there were no signs of movement on the part of the junks. + +“I wonder if she’ll spot us?” queried the skipper anxiously. “Can’t we +think of something to attract her attention?” + +They all looked at each other anxiously, for this was a difficulty they +had not considered. + +But Jim came to the rescue. + +“Father!” he said suddenly, “from her colour I believe she’s a +man-of-war. Why shouldn’t we signal to her?” + +The captain looked at his son. + +“But how d’you propose to do it?” he asked. + +“Signal to ’em by the Morse code,” said Jim. + +No sooner said than done. Round the saloon were the cabins of several of +the officers, and going to all of them in turn Jim purloined all the +walking sticks he could lay his hands upon. He found eight in all, and +lashing them together, succeeded in forming a fairly stout pole about +ten feet in length. Then, tearing a large piece off a white tablecloth, +he secured it to one end, and going to one of the portholes thrust his +improvised flag through it, and began to wave it to and fro in a series +of longs and shorts. + + -- -- -- --,--,-- ---- -- --,-- ---- ---- -- + +it went, spelling out the word HELP time after time. + +But the Chinese had spotted the flag, and before Jim had been at work +for two minutes he heard wild yells, and an instant later the rifles of +his comrades were once more hard at work. + + +II + +H.M. Sloop _Lucifer_ was proceeding towards the Shantung Promontory at a +steady twelve knots. + +On her bridge the lieutenant on watch leant listlessly against a +stanchion, slowly sweeping his telescope from side to side as he gazed +through it at the land on the port bow. He was doing it more from pure +force of habit than anything else, but he suddenly gave vent to a low +exclamation, and, bracing himself up, held his glass perfectly steady. + +“Great Cæsar’s ghost!” he remarked to himself, “there’s a steamer ashore +there with some junks alongside her, and someone’s waving something +white from one of her ports. Short short short short, short, short long +short short, short long long short,” he read out. “Great Scott!” he +exclaimed, “the fellow’s spelling out HELP!” + +He left his position and went amidships, and, leaning over the bridge, +gave an order to the man at the wheel below. + +“Starboard, three points!” + +The helmsman put the wheel over, and while the _Lucifer_ swung round +until her bows were pointing directly towards the stranded vessel, a +messenger was sent to the commander to inform him of what had been +sighted, and, before a minute had passed, he was on the bridge gazing +intently at the stranded ship through his binoculars. + +“It’s my opinion,” he remarked at length, and seeing the white flag +waving to and fro, “that the Chinamen from those junks are giving the +fellows on board that steamer a pretty rotten time. She probably ran +ashore in that fog early this morning, and they’re looting her.” + +He walked across to the engine-room telegraph, and jammed it on to “Full +Speed.” + +“Travers,” he resumed, turning to the officer of the watch, “get a gun’s +crew up and load one of the foremost 4-inch guns.” + +The lieutenant saluted, and a few minutes later the quickfirer had been +cleared away, and its lean muzzle was pointing in the direction of the +steamer. + +It was not until the sloop was within a couple of miles of the wreck +that the pirates noticed her, but the minute they did so they were flung +into a state of frantic confusion, for they could be seen tumbling over +each other in their haste as they clambered down the sides of the +steamer and aboard their junks. + +By the time the _Lucifer_ was within half a mile the clumsy native craft +had hoisted their sails and were speeding back towards the village. + +The commander slowed his engines, and at the same moment hailed the +officer on the forecastle. The gun muzzle quivered until it was pointing +full at the leading junk, now well clear of the _Hoi-Hau_, and a second +later there was a sharp report, a sheet of blinding flame, and a +four-inch shell screeched its way through the air. + + * * * * * + +Aboard the _Hoi-Hau_ things had not been progressing very +satisfactorily. + +Again and again the Chinese had attacked and had been repulsed, but +finally the sheer weight of numbers had told, and when at last the +ammunition of the defenders had dwindled to an alarming degree, the +pirates had succeeded in reaching the bulkhead. + +Once in this position, the British could not fire without exposing +themselves, and the enemy began to beat down the door to get at those +inside. + +Captain McCaul and his officers had made up their minds for the worst, +when Jim suddenly stopped waving his flag. + +“Hurrah!” he yelled. “She’s coming this way!” + +The welcome announcement put new heart into the defenders and they +nerved themselves for a desperate resistance, for the entry of the +Chinese was now a matter of minutes. + +A short time later events took quite an unexpected turn. The enemy, +seeing the approaching man-of-war for the first time, suddenly abandoned +the attack and retreated to their junks, while the defenders, too +thankful to speak, made their way out of the saloon and went on deck. + +Closer and closer came the little sloop, until, when the junks were all +clear of the steamer and had hoisted their sails, she opened fire. The +first shell struck up the water a hundred yards short of the leading +junk, and flew off into the air with a savage whine. + +The pirates redoubled their efforts to escape, shrieking and yelling as +they plied the sweeps to assist the sails. But it was too late, and +their efforts were in vain, for the four-inch gun barked + +[Illustration: “Jim saw the masts of the native craft falling whilst +masses of debris were flung skywards by the force of the powerful +explosive.” + +_To face page 47_ +] + +again, and this time the projectile hit the leading junk full in the +stern. + +Jim had a fleeting glimpse of a sheet of flame; he saw the masts of the +native craft falling, whilst masses of debris were flung skywards by the +force of the powerful explosive. + +When the smoke cleared away the junk was barely recognisable, for she +lay low in the water like a derelict, and already the flames were +licking at her battered timbers. + +Another sharp report came from the sloop, and this time the shot pitched +into the water under the bows of a second enemy. + +The Chinese then realised that the game was up, for, lowering the sails, +most of them jumped overboard and began to swim for the shore, while +before very long the _Lucifer’s_ boats, filled with armed bluejackets, +were taking possession of the abandoned craft. + +Soon afterwards the commander of the sloop came aboard the _Hoi-Hau_. + +“Good morning, captain,” he said, advancing towards McCaul, and glancing +round the decks in astonishment. “You seem to have been having a pretty +bad time.” + +“If you hadn’t come,” said the skipper gratefully, wringing his +visitor’s hand, “they’d have broken down the door and murdered the lot +of us.” + +“By the way,” remarked the commander, “Who was that fellow of yours +making signals to us?” + +“Here he is,” replied McCaul, pushing Jim forward. “He’s my son.” + +“It’s lucky you made that signal, youngster,” said the naval officer. +“We’d spotted you all right, but if you hadn’t waved your flag we might +have been too late. Where did you learn your Morse, by the way?” + +“I’m a Scout, sir,” Jim explained, blushing furiously. + +“Just as well you are, my boy,” said the officer with a twinkle in his +eye. “You ought to be proud of your son, captain,” he resumed, turning +to McCaul. + +“Proud!” laughed the skipper. “Proud! Of course I am!” + + * * * * * + +When the tide rose, the _Hoi-Hau_ floated off the rocks with but little +damage, and before long was once more on her voyage to Chifu. + +The bluejackets of the sloop succeeded in capturing the greater number +of the pirates, and it was subsequently found that they belonged to a +notorious band who had preyed on the defenceless trading junks for some +time past. + +Jim, as may well be imagined, has never forgotten his one and only brush +with pirates. + + + + +III + +THE GUNNER’S LUCK + + (The following story is not mere fiction, for the events therein + described actually occurred during the South African War.) + + +H.M. Torpedo-boat Number 60 was pursuing her way northward along the +western coast of Cape Colony at a steady ten knots. As a matter of fact +the exact course was N.N.W., and this took the little craft along +parallel to the coast and some fifteen miles off it, while Robben +Island, thirty miles to the northward of Capetown, had been abeam at +noon, so the ship was well on her way up the coast in the direction of +Cape Castle. + +It was a beautiful afternoon, with a clear blue sky, unflecked by the +least vestige of cloud, while the sun overhead converted the sea into +one vast expanse of shimmering light. There was a gentle breeze from the +south-east, but it was not sufficient to raise a sea, and the great +ocean was only disturbed by a slight swell rolling in from the westward, +over which the little torpedo-boat rode with an easy movement. + +It was 1901, when the South African War was at its height and the whole +of Cape Colony and Natal was one great military camp. The daily arrival +of transports had come to be looked upon as a mere matter of routine, +for the war had been going on for eighteen months. The Navy, too, was +not idle, for many men belonging to the Cape of Good Hope Squadron had +been at the front with their guns, fighting side by side with their +soldier comrades, while the coasts of Cape Colony and Natal had also to +be patrolled. + +There were at that time comparatively few ships on the Cape station, and +as many hundreds of miles of coast had to be covered, all the +torpedo-boats in reserve at the naval base at Simonstown had been +requisitioned for this service, and though hardly suitable for the task, +they performed their work with a thoroughness which left nothing to be +desired. Through lack of lieutenants the greater number of them were +commanded by gunners, and No. 60, the little vessel with which we are +concerned, was in charge of Mr. Samuel Hyne, a warrant officer of this +rank. + +Small as she was, he was proud of her, and though her 65 tons +displacement, her 127-1/2 feet of length, her 15 men, and her armament +of four 14-inch torpedo tubes, besides one three-pounder Hotchkiss and a +solitary 45-inch maxim, made her a very puny and insignificant little +craft, she was, in Hyne’s eyes, quite the smartest thing afloat flying +the White Ensign. He was proud of her, for his pennant flew at her +masthead, and though in 1886, when she first saw the light of day, she +could do her 20-1/2 knots with her single screw, and now could steam no +more than, as he himself would call it, “eighteen and a kick,” he +revelled, like many others, in the delights of his first independent +command. + +Close alongside the after torpedo tubes, and near the hatch leading to +the stuffy wardroom, the skipper sat on a camp stool having a friendly +yarn with the chief engine-room artificer, Watson, who, though only a +chief petty officer, was the engineer of the ship. It was hardly +possible to tell the chief E.R.A. from his commanding officer, for both +were clad in nothing but trousers and singlets open at the neck. It was +noticeable, though, that the engineer never omitted the “Sir” when +addressing his senior, even though the two men were close friends. + +“It’s all very well for you to say I’m lucky to have this job,” the +gunner was saying. “I dare say I am, but lucky or not, I’d far sooner +have had a chance of getting to the front!” + +“Yes,” nodded the chief E.R.A., reaching for his tobacco pouch, “but if +you ’ad, sir, maybe you’d a got a bullet through you, same as Mister +McFiggis, o’ the _Doris_, did up at Graspan. ’E was full o’ beans when +’e left the ship, but ’e nearly pegged out in ’orspital. Lor’ bless me +’eart an’ soul, ’e didn’t want no more soldierin’. Lor’ lumme, no!” + +“I wouldn’t mind running the risk of that,” answered Hyne, “if only I +had the chance of doing something. They’ll get medals and bars, and +distinguished service orders, and goodness only knows what, and I’m +busted if we’ll get so much as a bloomin’ ‘thank you’ for patrolling +this blessed coast. Not so much as a thank you,” he reiterated +mournfully, glancing at the dull purple serrated edge of the mountains +away on the starboard beam. “I’m sick of it all!” + +“Well, it’s not your fault, sir,” went on the chief E.R.A. “You can’t do +more’n obey your orders, an’ if you don’t get your chance you don’t, and +that’s all about it.” + +The gunner laughed, and both men relapsed into a silence which was only +broken by the gentle ripple of the water as the torpedo-boat forced her +way through it. + +The afternoon wore on, and at four o’clock Hyne went forward to relieve +the coxswain on watch. The orders were turned over, and the petty +officer went aft to his little cupboard of a mess, and was soon busy +with his tea, which meal consisted of stale bread, fried eggs of +doubtful origin, and well-stewed navy tea with no milk, for in those +days condensed milk was not served out by a paternal Government. + +It was about one bell in the first dog-watch (4.30 p.m.) that the +gunner, who was gazing abstractedly at the distant land, felt a sudden +tremor from the after part of the ship. At first he paid no attention to +it, for the little ship always vibrated badly, but when there came an +awful bump, followed by a jarring grind, and then a fearful clatter from +the neighbourhood of the engine-room, he realised something serious had +happened, and commenced to run aft. + +He was just in time to see the chief E.R.A. disappear down the +engine-room hatch like a shot rabbit, while the coxswain, with an +anxious face, was climbing up the ladder from his mess. + +“What’s happened?” cried Hyne. + +“I don’t rightly know, sir,” answered Naylor, the coxswain. “Me an’ th’ +chief was sittin’ in th’ mess when we ’ears a bump an’ then a grindin’, +an’ then th’ engines start ’eavin’ round fit ter bust!” + +Descending the greasy ladder, the gunner went below into the +engine-room. Seeing a group of perspiring men in the after part of the +little compartment, he went up to them. + +“What’s the matter?” he asked. + +“Shaft’s gone clean in half, sir,” said Watson, looking up. + +“Lord help us!” gasped the skipper. “Is it possible to do anything to +it?” + +“No, sir,” replied Watson, wiping his perspiring face with a bit of +dirty oily waste until it was streaked with black. “It’s a proper +dockyard job I’m afraid, it’s gone clean across!” + +“Are we making any water?” + +“Don’t think so, sir,” said the other. “If we had a’ been it ’ud found +its way for’ard by this time. It’ll have strained the stern gland a bit, +but the broken part of the shaft’s still there, and I expect I can keep +the flow under with the ejectors.” + +“I hope you can,” remarked Hyne, “but let’s go aft and have a look.” + +They left the engine-room, and going aft along the upper deck visited +all the stern compartments in turn. + +“There’s no damage to speak of,” said Watson, when the survey was +completed. “Th’ gland’s weeping a bit more’n usual, an’ one or two rivet +heads are sheared off an’ one or two plates a bit buckled. We can keep +the water under all right, an’ I’ll get th’ ejectors workin’ at once. +But we can’t steam another inch, of course.” + +He vanished below, and while he set the pumps to work Hyne thought over +the situation. He was placed in a most unenviable position, for No. 60, +having, like the majority of the older torpedo-boats, only one screw, +was absolutely helpless with her tail shaft fractured. Even if they had +a spare length of shafting it could not be placed in position. He grew +pale as he thought of what might happen. The mighty Agulhas current +would carry the disabled ship to the northward, and though he had food +and water sufficient for perhaps a week’s consumption if he put the men +on half rations, affairs still looked pretty desperate, unless some +passing steamer gave the torpedo-boat a tow into harbour. She was, +however, out of the track of steamers running to Capetown, and her size +did not make her a very conspicuous object. + +The one small dinghy the little vessel carried would not accommodate +more than eight of her men at the very outside, and if the ship had to +be abandoned the other men would have to be towed astern in life-buoys, +while their progress would naturally be slow, and their chance of +reaching the coast, twenty miles distant, doubtful in the extreme. Even +allowing that it was possible, the sea was infested with sharks, so Hyne +dismissed the idea as impossible almost as soon as he thought of it. + +Going aft he was met by the coxswain. + +“Get the ship’s company aft, Naylor,” he ordered. + +“Aye, aye, sir.” + +Soon afterwards the little crew had been collected, and, stepping +forward, the petty officer reported, “Ship’s company present, sir,” in +his best battleship manner. + +“Men,” began Hyne, getting on to the after torpedo tube, “I’ve not +brought you up here to spin a long yarn. You all know what’s happened, +and that we’re practically helpless twenty miles from land, and out of +the track of shipping. We’ve got three days’ grub on board, say four +with what we’ve got in the wardroom, so, in case of accidents, we’ll +pool the lot and put everyone on half whack! + +“It’s a poor look out, I don’t mind telling you,” he went on to say, +“but still we’ve a chance. The weather’s fine, and though we can’t +steam, we can sail.... + +“Yes,” he said, noticing that the men were looking at each other in +surprise, “I daresay sailing a torpedo-boat sounds strange, but it’s got +to be done! Saldanha Bay’s the best place to make for, it’s about thirty +miles nor’-east of us, and as the wind’s freshening every minute and +going round to the southward, we’ll have it on the starboard quarter. We +must buckle to, and rig up a couple of extra masts--bearing out spars’ll +do--and we must cut up every bit o’ canvas in the ship, and make it into +sails. Four hours at the outside must see us under way, and though we +shan’t go very fast, I hope we’ll make Saldanha Bay some time to-morrow. +That’s all I’ve got to say, and now I want you to buckle to and rig up +the masts and make the sails.” + +The men cheered as he dismissed them, and before long they were hard at +work furling the awnings while the storerooms were burgled for every +inch of canvas they contained. Presently those of the men who could use +a sail-maker’s palm and needle were busy sewing the lengths together, +while others placed and stayed the spars to serve as main and mizzen +masts, for the torpedo-boat only carried one stumpy mast forward. + +By eight o’clock, when the sun sank to rest beneath the western horizon +in a blaze of scarlet and gold, everything was ready except the sails. + +“Come on, lads! Bear a hand!” shouted Hyne cheerfully to encourage the +men sewing, and noting with satisfaction that the breeze from the +southward was momentarily freshening. “We must get sail on her as soon +as we can!” The bluejackets worked with a will, and half an hour later a +small jib and triangular trysail were set on the foremast. They were +anything but well cut or shapely, for they had been made out of the +awning, but still they served their purpose, for as soon as they were +hoisted the wind bellied them out, and the little vessel heeled over and +began to move through the water. + +“Steer east-nor’-east!” said Hyne to the coxswain, as the latter ran +forward to take the wheel, and, as the rudder went over, the skipper saw +with satisfaction that the ship answered her helm. + +By nine o’clock it was pitch dark, and the stars had begun to twinkle in +the dark blue of the sky overhead, and soon afterwards the other sails +were ready, and were set on the spars serving as main and mizzen masts. +The torpedo-boat slipped still faster through the water, until she was +making about four knots, while the men, highly satisfied with their +work, had their frugal supper of stale bread and bully beef. + +The hours dragged wearily by, but by midnight the breeze had developed +into a strong wind, which still blew from the same direction. The sea, +however, had got up, and the little ship wallowed + +[Illustration: “He saw to his inexpressible relief that the entrance to +Saldanha Bay was in sight.” + +_To face page 57_ +] + +heavily as she crawled along at her leisurely gait, but as the stars +still shone it did not appear as if the weather was going to get any +worse. The gunner and coxswain spent the whole night on deck, and at +five o’clock the next morning the first signs of dawn appeared over a +serrated band of obscurity on the horizon which could only be land. +Hyne, exhausted as he was, felt quite cheerful when he saw it, and when +daylight came he saw, to his inexpressible relief, that the entrance to +Saldanha Bay was in sight a short distance to the northward. + +Two hours later the crippled torpedo-boat crawled into the harbour, and +passing several steamers and sailing craft at anchor, whose crews broke +into ironical cheers as she crept by, finally dropped her anchor off the +settlement. + +“Well, sir,” remarked the chief E.R.A. to Hyne, as the latter went aft +towards the wardroom hatch, “you’ve had your chance all right, if you’ll +excuse my saying so, sir, and I reckon the Admiral’ll have something +nice to say to you when we get back to Simonstown.” + +“Nice!” sniffed Hyne. “Nice indeed! I expect he’ll order me to be +court-martialled on the spot because the shaft broke. Endangering one of +His Majesty’s ships, and all the rest of it!” + +“I ’ope not!” declared Watson, dropping his h’s in his nervousness. +“Hindeed! I ’ope not!” + +“Well, we’ll see,” said the gunner, going down the ladder; “but +meanwhile I’m going to send a wire reporting what has happened.” + + * * * * * + +A week later H.M. Torpedo-boat No. 60 arrived at Simonstown behind the +second-class cruiser which had been sent to Saldanha Bay to tow her +back. The news of her vicissitudes was already common property, and as +she passed by, the men-of-war on her way to the dockyard, a string of +coloured bunting crept to the masthead of the flagship and fluttered out +in the breeze. An instant later the sides and rigging of the war vessels +were black with men, and as No. 60 passed cheer after cheer rang out +across the water. + +“What the deuce do they want to make all that shindy about?” growled +Hyne, who, if the truth must be told, felt rather relieved at the +reception. + +“I expects you’ll find out orl rite when yer reports yer arrival to the +Admiral, sir,” murmured the coxswain. + +An hour later the gunner was reporting his arrival to the Admiral on +board the flagship. The Commander-in-Chief got up from the table at +which he was writing. + +“I’m glad to see you back, Mr. Hyne,” he said graciously, shaking hands. +“I’m glad you came out of it all right. Let me hear all about it; your +wire didn’t give me much news beyond the fact that you’d broken down and +had ... er, sailed your torpedo-boat into Saldanha Bay.” + +The story was soon told, and when the narrative was complete the Admiral +rose from his chair. + +“Mr. Hyne,” he said, “I congratulate you. I knew when I appointed you to +No. 60 you’d do well, but I never expected this. I shall forward a +report of your conduct to the Admiralty.” + +“Thank you, sir!” gasped the astonished Hyne, his face turning the +colour of a beet. + +“And,” continued the Commander-in-Chief, “I shall be very pleased if you +will come and dine at Admiralty House to-night. My wife will be +interested in your story, and I’m afraid you’ll have to tell it all over +again.” + + * * * * * + +Six weeks later Hyne was sitting on the deck of his little command, +which was on the torpedo-boat slip in the dockyard, after having been +fitted with a new screw shaft. It was a hot day, and he was half dozing +in his chair with his pipe between his teeth, when he was roused by the +sound of shouting from forward. Presently the signalman came running aft +with a signal pad in his hand. + +“What’s all the noise about forward?--tell ’em to stop it at once,” said +Hyne. + +“Signal, sir,” said the man, “just come from the flagship. Reads +‘Admiralty informs me that Mr. Samuel Hyne, gunner, has been promoted to +the rank of lieutenant. I am sure that all officers and men under my +command will congratulate this officer on his well-merited promotion.’” + +“Good Lord!” gasped the newly-made lieutenant, hardly able to believe +his ears. “Are you quite certain it is all right? Perhaps someone’s +pulling my leg.” + +“No, sir, they ain’t,” declared the signalman, breaking into a grin, +“an’ th’ signal goes on to say: ‘Chief Engine-room Artificer Jeremiah +Watson is advanced to the rank of Artificer Engineer!’” + +“What’s that?” said a voice, as the chief E.R.A.’s head appeared on +deck. “Let’s have a look. Are you sure it ain’t a ’oax?” + +“’Oax, ’oax!” exclaimed the man; “beggin’ yer pardon, sir, the Admiral +ain’t goin’ ter pull yer leg!” + +He handed the signal pad across as he spoke. + +“It’s all right,” said Hyne breathlessly. “I congratulate you, Mr. +Watson.” + +“Same here, Lieutenant Hyne,” said the other. “Didn’t I say, sir, as how +they wouldn’t forget you? Aren’t you a jolly sight better off than +Mister McFiggis, who got a bullet through ’im at Graspan?... Lor’ save +us, though!” he added, “I didn’t know as I ’ad done anythink!” + +“No, but I did, though,” said the new lieutenant, as he went below to +figure out how much it would cost him to send a lengthy cable home to +his wife in England. + + + + +IV + +HORATIO NELSON CHIVERS + + +I + +“Well, Mister Mate,” remarked Captain Sims, rubbing his hands with +satisfaction, “the noon sights give her an average of ten and a half +knots since noon yesterday. Pretty good goin’!” + +“Good!” replied the mate. “I should think it was, sir! This old hooker +isn’t exactly in her childhood.” + +The master laughed. “Well,” he said, “I’ll go below and get my dinner, +and after that I shall be in my room. I’ve a lot of work to get +through.” + +The mate nodded and smiled, for he knew well that the captain’s “work” +was done lying down on his bunk with both eyes shut, and with an +accompaniment of something which sounded suspiciously like snoring. + +“Keep her goin’ sou’-sou’-east,” concluded the “old man,” moving down +the poop ladder, “and let me know if you sight anything.” + +“Aye, aye, sir!” said Meryon, as the skipper disappeared. + +The steamer _Evelyn MacDonald_ was pursuing her leisurely way southward +through the North Atlantic, on a voyage from London to Sydney, via the +Cape of Good Hope. She carried a valuable general cargo, and up to the +present the voyage had been eminently successful, for no contrary gales +or heavy seas had retarded her progress. The vessel, a steam tramp of +elderly build and sluggish demeanour, was surpassing herself, for though +nine and a half or ten knots was her usual speed, the patent log dial on +her taffrail was now registering no less than 10·5. + +The weather was certainly beautiful, and, though there was hardly a +cloud overhead in the sky to dim the brilliancy of the sun, the welcome +breeze, ruffling the surface of the sea until it looked like a vast +spread of sapphire-coloured velvet, mitigated the fierce rays from +above. Life on board, therefore, even though the ship was only a few +degrees north of the equator, was bearable, and even pleasant. + +It had gone one bell in the afternoon watch, and the crew had finished +their midday meal and were lolling about on the forecastle in various +lethargic attitudes. Some were smoking and talking, but others had +dropped off to sleep with their pipes between their teeth. + +“What I likes about this ’ere ship,” one of them remarked to a friend, +“is that we ’ave no bloomin’ dagoes aboard. We’re hall Henglish, +leastways British, an’ I reckon there’s precious few other ’ookers +flyin’ th’ Red Duster as can say that!” + +“That’s so, mate,” replied another seaman, whose red hair had earned for +him the inevitable nickname of “Ginger.” “I reckon we’ve struck ile this +trip orl rite.” + +“’Allo, there’s ’Oratio!” observed the first speaker, as the cook’s boy +came out of the galley amidships and flung a bucket of dirty water over +the ship’s side. + +“’Allo, ’Oratio, me son,” cried Ginger, “’ow are ye gettin’ on dahn +there? ’Ow’s th’ ole water spoiler inside?” The “water spoiler,” +needless to remark, was the cook himself, Horatio’s immediate superior. + +The boy--Horatio Nelson Chivers, to give him his full name--had been +signed on as assistant and general bottle-washer to the cook at the last +moment before the ship left England. The mate, seeing him loafing round +the quay before the _Evelyn MacDonald_ sailed, had taken him on out of +pure compassion, rather than with the idea that he would be of any use; +and, if the truth must be told, Horatio Nelson was about as scraggy and +as weedy a looking individual as it is possible to imagine. + +He was an undersized youth of about fifteen--he didn’t know his real +age--whose origin was wrapped in the realms of mystery, and though he +knew his surname was Chivers and his Christian names, through some freak +on the part of his mother and father, were Horatio Nelson, he was quite +unacquainted with his parents, and was unaware who they had been, where +they had lived, or where he himself had been born. For years he had +contrived to make ends meet by selling newspapers in London, a +precarious existence which often as not left him without the wherewithal +to satisfy his gnawing hunger; but all his spare time was spent down at +the docks in the East End, for he loved ships and everything to do with +them. He had fully determined to become a sailor, perhaps because he +was named after the greatest Admiral the world has ever known, but he +had never been more surprised than when the mate of the _Evelyn +MacDonald_, seeing a veritable scarecrow of a boy standing on the jetty +close to the ship, asked him if he wanted to sign on. + +He jumped at the opportunity with thankfulness in his heart, for he was +desperately sick of the great city, and, above all, of endeavouring to +sell newspapers to people who did not want them. He longed to be at sea, +to see something of the world, and though he would have preferred to +enter the Royal Navy, a bird in the hand was worth several in the bush, +and he revelled in the idea of having regular meals. It is true that Mr. +Meryon had given the boy the chance because he looked so utterly +miserable, forlorn and wretched; but though the officer’s feelings had +outweighed his judgment, it must be admitted he had never had cause to +regret it, for ’Oratio, as he was familiarly called, was the life and +soul of the ship, and was as cute and knowing as the day is long. + +The youth shook the last few drops out of his bucket and then looked +towards the forecastle. + +“Cheero, Ginger!” he remarked, familiarly. “’Ow’s yer Rile ’Ighness +gettin’ on?” + +“’Oo are you callin’ Ginger?” demanded the seaman, not liking the +allusion to the colour of his hair. “Ain’t I told yer my name’s Smith? +Mister bloomin’ Smith, too, from the likes o’ you?” + +“There’s ony one Ginger in this ’ere ship!” retorted Horatio innocently. +“’Is Majesty King Ginger--King o’ all th’ Nuts!” + +“Ho, hindeed!” snorted the King of the Nuts. “Look ’ere, Mister ’Oratio +bloomin’ Nelson Chivers, or whatever yer darned tally is, I don’t stand +no sauce from the likes o’ you! I’ve told yer ’afore I’ll ’ave none o’ +yer imperence!” + +“Won’t yer?” said the boy in mock surprise, making a deep obeisance. + +“No, I won’t, yer young shaver, so just you keep a civil tongue in yer +’ead!” + +“Orl rite, cully, keep yer ’air on!” drawled Horatio, disappearing into +the galley. + +“Drat th’ boy,” muttered Smith good-naturedly. “That ’Oratio o’ ourn is +a cure, an’ no bloomin’ herror. King o’ th’ Nuts, hindeed!” + +“’E’s a cheeky young divil!” agreed one of the other men, pushing down +the tobacco in his pipe with a horny forefinger. “’E’s abart th’ +bloomin’ limit, takin’ ’im orl round. ’E’s fillin’ art somethin’ +wonderful, though,” he added with pride, for they all looked upon +Horatio as belonging to them. “D’ye remember th’ wizened little +scarecrow ’e was when ’e signed on?” + +“Huh!” snorted Ginger. “Fillin’ art! ’E can’t bloomin’ well ’elp +’isself! Just look at th’ amount of scran ’e stows away in that little +stummick o’ ’is! ’E’s---- Wot in ’evin’s that?” he suddenly broke off, +as something round and hard hit him in the ribs. “S’welp me!” he added +an instant later, picking up a potato. “It’s a spud!” + +“’Oratio’s bombardin’ yer from th’ galley,” said his companion with a +grin. + +“I’ll give ’im ’Oratio when I catch ’im,” muttered Smith, leaping to his +feet. “’Ere, you young swabtail!” he bellowed, catching sight of the boy +with another missile ready to throw. “’Ere, give over chuckin’ them +spuds!” + +The boy’s reply came promptly, for another potato hurled through the air +and hit his enemy fair and square on the shoulder. Ginger instantly +dashed to the forecastle ladder with the intention of pursuing and +chastising his assailant, but the latter, seeing him coming, had already +vanished into the galley like a streak of greased lightning. + +Further hostilities were interrupted by the bosun coming forward along +the upper deck. + +“Come on, lads, time’s up!” he shouted. + +Ginger Smith was forced to postpone active operations upon Horatio to a +more suitable opportunity, and while the boy sniggered with glee in his +galley, the recumbent figures on the forecastle rose, stretched +themselves, and were soon told off for their work for the afternoon. + +“Gah!” shouted the precocious youth, putting his head out of the galley +with a grimace as Smith passed with a paint-pot and brushes. “Look at +th’ King o’ th’ Nuts goin’ to paint ’is pallus! Thought ye’d catch me, +did yer?” He put his thumb to his nose and extended his fingers. + +“You wait, my son!” muttered Smith wrathfully. “I’ll knock seven bells +out o’ yer bloomin’ little carcase when I do get ’old o’ yer!” + +He marched on aft, with Horatio making faces at him behind his back. + + +II + +The afternoon wore on, and at about 3 p.m. a black smudge of smoke +appeared over the horizon astern. It got larger and larger, spreading up +in the clear sky like a mushroom-shaped cloud, until eventually the hull +of a ship could be seen looming up in the distance. As yet she was too +far off for details to be noticed, but the dense volumes of smoke +issuing from her funnels showed that she was travelling fast. She +overhauled the _Evelyn MacDonald_ rapidly, and by four o’clock was only +four or five miles astern. + +The captain had already been called and had come on the poop, and was +gazing intently at her through a pair of binoculars. + +“She’s a man-of-war, by the look of her,” he remarked to the mate. +“Three funnels, so far as I can see, and painted dark grey.” + +“She’ll be British,” answered Meryon. “Our men-of-war are that colour. I +can’t see any ensign, though. By Jove!” he added in admiration; “she’s +going a pretty good lick. Look at her bow wave!” + +“She’s altering her course to close us,” observed the skipper, as the +approaching vessel yawed lightly to starboard. “Stand by with your +signal books and flags. I expect she wants to communicate.” + +Soon afterwards the strange cruiser, for such, from her three funnels, +she evidently was, was close astern. + +“She’s not British!” exclaimed the mate confidently. “We’ve no craft in +our navy like that!” + +“What in earth is she, then?” demanded the skipper rather testily. “What +does a bloomin’ foreigner want to come nosin’ round us for? Hoist the +ens’n; perhaps she’ll hoist hers!” + +The Red Ensign crept up to the peak, where it streamed out a vivid +scarlet patch against the deep blue of the sky. The man-of-war may have +noticed it, but if she did she made no sign of having done so, for she +still came on at the same speed. + +“By Jove!” cried the mate an instant later. “She’s a German!” He had +just seen the ensign at the stranger’s gaff, where hitherto it had been +hidden in her belching smoke. + +“Yes,” returned the skipper, busy with a telescope. “She’s got a signal +flying, too. L Q,” he added, picking out the colours of the flags. “Look +it out in the book!” + +“Heave to!” exclaimed Meryon in absolute astonishment, running his +finger down the page and finding the place. + +“Heave to!” snorted the skipper incredulously. “Can’t be! Let’s have a +look!” + +“It’s quite right, sir,” replied the mate, showing him the meaning. + +“Heave to!” ejaculated the captain, with rising wrath. “What right has a +bloomin’ foreigner to order us to heave to?” + +“Don’t know, sir. Perhaps she’s made a mistake,” replied Meryon; but his +voice sounded rather apprehensive. + +“Mistake or not,” snapped the skipper, “I’m jiggered if I’ll heave to! +I’ve never heard such a cursed bit o’ impertinence in my life!” He gazed +over the taffrail and shook his fist wrathfully at the oncoming +stranger, now barely four hundred yards behind. + +Hardly had he done so, when a spit of flame broke out from the +forecastle of the man-of-war. There was a loud report, and then, with a +savage whine, a projectile hurtled through the air past the steamer and +buried itself in the sea a hundred yards away to port. + +The skipper glared at the spout of foam with absolute amazement and +bewilderment written on his face. + +“What the devil does she mean?” he roared, his face whitening with rage. +“Firing on us! We’re not at war! I’ve never heard of such a thing!” He +had great difficulty in controlling his wrath. + +The mate, too, was struck dumb with astonishment, and stared at the +cruiser with his mouth wide open. There really was something rather +amazing in the idea of a German man-of-war stopping a British merchant +ship on the high seas, but there was no mistaking the meaning of her +peremptory demand. + +“That gun, sir,” he remarked at length, “was meant to make us heave to!” + +“I suppose it was, the beastly pirates!” muttered the captain angrily. +“Well,” he continued, “it’s no use being sunk!” He wrenched the +engine-room telegraph over to “Stop” as he spoke. + +Hearing the report of the gun, the officers and men of the steamer were +already on deck, gazing at the foreign warship with surprise and +astonishment on their faces. The cruiser had now slowed down, and a +minute later, when the _Evelyn MacDonald_ had slowed down, the grey +man-of-war slid up abreast of her and barely two hundred yards off. The +twin propellers churned the water into foam as they went astern at full +speed, and then there came the piping of a boatswain’s whistle as a boat +was lowered. + +The crew of the _Evelyn MacDonald_ were clustered on deck hurling +strange curses at the foreigner, while one or two of the more +belligerent ones, Horatio, who had armed himself with the cook’s meat +chopper, among them, were saying what they proposed to do to the +boarding party when they should come on board. + +“I’ll catch ’im a slosh on th’ jaw ’e won’t forgit in a ’urry!” piped +the boy, feeling the edge of his weapon. + +There was no doubt they all meant what they said, and realising that, if +they offered resistance, the man-of-war would probably retaliate, Sims +sent the mate forward to prevent them doing any mischief. + +The cutter presently drew alongside. To the captain’s utter disgust, he +was forced to lower a rope ladder, and then an officer, armed with sword +and revolver, clambered on deck. He was followed by half a dozen seamen +carrying loaded rifles, two of whom promptly made their way to the poop, +where they took charge of the wheel, while the other four rounded up the +crew of the steamer and made them hold their hands above their heads by +threatening them with their weapons. + +“What is the meaning of this outrage?” thundered the skipper, advancing +threateningly on the single foreigner who confronted him. + +The officer’s hand slid to his revolver holster, which he unbuttoned +ostentatiously. + +“This is rank piracy!” bellowed Sims again. + +“You do not know that Germany and England are at war?” asked the visitor +in excellent English, glancing at the Red Ensign overhead and fingering +his weapon. + +“What?” snorted Sims, with a sniff of rage. + +The foreigner smiled slightly and nodded. + +“War? But what’s war been declared about?” asked the captain amazed. + +“That is not my affair,” answered the foreigner. “I do my duty without +asking why!” + +“Why, man,” the Englishman remarked, his amusement almost getting the +better of his annoyance, “you’ll have the whole of our navy buzzin’ +round your ears in no time!” + +“We will fight!” retorted the foreigner with impatience. + +“Humph!” muttered the skipper. “The deuce you will! Meanwhile, may I ask +what you mean to do with this ship?” + +“Our navy has orders to sink and destroy the British fleet, and to +capture or burn all merchant ships!” + +Sims gasped. + +“Yes,” continued the lieutenant grandiloquently. “A prize crew shall be +put on board, and she shall be taken to Duala!” + +“But I’m not carrying contraband of war!” protested the captain, longing +to go for the foreigner with his fists. + +“All the English are our enemies!” declared the other. “Come,” he +continued rudely, “I am not used to bandy words with a merchant captain. +I wish to see your papers, and I must warn you that, if there is any +attempt at resistance, my ship will fire on you!” + +Sims’s longing to strike out almost got the better of him, but he saw +that it was no use arguing any further, so swallowed the insult without +replying. + +“Come on,” he said gruffly, leading the way to his cabin. + +The foreign officer beckoned to one of his men before he disappeared +under the poop, and a minute or two later the Red Ensign was hauled down +and replaced by the white black-crossed ensign of the German navy. + +Seeing it, the anger of the British crew nearly overcame them, and for +some moments their insensate rage tempted them to attack their captors. +They cursed and swore fluently, but eventually their discretion got the +upper hand, for they saw how useless it was to resist. + +An hour later the ship had been taken possession of by a prize crew of +fifteen men and a warrant officer, under the command of a lieutenant. +Having transferred them, the cruiser proceeded on her way, and, +threatened by the revolvers and rifles of their gaolers, the unfortunate +Englishmen were compelled to go to their posts and work their vessel, +steering towards the south-east for her new destination. + +This having been done, the captain and officers were locked in their +respective cabins, the crew were driven down into the forecastle, while +armed sentries pacing the deck effectually prevented any +intercommunication. + +The _Evelyn MacDonald_ was a prize. + + +III + +The next morning the ship was still standing to the south-eastward on +her course for Duala. + +The lieutenant in command was a better-tempered individual than the +officer who had first come on board, and intimated to Captain Sims that +he and his officers would be permitted to use the saloon for their +meals, while they would also be allowed one hour’s exercise on deck in +the morning and afternoon. He informed him, however, that any abuse of +this privilege would be visited by more rigorous treatment, and that if +any attempt were made to capture the vessel, the prisoners would +instantly be fired upon. The only members of the crew who were not +confined were Horatio and the steward, for they, between them, were +responsible for the cooking and serving of all the meals throughout the +ship, for captors and prisoners alike. Even they, however, were closely +watched, for there was always an armed sentry somewhere near the galley +while they were at work. + +Horatio went about his labours in a despondent manner, which formed a +complete contrast to his cheery disposition of a week before. He had +plenty to do, but chafed at the idea of being ordered about by +foreigners, and every time he looked at the foreign flag flying at the +peak his blood boiled with mingled rage and humiliation. Puny and +insignificant as he was, he was British to the core. British blood +flowed in his veins, and he seriously thought of attacking the sentries +single-handed with his chopper. He even asked the steward’s advice as to +how it could best be done, but the older man, realising the utter +futility of such an attempt, made him, after great difficulty, promise +that he would not try it. + +Foiled in his ideas of active measures, the boy then set to work to +think of some other way of recapturing the ship. Scheme after scheme was +evolved in his busy brain to be cast aside as useless, but suddenly, +two days later, an idea, a great and glorious idea, flashed into his +mind. He determined to try it. + +Captain Sims in his cabin was also thinking out plan after plan to +regain possession of the ship, but he gave them all up in turn as +hopeless, for arms or ammunition he had none, and he knew well enough +that the minute an attack was made the English would be shot down with +ruthless indifference. + +On the morning of the third day after the capture, he realised that the +anxiety and the unusual sedentary life were beginning to make him +positively ill. Instead of turning out for breakfast, therefore, he +remained in his bunk, and soon afterwards someone came to his cabin +door, unlocked it, and announced that breakfast was ready. + +“Is that you, Chivers?” he called. + +“Yus, sir,” said the boy, opening the door and putting his head in. + +“Look here. I’m feeling a bit seedy this mornin’. You might bring my +meals in here on a tray, will you?” + +“Yus, sir,” said the urchin. + +Ten minutes later he returned with a well-laden tray. + +“Capten, sir,” he whispered, when he had laid out his master’s +breakfast. + +“Hallo, sonny! What is it?” asked Sims. + +The boy bent his head down until his lips were close to the captain’s +ear. + +“Please, sir,” he began, “’ave we any---- Yus, sir, quite a fine day!” +he suddenly remarked in his ordinary voice, for his sharp ear had heard +footsteps outside. + +For an instant the skipper was surprised, for he could not guess the +meaning of the youth’s manœuvre. Then it suddenly flashed across his +mind, and he realised the boy had something important to tell him. They +went on talking naturally, until the footsteps died away. + +“Now, Chivers,” said Sims softly, “what is it?” + +“Please, sir,” whispered the boy, “’ave we any drugs aboard?” + +“Drugs? Whatever for?” + +“Ter lay art them blighted foreigners, sir!” exclaimed the blood-thirsty +Horatio. “Me an’ th’ stooard cooks orl their grub, an’ I thought as ’ow +we cud drug it, sir!” His eyes twinkled with excitement as he unfolded +his idea. + +“What?” whispered the captain, seeing a ray of hope. “And then recapture +the ship while they’re asleep? Is that what you mean?” + +The urchin nodded, and anxiously awaited the captain’s verdict. + +Horatio, in the literature of the “penny dreadful” type he was so fond +of reading, had often come across cases where the villains achieved +their nefarious ends by drugging their victims, and he did not see why +the same scheme should not be carried out on this occasion. + +Sims thought hard for a minute or two before replying. Then a pleased +smile flitted across his face, and he patted the boy on the shoulder. + +“Boy,” he said at last, “you’re a cunning little devil!” + +Horatio blushed with pleasure. + +Sims went on in a low voice: “I don’t see why your scheme shouldn’t +work. D’you see that medicine chest there?” He pointed to a little teak +cabinet on the bulkhead of the cabin. + +Horatio said he did. + +“The key’s on the hook alongside it,” said the skipper. “Open it!” + +The boy fitted the key into the lock with a hand trembling with +excitement. + +“It’s open, sir,” he said expectantly. + +“Right at the back you’ll see a----” + +Sims hesitated a moment, for footsteps sounded outside. “You’ll see a +bottle of quinine,” he concluded in his ordinary voice, for the +footsteps halted before his door. + +It was just as well he altered the last part of his sentence, for just +at that moment the door opened and the foreign lieutenant entered. + +Horatio’s face went white, and his knees knocked together with fright, +but the officer saw nothing unusual in what was going on. + +“Goot morning!” he said affably. “I am ver’ sorry to hear you are ill, +captain. Vat is ze matter?” + +“I’ve a touch of fever again,” replied the skipper, avoiding the other’s +eye. “I’m just seeing if there’s any quinine in the medicine chest!” He +lied bravely, but felt horribly nervous all the same. + +“Vell,” replied the officer, “I ’ope you vill soon be vell. Vere is ze +quinine?” + +The captain’s heart nearly stopped with anxiety, for the foreigner went +to the medicine chest and began examining the labels on the different +bottles and phials. + +Supposing he suspected? The thought was too awful. + +[Illustration: “It’s laudanum. Here, take it and hide it somewhere.” + +_To face page 77_ +] + +But Horatio, although he felt as if his knees would give way, retained +his presence of mind, and snatching up the nearest bottle, held it up +and pretended to read the label. It was not quinine, but that did not +matter, and taking it across to the captain he thrust it into his hand. + +“Here it is, sir,” he remarked. + +To his relief, the lieutenant gave up his search. + +“Ah, does Inglesh words!” he exclaimed. “I can speak ze Inglesh ver’ +vell, but to read him is more deefecult!” + +“Yes,” agreed the skipper with a nervous grin. “They are a bit hard to +understand.” + +“Vell,” resumed the other pleasantly, “I ’ope you vill soon be vell. Ef +zere is anyzing you vant, please to let me know. I say good morning +now!” He made a courtly bow and left the cabin. + +“Oh, lor’!” gasped the boy with a sigh of relief, as the footsteps died +away. “I thought he’d spot wot we was up to!” + +“Now,” whispered Sims. “Right at the back at the left of the top row, +you’ll see a small blue bottle with an orange-coloured label.” + +Horatio dived his hands into the cabinet and withdrew it with the bottle +in his grasp. + +“Is this it, sir?” he asked eagerly. + +“I think so,” said Sims. “Bring it here.” + +The boy brought it across, and examining the label the captain saw it +was the one he wanted. + +“D’you know what this is?” he asked, tapping it. + +“No, sir.” + +“It’s laudanum. There’s enough in this to send the whole lot of ’em to +sleep. Lucky it’s a fairly weak solution, so it won’t actually kill +’em. Here, take it,” he continued, “hide it somewhere!” + +Horatio thrust the bottle into the front of his tattered shirt. + +“What must I do with it, sir?” he asked mysteriously, for he felt as if +he was assisting to blow up the Houses of Parliament, or something +equally desperate. + +“Shove it in their food, somehow. D’you think you can do it?” + +“They orl ’as corfee arter their supper!” whispered the boy, with his +eyes opening very wide. “’Ow’ll that do, sir?” + +“Very well, I should think,” answered Sims. “What time do they have it?” + +“’Bout eight o’clock, sir.” + +“Well, empty the bottle in their coffee when you make it. You take the +men’s dinners to the forecastle, don’t you?” + +Horatio nodded. + +“Well, tell ’em, then,” hissed the skipper, “to be ready to make a dash +for the deck at half-past eight this evening; d’you understand?