W.H.G. Kingston (continued 8)

“Can he have been hit?” said Terence. “It surely was not his boat that was taken.”

“I trust not indeed,” answered Jack, anxiously. “I’ll hail the boats as they come up, to learn if anybody knows where he is.”

Boat after boat was hailed, but no information could be obtained of Murray. They became seriously anxious about him. Jack had several men wounded in his boat, and one poor fellow lay stark and cold in the bow. The other boats had also several wounded on board them, while the steamer had a still greater proportion. The groans and cries of the poor fellows, as they lay racked with pain in the confined space which could alone be afforded on board the small vessels and boats, sounded sadly in the calm midnight air. The surgeons all the time were stepping from boat to boat, or visiting the vessels in succession, and doing their utmost to alleviate the sufferings of the wounded. Happy were those who could sleep, but many, among whom were Jack and Terence, could not close an eye. How anxiously, as they leant back and looked up to the dark sky studded with its myriads of stars reflected in the calm glassy waters, did they wish for the morrow, though that morrow might bring death and wounds to themselves or their companions. Happy, indeed, is it for all of us that we do not know what the morrow may bring forth.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Prisoners.

Battles and wounds, death and destruction, and all the other concomitants of warfare, may be interesting matters to read about, but the reality is very far from pleasant or desirable. Even Jack Rogers and Paddy Adair could not help coming to this conclusion during the night they spent off Lagos, surrounded by their wounded, and dead, and dying companions. They were also not a little anxious about Murray, of whom they could obtain no information. The stars kept shining forth from the dark sky, the surface of the river was smooth as glass, on either side around them was the squadron of steamers and boats, while in the distance could be observed the lights of the black city, from which every now and then a flash might be seen as a negro took it into his head to fire off his musket, or perhaps, while handling it, let it explode unintentionally. At length daylight returned. Directly everybody was on the alert, but as yet no signal was made to recommence the attack. Whatever heroes of romance might have done, modern warriors require rest and refreshment, so the men set to work to cook and eat their breakfasts. While this was going on, a boat was seen approaching the squadron. She was the gig Murray commanded. He himself was on board. His shipmates warmly welcomed him.

“Where have you been? What have you been about? We feared you were lost,” exclaimed several voices.

“It is a somewhat long story,” he answered. “After the retreat was ordered yesterday I saw some negroes pulling off in a canoe to the northward of the island, and not thinking of consequences, I pursued them. Away we went at good speed, but they paddled faster. It did not occur to me at the time that they were making their escape from the town. When I looked astern I found that our own boats had gone to the southward, and that between me and them was a large body of native canoes. To attempt to pass them would have been madness, so I pulled on up the river. The blacks were so engaged in the fight, that I was not perceived. I therefore pulled up the stream till it was dark, and then lay hid for some time to rest and refresh my men. I bethought me that having got thus far, I would employ myself profitably. I therefore dropped an anchor, and let the men take a couple of hours’ sleep; then once more getting under weigh, I dropped down, sounding as I came, and passed right round to the west of the island. When abreast of it I saw dark objects moving across the channel, and found that they were canoes crossing and recrossing, and I have no doubt carrying off household goods and other property, and perhaps some of the inhabitants were making their escape. At all events, it looks as if the natives were not very sanguine of success. I had to wait till I had an opportunity of threading my way between them, and it was only just at daybreak that I was able to get clear. I must now go and make my report to the captain.”