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“And tell the officers too, if you get a chance. Now run along. They may +smell a rat if you’re here too long. You quite understand what to do, +don’t you?” + +“Orl rite, sir. I understan’. I’ve got it orl fixed up in me ’ead!” And +so saying the boy departed. + +Sims lay back on his bunk with a sigh of relief. The plan seemed so very +simple; but yet, somehow, too simple to be successful. + +Would it succeed? He wondered. + + +IV + +The weary day drew on, and to the captain the hours seemed interminable. +He tried to read, but the words conveyed nothing to his brain, for his +feverish anxiety would not allow him to concentrate his mind upon his +book. + +His meals were brought to him by Horatio, who informed him that the men +had been told of what was to take place, but the day passed slowly, and +he was not sorry when the sound of voices and the clattering of knives +and forks outside in the saloon told him that the foreigners were at +their supper. + +His watch was hanging on the bulkhead, and at three minutes past eight +precisely he heard chairs being pushed back and footsteps leaving the +saloon. Then came dead silence, only disturbed by the ripple of water as +the ship drove along and the footsteps of someone walking up and down on +the poop. + +He waited in breathless anxiety. Ten minutes past eight, twenty past. +Would the time never pass? The minute hand of his watch seemed to be +moving terribly slowly, somehow. + +He was just beginning to feel nervous, when the footsteps above ceased. +He listened intently. Twenty-five minutes past! + +He crept out of his bunk and tiptoed noiselessly to the door. + +Half-past eight, but nothing happened. + +He trembled violently in his overwhelming excitement. Suppose the men +had decided that the risk was too great. Suppose--a hundred and one +possibilities flashed through his mind. + +The hand of the watch crept on to two minutes past the half-hour, and +just as he had given up hope, he heard the sudden rush of feet on the +ladder leading to the poop. + +Nerving himself for an effort, he took a run and hurled himself at the +door, hearing as he did so a confused shouting on the poop, followed by +two revolver shots. He was no light weight, and the stout panels ripped +and crashed as he flung himself at them, and, falling through the +debris, he found himself on all fours in the saloon. Picking himself up +he dashed out on deck and up the ladder to the poop, and what he saw +brought a wave of thankfulness to his heart. The British were in +possession. The prize-master lay senseless by the wheel, while the +warrant officer, who had evidently been on watch at the time of the +attack, had been disarmed, and was now being bound by some of the +_Evelyn MacDonald’s_ crew. + +Farther aft, two more of the enemy lay prone with their weapons beside +them, and looking along the upper deck he saw more of his own men +binding the others. + +“What’s happened?” he inquired breathlessly, making his way towards the +nearest group of men. + +“Lor’ bless ye, sir!” exclaimed Ginger Smith excitedly; “they wus orl as +’elpless as babes. Th’ orficer ’ere fired ’is pistol afore we biffed ’im +on th’ ’ead, but orl th’ others wus lyin’ like cawpses! Lor’, it wus a +gran’ idea of ’Oratio’s, an’ no bloomin’ herror!” + +“But where is Horatio?” asked the captain, looking round and not seeing +the boy. + +“’E wus on deck when we belted this ’ere cove on th’ nut,” remarked one +of the other seamen. + +“What’s become of him, I wonder?” said Sims anxiously, for he had a +sudden horrible feeling that the boy had been killed or flung overboard. + +He left the poop and ran forward to the galley and put his head inside. + +Twilight was fast approaching, but he saw a small white figure sitting +on a locker. + +“Chivers!” he said concernedly, for there was something about the +youth’s attitude he did not like. “Chivers! Is that you?” + +“Yus, sir, it’s me,” said the figure in a husky whisper. + +“What’s the matter with you?” queried the captain sympathetically. + +“It ’urts somethink crool!” whimpered Horatio. + +“What hurts, sonny?” + +“Please, sir, that cove wi’ a black beard fired ’is pistol an’ th’ +bullet went through me arm!” He showed his left arm, from a neat +puncture in which the blood was slowly trickling through his fingers. + +“Poor little chap!” said Sims huskily. “Come on, I’ll help you aft, and +we’ll put a bandage on it and soon make it better. Don’t forget, my +boy,” he added, “it was you who saved the ship!” + +“Thank you, sir,” whispered Horatio, as his shipmates clustered round +eager to help. + + +V + +Little more remains to be said. Horatio’s wound did not prove very +serious, for the bullet had gone through without touching the bone, and +when he had been bandaged, the drugged Germans were clapped below in +the forecastle with an armed seaman to guard them, and once more the +ship was turned round on her course for the Cape of Good Hope. + +Some days later the captain of H.M.S. _Yorkshire_, a 22-knot cruiser, on +her way to Simon’s Bay, was rather surprised when a signalman knocked at +his cabin door and informed him that a British steamer was flying a +signal to the effect that she had prisoners she wished to transfer. + +“Prisoners!” he remarked, in a surprised voice. “Humph, some of their +own fellows kicked over the traces, I suppose!” + +Nevertheless, the cruiser’s course was altered to close the tramp, and +stopping abreast of her, she lowered a boat. + +The cutter soon arrived alongside the _Evelyn MacDonald_, and a little +midshipman, followed by two armed marines, clambered on board. + +“I’ve got seventeen prisoners for you,” remarked Sims, when they had +saluted each other. + +“Seventeen what?” cried the small officer in amazement, fingering his +dirk. + +“Seventeen officers and men of the German navy!” + +The middy opened his eyes in astonishment. “But how the dickens did they +get here?” he demanded. + +Sims told him what had happened. + +“Well, this is the rummiest business I’ve ever heard of,” declared the +future Nelson. “Oh, lor’, though,” he added, “it’s a bit tough her +capturing you, isn’t it?” + +“I should jolly well think it was, mister,” agreed the skipper with a +smile. + +“By the way, captain,” remarked the midshipman, as the prisoners were +being transferred to the boat, “I should awfully like to shake hands +with that Horatio of yours!” + +Horatio, much to his disgust and blushing furiously, was pushed forward +and solemnly introduced to the young officer, who gravely saluted, and +then wrung him by the hand. + +“I say, old chap,” he suddenly remarked, bursting with curiosity, “you +might let me have a look at the hole in your arm!” + +Horatio was forced to untie his bandage and exhibit the neat little +puncture. + +“I’d give a year’s pay for that!” sighed the middy, for he had never +been in action himself. + +The officers and men of the _Evelyn MacDonald_ broke into a roar of +laughter, in which even the solemn-faced marines joined. + +Half-an-hour later the prisoners had been safely transferred, and the +man-of-war, with her crew cheering themselves hoarse--for the story had +become known all over the ship--was steaming off to the southward. + +Soon afterwards the steamer followed suit, and in due course arrived at +her destination. + +Horatio, I hear, is now serving in the Royal Navy, but he still bears a +scar on his left arm, and he is not a little proud of it. + + + + +V + +THE SALVAGE OF THE _CASHMERE_ + + +“Well,” remarked Captain Morris of the tug _Evening Star_, as he slowly +refilled his pipe, “things have been pretty bad wi’ us fur th’ last six +months. As ye know, mate, I sank all me capital in this old hooker when +me poor missus died. The craft’s cost me more’n I care to think about, +what wi’ th’ coal, upkeep, an’ wages, and we’ve not had a job wuth +calling a job fur a long time. There’s Tom’s schoolin’ to think about, +too,” he continued, glancing at his sixteen-year-old son, who sat on the +cushioned locker beside him. + +Johnson, the mate, nodded, but said nothing. + +“Why don’t you let me take that job at the shipbuilding yard, father?” +said the boy. “I should earn enough to live on, and then I should cost +you nothing.” + +“I don’t grudge the money, my son,” continued the skipper; “don’t think +that. You’ve bin a good lad, an’ ’tis money well spent. I did want to +get ye that job along o’ th’ Wireless Telegraphy Company. The work here +in the yard’ll lead to nothing, an’ ye’ll be stuck here all yer life.” + +Tom himself did not fancy the idea of spending his days in the little +seaport town of Halmouth, though, to save his father expense, he was +quite prepared to enter Mr. Saunders’ shipbuilding yard. + +“But,” he said, “if nothing else turns up, I must take what I can.” + +“I’m afraid so,” replied Morris with a sigh. + +“What are ye thinkin’ o’ doin’, then, cap’n?” broke in the mate. “Goin’ +to chuck the sea?” + +“I’ll have to sell this craft an’ get a job ashore,” growled the +skipper. “The Tug an’ Lighter Company have made me an offer for her, +an’, though ’tis two hundred less than I gave for her two year ago, I’ll +have to take it. Buyin’ an’ sellin’ are two different things, an’ she’s +runnin’ sweeter now than ever she was; besides, look at the money I’ve +spent on her.” + +The mate muttered something under his breath, for he did not like the +idea of serving under some other skipper. + +“Well,” continued Morris, glancing at the clock on the bulkhead, and +rising to his feet and stretching himself, “’tis close on time; we’d +best be getting off. Tom, my son, you’d best turn in; it’ll give ye a +chance of gettin’ to sleep afore we starts lollopin’ about outside.” + +“No, father,” exclaimed the boy; “I’m not a bit tired, and I’d much +rather stay up with you.” + +“Right ye are, then,” replied his father with a smile; “but when I was +your age I liked my bed a fair sight more’n you do.” + +With this concluding remark he went on deck, followed by Tom and the +mate. + +The _Evening Star_ lay anchored in the harbour, while all round her +glittered the lights of the coasting craft, taking shelter from the bad +weather outside. + +The little vessel rolled gently on the slight swell coming in from +seaward, while overhead the detached masses of cloud, scurrying across +the face of the sky on the strong south-westerly wind, showed that it +was blowing a full gale. The glass was also falling rapidly, so there +was every prospect of the weather outside being bad. + +Tom, at the time of which I write, was studying at a school some +distance away from Halmouth, and was now home on his holidays. He was +trying for a position in a wireless telegraphy company, a profession in +which the prospects were good, and being naturally intelligent and a +hard worker, he had every prospect of success in the entrance +examination which was due to be held in six months’ time. + +The news that his father would not be able to afford his school fees any +more came as rather a shock; but, though it was a bitter disappointment, +he put a brave face upon it. + +As a rule he spent his holidays with his unmarried aunt, who had a +little house in Halmouth; but, if the truth must be told, he was not +over-fond of the austere old lady, who had such strange ideas as to how +boys should behave; so more often than not he lived on board the +_Evening Star_ with his father, and looked upon the occasional trips to +sea as a great treat. + +Once on deck, the skipper glanced round with his practised eye. + +“I don’t like the look of the weather,” he observed to Johnson; “look at +all that wrack up there to wind’ard.” + +“Looks pretty bad,” agreed the mate. + +“We must go out,” said the skipper, “for all the weather may be. Are ye +all ready for gettin’ the anchor up?” + +“All ready, cap’n.” + +“All right; get her up, then,” ordered Morris, making his way to the +little bridge, followed by his son. “We’re in for a dirty night, my +lad,” he observed, “an’ we’d best get our oilskins on now.” + +He disappeared into the wheelhouse, and presently reappeared with two +bundles. + +“Here ye are, boy,” he said, throwing one into Tom’s arms; “they’ll be a +bit big for ye, but ye’ll want ’em afore the night’s out.” + +Tom put them on, and, with a sou’wester crammed down over his ears, took +his place on the bridge alongside his father. + +A quarter of an hour later the tug was threading her way through the +crowded anchorage, and soon afterwards passed the bobbing buoys at the +harbour mouth. + +Once in the open water, the combined forces of the wind and sea began to +make themselves felt, and whiffs of spray rattled on the painted canvas +weather screens of the bridge like volleys of small shot, and this soon +developed into a regular shower of water as the little ship drove her +way seaward at ten knots. + +“How d’ye like it, Tom?” asked the skipper. “Feelin’ seasick?” + +“Seasick!” exclaimed Tom indignantly. “I’m enjoying myself fine; much +better than being with Aunt Susan, and having to be in bed by half-past +eight!” + +Morris laughed, and clutching the bridge rail with one brawny hand to +steady himself, motioned to the helmsman to put the wheel over. + +The bows of the little ship swung round as she took up her new course, +and as she was now heading the sea, she rolled and pitched horribly. One +instant the bows of the tug were under water, while the next they would +be flung high in the air as a gigantic sea raced in from the gloom +ahead. + +Shipping heavy masses of water, and with the spray driving over her +funnel top, the brave little vessel fought her way westward. The water +washed round the sea-booted legs of those on the bridge, but holding on +to the rails, they peered ahead through the darkness. + +Nothing could be seen except the dark gloom of the land and the flashes +from a lighthouse away on the starboard bow, while from the +south-westward the enormous hillocks of water, the broken water on their +summits showing grey in the darkness of the night, advanced on the +labouring tug. + +At midnight the skipper turned over the watch to the mate, and leaving +orders to be called at two o’clock, retired to his tiny cabin. + +Tom also went below, and taking off his dripping oilskins, wedged +himself firmly on the cushioned lockers in the little saloon. He was +dog-tired, and in spite of the violent movement, was soon fast asleep. + +By the time the skipper returned to the bridge the _Evening Star_ was +well out at sea, and when the mate had gone below the engines were eased +to dead slow. The movement instantly became + +[Illustration: “The fiery trail of a rocket leapt out from the +darkness.” + +_To face page 89_ +] + +gentler, and the tug rode over the seas without shipping a drop of +water. + +Morris stumped up and down the bridge smoking his pipe, stopping every +now and then to look round the horizon; but nothing rewarded his gaze +except the lights of a few ships making their way up Channel. + +Three o’clock came, and by this time the sky overhead had commenced to +clear, and presently stars appeared. + +The skipper noted these changes with a grunt of satisfaction, and was +just about to continue his walk when he suddenly stopped dead. His eye +had been caught by a shower of bright falling stars far ahead, in the +deep blue sky on the horizon. + +“By gum! What’s that?” he muttered. + +He had not long to wait, for hardly were the words out of his mouth when +the fiery trail of a rocket leapt out from the darkness. He watched it +until it burst in a shower of white stars, and then, motioning to the +helmsman to steer straight for it, jumped to the engine-room telegraph +and put it to “full speed ahead.” He then took the syren lanyard and +gave it several lusty pulls. + +The hoarse braying of the powerful instrument bellowed out in a series +of loud “whoops,” and before the noise had died away, Tom, the mate, and +the engineer came rushing on to the bridge. + +“What is it?” they all asked in chorus. + +“Ship in distress,” said the skipper abruptly, as the tug forged ahead. +“She’s bin firin’ rockets.” + +As he spoke there was another trail of fire, followed by a shower of +stars, as a third rocket climbed upwards and then burst. + +“It may mean a salvage job for us,” ejaculated Morris, feeling strangely +excited. “Mate, get a blue light to answer them.” + +The engineer had vanished on the mention of the word “salvage,” and soon +the little tug was quivering as she leapt forward at her best speed. + +Johnson quickly reappeared, and before long a blue light had been +ignited and was spluttering in his hand. The flare shone out over the +heaving sea, illuminating the wave tops as they rushed by, and presently +it was answered by a flare from something dead ahead. + +“She’s seen us, whoever she is!” exclaimed Morris. + +The _Evening Star_ was rapidly approaching, and in about twenty minutes +a dull black blur, punctuated by row after row of lighted portholes, +became visible in the darkness right ahead. + +“She’s a thunderin’ great ship!” gasped the mate, gazing at her in +astonishment. + +“One of the Australian mail boats, I think,” remarked the skipper, who +was looking at her through his binoculars. “I can see two masts and +funnels, and--yes, by gum! she’s showing her two red not-under-control +lights!” he added, with a pleased, excited laugh. + +“Mail boat!” exclaimed Johnson; “that’ll mean a tidy lot o’ money for us +if we give her a tow!” + +“It will, mate!” agreed Morris joyfully. + +Tom, too, felt pleased, for the opportunity for which they had all +wished had evidently come. + +Steaming on, the tug was soon close alongside the great liner, round +whose hull the sea broke in masses of spray. Taking his ship close, +Morris took a megaphone and stepped to the end of his bucketing bridge. + +“What ship is that?” he bellowed. “D’you want assistance?” + +“Yes,” came back a voice from the towering bulk above. “We’re the +_Cashmere_. We struck sunken wreckage about a couple of hours ago, and +our rudder’s gone, while the port propeller’s damaged. We’re not making +any water to speak of.” + +“D’you want a tow, then?” shouted the skipper. + +“Yes,” came back the reply. “Could you get us along to Halmouth? We can +land the passengers and mails there.” + +“I can take ye there,” answered the joyful Morris. + +A few more shouted directions passed between the two vessels while a +knot of men on the liner’s forecastle made the end of a coir hawser fast +to a life-buoy.[B] This was then thrown overboard, and the line was paid +out while the tug backed astern. + +After what seemed an eternity the buoy was seen floating on the heaving +water close to the side of the _Evening Star_, and when several +unsuccessful attempts had been made, it was at length dragged on board. +It was then taken to the steam winch, and the powerful little engine +commenced to heave in fathom after fathom as Morris manœuvred the tug so +as to get ahead of theº _Cashmere_. + +It all took time, but before long a wire hawser appeared, made fast to +the end of the coir. The end of this was secured to the towing hook in +the tug, and at length there came a hail from the liner to say the other +end had also been made fast. + +Putting the engine-room telegraph at “Half speed,” Morris circled the +_Evening Star_ round for her course for Halmouth. But the engineer below +made a fatal mistake; he gave the engines rather too much speed, and as +the weight of the liner came on the hawser it suddenly tautened and flew +out of the water. The skipper saw at once what had happened, and dashed +to the telegraph to stop the engines. + +He was too late, however, for there was a sharp crack, and the steel +wire suddenly snapped in two. The vessels were once more separated. + +“That comes o’ using their bloomin’ wires,” muttered the skipper +angrily; “a decent bit o’ hemp ’ud never part like that!” + +The men in both ships hauled in the ends of the broken wire, and as they +did so Morris reviewed the situation in his mind. He had on board the +_Evening Star_ a strong 18-inch hemp rope, which would tow the liner +with safety, but the question was how to get it across to the other +ship. + +He could not float it on account of its weight, while the sea was still +too great to lower a boat, and to take the tug close to the disabled +ship was too risky to be attempted. He did not wish to lose the chance +of towing the _Cashmere_, but though he thought hard, he could see no +way out of the difficulty. + +“I don’t know what to do, my son,” he at length remarked to Tom in a +puzzled voice; “their blessed wire’s parted, and how are we to get +another across?” + +The boy thought for a moment. + +“Couldn’t I swim across with a thin line, father?” he said at length. +“We could tie a life-buoy on to the end of it, and then they could haul +a hawser across.” + +The skipper looked surprised. + +“Swim!” he exclaimed. “How d’ye expect to do it in this sea? You’d never +get there.” + +“Oh, yes, I would, father,” replied Tom confidently; “you forget I won a +prize for swimming last summer term.” + +“I couldn’t let ye do it,” said Morris; “it’s too dangerous, an’ I don’t +want to lose ye. Look at the sea!” + +Tom looked at the heaving waste of water, and it certainly did appear +alarming, for the wind whistled across the great rolling waves until +their broken tops were flung to leeward in clouds of flying scud. + +“Oh, do let me!” he pleaded. “I shall be perfectly safe if I have a +lifebelt on, and I shall be holding on to a life-buoy the whole time. +You can always haul me back if there’s any danger.” + +“I don’t like to,” returned his father hesitatingly; “not but what ye’d +do it, but supposing ye got drowned.” + +“I won’t get drowned, father,” answered Tom. “How can I if I’ve got a +lifebelt on? Just think of what it means. If you tow this ship home +you’ll make a lot of money, and if you don’t, somebody else will. You +must let me go, father!” + +“Yes, it means a lot to me; but suppose----” + +“You’ll let me go, then?” interrupted Tom, who saw his father was coming +round to his way of thinking. + +The skipper waited a moment or two, thinking, and then nodded slowly. + +“Hooray!” shouted the boy. “I’ll get ready at once!” He ran off the +bridge. + +Ten minutes later, with a cork jacket round his body and clutching a +life-buoy, to which the end of a thin line had been made fast, Tom leapt +into the water over the tug’s stern. The line was slacked, and, striking +out with his legs, he pushed the buoy through the water and soon got +clear of the tug. + +In five minutes he was half-way between the two ships, but it was +becoming hard work. + +At times he would be borne skywards on the foaming crest of a sea, while +the next moment he would be deep down in a hollow. Still he struggled on +with dogged perseverance, and though breathing was difficult and his +eyes were full of scud, so that he could hardly see where he was going, +he was moving slowly forward. + +Those in the liner had noticed what had taken place, and while the +passengers thronged the side and watched the lad’s gallant struggle, for +it was now daylight, a rope ladder was lowered over the bows, and a man +with a rope round his waist and with the coil of another in his hand, +descended to the bottom to help Tom on his arrival. + +On and on struggled the swimmer, until at last he came within fifty feet +of the great ship, whose tall, black side towered high above him. He was +beginning to feel tired and cold; but he still swum strongly, and in a +short time was close to the foot of the ladder. + +A second or two later a gigantic sea lifted him towards it, and he made +a frantic grasp for the lower rung. He missed it, and was being swept +away, when the man on the ladder seized his opportunity and threw his +rope. + +The bowline in the end fell close to the boy, who had the presence of +mind to clutch it and place it round his body under his arms. He then +undid the smaller rope attached to the life-buoy, and made that also +fast round his waist, and, lifting his hand, gave the signal for those +on deck to haul in. They pulled with a will, and in a second he felt +himself swing into the air, and managed to grasp the ladder. + +He rested for a moment, for his ordeal had tired him out, and then, with +the man’s assistance, slowly climbed on deck. He had done what he said +he would, and as he appeared the crew and passengers of the _Cashmere_ +broke into cheer after cheer. + +Tom was exhausted after his swim, but was soon taken below to a cabin +and provided with a suit of clothes, while before he reappeared on deck +the hawser from the _Evening Star_ had been hauled on board, and the two +vessels were moving slowly up Channel. + +Soon afterwards the wind and sea began to go down, and eight hours later +the two ships dropped their anchors in Halmouth harbour. Morris came on +board the _Cashmere_ immediately afterwards, and was greeted by his son +at the top of the accommodation ladder. + +“I’m proud of ye, my son,” exclaimed the skipper, with a quiver in his +voice, and wringing the boy’s hand; “I’m proud of ye!” + +“So are we all,” said the captain of the liner, coming forward with +outstretched hand, “and the passengers have all been spoiling him. I +should be proud to have a son like him!” + +Tom blushed. + +“Well, well,” said Morris, “he’s a good son, an’ all’s well that ends +well.” + +“You’ve both done us a good turn,” said the other, “and a good stroke of +business for yourself at the same time, for I can assure you my owners +won’t forget it. Come along to the saloon, captain,” he continued, “for +the passengers want to thank you, too.” + +Much against his will, the skipper was ushered below, and on his +appearance in the gorgeously decorated saloon, where all the passengers +were assembled, there was a burst of cheering. + +Morris stood nervously fingering his cap, for he was unused to things of +this kind; but, holding up his hand for silence, the captain of the +liner made a short speech. + +“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “you have all met the captain’s son, +but now I must introduce the captain himself. He saw our rockets and +came to our assistance, and Master Tom here swam across with the line +after the hawser broke. It is due to them both that we have reached our +journey’s end in safety, and I will ask you to give them three cheers. I +think they deserve it.” + +This was the signal for another outburst, and when at length it had +subsided a well-groomed, portly old gentleman advanced. + +“Captain Morris,” he began, “I have been asked by the passengers to +express to you, your noble son, and your gallant crew, our heartfelt +thanks for what you have done for us. Er--you have saved us from a +predicament which might well have resulted in a tragedy had it not been +for your timely assistance, and I have great pleasure in handing you +this small gift on behalf of us all, as a thank-offering for our +deliverance.” + +Here he handed the skipper a small brown-paper parcel. + +Ten minutes later Tom and his father, having thanked the passengers for +their gift, were back on board the tug, and when the skipper, and his +son, the mate, and the engineer were sitting down to tea in the little +cabin, the skipper produced the parcel from his pocket, and opening it +took out two envelopes, one addressed to himself and the other to Tom. + +“By gum!” he cried, opening his, and pulling out a bundle of notes and +cheques, “fifty, a hundred, two hundred, three hundred pounds!” + +“And a hundred here!” shouted Tom, displaying a cheque. “Father, they +have been good to us!” + + * * * * * + +Little more remains to be said. The captain distributed the money among +his crew in shares, the latter insisting that Tom should keep the whole +of his hundred pounds. + +Soon afterwards another substantial sum of money was received from the +owners of the _Cashmere_, and it far exceeded the amount Morris had +expected; for his share, when invested, gave him an income sufficient to +keep him in comfort for the remainder of his life. + +The skipper has now left the sea, but the _Evening Star_ is still +running, under the command of her former mate. + +Tom realised his ambition, for he is now a wireless telegraphy operator +on board one of the large Transatlantic liners, and, though he has been +through many adventures, he has never forgotten his swim on the occasion +when he helped to salve the _Cashmere_. + + + + +VI + +THE INNER PATROL + + +War was a reality, and had actually been in progress for over a month, +and the four destroyers, their black shapes sliding noiselessly +throughout the night, steamed to and fro with no lights off the entrance +to the blockaded harbour. They had been doing this for over three weeks, +and since the day after the fleet action on the very outbreak of +hostilities in which the enemy had been badly worsted and compelled to +retire under the guns of their fortress, they had been carrying out the +same routine. There were well over forty torpedo craft actually +patrolling, but of these four had been told off for the advanced patrol +line and were consequently some distance inshore of the remainder of +their consorts. + +Sometimes at night they would move slowly to and fro on a line parallel +to and about five miles off the coast and the entrance to the harbour, +but during the daytime they withdrew seaward, and their places were +filled by a cordon of cruisers stationed fifteen miles off the land. A +nearer approach in broad daylight was not permissible, for the enemy’s +coast defences, armed with powerful long-range guns, had to be treated +with due respect. The blockade was maintained with ruthless vigilance, +however, for the lines of destroyers, scouts and cruisers guarded all +means of exit from the doomed fortress. Away to seaward lay the whole +battle fleet, the admiral in command being in constant communication +with his inshore vessels by means of wireless telegraphy. + +The enemy had not been particularly active, and except for the fleet +action, in which it was reported that four of their battleships had been +sunk and three more and one battle-cruiser badly damaged, their losses +were not known. At the close of the battle the torpedo craft had been +sent in to convert the retreat into a rout, but although they had +attacked the fleeing enemy the results of their efforts were not known, +while several of the destroyers had been badly injured and had finally +sunk. Since then there had been little going on, for although the +hostile torpedo craft had put to sea at night on three different +occasions, they had each time been forced back by the watching vessels. +The losses in these encounters were not known for certain, but while +that of the blockaders consisted of some couple of dozen men killed and +wounded and a destroyer temporarily disabled, it was thought that two of +the enemy’s craft had been lost. The hostile submarines, strangely +enough, had been comparatively inactive. + +The men in the blockading craft were getting sick of it. Not sick of the +war, but tired of doing nothing, and in spite of the hard time they were +having they were spoiling for a fight. + +The weary monotony of the patrol was beginning to tell on their nerves, +and they were all, without exception, decidedly annoyed with the enemy +for not having more dash and initiative. + +The last ship of the four comprising the inner patrol is the one which +principally concerns us, and her ship’s company, although the remainder +of their flotilla mates called them “pirates,” were perhaps more than +usually anxious for the fight from this selfsame reason. It was a +pitch-dark night, and the stars and moon were obscured in the heavy +clouds banked in the sky, while the north-westerly wind whistled over +the surface of the sea and flung the foam from the top of the short +curling seas to leeward in sheets of spray. It was midwinter and +bitterly cold, and the icy blast numbed all those on board to the very +marrow, while to touch metal with the bare hand was painful. The decks, +in the places to which the warmth of the boilers had not penetrated, +were covered with a thin sheet of ice which was momentarily becoming +thicker as the driving spray fell and froze, and in spite of their +sheepskin coats, leather sea-boots, and fur caps with ear flaps, the +officers and men were almost numb. + +On the bridge stood the captain--a young lieutenant-commander--with his +sub-lieutenant, signal man, and quartermaster, and every now and then +the officers would stamp their feet and swing their arms to restore +their circulation. The ship ahead, the white wash of her wake showing up +through the blackness of the night, could be seen as a dim shadow over +the bows, while far off on the beam the dull line of the coast was +occasionally visible through the rifts in the driving squalls. The +little ship was all ready for action, for steam was up for full speed, +while the torpedoes were ready in their tubes and the guns had their +ammunition by them. The watch on deck, except for a look-out at each +tube, were huddled together under such shelter as they could obtain +from the wind; some were smoking and talking in a low voice, while +others were fitfully dozing. Sleep, however, was out of the question on +account of the cold, and every now and then a recumbent form would sit +up with a grunt and a yawn and curse the weather in extremely nautical +language. + +“Strike me bloomin’ well pink, Bill,” said an able seaman to his chum. +“I’m gettin’ fair fed up with this ’ere, for all the fun we’ve ’ad we +might as well be mobilisin’!” + +“What yer talkin’ about?” replied his friend. “When they does come out +you’ll get yer bellyful all right, I expect. You’ll be singin’ out then +right enuf!” + +“I ain’t afraid of ’em,” answered the first speaker, “but this ’ere +show’s too perishin’ parky for the likes o’ me; knockin’ abart the ’ole +time doin’ nothing gives me the fair ’ump. G-r-r-r, it’s cold!” + +“Never mind, ole chum, you’ll be warm soon enuf, I reckon,” said the +other. + +The conversation continued, and the commanding officer, happening to +hear what was said, for the speakers were sitting on the deck at the +foot of the ladder leading to the bridge, turned to his sub-lieutenant +and said, “Well, judging from what they say they’re just about as fed up +with this show as I am. I wish to goodness they’d come and have it out!” +He was referring to the enemy. + +“Yes, sir, so do I,” replied the sub. “We ought to be at the end of the +patrol line in another twenty minutes,” he added, “and then we make the +sixteen-point turn to the opposite course.” + +“Oh, well, keep a good look out, and call me if you see or hear +anything,” said the lieutenant-commander. “I’ll try to get a bit of a +caulk. Look out, and don’t get astern of station,” and so saying he lay +down in a deck chair on the bridge. + +Now a deck chair on the bridge of a destroyer in midwinter is not an +ideal place for sleep, however many clothes you may have on, and the +commanding officer soon gave it up as a bad job and sat staring up at +the scurrying clouds above his head. It was getting on for one o’clock +in the morning, and he had spent most of his nights in this manner for +the past three weeks, taking what sleep he could in the daytime. He had +had a hurried wash now and then, but had hardly been out of his clothes, +except to change them occasionally, for the whole period. His young +face, the cheeks and chin now covered with a thick stubble, seemed +prematurely aged, and he bore no resemblance to the smart young officer +of three months before. He had aged, and no wonder, for was he not one +of the watches upon whom his admiral depended to stop the hostile +torpedo craft if they came out? If they were allowed to steal unmolested +to the open sea they might be able to deliver a successful attack on the +battle fleet, so it was not to be marvelled at that the officers on the +advanced patrol felt the responsibility laid heavily upon them. + +The weary night drew on, and the patrolling boats steamed to and fro on +their beat, but the enemy showed no signs of activity. At about 2.15 +a.m., however, the sullen thud of a heavy explosion in the direction of +the harbour floated down on the wind. “Cæsar’s aunt!” shouted the +lieutenant-commander, springing up. “What’s that?” “Sounded to me like +a mine,” answered the sub-lieutenant. “I’ll take my oath it wasn’t a +gun.” + +“But who’d be messin’ about on top of mines at this time of night? There +are none of our craft inshore of us,” said the commanding officer. “By +George, though! I’ve got it,” after a minute’s thought, “you know our +minelayers were at work off the harbour entrance about a week ago. +That’s what it is. The other fellows are comin’ out, and one of the +silly blighters has got mixed up in our minefield. It can’t be +destroyers, they’d never come out at this time of the mornin’, give them +no time to get back before daylight, and it’s their big ships or I’m a +Dutchman!” He was still looking towards the shore some five miles away, +and had barely spoken when the fiery trail of a rocket shot skywards +from close in under the land. It burst in a shower of stars which +illuminated everything in the vicinity, and for a brief moment the +watchers saw, or thought they could see, a series of deeper shadows +gathered under the low cliffs. Before they could make certain, however, +the light had gone. But if the shadows were really there they could only +be one thing, the enemy’s fleet. + +“We’re in for a scrap at last,” exclaimed the captain, rubbing his +hands. “Send down and tell the engineer to stand by for a spurt, and +warn the hands to be ready!” + +The men needed no encouragement, for they were all awake. All hands and +the cook were on deck gazing anxiously landwards, and soon dispersed to +their stations at the guns and torpedo tubes. The lieutenant-commander, +meanwhile, was watching his next ahead, and as he looked he saw a +series of red flashes made with a hand lamp, and a second later a +whistle sounded shrilly along the line. + +“Great Scott! He’s going in to attack!” he exclaimed, jumping to the +engine-room telegraphs and jamming them on to full speed. “Look out for +the foremost tube, sub. You’ll have to fire when your sights come on, +and stand by to come up here if I get knocked out.” He was right. The +senior officer had decided to take his chance and to attack, and in a +short time the four destroyers were on their way for the harbour +entrance at a good twenty knots. + +Suddenly from the darkness right ahead the dazzling white ray of a +searchlight shot out; it flickered for an instant, and then rested full +on the leading boat. In another second at least half a dozen more had +been switched on, and shortly afterwards the guns commenced their +uproar. The vivid red flashes stabbed the darkness of the night, while +the thundering reports, punctuated now and then by the poom-poom-poom of +the lighter guns--for the enemy were using pom-poms--reverberated +through the air in a noisy crescendo of sound. The whine of the shell +and the crash of their explosions could be heard above the din, while at +times the beams of the searchlights would be all but obscured by the +fountains of spray flung up by the falling projectiles. At first the +shooting was wild, but as more guns chimed in it became better, and the +thrown-up spray was falling on the decks of the attacking boats while +the shell splinters whistled through the air. Nobody as yet had been +actually hit, and they drew closer and closer, until the leading boat +put her helm over and swung abruptly to starboard, and followed by the +remainder of her flock steamed at full speed along the enemy’s line some +six hundred yards off. It could now be seen that there were about half a +dozen big ships moving slowly ahead, and the leading destroyer, as she +swung, fired two torpedoes. Then, after what seemed an eternity, an +enormous upheaval of mingled water and flame rose at the side of the +battleship, as still firing wildly she vanished in the smoke and spray +astern. The roar of the detonation was all but drowned by the reports of +the guns, but there was no doubt that one torpedo had gone home. + +The fire had now become accurate, and shell after shell, bursting on +impact with the water, sent its jagged fragments whistling across the +attackers’ deck. Men commenced to fall, rents appeared in the funnels, +boats were splintered, but still they swept on, each vessel as she came +abreast her opposite number in the enemy’s line firing her torpedoes. +How many got home it was impossible to say, for the smoke and spray all +but blotted out the outline of the hostile ships. A series of explosions +were heard, however, so it was hoped that several of the weapons had +found their billet. + +The whole attack was over in less than four minutes from the first gun +being fired, and in another two the destroyers were swallowed up in the +darkness and were steaming to sea as fast as their damaged condition +could allow them. The enemy were still firing, but their shot was +falling nowhere near the retreating destroyers. Presently, however, this +ceased and all was silent once more. + +On getting about three miles from the coast the leading boat stopped, +and on comparing notes with the others it was found that in the whole +sub-division one officer and eighteen men had been killed outright, +while fourteen others were wounded. The boats themselves were not +vitally damaged, but the funnels, sides, and decks of all four were +badly perforated and torn. There was an underwater hole--the only +one--in the second boat, but the engines and boilers remained untouched, +and on the orifice being plugged she could keep down the flow of water +with her pumps. + +A wireless signal was made to the supporting cruisers telling them that +an attack had been made, and the wounded were made as comfortable as +possible until daylight, when the destroyers would be able to approach +their own fleet. Towards 4 a.m. another burst of firing broke out in the +direction of the harbour, and it was surmised that the outer patrolling +boats had gone in to attack. More firing took place at irregular +intervals till daylight, as attack after attack was pressed home, and it +was evident that the enemy were having anything but a pleasant time. + +Towards six o’clock the first signs of dawn appeared to the eastward, +and by 6.30 it was light enough to see the harbour entrance. Two big +ships appeared to be ashore, and another was sunk with her masts and +funnels above water, but beyond this it was impossible to see any +details. At 7 a.m. the four destroyers steamed slowly seawards, and +passing the outlying cruisers, met the battle fleet, which had +approached to within twenty miles of the coast. The killed and wounded +were sent aboard the larger vessels, and after being supplied with +spare torpedoes the four proceeded at their best speed for their base to +repair damages. As they left the signal “Well done, destroyers” +fluttered from the foremost head of the flagship, and the weary crews +broke into a throaty cheer as the signalmen read out the meaning of the +cluster of flags. + +They had done their work, and done it well, for the enemy’s fleet had +been badly mauled. Life was well worth living. Even the thought of their +dead and wounded messmates did not damp their spirits, for they knew +they had carried out their work, and that their days and nights of weary +watching had not been in vain. + + + + +VII + +THE GUN-RUNNERS + + +I + +There was no doubt that Jim Watson was in a very bad way. For three +long, weary weeks he had wandered round the London docks on the look-out +for a berth as cabin-boy. He had interviewed many masters and mates, but +without success, for the first question he was invariably asked was: +“Have you been to sea before?” + +“No,” was all he could say; and, sick at heart, he had been turned away +again and again. The family had migrated to England some four years +previous to the time of which I write, and Jim’s mother had died a year +afterwards. Mr. Watson had managed to secure a subordinate position in a +shipping office in the City, but the loss of his wife had preyed on his +mind, and three years afterwards he too had died. + +So Jim had found himself an orphan at the age of fifteen, and, with two +sovereigns and a few silver coins in his pocket, was cast out into the +world to earn his own living. Relatives in England to whom he could +apply for assistance he had none, and although his father’s old friend +gave him a position as office boy, the meagre wages he received barely +sufficed to pay for his food, let alone lodging. He had relations and +friends in Australia, and determined to throw up his position at the +office and endeavour to work his way out there as a cabin-boy in a ship; +but in spite of tramping the docks every day for three long weeks, he +had not yet succeeded in obtaining a berth. His small amount of money +was vanishing rapidly; for although he cut his food down to the smallest +possible limit, he found he could not live on less than 9d. a day, while +his bed in a doss-house cost him another 6d. a night. He had no +professional training, and although he was painstaking and plodding, his +schooling had not fitted him for any employment ashore which would bring +him in a living wage. + +While tramping the docks he had known what hunger was--that awful, +gnawing feeling of absolute emptiness which will turn even the strongest +man into a living wreck--and as he pursued his weary way along the +dock-side at Limehouse, he wondered how long it would last. + +Walking along, he came to a small grey-painted steamer called the _Sea +Foam_, made fast alongside the wharf. She was being loaded, and case +after case was lowered into her hold, while a swarm of stevedores were +hard at work amidst the rattling of steam winches and the shouts of the +foremen. He stood and watched the busy scene for a while, and then +noticing someone whose uniform cap showed him to be an officer of the +ship, he formed a sudden resolve to go on board and ask for a berth. +Walking up the gangway, he made his way forward and accosted the mate, +for he it was. + +“Please, sir,” he commenced, “could you----?” + +“What is it, boy?” shouted the officer, turning round; “what do you +want?” + +Jim trembled; but in spite of the ferocity of the officer’s voice, there +was a gleam of kindness in his eyes, and taking courage again he said: + +“Please, sir, could you give me a berth? I want to go to Australia.” + +“Australia, boy?” thundered the mate. “Australia? We’re not going +there--going up the Straits. General cargo.” + +The boy thought for a minute, and then came to the conclusion that if +there was a chance of a berth he would give up the idea of joining his +relations. + +“I’m not very keen about Australia, sir,” he said. “I’m strong, and I +could do any work.” + +“Humph! On your beam ends, eh?” grunted the officer more kindly. “Well, +I did hear the old man say he wanted a boy to help the steward, and I +know he hasn’t shipped one yet. It’s a dog’s life, though,” he added, +looking at Jim. “Been to sea before?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Well, I don’t know that that matters; you won’t have much sailoring to +do. Best wait and see the old man, he’ll be down along in an hour. Had +your breakfast?” + +“No, sir.” + +For answer the mate walked aft, and putting his head through the door +leading to the officers’ quarters under the bridge, bawled for the +steward, who presently emerged. + +“Look here, steward; take this youngster down below and give him +something to eat. He looks as if he wanted it, poor little chap!” + +“Thank you, sir,” said Jim gratefully, and following the steward, he was +soon gobbling up an enormous meal in the little cubby-hole which did +duty as a pantry. + +“Well, my son, you’re a rare ’un on the victuals!” gasped the steward, +as he watched the food disappear. “Hungry? Ain’t had nothing to eat for +a fortnight, I should think! What did you come here for?” + +“The officer said I might be taken on as a cabin-boy,” said Jim, between +his mouthfuls. + +“Oh, yes, I did hear the old man say something about having a boy to +help me,” replied the steward. “Ye’ll have to mind your eye if he does +take you on, though; the old man’s a fair caution when he gets his rag +out.” + +“I don’t mind that, sir,” said Jim. “Can you tell me where the ship’s +going?” + +“I dunno exactly,” replied the man; “I believe it’s somewhere up the +Straits--Mediterranean, you know. This is her first trip; she’s a +brand-new ship--just been built on the Tyne.” + +“Do you know how long she will be away, sir?” + +“No, sonny, I don’t know for certain. The crew’s only signed on for the +voyage. The old man told them he thought ’twould be about three months; +but I don’t think he knows for certain. She’s a good ship, though. Not +like some of them ordinary tramps you see knocking around. She can do +her fifteen knots easy--most of them can’t do more than ten.” + +The conversation was here interrupted by shouts of “Steward!” And +answering, “Coming, sir!” the man said, as he left the pantry, “That’s +the old man. I expect he’ll want to see you in a minute.” + +Jim waited in anxiety, and when the steward reappeared and said, “Come +this way--he wants you,” he got up and followed the man to the officers’ +berth. + +“Are you the boy who wants a berth?” inquired a short, thick-set, +bearded man, who was sitting in front of the stove. He looked ferocious, +but his tone was not unkindly. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Any experience?” + +“No, sir,” said the boy, his heart failing him as he was asked the +inevitable question. + +“Well, we’ll knock some into you; and so long as you do your work you +won’t fall foul of me. What about wages, now?” + +“I’m ready to take anything, sir.” + +“Five shillings a week I’ll give you. You get your food with the +steward, of course,” said the captain. + +“Thank you, sir,” gratefully replied Jim, for the amount, though small, +was more than he had expected. + +“Well, get your clothes aboard and the steward will show you your work. +We sail on the evening tide, about four o’clock.” He waved his hand to +show that the interview was at an end. + +Jim left the cabin delighted at the prospect of getting away so soon, +and, after asking his new master’s permission, went ashore to fetch his +scanty belongings and to purchase a few more necessary articles with the +remainder of his money. + +Returning towards noon, he found the cargo stowed and the men busy +preparing the ship for sea. He was not idle long, however, for the +steward soon pounced upon him and initiated him into his new duties. +These consisted in fetching the officers’ food from the galley, laying +and clearing away the table before and after meals, waiting on the +officers, washing up the plates, knives and forks, cleaning out, making +the beds, and being generally responsible for the chief and second +mates’ berths. There was plenty of work to be done, and the whole +afternoon he was hard at it. + +Towards half-past three steam was up and ready, and soon afterwards the +dock gates opened and the _Sea Foam_ was warped out through a basin +crowded with shipping, until she finally passed into the muddy Thames. +With a pilot on board she steamed slowly down the sinuous reaches of the +river, past the Rotherhithe, East India, and Victoria and Albert Docks, +and, off Gravesend, the pilot was dropped into his boat alongside, and +the ship increased her speed and shaped her course towards the open sea. + +It was all entirely novel to Jim, and he stood just below the bridge +ladder looking at the ever-changing panorama of ships and land as the +ship steamed along. All sorts and conditions of vessels there were: +great passenger liners, tramp steamers, large four-masted ocean-going +sailing ships, barges, etc., all claimed his attention in turn. He was, +however, interrupted; for the mate, who had been aft, suddenly rushed +forward, and, pushing Jim aside, dashed up the ladder on to the bridge, +taking the steps two at a time. From where the boy stood the skipper +could not be seen, but Jim could distinctly hear what was said. + +“There’s a Customs launch following us, sir!” the mate shouted. “She’s +cracking on all she knows, and will be alongside us in ten minutes!” + +“They must have spotted those cases of rifles and ammunition,” said the +skipper. “Look here, Barter, tell the engineer to go on all he knows. If +he can give us fifteen knots, we should give them the slip all right. I +hope they haven’t thought of wiring to Sheerness. They’ll have +torpedo-boats out looking for us if they have.” + +The mate did not wait to reply, but, running down the bridge ladder, +rushed to the engine-room hatch, down which he disappeared. The +vibration increased, and the _Sea Foam_ was soon travelling at full +speed, with the foam dashing from her bows and clouds of black smoke +pouring from her funnel. + +“Rifles?” thought Jim. “What on earth are they up to?” Moreover, there +was something suspicious in the fact of the Customs boat’s following +them and the captain’s taking steps to prevent her overhauling his ship. +Glancing aft, he could see the little black-painted launch travelling at +full speed, while a man in the bows was waving his arms and motioning to +the steamer to stop. It was obvious, however, that the _Sea Foam_ was +gaining, and going to the end of the bridge the captain derisively waved +his hand in reply, but made no effort to reduce speed. + +The pursuit was still kept up, and the steamer dashed along at a rate +which was entirely against all rules and regulations governing the speed +of vessels navigating the Thames. Try as she might, the Customs launch +could not overhaul her. From four hundred yards astern she had dropped +to half a mile, and at last, when darkness crept on and the sea got +choppy as the _Sea Foam_ left the river and entered the estuary, her +pursuer turned tail and abandoned the chase. + +By 5:30 it was practically dark, and dashing along at her best speed the +steamer rapidly neared the open water. In another half-hour the short, +choppy waves had given way to heavier seas, and soon afterwards the +little vessel was pitching and rolling more; as her bows were turned to +the south-eastward towards the open sea. + +It was blowing hard from the south-west, and the heavy masses of cloud +were flying down from windward on the strong breeze. Occasional heavy +rain-squalls all but blotted out the lights round about, and it was +obvious that they were in for a dirty night. But in spite of the risk +the captain had ordered all lights to be obscured, for he was anxious +lest torpedo-boats from Sheerness might have been sent out to intercept +him, and these he naturally wished to avoid. + +Jim was still standing at the foot of the bridge ladder when he heard +someone come to the top of it. + +“Is that you, boy?” said the captain’s voice. + +“Yes, sir,” answered Jim. + +“Go to the steward and tell him to send up some hot coffee for me and +the mate.” + +Jim departed on his errand, and presently returned on deck and went to +the bridge with two cups of the steaming fluid balanced on a tray. It +was pitch dark and blowing hard, while the violent movement of the ship +made climbing the bridge ladder rather a difficult matter. The captain +and mate took the cups; and, left to himself, Jim had a chance to look +about him. Far away to starboard twinkled the lights of Margate, while +nearer there were the red, white and green lights of a number of +steamers. Going to the end of the bridge, the boy peered over the canvas +weather-screen, noticing as he did so that the lights were still unlit; +and, as he watched the foaming white caps of the waves go seething past +the side of the ship, he heard the skipper make a sudden exclamation: + +“What’s that right ahead there, with no lights, Barter?” he gasped, +pointing out over the bows. + +“Destroyer or torpedo-boat!” said the mate, seizing his night glasses +and levelling them. + +Jim looked in the direction indicated, and there, barely a quarter of a +mile ahead, wallowing in the sea, was a long black shape whose four +funnels proclaimed her to be a torpedo-boat destroyer. + +“Hard-a-port!” shouted the captain, dropping his coffee cup on to the +deck with a crash; “we shall be into her!” + +The _Sea Foam_ swung round and cleared the stern of the destroyer by +barely twenty yards, and as she did so, shouting could be heard from the +latter’s bridge. + +“What are you knocking about for without lights, you pirate?” yelled an +angry voice; “what ship is that?” + +“The _Caledonia_, London to Barcelona. Sea’s put our lights out!” +shouted back the skipper on the spur of the moment. + +The mate laughed; but an instant later he exclaimed: + +“She smells a rat, sir--she’s after us!” + +It was true; for the destroyer, now right astern, was turning into the +wake of the steamer, and, as the latter was steadied on her original +course, volumes of sparks pouring from the funnels showed that she was +being driven for all she was worth. + +“They’ll have us, Barter,” gasped the skipper; “we can’t get away from +her; she’ll go twenty-five knots at least!” + +The man-of-war, however, had to turn, and by the time she was following +the _Sea Foam_ she was fully half a mile astern. At that moment a dense, +blinding shower of rain drove down from the windward, shutting out all +lights and making it impossible to see more than one hundred yards +ahead. The skipper was not long in taking advantage of it, and on his +shouting “Hard-a-starboard!” to the man at the wheel, the steamer’s bows +were turned until she was pointing at right angles to her old course. + +“She’ll think we’ve gone straight on,” said the captain in an anxious +tone, “and if this squall lasts she may not spot us!” + +The mate looked anxiously astern and to windward, but there were no +signs of the warship, and it was still raining heavily. “I think we +shall do it, sir!” he said, as he walked to the compass to give a +direction to the man at the wheel. + +A quarter of an hour passed, the minutes seeming like hours to those on +the bridge, but still the _Sea Foam_ forged ahead. At the end of this +time the squall was beginning to clear--and the destroyer was nowhere +visible. + +“Have the lamps lit, Barter, and bring her back to south-east,” ordered +the captain. “We’ve given her the slip.” + +They had. + + +II + +“That was a narrow squeak,” cried the captain, as he mopped his +streaming face; “if it hadn’t been for that squall we’d have been +collared! If she does sight us now, I expect she’ll take us for someone +else, as we’ve got our lights burning.” + +“Yes, sir, I thought she’d have us,” exclaimed Barter, “and I don’t +fancy a spell in gaol. I suppose we’d get that for gun-running! It’s a +pretty serious offence to be collared smuggling arms out of a country +for another country at war!” + +“Yes, it’d be prison and a fine, Barter. But it’s a paying game. We +stand to get something pretty considerable between us if we can dump +this lot in the Gulf of Sidra without being collared!” + +Jim, seeing that the conversation was evidently not intended for his +ears, and not wishing to be caught eavesdropping, slipped quietly down +the bridge ladder and went below to the pantry, where the steward set +him to prepare the table for the officers’ supper. Soon afterwards, +leaving the second mate on deck, the captain and Barter came below and +had their meal, and this being concluded Jim went to the cabins to tidy +up for the night. Whilst turning down the second mate’s bed, he saw in a +little bookshelf over the head of the bunk a small, thin book labelled +“Atlas,” and knowing that the officer was on the bridge, and that he +would not be disturbed, he abstracted the book from its resting-place +and turned to the index at the end. + +“Sidra, Gulf of (Africa), 31° O′ N. 19° O′ E.,” he read, and, having +some slight knowledge of geography, he turned to the map of Africa to +ascertain exactly where the place was. It did not take him long, for he +soon found out that the place was on the north coast of Africa, in +Tripoli, and that it lay just to the southward of a town marked on the +map as Bengazi. + +He knew that Italy and Turkey were at war, and he had read, on the rare +occasions when he had looked at a newspaper in the public library, that +fighting was going on in Tripoli. Putting two and two together, +therefore, he came to the conclusion that the _Sea Foam_ had on board a +cargo of rifles and ammunition destined for the Turks, and in this he +was quite correct. Putting the book back in its place, he left the +cabin; and that night, as he lay in his bunk, he pondered over what he +had discovered. The mate’s expression “gun-running” made him feel rather +frightened; for he knew that it was a serious offence for the ships of a +neutral State to supply arms to a belligerent country. If he had known +the true state of affairs he would never have asked for a berth, but as +he had, there was no way out of it, and he meant to see the thing +through. After all, he thought, they could not very well put him in +prison, and the idea of an adventure rather attracted him; so he +determined to make the best of it. While thinking over the situation, he +fell into a dreamless sleep which the violent movement of the ship did +not disturb, and the next morning, when routed out by the steward to +prepare the officers’ breakfast, he felt a very different being to the +miserable youth who had joined the ship twenty-four hours before. + +As the ship proceeded down Channel and out into the open Atlantic the +weather steadily improved, and by the time Ushant had been rounded and +the Bay of Biscay reached, there was nothing but a slight north-easterly +swell, which, accompanied as it was by a clear blue sky and a brilliant +sun, caused no inconvenience. + +Nothing beyond the usual round of daily duties occurred to relieve the +monotony of the voyage, and Jim found that, although he had to work hard +while he was at it, he had plenty of leisure. He was having quite a good +time; for, though the captain was inclined to be grumpy occasionally, +neither he nor the officers abused or ill-treated Jim, so, on the whole, +his lot was a happy one. The mate, seeing that he was far above the +ordinary run of boys usually found in small steamers, took a liking to +him from the very outset, and many a time Mr. Barter would go out of his +way to explain things. In this way Jim soon picked up a smattering of +sea-faring knowledge. + +The old steward himself was a walking nautical encyclopædia, for he had +been a seaman before a permanent lameness had forced him to undertake +the lighter duties of steward. He was never tired of spinning yarns, and +Jim never wearied of listening to them. + +The ship steamed southward at ten knots along the coasts of Spain and +Portugal, visible as a blue chain of hills far away to port. The weather +was perfect, and Jim felt that life was well worth living. + +One day, while clearing the table after the officers’ midday meal, he +overheard a conversation between the captain and the mate. + +“Barter,” the former said, “I’ve been thinking about that Customs boat. +Do you think they had any notion of where we were going?” + +“They must have had,” replied the other; “they wouldn’t have been so +keen on stopping us, otherwise.” + +“Well,” continued the skipper, “it’s quite possible that if they know +we’re going through the Straits they’ll have wired to Gibraltar to send +out a couple of cruisers or torpedo craft to stop us. How would it be to +paint the ship another colour? This grey’s rather a ‘give away,’ it’s so +uncommon.” + +“Yes, we can do that all right, captain. I’ll get the hands on to it the +first thing to-morrow morning; I’ve got plenty of black paint, and we +can slap that over the hull and give her a black funnel with a red band, +or something of the kind.” + +“Yes, that’ll do. And paint the name out, too; but put in another, +though; it would never do to have none at all.” + +“All right, sir; will _Caledonia_ do?” queried the mate, with a grin. + +“Yes, that’s all right. We shall be passing through the Straits by +daylight, so make a good job of it.” + +The next morning all the available men were slung over the side with +paint-pots and brushes, and in a short time the grey _Sea Foam_ had been +transformed into the _Caledonia_, a black ship with a black funnel with +red band. + +Early the next morning Cape Trafalgar was in sight, and a few hours +later the ship had entered the Straits of Gibraltar, keeping well +towards the African shore. She was about half-way through, when right +ahead, and apparently stopped, were sighted two large cruisers, one +with four funnels, lying directly in the steamer’s track. + +“They’re both Britishers,” exclaimed the mate, who was on watch; “that +four-funnelled chap’s one of the _Aboukir_ class.” + +“I wonder if they’re after us?” asked the skipper, feeling rather +nervous; “lucky we gave her a lick of paint yesterday. Perhaps they +won’t recognise us.” + +“I don’t know so much about that!” answered Barter; “these Royal Navy +chaps are pretty spry; I was in the Reserve myself once, and I know +’em.” + +“Well, if they heave us to we’ll hoist the yellow flag and tell them +we’re from Lisbon to Port Said. There’s plague at Lisbon, and they’d +hardly dare board us, the regulations are so strict.” + +The _Sea Foam_ steamed on, and was soon close to the great man-of-war. +No notice had apparently been taken of her, and the skipper and mate +were congratulating themselves that they were not going to be stopped +when the cruiser suddenly fired a blank gun to leeward, and at the same +time a string of signal flags fluttered out from her fore masthead. + +“Hang it,” growled the captain, “there’s no mistaking that!” And as he +spoke he walked to the engine-room telegraph and rang down “Stop!” + +“O.S.C., I.O.X.,” muttered the mate, rapidly turning over the papers of +the signal box to find out the meaning of the flags. + +“Heave to. I wish to communicate,” he said to the captain, when he had +found the place. + +“Hoist the yellow flag at the fore!” shouted the latter; and even as he +spoke a boat from the man-of-war was half-way across the stretch of +water dividing the two ships. + +“What ship is that?” shouted a midshipman, as the cutter approached. + +“_Caledonia_; Lisbon to Port Said; general cargo,” answered the captain +in reply. + +As if to verify his statement, the boat pulled under the stern, and +there the officer read the name and port of registry, which, luckily, +had been altered the day previous to “_Caledonia_, London.” + +“Hope he doesn’t spot our new paint!” ejaculated Barter nervously, as +the boat pulled forward again. + +“All right, sir, I’ll go and report,” shouted the officer, whose +suspicions had apparently not been aroused. “You haven’t by any chance +seen a grey steamer called the _Sea Foam_, have you?” + +“No, haven’t seen anything of her,” replied the captain, turning his +face to hide his smiles. + +“All right, you can proceed on your voyage,” came the reply. + +“Thank heaven!” exclaimed the skipper, as he put the engine-room +telegraph to full speed ahead, and motioned to the helmsman to resume +his original course; “that’s our third escape! I wonder how many more we +shall have.” + +“You’ve got the whole Italian fleet to dodge yet, sir,” remarked Barter. + +Soon afterwards the speed of the _Sea Foam_ was increased to fifteen +knots, for this would bring the ship to her destination about 11 p.m. on +the fourth night after leaving the Straits. + +The time passed without incident, and the last day of the voyage broke +fine and clear. From daylight the captain and mate were on the bridge +gazing anxiously ahead for the columns of smoke that would betoken the +presence of men-of-war. They had their meals brought up to them by Jim, +and the boy himself could not help feeling his spirits rise as the ship +forged ahead and no warships were seen. The hours passed rapidly, and at +length the sun set in the western horizon in a blaze of scarlet and +orange, but still the _Sea Foam_ steamed along at fifteen knots. All her +lights were extinguished, and there was nothing to proclaim her +whereabouts except the phosphorescent welter churned up by the screw, +and a ruddy glow at the funnel-top. + +The captain and Barter were still keeping their weary vigil on the +bridge, looking ahead through the darkness, when suddenly Jim, who was +on deck, saw a rapidly-moving light about a mile away on the starboard +side of the ship. It was moving fast in an opposite direction to the +steamer. Rushing on to the bridge, he seized Mr. Barter by the arm and +drew his attention to it. + +The mate snatched the binoculars, and after gazing at the light for a +second or two he exclaimed to the captain: + +“There’s a destroyer out there, sir. No, there’s more than one--two, +four; I can count six, sir--steaming very fast in single file.” + +“I wonder if they’ve spotted us?” gasped the captain. + +“I don’t think so,” replied the other, “they’re moving away.” + +“Lucky there’s no moon and it’s a dark night!” + +“They must have been keeping a pretty rotten look out, though,” +rejoined Barter; “Watson, here, spotted them all right.” + +The destroyers vanished in the gloom astern, and the _Sea Foam_ steamed +rapidly on towards her destination. Ten o’clock came, but no more +men-of-war were sighted, and about half an hour later the skipper, +pointing ahead, suddenly exclaimed: + +“We’re getting close, Barter; I can see the land ahead and on both bows. +Get the anchor ready, and get a man along with a lead.” + +The dark shadow of the land was now distinctly visible, and, with the +engines eased to “dead slow,” the steamer crept cautiously ahead. + +“And a quarter-nine!” came the long-drawn-out cry from the man with the +lead. “A quarter less eight!” came the next sounding, a minute later. + +The water was shoaling rapidly, and as the land was evidently getting +close the ship was stopped, and the captain hailed the forecastle to let +go the anchor. The rusty monster fell with a splash and a rattle of +cable--the journey was over. + +Going to the end of the bridge, the captain then fired a blue light, and +its appearance was the signal for a chorus of yells a short distance off +on the starboard beam. + +“They’re there all right, then!” he ejaculated; “I arranged with the +fellow in London to be here at eleven o’clock to-night, and we’ve just +done it! Hark at ’em shouting!” + +The howling drew closer, and before long three large Arab dhows stole +into the circle of light and made fast alongside. An officer in Turkish +uniform clambered on board, and going to the bridge he wrung the captain +by the hand. + +“You haf arrived, my friend!” he exclaimed in broken English, “with many +good rifles? Aha! Haf you seen those Italian ships?” + +“Yes, we saw ’em all right,” said the skipper, “but they didn’t see us!” + +“That is good!” replied the other. “I haf brought tree dhow, an’ plenty +men. Are you ready to unload now?” + +“Yes, quite ready.” The hatch covers had been removed and the derricks +topped during the afternoon; and, even as he spoke, the winches started +their rattle as the unloading commenced. + +There was no need of concealment now, and every soul in the ship, Jim +and the steward included, worked with a will. Case after case containing +rifles and ammunition was slung over the side into the dhows alongside, +and at length, at three o’clock the following morning, the steamer’s +holds were cleared of her cargo. + +Just as the first signs of dawn appeared in the east the _Sea Foam_ +weighed her anchor and steamed seawards, and soon afterwards the coast +was out of sight, and the vessel was steaming placidly homewards through +a calm sea with no vessels in sight. + + * * * * * + +Nothing more remains to be said, except that in due course the ship +arrived in London, where the captain drew the money due to him for the +successful enterprise. Each member of the crew received a substantial +bonus, and Jim, to his surprise, was included in the award. + +“Here you are, my boy,” said the skipper, as he handed him the money. +“You’ve been a good lad, and you deserve it. I’m chucking the sea now, +but if you are ever stranded, come to me.” + +“Thank you, sir!” answered Jim, with tears of gratitude in his eyes; and +after saying good-bye to the mate and steward, he left the ship for +good. He could not help feeling a pang of regret, for in the short time +he had been on board he had grown fond of the ship and her officers; but +shouldering the bag containing his scanty belongings, he trudged +citywards. + +The money he had received so unexpectedly enabled him to buy a +third-class passage to Australia, where in due time he joined his uncle. +He is now employed on a sheep farm, and is in a fair way to doing well +for himself, but he will never forget his one and only experience of +gun-running in the Mediterranean. + + + + +VIII + +THE ESCAPE OF THE _SPEEDWELL_ + + +“Gude marnin’ to ye, John Marsh,” croaked old Thomas Wiles, looking over +the side of the little wooden quay and watching the fisherman in the +boat busy with his lines. + +“Marnin’, feyther!” replied Marsh cheerily, looking up at the old man +with a pleasant smile. “What d’ye make o’ th’ weather?” + +“Middlin’ fine, me son,” answered the ancient, taking the pipe out of +his mouth and looking up at the sky. “Middlin’ fine. Sou’-westerly +breeze’ll hold. We’ll have a drap o’ rain, maybe, but nothin’ much, I’m +thinkin’.” + +Wiles, aged eighty, was the oldest man in the village of Bembridge, in +the Isle of Wight, and being an old man-of-war’s man was generally +regarded as the local know-all on all matters nautical. The fishermen of +the place used to flock to the Barleycorn tavern to hear the words of +wisdom which fell from the old seaman’s lips, and though they did +sometimes laugh at him behind his back, and call him an old croaker, it +must be admitted that his prognostications regarding the weather usually +turned out to be correct, and that, more often than not, they took his +advice. He had served in the Navy “way back in th’ ’sixties,” as he +himself called it, and though it was now 1805, and he was firmly +convinced that “th’ Sarvice was gwine to th’ dawgs; nothin’ like ’twas +when I was in th’ ole _Andromeeda_,” he never tired of watching the +frigates and line-of-battle ships when they sometimes came to an anchor +in St. Helen’s Roads. + +He watched Marsh for some minutes without speaking. + +“Be ye gwine out this marnin’?” he inquired at length. + +“Yes, feyther,” answered the fisherman with a nod. “Me an’ Tom here,” he +pointed to his fourteen-year-old son, who was hard at work baiting some +lines. “Me an’ Tom has our livin’ t’earn.” + +The old wiseacre on the jetty shook his head in disapproval. + +“Bean’t ye afeerd o’ bein’ copped by them Frenchies?” he asked. “Them +privateers wot got ole Tom Martin t’other day?” + +“Afeerd, feyther,” laughed Marsh. “No, I bean’t afeerd, I reckon, but I +doan’t want to see th’ inside o’ one o’ them prisons. Lor’ bless me, +though, when I wus in the Sarvice along o’ Lard Nelson, we allus said +each man was wuth three on ’em froggies!” He spat over the side to show +his contempt. + +Marsh himself had served in the Navy, but had retired some years before +to eke out a scanty livelihood by fishing, and though his profits were +not large, they had sufficed to keep his wife and two children. Tom, his +eldest son, had been used to his father’s boat for the last four years, +and always accompanied him on his expeditions to his favourite fishing +ground near the Owers shoal off Selsey Bill, and as the boy had made up +his mind to enter the Navy when he was old enough, there was no doubt +that his knowledge of boat work and his general acquaintance with the +sea would help him to become a prime seaman in His Majesty’s Fleet when +his turn came. + +“Well, me son,” resumed Wiles after a lengthy silence. “Maybe ye ain’t +afeerd on ’em, but mark me words, ye’ll sing a diff’rent tune if they +cops ye an’ claps ye an’ Tom in one o’ them prisons. The grub’s crool +bad!” The old man shook his head knowingly, and stumped off up the jetty +on his way back to the Barleycorn. + +There was no doubt about it that Marsh was running a grave risk, for it +was 1805, and war time, and the Channel swarmed with the enemy’s +privateers. The latter, as a general rule, were luggers varying in size +between fifty and seventy tons, and were used, in time of peace, as +fishing craft. Now, however, as war had taken away their legitimate +vocation, the owners of these _chasse-marées_ had converted them into +privateers by fitting them with small guns and manning them with large +crews armed to the teeth. They were extraordinarily fast, and would +swoop down on any defenceless vessels they came across, and carry them +off from under the very noses of the British frigates and sloops-of-war +stationed in the Channel. Even the merchant ships in the home-coming +convoys, protected though they were by men-of-war, were not safe from +capture, while the hostile luggers would often approach the English +coast in broad daylight and harry the hapless fishing craft within a +mile or two of the shore. The crews would be captured, the prizes +looted and burnt, and then the _chasse-marées_ would clap on all sail +and make off, trusting to their superior speed to escape. They generally +succeeded in doing so, in spite of the vigilance of the men-of-war, and +the consequence was many English fishermen found themselves in French +prisons, while many more, unwilling to face the risk of losing all they +possessed, were thrown out of employment and stayed ashore with +starvation staring them in the face. Marsh, however, had had good luck +up to date, and had never so much as sighted a privateer, and although +he fully realised the risk he was running in continuing his fishing, he +was not to be put off, in spite of old Wiles and his dismal warnings. +“Needs must where the devil drives,” and his occupation was the only +thing he could rely upon to keep his family and himself from absolute +penury. + +Soon afterwards, therefore, the _Speedwell_ had slipped her moorings and +was sailing seawards with the fair south-westerly breeze. She was a +handy little cutter-rigged craft of about five tons, and carried a large +spread of canvas which gave her a good turn of speed in anything like a +wind, and by noon she had reached her destination. The sails were +furled, and the anchor dropped, and after the midday meal father and son +were soon busy fishing with lines. + +The fish were biting well, and by the latter part of the afternoon the +little wooden tank amidships was all but filled with pollack, ling, +whiting, and many other varieties of fish. + +“Are ye thinkin’ o’ goin’ back home this a’ternoon, Dad?” asked Tom, +rebaiting a hook and throwing it overboard. + +“No, son, don’t think so,” answered the fisherman. “Fush is bitin’ so +well that I think we’d best put the lines out at sundown, an’ stay out +all night. We’ll up anchor an’ go back home to-morrow marnin’.” + +Tom was not at all averse to the idea, for he had often undergone a +similar experience, and really, in spite of their narrowness, the +lockers in the cabin of the cutter were quite comfortable to sleep upon. +He rather liked the idea of cooking his own supper, too, and he was so +accustomed to the sea that the gentle rolling of the little ship did not +disturb him in the slightest. + +The wind had been lulling all through the afternoon, and towards sunset +it died away completely. Soon afterwards the sun sank to rest in a blaze +of yellow and orange which predicted a breezy day for the morrow, while +the sea presented a glassy shining surface only disturbed by a gentle +swell rolling in from the south-westward. Overhead, in the darkening +blue of the sky, scattered bunches of mares’ tails hung motionless in +the still air, and sitting in the stern sucking at his pipe, +instinctively swaying his body in rhythm to the gentle movement of the +boat, Marsh looked up at them. + +“There’s a fair capful o’ wind about yet,” he remarked pensively. “That +yaller on the ’orizon an’ them mares’ tails shows this calm won’t last.” + +“Will it blow harder than it did to-day, Dad?” asked the boy. + +“No,” returned the fisherman, shaking his head. “’Bout the same, I +reckon. Son,” he added, “ye’d best get th’ night lines laid now, afore +it’s dark. They’re ready in th’ tub forrard.” + +The boy clambered into the dinghy made fast astern, and sculled off to +do the job. Twenty minutes saw the lines laid, and when Tom returned he +found his father had prepared their supper. After finishing the meal +they hoisted the light on the forestay, and then, as darkness had +fallen, retired to the cabin and were soon stretched out on the lockers +in the little den. No sounds broke the stillness of the night except the +gentle lapping of the water against the side. The cutter rolled a little +on the swell, but the movement did not disturb the slumber of her weary +inmates, and ten minutes later, tired out after their day’s work, they +were both fast asleep. + +There was no such thing as a clock or watch on board the +_Speedwell_--timepieces in those days were expensive luxuries; but +Marsh, like most seamen, could wake himself at any hour he wanted to, +and at four o’clock the next morning he was on deck. The first gleams of +daylight were just appearing through a heavy mist which overhung the +surface of the water, but true to his prophecy of the night before the +breeze had again risen, and was gaining strength every minute. + +“Rouse out, Tom!” he shouted, going to the hatch leading to the cabin +where the boy was still fast asleep. “Come up and give us a hand to get +th’ mains’l on her. When we’ve done that we’ll get th’ lines in, an’ +start off home!” + +“Coming, Dad!” answered the sleepy Tom, rolling off his narrow locker +and feeling about for his sea-boots, the only portion of his attire he +had discarded on turning in. Within a couple of minutes he had joined +his father above, and after some trouble, for it was still very dark, +they had hoisted the mainsail, which flapped in the ever-freshening +breeze. + +“Come on, son,” said Marsh, when this operation was finished. “We’d best +weigh th’ lines now.” + +He went aft to haul in the dinghy, but hardly had he taken a couple of +paces when Tom stopped dead. “Ssh!” he whispered, pointing out in the +mist on the port quarter. + +“What ails ’e, son?” asked his father in a low undertone. + +“Ssh!” hissed the lad, cocking his ear. “I heered somethin’ over there.” + +“What wus it?” asked Marsh. + +The answer was not long in coming, for hardly were the words out of his +mouth when the unmistakable creaking of blocks and the sound of +conversation broke the stillness of the morning. + +They looked intently in the direction from which the noises came, but so +far nothing could be seen, but every instant the light was getting +stronger, and the mist was gradually dispersing as the breeze freshened. +The voices came nearer and nearer, and then the fisherman suddenly felt +his heart leap into his mouth. + +“Tom, they’re Frenchies!” he gasped. “Hark to their chatterin’! They’ll +have heard this mains’l o’ our’n slattin’ in th’ wind!” + +“What ’ud we best do, Dad?” queried the boy nervously, for he had never +seen an enemy at close quarters, and did not exactly relish the idea of +meeting one. + +“Go down to th’ cabin, son,” ordered the father, “an’ get th’ axe. We’ll +have to cut the cable!” + +“What about th’ lines?” + +“Let ’em go,” said the man in an undertone, gazing anxiously through the +murk. “Go below an’ fetch th’ axe. Doan’t ’e make any noise, now!” + +The boy did as he was told, and creeping down the ladder soon reappeared +with the weapon, which he handed to his father. + +“Look ’e here, lad,” whispered Marsh. “Take th’ helm. I’m going forrard +to cut th’ cable. We’ll get th’ fores’l up after.” + +Louder and louder became the sounds, and then a dark blurred shape began +to slide out of the mist. It was approaching fast, whatever it was, and +creeping forward the fisherman stood ready in the bows with his axe +poised. + +Tom jammed the tiller over, and as the _Speedwell’s_ bows began to pay +off, his father brought the broad-bladed weapon down on the taut cable +with a crunch which completely severed it. + +But it was too late, for they had been seen, and before the little craft +had gathered way the blurred outline of the mast astern had resolved +itself into the shape of one of the dreaded luggers, and at the same +instant a loud shout rang out from her direction. Marsh, having freed +the cutter, jumped to the fore halliards and hoisted the foresail, and +then clambered aft into the stern. + +“She must ha’ seen us!” he remarked breathlessly, noticing that the +lugger had altered her course slightly. + +“Must have,” replied Tom, feeling very anxious. “How fur off is she?” + +“Not more’n a hundred yards,” said his father. “I doan’t think she’s +comin’ up, though,” he added. + +The _Speedwell_, with her mainsail and foresail set, was apparently +holding her own, for the shadow behind her did not become more distinct. +Presently she was dashing along with her lee gunwale perilously near the +water’s edge, but the lugger did not seem to be gaining, and for a +moment Marsh thought he still had a chance of escaping. + +Presently they ran out of the fog bank into clear daylight, for the sun +had now risen, but looking astern they soon saw the bowsprit and then +the black hull and three tanned lugsails of the _chasse-marée_ following +dead in their wake. + +“I’m afeerd we’re collared this time, Tom!” exclaimed Marsh, as he +watched the lugger dashing along with the spray smoking over her weather +gunwale. “Yon’s a faster craft than our’n!” + +He was right, for now the stranger was undoubtedly closing, and a few +seconds later a ruffianly-looking individual, clad in a blue jersey and +a long red cap, clambered forward on board the lugger and shouted +something in his own language. His words could not be heard on account +of the wind, but there was no mistaking his gestures. He was telling the +_Speedwell_ to heave to, or to take the consequences. + +“Heave to be jiggered!” exclaimed Marsh indignantly, shaking his fist at +his pursuer. “I’m not a-goin’ to pipe down to a set o’ pirates like +that! Look e’ here, son, we must get th’ tops’l on her, it’ll give us a +bit more speed. Lord knows we’ll want it,” he added, with an +apprehensive glance astern. + +No sooner said than done, and after a certain amount of difficulty, for +the breeze was fresh, they succeeded in getting the gaff topsail above +the mainsail. Feeling the extra canvas the cutter leapt through the +water faster than before, but they had lost ground during the manœuvre, +and the Frenchman was now barely fifty yards astern. + +It could now be seen that she carried four small guns each side, while +crowded on her decks were over thirty armed men. Several of them were +clustered in the bows, and the morning sun could be seen glinting on the +barrels of muskets, and before long another man rose to his feet and +hailed, in broken English this time, for the _Speedwell_ to heave to and +surrender. + +Marsh shook his fist in reply, but hardly had he done so when a ragged +volley of musketry broke out from the lugger. Some of the bullets came +perilously close, while one scored a long weal in the wood of the +bulwark close to which Tom was standing. He ducked involuntarily, a +thing which many a brave man has done the first time he has been under +fire. + +“Lie down flat on th’ deck, me son,” said his father, with a smile on +his weather-beaten face. “There ain’t no call for ye to get exposin’ +yerself.” + +“All right, Dad,” said the boy. “But can’t we do anythin’ to go a bit +faster? She’s gainin’ on us!” + +“I dunno,” answered Marsh. “P’raps if we cut away th’ boat astern it’ll +help us along a bit. Get th’ axe an’ cut her adrift!” + +Tom cut the dinghy free, and as she was floating astern another volley +rang out from the lugger. This time the muskets had been better aimed, +for the bullets hummed through the air closer to the cutter’s deck, but +still no damage was done. + +“I wish we had a musket or two to fire on th’ swabs!” growled Marsh. + +But his wish was useless, for beyond the axe the cutter had no weapons +of any kind on board, and all the time the _chasse-marée_ drew closer +and closer. It was lucky she could not use her guns, for a discharge +from them would have blown the Englishman out of the water; but even as +it was, affairs were bad enough, for the lugger’s crew had opened up an +independent fire, and the range was so short that the flying missiles +were coming closer and closer every second. + +They lay flat on the deck, where they were protected to some extent by +the low bulwarks; but though pursuer and pursued were both travelling +fast, the lugger was coming up hand over fist. Presently she was no more +than twenty yards astern, and as a sudden gust heeled the _Speedwell_ +over Marsh rose to his knees to get a better purchase on the tiller. The +moment he did so more shots came from the lugger, and to Tom’s horror he +suddenly saw his father relinquish his hold on the helm and clap a hand +to his left shoulder. + +“Dad! Dad!” he cried. “Have they hit ye?” + +“Yes, th’ frog-eatin’ pirates!” groaned the fisherman, with the blood +trickling down his arm. “Lucky ’tis only through th’ shoulder. Take th’ +tiller, son,” he added, grinding his teeth in pain. + +Tom, crouching low, steered the boat as best he could while sheltering +himself from the flying bullets. He could do nothing to help his father, +who had sunk to the deck more or less unconscious from the pain of his +wound, for he had his work cut out in keeping the cutter on a steady +course. But all the time the _chasse-marée_ was drawing closer, and at +last, glancing astern, the boy saw her short bowsprit barely ten yards +off the _Speedwell’s_ quarter. + +For a moment his heart failed him, for the lugger was sailing close to +the wind and evidently intended to run up on the cutter’s weather +quarter and then board, for several red-capped ruffians, armed with +cutlasses and pistols, were standing by her foremast, ready to jump the +moment the vessels touched. + +Tom glanced at his father, undecided what to do, but then he was +suddenly struck by a brilliant idea, and putting all his weight on the +tiller jammed it hard down. The _Speedwell’s_ head flew round into the +wind with a rattling of ropes and a slapping of canvas, but though the +wrench when the heavy boom came over nearly carried away the mast, the +rigging held, and leaving the boat to steer herself for a minute, the +boy jumped forward to secure the fore sheet. Muskets and pistols were +fired at him, but he accomplished it in safety, and clambering aft again +took his place at the helm. + +Putting about a cutter-rigged craft like the _Speedwell_ was an easy +manœuvre enough, but with the lugger, who had to lower and dip her three +lugsails every time she tacked it was by no means so simple. The +Frenchmen, moreover, were not expecting Tom’s jibe, and dashed on, with +her crew yelling with mad excitement. + +Though the _Speedwell_ was now heading out to sea with her stern +pointing at the lugger’s broadside, the guns of the latter were not +fired. Probably they were not loaded, and lucky it was that they were +not. + +Soon the boy heard the shouts and the slatting of canvas as the +_chasse-marée_ went about, but by the time she was in pursuit again the +handy little cutter had gained at least two hundred yards. Tom’s course, +however, was now carrying him out into the English Channel, while the +Isle of Wight, still shrouded in a pall of mist, was somewhere away on +his port quarter. He determined, nevertheless, to wait until his pursuer +should be close before attempting to go about again. + +Presently the fisherman, noticing a change in the movement, opened his +eyes and looked up. + +“What have ye done, lad?” he asked feebly. + +Tom explained. + +“Good lad!” exclaimed his father. “If ye keep on goin’ about every time +she comes alongside o’ us, p’raps we’ll weather her arter all. How fur +astarn is she now?” + +“’Bout two hundred yards,” said the boy, with a glance over his +shoulder. + +The lugger, however, was still gaining, and within twenty minutes was +close astern again. As before, she approached on the cutter’s weather +quarter, her men standing by ready to board, while occasional musket +shots whistled over Tom’s head. + +Nearer and nearer she came, until Marsh, thinking his son was waiting +too long, raised himself on his uninjured arm. + +“Now’s yer time, son!” he shouted, seeing the _chasse-marée’s_ bowsprit +getting nearer and nearer. “I’ll take the tiller, jump forrard an’ stan’ +by th’ fore sheet.” + +He reached out his uninjured hand and jammed the helm hard down, and +once more the _Speedwell_ came up head to wind with her canvas flapping +in the breeze. The lugger’s bowsprit was perilously close, almost +overlapping the cutter’s quarter, but Tom, who was just about to dash +forward to readjust the fore sheet, was suddenly seized with a brilliant +inspiration. He seized the axe and made a wild slash at the lashing +securing the lugger’s jib to the end of her bowsprit, now within easy +reach. It was done on the spur of the moment, but his eye was sure, and +the keen edge of his weapon bit through the tough rope. + +The Frenchmen were instantly thrown into utter confusion. The jib, no +longer stayed forward, flew aft in a cloud of canvas and precipitated +two red-capped Frenchmen into the water, while the man at the helm, +seeing his companions struggling in the sea, relinquished his hold on +the wheel, and endeavoured to save them. The lugger promptly came up +into the wind with her sails thrashing against her masts; the air became +blue with “Sacrés!” and wild shouts of rage, and in spite of his danger +Tom could not help chuckling. It was fully ten minutes before order was +restored on board the foreigner, and by the time she had repaired her +damage, picked up her men, and was once more in chase of her nimble +quarry, the latter was over a mile ahead. + +About half a mile beyond the _Speedwell_ was a bank of low-lying fog, +and Tom was looking at it and wondering whether or not it would hide him +from his pursuer, when he heard the sullen boom of a gun from the +southward. At first he could see nothing to account for it, but +presently + +[Illustration: “He seized the axe and made a wild slash.” + +_To face page 142_ +] + +he noticed the dim shape of a large ship emerging out of a pall of mist +about two miles away to port. + +The lugger had seen the stranger, for she had altered her course and was +flying off to seaward. The big ship gradually sailed into view, and once +in the sunlight the boy saw from her towering canvas and black and +yellow chequered sides that she was a man-of-war. + +“We’re saved!” he yelled excitedly, as a puff of smoke left the ship’s +side, and a round shot splashed into the water midway between her and +the _chasse-marée_. + +“What’s that, son?” queried Marsh, sitting up. “What did yer sing out?” + +“There’s a big ship firing at the Frenchie!” repeated the boy +delightedly. + +The fisherman looked over the gunwale. + +“Snakes!” he exclaimed an instant later. “Yon’s th’ _Amazon_. See the +White Ensun at her peak!” + +The frigate fired again, but once more the shot pitched short, and from +the way the lugger was winging seaward it seemed that she was travelling +faster than the man-of-war, and that she would make good her escape +after all. + +“Set yer royals! Set yer royals!” muttered Marsh, seeing that the +frigate was under top-gallant sails. “You won’t catch her else! Ah!” he +exclaimed an instant later, when, as if in answer to his suggestion, +three clouds of canvas descended simultaneously on the man-of-war’s +masts. “That’s better, capten!” + +The light sails were sheeted home and hoisted, but even with their +assistance the frigate was no match for her nimble quarry. + +“There she goes again!” sang out Tom, as another tongue of red flame and +a cloud of white smoke leapt out from the man-of-war’s side. “Hurrah!” +he yelled, waving his hat in his excitement. “That’s done it!” + +It had, for the foremast of the _chasse-marée_ had suddenly toppled +overboard with its sail. It was a lucky shot, for the range was great, +but the thirty-two pound ball had shorn off the mast close to the deck, +and had effectually stopped the lugger’s progress, though she still +strove to escape with the sails on her fore and main masts. + +“Won’t do, me son,” murmured the fisherman, looking at her. “Yer copped +all right!” + +He was perfectly correct, for the _Amazon_ was now sailing two feet to +her one, and ten minutes later had hove to close alongside the +Frenchman. They saw the smoke of a volley of musketry; but it was the +enemy’s last effort, for a minute or two later the tricolour fluttered +down from her peak. She had surrendered. + +The _Speedwell_ still held on her course for Bembridge, and when the +frigate had transferred her prisoners she took her crippled prize in +tow, and steered up towards Spithead. She came booming along at a great +speed, far faster than the cutter, and half an hour later the two +vessels were close alongside. + +Tom took off his hat and cheered as she passed; an answering yell came +back from the man-of-war’s men, and shortly afterwards an officer with a +speaking trumpet jumped up on to the white hammock cloths and stood +balancing himself with one arm hooked round a backstay. + +“Cutter, ahoy!” he bellowed. + +Tom waved his hand in reply. + +“We’ve captured the _Trois Sœurs_ of Saint Malo. Eight guns and forty +men. She very nearly had you! D’you want any help?” + +“Tell ’em no,” growled Marsh; “this prick o’ mine can wait till we get +back home.” + +“No, sir,” shouted the boy. + +“Right!” came back the answer. “What’s the name of the cutter and her +owner?” + +“The _Speedwell_ of Bembridge, sir,” replied Tom. “John Marsh, owner!” + +“Right! Good-bye! Glad to have been able to help you!” The frigate drove +ahead out of earshot, and the figure in blue and gold leapt down on +deck. + +A couple of hours later the _Speedwell_ arrived at Bembridge, and the +little town, as may well be imagined, was thrown into a state of frantic +excitement when the story of her narrow escape became public property. + +Tom became a sort of public hero, and one day about a fortnight later, +when his father was convalescent, for the bullet had broken no bones, +they were once more at work in the cutter moored up alongside the jetty. + +“What did I tell ’e, John Marsh?” said the well-known voice of old Wiles +from above. “Didn’t I tell ’e as ’ow th’ Frenchies was cruisin’ around?” + +“Aye, feyther,” replied the fisherman, busy putting patches in the sails +through which the French bullets had driven holes. “But we wusn’t +copped, all th’ same!” + +“It wurn’t none o’ yer fault, then,” retorted the old gentleman. “If it +’adn’t bin fur that son o’ yourn ye’d a’ tasted t’inside of a French +gaol. I knows!” he concluded, wagging his head wisely. + +“Never mind, feyther,” laughed John Marsh. “We wusn’t copped, an’ Tom +did save th’ _Speedwell_. Didn’t ’e, son?” he added, putting his hand on +the boy’s shoulder. + +Tom merely blushed and felt a fool. + + + + +IX + +THE LUCK OF THE _TAVY_ + + +It was a dirty night; there was no possible mistake about that, and +Sub-Lieutenant Patrick Munro, R.N., of H.M. T.B.D. _Tavy_, crouching for +shelter behind the canvas weather screens on the bridge, felt supremely +miserable. + +For one thing, he was rather seasick, for the destroyer, well out in +mid-Channel, was punching her way westward in the teeth of a rapidly +rising south-westerly gale. No sailor likes a gale; those in destroyers +hate them. + +The sea was big, and every now and then as the _Tavy_ plunged her nose +into the heart of an advancing wave, masses of solid water came pouring +over the forecastle and sheets of spray went flying high over the +bridge. + +The night was very dark and the sky overcast. The wind cut like a knife, +and in spite of his oilskins, sou’-wester, sea-boots, and a profusion of +woollen mufflers, the sub was nearly wet through and chilled to the very +marrow. + +He was keeping the middle watch--midnight till 4 a.m., and now, at 1.30, +he had still another two and a half hours before he would be relieved by +the gunner and could retire to the warm bunk in his cabin. + +Even then it seemed doubtful if he would get any sleep, for the _Tavy_ +rolled and pitched abominably. Moreover, at odd moments she had a +playful habit of throwing her stern high into the air on top of a wave +and of shaking it like a dog’s tail. It was disconcerting, to say the +least of it. + +The destroyer was by herself, and not a solitary gleam of light was in +sight anywhere. Somewhere over the horizon to the northward lay the +south coast of England; but as it was war time all shore lights had long +since been extinguished. They afforded too good a guide to hostile +submarines. + +The war had been in progress for well over eighteen months at the time +of which we write, and neither the _Tavy_ nor her sub-lieutenant had +seen a shot fired in anger. They had come across plenty of mines, +floating and otherwise, and on one occasion had seen a merchant ship +blown up and sunk and had rescued her crew. + +Once they had sighted a Zeppelin, miles away on the horizon until it +looked like an overgrown, animated sausage; while many, many times they +had been sent to sea to assist in “strafing” hostile submarines. But +they had never “strafed” any, had never fired a gun or a torpedo in real +earnest; whereat the hearts of all the officers and men had grown sick, +and they envied those of their comrades who had been lucky enough to be +in action in the Dardanelles or North Sea. + +The weather had grown steadily worse as the night wore on. They had been +steaming twenty knots to start with, but on account of the sea, had had +to ease down first to fifteen, and then to twelve, lest the masses of +heavy water coming over the bows should strain the ship and carry +things away. + +The lieutenant in command, Travers, was vainly endeavouring to get a +little sleep on the cushioned locker in the charthouse underneath the +bridge. He had been on deck till 12.30 a.m., and his last orders to +Munro were to the effect that he was to be called at four o’clock or if +any lights were sighted. + +The time wore on, and towards two o’clock, as the sub was beginning to +feel a little better and was wondering whether he were bold enough to +manage some cocoa from his vacuum flask, he heard the signalman on watch +utter a sudden exclamation. + +“What’s the matter?” he asked. + +“I thought I saw a flash o’ some kind on the ’orizon a little on the +port bow, sir!” the man replied excitedly, peering in the direction +named. + +“What sort of flash?” + +“It looked like a gun, sir.” + +They both gazed anxiously out over the water, dodging the sheets of +spray as they came flying over the bows, but not a thing was visible. + +“If it had been a gun,” the sub pointed out at last, “surely we should +have heard it? The place where you thought you saw the flash is almost +dead to wind’ard.” + +“I don’t rightly know, sir,” the signalman answered. “Maybe we’d not +hear it if it was a small gun.” + +Hardly had he spoken when a sharp spurt of ruby flame broke out from the +darkness right ahead. It was unmistakably the flash of a gun, apparently +about five miles away, and the sub strained his ears for the report. He +heard nothing except the wash of the breaking seas. + +But an instant later the fiery trail of a rocket cleft the air in +exactly the same spot. It rose in a curve, and finally burst in a shower +of stars which seemed to illuminate the sea for miles round. + +The glare died away, but not before he had caught a fleeting glimpse of +the dark shape of a vessel. She carried no lights of any kind, so far as +he could see, and what sort of craft she was he could not determine. But +she was a ship of some kind, he could swear to that. + +“Signalman, go and tell the captain!” he ordered excitedly. “Messenger, +warn the guns’ crews to stand by!” + +The two men departed on their respective errands. + +Travers was on the bridge in less than five seconds, and when the sub +had told him what he had seen he went to the engine-room telegraph and +increased the revolutions of the engines to fifteen knots. + +“I’ll shove her on at fifteen,” he remarked. “Can’t go more than that in +this sea. By the way, how far off did you say she was?” + +“About five miles, sir,” the sub and signalman said together. + +“Right,” nodded the skipper. “In twenty minutes we should be up to her, +whoever she is. Sub, have the men warned, and get the guns and torpedo +tubes manned. I don’t expect for an instant she’s anything but an +innocent tramp, but we’d better be ready. These Huns are up to all sorts +of dodges, foul and otherwise.” + +[Illustration: “The glare died away, but not before we had caught a +fleeting glimpse of the dark shape of a vessel.” + +_See page 150_ +] + +“But what about the gun flashes, sir?” the sub-lieutenant queried. + +“M’yes,” said Travers slowly. “The flashes certainly complicate matters. +I don’t expect people go blazing off guns in the middle of the night for +the good of their health. Someone must be pretty scared, I should think. +However, have everything ready.” + +“Aye, aye, sir.” + +The men, sleeping in their clothes, as was their habit at sea, came +tumbling up, but less than thirty seconds later there was another +development when the wireless operator clambered on to the bridge. + +“I wants th’ captain!” he exclaimed, ducking his head as a whiff of +spray came rattling against the weather screens, like a volley of small +shot. + +“Here I am,” said Travers. “What’s the matter?” + +“About a minute ago, sir, I heard a ship making S.O.S. by wireless! She +made it twice, and then suddenly stopped! There’s somethin’ else makin’ +signals, too, but I can’t make head nor tail o’ what she’s sayin’! +There’s somethin’ happenin’, sir?” He seemed very excited. + +“Phew!” whistled the skipper joyfully. “Don’t say we’re going to have a +run for our money at last! How far off d’you think the signals came +from, Sparks?” + +“They were comin’ in strong, sir. I should say a matter o’ ten mile or +less.” + +“Right. Go down and keep your ears glued to your receivers, and if you +hear any more, let me know at once. By George, sub!” he added, rubbing +his hands and turning to Munro. “There appears to be dirty work going +on somewhere, eh?” + +“There does, sir,” the sub agreed. + +The time seemed to pass very slowly as the _Tavy_ forged ahead. Five +minutes passed ... ten minutes ... a quarter of an hour. + +“We ought to be barely a mile off her by now if she’s stationary!” +murmured Travers disappointedly. “But I’m blowed if I can see a sign of +anything!” + +Twenty minutes ... twenty-five minutes. Still nothing in sight. + +The skipper growled something under his breath. + +“Where on earth’s she got to?” he exclaimed. “Shove her on at seventeen, +sub. I think she’ll stand it.” He was getting impatient. + +Munro turned the handle of the telegraph until the dial showed the +requisite number of revolutions. + +The destroyer moved on, making heavier weather of it as she gathered +speed, but it was not until thirty-five minutes had elapsed that the +lieutenant made a muffled remark, wiped his binoculars carefully, and +applied them to his eyes. + +“I’ve spotted her!” he cried. “She seems to be steering to the +south-west’ard, and we’re overhauling her pretty fast! Starboard a +little, cox’n! Steady so!” + +Before very long the dark hull of the stranger was visible with the +naked eye. She seemed a fairly large ship, and was apparently about a +couple of miles off and steaming twelve knots. The _Tavy_ was gaining +fast. + +“Make a signal telling her to stop!” Travers ordered. “Then ask her name +and where she’s bound.” + +The signalman pressed the key of his flashing lamp in the longs and +shorts of the Morse code. He did it for quite ten minutes without +stopping, but no reply was forthcoming. At the end of this time the two +ships were barely a mile apart, and unless the steamer, now plainly +visible as a craft with one straight funnel and two masts, was keeping +an extremely bad look out, she must have seen the destroyer’s signals. +But no, nothing happened. + +“These chaps deserve to be sunk!” Travers grunted disgustedly. “I’ll put +a shot across her bows; that’ll wake her up!” + +He leant over the bridge rail and gave the necessary orders to the men +at the gun below. + +As the weapon was discharged there came a brilliant flash and a loud +report, and presently the plugged shell pitched into the water several +hundred yards ahead of the steamer. + +It was a summons she could not afford to neglect, and putting her helm +over, she turned round in her tracks and steered straight for the +destroyer. + +“Tell her to stop!” Travers ordered again, noticing that she was still +moving through the water and approaching fast. + +Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the fun began. + +The steamer sheered abruptly to port, dense clouds of black smoke +pouring from her funnel as she increased speed, and then, when she was +barely half a mile off, the brilliant red flash of a gun broke out from +her side. + +Those on board the destroyer heard the report, and a shell screamed +through the air like an infuriated demon and raised its spray fountain +some distance beyond them. Before it had pitched, other gun flashes were +sparkling up and down the stranger’s side. She was a merchant ship from +her build and appearance, but was evidently powerfully armed. She was +firing furiously. + +The attack was quite unexpected, but the _Tavy_ was not unprepared. + +“Open fire on her!” Travers yelled hoarsely, dashing to the telegraphs +and jamming them over to “Full speed.” “Sub, I’m going to run past her! +Nip down on deck and stand by to fire the foremost tube when your sights +come on!” + +The _Tavy’s_ guns roared out in reply, and albeit the violent motion of +the ship and the water breaking on board made the shooting rather wild, +the shells seemed to be pitching somewhere near the target. + +The steamer still fired rapidly, until the air was full of an awful, +horrible whining; but at first her shooting was not too good. Perhaps +the destroyer offered a very small target, or perhaps the stranger’s +guns’ crews were not very expert; at any rate, most of the projectiles +seemed to be falling harmlessly into the sea about two hundred yards +beyond and astern of the _Tavy_. + +The whole affair was over in less time than it takes to read a +description of it. The ships were approaching each other fast on +parallel and opposite courses, and would pass at a distance of about +eight hundred yards. + +The hostile shells began to fall closer. Travers heard a violent +explosion from aft, and glancing round, saw the lurid flame of a +detonation close by the after funnel. Someone screamed, and then the +air seemed full of flying, whistling splinters. The ship had evidently +been damaged, for her speed dropped fast. But she still moved through +the water. + +Another shell, falling in the water about twenty yards short, raised a +gigantic spray column which fell on deck and drenched every soul on the +bridge and forecastle. It then ricochetted over the bridge, passing so +close that the air disturbance whisked the cap off Travers’ head and +carried it neatly overboard. + +But in another instant the sights of the foremost torpedo tube came on, +and the sub pulled a lever. + +The torpedo leapt out of its tube like a great silver fish and landed in +the water with a splash. The stranger evidently saw it fired, for she +circled round to avoid it with her guns still firing heavily. + +Another hostile shell, bursting in the water, sent a number of fragments +whizzing across the destroyer’s forecastle. Two men of the foremost +gun’s crew were hit, and dropped to the deck, but the others, pushing +them aside, went on loading and firing, loading and firing, as fast as +they could. + +The stranger, at very close range, offered an enormous target, and the +destroyer’s weapons, small though they were, could hardly miss her. +Shell after shell drove home, for they could see the brilliant flashes +of the explosions as they struck and burst. The _Tavy’s_ guns were +smaller than those of her opponent, but the latter was enduring terrible +punishment, and her fire was weakening rapidly. + +Then, quite suddenly, a great column of water mingled with smoke and +flame, leapt into the air at the steamer’s side. There came the awful, +shattering roar of a heavy explosion. The torpedo had gone home. + +When the turmoil died away, she had ceased firing. The torpedo must have +struck her forward, for her bows were deep in the water and her stem was +high in the air, with the propellers still revolving slowly. She seemed +to be sinking fast. + +Travers was still staring at her speechless, when the sub came on to the +bridge chuckling with glee. + +“I got her!” he shouted excitedly, pointing at the sinking ship. “By +gum--I got her!” + +The skipper said nothing. He had an awful feeling at the back of his +mind that perhaps he might have sunk a British ship. + +She had fired on him first, it is true, but would that absolve him from +sinking her if she did turn out to be British? + + * * * * * + +The _Tavy_ had five men killed outright by the shell explosion aft, and +another two wounded at the foremost gun. She was leaking and badly +damaged, too, for when the engineer officer came on to the bridge, a +little later, he reported that one boiler was hopelessly out of action, +that the starboard engine was damaged and could not be used, and that +one shell, penetrating the side below the waterline in the stern without +bursting, had drilled a hole through which several compartments had been +flooded. However, he added cheerfully, the hole had been plugged +temporarily, and the ship was in no danger, while she could steam at +ten knots with her other engine. + +The stranger’s bows, meanwhile, were under water, and she was sinking +fast by the head. Men aboard her could be seen lowering boats, and +circling round, the _Tavy_ approached to render what assistance she +could. + +But before she reached the spot, the steamer flung her stern high into +the air. She hung poised for a few seconds, and then, amidst a cloud of +steam and smoke, and with the muffled roar of collapsing bulkheads, +slowly disappeared from view as if sucked down by a gigantic magnet. + +The destroyer approached the scene and stopped her engines. The sea was +covered with wreckage and a film of oil which prevented the waves from +breaking, and switching on her searchlight, the _Tavy_ swept the water +for any signs of survivors. One or two were seen, the whaler was +lowered, and after a prolonged search and with no little risk, one +officer and twenty men, some of them badly wounded, were rescued. All +the remainder had gone to their fate. + +Travers waited anxiously. Suppose she were a British ship after all? +Suppose he had been responsible for the drowning of some of his own +countrymen? + +But, no! The sub, who had been superintending the embarkation of the +survivors, came on to the bridge soon afterwards. He was half beside +himself with excitement. + +“She was the German auxiliary cruiser _Pelikan_, sir!” he almost +shouted. + +“The _Pelikan_!” exclaimed Travers, a wave of thankfulness surging +through his heart. “Are you quite certain, man?” + +“Absolutely, sir. I got it from one of our--er--prisoners! You remember +those flashes we saw?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, she was sinking a British steamer!” + +“A British steamer!” echoed the skipper. “Did they pick up any of her +men?” + +“No, sir,” the sub-lieutenant replied venomously. “They didn’t. They +left ’em to sink or swim! Said the weather was too bad to lower boats!” + +“Too bad for their boats when we could lower our whaler!” cried Travers, +clenching his fists in rage. “The wretched cowards! I’m glad we had our +revenge and sent a few of ’em under! I’d like to shove the survivors +overboard after ’em, but suppose I can’t, worse luck! Is someone looking +after ’em?” + +“Yes,” said Munro with a grin. “At present they’re sitting round the +galley fire drinking hot Bovril!” + +“We’re a jolly sight too soft-hearted!” Travers retorted bitterly. + + * * * * * + +Some fifteen hours later the _Tavy_, minus her after funnel and looking +very battered and war-worn, limped into a certain port. The news of her +exploit had already been transmitted by wireless, and when she steamed +slowly up the harbour on her way to the dockyard, the crews of all the +other ships present thronged on deck and cheered themselves hoarse. + +The next day a brief announcement from the Admiralty appeared in the +morning papers:-- + + On the morning of Thursday last the German armed steamer _Pelikan_, + which has lately been responsible for the sinking of several + British steamers on the Atlantic trade routes, was encountered in + the English Channel by H.M. destroyer _Tavy_ (Lieutenant Robert H. + Travers, R.N.). After a brief but spirited engagement, the enemy + was sunk by a torpedo. One officer and twenty men, three of whom + have since succumbed to their injuries, were rescued. Our losses + were very slight. + + +PRINTED BY +WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. +PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[A] Nakhuda, i.e. the native captain of a dhow. + +[B] Coir rope has the advantage of floating, though it has only +one-third of the strength of hemp rope of the same diameter. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77262 *** diff --git a/77262-h/77262-h.htm b/77262-h/77262-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa696dc --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/77262-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5116 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + <head> +<link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> +<title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sea, Spray And Spindrift, by “Taffrail”. +</title> +<style> + +a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + + link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + +a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} + +a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} + +body{margin-left:4%;margin-right:6%;background:#ffffff;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} + +.bbox {border:solid 3px black; 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margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +.toc {margin:1em auto;max-width:18em; +border:2px solid black;text-indent:0%;text-align:center;} +</style> + </head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77262 ***</div> +<hr class="full"> + +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</a><br> +<a href="#LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</a><br> +<a href="#FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES.</a> + +</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/cover.jpg"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="358" height="550" alt=""></a> +</div> + +<p class="cb">SEA, SPRAY AND SPINDRIFT</p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="c">WORKS BY “TAFFRAIL”</p> + +<p class="nind"> +CARRY ON!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Naval Sketches and Stories.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">1/- net, PEARSON.</span><br> +<br> +STAND BY!<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Naval Sketches and Stories.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">1/- net, PEARSON.</span><br> +<br> +MINOR OPERATIONS<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Naval Stories.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">1/- net, PEARSON.</span><br> +<br> +OFF SHORE<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Naval Sketches and Stories.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">1/- net, PEARSON.</span><br> +<br> +PINCHER MARTIN, O.D.<br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A Story of the Navy.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">(CHAMBERS.)</span><br> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" id="ill_001"> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="355" height="550" alt=""></a> +<br> +<span class="caption">“The torpedo must have struck her forward.... She seemed +to be sinking fast.”<br><br> + +<i>Frontispiece</i> <i>See <a href="#page_156">page 156</a></i><br> +</span> +</div> + +<h1> +SEA, SPRAY AND<br> +SPINDRIFT</h1> + +<p class="cb">NAVAL YARNS<br> +<br> +BY<br> +<br> +“TAFFRAIL”<br> +<br> +<small>AUTHOR OF<br> +“CARRY ON!” “PINCHER MARTIN, O.D.”<br> +ETC., ETC.<br></small> +<br> +<i>With Eight Full-page Illustrations by<br> +W. E. Wigfull & H. Sotheby Pitcher.</i><br> +<br> +Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company<br> +London: C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.<br> +1917<br> +<br><br><br> + +<i>Printed in England</i></p> + +<h2><a id="PREFACE">PREFACE</a></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">These</span> stories were not originally written with a view to their ultimate +reappearance in book form, and most of them were written some while ago. +“Tubby’s Dhow” was first published in Herbert Strang’s <i>Annual for +Boys</i>; “The Stranding of the <i>Hoi-Hau</i>,” “The Salvage of the <i>Cashmere</i>” +and “The Luck of the <i>Tavy</i>,” in the <i>Scout</i>; “The Gunner’s Luck,” in +the <i>Weekly Telegraph</i>; “The Inner Patrol,” in the <i>Royal Magazine</i>; +“Horatio Nelson Chivers” and “The Escape of the <i>Speedwell</i>,” in the +<i>British Boys’ Annual</i> (Messrs. Cassell & Co., Ltd.), and “The +Gun-runners,” in the <i>St. George’s Magazine</i>. I wish to acknowledge my +indebtedness to the respective Editors who have so kindly allowed me to +republish my work in book form.</p> + +<p>It is needless to remark that all my characters are fictitious.</p> + +<p class="rt"> +“<span class="smcap">Taffrail.</span>”<br> +</p> + +<p>1917.</p> + +<h2><a id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></h2> + +<table> +<tr><td colspan="2">  </td><td><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#I">I.</a></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#I">Tubby’s Dhow</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#II">II.</a></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#II">The Stranding of the “Hoi-Hau”</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_32">32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#III">III.</a></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#III">The Gunner’s Luck</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_49">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#IV">IV.</a></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#IV">Horatio Nelson Chivers</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#V">V.</a></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#V">The Salvage of the “Cashmere”</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_84">84</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#VI">VI.</a></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#VI">The Inner Patrol</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#VII">VII.</a></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#VII">The Gun-runners</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#VIII">VIII.</a></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#VIII">The Escape of the “Speedwell”</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#IX">IX.</a></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#IX">The Luck of the “Tavy”</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_147">147</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><a id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</a></h2> + +<table> +<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ill_001">The torpedo must have struck her forward</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#ill_001"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td>  </td><td><small>TO FACE PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ill_002">Tubby, making a sudden spring, hit him full on the point of the jaw</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ill_003">Jim saw the masts of the native craft falling, whilst masses of debris were flung skyward by the force of the powerful explosive</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_47">47</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ill_004">He saw to his inexpressible relief that the entrance to Salhanda Bay was in sight</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_57">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ill_005">“It’s laudanum. Here, take it and hide it somewhere”</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ill_006">The fiery trail of a rocket leapt out from the darkness</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_89">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ill_007">He seized the axe and made a wild slash</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_142">142</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="pdd"><a href="#ill_008">The glare died away, but not before he had caught a fleeting glimpse of the dark shape of a vessel</a></td><td class="rt"><a href="#page_150">150</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_9">{9}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="SEA_SPRAY_AND_SPINDRIFT">SEA, SPRAY AND SPINDRIFT</a></h2> + +<h2><a id="I">I</a><br><br> +TUBBY’S DHOW</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="nind">“<span class="smcap">Oh</span>, blow this Arabic!” exclaimed the midshipman petulantly, shutting up +the phrase book on the table before him with a bang and leaning back to +stretch himself.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter now, Tubby?” asked a small officer called Travers, +who, by reason of his rather shrill voice, always went by the name of +“Squeaker.”</p> + +<p>“Tubby,” otherwise Midshipman Arthur Geoffrey Plantagenet, Royal Navy, +mopped his face for a minute before replying. It must be admitted that +he fully deserved his nickname, for in appearance he was short and very +rotund, and was the proud possessor of a bright red face, a crop of +freckles, and a shock of sandy hair. His <i>tout ensemble</i> was not +prepossessing, but his even white teeth and blue eyes saved him from +being absolutely ugly, particularly when he laughed.</p> + +<p>“What was that you said, Squeaker?” he said at last.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_10">{10}</a></span></p> + +<p>“I asked you what was the matter.”</p> + +<p>“It’s this heat,” Tubby complained. “One can’t do any work while it’s +like this!”</p> + +<p>Their ship—H.M.S. <i>Clytia</i>, light cruiser—was in the Gulf of Oman, and +it certainly was over-poweringly hot; for the pitch bubbled in the seams +on deck, while the awnings overhead seemed to collect rather than +mitigate the heat from the blazing sun above.</p> + +<p>“But why d’you want to learn Arabic?” asked Travers after another pause.</p> + +<p>“Because I want to know the language, silly!” retorted Plantagenet. “I +know all you fellows jeered at me when I took it up, but though I’ve +only been at it six months I know quite enough to make myself understood +ashore.”</p> + +<p>“But—— ” the other was about to protest.</p> + +<p>“Be quiet, you two!” growled a drowsy sub-lieutenant from a deck chair. +“Can’t you let a fellow get to sleep?”</p> + +<p>It was a “make and mend” afternoon, which in other words meant that all +the midshipmen had a half-holiday. It followed, therefore, since the +ship was at sea and they could not get ashore, that the greater number +of them followed the usual custom of the Service and spent it in sleep. +The small curtained-off inclosure on the upper deck, serving for the +time being as the gunroom, since the heat down below was quite +unendurable, was full of young officers stretched out on forms and deck +chairs in various stages of drowsiness and deshabille. Tubby and +Travers, in fact, the latter of whom had been industriously writing up +his journal, were the only two members of the little community who were +awake.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_11">{11}</a></span></p> + +<p>“I say, Squeaker,” whispered the former, glancing round to see if the +sub-lieutenant was asleep, “you know we’re anchoring off one of the +villages at daylight to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I heard the skipper telling the commander that all the officers +who could be spared could go ashore for a run, snotties as well. It ’ud +be rather a good idea if you and I took our guns. We might get Molyneux +to come too,” he added, referring to one of the other midshipmen.</p> + +<p>“I’m all for it,” agreed Squeaker; “but is there anything to shoot?”</p> + +<p>“I dare say. I had a look at the chart this afternoon, and about five +miles along the coast from where we’ll anchor there’s some cover a short +way inland. It’s not far from a village. I vote we go in that +direction.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Travers; “but d’you think it’ll be quite safe?”</p> + +<p>“Of course, it will; why shouldn’t it be?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard that all these villagers are in league with the gun-runners +we’re trying to catch,” explained the other. “It would be rather a bad +look-out if we got caught.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all rot,” put in Tubby. “They won’t hurt us. You’ll come, I +suppose?”</p> + +<p>“You bet.”</p> + +<p>“All right. That’s fixed up. I know Molyneux’ll be keen.”</p> + +<p>To understand the exact nature of the operations in which the <i>Clytia</i> +was taking part, it is necessary to refer to the map. The native dhows +carrying arms and ammunition usually left different places on the Oman +and Pirate coasts of Arabia, their<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_12">{12}</a></span> destinations being the small bays +and creeks between Lingah and Charbar on the Mekran coast. On being +disembarked, the weapons were loaded on camels and taken inland to +Afghanistan, where, subsequently, they were used by the tribesmen +against the British forces on the northern frontier of India.</p> + +<p>To guard against this gun-running, so prejudicial to British interests, +the Oman and Pirate coasts and the Mekran coast of Persia were being +patrolled by cruisers, while further inshore a ceaseless watch was +maintained by the boats of the Squadron.</p> + +<p>For two weeks the <i>Clytia</i> had been cruising slowly up and down between +Charbar and Jask, this being the portion of coast she had been detailed +to watch, while her four largest sailing boats, carrying Maxim guns, and +with their crews fully armed, had been sent away in charge of her +lieutenants. They were each responsible for about thirty miles of coast, +and had orders to search all the inner anchorages and small bays, and to +overhaul and examine all the native craft they came across.</p> + +<p>Each week the ship met her small fry at previously determined +rendezvous, and on these occasions she received their reports, +replenished their stock of water and food, and, if necessary, relieved +the crews. But though the watch had been carried on with tireless +vigilance, nothing had happened and no dhows with arms on board had been +seized.</p> + +<p>The men were beginning to weary of the ceaseless monotony. There was no +excitement to keep them going, and for a lieutenant, several seamen,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_13">{13}</a></span> a +signalman and a native interpreter to be herded together in a small +undecked boat about 28 feet long, was not altogether comfortable. They +had to live, eat and sleep as best they could, and though sometimes they +did get ashore on a barren stretch of sand, where they would amuse +themselves in the cool of the evening by kicking a football about, they +were getting sick of it. The weather, too, was not always fine, for at +times the boats would be compelled to anchor off the coast to ride out a +strong “Shamal,” or north-westerly gale. This was always a most trying +experience, but the only other alternative was to land up some creek, +and this, as a rule, was too hazardous to be attempted, for the +inhabitants were generally hostile, and would not hesitate to attack if +they had the least chance of success.</p> + +<p>Tubby’s proposed expedition, therefore, was not quite so safe as he +imagined.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Early the next morning the <i>Clytia</i> anchored off a small village on the +coast some distance to the eastward of Jask. She was to remain till the +following morning, and all the officers and men who could be spared from +duty, including the midshipmen, were sent ashore to stretch their legs.</p> + +<p>Directly they landed, Tubby, Travers and Molyneux set off to the +eastward along the coast. They were burdened with their guns, cartridge +bags and water-bottles, and on account of the great heat soon found +progress very trying. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_14">{14}</a></span> route led them across large tracts of dry +powdery sand, into which they sank up to their ankles, through +occasional patches of thick scrub, which were difficult to negotiate, +and by the time they neared their destination they were all three tired +out, hot, and very thirsty, in spite of the copious draughts of water +they had swallowed on the way. There was not a tree in the place under +which they could sit for protection from the sun, and they all wanted +rest badly.</p> + +<p>“What d’you think we’d better do, Tubby?” asked Molyneux, stopping to +lace up his boot. “I feel like a spell in the shade, but there’s not a +tree in sight anywhere.”</p> + +<p>“I’m tired of marching about like this,” agreed the young officer +addressed. “What do you think about it, Squeaker?”</p> + +<p>The youth looked round for some moments without replying. “I think,” he +remarked at length, “we might go on to that village and see if they’ll +let us sit down in one of their houses for a bit. The place’ll smell +like fury, but it’s either that or no spell.” He pointed to the small +collection of mud hovels about half a mile ahead.</p> + +<p>“Um, yes,” agreed Tubby. “I suppose that’s what we’d better do. Come +on!”</p> + +<p>They tramped forward, but had not advanced more than two hundred yards +when they saw a man advancing along the beach towards them. He was clad +in a dirty white burnous and, coming forward, raised his hand in a sort +of military salute, and showed his teeth in a grin.</p> + +<p>“You shoot?” he asked in English.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Tubby.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_15">{15}</a></span></p> + +<p>“I good guide, tell where you get plenty big bird,” said the new-comer, +tapping himself on the chest and then pointing inland.</p> + +<p>“We want to sit down for a bit,” explained Molyneux. “Have you a house +in that village?”</p> + +<p>“I got good house; you come see,” said the man, pointing over his +shoulder. “My name Takadin. Engleesh call me Jack Robinson. Very good +name. I been Bombay, Aden, and plenty big town. I know plenty +Engleeshman. I very good man.”</p> + +<p>“Where did you learn English?” Tubby asked.</p> + +<p>“I sailor B.1 boat, long time,” answered the Arab.</p> + +<p>“What d’you think?” Tubby asked his companions. “Shall we go with him?”</p> + +<p>“I vote we do,” they both said at once, for they were very tired; and +led by their new friend, they were soon in what was evidently the main +street of the village.</p> + +<p>It was really nothing more nor less than a narrow passage-way between +two rows of very tumbledown-looking one-storeyed mud hovels, and the +advent of Europeans was evidently regarded by the inhabitants as +something quite out of the ordinary. Half-a-dozen mangy-looking curs +sniffed suspiciously at their heels, while tribes of small brown +children, clad in the sketchiest of garments, gazed at the foreigners +open-mouthed with amazement. Numbers of men, dressed in dirty white +robes, eyed them with evil, scowling faces, and it was quite obvious +that whatever feelings for the British Mr. “Jack Robinson” had, these +Arabs were none too friendly. There was something insolent in the way +they laughed, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_16">{16}</a></span> in their glowering, sullen glances, and one or two of +them, Tubby noticed, spat on the ground after the little procession had +passed.</p> + +<p>The boy felt nervous, for there was no mistaking the hostility of the +natives; but it was too late to draw back now, nor, for the time being, +could he impart his fears to his companions. He was thinking how sorry +he was not to have taken the advice of people who knew better than he +did, when their guide suddenly stopped before a low doorway.</p> + +<p>“This my house!” he exclaimed with an air of pride. “Very good house!”</p> + +<p>The midshipmen did not think much of it, for it was distinctly on its +last legs, but followed him inside. The room they found themselves in +contained little in the way of furniture, but asking them to sit down on +a kind of couch running along one side of the wall, the Arab pushed +aside a mat hanging across the doorway leading into the inner room, and +disappeared inside. Judging from the shrill cackle that went on as soon +as he entered, the ladies of the establishment were within, but the +noise was rather welcome, for it gave Tubby a chance of talking to his +friends without being overheard.</p> + +<p>“I say, Molyneux,” he said in a whisper, “I vote we clear out of this +village as soon as we can. Did you see how those fellows looked at us as +we came along?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I did,” answered the other rather nervously. “D’you think they +mean any harm, though?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t think so; the ship’s too close. I wish we hadn’t come, for +all that. Whatever<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_17">{17}</a></span> you do, keep your guns loaded, and don’t let go of +them.” He noiselessly slipped a couple of cartridges into the breech of +his weapon.</p> + +<p>“Look out!” hissed Travers. “The Arab’s coming back!”</p> + +<p>“Mum’s the word then,” whispered Tubby; “but we’ll clear out as soon as +we can, and for goodness’ sake don’t let’s get separated!”</p> + +<p>There was no time for further conversation, for just at that moment the +mat was pushed aside and Takadin came in with a tray, on which there +were several small bowls filled with dates and a few nasty-looking +native cakes.</p> + +<p>“Please to eat,” he said with a deprecatory smile. “I poor man; Engleesh +my friend.”</p> + +<p>The food did not look very appetising, but now it had been brought the +boys could not very well refuse to eat for fear of being thought +uncivil, and selecting some dates, as being the most harmless, began to +nibble at them. The sandwiches out of their haversacks, however, were +far more to their liking, and giving one or two to Takadin in return for +his hospitality, they had soon made a satisfactory meal, which they +washed down with water from their bottles. Having eaten, Tubby felt more +cheerful, and was beginning to forget his fears, when a figure appeared +in the doorway leading to the street outside.</p> + +<p>Their host instantly rose to his feet and made a low obeisance to the +new-comer, a tall, fine-looking, white-bearded Arab clad in the +inevitable burnous. He was evidently of better class than the other men +they had seen, and judging from Takadin’s behaviour that he was a +notability<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_18">{18}</a></span> of some kind, the boys stood up and bowed. Their salutation +was returned.</p> + +<p>“Peace be unto thee, my son,” said the new arrival, addressing Takadin.</p> + +<p>He spoke in Arabic, but Tubby had little difficulty in understanding his +words.</p> + +<p>“Peace be unto thee, my father,” returned their host, bowing again.</p> + +<p>“What do these dogs of infidels under thy roof?” demanded the Sheikh, +for such he was, and casting a piercing glance from his black eyes at +the three boys.</p> + +<p>“They come, my father, from the war vessel anchored off the coast. They +came seeking shelter from the sun.”</p> + +<p>“Dogs!” hissed the old man. “Spawn of the devil! May their eyes be +blasted with the fire which never languishes! By the Beard of the +Prophet, my son, thou didst a good stroke of business in sheltering +them!”</p> + +<p>Tubby gave a start of surprise which nearly betrayed him.</p> + +<p>“But I came, O Takadin,” he went on to say, “to have a word with thee. +’Tis only for thine ear.”</p> + +<p>“Speak on, my father; my women are out of hearing, and the unbelievers +have no knowledge of our tongue.”</p> + +<p>Tubby, half beside himself with apprehension and excitement, listened +intently, trying hard not to let his face betray the fact that he +understood most of what was being said. But the Sheikh was talking +again.</p> + +<p>“The dhow from Oman with the rifles my son, when does she arrive?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_19">{19}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Seven days from now, my father, at the spot close by the watch tower. +The camels will be ready, thy servant has seen to that, and the +nakhuda<a id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> has orders to land them four hours after the setting of the +sun.”</p> + +<p>“It is well. I like not these dogs of hillmen in our midst. They strip +us bare like a flock of locusts. I like them not, they and their camels. +I shall give thanks to Allah when they depart.”</p> + +<p>“Even so, my father,” agreed Takadin. “They are carrion fit only for +vultures.”</p> + +<p>“Speak no word to any man of what we have said,” ordered the Sheikh.</p> + +<p>“Thy servant’s lips are sealed, my father.”</p> + +<p>“But these unbelievers, my son, who have fallen into our hands. A ransom +will not come amiss.”</p> + +<p>“Their war vessel is very close, my father, and our village will surely +be laid in ruins if they should be harmed.”</p> + +<p>The Sheikh made a gesture of annoyance. “Thou art my servant, O +Takadin!” he exclaimed angrily. “What I have said I have said!”</p> + +<p>“Even so, my father,” said the other, with a cringing bow.</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis well. Delay them here till I return; I go to seek my men. The +infidels shall be detained. By Allah! Would that I had the opportunity +to sear their flesh with red-hot pincers! To make them food for the +vultures of the desert!” With which terrible wish the Sheikh +disappeared.</p> + +<p>For a second or two Tubby was absolutely nonplussed by what he had +heard. Takadin would certainly carry out his orders if he could, and in +a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_20">{20}</a></span> minute or two the chief would probably return with his men. The boy +racked his brains for a way out of the difficulty. To escape through the +village was an obvious impossibility, for they would have to run the +gauntlet of all the inhabitants. Then the boy’s memory came to his +assistance. He suddenly recollected the topography of the place, and +how, when walking down the street, he had seen a little strip of blue +sea at the end of it. He remembered, also, that when they were +approaching the village he had noticed a low wooden pier with a boat +made fast alongside it. Here was a solution. The house they were in +could not be more than two hundred yards from the water. They must make +a dash for the boat. All these thoughts flashed through his mind, but +what had to be done must be done at once.</p> + +<p>“I say, Molyneux!” he said in an excited whisper, “be ready to make a +dash as soon as I do!”</p> + +<p>“Whatever for?” asked the other, “what’s all the——?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t tell you now,” hissed Tubby, “but it’s jolly serious. Be ready +to make a bolt for the sea; you too, Travers.”</p> + +<p>The other two looked at each other in amazement, for they could not +conceive what had happened, but they both followed Tubby’s example when +he stood up with his gun.</p> + +<p>Takadin noticed what was going on. “You no go,” he said with a +treacherous smile, “you stay my house. I very—— ”</p> + +<p>But he got no further, for Tubby, making a sudden spring, hit him full +on the point of the jaw.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" id="ill_002"> +<a href="images/i_020.jpg"> +<img src="images/i_020.jpg" width="361" height="550" alt=""></a> +<br> +<span class="caption">“Tubby, making a sudden spring, hit him full on the point +of the jaw.”<br><br> +<i>To face <a href="#page_20">page 20</a></i><br> +</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_21">{21}</a></span></p> + +<p>The Arab was quite unprepared for the sudden attack and staggered +backwards, and another severe punch laid him flat on the ground.</p> + +<p>“Run!” yelled the assailant to his companions, “run for all you’re +worth!”</p> + +<p>He dashed out of the door followed by the others, and as he emerged he +caught a hurried glimpse of the Sheikh and half-a-dozen men coming down +the street from the right. The latter shouted and promptly started off +in pursuit, but the boys made for the sea at full pelt, the din behind +making them run all the faster.</p> + +<p>Every second Tubby expected to hear a bullet whistling by his ears, but, +though he did not know it till later, the Arabs carried no firearms. +Still, the situation was quite bad enough, for though nobody tried to +intercept them in their flight, they could hear their pursuers padding +along close behind.</p> + +<p>On and on they flew until, after what seemed an eternity, they reached +the end of the lane and saw the open sea before them, and the wooden +jetty, with the boat still made fast alongside it, a short distance to +the left. Tubby’s breath came in great gasps, his head throbbed, and he +felt as if his heart would burst, but he tore on with the others close +behind.</p> + +<p>By the time they reached the shore end of the pier, however, the leading +Arab, who was some distance ahead of his friends, was barely three feet +behind Molyneux, the last of the three. The man suddenly nerved himself +for a supreme effort, and springing forward seized the boy by the +shoulder. Molyneux promptly swerved in his stride, but tripped, and +before he quite knew what had<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_22">{22}</a></span> happened had fallen headlong on his face. +The Arab, unable to stop himself, still came on, and catching his foot +in the prostrate boy’s body, gave a loud yell and disappeared over the +edge of the pier into the water.</p> + +<p>Tubby, hearing the commotion, glanced round to see what had happened, +and, stopping himself suddenly, turned round and dashed back to his +fallen friend. Travers also checked himself, not knowing what to do.</p> + +<p>“Get into the boat!” Tubby yelled to him, noticing his indecision. “Get +in and cast her off!”</p> + +<p>The small midshipman clambered on board and began to fumble with the +painter, while Tubby put back the safety catch of his hammerless gun and +held it ready. The other Arabs, meanwhile, had just reached the shore +end of the pier, and to the boy’s relief he suddenly noticed that none +of them carried firearms.</p> + +<p>“If you come any further I’ll fire!” he shouted breathlessly in their +own language. “Get up, Molyneux!” he added in English. “Get down into +the boat and cover ’em with your gun!”</p> + +<p>Molyneux sprang to his feet and joined Travers in the boat.</p> + +<p>The Arabs had halted when they heard Tubby’s hail, and were now talking +excitedly among themselves, but then one of them drew a long +evil-looking knife and made a step forward.</p> + +<p>Tubby promptly covered him. “Drop that or I fire!” he commanded. To his +intense surprise the man obeyed his peremptory order.</p> + +<p>“Thou son of a pig!” bellowed the enraged Sheikh. “Wouldst thou obey the +command of an<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_23">{23}</a></span> infidel? Seize him, I say! Seize him!” But the men did +not like the look of the gun muzzles confronting them, and still hung +back.</p> + +<p>“Come on!” shouted Travers at length, “I’ve cast her off!”</p> + +<p>“Have you got ’em covered?” asked Tubby.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” cried Molyneux, squinting along his weapon.</p> + +<p>Tubby walked backwards until he came to where the boat lay, and then +jumped on board.</p> + +<p>“By Allah! Thou craven sons of pigs!” yelled the Sheikh. “They would +steal the boat! At them!”</p> + +<p>The men came panting along the low jetty, but it was too late, for by +the time they reached the end the boat was a good half-dozen yards away. +They could do nothing; there was no other boat in which they could give +chase, and they had to content themselves by throwing strange curses at +the three boys who had outwitted them.</p> + +<p>“By George!” remarked Tubby breathlessly, tugging at one of the clumsy +oars, “that was a jolly narrow squeak! I thought they had us!”</p> + +<p>“I regarded it as a dead cert!” said Molyneux gravely.</p> + +<p>A gentle south-westerly breeze had sprung up, and five minutes later, as +the discomfited Arabs were leaving the pier, the sail had been hoisted, +and the boat was bowling along the coast towards the spot where the +adventurers had landed.</p> + +<p>As soon as he recovered his breath, Tubby told his companions of the +conversation he had overheard, and their eyes opened wider and wider +with astonishment as he went on.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_24">{24}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, what d’you propose to do?” queried Molyneux, when at length the +tale was told.</p> + +<p>“Tell the commander,” said Tubby. “But I say, you fellows, not a word of +this to anyone else!”</p> + +<p>“Right O!” they both agreed.</p> + +<p>There is no necessity to describe the homeward journey, or how, after +sailing about three miles along the coast, they landed, left the boat on +the beach, and finished the journey on foot.</p> + +<p>But that evening Tubby summoned up his courage, and in an interview with +the commander told him all he had heard. But that officer, though he +promised to inform the captain, did not realise how much Arabic the boy +really knew, and at any rate it was quite obvious that he did not +believe his story.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Three mornings later, when the <i>Clytia</i> had resumed her weary patrol of +the coast, a messenger suddenly burst into the place where Tubby was +endeavouring to work out a sight under the direction of the naval +instructor.</p> + +<p>“Beg pardon, sir,” said the man, “but is Mr. Plantagenet ’ere?”</p> + +<p>“Here I am,” said that young officer. “What is it?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, th’ capten wants you on th’ bridge at once.”</p> + +<p>Tubby dashed off, and on reaching the bridge went up to the captain and +saluted. “You sent for me, sir?” he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_25">{25}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Plantagenet. The commander tells me you know Arabic. Is that +so?”</p> + +<p>“I know a little, sir,” Tubby modestly answered.</p> + +<p>“Enough to understand conversations when you hear ’em, eh?” asked the +captain with a twinkle in his eye.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, be ready to leave the ship in ten minutes’ time. The native +interpreter in the third cutter,” he waved his hand to where the boat +they had just met lay alongside, “is down with fever, and you’ll have to +go instead of him. I do not, Mr. Plantagenet, approve of your going +visiting native villages when you go ashore, you must understand, but I +suppose you remember whereabouts this one was?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly, sir,” said Tubby.</p> + +<p>“So much the better, then. You may perhaps be able to bring back that +dhow you heard the men talking about. Hurry up now, collect what you +want, and then report yourself to Mr. Thompson, who is in charge of the +boat.”</p> + +<p>The midshipman dashed off to his chest, without stopping even to tell +his messmates of what had occurred, and hurrying back on deck again +reported himself as ordered.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later the ship had left them and was steaming off to the +westward, and the cutter, hoisting her sails to the light off-shore +breeze, resumed her work of watching the coast.</p> + +<p>“But are you quite certain of what you’ve just told me?” asked Thompson, +rather incredulously, when, an hour later, Tubby imparted his secret.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_26">{26}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, quite,” said the boy. “I told the commander directly I got on +board, and he told the skip—the captain, sir. He evidently believes it, +sir. I’m quite certain myself, too,” he reiterated.</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll have a try at this dhow of yours, and if we do get her, +it’ll be a bit of a feather in your cap, young man.”</p> + +<p>Tubby looked very pleased.</p> + +<p>“Luckily,” continued the lieutenant, “the watch tower you mention is on +our beat. Just to the east’ard of the village where you went. You say +they were to land the stuff four hours after sunset four days from now. +Is that correct?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, at that time, close on midnight, I should think it ’ud be, this +boat’ll pull into the bay by the watch tower, and, with any luck, +granted of course that this yarn of yours is all right, we’ll collar ’em +red-handed.”</p> + +<p>Tubby sincerely hoped they would. He did not want to be made a fool of.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>The night was very dark with no moon; hardly a ripple disturbed the +glassy surface of the water, and silently, for her oars were muffled, +the cutter crept on.</p> + +<p>“There’s the watch tower!” said Thompson in a whisper, pointing away to +the port bow where a dim shape could just be seen against the blue of +the sky.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_27">{27}</a></span></p> + +<p>Tubby took his watch out of his pocket and held it close to the shaded +lantern in the stern of the boat. “By Jove!” he ejaculated.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” Thompson inquired.</p> + +<p>“It’s nearly one o’clock, sir,” the boy replied anxiously. “She ought to +be here by now.” Then a sudden horrible thought flashed through his +mind. “I clean forgot!” he exclaimed in an agitated whisper.</p> + +<p>“Forgot what?”</p> + +<p>“That when the Arabs chased us I talked to ’em in Arabic, sir. They’ll +know that I understood what was said about the rifles, and they may have +been able to tell the dhow to go somewhere else. Suppose—— ” but he +was interrupted by the coxswain.</p> + +<p>“I thought I seed somethink over there, sir,” whispered the man +excitedly, pointing to starboard. “A sort o’ shadow like—— Yessir,” he +suddenly broke off, “there’s somethink there right enough!”</p> + +<p>“Hard-a-port! Steer straight for it!” ordered the lieutenant, seeing +what the man was pointing at.</p> + +<p>Before they had gone fifty yards in the new direction the shadow +resolved itself into the familiar outline of a dhow heading in for the +land. The wind had dropped, but those in the cutter could hear the +creaking of her sweeps as she approached. Nearer and nearer she drew. +Three hundred yards—two hundred—one hundred. Tubby unbuttoned the +holster of his revolver and waited; the seconds seemed interminable. +Then, quite suddenly, the Arabs became aware that they were not alone, +for a loud hail came out of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_28">{28}</a></span> darkness. “Is that thou, O Takadin?” +yelled a voice in Arabic, its owner probably thinking that a boat must +have come out from the village to guide them into the anchorage.</p> + +<p>“Tell ’em to heave to!” ordered Thompson.</p> + +<p>Tubby did so.</p> + +<p>“Name of Allah!” shrieked the voice in alarm. “Arm yourselves, my +brothers! The Kafir dogs are upon us!”</p> + +<p>A spit of flame broke out from the black shape ahead, and a bullet sang +off into the darkness.</p> + +<p>“Give ’em a round or two from the maxim!” cried Thompson.</p> + +<p>“Pop, pop, pop—pop, pop,” went the little weapon.</p> + +<p>A chorus of yells and shrieks came from the dhow, and the movement of +her oars ceased abruptly as the crew sprang for their weapons. No +further shots were fired, but a few sturdy strokes brought the cutter +alongside, and boating their oars the bluejackets endeavoured to board. +But the vessel’s high bulwarks were lined with armed Arabs, who slashed +and hewed with their swords whenever a head appeared over the gunwale. +Twice were the sailors driven back into their boat by sheer weight of +superior numbers, and for a time the result hung in the balance, for +even with their cutlasses and revolvers they could not gain a footing on +the enemy’s deck.</p> + +<p>Thompson, however, summed up the situation, and noticing that the +greater number of the enemy were busy repelling the attack from the +stern of the boat, suddenly leapt forward and clambered on board the +dhow from there, before anyone<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_29">{29}</a></span> could arrive to resist him. He was +followed by three men, and the instant they were seen, all the Arabs +came forward to drive them back. This diversion gave the others the +opportunity they wanted, and before he quite understood what had +happened, Tubby found himself scrambling on board followed by the men. +Rushing forward, with a revolver in one hand and a drawn cutlass in the +other, he instantly found himself confronted by a tall Arab armed with a +curved sword. The man made a wild slash, his keen blade whistling within +a couple of inches of the midshipman’s shoulder, but before he could +recover himself Tubby’s revolver spoke, and the man collapsed in a heap. +Another assailant came at him with a pistol, and while the boy was still +fumbling with his weapon, for it was very dark, there was a spit of +flame, a loud report, and he felt a burning sensation in his left arm. +He dropped his revolver with the pain, but before his attacker could do +further damage, a bluejacket had felled him with the butt of a rifle.</p> + +<p>It was a ghastly business, for the Arabs were desperate, and the British +had their work cut out. The sharp reports of rifles and revolvers, the +dull thudding of falling blades, the shouts of the sailors, and the wild +yells of the enemy, converted the peaceful night into a seething +pandemonium of sound. But it could not last for very long, for at last +only three Arabs remained, and these, fighting desperately, had been +driven into a corner.</p> + +<p>“Ask ’em if they’ll surrender,” panted Thompson. “Tell ’em they won’t be +killed.”</p> + +<p>Tubby did so, and the men dropped their<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_30">{30}</a></span> weapons with a clatter. It was +the last thing he remembered, for, overcome by the pain of his wound, he +suddenly collapsed in a heap on the deck.</p> + +<p>Thompson sprang forward to his assistance. “What’s the matter, +Plantagenet?” he asked, not knowing the boy was wounded.</p> + +<p>But Tubby had fainted.</p> + +<p class="astt">. . . . . .</p> + +<p>The next day the captured dhow, which was found to have on board 2500 +rifles and many thousands of rounds of ammunition, met H.M.S. <i>Clytia</i>. +The wounded, for by some miraculous chance none of the boat’s crew had +been killed, were transferred to the ship, and Tubby, who was only +slightly wounded, at once found himself a regular hero, and the subject +of envy from all his messmates. He pretended to hate this notoriety, +especially when the captain sent for and congratulated him personally, +but his cup of happiness was not yet full.</p> + +<p>About six months later, when the ship was at Colombo, Tubby was again +ushered into his commanding officer’s presence.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Plantagenet,” said the captain, “I have been directed by My Lords +Commissioners of the Admiralty to inform you that your name has been +noted for early promotion to the rank of lieutenant on your passing the +necessary examinations.” He looked up with a twinkle in his eye to see +how the boy took it.</p> + +<p>“Sir!” gasped the midshipman, hardly able to believe his ears.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_31">{31}</a></span></p> + +<p>The captain handed him the paper he had been reading. “Read it +yourself,” he said.</p> + +<p>Tubby stared at the typewritten sheets in amazement. He had had no +inkling of this. He, Arthur Geoffrey Plantagenet—oh, really it was too +much. He burst out into a delighted chuckle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_32">{32}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="II">II</a><br><br> +THE STRANDING OF THE HOI-HAU</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="nind">“<span class="smcap">Pirates</span>!” laughed the mate. “Of course there are. Why d’you ask?”</p> + +<p>“I was reading in a book this afternoon that there were no such things +nowadays,” replied the boy. “But tell me,” he queried anxiously, “do +they still kill people, and make them walk the plank, and all that sort +of thing?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t think they make ’em walk the plank,” answered the mate, cutting +himself another slice of bread. “But nearly every Chinese fisherman is a +pirate at heart, and some of ’em ’ud think nothing of attacking a ship +if they had half a chance.”</p> + +<p>“Do they come out to sea, then?” asked Jim excitedly, for the subject +fascinated him.</p> + +<p>“No, there are too many gunboats and cruisers knocking about, but if a +junk full of Chinamen came across a defenceless ship they’d attack her +all right, and kill every soul on board if they resisted. They’re born +thieves when there’s any loot to be had—aren’t they, sir?” he asked, +turning to the captain.</p> + +<p>“Aye, that they are,” agreed Captain McCaul.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_33">{33}</a></span> “I’ve heard of a good many +cases where they’ve done it.”</p> + +<p>“Is that why we’ve got those rifles on board, then?” asked Jim, who +remembered having seen half-a-dozen weapons in a rack in the chartroom.</p> + +<p>The mate and skipper nodded together.</p> + +<p>The three of them, Captain McCaul, Mr. Dowell, the mate, and Jim McCaul, +the captain’s son, were sitting at supper in the saloon of the steamer +<i>Hoi-Hau</i>, now steaming up the Yellow Sea on her way from Shanghai to +the North China ports with a general cargo.</p> + +<p>The <i>Hoi-Hau</i> was rather an old tub, and though his owners had offered +Captain McCaul the command of one of their larger vessels, the gruff old +Scotsman had preferred to remain where he was. His wife and family lived +in Shanghai, and as the ship was engaged in the North China trade, he +saw more of his home than if he were in command of a passenger boat.</p> + +<p>Jim McCaul, his eldest son, a boy of fifteen, was at school at Shanghai, +and with the idea of giving him a change the skipper frequently took him +to sea when the holidays came round.</p> + +<p>The boy naturally looked upon his occasional sea trips as a great treat, +for besides giving him the opportunity of seeing all sorts of strange +places, Mr. Dowell took a great interest in him, and it was really due +to the officer’s coaching that Jim had become quite a good seaman.</p> + +<p>Supper was soon over, and, accompanied by his son, Captain McCaul left +the saloon and clambered up on to the bridge. The sun had set, and +overhead the stars were beginning to twinkle in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_34">{34}</a></span> sky, while there +was hardly a breath of wind to mar the smooth surface of the sea.</p> + +<p>“By George!” exclaimed Jim, “it’s a ripping night!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know so much about that,” growled the skipper, sniffing the air. +“I’d rather have a little breeze. With calm weather like this we may +find ourselves in for a fog off the Shantung Promontory. What d’you +think about it, Martin?” he asked the second mate, who happened to be on +watch.</p> + +<p>“Don’t like it at all, sir,” replied that officer.</p> + +<p>The captain grunted.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “we ought to be rounding the Promontory at about three +o’clock to-morrow morning. I’ll turn in now, as I shall be on deck at +midnight. Call me at once if it comes on thick.”</p> + +<p>McCaul, accompanied by Jim, left the bridge.</p> + +<p>“Good night, my son,” he said, halting outside his cabin by the +charthouse. “To-morrow I’ll take you for a run at Chifu. I’ve to go +ashore to see the agents.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll be grand,” said Jim, pleased at the idea. “Good night, father.”</p> + +<p>The skipper disappeared into his cabin, and Jim went below and turned +in. For an hour he lay reading, but then his weariness overcame him, and +blowing out his candle he fell asleep with the regular throb of the +propeller sounding in his ears.</p> + +<p>The captain’s prophecy about fog turned out to be correct, for shortly +after he went on deck at midnight, the clear horizon ahead of the ship +became blotted out. By one o’clock the stars<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_35">{35}</a></span> were barely visible +through the pall overhead, while half an hour later it was thick fog.</p> + +<p>The skipper accordingly eased the engines until the vessel was +travelling at six knots, and began pulling the syren lanyard every two +minutes in making the prescribed fog signal.</p> + +<p>The hoarse braying of the powerful instrument woke all the sleepers, but +Jim felt too lazy to get up, and after getting used to the dismal sound, +rolled over and fell off to sleep again.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards, Dowell, clad in a greatcoat over his pyjamas, went up +on to the bridge.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said the captain. “What’s brought you up here?”</p> + +<p>“Syren kept me awake, sir,” the mate explained, “and I came up to see if +you wanted any soundings taken.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks. I think you’d better get the machine going,” said the skipper.</p> + +<p>Dowell went aft to the poop with two of the Chinese crew, and before +long the wire of the sounding machine was released, and the lead +descended to the bottom. He noticed that it took a much shorter time +than it should have, for the ship ought to have been in sixty fathoms, +and winding up the wire as fast as he could, he anxiously compared the +glass tube with the graduated scale. To his horror the depth was no more +than seventeen fathoms!</p> + +<p>He began to run forward to report the fact to the bridge, for it was +quite obvious that the ship was too near the shore, but hardly had he +taken two steps when the vessel gave a quivering shudder, and he could +feel her grinding and bumping over some object far below the waterline.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_36">{36}</a></span></p> + +<p>Presently the engines stopped with a jar, and all movement ceased. The +ship had struck a ledge of submerged rock, and was fast ashore.</p> + +<p>Dowell, with the second mate and Jim, the two latter having been +awakened by the shock, all arrived on the bridge at much the same +moment, while the native crew, terrified out of their senses, had turned +out of the forecastle, and were clustered on deck chattering loudly.</p> + +<p>“What’s happened, sir?” asked Dowell breathlessly, although he well knew +what the answer would be.</p> + +<p>“We’re ashore,” replied the captain. “You’d better get the boats turned +out, provisioned, and ready for lowering, Martin,” he went on, +addressing the second mate. “Go round with the chief engineer and see +what damage has been done, and then report to me.”</p> + +<p>The boats were turned out and provisioned, and presently Parton, the +chief engineer, came on to the bridge to make his report.</p> + +<p>“Well, captain,” he said, “I don’t think there’s much damage.”</p> + +<p>The skipper heaved a deep sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>“From what I can see she’s leakin’ a bit under number one and two holds, +but the pumps are keeping the flow down quite easily.”</p> + +<p>“Thank goodness for that!” ejaculated McCaul. “There’s no reason why we +shouldn’t float off at high water, then?”</p> + +<p>The fog was still very thick, but soon after daylight, when the effect +of the morning sun began to make itself felt, the outline of land became +visible, and when at length the mist had com<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_37">{37}</a></span>pletely dispersed it could +be seen that the steamer was ashore on a ledge of rock within a stone’s +throw of the coast.</p> + +<p>To the right, the shore was one uninterrupted line of cliff, but a mile +or so to the left of where the vessel lay, these abrupt slopes gave way +to a shallow, sandy bay in which were anchored several Chinese junks.</p> + +<p>At the head of the bay was a straggling native village, and on looking +at it through his glasses the captain could see the inhabitants +clustered on the beach gazing with obvious astonishment at the stranded +steamer.</p> + +<p>An hour passed without incident, the pumps managing to keep down the +flow of water, but towards eight o’clock the nearest junk weighed her +anchor, and with her brown sails bellying out in the breeze drew near +the <i>Hoi-Hau</i>.</p> + +<p>She approached rapidly, and when within a hundred yards of the steamer +hove to. Soon afterwards a native sampan put off from her side, and came +to the steamer, while a big, dark-skinned Chinaman, clad in loose blue +coat and trousers, clambered up the rope ladder, and appeared on deck.</p> + +<p>“Steamer makee go ashore, cap’n,” he remarked in pidgin English. “Velly +much damage, wanchee help, eh?”</p> + +<p>“No, thanks,” answered McCaul. “Ship no b’long damage. Can get off at +high water.”</p> + +<p>“Have got plentee coolie makee help,” repeated the visitor. “Plentee +stlong coolie.”</p> + +<p>“No wanchee,” repeated the skipper, who did not like the look of the +man. “No wanchee, savvy?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_38">{38}</a></span></p> + +<p>“All light,” said the Chinaman, with an evil grin. “S’pose you wanchee +coolie, I bling.”</p> + +<p>The visitor descended to his sampan, and returned to the junk, which +presently weighed her anchor and returned towards the neighbouring +village.</p> + +<p>“Those fellows are up to no good, sir,” observed Dowell. “That chap had +a revolver under his coat, I saw the bulge it made. And look,” he +continued, pointing towards the village, “something’s evidently in the +wind; you don’t see Chinamen crowding together like that for nothing. I +expect that fellow came aboard to have a look round, and now he’s gone +back to tell the others how many of us there are. His talk about coolies +was only a blind.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I hope not,” answered the captain. “He’ll have seen there are +only six Europeans aboard, counting Jim here. We can’t trust our native +crew to fight.”</p> + +<p>“What d’you propose to do, sir, if they do attack?” asked the mate.</p> + +<p>“Prevent ’em boarding as long as possible, and then if they do get +aboard, we’d better barricade ourselves under the poop. There are +scuttles in the saloon there, and we can fire through them on to the +deck.”</p> + +<p>An hour later three of the native craft anchored off the village hoisted +their sails, and after weighing their anchors came towards the steamer. +One of them, filled with brown-skinned men, circled round, lowered her +sails, and secured to the steamer’s side. Immediately she did so, the +man who had been aboard before, followed by several others, began to +climb the ladder.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_39">{39}</a></span></p> + +<p>This was the last thing Captain McCaul wanted, and going to the top of +the ladder he waited till the first man’s head appeared.</p> + +<p>“No wanchee,” he said. “<i>Wilo</i>”—go away—“no wanchee coolie!”</p> + +<p>The man, however, persisted in trying to come aboard, and not liking the +look of affairs the captain pushed him backwards, intending to force him +down the ladder.</p> + +<p>The Chinaman, however, slipped, and, tumbling backwards with a yell, +suddenly disappeared from view, sweeping several of his friends off the +ladder as he fell. They all descended with a crash on to the deck of the +junk, the other occupants of which gave a series of unearthly howls as +the human avalanche descended.</p> + +<p>At this moment the mate put his head over the side of the ship to enjoy +the fun, but a second later he drew it back in haste, for a shot rang +out, and a bullet whistled close by his head.</p> + +<p>Within a second or two an irregular volley broke out from the other +junks. The enemy were armed with modern weapons.</p> + +<p>The shots were ill-aimed, for though several bullets struck the +superstructure close to where the officers and Jim stood, the greater +number pinged harmlessly through the air overhead.</p> + +<p>At the first discharge, the Chinese crew of the steamer fled in terror, +and shut themselves up in the forecastle, leaving the six Europeans +alone to defend the ship.</p> + +<p>“They mean business!” shouted the captain, dashing to the chartroom and +seizing a rifle. “Cut the ladder adrift, someone!”</p> + +<p>The mate whipped out a knife and sawed at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_40">{40}</a></span> rope lashing, but the +blade was blunt and the rope tough, and before he was half-way through +one strand, a yellow face, with a long, evil-looking knife between its +teeth, appeared at the ladder top.</p> + +<p>But the stroke never came, for the rope suddenly parted with a crack, +and the man disappeared backwards.</p> + +<p>There was no time for further talking, for the enemy had now opened a +furious fire, while the Europeans, having armed themselves with rifles, +were lying on the deck emptying their magazines at their assailants. +They succeeded in dropping a good many, but the defenders were +outnumbered by more than twenty to one.</p> + +<p>The second mate suddenly sat up with a muttered word.</p> + +<p>“They’ve got me, the devils!” he remarked, clenching his teeth with +pain. “Lucky it’s only through the left arm, so I can still use a +rifle.”</p> + +<p>He bandaged the injured member with his handkerchief and calmly went on +shooting. But the enemy’s fire was becoming more accurate, and at last a +bullet went through the mate’s cap and sent it flying.</p> + +<p>“We must take cover!” exclaimed the captain, noticing what had happened. +“Down on the upper deck, everyone, and take shelter behind the +bulwarks!”</p> + +<p>They got up one by one and dashed down the ladder leading to the deck, +with the bullets flying round them like hail, but they all succeeded in +reaching their haven of refuge without being hit.</p> + +<p>Once behind the bulwarks they were comparatively safe, for no bullet +could penetrate the stout<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_41">{41}</a></span> steel, and they only had to expose their +heads to fire.</p> + +<p>The fight went on for a quarter of an hour without any advantage to +either side, when suddenly Jim, happening to glance round, saw a +blue-clad figure with a rifle in its hand slinking along underneath the +bridge.</p> + +<p>The boy wheeled in an instant, brought the weapon to his shoulder, and +fired. The shot went wide, but it served its purpose, for the man +vanished.</p> + +<p>“They’ve boarded us forward, father!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>As if to prove the truth of his statement, two more pirates suddenly +appeared in the direction he pointed out.</p> + +<p>“We shall have to barricade ourselves aft,” ejaculated the captain to +the others. “Come on, there’s no time to lose!”</p> + +<p>No sooner said than done. Within two minutes the defenders had entered +the saloon, and after barricading the door with such movable furniture +as they could find, they took up their positions with their rifle +muzzles pointing through the portholes opening out on to the deck.</p> + +<p>For some time nothing happened, and Jim’s eyes grew tired from the glare +of the strong sunlight outside. He waited, however, with rifle ready, +and at last the head and shoulders of a pirate appeared round the corner +of the superstructure.</p> + +<p>He watched intently, and was just about to fire, when there came a wild +yell, and fully twenty pirates came running along the superstructure +deck.</p> + +<p>“Bang—bang! Bang, bang, bang!” went the rifles, and several of the blue +figures fell headlong.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_42">{42}</a></span> But some of them reached the deck untouched, and +taking up a position behind the hatchway coaming, opened a heavy fire.</p> + +<p>Their bullets struck the steel bulkhead with a series of loud clangs, +while Jim at his porthole had a narrow escape, a bullet whistling past +his cheek and shattering a mirror the other end of the saloon. It rather +unnerved him, but still he went on loading and firing, loading and +firing, like a veteran.</p> + +<p>Several more of the enemy had been hit, but before long the second +engineer dropped his weapon with a clatter and clutched at his right +shoulder, through which a bullet had passed.</p> + +<p>His place at the porthole was taken by the second mate, who, though +wounded, could use his rifle, and while the captain bandaged the +engineer, the firing continued.</p> + +<p>The pirates now tried rushing towards the bulkhead, but the defenders’ +steady, accurate fire upset their calculations, and time after time they +were driven back with loss.</p> + +<p>For another hour nothing further happened, and though wild yelling could +be heard in the fore part of the ship, there was no more firing.</p> + +<p>“I expect they’re trying to loot the foremost hold, sir,” remarked +Dowell. “They’ll have a tough job, though,” he remarked, with a grin. +“All the cargo’s in big cases, and they won’t shift them in a hurry.”</p> + +<p>The captain was just about to reply, when Jim, who happened to be taking +a breath of fresh air at one of the portholes in the ship’s side, +suddenly gave a yell of delight.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked his father.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_43">{43}</a></span></p> + +<p>“There’s a ship out at sea,” exclaimed the boy excitedly.</p> + +<p>They all crowded round and gazed in the direction in which he pointed, +and there, sure enough, was a small white vessel steering a course to +round the point of land some distance astern of the steamer.</p> + +<p>So far the Chinese had been too intent upon their loot to notice her, +for there were no signs of movement on the part of the junks.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if she’ll spot us?” queried the skipper anxiously. “Can’t we +think of something to attract her attention?”</p> + +<p>They all looked at each other anxiously, for this was a difficulty they +had not considered.</p> + +<p>But Jim came to the rescue.</p> + +<p>“Father!” he said suddenly, “from her colour I believe she’s a +man-of-war. Why shouldn’t we signal to her?”</p> + +<p>The captain looked at his son.</p> + +<p>“But how d’you propose to do it?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Signal to ’em by the Morse code,” said Jim.</p> + +<p>No sooner said than done. Round the saloon were the cabins of several of +the officers, and going to all of them in turn Jim purloined all the +walking sticks he could lay his hands upon. He found eight in all, and +lashing them together, succeeded in forming a fairly stout pole about +ten feet in length. Then, tearing a large piece off a white tablecloth, +he secured it to one end, and going to one of the portholes thrust his +improvised flag through it, and began to wave it to and fro in a series +of longs and shorts.</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">————,—,—————,——————<br></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p class="nind">it went, spelling out the word HELP time after time.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_44">{44}</a></span></p> + +<p>But the Chinese had spotted the flag, and before Jim had been at work +for two minutes he heard wild yells, and an instant later the rifles of +his comrades were once more hard at work.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>H.M. Sloop <i>Lucifer</i> was proceeding towards the Shantung Promontory at a +steady twelve knots.</p> + +<p>On her bridge the lieutenant on watch leant listlessly against a +stanchion, slowly sweeping his telescope from side to side as he gazed +through it at the land on the port bow. He was doing it more from pure +force of habit than anything else, but he suddenly gave vent to a low +exclamation, and, bracing himself up, held his glass perfectly steady.</p> + +<p>“Great Cæsar’s ghost!” he remarked to himself, “there’s a steamer ashore +there with some junks alongside her, and someone’s waving something +white from one of her ports. Short short short short, short, short long +short short, short long long short,” he read out. “Great Scott!” he +exclaimed, “the fellow’s spelling out HELP!”</p> + +<p>He left his position and went amidships, and, leaning over the bridge, +gave an order to the man at the wheel below.</p> + +<p>“Starboard, three points!”</p> + +<p>The helmsman put the wheel over, and while the <i>Lucifer</i> swung round +until her bows were pointing directly towards the stranded vessel, a +messenger was sent to the commander to inform him of what had been +sighted, and, before a minute had passed, he was on the bridge gazing +intently at the stranded ship through his binoculars.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_45">{45}</a></span></p> + +<p>“It’s my opinion,” he remarked at length, and seeing the white flag +waving to and fro, “that the Chinamen from those junks are giving the +fellows on board that steamer a pretty rotten time. She probably ran +ashore in that fog early this morning, and they’re looting her.”</p> + +<p>He walked across to the engine-room telegraph, and jammed it on to “Full +Speed.”</p> + +<p>“Travers,” he resumed, turning to the officer of the watch, “get a gun’s +crew up and load one of the foremost 4-inch guns.”</p> + +<p>The lieutenant saluted, and a few minutes later the quickfirer had been +cleared away, and its lean muzzle was pointing in the direction of the +steamer.</p> + +<p>It was not until the sloop was within a couple of miles of the wreck +that the pirates noticed her, but the minute they did so they were flung +into a state of frantic confusion, for they could be seen tumbling over +each other in their haste as they clambered down the sides of the +steamer and aboard their junks.</p> + +<p>By the time the <i>Lucifer</i> was within half a mile the clumsy native craft +had hoisted their sails and were speeding back towards the village.</p> + +<p>The commander slowed his engines, and at the same moment hailed the +officer on the forecastle. The gun muzzle quivered until it was pointing +full at the leading junk, now well clear of the <i>Hoi-Hau</i>, and a second +later there was a sharp report, a sheet of blinding flame, and a +four-inch shell screeched its way through the air.</p> + +<p class="astt">. . . . . .</p> + +<p>Aboard the <i>Hoi-Hau</i> things had not been progressing very +satisfactorily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_46">{46}</a></span></p> + +<p>Again and again the Chinese had attacked and had been repulsed, but +finally the sheer weight of numbers had told, and when at last the +ammunition of the defenders had dwindled to an alarming degree, the +pirates had succeeded in reaching the bulkhead.</p> + +<p>Once in this position, the British could not fire without exposing +themselves, and the enemy began to beat down the door to get at those +inside.</p> + +<p>Captain McCaul and his officers had made up their minds for the worst, +when Jim suddenly stopped waving his flag.</p> + +<p>“Hurrah!” he yelled. “She’s coming this way!”</p> + +<p>The welcome announcement put new heart into the defenders and they +nerved themselves for a desperate resistance, for the entry of the +Chinese was now a matter of minutes.</p> + +<p>A short time later events took quite an unexpected turn. The enemy, +seeing the approaching man-of-war for the first time, suddenly abandoned +the attack and retreated to their junks, while the defenders, too +thankful to speak, made their way out of the saloon and went on deck.</p> + +<p>Closer and closer came the little sloop, until, when the junks were all +clear of the steamer and had hoisted their sails, she opened fire. The +first shell struck up the water a hundred yards short of the leading +junk, and flew off into the air with a savage whine.</p> + +<p>The pirates redoubled their efforts to escape, shrieking and yelling as +they plied the sweeps to assist the sails. But it was too late, and +their efforts were in vain, for the four-inch gun barked</p> + +<div class="figcenter" id="ill_003"> +<a href="images/i_047.jpg"> +<img src="images/i_047.jpg" width="354" height="550" alt=""></a> +<br> +<span class="caption">“Jim saw the masts of the native craft falling whilst +masses of debris were flung skywards by the force of the powerful +explosive.”<br><br> + +<i>To face <a href="#page_47">page 47</a></i><br> +</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_47">{47}</a></span></p> + +<p class="nind">again, and this time the projectile hit the leading junk full in the +stern.</p> + +<p>Jim had a fleeting glimpse of a sheet of flame; he saw the masts of the +native craft falling, whilst masses of debris were flung skywards by the +force of the powerful explosive.</p> + +<p>When the smoke cleared away the junk was barely recognisable, for she +lay low in the water like a derelict, and already the flames were +licking at her battered timbers.</p> + +<p>Another sharp report came from the sloop, and this time the shot pitched +into the water under the bows of a second enemy.</p> + +<p>The Chinese then realised that the game was up, for, lowering the sails, +most of them jumped overboard and began to swim for the shore, while +before very long the <i>Lucifer’s</i> boats, filled with armed bluejackets, +were taking possession of the abandoned craft.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards the commander of the sloop came aboard the <i>Hoi-Hau</i>.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, captain,” he said, advancing towards McCaul, and glancing +round the decks in astonishment. “You seem to have been having a pretty +bad time.”</p> + +<p>“If you hadn’t come,” said the skipper gratefully, wringing his +visitor’s hand, “they’d have broken down the door and murdered the lot +of us.”</p> + +<p>“By the way,” remarked the commander, “Who was that fellow of yours +making signals to us?”</p> + +<p>“Here he is,” replied McCaul, pushing Jim forward. “He’s my son.”</p> + +<p>“It’s lucky you made that signal, youngster,” said the naval officer. +“We’d spotted you all right, but if you hadn’t waved your flag we might<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_48">{48}</a></span> +have been too late. Where did you learn your Morse, by the way?”</p> + +<p>“I’m a Scout, sir,” Jim explained, blushing furiously.</p> + +<p>“Just as well you are, my boy,” said the officer with a twinkle in his +eye. “You ought to be proud of your son, captain,” he resumed, turning +to McCaul.</p> + +<p>“Proud!” laughed the skipper. “Proud! Of course I am!”</p> + +<p class="astt">. . . . . .</p> + +<p>When the tide rose, the <i>Hoi-Hau</i> floated off the rocks with but little +damage, and before long was once more on her voyage to Chifu.</p> + +<p>The bluejackets of the sloop succeeded in capturing the greater number +of the pirates, and it was subsequently found that they belonged to a +notorious band who had preyed on the defenceless trading junks for some +time past.</p> + +<p>Jim, as may well be imagined, has never forgotten his one and only brush +with pirates.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_49">{49}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="III">III</a><br><br> +THE GUNNER’S LUCK</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>(The following story is not mere fiction, for the events therein +described actually occurred during the South African War.)</p></div> + +<p class="nind">H.M. <span class="smcap">Torpedo-boat</span> Number 60 was pursuing her way northward along the +western coast of Cape Colony at a steady ten knots. As a matter of fact +the exact course was N.N.W., and this took the little craft along +parallel to the coast and some fifteen miles off it, while Robben +Island, thirty miles to the northward of Capetown, had been abeam at +noon, so the ship was well on her way up the coast in the direction of +Cape Castle.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful afternoon, with a clear blue sky, unflecked by the +least vestige of cloud, while the sun overhead converted the sea into +one vast expanse of shimmering light. There was a gentle breeze from the +south-east, but it was not sufficient to raise a sea, and the great +ocean was only disturbed by a slight swell rolling in from the westward, +over which the little torpedo-boat rode with an easy movement.</p> + +<p>It was 1901, when the South African War was at its height and the whole +of Cape Colony and Natal was one great military camp. The daily<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_50">{50}</a></span> arrival +of transports had come to be looked upon as a mere matter of routine, +for the war had been going on for eighteen months. The Navy, too, was +not idle, for many men belonging to the Cape of Good Hope Squadron had +been at the front with their guns, fighting side by side with their +soldier comrades, while the coasts of Cape Colony and Natal had also to +be patrolled.</p> + +<p>There were at that time comparatively few ships on the Cape station, and +as many hundreds of miles of coast had to be covered, all the +torpedo-boats in reserve at the naval base at Simonstown had been +requisitioned for this service, and though hardly suitable for the task, +they performed their work with a thoroughness which left nothing to be +desired. Through lack of lieutenants the greater number of them were +commanded by gunners, and No. 60, the little vessel with which we are +concerned, was in charge of Mr. Samuel Hyne, a warrant officer of this +rank.</p> + +<p>Small as she was, he was proud of her, and though her 65 tons +displacement, her 127½ feet of length, her 15 men, and her armament +of four 14-inch torpedo tubes, besides one three-pounder Hotchkiss and a +solitary 45-inch maxim, made her a very puny and insignificant little +craft, she was, in Hyne’s eyes, quite the smartest thing afloat flying +the White Ensign. He was proud of her, for his pennant flew at her +masthead, and though in 1886, when she first saw the light of day, she +could do her 20½ knots with her single screw, and now could steam no +more than, as he himself would call it, “eighteen and a kick,” he +revelled, like many others, in the delights of his first independent +command.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_51">{51}</a></span></p> + +<p>Close alongside the after torpedo tubes, and near the hatch leading to +the stuffy wardroom, the skipper sat on a camp stool having a friendly +yarn with the chief engine-room artificer, Watson, who, though only a +chief petty officer, was the engineer of the ship. It was hardly +possible to tell the chief E.R.A. from his commanding officer, for both +were clad in nothing but trousers and singlets open at the neck. It was +noticeable, though, that the engineer never omitted the “Sir” when +addressing his senior, even though the two men were close friends.</p> + +<p>“It’s all very well for you to say I’m lucky to have this job,” the +gunner was saying. “I dare say I am, but lucky or not, I’d far sooner +have had a chance of getting to the front!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” nodded the chief E.R.A., reaching for his tobacco pouch, “but if +you ’ad, sir, maybe you’d a got a bullet through you, same as Mister +McFiggis, o’ the <i>Doris</i>, did up at Graspan. ’E was full o’ beans when +’e left the ship, but ’e nearly pegged out in ’orspital. Lor’ bless me +’eart an’ soul, ’e didn’t want no more soldierin’. Lor’ lumme, no!”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t mind running the risk of that,” answered Hyne, “if only I +had the chance of doing something. They’ll get medals and bars, and +distinguished service orders, and goodness only knows what, and I’m +busted if we’ll get so much as a bloomin’ ‘thank you’ for patrolling +this blessed coast. Not so much as a thank you,” he reiterated +mournfully, glancing at the dull purple serrated edge of the mountains +away on the starboard beam. “I’m sick of it all!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_52">{52}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, it’s not your fault, sir,” went on the chief E.R.A. “You can’t do +more’n obey your orders, an’ if you don’t get your chance you don’t, and +that’s all about it.”</p> + +<p>The gunner laughed, and both men relapsed into a silence which was only +broken by the gentle ripple of the water as the torpedo-boat forced her +way through it.</p> + +<p>The afternoon wore on, and at four o’clock Hyne went forward to relieve +the coxswain on watch. The orders were turned over, and the petty +officer went aft to his little cupboard of a mess, and was soon busy +with his tea, which meal consisted of stale bread, fried eggs of +doubtful origin, and well-stewed navy tea with no milk, for in those +days condensed milk was not served out by a paternal Government.</p> + +<p>It was about one bell in the first dog-watch (4.30 p.m.) that the +gunner, who was gazing abstractedly at the distant land, felt a sudden +tremor from the after part of the ship. At first he paid no attention to +it, for the little ship always vibrated badly, but when there came an +awful bump, followed by a jarring grind, and then a fearful clatter from +the neighbourhood of the engine-room, he realised something serious had +happened, and commenced to run aft.</p> + +<p>He was just in time to see the chief E.R.A. disappear down the +engine-room hatch like a shot rabbit, while the coxswain, with an +anxious face, was climbing up the ladder from his mess.</p> + +<p>“What’s happened?” cried Hyne.</p> + +<p>“I don’t rightly know, sir,” answered Naylor, the coxswain. “Me an’ th’ +chief was sittin’ in th’ mess when we ’ears a bump an’ then a grindin<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_53">{53}</a></span>’, +an’ then th’ engines start ’eavin’ round fit ter bust!”</p> + +<p>Descending the greasy ladder, the gunner went below into the +engine-room. Seeing a group of perspiring men in the after part of the +little compartment, he went up to them.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Shaft’s gone clean in half, sir,” said Watson, looking up.</p> + +<p>“Lord help us!” gasped the skipper. “Is it possible to do anything to +it?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” replied Watson, wiping his perspiring face with a bit of +dirty oily waste until it was streaked with black. “It’s a proper +dockyard job I’m afraid, it’s gone clean across!”</p> + +<p>“Are we making any water?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t think so, sir,” said the other. “If we had a’ been it ’ud found +its way for’ard by this time. It’ll have strained the stern gland a bit, +but the broken part of the shaft’s still there, and I expect I can keep +the flow under with the ejectors.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you can,” remarked Hyne, “but let’s go aft and have a look.”</p> + +<p>They left the engine-room, and going aft along the upper deck visited +all the stern compartments in turn.</p> + +<p>“There’s no damage to speak of,” said Watson, when the survey was +completed. “Th’ gland’s weeping a bit more’n usual, an’ one or two rivet +heads are sheared off an’ one or two plates a bit buckled. We can keep +the water under all right, an’ I’ll get th’ ejectors workin’ at once. +But we can’t steam another inch, of course.”</p> + +<p>He vanished below, and while he set the pumps<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_54">{54}</a></span> to work Hyne thought over +the situation. He was placed in a most unenviable position, for No. 60, +having, like the majority of the older torpedo-boats, only one screw, +was absolutely helpless with her tail shaft fractured. Even if they had +a spare length of shafting it could not be placed in position. He grew +pale as he thought of what might happen. The mighty Agulhas current +would carry the disabled ship to the northward, and though he had food +and water sufficient for perhaps a week’s consumption if he put the men +on half rations, affairs still looked pretty desperate, unless some +passing steamer gave the torpedo-boat a tow into harbour. She was, +however, out of the track of steamers running to Capetown, and her size +did not make her a very conspicuous object.</p> + +<p>The one small dinghy the little vessel carried would not accommodate +more than eight of her men at the very outside, and if the ship had to +be abandoned the other men would have to be towed astern in life-buoys, +while their progress would naturally be slow, and their chance of +reaching the coast, twenty miles distant, doubtful in the extreme. Even +allowing that it was possible, the sea was infested with sharks, so Hyne +dismissed the idea as impossible almost as soon as he thought of it.</p> + +<p>Going aft he was met by the coxswain.</p> + +<p>“Get the ship’s company aft, Naylor,” he ordered.</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir.”</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards the little crew had been collected, and, stepping +forward, the petty officer reported, “Ship’s company present, sir,” in +his best battleship manner.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_55">{55}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Men,” began Hyne, getting on to the after torpedo tube, “I’ve not +brought you up here to spin a long yarn. You all know what’s happened, +and that we’re practically helpless twenty miles from land, and out of +the track of shipping. We’ve got three days’ grub on board, say four +with what we’ve got in the wardroom, so, in case of accidents, we’ll +pool the lot and put everyone on half whack!</p> + +<p>“It’s a poor look out, I don’t mind telling you,” he went on to say, +“but still we’ve a chance. The weather’s fine, and though we can’t +steam, we can sail....</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, noticing that the men were looking at each other in +surprise, “I daresay sailing a torpedo-boat sounds strange, but it’s got +to be done! Saldanha Bay’s the best place to make for, it’s about thirty +miles nor’-east of us, and as the wind’s freshening every minute and +going round to the southward, we’ll have it on the starboard quarter. We +must buckle to, and rig up a couple of extra masts—bearing out spars’ll +do—and we must cut up every bit o’ canvas in the ship, and make it into +sails. Four hours at the outside must see us under way, and though we +shan’t go very fast, I hope we’ll make Saldanha Bay some time to-morrow. +That’s all I’ve got to say, and now I want you to buckle to and rig up +the masts and make the sails.”</p> + +<p>The men cheered as he dismissed them, and before long they were hard at +work furling the awnings while the storerooms were burgled for every +inch of canvas they contained. Presently those of the men who could use +a sail-maker’s palm and needle were busy sewing the lengths together, +while others placed and stayed the spars to serve<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_56">{56}</a></span> as main and mizzen +masts, for the torpedo-boat only carried one stumpy mast forward.</p> + +<p>By eight o’clock, when the sun sank to rest beneath the western horizon +in a blaze of scarlet and gold, everything was ready except the sails.</p> + +<p>“Come on, lads! Bear a hand!” shouted Hyne cheerfully to encourage the +men sewing, and noting with satisfaction that the breeze from the +southward was momentarily freshening. “We must get sail on her as soon +as we can!” The bluejackets worked with a will, and half an hour later a +small jib and triangular trysail were set on the foremast. They were +anything but well cut or shapely, for they had been made out of the +awning, but still they served their purpose, for as soon as they were +hoisted the wind bellied them out, and the little vessel heeled over and +began to move through the water.</p> + +<p>“Steer east-nor’-east!” said Hyne to the coxswain, as the latter ran +forward to take the wheel, and, as the rudder went over, the skipper saw +with satisfaction that the ship answered her helm.</p> + +<p>By nine o’clock it was pitch dark, and the stars had begun to twinkle in +the dark blue of the sky overhead, and soon afterwards the other sails +were ready, and were set on the spars serving as main and mizzen masts. +The torpedo-boat slipped still faster through the water, until she was +making about four knots, while the men, highly satisfied with their +work, had their frugal supper of stale bread and bully beef.</p> + +<p>The hours dragged wearily by, but by midnight the breeze had developed +into a strong wind, which still blew from the same direction. The sea, +however, had got up, and the little ship wallowed</p> + +<div class="figcenter" id="ill_004"> +<a href="images/i_057.jpg"> +<img src="images/i_057.jpg" width="360" height="550" alt=""></a> +<br> +<span class="caption">“He saw to his inexpressible relief that the entrance to +Saldanha Bay was in sight.”<br><br> +<i>To face <a href="#page_57">page 57</a></i><br> +</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_57">{57}</a></span></p> + +<p class="nind">heavily as she crawled along at her leisurely gait, but as the stars +still shone it did not appear as if the weather was going to get any +worse. The gunner and coxswain spent the whole night on deck, and at +five o’clock the next morning the first signs of dawn appeared over a +serrated band of obscurity on the horizon which could only be land. +Hyne, exhausted as he was, felt quite cheerful when he saw it, and when +daylight came he saw, to his inexpressible relief, that the entrance to +Saldanha Bay was in sight a short distance to the northward.</p> + +<p>Two hours later the crippled torpedo-boat crawled into the harbour, and +passing several steamers and sailing craft at anchor, whose crews broke +into ironical cheers as she crept by, finally dropped her anchor off the +settlement.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” remarked the chief E.R.A. to Hyne, as the latter went aft +towards the wardroom hatch, “you’ve had your chance all right, if you’ll +excuse my saying so, sir, and I reckon the Admiral’ll have something +nice to say to you when we get back to Simonstown.”</p> + +<p>“Nice!” sniffed Hyne. “Nice indeed! I expect he’ll order me to be +court-martialled on the spot because the shaft broke. Endangering one of +His Majesty’s ships, and all the rest of it!”</p> + +<p>“I ’ope not!” declared Watson, dropping his h’s in his nervousness. +“Hindeed! I ’ope not!”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll see,” said the gunner, going down the ladder; “but +meanwhile I’m going to send a wire reporting what has happened.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_58">{58}</a></span></p> + +<p class="astt">. . . . . .</p> + +<p>A week later H.M. Torpedo-boat No. 60 arrived at Simonstown behind the +second-class cruiser which had been sent to Saldanha Bay to tow her +back. The news of her vicissitudes was already common property, and as +she passed by, the men-of-war on her way to the dockyard, a string of +coloured bunting crept to the masthead of the flagship and fluttered out +in the breeze. An instant later the sides and rigging of the war vessels +were black with men, and as No. 60 passed cheer after cheer rang out +across the water.</p> + +<p>“What the deuce do they want to make all that shindy about?” growled +Hyne, who, if the truth must be told, felt rather relieved at the +reception.</p> + +<p>“I expects you’ll find out orl rite when yer reports yer arrival to the +Admiral, sir,” murmured the coxswain.</p> + +<p>An hour later the gunner was reporting his arrival to the Admiral on +board the flagship. The Commander-in-Chief got up from the table at +which he was writing.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad to see you back, Mr. Hyne,” he said graciously, shaking hands. +“I’m glad you came out of it all right. Let me hear all about it; your +wire didn’t give me much news beyond the fact that you’d broken down and +had ... er, sailed your torpedo-boat into Saldanha Bay.”</p> + +<p>The story was soon told, and when the narrative was complete the Admiral +rose from his chair.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hyne,” he said, “I congratulate you. I knew when I appointed you to +No. 60 you’d do well, but I never expected this. I shall forward a +report of your conduct to the Admiralty.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_59">{59}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir!” gasped the astonished Hyne, his face turning the +colour of a beet.</p> + +<p>“And,” continued the Commander-in-Chief, “I shall be very pleased if you +will come and dine at Admiralty House to-night. My wife will be +interested in your story, and I’m afraid you’ll have to tell it all over +again.”</p> + +<p class="astt">. . . . . .</p> + +<p>Six weeks later Hyne was sitting on the deck of his little command, +which was on the torpedo-boat slip in the dockyard, after having been +fitted with a new screw shaft. It was a hot day, and he was half dozing +in his chair with his pipe between his teeth, when he was roused by the +sound of shouting from forward. Presently the signalman came running aft +with a signal pad in his hand.</p> + +<p>“What’s all the noise about forward?—tell ’em to stop it at once,” said +Hyne.</p> + +<p>“Signal, sir,” said the man, “just come from the flagship. Reads +‘Admiralty informs me that Mr. Samuel Hyne, gunner, has been promoted to +the rank of lieutenant. I am sure that all officers and men under my +command will congratulate this officer on his well-merited +promotion.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> + +<p>“Good Lord!” gasped the newly-made lieutenant, hardly able to believe +his ears. “Are you quite certain it is all right? Perhaps someone’s +pulling my leg.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, they ain’t,” declared the signalman, breaking into a grin, +“an’ th’ signal goes on to say: ‘Chief Engine-room Artificer Jeremiah +Watson is advanced to the rank of Artificer Engineer!<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_60">{60}</a></span>’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> + +<p>“What’s that?” said a voice, as the chief E.R.A.’s head appeared on +deck. “Let’s have a look. Are you sure it ain’t a ’oax?”</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Oax, ’oax!” exclaimed the man; “beggin’ yer pardon, sir, the Admiral +ain’t goin’ ter pull yer leg!”</p> + +<p>He handed the signal pad across as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right,” said Hyne breathlessly. “I congratulate you, Mr. +Watson.”</p> + +<p>“Same here, Lieutenant Hyne,” said the other. “Didn’t I say, sir, as how +they wouldn’t forget you? Aren’t you a jolly sight better off than +Mister McFiggis, who got a bullet through ’im at Graspan?... Lor’ save +us, though!” he added, “I didn’t know as I ’ad done anythink!”</p> + +<p>“No, but I did, though,” said the new lieutenant, as he went below to +figure out how much it would cost him to send a lengthy cable home to +his wife in England.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_61">{61}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="IV">IV</a><br><br> +HORATIO NELSON CHIVERS</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="nind">“<span class="smcap">Well</span>, Mister Mate,” remarked Captain Sims, rubbing his hands with +satisfaction, “the noon sights give her an average of ten and a half +knots since noon yesterday. Pretty good goin’!”</p> + +<p>“Good!” replied the mate. “I should think it was, sir! This old hooker +isn’t exactly in her childhood.”</p> + +<p>The master laughed. “Well,” he said, “I’ll go below and get my dinner, +and after that I shall be in my room. I’ve a lot of work to get +through.”</p> + +<p>The mate nodded and smiled, for he knew well that the captain’s “work” +was done lying down on his bunk with both eyes shut, and with an +accompaniment of something which sounded suspiciously like snoring.</p> + +<p>“Keep her goin’ sou’-sou’-east,” concluded the “old man,” moving down +the poop ladder, “and let me know if you sight anything.”</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir!” said Meryon, as the skipper disappeared.</p> + +<p>The steamer <i>Evelyn MacDonald</i> was pursuing her leisurely way southward +through the North Atlantic, on a voyage from London to Sydney,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_62">{62}</a></span> via the +Cape of Good Hope. She carried a valuable general cargo, and up to the +present the voyage had been eminently successful, for no contrary gales +or heavy seas had retarded her progress. The vessel, a steam tramp of +elderly build and sluggish demeanour, was surpassing herself, for though +nine and a half or ten knots was her usual speed, the patent log dial on +her taffrail was now registering no less than 10·5.</p> + +<p>The weather was certainly beautiful, and, though there was hardly a +cloud overhead in the sky to dim the brilliancy of the sun, the welcome +breeze, ruffling the surface of the sea until it looked like a vast +spread of sapphire-coloured velvet, mitigated the fierce rays from +above. Life on board, therefore, even though the ship was only a few +degrees north of the equator, was bearable, and even pleasant.</p> + +<p>It had gone one bell in the afternoon watch, and the crew had finished +their midday meal and were lolling about on the forecastle in various +lethargic attitudes. Some were smoking and talking, but others had +dropped off to sleep with their pipes between their teeth.</p> + +<p>“What I likes about this ’ere ship,” one of them remarked to a friend, +“is that we ’ave no bloomin’ dagoes aboard. We’re hall Henglish, +leastways British, an’ I reckon there’s precious few other ’ookers +flyin’ th’ Red Duster as can say that!”</p> + +<p>“That’s so, mate,” replied another seaman, whose red hair had earned for +him the inevitable nickname of “Ginger.” “I reckon we’ve struck ile this +trip orl rite.”</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Allo, there’s ’Oratio!” observed the first<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_63">{63}</a></span> speaker, as the cook’s boy +came out of the galley amidships and flung a bucket of dirty water over +the ship’s side.</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Allo, ’Oratio, me son,” cried Ginger, “<span class="lftspc">’</span>ow are ye gettin’ on dahn +there? ’Ow’s th’ ole water spoiler inside?” The “water spoiler,” +needless to remark, was the cook himself, Horatio’s immediate superior.</p> + +<p>The boy—Horatio Nelson Chivers, to give him his full name—had been +signed on as assistant and general bottle-washer to the cook at the last +moment before the ship left England. The mate, seeing him loafing round +the quay before the <i>Evelyn MacDonald</i> sailed, had taken him on out of +pure compassion, rather than with the idea that he would be of any use; +and, if the truth must be told, Horatio Nelson was about as scraggy and +as weedy a looking individual as it is possible to imagine.</p> + +<p>He was an undersized youth of about fifteen—he didn’t know his real +age—whose origin was wrapped in the realms of mystery, and though he +knew his surname was Chivers and his Christian names, through some freak +on the part of his mother and father, were Horatio Nelson, he was quite +unacquainted with his parents, and was unaware who they had been, where +they had lived, or where he himself had been born. For years he had +contrived to make ends meet by selling newspapers in London, a +precarious existence which often as not left him without the wherewithal +to satisfy his gnawing hunger; but all his spare time was spent down at +the docks in the East End, for he loved ships and everything to do with +them. He had fully determined to become a sailor,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_64">{64}</a></span> perhaps because he +was named after the greatest Admiral the world has ever known, but he +had never been more surprised than when the mate of the <i>Evelyn +MacDonald</i>, seeing a veritable scarecrow of a boy standing on the jetty +close to the ship, asked him if he wanted to sign on.</p> + +<p>He jumped at the opportunity with thankfulness in his heart, for he was +desperately sick of the great city, and, above all, of endeavouring to +sell newspapers to people who did not want them. He longed to be at sea, +to see something of the world, and though he would have preferred to +enter the Royal Navy, a bird in the hand was worth several in the bush, +and he revelled in the idea of having regular meals. It is true that Mr. +Meryon had given the boy the chance because he looked so utterly +miserable, forlorn and wretched; but though the officer’s feelings had +outweighed his judgment, it must be admitted he had never had cause to +regret it, for ’Oratio, as he was familiarly called, was the life and +soul of the ship, and was as cute and knowing as the day is long.</p> + +<p>The youth shook the last few drops out of his bucket and then looked +towards the forecastle.</p> + +<p>“Cheero, Ginger!” he remarked, familiarly. “<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ow’s yer Rile ’Ighness +gettin’ on?”</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Oo are you callin’ Ginger?” demanded the seaman, not liking the +allusion to the colour of his hair. “Ain’t I told yer my name’s Smith? +Mister bloomin’ Smith, too, from the likes o’ you?”</p> + +<p>“There’s ony one Ginger in this ’ere ship!” retorted Horatio innocently. +“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Is Majesty King Ginger—King o’ all th’ Nuts!”</p> + +<p>“Ho, hindeed!” snorted the King of the Nuts. “Look ’ere, Mister ’Oratio +bloomin’ Nelson Chivers,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_65">{65}</a></span> or whatever yer darned tally is, I don’t stand +no sauce from the likes o’ you! I’ve told yer ’afore I’ll ’ave none o’ +yer imperence!”</p> + +<p>“Won’t yer?” said the boy in mock surprise, making a deep obeisance.</p> + +<p>“No, I won’t, yer young shaver, so just you keep a civil tongue in yer +’ead!”</p> + +<p>“Orl rite, cully, keep yer ’air on!” drawled Horatio, disappearing into +the galley.</p> + +<p>“Drat th’ boy,” muttered Smith good-naturedly. “That ’Oratio o’ ourn is +a cure, an’ no bloomin’ herror. King o’ th’ Nuts, hindeed!”</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>E’s a cheeky young divil!” agreed one of the other men, pushing down +the tobacco in his pipe with a horny forefinger. “<span class="lftspc">’</span>E’s abart th’ +bloomin’ limit, takin’ ’im orl round. ’E’s fillin’ art somethin’ +wonderful, though,” he added with pride, for they all looked upon +Horatio as belonging to them. “D’ye remember th’ wizened little +scarecrow ’e was when ’e signed on?”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” snorted Ginger. “Fillin’ art! ’E can’t bloomin’ well ’elp +’isself! Just look at th’ amount of scran ’e stows away in that little +stummick o’ ’is! ’E’s—— Wot in ’evin’s that?” he suddenly broke off, +as something round and hard hit him in the ribs. “S’welp me!” he added +an instant later, picking up a potato. “It’s a spud!”</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Oratio’s bombardin’ yer from th’ galley,” said his companion with a +grin.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give ’im ’Oratio when I catch ’im,” muttered Smith, leaping to his +feet. “<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ere, you young swabtail!” he bellowed, catching sight of the boy +with another missile ready to throw. “<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ere, give over chuckin’ them +spuds!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_66">{66}</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy’s reply came promptly, for another potato hurled through the air +and hit his enemy fair and square on the shoulder. Ginger instantly +dashed to the forecastle ladder with the intention of pursuing and +chastising his assailant, but the latter, seeing him coming, had already +vanished into the galley like a streak of greased lightning.</p> + +<p>Further hostilities were interrupted by the bosun coming forward along +the upper deck.</p> + +<p>“Come on, lads, time’s up!” he shouted.</p> + +<p>Ginger Smith was forced to postpone active operations upon Horatio to a +more suitable opportunity, and while the boy sniggered with glee in his +galley, the recumbent figures on the forecastle rose, stretched +themselves, and were soon told off for their work for the afternoon.</p> + +<p>“Gah!” shouted the precocious youth, putting his head out of the galley +with a grimace as Smith passed with a paint-pot and brushes. “Look at +th’ King o’ th’ Nuts goin’ to paint ’is pallus! Thought ye’d catch me, +did yer?” He put his thumb to his nose and extended his fingers.</p> + +<p>“You wait, my son!” muttered Smith wrathfully. “I’ll knock seven bells +out o’ yer bloomin’ little carcase when I do get ’old o’ yer!”</p> + +<p>He marched on aft, with Horatio making faces at him behind his back.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The afternoon wore on, and at about 3 p.m. a black smudge of smoke +appeared over the horizon astern. It got larger and larger, spreading up +in the clear sky like a mushroom-shaped cloud, until eventually the hull +of a ship could be seen looming<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_67">{67}</a></span> up in the distance. As yet she was too +far off for details to be noticed, but the dense volumes of smoke +issuing from her funnels showed that she was travelling fast. She +overhauled the <i>Evelyn MacDonald</i> rapidly, and by four o’clock was only +four or five miles astern.</p> + +<p>The captain had already been called and had come on the poop, and was +gazing intently at her through a pair of binoculars.</p> + +<p>“She’s a man-of-war, by the look of her,” he remarked to the mate. +“Three funnels, so far as I can see, and painted dark grey.”</p> + +<p>“She’ll be British,” answered Meryon. “Our men-of-war are that colour. I +can’t see any ensign, though. By Jove!” he added in admiration; “she’s +going a pretty good lick. Look at her bow wave!”</p> + +<p>“She’s altering her course to close us,” observed the skipper, as the +approaching vessel yawed lightly to starboard. “Stand by with your +signal books and flags. I expect she wants to communicate.”</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards the strange cruiser, for such, from her three funnels, +she evidently was, was close astern.</p> + +<p>“She’s not British!” exclaimed the mate confidently. “We’ve no craft in +our navy like that!”</p> + +<p>“What in earth is she, then?” demanded the skipper rather testily. “What +does a bloomin’ foreigner want to come nosin’ round us for? Hoist the +ens’n; perhaps she’ll hoist hers!”</p> + +<p>The Red Ensign crept up to the peak, where it streamed out a vivid +scarlet patch against the deep blue of the sky. The man-of-war may have +noticed it, but if she did she made no sign of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_68">{68}</a></span> having done so, for she +still came on at the same speed.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” cried the mate an instant later. “She’s a German!” He had +just seen the ensign at the stranger’s gaff, where hitherto it had been +hidden in her belching smoke.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” returned the skipper, busy with a telescope. “She’s got a signal +flying, too. L Q,” he added, picking out the colours of the flags. “Look +it out in the book!”</p> + +<p>“Heave to!” exclaimed Meryon in absolute astonishment, running his +finger down the page and finding the place.</p> + +<p>“Heave to!” snorted the skipper incredulously. “Can’t be! Let’s have a +look!”</p> + +<p>“It’s quite right, sir,” replied the mate, showing him the meaning.</p> + +<p>“Heave to!” ejaculated the captain, with rising wrath. “What right has a +bloomin’ foreigner to order us to heave to?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know, sir. Perhaps she’s made a mistake,” replied Meryon; but his +voice sounded rather apprehensive.</p> + +<p>“Mistake or not,” snapped the skipper, “I’m jiggered if I’ll heave to! +I’ve never heard such a cursed bit o’ impertinence in my life!” He gazed +over the taffrail and shook his fist wrathfully at the oncoming +stranger, now barely four hundred yards behind.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he done so, when a spit of flame broke out from the +forecastle of the man-of-war. There was a loud report, and then, with a +savage whine, a projectile hurtled through the air past the steamer and +buried itself in the sea a hundred yards away to port.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_69">{69}</a></span></p> + +<p>The skipper glared at the spout of foam with absolute amazement and +bewilderment written on his face.</p> + +<p>“What the devil does she mean?” he roared, his face whitening with rage. +“Firing on us! We’re not at war! I’ve never heard of such a thing!” He +had great difficulty in controlling his wrath.</p> + +<p>The mate, too, was struck dumb with astonishment, and stared at the +cruiser with his mouth wide open. There really was something rather +amazing in the idea of a German man-of-war stopping a British merchant +ship on the high seas, but there was no mistaking the meaning of her +peremptory demand.</p> + +<p>“That gun, sir,” he remarked at length, “was meant to make us heave to!”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it was, the beastly pirates!” muttered the captain angrily. +“Well,” he continued, “it’s no use being sunk!” He wrenched the +engine-room telegraph over to “Stop” as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Hearing the report of the gun, the officers and men of the steamer were +already on deck, gazing at the foreign warship with surprise and +astonishment on their faces. The cruiser had now slowed down, and a +minute later, when the <i>Evelyn MacDonald</i> had slowed down, the grey +man-of-war slid up abreast of her and barely two hundred yards off. The +twin propellers churned the water into foam as they went astern at full +speed, and then there came the piping of a boatswain’s whistle as a boat +was lowered.</p> + +<p>The crew of the <i>Evelyn MacDonald</i> were clustered on deck hurling +strange curses at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_70">{70}</a></span> foreigner, while one or two of the more +belligerent ones, Horatio, who had armed himself with the cook’s meat +chopper, among them, were saying what they proposed to do to the +boarding party when they should come on board.</p> + +<p>“I’ll catch ’im a slosh on th’ jaw ’e won’t forgit in a ’urry!” piped +the boy, feeling the edge of his weapon.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt they all meant what they said, and realising that, if +they offered resistance, the man-of-war would probably retaliate, Sims +sent the mate forward to prevent them doing any mischief.</p> + +<p>The cutter presently drew alongside. To the captain’s utter disgust, he +was forced to lower a rope ladder, and then an officer, armed with sword +and revolver, clambered on deck. He was followed by half a dozen seamen +carrying loaded rifles, two of whom promptly made their way to the poop, +where they took charge of the wheel, while the other four rounded up the +crew of the steamer and made them hold their hands above their heads by +threatening them with their weapons.</p> + +<p>“What is the meaning of this outrage?” thundered the skipper, advancing +threateningly on the single foreigner who confronted him.</p> + +<p>The officer’s hand slid to his revolver holster, which he unbuttoned +ostentatiously.</p> + +<p>“This is rank piracy!” bellowed Sims again.</p> + +<p>“You do not know that Germany and England are at war?” asked the visitor +in excellent English, glancing at the Red Ensign overhead and fingering +his weapon.</p> + +<p>“What?” snorted Sims, with a sniff of rage.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_71">{71}</a></span></p> + +<p>The foreigner smiled slightly and nodded.</p> + +<p>“War? But what’s war been declared about?” asked the captain amazed.</p> + +<p>“That is not my affair,” answered the foreigner. “I do my duty without +asking why!”</p> + +<p>“Why, man,” the Englishman remarked, his amusement almost getting the +better of his annoyance, “you’ll have the whole of our navy buzzin’ +round your ears in no time!”</p> + +<p>“We will fight!” retorted the foreigner with impatience.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” muttered the skipper. “The deuce you will! Meanwhile, may I ask +what you mean to do with this ship?”</p> + +<p>“Our navy has orders to sink and destroy the British fleet, and to +capture or burn all merchant ships!”</p> + +<p>Sims gasped.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” continued the lieutenant grandiloquently. “A prize crew shall be +put on board, and she shall be taken to Duala!”</p> + +<p>“But I’m not carrying contraband of war!” protested the captain, longing +to go for the foreigner with his fists.</p> + +<p>“All the English are our enemies!” declared the other. “Come,” he +continued rudely, “I am not used to bandy words with a merchant captain. +I wish to see your papers, and I must warn you that, if there is any +attempt at resistance, my ship will fire on you!”</p> + +<p>Sims’s longing to strike out almost got the better of him, but he saw +that it was no use arguing any further, so swallowed the insult without +replying.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” he said gruffly, leading the way to his cabin.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_72">{72}</a></span></p> + +<p>The foreign officer beckoned to one of his men before he disappeared +under the poop, and a minute or two later the Red Ensign was hauled down +and replaced by the white black-crossed ensign of the German navy.</p> + +<p>Seeing it, the anger of the British crew nearly overcame them, and for +some moments their insensate rage tempted them to attack their captors. +They cursed and swore fluently, but eventually their discretion got the +upper hand, for they saw how useless it was to resist.</p> + +<p>An hour later the ship had been taken possession of by a prize crew of +fifteen men and a warrant officer, under the command of a lieutenant. +Having transferred them, the cruiser proceeded on her way, and, +threatened by the revolvers and rifles of their gaolers, the unfortunate +Englishmen were compelled to go to their posts and work their vessel, +steering towards the south-east for her new destination.</p> + +<p>This having been done, the captain and officers were locked in their +respective cabins, the crew were driven down into the forecastle, while +armed sentries pacing the deck effectually prevented any +intercommunication.</p> + +<p>The <i>Evelyn MacDonald</i> was a prize.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>The next morning the ship was still standing to the south-eastward on +her course for Duala.</p> + +<p>The lieutenant in command was a better-tempered individual than the +officer who had first come on board, and intimated to Captain Sims<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_73">{73}</a></span> that +he and his officers would be permitted to use the saloon for their +meals, while they would also be allowed one hour’s exercise on deck in +the morning and afternoon. He informed him, however, that any abuse of +this privilege would be visited by more rigorous treatment, and that if +any attempt were made to capture the vessel, the prisoners would +instantly be fired upon. The only members of the crew who were not +confined were Horatio and the steward, for they, between them, were +responsible for the cooking and serving of all the meals throughout the +ship, for captors and prisoners alike. Even they, however, were closely +watched, for there was always an armed sentry somewhere near the galley +while they were at work.</p> + +<p>Horatio went about his labours in a despondent manner, which formed a +complete contrast to his cheery disposition of a week before. He had +plenty to do, but chafed at the idea of being ordered about by +foreigners, and every time he looked at the foreign flag flying at the +peak his blood boiled with mingled rage and humiliation. Puny and +insignificant as he was, he was British to the core. British blood +flowed in his veins, and he seriously thought of attacking the sentries +single-handed with his chopper. He even asked the steward’s advice as to +how it could best be done, but the older man, realising the utter +futility of such an attempt, made him, after great difficulty, promise +that he would not try it.</p> + +<p>Foiled in his ideas of active measures, the boy then set to work to +think of some other way of recapturing the ship. Scheme after scheme was +evolved in his busy brain to be cast aside as use<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_74">{74}</a></span>less, but suddenly, +two days later, an idea, a great and glorious idea, flashed into his +mind. He determined to try it.</p> + +<p>Captain Sims in his cabin was also thinking out plan after plan to +regain possession of the ship, but he gave them all up in turn as +hopeless, for arms or ammunition he had none, and he knew well enough +that the minute an attack was made the English would be shot down with +ruthless indifference.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the third day after the capture, he realised that the +anxiety and the unusual sedentary life were beginning to make him +positively ill. Instead of turning out for breakfast, therefore, he +remained in his bunk, and soon afterwards someone came to his cabin +door, unlocked it, and announced that breakfast was ready.</p> + +<p>“Is that you, Chivers?” he called.</p> + +<p>“Yus, sir,” said the boy, opening the door and putting his head in.</p> + +<p>“Look here. I’m feeling a bit seedy this mornin’. You might bring my +meals in here on a tray, will you?”</p> + +<p>“Yus, sir,” said the urchin.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later he returned with a well-laden tray.</p> + +<p>“Capten, sir,” he whispered, when he had laid out his master’s +breakfast.</p> + +<p>“Hallo, sonny! What is it?” asked Sims.</p> + +<p>The boy bent his head down until his lips were close to the captain’s +ear.</p> + +<p>“Please, sir,” he began, “<span class="lftspc">’</span>ave we any—— Yus, sir, quite a fine day!” +he suddenly remarked in his ordinary voice, for his sharp ear had heard +footsteps outside.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_75">{75}</a></span></p> + +<p>For an instant the skipper was surprised, for he could not guess the +meaning of the youth’s manœuvre. Then it suddenly flashed across his +mind, and he realised the boy had something important to tell him. They +went on talking naturally, until the footsteps died away.</p> + +<p>“Now, Chivers,” said Sims softly, “what is it?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir,” whispered the boy, “<span class="lftspc">’</span>ave we any drugs aboard?”</p> + +<p>“Drugs? Whatever for?”</p> + +<p>“Ter lay art them blighted foreigners, sir!” exclaimed the blood-thirsty +Horatio. “Me an’ th’ stooard cooks orl their grub, an’ I thought as ’ow +we cud drug it, sir!” His eyes twinkled with excitement as he unfolded +his idea.</p> + +<p>“What?” whispered the captain, seeing a ray of hope. “And then recapture +the ship while they’re asleep? Is that what you mean?”</p> + +<p>The urchin nodded, and anxiously awaited the captain’s verdict.</p> + +<p>Horatio, in the literature of the “penny dreadful” type he was so fond +of reading, had often come across cases where the villains achieved +their nefarious ends by drugging their victims, and he did not see why +the same scheme should not be carried out on this occasion.</p> + +<p>Sims thought hard for a minute or two before replying. Then a pleased +smile flitted across his face, and he patted the boy on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Boy,” he said at last, “you’re a cunning little devil!”</p> + +<p>Horatio blushed with pleasure.</p> + +<p>Sims went on in a low voice: “I don’t see why your scheme shouldn’t +work. D’you see that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_76">{76}</a></span> medicine chest there?” He pointed to a little teak +cabinet on the bulkhead of the cabin.</p> + +<p>Horatio said he did.</p> + +<p>“The key’s on the hook alongside it,” said the skipper. “Open it!”</p> + +<p>The boy fitted the key into the lock with a hand trembling with +excitement.</p> + +<p>“It’s open, sir,” he said expectantly.</p> + +<p>“Right at the back you’ll see a—— ”</p> + +<p>Sims hesitated a moment, for footsteps sounded outside. “You’ll see a +bottle of quinine,” he concluded in his ordinary voice, for the +footsteps halted before his door.</p> + +<p>It was just as well he altered the last part of his sentence, for just +at that moment the door opened and the foreign lieutenant entered.</p> + +<p>Horatio’s face went white, and his knees knocked together with fright, +but the officer saw nothing unusual in what was going on.</p> + +<p>“Goot morning!” he said affably. “I am ver’ sorry to hear you are ill, +captain. Vat is ze matter?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve a touch of fever again,” replied the skipper, avoiding the other’s +eye. “I’m just seeing if there’s any quinine in the medicine chest!” He +lied bravely, but felt horribly nervous all the same.</p> + +<p>“Vell,” replied the officer, “I ’ope you vill soon be vell. Vere is ze +quinine?”</p> + +<p>The captain’s heart nearly stopped with anxiety, for the foreigner went +to the medicine chest and began examining the labels on the different +bottles and phials.</p> + +<p>Supposing he suspected? The thought was too awful.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" id="ill_005"> +<a href="images/i_077.jpg"> +<img src="images/i_077.jpg" width="354" height="550" alt=""></a> +<br> +<span class="caption">“It’s laudanum. Here, take it and hide it somewhere.”<br><br> +<i>To face <a href="#page_77">page 77</a></i><br> +</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_77">{77}</a></span></p> + +<p>But Horatio, although he felt as if his knees would give way, retained +his presence of mind, and snatching up the nearest bottle, held it up +and pretended to read the label. It was not quinine, but that did not +matter, and taking it across to the captain he thrust it into his hand.</p> + +<p>“Here it is, sir,” he remarked.</p> + +<p>To his relief, the lieutenant gave up his search.</p> + +<p>“Ah, does Inglesh words!” he exclaimed. “I can speak ze Inglesh ver’ +vell, but to read him is more deefecult!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” agreed the skipper with a nervous grin. “They are a bit hard to +understand.”</p> + +<p>“Vell,” resumed the other pleasantly, “I ’ope you vill soon be vell. Ef +zere is anyzing you vant, please to let me know. I say good morning +now!” He made a courtly bow and left the cabin.</p> + +<p>“Oh, lor’!” gasped the boy with a sigh of relief, as the footsteps died +away. “I thought he’d spot wot we was up to!”</p> + +<p>“Now,” whispered Sims. “Right at the back at the left of the top row, +you’ll see a small blue bottle with an orange-coloured label.”</p> + +<p>Horatio dived his hands into the cabinet and withdrew it with the bottle +in his grasp.</p> + +<p>“Is this it, sir?” he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>“I think so,” said Sims. “Bring it here.”</p> + +<p>The boy brought it across, and examining the label the captain saw it +was the one he wanted.</p> + +<p>“D’you know what this is?” he asked, tapping it.</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“It’s laudanum. There’s enough in this to send the whole lot of ’em to +sleep. Lucky it’s a fairly<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_78">{78}</a></span> weak solution, so it won’t actually kill +’em. Here, take it,” he continued, “hide it somewhere!”</p> + +<p>Horatio thrust the bottle into the front of his tattered shirt.</p> + +<p>“What must I do with it, sir?” he asked mysteriously, for he felt as if +he was assisting to blow up the Houses of Parliament, or something +equally desperate.</p> + +<p>“Shove it in their food, somehow. D’you think you can do it?”</p> + +<p>“They orl ’as corfee arter their supper!” whispered the boy, with his +eyes opening very wide. “<span class="lftspc">’</span>Ow’ll that do, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Very well, I should think,” answered Sims. “What time do they have it?”</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Bout eight o’clock, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, empty the bottle in their coffee when you make it. You take the +men’s dinners to the forecastle, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>Horatio nodded.</p> + +<p>“Well, tell ’em, then,” hissed the skipper, “to be ready to make a dash +for the deck at half-past eight this evening; d’you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And tell the officers too, if you get a chance. Now run along. They may +smell a rat if you’re here too long. You quite understand what to do, +don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Orl rite, sir. I understan’. I’ve got it orl fixed up in me ’ead!” And +so saying the boy departed.</p> + +<p>Sims lay back on his bunk with a sigh of relief. The plan seemed so very +simple; but yet, somehow, too simple to be successful.</p> + +<p>Would it succeed? He wondered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_79">{79}</a></span></p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>The weary day drew on, and to the captain the hours seemed interminable. +He tried to read, but the words conveyed nothing to his brain, for his +feverish anxiety would not allow him to concentrate his mind upon his +book.</p> + +<p>His meals were brought to him by Horatio, who informed him that the men +had been told of what was to take place, but the day passed slowly, and +he was not sorry when the sound of voices and the clattering of knives +and forks outside in the saloon told him that the foreigners were at +their supper.</p> + +<p>His watch was hanging on the bulkhead, and at three minutes past eight +precisely he heard chairs being pushed back and footsteps leaving the +saloon. Then came dead silence, only disturbed by the ripple of water as +the ship drove along and the footsteps of someone walking up and down on +the poop.</p> + +<p>He waited in breathless anxiety. Ten minutes past eight, twenty past. +Would the time never pass? The minute hand of his watch seemed to be +moving terribly slowly, somehow.</p> + +<p>He was just beginning to feel nervous, when the footsteps above ceased. +He listened intently. Twenty-five minutes past!</p> + +<p>He crept out of his bunk and tiptoed noiselessly to the door.</p> + +<p>Half-past eight, but nothing happened.</p> + +<p>He trembled violently in his overwhelming excitement. Suppose the men +had decided that the risk was too great. Suppose—a hundred and one +possibilities flashed through his mind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_80">{80}</a></span></p> + +<p>The hand of the watch crept on to two minutes past the half-hour, and +just as he had given up hope, he heard the sudden rush of feet on the +ladder leading to the poop.</p> + +<p>Nerving himself for an effort, he took a run and hurled himself at the +door, hearing as he did so a confused shouting on the poop, followed by +two revolver shots. He was no light weight, and the stout panels ripped +and crashed as he flung himself at them, and, falling through the +debris, he found himself on all fours in the saloon. Picking himself up +he dashed out on deck and up the ladder to the poop, and what he saw +brought a wave of thankfulness to his heart. The British were in +possession. The prize-master lay senseless by the wheel, while the +warrant officer, who had evidently been on watch at the time of the +attack, had been disarmed, and was now being bound by some of the +<i>Evelyn MacDonald’s</i> crew.</p> + +<p>Farther aft, two more of the enemy lay prone with their weapons beside +them, and looking along the upper deck he saw more of his own men +binding the others.</p> + +<p>“What’s happened?” he inquired breathlessly, making his way towards the +nearest group of men.</p> + +<p>“Lor’ bless ye, sir!” exclaimed Ginger Smith excitedly; “they wus orl as +’elpless as babes. Th’ orficer ’ere fired ’is pistol afore we biffed ’im +on th’ ’ead, but orl th’ others wus lyin’ like cawpses! Lor’, it wus a +gran’ idea of ’Oratio’s, an’ no bloomin’ herror!”</p> + +<p>“But where is Horatio?” asked the captain, looking round and not seeing +the boy.</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>E wus on deck when we belted this ’ere cove on th’ nut,” remarked one +of the other seamen.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_81">{81}</a></span></p> + +<p>“What’s become of him, I wonder?” said Sims anxiously, for he had a +sudden horrible feeling that the boy had been killed or flung overboard.</p> + +<p>He left the poop and ran forward to the galley and put his head inside.</p> + +<p>Twilight was fast approaching, but he saw a small white figure sitting +on a locker.</p> + +<p>“Chivers!” he said concernedly, for there was something about the +youth’s attitude he did not like. “Chivers! Is that you?”</p> + +<p>“Yus, sir, it’s me,” said the figure in a husky whisper.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with you?” queried the captain sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“It ’urts somethink crool!” whimpered Horatio.</p> + +<p>“What hurts, sonny?”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, that cove wi’ a black beard fired ’is pistol an’ th’ +bullet went through me arm!” He showed his left arm, from a neat +puncture in which the blood was slowly trickling through his fingers.</p> + +<p>“Poor little chap!” said Sims huskily. “Come on, I’ll help you aft, and +we’ll put a bandage on it and soon make it better. Don’t forget, my +boy,” he added, “it was you who saved the ship!”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” whispered Horatio, as his shipmates clustered round +eager to help.</p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>Little more remains to be said. Horatio’s wound did not prove very +serious, for the bullet had gone through without touching the bone, and +when he had been bandaged, the drugged Germans were<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_82">{82}</a></span> clapped below in +the forecastle with an armed seaman to guard them, and once more the +ship was turned round on her course for the Cape of Good Hope.</p> + +<p>Some days later the captain of H.M.S. <i>Yorkshire</i>, a 22-knot cruiser, on +her way to Simon’s Bay, was rather surprised when a signalman knocked at +his cabin door and informed him that a British steamer was flying a +signal to the effect that she had prisoners she wished to transfer.</p> + +<p>“Prisoners!” he remarked, in a surprised voice. “Humph, some of their +own fellows kicked over the traces, I suppose!”</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the cruiser’s course was altered to close the tramp, and +stopping abreast of her, she lowered a boat.</p> + +<p>The cutter soon arrived alongside the <i>Evelyn MacDonald</i>, and a little +midshipman, followed by two armed marines, clambered on board.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got seventeen prisoners for you,” remarked Sims, when they had +saluted each other.</p> + +<p>“Seventeen what?” cried the small officer in amazement, fingering his +dirk.</p> + +<p>“Seventeen officers and men of the German navy!”</p> + +<p>The middy opened his eyes in astonishment. “But how the dickens did they +get here?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Sims told him what had happened.</p> + +<p>“Well, this is the rummiest business I’ve ever heard of,” declared the +future Nelson. “Oh, lor’, though,” he added, “it’s a bit tough her +capturing you, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“I should jolly well think it was, mister,” agreed the skipper with a +smile.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_83">{83}</a></span></p> + +<p>“By the way, captain,” remarked the midshipman, as the prisoners were +being transferred to the boat, “I should awfully like to shake hands +with that Horatio of yours!”</p> + +<p>Horatio, much to his disgust and blushing furiously, was pushed forward +and solemnly introduced to the young officer, who gravely saluted, and +then wrung him by the hand.</p> + +<p>“I say, old chap,” he suddenly remarked, bursting with curiosity, “you +might let me have a look at the hole in your arm!”</p> + +<p>Horatio was forced to untie his bandage and exhibit the neat little +puncture.</p> + +<p>“I’d give a year’s pay for that!” sighed the middy, for he had never +been in action himself.</p> + +<p>The officers and men of the <i>Evelyn MacDonald</i> broke into a roar of +laughter, in which even the solemn-faced marines joined.</p> + +<p>Half-an-hour later the prisoners had been safely transferred, and the +man-of-war, with her crew cheering themselves hoarse—for the story had +become known all over the ship—was steaming off to the southward.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards the steamer followed suit, and in due course arrived at +her destination.</p> + +<p>Horatio, I hear, is now serving in the Royal Navy, but he still bears a +scar on his left arm, and he is not a little proud of it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_84">{84}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="V">V</a><br><br> +THE SALVAGE OF THE <i>CASHMERE</i></h2> + +<p class="nind">“<span class="smcap">Well</span>,” remarked Captain Morris of the tug <i>Evening Star</i>, as he slowly +refilled his pipe, “things have been pretty bad wi’ us fur th’ last six +months. As ye know, mate, I sank all me capital in this old hooker when +me poor missus died. The craft’s cost me more’n I care to think about, +what wi’ th’ coal, upkeep, an’ wages, and we’ve not had a job wuth +calling a job fur a long time. There’s Tom’s schoolin’ to think about, +too,” he continued, glancing at his sixteen-year-old son, who sat on the +cushioned locker beside him.</p> + +<p>Johnson, the mate, nodded, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you let me take that job at the shipbuilding yard, father?” +said the boy. “I should earn enough to live on, and then I should cost +you nothing.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t grudge the money, my son,” continued the skipper; “don’t think +that. You’ve bin a good lad, an’ ’tis money well spent. I did want to +get ye that job along o’ th’ Wireless Telegraphy Company. The work here +in the yard’ll lead to nothing, an’ ye’ll be stuck here all yer life.”</p> + +<p>Tom himself did not fancy the idea of spending his days in the little +seaport town of Halmouth, though, to save his father expense, he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_85">{85}</a></span> +quite prepared to enter Mr. Saunders’ shipbuilding yard.</p> + +<p>“But,” he said, “if nothing else turns up, I must take what I can.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid so,” replied Morris with a sigh.</p> + +<p>“What are ye thinkin’ o’ doin’, then, cap’n?” broke in the mate. “Goin’ +to chuck the sea?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll have to sell this craft an’ get a job ashore,” growled the +skipper. “The Tug an’ Lighter Company have made me an offer for her, +an’, though ’tis two hundred less than I gave for her two year ago, I’ll +have to take it. Buyin’ an’ sellin’ are two different things, an’ she’s +runnin’ sweeter now than ever she was; besides, look at the money I’ve +spent on her.”</p> + +<p>The mate muttered something under his breath, for he did not like the +idea of serving under some other skipper.</p> + +<p>“Well,” continued Morris, glancing at the clock on the bulkhead, and +rising to his feet and stretching himself, “<span class="lftspc">’</span>tis close on time; we’d +best be getting off. Tom, my son, you’d best turn in; it’ll give ye a +chance of gettin’ to sleep afore we starts lollopin’ about outside.”</p> + +<p>“No, father,” exclaimed the boy; “I’m not a bit tired, and I’d much +rather stay up with you.”</p> + +<p>“Right ye are, then,” replied his father with a smile; “but when I was +your age I liked my bed a fair sight more’n you do.”</p> + +<p>With this concluding remark he went on deck, followed by Tom and the +mate.</p> + +<p>The <i>Evening Star</i> lay anchored in the harbour, while all round her +glittered the lights of the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page_86">{86}</a></span>coasting craft, taking shelter from the bad +weather outside.</p> + +<p>The little vessel rolled gently on the slight swell coming in from +seaward, while overhead the detached masses of cloud, scurrying across +the face of the sky on the strong south-westerly wind, showed that it +was blowing a full gale. The glass was also falling rapidly, so there +was every prospect of the weather outside being bad.</p> + +<p>Tom, at the time of which I write, was studying at a school some +distance away from Halmouth, and was now home on his holidays. He was +trying for a position in a wireless telegraphy company, a profession in +which the prospects were good, and being naturally intelligent and a +hard worker, he had every prospect of success in the entrance +examination which was due to be held in six months’ time.</p> + +<p>The news that his father would not be able to afford his school fees any +more came as rather a shock; but, though it was a bitter disappointment, +he put a brave face upon it.</p> + +<p>As a rule he spent his holidays with his unmarried aunt, who had a +little house in Halmouth; but, if the truth must be told, he was not +over-fond of the austere old lady, who had such strange ideas as to how +boys should behave; so more often than not he lived on board the +<i>Evening Star</i> with his father, and looked upon the occasional trips to +sea as a great treat.</p> + +<p>Once on deck, the skipper glanced round with his practised eye.</p> + +<p>“I don’t like the look of the weather,” he observed to Johnson; “look at +all that wrack up there to wind’ard.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_87">{87}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Looks pretty bad,” agreed the mate.</p> + +<p>“We must go out,” said the skipper, “for all the weather may be. Are ye +all ready for gettin’ the anchor up?”</p> + +<p>“All ready, cap’n.”</p> + +<p>“All right; get her up, then,” ordered Morris, making his way to the +little bridge, followed by his son. “We’re in for a dirty night, my +lad,” he observed, “an’ we’d best get our oilskins on now.”</p> + +<p>He disappeared into the wheelhouse, and presently reappeared with two +bundles.</p> + +<p>“Here ye are, boy,” he said, throwing one into Tom’s arms; “they’ll be a +bit big for ye, but ye’ll want ’em afore the night’s out.”</p> + +<p>Tom put them on, and, with a sou’wester crammed down over his ears, took +his place on the bridge alongside his father.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later the tug was threading her way through the +crowded anchorage, and soon afterwards passed the bobbing buoys at the +harbour mouth.</p> + +<p>Once in the open water, the combined forces of the wind and sea began to +make themselves felt, and whiffs of spray rattled on the painted canvas +weather screens of the bridge like volleys of small shot, and this soon +developed into a regular shower of water as the little ship drove her +way seaward at ten knots.</p> + +<p>“How d’ye like it, Tom?” asked the skipper. “Feelin’ seasick?”</p> + +<p>“Seasick!” exclaimed Tom indignantly. “I’m enjoying myself fine; much +better than being with Aunt Susan, and having to be in bed by half-past +eight!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_88">{88}</a></span></p> + +<p>Morris laughed, and clutching the bridge rail with one brawny hand to +steady himself, motioned to the helmsman to put the wheel over.</p> + +<p>The bows of the little ship swung round as she took up her new course, +and as she was now heading the sea, she rolled and pitched horribly. One +instant the bows of the tug were under water, while the next they would +be flung high in the air as a gigantic sea raced in from the gloom +ahead.</p> + +<p>Shipping heavy masses of water, and with the spray driving over her +funnel top, the brave little vessel fought her way westward. The water +washed round the sea-booted legs of those on the bridge, but holding on +to the rails, they peered ahead through the darkness.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be seen except the dark gloom of the land and the flashes +from a lighthouse away on the starboard bow, while from the +south-westward the enormous hillocks of water, the broken water on their +summits showing grey in the darkness of the night, advanced on the +labouring tug.</p> + +<p>At midnight the skipper turned over the watch to the mate, and leaving +orders to be called at two o’clock, retired to his tiny cabin.</p> + +<p>Tom also went below, and taking off his dripping oilskins, wedged +himself firmly on the cushioned lockers in the little saloon. He was +dog-tired, and in spite of the violent movement, was soon fast asleep.</p> + +<p>By the time the skipper returned to the bridge the <i>Evening Star</i> was +well out at sea, and when the mate had gone below the engines were eased +to dead slow. The movement instantly became</p> + +<div class="figcenter" id="ill_006"> +<a href="images/i_089.jpg"> +<img src="images/i_089.jpg" width="360" height="550" alt=""></a> +<br> +<span class="caption">“The fiery trail of a rocket leapt out from the +darkness.”<br><br> +<i>To face <a href="#page_89">page 89</a></i><br> +</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_89">{89}</a></span></p> + +<p class="nind">gentler, and the tug rode over the seas without shipping a drop of +water.</p> + +<p>Morris stumped up and down the bridge smoking his pipe, stopping every +now and then to look round the horizon; but nothing rewarded his gaze +except the lights of a few ships making their way up Channel.</p> + +<p>Three o’clock came, and by this time the sky overhead had commenced to +clear, and presently stars appeared.</p> + +<p>The skipper noted these changes with a grunt of satisfaction, and was +just about to continue his walk when he suddenly stopped dead. His eye +had been caught by a shower of bright falling stars far ahead, in the +deep blue sky on the horizon.</p> + +<p>“By gum! What’s that?” he muttered.</p> + +<p>He had not long to wait, for hardly were the words out of his mouth when +the fiery trail of a rocket leapt out from the darkness. He watched it +until it burst in a shower of white stars, and then, motioning to the +helmsman to steer straight for it, jumped to the engine-room telegraph +and put it to “full speed ahead.” He then took the syren lanyard and +gave it several lusty pulls.</p> + +<p>The hoarse braying of the powerful instrument bellowed out in a series +of loud “whoops,” and before the noise had died away, Tom, the mate, and +the engineer came rushing on to the bridge.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” they all asked in chorus.</p> + +<p>“Ship in distress,” said the skipper abruptly, as the tug forged ahead. +“She’s bin firin’ rockets.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke there was another trail of fire, followed by a shower of +stars, as a third rocket climbed upwards and then burst.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_90">{90}</a></span></p> + +<p>“It may mean a salvage job for us,” ejaculated Morris, feeling strangely +excited. “Mate, get a blue light to answer them.”</p> + +<p>The engineer had vanished on the mention of the word “salvage,” and soon +the little tug was quivering as she leapt forward at her best speed.</p> + +<p>Johnson quickly reappeared, and before long a blue light had been +ignited and was spluttering in his hand. The flare shone out over the +heaving sea, illuminating the wave tops as they rushed by, and presently +it was answered by a flare from something dead ahead.</p> + +<p>“She’s seen us, whoever she is!” exclaimed Morris.</p> + +<p>The <i>Evening Star</i> was rapidly approaching, and in about twenty minutes +a dull black blur, punctuated by row after row of lighted portholes, +became visible in the darkness right ahead.</p> + +<p>“She’s a thunderin’ great ship!” gasped the mate, gazing at her in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>“One of the Australian mail boats, I think,” remarked the skipper, who +was looking at her through his binoculars. “I can see two masts and +funnels, and—yes, by gum! she’s showing her two red not-under-control +lights!” he added, with a pleased, excited laugh.</p> + +<p>“Mail boat!” exclaimed Johnson; “that’ll mean a tidy lot o’ money for us +if we give her a tow!”</p> + +<p>“It will, mate!” agreed Morris joyfully.</p> + +<p>Tom, too, felt pleased, for the opportunity for which they had all +wished had evidently come.</p> + +<p>Steaming on, the tug was soon close alongside the great liner, round +whose hull the sea broke in masses of spray. Taking his ship close, +Morris<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_91">{91}</a></span> took a megaphone and stepped to the end of his bucketing bridge.</p> + +<p>“What ship is that?” he bellowed. “D’you want assistance?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” came back a voice from the towering bulk above. “We’re the +<i>Cashmere</i>. We struck sunken wreckage about a couple of hours ago, and +our rudder’s gone, while the port propeller’s damaged. We’re not making +any water to speak of.”</p> + +<p>“D’you want a tow, then?” shouted the skipper.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” came back the reply. “Could you get us along to Halmouth? We can +land the passengers and mails there.”</p> + +<p>“I can take ye there,” answered the joyful Morris.</p> + +<p>A few more shouted directions passed between the two vessels while a +knot of men on the liner’s forecastle made the end of a coir hawser fast +to a life-buoy.<a id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> This was then thrown overboard, and the line was paid +out while the tug backed astern.</p> + +<p>After what seemed an eternity the buoy was seen floating on the heaving +water close to the side of the <i>Evening Star</i>, and when several +unsuccessful attempts had been made, it was at length dragged on board. +It was then taken to the steam winch, and the powerful little engine +commenced to heave in fathom after fathom as Morris manœuvred the tug so +as to get ahead of theº <i>Cashmere</i>.</p> + +<p>It all took time, but before long a wire hawser appeared, made fast to +the end of the coir. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_92">{92}</a></span> end of this was secured to the towing hook in +the tug, and at length there came a hail from the liner to say the other +end had also been made fast.</p> + +<p>Putting the engine-room telegraph at “Half speed,” Morris circled the +<i>Evening Star</i> round for her course for Halmouth. But the engineer below +made a fatal mistake; he gave the engines rather too much speed, and as +the weight of the liner came on the hawser it suddenly tautened and flew +out of the water. The skipper saw at once what had happened, and dashed +to the telegraph to stop the engines.</p> + +<p>He was too late, however, for there was a sharp crack, and the steel +wire suddenly snapped in two. The vessels were once more separated.</p> + +<p>“That comes o’ using their bloomin’ wires,” muttered the skipper +angrily; “a decent bit o’ hemp ’ud never part like that!”</p> + +<p>The men in both ships hauled in the ends of the broken wire, and as they +did so Morris reviewed the situation in his mind. He had on board the +<i>Evening Star</i> a strong 18-inch hemp rope, which would tow the liner +with safety, but the question was how to get it across to the other +ship.</p> + +<p>He could not float it on account of its weight, while the sea was still +too great to lower a boat, and to take the tug close to the disabled +ship was too risky to be attempted. He did not wish to lose the chance +of towing the <i>Cashmere</i>, but though he thought hard, he could see no +way out of the difficulty.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what to do, my son,” he at length remarked to Tom in a +puzzled voice; “their blessed wire’s parted, and how are we to get +another across?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_93">{93}</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy thought for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t I swim across with a thin line, father?” he said at length. +“We could tie a life-buoy on to the end of it, and then they could haul +a hawser across.”</p> + +<p>The skipper looked surprised.</p> + +<p>“Swim!” he exclaimed. “How d’ye expect to do it in this sea? You’d never +get there.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I would, father,” replied Tom confidently; “you forget I won a +prize for swimming last summer term.”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t let ye do it,” said Morris; “it’s too dangerous, an’ I don’t +want to lose ye. Look at the sea!”</p> + +<p>Tom looked at the heaving waste of water, and it certainly did appear +alarming, for the wind whistled across the great rolling waves until +their broken tops were flung to leeward in clouds of flying scud.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do let me!” he pleaded. “I shall be perfectly safe if I have a +lifebelt on, and I shall be holding on to a life-buoy the whole time. +You can always haul me back if there’s any danger.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like to,” returned his father hesitatingly; “not but what ye’d +do it, but supposing ye got drowned.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t get drowned, father,” answered Tom. “How can I if I’ve got a +lifebelt on? Just think of what it means. If you tow this ship home +you’ll make a lot of money, and if you don’t, somebody else will. You +must let me go, father!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it means a lot to me; but suppose—— ”</p> + +<p>“You’ll let me go, then?” interrupted Tom, who saw his father was coming +round to his way of thinking.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_94">{94}</a></span></p> + +<p>The skipper waited a moment or two, thinking, and then nodded slowly.</p> + +<p>“Hooray!” shouted the boy. “I’ll get ready at once!” He ran off the +bridge.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, with a cork jacket round his body and clutching a +life-buoy, to which the end of a thin line had been made fast, Tom leapt +into the water over the tug’s stern. The line was slacked, and, striking +out with his legs, he pushed the buoy through the water and soon got +clear of the tug.</p> + +<p>In five minutes he was half-way between the two ships, but it was +becoming hard work.</p> + +<p>At times he would be borne skywards on the foaming crest of a sea, while +the next moment he would be deep down in a hollow. Still he struggled on +with dogged perseverance, and though breathing was difficult and his +eyes were full of scud, so that he could hardly see where he was going, +he was moving slowly forward.</p> + +<p>Those in the liner had noticed what had taken place, and while the +passengers thronged the side and watched the lad’s gallant struggle, for +it was now daylight, a rope ladder was lowered over the bows, and a man +with a rope round his waist and with the coil of another in his hand, +descended to the bottom to help Tom on his arrival.</p> + +<p>On and on struggled the swimmer, until at last he came within fifty feet +of the great ship, whose tall, black side towered high above him. He was +beginning to feel tired and cold; but he still swum strongly, and in a +short time was close to the foot of the ladder.</p> + +<p>A second or two later a gigantic sea lifted him towards it, and he made +a frantic grasp for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_95">{95}</a></span> lower rung. He missed it, and was being swept +away, when the man on the ladder seized his opportunity and threw his +rope.</p> + +<p>The bowline in the end fell close to the boy, who had the presence of +mind to clutch it and place it round his body under his arms. He then +undid the smaller rope attached to the life-buoy, and made that also +fast round his waist, and, lifting his hand, gave the signal for those +on deck to haul in. They pulled with a will, and in a second he felt +himself swing into the air, and managed to grasp the ladder.</p> + +<p>He rested for a moment, for his ordeal had tired him out, and then, with +the man’s assistance, slowly climbed on deck. He had done what he said +he would, and as he appeared the crew and passengers of the <i>Cashmere</i> +broke into cheer after cheer.</p> + +<p>Tom was exhausted after his swim, but was soon taken below to a cabin +and provided with a suit of clothes, while before he reappeared on deck +the hawser from the <i>Evening Star</i> had been hauled on board, and the two +vessels were moving slowly up Channel.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards the wind and sea began to go down, and eight hours later +the two ships dropped their anchors in Halmouth harbour. Morris came on +board the <i>Cashmere</i> immediately afterwards, and was greeted by his son +at the top of the accommodation ladder.</p> + +<p>“I’m proud of ye, my son,” exclaimed the skipper, with a quiver in his +voice, and wringing the boy’s hand; “I’m proud of ye!”</p> + +<p>“So are we all,” said the captain of the liner, coming forward with +outstretched hand, “and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_96">{96}</a></span> passengers have all been spoiling him. I +should be proud to have a son like him!”</p> + +<p>Tom blushed.</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” said Morris, “he’s a good son, an’ all’s well that ends +well.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve both done us a good turn,” said the other, “and a good stroke of +business for yourself at the same time, for I can assure you my owners +won’t forget it. Come along to the saloon, captain,” he continued, “for +the passengers want to thank you, too.”</p> + +<p>Much against his will, the skipper was ushered below, and on his +appearance in the gorgeously decorated saloon, where all the passengers +were assembled, there was a burst of cheering.</p> + +<p>Morris stood nervously fingering his cap, for he was unused to things of +this kind; but, holding up his hand for silence, the captain of the +liner made a short speech.</p> + +<p>“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “you have all met the captain’s son, +but now I must introduce the captain himself. He saw our rockets and +came to our assistance, and Master Tom here swam across with the line +after the hawser broke. It is due to them both that we have reached our +journey’s end in safety, and I will ask you to give them three cheers. I +think they deserve it.”</p> + +<p>This was the signal for another outburst, and when at length it had +subsided a well-groomed, portly old gentleman advanced.</p> + +<p>“Captain Morris,” he began, “I have been asked by the passengers to +express to you, your noble son, and your gallant crew, our heartfelt +thanks for what you have done for us. Er—you have saved us from a +predicament which might well<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_97">{97}</a></span> have resulted in a tragedy had it not been +for your timely assistance, and I have great pleasure in handing you +this small gift on behalf of us all, as a thank-offering for our +deliverance.”</p> + +<p>Here he handed the skipper a small brown-paper parcel.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Tom and his father, having thanked the passengers for +their gift, were back on board the tug, and when the skipper, and his +son, the mate, and the engineer were sitting down to tea in the little +cabin, the skipper produced the parcel from his pocket, and opening it +took out two envelopes, one addressed to himself and the other to Tom.</p> + +<p>“By gum!” he cried, opening his, and pulling out a bundle of notes and +cheques, “fifty, a hundred, two hundred, three hundred pounds!”</p> + +<p>“And a hundred here!” shouted Tom, displaying a cheque. “Father, they +have been good to us!”</p> + +<p class="astt">. . . . . .</p> + +<p>Little more remains to be said. The captain distributed the money among +his crew in shares, the latter insisting that Tom should keep the whole +of his hundred pounds.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards another substantial sum of money was received from the +owners of the <i>Cashmere</i>, and it far exceeded the amount Morris had +expected; for his share, when invested, gave him an income sufficient to +keep him in comfort for the remainder of his life.</p> + +<p>The skipper has now left the sea, but the <i>Evening Star</i> is still +running, under the command of her former mate.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_98">{98}</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom realised his ambition, for he is now a wireless telegraphy operator +on board one of the large Transatlantic liners, and, though he has been +through many adventures, he has never forgotten his swim on the occasion +when he helped to salve the <i>Cashmere</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_99">{99}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="VI">VI</a><br><br> +THE INNER PATROL</h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">War</span> was a reality, and had actually been in progress for over a month, +and the four destroyers, their black shapes sliding noiselessly +throughout the night, steamed to and fro with no lights off the entrance +to the blockaded harbour. They had been doing this for over three weeks, +and since the day after the fleet action on the very outbreak of +hostilities in which the enemy had been badly worsted and compelled to +retire under the guns of their fortress, they had been carrying out the +same routine. There were well over forty torpedo craft actually +patrolling, but of these four had been told off for the advanced patrol +line and were consequently some distance inshore of the remainder of +their consorts.</p> + +<p>Sometimes at night they would move slowly to and fro on a line parallel +to and about five miles off the coast and the entrance to the harbour, +but during the daytime they withdrew seaward, and their places were +filled by a cordon of cruisers stationed fifteen miles off the land. A +nearer approach in broad daylight was not permissible, for the enemy’s +coast defences, armed with powerful long-range guns, had to be treated +with due respect. The blockade was maintained with ruthless vigilance, +however, for the lines of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_100">{100}</a></span> destroyers, scouts and cruisers guarded all +means of exit from the doomed fortress. Away to seaward lay the whole +battle fleet, the admiral in command being in constant communication +with his inshore vessels by means of wireless telegraphy.</p> + +<p>The enemy had not been particularly active, and except for the fleet +action, in which it was reported that four of their battleships had been +sunk and three more and one battle-cruiser badly damaged, their losses +were not known. At the close of the battle the torpedo craft had been +sent in to convert the retreat into a rout, but although they had +attacked the fleeing enemy the results of their efforts were not known, +while several of the destroyers had been badly injured and had finally +sunk. Since then there had been little going on, for although the +hostile torpedo craft had put to sea at night on three different +occasions, they had each time been forced back by the watching vessels. +The losses in these encounters were not known for certain, but while +that of the blockaders consisted of some couple of dozen men killed and +wounded and a destroyer temporarily disabled, it was thought that two of +the enemy’s craft had been lost. The hostile submarines, strangely +enough, had been comparatively inactive.</p> + +<p>The men in the blockading craft were getting sick of it. Not sick of the +war, but tired of doing nothing, and in spite of the hard time they were +having they were spoiling for a fight.</p> + +<p>The weary monotony of the patrol was beginning to tell on their nerves, +and they were all, without exception, decidedly annoyed with the enemy +for not having more dash and initiative.</p> + +<p>The last ship of the four comprising the inner<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_101">{101}</a></span> patrol is the one which +principally concerns us, and her ship’s company, although the remainder +of their flotilla mates called them “pirates,” were perhaps more than +usually anxious for the fight from this selfsame reason. It was a +pitch-dark night, and the stars and moon were obscured in the heavy +clouds banked in the sky, while the north-westerly wind whistled over +the surface of the sea and flung the foam from the top of the short +curling seas to leeward in sheets of spray. It was midwinter and +bitterly cold, and the icy blast numbed all those on board to the very +marrow, while to touch metal with the bare hand was painful. The decks, +in the places to which the warmth of the boilers had not penetrated, +were covered with a thin sheet of ice which was momentarily becoming +thicker as the driving spray fell and froze, and in spite of their +sheepskin coats, leather sea-boots, and fur caps with ear flaps, the +officers and men were almost numb.</p> + +<p>On the bridge stood the captain—a young lieutenant-commander—with his +sub-lieutenant, signal man, and quartermaster, and every now and then +the officers would stamp their feet and swing their arms to restore +their circulation. The ship ahead, the white wash of her wake showing up +through the blackness of the night, could be seen as a dim shadow over +the bows, while far off on the beam the dull line of the coast was +occasionally visible through the rifts in the driving squalls. The +little ship was all ready for action, for steam was up for full speed, +while the torpedoes were ready in their tubes and the guns had their +ammunition by them. The watch on deck, except for a look-out at each +tube, were huddled together under such<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_102">{102}</a></span> shelter as they could obtain +from the wind; some were smoking and talking in a low voice, while +others were fitfully dozing. Sleep, however, was out of the question on +account of the cold, and every now and then a recumbent form would sit +up with a grunt and a yawn and curse the weather in extremely nautical +language.</p> + +<p>“Strike me bloomin’ well pink, Bill,” said an able seaman to his chum. +“I’m gettin’ fair fed up with this ’ere, for all the fun we’ve ’ad we +might as well be mobilisin’!”</p> + +<p>“What yer talkin’ about?” replied his friend. “When they does come out +you’ll get yer bellyful all right, I expect. You’ll be singin’ out then +right enuf!”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t afraid of ’em,” answered the first speaker, “but this ’ere +show’s too perishin’ parky for the likes o’ me; knockin’ abart the ’ole +time doin’ nothing gives me the fair ’ump. G-r-r-r, it’s cold!”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, ole chum, you’ll be warm soon enuf, I reckon,” said the +other.</p> + +<p>The conversation continued, and the commanding officer, happening to +hear what was said, for the speakers were sitting on the deck at the +foot of the ladder leading to the bridge, turned to his sub-lieutenant +and said, “Well, judging from what they say they’re just about as fed up +with this show as I am. I wish to goodness they’d come and have it out!” +He was referring to the enemy.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, so do I,” replied the sub. “We ought to be at the end of the +patrol line in another twenty minutes,” he added, “and then we make the +sixteen-point turn to the opposite course.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, keep a good look out, and call me if<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_103">{103}</a></span> you see or hear +anything,” said the lieutenant-commander. “I’ll try to get a bit of a +caulk. Look out, and don’t get astern of station,” and so saying he lay +down in a deck chair on the bridge.</p> + +<p>Now a deck chair on the bridge of a destroyer in midwinter is not an +ideal place for sleep, however many clothes you may have on, and the +commanding officer soon gave it up as a bad job and sat staring up at +the scurrying clouds above his head. It was getting on for one o’clock +in the morning, and he had spent most of his nights in this manner for +the past three weeks, taking what sleep he could in the daytime. He had +had a hurried wash now and then, but had hardly been out of his clothes, +except to change them occasionally, for the whole period. His young +face, the cheeks and chin now covered with a thick stubble, seemed +prematurely aged, and he bore no resemblance to the smart young officer +of three months before. He had aged, and no wonder, for was he not one +of the watches upon whom his admiral depended to stop the hostile +torpedo craft if they came out? If they were allowed to steal unmolested +to the open sea they might be able to deliver a successful attack on the +battle fleet, so it was not to be marvelled at that the officers on the +advanced patrol felt the responsibility laid heavily upon them.</p> + +<p>The weary night drew on, and the patrolling boats steamed to and fro on +their beat, but the enemy showed no signs of activity. At about 2.15 +a.m., however, the sullen thud of a heavy explosion in the direction of +the harbour floated down on the wind. “Cæsar’s aunt!” shouted the +lieutenant-commander, springing up. “Wha<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_104">{104}</a></span>t’s that?” “Sounded to me like +a mine,” answered the sub-lieutenant. “I’ll take my oath it wasn’t a +gun.”</p> + +<p>“But who’d be messin’ about on top of mines at this time of night? There +are none of our craft inshore of us,” said the commanding officer. “By +George, though! I’ve got it,” after a minute’s thought, “you know our +minelayers were at work off the harbour entrance about a week ago. +That’s what it is. The other fellows are comin’ out, and one of the +silly blighters has got mixed up in our minefield. It can’t be +destroyers, they’d never come out at this time of the mornin’, give them +no time to get back before daylight, and it’s their big ships or I’m a +Dutchman!” He was still looking towards the shore some five miles away, +and had barely spoken when the fiery trail of a rocket shot skywards +from close in under the land. It burst in a shower of stars which +illuminated everything in the vicinity, and for a brief moment the +watchers saw, or thought they could see, a series of deeper shadows +gathered under the low cliffs. Before they could make certain, however, +the light had gone. But if the shadows were really there they could only +be one thing, the enemy’s fleet.</p> + +<p>“We’re in for a scrap at last,” exclaimed the captain, rubbing his +hands. “Send down and tell the engineer to stand by for a spurt, and +warn the hands to be ready!”</p> + +<p>The men needed no encouragement, for they were all awake. All hands and +the cook were on deck gazing anxiously landwards, and soon dispersed to +their stations at the guns and torpedo tubes. The lieutenant-commander, +meanwhile, was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_105">{105}</a></span> watching his next ahead, and as he looked he saw a +series of red flashes made with a hand lamp, and a second later a +whistle sounded shrilly along the line.</p> + +<p>“Great Scott! He’s going in to attack!” he exclaimed, jumping to the +engine-room telegraphs and jamming them on to full speed. “Look out for +the foremost tube, sub. You’ll have to fire when your sights come on, +and stand by to come up here if I get knocked out.” He was right. The +senior officer had decided to take his chance and to attack, and in a +short time the four destroyers were on their way for the harbour +entrance at a good twenty knots.</p> + +<p>Suddenly from the darkness right ahead the dazzling white ray of a +searchlight shot out; it flickered for an instant, and then rested full +on the leading boat. In another second at least half a dozen more had +been switched on, and shortly afterwards the guns commenced their +uproar. The vivid red flashes stabbed the darkness of the night, while +the thundering reports, punctuated now and then by the poom-poom-poom of +the lighter guns—for the enemy were using pom-poms—reverberated +through the air in a noisy crescendo of sound. The whine of the shell +and the crash of their explosions could be heard above the din, while at +times the beams of the searchlights would be all but obscured by the +fountains of spray flung up by the falling projectiles. At first the +shooting was wild, but as more guns chimed in it became better, and the +thrown-up spray was falling on the decks of the attacking boats while +the shell splinters whistled through the air. Nobody as yet had been +actually hit, and they drew closer<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_106">{106}</a></span> and closer, until the leading boat +put her helm over and swung abruptly to starboard, and followed by the +remainder of her flock steamed at full speed along the enemy’s line some +six hundred yards off. It could now be seen that there were about half a +dozen big ships moving slowly ahead, and the leading destroyer, as she +swung, fired two torpedoes. Then, after what seemed an eternity, an +enormous upheaval of mingled water and flame rose at the side of the +battleship, as still firing wildly she vanished in the smoke and spray +astern. The roar of the detonation was all but drowned by the reports of +the guns, but there was no doubt that one torpedo had gone home.</p> + +<p>The fire had now become accurate, and shell after shell, bursting on +impact with the water, sent its jagged fragments whistling across the +attackers’ deck. Men commenced to fall, rents appeared in the funnels, +boats were splintered, but still they swept on, each vessel as she came +abreast her opposite number in the enemy’s line firing her torpedoes. +How many got home it was impossible to say, for the smoke and spray all +but blotted out the outline of the hostile ships. A series of explosions +were heard, however, so it was hoped that several of the weapons had +found their billet.</p> + +<p>The whole attack was over in less than four minutes from the first gun +being fired, and in another two the destroyers were swallowed up in the +darkness and were steaming to sea as fast as their damaged condition +could allow them. The enemy were still firing, but their shot was +falling nowhere near the retreating destroyers. Presently, however, this +ceased and all was silent once more.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_107">{107}</a></span></p> + +<p>On getting about three miles from the coast the leading boat stopped, +and on comparing notes with the others it was found that in the whole +sub-division one officer and eighteen men had been killed outright, +while fourteen others were wounded. The boats themselves were not +vitally damaged, but the funnels, sides, and decks of all four were +badly perforated and torn. There was an underwater hole—the only +one—in the second boat, but the engines and boilers remained untouched, +and on the orifice being plugged she could keep down the flow of water +with her pumps.</p> + +<p>A wireless signal was made to the supporting cruisers telling them that +an attack had been made, and the wounded were made as comfortable as +possible until daylight, when the destroyers would be able to approach +their own fleet. Towards 4 a.m. another burst of firing broke out in the +direction of the harbour, and it was surmised that the outer patrolling +boats had gone in to attack. More firing took place at irregular +intervals till daylight, as attack after attack was pressed home, and it +was evident that the enemy were having anything but a pleasant time.</p> + +<p>Towards six o’clock the first signs of dawn appeared to the eastward, +and by 6.30 it was light enough to see the harbour entrance. Two big +ships appeared to be ashore, and another was sunk with her masts and +funnels above water, but beyond this it was impossible to see any +details. At 7 a.m. the four destroyers steamed slowly seawards, and +passing the outlying cruisers, met the battle fleet, which had +approached to within twenty miles of the coast. The killed and wounded +were sent aboard the larger vessels,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_108">{108}</a></span> and after being supplied with +spare torpedoes the four proceeded at their best speed for their base to +repair damages. As they left the signal “Well done, destroyers” +fluttered from the foremost head of the flagship, and the weary crews +broke into a throaty cheer as the signalmen read out the meaning of the +cluster of flags.</p> + +<p>They had done their work, and done it well, for the enemy’s fleet had +been badly mauled. Life was well worth living. Even the thought of their +dead and wounded messmates did not damp their spirits, for they knew +they had carried out their work, and that their days and nights of weary +watching had not been in vain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_109">{109}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="VII">VII</a><br><br> +THE GUN-RUNNERS</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">There</span> was no doubt that Jim Watson was in a very bad way. For three +long, weary weeks he had wandered round the London docks on the look-out +for a berth as cabin-boy. He had interviewed many masters and mates, but +without success, for the first question he was invariably asked was: +“Have you been to sea before?”</p> + +<p>“No,” was all he could say; and, sick at heart, he had been turned away +again and again. The family had migrated to England some four years +previous to the time of which I write, and Jim’s mother had died a year +afterwards. Mr. Watson had managed to secure a subordinate position in a +shipping office in the City, but the loss of his wife had preyed on his +mind, and three years afterwards he too had died.</p> + +<p>So Jim had found himself an orphan at the age of fifteen, and, with two +sovereigns and a few silver coins in his pocket, was cast out into the +world to earn his own living. Relatives in England to whom he could +apply for assistance he had none, and although his father’s old friend +gave him a position as office boy, the meagre wages he received barely +sufficed to pay for his food, let<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_110">{110}</a></span> alone lodging. He had relations and +friends in Australia, and determined to throw up his position at the +office and endeavour to work his way out there as a cabin-boy in a ship; +but in spite of tramping the docks every day for three long weeks, he +had not yet succeeded in obtaining a berth. His small amount of money +was vanishing rapidly; for although he cut his food down to the smallest +possible limit, he found he could not live on less than 9d. a day, while +his bed in a doss-house cost him another 6d. a night. He had no +professional training, and although he was painstaking and plodding, his +schooling had not fitted him for any employment ashore which would bring +him in a living wage.</p> + +<p>While tramping the docks he had known what hunger was—that awful, +gnawing feeling of absolute emptiness which will turn even the strongest +man into a living wreck—and as he pursued his weary way along the +dock-side at Limehouse, he wondered how long it would last.</p> + +<p>Walking along, he came to a small grey-painted steamer called the <i>Sea +Foam</i>, made fast alongside the wharf. She was being loaded, and case +after case was lowered into her hold, while a swarm of stevedores were +hard at work amidst the rattling of steam winches and the shouts of the +foremen. He stood and watched the busy scene for a while, and then +noticing someone whose uniform cap showed him to be an officer of the +ship, he formed a sudden resolve to go on board and ask for a berth. +Walking up the gangway, he made his way forward and accosted the mate, +for he it was.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_111">{111}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Please, sir,” he commenced, “could you——?”</p> + +<p>“What is it, boy?” shouted the officer, turning round; “what do you +want?”</p> + +<p>Jim trembled; but in spite of the ferocity of the officer’s voice, there +was a gleam of kindness in his eyes, and taking courage again he said:</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, could you give me a berth? I want to go to Australia.”</p> + +<p>“Australia, boy?” thundered the mate. “Australia? We’re not going +there—going up the Straits. General cargo.”</p> + +<p>The boy thought for a minute, and then came to the conclusion that if +there was a chance of a berth he would give up the idea of joining his +relations.</p> + +<p>“I’m not very keen about Australia, sir,” he said. “I’m strong, and I +could do any work.”</p> + +<p>“Humph! On your beam ends, eh?” grunted the officer more kindly. “Well, +I did hear the old man say he wanted a boy to help the steward, and I +know he hasn’t shipped one yet. It’s a dog’s life, though,” he added, +looking at Jim. “Been to sea before?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know that that matters; you won’t have much sailoring to +do. Best wait and see the old man, he’ll be down along in an hour. Had +your breakfast?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>For answer the mate walked aft, and putting his head through the door +leading to the officers’ quarters under the bridge, bawled for the +steward, who presently emerged.</p> + +<p>“Look here, steward; take this youngster down below and give him +something to eat. He looks as if he wanted it, poor little chap!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_112">{112}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Jim gratefully, and following the steward, he was +soon gobbling up an enormous meal in the little cubby-hole which did +duty as a pantry.</p> + +<p>“Well, my son, you’re a rare ’un on the victuals!” gasped the steward, +as he watched the food disappear. “Hungry? Ain’t had nothing to eat for +a fortnight, I should think! What did you come here for?”</p> + +<p>“The officer said I might be taken on as a cabin-boy,” said Jim, between +his mouthfuls.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I did hear the old man say something about having a boy to +help me,” replied the steward. “Ye’ll have to mind your eye if he does +take you on, though; the old man’s a fair caution when he gets his rag +out.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind that, sir,” said Jim. “Can you tell me where the ship’s +going?”</p> + +<p>“I dunno exactly,” replied the man; “I believe it’s somewhere up the +Straits—Mediterranean, you know. This is her first trip; she’s a +brand-new ship—just been built on the Tyne.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know how long she will be away, sir?”</p> + +<p>“No, sonny, I don’t know for certain. The crew’s only signed on for the +voyage. The old man told them he thought ’twould be about three months; +but I don’t think he knows for certain. She’s a good ship, though. Not +like some of them ordinary tramps you see knocking around. She can do +her fifteen knots easy—most of them can’t do more than ten.”</p> + +<p>The conversation was here interrupted by shouts of “Steward!” And +answering, “Coming, sir!” the man said, as he left the pantry, “That’s +the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_113">{113}</a></span> old man. I expect he’ll want to see you in a minute.”</p> + +<p>Jim waited in anxiety, and when the steward reappeared and said, “Come +this way—he wants you,” he got up and followed the man to the officers’ +berth.</p> + +<p>“Are you the boy who wants a berth?” inquired a short, thick-set, +bearded man, who was sitting in front of the stove. He looked ferocious, +but his tone was not unkindly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Any experience?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said the boy, his heart failing him as he was asked the +inevitable question.</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll knock some into you; and so long as you do your work you +won’t fall foul of me. What about wages, now?”</p> + +<p>“I’m ready to take anything, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Five shillings a week I’ll give you. You get your food with the +steward, of course,” said the captain.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” gratefully replied Jim, for the amount, though small, +was more than he had expected.</p> + +<p>“Well, get your clothes aboard and the steward will show you your work. +We sail on the evening tide, about four o’clock.” He waved his hand to +show that the interview was at an end.</p> + +<p>Jim left the cabin delighted at the prospect of getting away so soon, +and, after asking his new master’s permission, went ashore to fetch his +scanty belongings and to purchase a few more necessary articles with the +remainder of his money.</p> + +<p>Returning towards noon, he found the cargo stowed and the men busy +preparing the ship for<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_114">{114}</a></span> sea. He was not idle long, however, for the +steward soon pounced upon him and initiated him into his new duties. +These consisted in fetching the officers’ food from the galley, laying +and clearing away the table before and after meals, waiting on the +officers, washing up the plates, knives and forks, cleaning out, making +the beds, and being generally responsible for the chief and second +mates’ berths. There was plenty of work to be done, and the whole +afternoon he was hard at it.</p> + +<p>Towards half-past three steam was up and ready, and soon afterwards the +dock gates opened and the <i>Sea Foam</i> was warped out through a basin +crowded with shipping, until she finally passed into the muddy Thames. +With a pilot on board she steamed slowly down the sinuous reaches of the +river, past the Rotherhithe, East India, and Victoria and Albert Docks, +and, off Gravesend, the pilot was dropped into his boat alongside, and +the ship increased her speed and shaped her course towards the open sea.</p> + +<p>It was all entirely novel to Jim, and he stood just below the bridge +ladder looking at the ever-changing panorama of ships and land as the +ship steamed along. All sorts and conditions of vessels there were: +great passenger liners, tramp steamers, large four-masted ocean-going +sailing ships, barges, etc., all claimed his attention in turn. He was, +however, interrupted; for the mate, who had been aft, suddenly rushed +forward, and, pushing Jim aside, dashed up the ladder on to the bridge, +taking the steps two at a time. From where the boy stood the skipper +could not be seen, but Jim could distinctly hear what was said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_115">{115}</a></span></p> + +<p>“There’s a Customs launch following us, sir!” the mate shouted. “She’s +cracking on all she knows, and will be alongside us in ten minutes!”</p> + +<p>“They must have spotted those cases of rifles and ammunition,” said the +skipper. “Look here, Barter, tell the engineer to go on all he knows. If +he can give us fifteen knots, we should give them the slip all right. I +hope they haven’t thought of wiring to Sheerness. They’ll have +torpedo-boats out looking for us if they have.”</p> + +<p>The mate did not wait to reply, but, running down the bridge ladder, +rushed to the engine-room hatch, down which he disappeared. The +vibration increased, and the <i>Sea Foam</i> was soon travelling at full +speed, with the foam dashing from her bows and clouds of black smoke +pouring from her funnel.</p> + +<p>“Rifles?” thought Jim. “What on earth are they up to?” Moreover, there +was something suspicious in the fact of the Customs boat’s following +them and the captain’s taking steps to prevent her overhauling his ship. +Glancing aft, he could see the little black-painted launch travelling at +full speed, while a man in the bows was waving his arms and motioning to +the steamer to stop. It was obvious, however, that the <i>Sea Foam</i> was +gaining, and going to the end of the bridge the captain derisively waved +his hand in reply, but made no effort to reduce speed.</p> + +<p>The pursuit was still kept up, and the steamer dashed along at a rate +which was entirely against all rules and regulations governing the speed +of vessels navigating the Thames. Try as she might, the Customs launch +could not overhaul her. From four hundred yards astern she had dropped +to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_116">{116}</a></span> half a mile, and at last, when darkness crept on and the sea got +choppy as the <i>Sea Foam</i> left the river and entered the estuary, her +pursuer turned tail and abandoned the chase.</p> + +<p>By 5:30 it was practically dark, and dashing along at her best speed the +steamer rapidly neared the open water. In another half-hour the short, +choppy waves had given way to heavier seas, and soon afterwards the +little vessel was pitching and rolling more; as her bows were turned to +the south-eastward towards the open sea.</p> + +<p>It was blowing hard from the south-west, and the heavy masses of cloud +were flying down from windward on the strong breeze. Occasional heavy +rain-squalls all but blotted out the lights round about, and it was +obvious that they were in for a dirty night. But in spite of the risk +the captain had ordered all lights to be obscured, for he was anxious +lest torpedo-boats from Sheerness might have been sent out to intercept +him, and these he naturally wished to avoid.</p> + +<p>Jim was still standing at the foot of the bridge ladder when he heard +someone come to the top of it.</p> + +<p>“Is that you, boy?” said the captain’s voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Jim.</p> + +<p>“Go to the steward and tell him to send up some hot coffee for me and +the mate.”</p> + +<p>Jim departed on his errand, and presently returned on deck and went to +the bridge with two cups of the steaming fluid balanced on a tray. It +was pitch dark and blowing hard, while the violent movement of the ship +made climbing the bridge ladder rather a difficult matter. The captain +and mate took the cups; and, left to him<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_117">{117}</a></span>self, Jim had a chance to look +about him. Far away to starboard twinkled the lights of Margate, while +nearer there were the red, white and green lights of a number of +steamers. Going to the end of the bridge, the boy peered over the canvas +weather-screen, noticing as he did so that the lights were still unlit; +and, as he watched the foaming white caps of the waves go seething past +the side of the ship, he heard the skipper make a sudden exclamation:</p> + +<p>“What’s that right ahead there, with no lights, Barter?” he gasped, +pointing out over the bows.</p> + +<p>“Destroyer or torpedo-boat!” said the mate, seizing his night glasses +and levelling them.</p> + +<p>Jim looked in the direction indicated, and there, barely a quarter of a +mile ahead, wallowing in the sea, was a long black shape whose four +funnels proclaimed her to be a torpedo-boat destroyer.</p> + +<p>“Hard-a-port!” shouted the captain, dropping his coffee cup on to the +deck with a crash; “we shall be into her!”</p> + +<p>The <i>Sea Foam</i> swung round and cleared the stern of the destroyer by +barely twenty yards, and as she did so, shouting could be heard from the +latter’s bridge.</p> + +<p>“What are you knocking about for without lights, you pirate?” yelled an +angry voice; “what ship is that?”</p> + +<p>“The <i>Caledonia</i>, London to Barcelona. Sea’s put our lights out!” +shouted back the skipper on the spur of the moment.</p> + +<p>The mate laughed; but an instant later he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“She smells a rat, sir—she’s after us!”</p> + +<p>It was true; for the destroyer, now right astern,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_118">{118}</a></span> was turning into the +wake of the steamer, and, as the latter was steadied on her original +course, volumes of sparks pouring from the funnels showed that she was +being driven for all she was worth.</p> + +<p>“They’ll have us, Barter,” gasped the skipper; “we can’t get away from +her; she’ll go twenty-five knots at least!”</p> + +<p>The man-of-war, however, had to turn, and by the time she was following +the <i>Sea Foam</i> she was fully half a mile astern. At that moment a dense, +blinding shower of rain drove down from the windward, shutting out all +lights and making it impossible to see more than one hundred yards +ahead. The skipper was not long in taking advantage of it, and on his +shouting “Hard-a-starboard!” to the man at the wheel, the steamer’s bows +were turned until she was pointing at right angles to her old course.</p> + +<p>“She’ll think we’ve gone straight on,” said the captain in an anxious +tone, “and if this squall lasts she may not spot us!”</p> + +<p>The mate looked anxiously astern and to windward, but there were no +signs of the warship, and it was still raining heavily. “I think we +shall do it, sir!” he said, as he walked to the compass to give a +direction to the man at the wheel.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour passed, the minutes seeming like hours to those on +the bridge, but still the <i>Sea Foam</i> forged ahead. At the end of this +time the squall was beginning to clear—and the destroyer was nowhere +visible.</p> + +<p>“Have the lamps lit, Barter, and bring her back to south-east,” ordered +the captain. “We’ve given her the slip.”</p> + +<p>They had.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_119">{119}</a></span></p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>“That was a narrow squeak,” cried the captain, as he mopped his +streaming face; “if it hadn’t been for that squall we’d have been +collared! If she does sight us now, I expect she’ll take us for someone +else, as we’ve got our lights burning.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, I thought she’d have us,” exclaimed Barter, “and I don’t +fancy a spell in gaol. I suppose we’d get that for gun-running! It’s a +pretty serious offence to be collared smuggling arms out of a country +for another country at war!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’d be prison and a fine, Barter. But it’s a paying game. We +stand to get something pretty considerable between us if we can dump +this lot in the Gulf of Sidra without being collared!”</p> + +<p>Jim, seeing that the conversation was evidently not intended for his +ears, and not wishing to be caught eavesdropping, slipped quietly down +the bridge ladder and went below to the pantry, where the steward set +him to prepare the table for the officers’ supper. Soon afterwards, +leaving the second mate on deck, the captain and Barter came below and +had their meal, and this being concluded Jim went to the cabins to tidy +up for the night. Whilst turning down the second mate’s bed, he saw in a +little bookshelf over the head of the bunk a small, thin book labelled +“Atlas,” and knowing that the officer was on the bridge, and that he +would not be disturbed, he abstracted the book from its resting-place +and turned to the index at the end.</p> + +<p>“Sidra, Gulf of (Africa), 31° O′ N. 19° O′ E.,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_120">{120}</a></span>” he read, and, having +some slight knowledge of geography, he turned to the map of Africa to +ascertain exactly where the place was. It did not take him long, for he +soon found out that the place was on the north coast of Africa, in +Tripoli, and that it lay just to the southward of a town marked on the +map as Bengazi.</p> + +<p>He knew that Italy and Turkey were at war, and he had read, on the rare +occasions when he had looked at a newspaper in the public library, that +fighting was going on in Tripoli. Putting two and two together, +therefore, he came to the conclusion that the <i>Sea Foam</i> had on board a +cargo of rifles and ammunition destined for the Turks, and in this he +was quite correct. Putting the book back in its place, he left the +cabin; and that night, as he lay in his bunk, he pondered over what he +had discovered. The mate’s expression “gun-running” made him feel rather +frightened; for he knew that it was a serious offence for the ships of a +neutral State to supply arms to a belligerent country. If he had known +the true state of affairs he would never have asked for a berth, but as +he had, there was no way out of it, and he meant to see the thing +through. After all, he thought, they could not very well put him in +prison, and the idea of an adventure rather attracted him; so he +determined to make the best of it. While thinking over the situation, he +fell into a dreamless sleep which the violent movement of the ship did +not disturb, and the next morning, when routed out by the steward to +prepare the officers’ breakfast, he felt a very different being to the +miserable youth who had joined the ship twenty-four hours before.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_121">{121}</a></span></p> + +<p>As the ship proceeded down Channel and out into the open Atlantic the +weather steadily improved, and by the time Ushant had been rounded and +the Bay of Biscay reached, there was nothing but a slight north-easterly +swell, which, accompanied as it was by a clear blue sky and a brilliant +sun, caused no inconvenience.</p> + +<p>Nothing beyond the usual round of daily duties occurred to relieve the +monotony of the voyage, and Jim found that, although he had to work hard +while he was at it, he had plenty of leisure. He was having quite a good +time; for, though the captain was inclined to be grumpy occasionally, +neither he nor the officers abused or ill-treated Jim, so, on the whole, +his lot was a happy one. The mate, seeing that he was far above the +ordinary run of boys usually found in small steamers, took a liking to +him from the very outset, and many a time Mr. Barter would go out of his +way to explain things. In this way Jim soon picked up a smattering of +sea-faring knowledge.</p> + +<p>The old steward himself was a walking nautical encyclopædia, for he had +been a seaman before a permanent lameness had forced him to undertake +the lighter duties of steward. He was never tired of spinning yarns, and +Jim never wearied of listening to them.</p> + +<p>The ship steamed southward at ten knots along the coasts of Spain and +Portugal, visible as a blue chain of hills far away to port. The weather +was perfect, and Jim felt that life was well worth living.</p> + +<p>One day, while clearing the table after the officers’ midday meal, he +overheard a conversation between the captain and the mate.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_122">{122}</a></span></p> + +<p>“Barter,” the former said, “I’ve been thinking about that Customs boat. +Do you think they had any notion of where we were going?”</p> + +<p>“They must have had,” replied the other; “they wouldn’t have been so +keen on stopping us, otherwise.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” continued the skipper, “it’s quite possible that if they know +we’re going through the Straits they’ll have wired to Gibraltar to send +out a couple of cruisers or torpedo craft to stop us. How would it be to +paint the ship another colour? This grey’s rather a ‘give away,’ it’s so +uncommon.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we can do that all right, captain. I’ll get the hands on to it the +first thing to-morrow morning; I’ve got plenty of black paint, and we +can slap that over the hull and give her a black funnel with a red band, +or something of the kind.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’ll do. And paint the name out, too; but put in another, +though; it would never do to have none at all.”</p> + +<p>“All right, sir; will <i>Caledonia</i> do?” queried the mate, with a grin.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s all right. We shall be passing through the Straits by +daylight, so make a good job of it.”</p> + +<p>The next morning all the available men were slung over the side with +paint-pots and brushes, and in a short time the grey <i>Sea Foam</i> had been +transformed into the <i>Caledonia</i>, a black ship with a black funnel with +red band.</p> + +<p>Early the next morning Cape Trafalgar was in sight, and a few hours +later the ship had entered the Straits of Gibraltar, keeping well +towards the African shore. She was about half-way through, when right +ahead, and apparently stopped, were<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_123">{123}</a></span> sighted two large cruisers, one +with four funnels, lying directly in the steamer’s track.</p> + +<p>“They’re both Britishers,” exclaimed the mate, who was on watch; “that +four-funnelled chap’s one of the <i>Aboukir</i> class.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder if they’re after us?” asked the skipper, feeling rather +nervous; “lucky we gave her a lick of paint yesterday. Perhaps they +won’t recognise us.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know so much about that!” answered Barter; “these Royal Navy +chaps are pretty spry; I was in the Reserve myself once, and I know +’em.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if they heave us to we’ll hoist the yellow flag and tell them +we’re from Lisbon to Port Said. There’s plague at Lisbon, and they’d +hardly dare board us, the regulations are so strict.”</p> + +<p>The <i>Sea Foam</i> steamed on, and was soon close to the great man-of-war. +No notice had apparently been taken of her, and the skipper and mate +were congratulating themselves that they were not going to be stopped +when the cruiser suddenly fired a blank gun to leeward, and at the same +time a string of signal flags fluttered out from her fore masthead.</p> + +<p>“Hang it,” growled the captain, “there’s no mistaking that!” And as he +spoke he walked to the engine-room telegraph and rang down “Stop!”</p> + +<p>“O.S.C., I.O.X.,” muttered the mate, rapidly turning over the papers of +the signal box to find out the meaning of the flags.</p> + +<p>“Heave to. I wish to communicate,” he said to the captain, when he had +found the place.</p> + +<p>“Hoist the yellow flag at the fore!” shouted<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_124">{124}</a></span> the latter; and even as he +spoke a boat from the man-of-war was half-way across the stretch of +water dividing the two ships.</p> + +<p>“What ship is that?” shouted a midshipman, as the cutter approached.</p> + +<p>“<i>Caledonia</i>; Lisbon to Port Said; general cargo,” answered the captain +in reply.</p> + +<p>As if to verify his statement, the boat pulled under the stern, and +there the officer read the name and port of registry, which, luckily, +had been altered the day previous to “<i>Caledonia</i>, London.”</p> + +<p>“Hope he doesn’t spot our new paint!” ejaculated Barter nervously, as +the boat pulled forward again.</p> + +<p>“All right, sir, I’ll go and report,” shouted the officer, whose +suspicions had apparently not been aroused. “You haven’t by any chance +seen a grey steamer called the <i>Sea Foam</i>, have you?”</p> + +<p>“No, haven’t seen anything of her,” replied the captain, turning his +face to hide his smiles.</p> + +<p>“All right, you can proceed on your voyage,” came the reply.</p> + +<p>“Thank heaven!” exclaimed the skipper, as he put the engine-room +telegraph to full speed ahead, and motioned to the helmsman to resume +his original course; “that’s our third escape! I wonder how many more we +shall have.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve got the whole Italian fleet to dodge yet, sir,” remarked Barter.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards the speed of the <i>Sea Foam</i> was increased to fifteen +knots, for this would bring the ship to her destination about 11 p.m. on +the fourth night after leaving the Straits.</p> + +<p>The time passed without incident, and the last<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_125">{125}</a></span> day of the voyage broke +fine and clear. From daylight the captain and mate were on the bridge +gazing anxiously ahead for the columns of smoke that would betoken the +presence of men-of-war. They had their meals brought up to them by Jim, +and the boy himself could not help feeling his spirits rise as the ship +forged ahead and no warships were seen. The hours passed rapidly, and at +length the sun set in the western horizon in a blaze of scarlet and +orange, but still the <i>Sea Foam</i> steamed along at fifteen knots. All her +lights were extinguished, and there was nothing to proclaim her +whereabouts except the phosphorescent welter churned up by the screw, +and a ruddy glow at the funnel-top.</p> + +<p>The captain and Barter were still keeping their weary vigil on the +bridge, looking ahead through the darkness, when suddenly Jim, who was +on deck, saw a rapidly-moving light about a mile away on the starboard +side of the ship. It was moving fast in an opposite direction to the +steamer. Rushing on to the bridge, he seized Mr. Barter by the arm and +drew his attention to it.</p> + +<p>The mate snatched the binoculars, and after gazing at the light for a +second or two he exclaimed to the captain:</p> + +<p>“There’s a destroyer out there, sir. No, there’s more than one—two, +four; I can count six, sir—steaming very fast in single file.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder if they’ve spotted us?” gasped the captain.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so,” replied the other, “they’re moving away.”</p> + +<p>“Lucky there’s no moon and it’s a dark night!”</p> + +<p>“They must have been keeping a pretty rotten<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_126">{126}</a></span> look out, though,” +rejoined Barter; “Watson, here, spotted them all right.”</p> + +<p>The destroyers vanished in the gloom astern, and the <i>Sea Foam</i> steamed +rapidly on towards her destination. Ten o’clock came, but no more +men-of-war were sighted, and about half an hour later the skipper, +pointing ahead, suddenly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“We’re getting close, Barter; I can see the land ahead and on both bows. +Get the anchor ready, and get a man along with a lead.”</p> + +<p>The dark shadow of the land was now distinctly visible, and, with the +engines eased to “dead slow,” the steamer crept cautiously ahead.</p> + +<p>“And a quarter-nine!” came the long-drawn-out cry from the man with the +lead. “A quarter less eight!” came the next sounding, a minute later.</p> + +<p>The water was shoaling rapidly, and as the land was evidently getting +close the ship was stopped, and the captain hailed the forecastle to let +go the anchor. The rusty monster fell with a splash and a rattle of +cable—the journey was over.</p> + +<p>Going to the end of the bridge, the captain then fired a blue light, and +its appearance was the signal for a chorus of yells a short distance off +on the starboard beam.</p> + +<p>“They’re there all right, then!” he ejaculated; “I arranged with the +fellow in London to be here at eleven o’clock to-night, and we’ve just +done it! Hark at ’em shouting!”</p> + +<p>The howling drew closer, and before long three large Arab dhows stole +into the circle of light and made fast alongside. An officer in Turkish +uniform clambered on board, and going to the bridge he wrung the captain +by the hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_127">{127}</a></span></p> + +<p>“You haf arrived, my friend!” he exclaimed in broken English, “with many +good rifles? Aha! Haf you seen those Italian ships?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we saw ’em all right,” said the skipper, “but they didn’t see us!”</p> + +<p>“That is good!” replied the other. “I haf brought tree dhow, an’ plenty +men. Are you ready to unload now?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, quite ready.” The hatch covers had been removed and the derricks +topped during the afternoon; and, even as he spoke, the winches started +their rattle as the unloading commenced.</p> + +<p>There was no need of concealment now, and every soul in the ship, Jim +and the steward included, worked with a will. Case after case containing +rifles and ammunition was slung over the side into the dhows alongside, +and at length, at three o’clock the following morning, the steamer’s +holds were cleared of her cargo.</p> + +<p>Just as the first signs of dawn appeared in the east the <i>Sea Foam</i> +weighed her anchor and steamed seawards, and soon afterwards the coast +was out of sight, and the vessel was steaming placidly homewards through +a calm sea with no vessels in sight.</p> + +<p class="astt">. . . . . .</p> + +<p>Nothing more remains to be said, except that in due course the ship +arrived in London, where the captain drew the money due to him for the +successful enterprise. Each member of the crew received a substantial +bonus, and Jim, to his surprise, was included in the award.</p> + +<p>“Here you are, my boy,” said the skipper, as he handed him the money. +“You’ve been a good<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_128">{128}</a></span> lad, and you deserve it. I’m chucking the sea now, +but if you are ever stranded, come to me.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir!” answered Jim, with tears of gratitude in his eyes; and +after saying good-bye to the mate and steward, he left the ship for +good. He could not help feeling a pang of regret, for in the short time +he had been on board he had grown fond of the ship and her officers; but +shouldering the bag containing his scanty belongings, he trudged +citywards.</p> + +<p>The money he had received so unexpectedly enabled him to buy a +third-class passage to Australia, where in due time he joined his uncle. +He is now employed on a sheep farm, and is in a fair way to doing well +for himself, but he will never forget his one and only experience of +gun-running in the Mediterranean.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_129">{129}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="VIII">VIII</a><br><br> +THE ESCAPE OF THE <i>SPEEDWELL</i></h2> + +<p class="nind">“<span class="smcap">Gude marnin</span>’ to ye, John Marsh,” croaked old Thomas Wiles, looking over +the side of the little wooden quay and watching the fisherman in the +boat busy with his lines.</p> + +<p>“Marnin’, feyther!” replied Marsh cheerily, looking up at the old man +with a pleasant smile. “What d’ye make o’ th’ weather?”</p> + +<p>“Middlin’ fine, me son,” answered the ancient, taking the pipe out of +his mouth and looking up at the sky. “Middlin’ fine. Sou’-westerly +breeze’ll hold. We’ll have a drap o’ rain, maybe, but nothin’ much, I’m +thinkin’.”</p> + +<p>Wiles, aged eighty, was the oldest man in the village of Bembridge, in +the Isle of Wight, and being an old man-of-war’s man was generally +regarded as the local know-all on all matters nautical. The fishermen of +the place used to flock to the Barleycorn tavern to hear the words of +wisdom which fell from the old seaman’s lips, and though they did +sometimes laugh at him behind his back, and call him an old croaker, it +must be admitted that his prognostications regarding the weather usually +turned out to be correct, and that, more often than not, they took his +advice. He had served in the Navy “way back in th’ ’sixties,” as he +himself called it, and though<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_130">{130}</a></span> it was now 1805, and he was firmly +convinced that “th’ Sarvice was gwine to th’ dawgs; nothin’ like ’twas +when I was in th’ ole <i>Andromeeda</i>,” he never tired of watching the +frigates and line-of-battle ships when they sometimes came to an anchor +in St. Helen’s Roads.</p> + +<p>He watched Marsh for some minutes without speaking.</p> + +<p>“Be ye gwine out this marnin’?” he inquired at length.</p> + +<p>“Yes, feyther,” answered the fisherman with a nod. “Me an’ Tom here,” he +pointed to his fourteen-year-old son, who was hard at work baiting some +lines. “Me an’ Tom has our livin’ t’earn.”</p> + +<p>The old wiseacre on the jetty shook his head in disapproval.</p> + +<p>“Bean’t ye afeerd o’ bein’ copped by them Frenchies?” he asked. “Them +privateers wot got ole Tom Martin t’other day?”</p> + +<p>“Afeerd, feyther,” laughed Marsh. “No, I bean’t afeerd, I reckon, but I +doan’t want to see th’ inside o’ one o’ them prisons. Lor’ bless me, +though, when I wus in the Sarvice along o’ Lard Nelson, we allus said +each man was wuth three on ’em froggies!” He spat over the side to show +his contempt.</p> + +<p>Marsh himself had served in the Navy, but had retired some years before +to eke out a scanty livelihood by fishing, and though his profits were +not large, they had sufficed to keep his wife and two children. Tom, his +eldest son, had been used to his father’s boat for the last four years, +and always accompanied him on his expeditions to his favourite fishing +ground near the Owers shoal off<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_131">{131}</a></span> Selsey Bill, and as the boy had made up +his mind to enter the Navy when he was old enough, there was no doubt +that his knowledge of boat work and his general acquaintance with the +sea would help him to become a prime seaman in His Majesty’s Fleet when +his turn came.</p> + +<p>“Well, me son,” resumed Wiles after a lengthy silence. “Maybe ye ain’t +afeerd on ’em, but mark me words, ye’ll sing a diff’rent tune if they +cops ye an’ claps ye an’ Tom in one o’ them prisons. The grub’s crool +bad!” The old man shook his head knowingly, and stumped off up the jetty +on his way back to the Barleycorn.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt about it that Marsh was running a grave risk, for it +was 1805, and war time, and the Channel swarmed with the enemy’s +privateers. The latter, as a general rule, were luggers varying in size +between fifty and seventy tons, and were used, in time of peace, as +fishing craft. Now, however, as war had taken away their legitimate +vocation, the owners of these <i>chasse-marées</i> had converted them into +privateers by fitting them with small guns and manning them with large +crews armed to the teeth. They were extraordinarily fast, and would +swoop down on any defenceless vessels they came across, and carry them +off from under the very noses of the British frigates and sloops-of-war +stationed in the Channel. Even the merchant ships in the home-coming +convoys, protected though they were by men-of-war, were not safe from +capture, while the hostile luggers would often approach the English +coast in broad daylight and harry the hapless fishing craft within a +mile or two of the shore. The crews would be captured, the prizes<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_132">{132}</a></span> +looted and burnt, and then the <i>chasse-marées</i> would clap on all sail +and make off, trusting to their superior speed to escape. They generally +succeeded in doing so, in spite of the vigilance of the men-of-war, and +the consequence was many English fishermen found themselves in French +prisons, while many more, unwilling to face the risk of losing all they +possessed, were thrown out of employment and stayed ashore with +starvation staring them in the face. Marsh, however, had had good luck +up to date, and had never so much as sighted a privateer, and although +he fully realised the risk he was running in continuing his fishing, he +was not to be put off, in spite of old Wiles and his dismal warnings. +“Needs must where the devil drives,” and his occupation was the only +thing he could rely upon to keep his family and himself from absolute +penury.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards, therefore, the <i>Speedwell</i> had slipped her moorings and +was sailing seawards with the fair south-westerly breeze. She was a +handy little cutter-rigged craft of about five tons, and carried a large +spread of canvas which gave her a good turn of speed in anything like a +wind, and by noon she had reached her destination. The sails were +furled, and the anchor dropped, and after the midday meal father and son +were soon busy fishing with lines.</p> + +<p>The fish were biting well, and by the latter part of the afternoon the +little wooden tank amidships was all but filled with pollack, ling, +whiting, and many other varieties of fish.</p> + +<p>“Are ye thinkin’ o’ goin’ back home this a’ternoon, Dad?” asked Tom, +rebaiting a hook and throwing it overboard.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_133">{133}</a></span></p> + +<p>“No, son, don’t think so,” answered the fisherman. “Fush is bitin’ so +well that I think we’d best put the lines out at sundown, an’ stay out +all night. We’ll up anchor an’ go back home to-morrow marnin’.”</p> + +<p>Tom was not at all averse to the idea, for he had often undergone a +similar experience, and really, in spite of their narrowness, the +lockers in the cabin of the cutter were quite comfortable to sleep upon. +He rather liked the idea of cooking his own supper, too, and he was so +accustomed to the sea that the gentle rolling of the little ship did not +disturb him in the slightest.</p> + +<p>The wind had been lulling all through the afternoon, and towards sunset +it died away completely. Soon afterwards the sun sank to rest in a blaze +of yellow and orange which predicted a breezy day for the morrow, while +the sea presented a glassy shining surface only disturbed by a gentle +swell rolling in from the south-westward. Overhead, in the darkening +blue of the sky, scattered bunches of mares’ tails hung motionless in +the still air, and sitting in the stern sucking at his pipe, +instinctively swaying his body in rhythm to the gentle movement of the +boat, Marsh looked up at them.</p> + +<p>“There’s a fair capful o’ wind about yet,” he remarked pensively. “That +yaller on the ’orizon an’ them mares’ tails shows this calm won’t last.”</p> + +<p>“Will it blow harder than it did to-day, Dad?” asked the boy.</p> + +<p>“No,” returned the fisherman, shaking his head. “<span class="lftspc">’</span>Bout the same, I +reckon. Son,” he added, “ye’d best get th’ night lines laid now, afore +it’s dark. They’re ready in th’ tub forrard.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_134">{134}</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy clambered into the dinghy made fast astern, and sculled off to +do the job. Twenty minutes saw the lines laid, and when Tom returned he +found his father had prepared their supper. After finishing the meal +they hoisted the light on the forestay, and then, as darkness had +fallen, retired to the cabin and were soon stretched out on the lockers +in the little den. No sounds broke the stillness of the night except the +gentle lapping of the water against the side. The cutter rolled a little +on the swell, but the movement did not disturb the slumber of her weary +inmates, and ten minutes later, tired out after their day’s work, they +were both fast asleep.</p> + +<p>There was no such thing as a clock or watch on board the +<i>Speedwell</i>—timepieces in those days were expensive luxuries; but +Marsh, like most seamen, could wake himself at any hour he wanted to, +and at four o’clock the next morning he was on deck. The first gleams of +daylight were just appearing through a heavy mist which overhung the +surface of the water, but true to his prophecy of the night before the +breeze had again risen, and was gaining strength every minute.</p> + +<p>“Rouse out, Tom!” he shouted, going to the hatch leading to the cabin +where the boy was still fast asleep. “Come up and give us a hand to get +th’ mains’l on her. When we’ve done that we’ll get th’ lines in, an’ +start off home!”</p> + +<p>“Coming, Dad!” answered the sleepy Tom, rolling off his narrow locker +and feeling about for his sea-boots, the only portion of his attire he +had discarded on turning in. Within a couple of minutes he had joined +his father above, and after some trouble, for it was still very dark, +they had<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_135">{135}</a></span> hoisted the mainsail, which flapped in the ever-freshening +breeze.</p> + +<p>“Come on, son,” said Marsh, when this operation was finished. “We’d best +weigh th’ lines now.”</p> + +<p>He went aft to haul in the dinghy, but hardly had he taken a couple of +paces when Tom stopped dead. “Ssh!” he whispered, pointing out in the +mist on the port quarter.</p> + +<p>“What ails ’e, son?” asked his father in a low undertone.</p> + +<p>“Ssh!” hissed the lad, cocking his ear. “I heered somethin’ over there.”</p> + +<p>“What wus it?” asked Marsh.</p> + +<p>The answer was not long in coming, for hardly were the words out of his +mouth when the unmistakable creaking of blocks and the sound of +conversation broke the stillness of the morning.</p> + +<p>They looked intently in the direction from which the noises came, but so +far nothing could be seen, but every instant the light was getting +stronger, and the mist was gradually dispersing as the breeze freshened. +The voices came nearer and nearer, and then the fisherman suddenly felt +his heart leap into his mouth.</p> + +<p>“Tom, they’re Frenchies!” he gasped. “Hark to their chatterin’! They’ll +have heard this mains’l o’ our’n slattin’ in th’ wind!”</p> + +<p>“What ’ud we best do, Dad?” queried the boy nervously, for he had never +seen an enemy at close quarters, and did not exactly relish the idea of +meeting one.</p> + +<p>“Go down to th’ cabin, son,” ordered the father, “an’ get th’ axe. We’ll +have to cut the cable!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_136">{136}</a></span></p> + +<p>“What about th’ lines?”</p> + +<p>“Let ’em go,” said the man in an undertone, gazing anxiously through the +murk. “Go below an’ fetch th’ axe. Doan’t ’e make any noise, now!”</p> + +<p>The boy did as he was told, and creeping down the ladder soon reappeared +with the weapon, which he handed to his father.</p> + +<p>“Look ’e here, lad,” whispered Marsh. “Take th’ helm. I’m going forrard +to cut th’ cable. We’ll get th’ fores’l up after.”</p> + +<p>Louder and louder became the sounds, and then a dark blurred shape began +to slide out of the mist. It was approaching fast, whatever it was, and +creeping forward the fisherman stood ready in the bows with his axe +poised.</p> + +<p>Tom jammed the tiller over, and as the <i>Speedwell’s</i> bows began to pay +off, his father brought the broad-bladed weapon down on the taut cable +with a crunch which completely severed it.</p> + +<p>But it was too late, for they had been seen, and before the little craft +had gathered way the blurred outline of the mast astern had resolved +itself into the shape of one of the dreaded luggers, and at the same +instant a loud shout rang out from her direction. Marsh, having freed +the cutter, jumped to the fore halliards and hoisted the foresail, and +then clambered aft into the stern.</p> + +<p>“She must ha’ seen us!” he remarked breathlessly, noticing that the +lugger had altered her course slightly.</p> + +<p>“Must have,” replied Tom, feeling very anxious. “How fur off is she?”</p> + +<p>“Not more’n a hundred yards,” said his father.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_137">{137}</a></span> “I doan’t think she’s +comin’ up, though,” he added.</p> + +<p>The <i>Speedwell</i>, with her mainsail and foresail set, was apparently +holding her own, for the shadow behind her did not become more distinct. +Presently she was dashing along with her lee gunwale perilously near the +water’s edge, but the lugger did not seem to be gaining, and for a +moment Marsh thought he still had a chance of escaping.</p> + +<p>Presently they ran out of the fog bank into clear daylight, for the sun +had now risen, but looking astern they soon saw the bowsprit and then +the black hull and three tanned lugsails of the <i>chasse-marée</i> following +dead in their wake.</p> + +<p>“I’m afeerd we’re collared this time, Tom!” exclaimed Marsh, as he +watched the lugger dashing along with the spray smoking over her weather +gunwale. “Yon’s a faster craft than our’n!”</p> + +<p>He was right, for now the stranger was undoubtedly closing, and a few +seconds later a ruffianly-looking individual, clad in a blue jersey and +a long red cap, clambered forward on board the lugger and shouted +something in his own language. His words could not be heard on account +of the wind, but there was no mistaking his gestures. He was telling the +<i>Speedwell</i> to heave to, or to take the consequences.</p> + +<p>“Heave to be jiggered!” exclaimed Marsh indignantly, shaking his fist at +his pursuer. “I’m not a-goin’ to pipe down to a set o’ pirates like +that! Look e’ here, son, we must get th’ tops’l on her, it’ll give us a +bit more speed. Lord knows we’ll want it,” he added, with an +apprehensive glance astern.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_138">{138}</a></span></p> + +<p>No sooner said than done, and after a certain amount of difficulty, for +the breeze was fresh, they succeeded in getting the gaff topsail above +the mainsail. Feeling the extra canvas the cutter leapt through the +water faster than before, but they had lost ground during the manœuvre, +and the Frenchman was now barely fifty yards astern.</p> + +<p>It could now be seen that she carried four small guns each side, while +crowded on her decks were over thirty armed men. Several of them were +clustered in the bows, and the morning sun could be seen glinting on the +barrels of muskets, and before long another man rose to his feet and +hailed, in broken English this time, for the <i>Speedwell</i> to heave to and +surrender.</p> + +<p>Marsh shook his fist in reply, but hardly had he done so when a ragged +volley of musketry broke out from the lugger. Some of the bullets came +perilously close, while one scored a long weal in the wood of the +bulwark close to which Tom was standing. He ducked involuntarily, a +thing which many a brave man has done the first time he has been under +fire.</p> + +<p>“Lie down flat on th’ deck, me son,” said his father, with a smile on +his weather-beaten face. “There ain’t no call for ye to get exposin’ +yerself.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Dad,” said the boy. “But can’t we do anythin’ to go a bit +faster? She’s gainin’ on us!”</p> + +<p>“I dunno,” answered Marsh. “P’raps if we cut away th’ boat astern it’ll +help us along a bit. Get th’ axe an’ cut her adrift!”</p> + +<p>Tom cut the dinghy free, and as she was floating astern another volley +rang out from the lugger. This time the muskets had been better aimed, +for<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_139">{139}</a></span> the bullets hummed through the air closer to the cutter’s deck, but +still no damage was done.</p> + +<p>“I wish we had a musket or two to fire on th’ swabs!” growled Marsh.</p> + +<p>But his wish was useless, for beyond the axe the cutter had no weapons +of any kind on board, and all the time the <i>chasse-marée</i> drew closer +and closer. It was lucky she could not use her guns, for a discharge +from them would have blown the Englishman out of the water; but even as +it was, affairs were bad enough, for the lugger’s crew had opened up an +independent fire, and the range was so short that the flying missiles +were coming closer and closer every second.</p> + +<p>They lay flat on the deck, where they were protected to some extent by +the low bulwarks; but though pursuer and pursued were both travelling +fast, the lugger was coming up hand over fist. Presently she was no more +than twenty yards astern, and as a sudden gust heeled the <i>Speedwell</i> +over Marsh rose to his knees to get a better purchase on the tiller. The +moment he did so more shots came from the lugger, and to Tom’s horror he +suddenly saw his father relinquish his hold on the helm and clap a hand +to his left shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Dad! Dad!” he cried. “Have they hit ye?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, th’ frog-eatin’ pirates!” groaned the fisherman, with the blood +trickling down his arm. “Lucky ’tis only through th’ shoulder. Take th’ +tiller, son,” he added, grinding his teeth in pain.</p> + +<p>Tom, crouching low, steered the boat as best he could while sheltering +himself from the flying bullets. He could do nothing to help his father, +who had sunk to the deck more or less unconscious<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_140">{140}</a></span> from the pain of his +wound, for he had his work cut out in keeping the cutter on a steady +course. But all the time the <i>chasse-marée</i> was drawing closer, and at +last, glancing astern, the boy saw her short bowsprit barely ten yards +off the <i>Speedwell’s</i> quarter.</p> + +<p>For a moment his heart failed him, for the lugger was sailing close to +the wind and evidently intended to run up on the cutter’s weather +quarter and then board, for several red-capped ruffians, armed with +cutlasses and pistols, were standing by her foremast, ready to jump the +moment the vessels touched.</p> + +<p>Tom glanced at his father, undecided what to do, but then he was +suddenly struck by a brilliant idea, and putting all his weight on the +tiller jammed it hard down. The <i>Speedwell’s</i> head flew round into the +wind with a rattling of ropes and a slapping of canvas, but though the +wrench when the heavy boom came over nearly carried away the mast, the +rigging held, and leaving the boat to steer herself for a minute, the +boy jumped forward to secure the fore sheet. Muskets and pistols were +fired at him, but he accomplished it in safety, and clambering aft again +took his place at the helm.</p> + +<p>Putting about a cutter-rigged craft like the <i>Speedwell</i> was an easy +manœuvre enough, but with the lugger, who had to lower and dip her three +lugsails every time she tacked it was by no means so simple. The +Frenchmen, moreover, were not expecting Tom’s jibe, and dashed on, with +her crew yelling with mad excitement.</p> + +<p>Though the <i>Speedwell</i> was now heading out to sea with her stern +pointing at the lugger’s broadside, the guns of the latter were not +fired. Prob<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_141">{141}</a></span>ably they were not loaded, and lucky it was that they were +not.</p> + +<p>Soon the boy heard the shouts and the slatting of canvas as the +<i>chasse-marée</i> went about, but by the time she was in pursuit again the +handy little cutter had gained at least two hundred yards. Tom’s course, +however, was now carrying him out into the English Channel, while the +Isle of Wight, still shrouded in a pall of mist, was somewhere away on +his port quarter. He determined, nevertheless, to wait until his pursuer +should be close before attempting to go about again.</p> + +<p>Presently the fisherman, noticing a change in the movement, opened his +eyes and looked up.</p> + +<p>“What have ye done, lad?” he asked feebly.</p> + +<p>Tom explained.</p> + +<p>“Good lad!” exclaimed his father. “If ye keep on goin’ about every time +she comes alongside o’ us, p’raps we’ll weather her arter all. How fur +astarn is she now?”</p> + +<p>“<span class="lftspc">’</span>Bout two hundred yards,” said the boy, with a glance over his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>The lugger, however, was still gaining, and within twenty minutes was +close astern again. As before, she approached on the cutter’s weather +quarter, her men standing by ready to board, while occasional musket +shots whistled over Tom’s head.</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer she came, until Marsh, thinking his son was waiting +too long, raised himself on his uninjured arm.</p> + +<p>“Now’s yer time, son!” he shouted, seeing the <i>chasse-marée’s</i> bowsprit +getting nearer and nearer. “I’ll take the tiller, jump forrard an’ stan’ +by th’ fore sheet.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_142">{142}</a></span></p> + +<p>He reached out his uninjured hand and jammed the helm hard down, and +once more the <i>Speedwell</i> came up head to wind with her canvas flapping +in the breeze. The lugger’s bowsprit was perilously close, almost +overlapping the cutter’s quarter, but Tom, who was just about to dash +forward to readjust the fore sheet, was suddenly seized with a brilliant +inspiration. He seized the axe and made a wild slash at the lashing +securing the lugger’s jib to the end of her bowsprit, now within easy +reach. It was done on the spur of the moment, but his eye was sure, and +the keen edge of his weapon bit through the tough rope.</p> + +<p>The Frenchmen were instantly thrown into utter confusion. The jib, no +longer stayed forward, flew aft in a cloud of canvas and precipitated +two red-capped Frenchmen into the water, while the man at the helm, +seeing his companions struggling in the sea, relinquished his hold on +the wheel, and endeavoured to save them. The lugger promptly came up +into the wind with her sails thrashing against her masts; the air became +blue with “Sacrés!” and wild shouts of rage, and in spite of his danger +Tom could not help chuckling. It was fully ten minutes before order was +restored on board the foreigner, and by the time she had repaired her +damage, picked up her men, and was once more in chase of her nimble +quarry, the latter was over a mile ahead.</p> + +<p>About half a mile beyond the <i>Speedwell</i> was a bank of low-lying fog, +and Tom was looking at it and wondering whether or not it would hide him +from his pursuer, when he heard the sullen boom of a gun from the +southward. At first he could see nothing to account for it, but +presently</p> + +<div class="figcenter" id="ill_007"> +<a href="images/i_142.jpg"> +<img src="images/i_142.jpg" width="348" height="550" alt=""></a> +<br> +<span class="caption">“He seized the axe and made a wild slash.”<br><br> +<i>To face <a href="#page_142">page 142</a></i><br> +</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_143">{143}</a></span></p> + +<p class="nind">he noticed the dim shape of a large ship emerging out of a pall of mist +about two miles away to port.</p> + +<p>The lugger had seen the stranger, for she had altered her course and was +flying off to seaward. The big ship gradually sailed into view, and once +in the sunlight the boy saw from her towering canvas and black and +yellow chequered sides that she was a man-of-war.</p> + +<p>“We’re saved!” he yelled excitedly, as a puff of smoke left the ship’s +side, and a round shot splashed into the water midway between her and +the <i>chasse-marée</i>.</p> + +<p>“What’s that, son?” queried Marsh, sitting up. “What did yer sing out?”</p> + +<p>“There’s a big ship firing at the Frenchie!” repeated the boy +delightedly.</p> + +<p>The fisherman looked over the gunwale.</p> + +<p>“Snakes!” he exclaimed an instant later. “Yon’s th’ <i>Amazon</i>. See the +White Ensun at her peak!”</p> + +<p>The frigate fired again, but once more the shot pitched short, and from +the way the lugger was winging seaward it seemed that she was travelling +faster than the man-of-war, and that she would make good her escape +after all.</p> + +<p>“Set yer royals! Set yer royals!” muttered Marsh, seeing that the +frigate was under top-gallant sails. “You won’t catch her else! Ah!” he +exclaimed an instant later, when, as if in answer to his suggestion, +three clouds of canvas descended simultaneously on the man-of-war’s +masts. “That’s better, capten!”</p> + +<p>The light sails were sheeted home and hoisted, but even with their +assistance the frigate was no match for her nimble quarry.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_144">{144}</a></span></p> + +<p>“There she goes again!” sang out Tom, as another tongue of red flame and +a cloud of white smoke leapt out from the man-of-war’s side. “Hurrah!” +he yelled, waving his hat in his excitement. “That’s done it!”</p> + +<p>It had, for the foremast of the <i>chasse-marée</i> had suddenly toppled +overboard with its sail. It was a lucky shot, for the range was great, +but the thirty-two pound ball had shorn off the mast close to the deck, +and had effectually stopped the lugger’s progress, though she still +strove to escape with the sails on her fore and main masts.</p> + +<p>“Won’t do, me son,” murmured the fisherman, looking at her. “Yer copped +all right!”</p> + +<p>He was perfectly correct, for the <i>Amazon</i> was now sailing two feet to +her one, and ten minutes later had hove to close alongside the +Frenchman. They saw the smoke of a volley of musketry; but it was the +enemy’s last effort, for a minute or two later the tricolour fluttered +down from her peak. She had surrendered.</p> + +<p>The <i>Speedwell</i> still held on her course for Bembridge, and when the +frigate had transferred her prisoners she took her crippled prize in +tow, and steered up towards Spithead. She came booming along at a great +speed, far faster than the cutter, and half an hour later the two +vessels were close alongside.</p> + +<p>Tom took off his hat and cheered as she passed; an answering yell came +back from the man-of-war’s men, and shortly afterwards an officer with a +speaking trumpet jumped up on to the white hammock cloths and stood +balancing himself with one arm hooked round a backstay.</p> + +<p>“Cutter, ahoy!” he bellowed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_145">{145}</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom waved his hand in reply.</p> + +<p>“We’ve captured the <i>Trois Sœurs</i> of Saint Malo. Eight guns and forty +men. She very nearly had you! D’you want any help?”</p> + +<p>“Tell ’em no,” growled Marsh; “this prick o’ mine can wait till we get +back home.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” shouted the boy.</p> + +<p>“Right!” came back the answer. “What’s the name of the cutter and her +owner?”</p> + +<p>“The <i>Speedwell</i> of Bembridge, sir,” replied Tom. “John Marsh, owner!”</p> + +<p>“Right! Good-bye! Glad to have been able to help you!” The frigate drove +ahead out of earshot, and the figure in blue and gold leapt down on +deck.</p> + +<p>A couple of hours later the <i>Speedwell</i> arrived at Bembridge, and the +little town, as may well be imagined, was thrown into a state of frantic +excitement when the story of her narrow escape became public property.</p> + +<p>Tom became a sort of public hero, and one day about a fortnight later, +when his father was convalescent, for the bullet had broken no bones, +they were once more at work in the cutter moored up alongside the jetty.</p> + +<p>“What did I tell ’e, John Marsh?” said the well-known voice of old Wiles +from above. “Didn’t I tell ’e as ’ow th’ Frenchies was cruisin’ around?”</p> + +<p>“Aye, feyther,” replied the fisherman, busy putting patches in the sails +through which the French bullets had driven holes. “But we wusn’t +copped, all th’ same!”</p> + +<p>“It wurn’t none o’ yer fault, then,” retorted the old gentleman. “If it +’adn’t bin fur that son<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_146">{146}</a></span> o’ yourn ye’d a’ tasted t’inside of a French +gaol. I knows!” he concluded, wagging his head wisely.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, feyther,” laughed John Marsh. “We wusn’t copped, an’ Tom +did save th’ <i>Speedwell</i>. Didn’t ’e, son?” he added, putting his hand on +the boy’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>Tom merely blushed and felt a fool.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_147">{147}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="IX">IX</a><br><br> +THE LUCK OF THE <i>TAVY</i></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">It</span> was a dirty night; there was no possible mistake about that, and +Sub-Lieutenant Patrick Munro, R.N., of H.M. T.B.D. <i>Tavy</i>, crouching for +shelter behind the canvas weather screens on the bridge, felt supremely +miserable.</p> + +<p>For one thing, he was rather seasick, for the destroyer, well out in +mid-Channel, was punching her way westward in the teeth of a rapidly +rising south-westerly gale. No sailor likes a gale; those in destroyers +hate them.</p> + +<p>The sea was big, and every now and then as the <i>Tavy</i> plunged her nose +into the heart of an advancing wave, masses of solid water came pouring +over the forecastle and sheets of spray went flying high over the +bridge.</p> + +<p>The night was very dark and the sky overcast. The wind cut like a knife, +and in spite of his oilskins, sou’-wester, sea-boots, and a profusion of +woollen mufflers, the sub was nearly wet through and chilled to the very +marrow.</p> + +<p>He was keeping the middle watch—midnight till 4 a.m., and now, at 1.30, +he had still another two and a half hours before he would be relieved by +the gunner and could retire to the warm bunk in his cabin.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_148">{148}</a></span></p> + +<p>Even then it seemed doubtful if he would get any sleep, for the <i>Tavy</i> +rolled and pitched abominably. Moreover, at odd moments she had a +playful habit of throwing her stern high into the air on top of a wave +and of shaking it like a dog’s tail. It was disconcerting, to say the +least of it.</p> + +<p>The destroyer was by herself, and not a solitary gleam of light was in +sight anywhere. Somewhere over the horizon to the northward lay the +south coast of England; but as it was war time all shore lights had long +since been extinguished. They afforded too good a guide to hostile +submarines.</p> + +<p>The war had been in progress for well over eighteen months at the time +of which we write, and neither the <i>Tavy</i> nor her sub-lieutenant had +seen a shot fired in anger. They had come across plenty of mines, +floating and otherwise, and on one occasion had seen a merchant ship +blown up and sunk and had rescued her crew.</p> + +<p>Once they had sighted a Zeppelin, miles away on the horizon until it +looked like an overgrown, animated sausage; while many, many times they +had been sent to sea to assist in “strafing” hostile submarines. But +they had never “strafed” any, had never fired a gun or a torpedo in real +earnest; whereat the hearts of all the officers and men had grown sick, +and they envied those of their comrades who had been lucky enough to be +in action in the Dardanelles or North Sea.</p> + +<p>The weather had grown steadily worse as the night wore on. They had been +steaming twenty knots to start with, but on account of the sea, had had +to ease down first to fifteen, and then to twelve, lest the masses of +heavy water coming<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_149">{149}</a></span> over the bows should strain the ship and carry +things away.</p> + +<p>The lieutenant in command, Travers, was vainly endeavouring to get a +little sleep on the cushioned locker in the charthouse underneath the +bridge. He had been on deck till 12.30 a.m., and his last orders to +Munro were to the effect that he was to be called at four o’clock or if +any lights were sighted.</p> + +<p>The time wore on, and towards two o’clock, as the sub was beginning to +feel a little better and was wondering whether he were bold enough to +manage some cocoa from his vacuum flask, he heard the signalman on watch +utter a sudden exclamation.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I thought I saw a flash o’ some kind on the ’orizon a little on the +port bow, sir!” the man replied excitedly, peering in the direction +named.</p> + +<p>“What sort of flash?”</p> + +<p>“It looked like a gun, sir.”</p> + +<p>They both gazed anxiously out over the water, dodging the sheets of +spray as they came flying over the bows, but not a thing was visible.</p> + +<p>“If it had been a gun,” the sub pointed out at last, “surely we should +have heard it? The place where you thought you saw the flash is almost +dead to wind’ard.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t rightly know, sir,” the signalman answered. “Maybe we’d not +hear it if it was a small gun.”</p> + +<p>Hardly had he spoken when a sharp spurt of ruby flame broke out from the +darkness right ahead. It was unmistakably the flash of a gun, apparently +about five miles away, and the sub<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_150">{150}</a></span> strained his ears for the report. He +heard nothing except the wash of the breaking seas.</p> + +<p>But an instant later the fiery trail of a rocket cleft the air in +exactly the same spot. It rose in a curve, and finally burst in a shower +of stars which seemed to illuminate the sea for miles round.</p> + +<p>The glare died away, but not before he had caught a fleeting glimpse of +the dark shape of a vessel. She carried no lights of any kind, so far as +he could see, and what sort of craft she was he could not determine. But +she was a ship of some kind, he could swear to that.</p> + +<p>“Signalman, go and tell the captain!” he ordered excitedly. “Messenger, +warn the guns’ crews to stand by!”</p> + +<p>The two men departed on their respective errands.</p> + +<p>Travers was on the bridge in less than five seconds, and when the sub +had told him what he had seen he went to the engine-room telegraph and +increased the revolutions of the engines to fifteen knots.</p> + +<p>“I’ll shove her on at fifteen,” he remarked. “Can’t go more than that in +this sea. By the way, how far off did you say she was?”</p> + +<p>“About five miles, sir,” the sub and signalman said together.</p> + +<p>“Right,” nodded the skipper. “In twenty minutes we should be up to her, +whoever she is. Sub, have the men warned, and get the guns and torpedo +tubes manned. I don’t expect for an instant she’s anything but an +innocent tramp, but we’d better be ready. These Huns are up to all sorts +of dodges, foul and otherwise.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" id="ill_008"> +<a href="images/i_150.jpg"> +<img src="images/i_150.jpg" width="550" height="400" alt=""></a> +<br> +<span class="caption">“The glare died away, but not before we had caught a +fleeting glimpse of the dark shape of a vessel.”<br><br> +<i>See <a href="#page_150">page 150</a></i><br> +</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_151">{151}</a></span></p> + +<p>“But what about the gun flashes, sir?” the sub-lieutenant queried.</p> + +<p>“M’yes,” said Travers slowly. “The flashes certainly complicate matters. +I don’t expect people go blazing off guns in the middle of the night for +the good of their health. Someone must be pretty scared, I should think. +However, have everything ready.”</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, sir.”</p> + +<p>The men, sleeping in their clothes, as was their habit at sea, came +tumbling up, but less than thirty seconds later there was another +development when the wireless operator clambered on to the bridge.</p> + +<p>“I wants th’ captain!” he exclaimed, ducking his head as a whiff of +spray came rattling against the weather screens, like a volley of small +shot.</p> + +<p>“Here I am,” said Travers. “What’s the matter?”</p> + +<p>“About a minute ago, sir, I heard a ship making S.O.S. by wireless! She +made it twice, and then suddenly stopped! There’s somethin’ else makin’ +signals, too, but I can’t make head nor tail o’ what she’s sayin’! +There’s somethin’ happenin’, sir?” He seemed very excited.</p> + +<p>“Phew!” whistled the skipper joyfully. “Don’t say we’re going to have a +run for our money at last! How far off d’you think the signals came +from, Sparks?”</p> + +<p>“They were comin’ in strong, sir. I should say a matter o’ ten mile or +less.”</p> + +<p>“Right. Go down and keep your ears glued to your receivers, and if you +hear any more, let me know at once. By George, sub!” he added, rubbing +his hands and turning to Munro. “There<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_152">{152}</a></span> appears to be dirty work going +on somewhere, eh?”</p> + +<p>“There does, sir,” the sub agreed.</p> + +<p>The time seemed to pass very slowly as the <i>Tavy</i> forged ahead. Five +minutes passed ... ten minutes ... a quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>“We ought to be barely a mile off her by now if she’s stationary!” +murmured Travers disappointedly. “But I’m blowed if I can see a sign of +anything!”</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes ... twenty-five minutes. Still nothing in sight.</p> + +<p>The skipper growled something under his breath.</p> + +<p>“Where on earth’s she got to?” he exclaimed. “Shove her on at seventeen, +sub. I think she’ll stand it.” He was getting impatient.</p> + +<p>Munro turned the handle of the telegraph until the dial showed the +requisite number of revolutions.</p> + +<p>The destroyer moved on, making heavier weather of it as she gathered +speed, but it was not until thirty-five minutes had elapsed that the +lieutenant made a muffled remark, wiped his binoculars carefully, and +applied them to his eyes.</p> + +<p>“I’ve spotted her!” he cried. “She seems to be steering to the +south-west’ard, and we’re overhauling her pretty fast! Starboard a +little, cox’n! Steady so!”</p> + +<p>Before very long the dark hull of the stranger was visible with the +naked eye. She seemed a fairly large ship, and was apparently about a +couple of miles off and steaming twelve knots. The <i>Tavy</i> was gaining +fast.</p> + +<p>“Make a signal telling her to stop!” Travers ordered. “Then ask her name +and where she’s bound.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_153">{153}</a></span></p> + +<p>The signalman pressed the key of his flashing lamp in the longs and +shorts of the Morse code. He did it for quite ten minutes without +stopping, but no reply was forthcoming. At the end of this time the two +ships were barely a mile apart, and unless the steamer, now plainly +visible as a craft with one straight funnel and two masts, was keeping +an extremely bad look out, she must have seen the destroyer’s signals. +But no, nothing happened.</p> + +<p>“These chaps deserve to be sunk!” Travers grunted disgustedly. “I’ll put +a shot across her bows; that’ll wake her up!”</p> + +<p>He leant over the bridge rail and gave the necessary orders to the men +at the gun below.</p> + +<p>As the weapon was discharged there came a brilliant flash and a loud +report, and presently the plugged shell pitched into the water several +hundred yards ahead of the steamer.</p> + +<p>It was a summons she could not afford to neglect, and putting her helm +over, she turned round in her tracks and steered straight for the +destroyer.</p> + +<p>“Tell her to stop!” Travers ordered again, noticing that she was still +moving through the water and approaching fast.</p> + +<p>Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the fun began.</p> + +<p>The steamer sheered abruptly to port, dense clouds of black smoke +pouring from her funnel as she increased speed, and then, when she was +barely half a mile off, the brilliant red flash of a gun broke out from +her side.</p> + +<p>Those on board the destroyer heard the report, and a shell screamed +through the air like an<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_154">{154}</a></span> infuriated demon and raised its spray fountain +some distance beyond them. Before it had pitched, other gun flashes were +sparkling up and down the stranger’s side. She was a merchant ship from +her build and appearance, but was evidently powerfully armed. She was +firing furiously.</p> + +<p>The attack was quite unexpected, but the <i>Tavy</i> was not unprepared.</p> + +<p>“Open fire on her!” Travers yelled hoarsely, dashing to the telegraphs +and jamming them over to “Full speed.” “Sub, I’m going to run past her! +Nip down on deck and stand by to fire the foremost tube when your sights +come on!”</p> + +<p>The <i>Tavy’s</i> guns roared out in reply, and albeit the violent motion of +the ship and the water breaking on board made the shooting rather wild, +the shells seemed to be pitching somewhere near the target.</p> + +<p>The steamer still fired rapidly, until the air was full of an awful, +horrible whining; but at first her shooting was not too good. Perhaps +the destroyer offered a very small target, or perhaps the stranger’s +guns’ crews were not very expert; at any rate, most of the projectiles +seemed to be falling harmlessly into the sea about two hundred yards +beyond and astern of the <i>Tavy</i>.</p> + +<p>The whole affair was over in less time than it takes to read a +description of it. The ships were approaching each other fast on +parallel and opposite courses, and would pass at a distance of about +eight hundred yards.</p> + +<p>The hostile shells began to fall closer. Travers heard a violent +explosion from aft, and glancing round, saw the lurid flame of a +detonation close by the after funnel. Someone screamed, and then<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_155">{155}</a></span> the +air seemed full of flying, whistling splinters. The ship had evidently +been damaged, for her speed dropped fast. But she still moved through +the water.</p> + +<p>Another shell, falling in the water about twenty yards short, raised a +gigantic spray column which fell on deck and drenched every soul on the +bridge and forecastle. It then ricochetted over the bridge, passing so +close that the air disturbance whisked the cap off Travers’ head and +carried it neatly overboard.</p> + +<p>But in another instant the sights of the foremost torpedo tube came on, +and the sub pulled a lever.</p> + +<p>The torpedo leapt out of its tube like a great silver fish and landed in +the water with a splash. The stranger evidently saw it fired, for she +circled round to avoid it with her guns still firing heavily.</p> + +<p>Another hostile shell, bursting in the water, sent a number of fragments +whizzing across the destroyer’s forecastle. Two men of the foremost +gun’s crew were hit, and dropped to the deck, but the others, pushing +them aside, went on loading and firing, loading and firing, as fast as +they could.</p> + +<p>The stranger, at very close range, offered an enormous target, and the +destroyer’s weapons, small though they were, could hardly miss her. +Shell after shell drove home, for they could see the brilliant flashes +of the explosions as they struck and burst. The <i>Tavy’s</i> guns were +smaller than those of her opponent, but the latter was enduring terrible +punishment, and her fire was weakening rapidly.</p> + +<p>Then, quite suddenly, a great column of water<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_156">{156}</a></span> mingled with smoke and +flame, leapt into the air at the steamer’s side. There came the awful, +shattering roar of a heavy explosion. The torpedo had gone home.</p> + +<p>When the turmoil died away, she had ceased firing. The torpedo must have +struck her forward, for her bows were deep in the water and her stem was +high in the air, with the propellers still revolving slowly. She seemed +to be sinking fast.</p> + +<p>Travers was still staring at her speechless, when the sub came on to the +bridge chuckling with glee.</p> + +<p>“I got her!” he shouted excitedly, pointing at the sinking ship. “By +gum—I got her!”</p> + +<p>The skipper said nothing. He had an awful feeling at the back of his +mind that perhaps he might have sunk a British ship.</p> + +<p>She had fired on him first, it is true, but would that absolve him from +sinking her if she did turn out to be British?</p> + +<p class="astt">. . . . . .</p> + +<p>The <i>Tavy</i> had five men killed outright by the shell explosion aft, and +another two wounded at the foremost gun. She was leaking and badly +damaged, too, for when the engineer officer came on to the bridge, a +little later, he reported that one boiler was hopelessly out of action, +that the starboard engine was damaged and could not be used, and that +one shell, penetrating the side below the waterline in the stern without +bursting, had drilled a hole through which several compartments had been +flooded. However, he added cheerfully, the hole had been plugged +temporarily, and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_157">{157}</a></span> ship was in no danger, while she could steam at +ten knots with her other engine.</p> + +<p>The stranger’s bows, meanwhile, were under water, and she was sinking +fast by the head. Men aboard her could be seen lowering boats, and +circling round, the <i>Tavy</i> approached to render what assistance she +could.</p> + +<p>But before she reached the spot, the steamer flung her stern high into +the air. She hung poised for a few seconds, and then, amidst a cloud of +steam and smoke, and with the muffled roar of collapsing bulkheads, +slowly disappeared from view as if sucked down by a gigantic magnet.</p> + +<p>The destroyer approached the scene and stopped her engines. The sea was +covered with wreckage and a film of oil which prevented the waves from +breaking, and switching on her searchlight, the <i>Tavy</i> swept the water +for any signs of survivors. One or two were seen, the whaler was +lowered, and after a prolonged search and with no little risk, one +officer and twenty men, some of them badly wounded, were rescued. All +the remainder had gone to their fate.</p> + +<p>Travers waited anxiously. Suppose she were a British ship after all? +Suppose he had been responsible for the drowning of some of his own +countrymen?</p> + +<p>But, no! The sub, who had been superintending the embarkation of the +survivors, came on to the bridge soon afterwards. He was half beside +himself with excitement.</p> + +<p>“She was the German auxiliary cruiser <i>Pelikan</i>, sir!” he almost +shouted.</p> + +<p>“The <i>Pelikan</i>!” exclaimed Travers, a wave of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_158">{158}</a></span> thankfulness surging +through his heart. “Are you quite certain, man?”</p> + +<p>“Absolutely, sir. I got it from one of our—er—prisoners! You remember +those flashes we saw?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she was sinking a British steamer!”</p> + +<p>“A British steamer!” echoed the skipper. “Did they pick up any of her +men?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” the sub-lieutenant replied venomously. “They didn’t. They +left ’em to sink or swim! Said the weather was too bad to lower boats!”</p> + +<p>“Too bad for their boats when we could lower our whaler!” cried Travers, +clenching his fists in rage. “The wretched cowards! I’m glad we had our +revenge and sent a few of ’em under! I’d like to shove the survivors +overboard after ’em, but suppose I can’t, worse luck! Is someone looking +after ’em?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Munro with a grin. “At present they’re sitting round the +galley fire drinking hot Bovril!”</p> + +<p>“We’re a jolly sight too soft-hearted!” Travers retorted bitterly.</p> + +<p class="astt">. . . . . .</p> + +<p>Some fifteen hours later the <i>Tavy</i>, minus her after funnel and looking +very battered and war-worn, limped into a certain port. The news of her +exploit had already been transmitted by wireless, and when she steamed +slowly up the harbour on her way to the dockyard, the crews of all the +other ships present thronged on deck and cheered themselves hoarse.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_159">{159}</a></span></p> + +<p>The next day a brief announcement from the Admiralty appeared in the +morning papers:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>On the morning of Thursday last the German armed steamer <i>Pelikan</i>, +which has lately been responsible for the sinking of several +British steamers on the Atlantic trade routes, was encountered in +the English Channel by H.M. destroyer <i>Tavy</i> (Lieutenant Robert H. +Travers, R.N.). After a brief but spirited engagement, the enemy +was sunk by a torpedo. One officer and twenty men, three of whom +have since succumbed to their injuries, were rescued. Our losses +were very slight.</p></div> + +<p class="fint"> +PRINTED BY<br> +WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD.<br> +PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND<br> +</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3><a id="FOOTNOTES"></a>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Nakhuda, i.e. the native captain of a dhow.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Coir rope has the advantage of floating, though it has only +one-third of the strength of hemp rope of the same diameter.</p></div></div> + +<hr class="full"> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77262 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77262-h/images/cover.jpg b/77262-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5bde1ca --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/77262-h/images/frontis.jpg b/77262-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e9df62 --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/77262-h/images/i_020.jpg b/77262-h/images/i_020.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3cb1d29 --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/images/i_020.jpg diff --git a/77262-h/images/i_047.jpg b/77262-h/images/i_047.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..21a918d --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/images/i_047.jpg diff --git a/77262-h/images/i_057.jpg b/77262-h/images/i_057.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..46f4945 --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/images/i_057.jpg diff --git a/77262-h/images/i_077.jpg b/77262-h/images/i_077.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..abc026b --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/images/i_077.jpg diff --git a/77262-h/images/i_089.jpg b/77262-h/images/i_089.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf122ad --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/images/i_089.jpg diff --git a/77262-h/images/i_142.jpg b/77262-h/images/i_142.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..96b7ed1 --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/images/i_142.jpg diff --git a/77262-h/images/i_150.jpg b/77262-h/images/i_150.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5319a1c --- /dev/null +++ b/77262-h/images/i_150.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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