Not long after this the signal was given to attack, and the whole squadron was quickly in movement. There was not a man engaged who was not resolved to redeem, if possible, the loss of the previous day. The boats, as before, pulled round to the northward, where the houses of the king and his prime ministers, as well as of the European slave-dealers, were situated, while the steamers took up positions on either side of the town. There was no mistake this time as to what was to be done. The sad loss of life which occurred on the previous day arose, it must be remembered, entirely in consequence of the grounding of the steamer. This made it necessary to land in the face of a hot fire and to storm the stockades, while it also brought about the subsequent disasters. The signal was given and the steamers and boats opened a steady and well-directed fire, which soon began to tell. House after house was seen to be in flames. The blacks returned it, but with very different spirits to the previous day. They had fancied after the apparent defeat the English had suffered on the previous day, they would not again venture to attack them. Steadily the boats fired away. “Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!” A loud cheer ran through the line. A shot had entered the house of Tappis, Kosoko’s prime minister, and set it on fire. He was one of the most determined supporters of the slave-trade, and the chief instigator of the first attack on the boats of the squadron. Soon after the gun in a battery below his house was capsized, while the men working it were driven out by a well-directed rocket sent among them. House after house now caught fire. Most of the non-combatants had before this fled, the rest were next seen hurriedly making their escape with cries of terror and dismay. Still the garrison, with a bravery worthy of a better cause, held out. The firing on both sides became more rapid, but the English redoubled their exertions. Showers of shot, and shell, and rockets were flying into the devoted town. Suddenly a fearful roar was heard. Earth and stones, and fragments of timber mixed with human forms, were seen to rise up into the air. One of the enemy’s chief magazines had exploded. From that moment the conflagration extended more rapidly and fiercely than before, till the whole city appeared to be in a blaze, the flames rising up in ruddy pyramids and supporting a dark canopy overhead—a fit funeral pall for those who had fallen in the strife. There could be no longer any doubt that the fate of Lagos was decided. A broad creek ran through part of the town. This stopped the flames. Kosoko’s house was still standing. A boat was directed especially to destroy it; but the commander of the expedition, influenced by truly Christian motives, resolved, before doing more injury to the town, to give Kosoko an opportunity of capitulating. The next day was Sunday. He resolved, should the blacks commit no act of hostility, to make it also a day of rest. Recalling all the boats, he sent in therefore a flag of truce, by a friendly chief, to Kosoko, allowing him till Monday morning to consider his proposals. Once more, therefore, on Saturday evening, the squadron retired from before the town; but very different were the feelings of those engaged from what they had been on Friday. Now success appeared certain, then a heavy loss and defeat had been the termination of their day’s labour. Still, as the three midshipmen met on board Jack’s boat, their conversation was far sadder than it was wont to be. So probably was that of the commanders of the expedition.

“To think that we should have spent all this time before a town fortified only by slaving rascals, and manned by blacks, and after all not yet to be masters of it!” exclaimed Jack, with some bitterness in his tone.

“It comes very much of the common English fault of despising our enemies,” observed Murray. “We are apt to forget that though fellows have black or tawny skins, they have got brains in their heads.”

“Still we don’t often find enemies who have the pluck of Britons,” said Adair.

“No, and that is the reason why we are ultimately so generally successful,” answered Murray. “But that does not prevent us from frequently, in the first place, meeting with defeat and disgrace, and losing numberless valuable lives. I do not mean to say that what happened on Friday could have been avoided, but it is very sad to think of the poor fellows who have lost their lives, as well as of the many now suffering from their wounds; so we won’t talk more about the matter.”

That night passed like the former ones, and Sunday was gliding tranquilly away, spent in most instances by the crews on board the vessels and boats, after the example of their commander, as a Sunday should be passed, when it was ascertained that the usurper and his prime minister, and the greater number of his troops, had abandoned the city. The English commander, therefore, sent to direct the negro auxiliaries who had accompanied King Akitoye from Abeokuta to escort him into the city, and to install him in his office. This was done, and they took possession of the houses which had escaped the conflagration, while a small portion only of the British forces entered that evening and spiked the guns in the chief batteries turned towards the river. The next morning fifty-two guns were destroyed or embarked. Murray was among those who went on shore. In his letter home he made the following remarks:—

“The greater part of the stronghold of slavery is now little more than a heap of ashes; but enough of the works remain to show the cunning methods devised by the blacks for entrapping us into ambushes had we assaulted it. In truth, the place is a great deal stronger than we had any notion of. One thing I must say, that, in spite of the reverses we at first experienced, every officer and man engaged in the affair did his utmost, and behaved as British seamen always should behave; and it must be the consolation of the relations and friends of the gallant fellows who lost their lives, that a very important work has been performed, and that the capture of this stronghold of the slave-trade will prove one of the severest blows that hateful traffic has ever experienced. It has done much also, I trust, to advance the cause of religion and civilisation in Africa, and will help, I hope, to wipe away the dark stain which is attached to many of the so-called Christian nations of the world. Akitoye is now installed King of Lagos. He professes great friendship for the English, as well as for the people of Abeokuta. If he proves the stern enemy of the slave-trade and the true friend of Christianity, we shall not have fought in vain.”

On searching for the Spanish and Portuguese slave-dealers, by whom the Lagos people had been trained to arms, none were to be found. They had fled, and as their property was completely destroyed, they have never since returned. The midshipmen heard that their old acquaintance Don Diogo was one of those who had establishments there, but they could not hear anything of him, nor what had become of the felucca, on board of which he was last seen. One thing was very certain, that his love for the English generally, or for them in particular, could not have been increased when he found that all his property in Lagos had been destroyed. The squadron at length once more put to sea, and Lagos has ever since virtually been under the jurisdiction of the British Government, who retain it for the purpose of keeping in check the traffic in slaves.

The frigate had been some weeks at sea before she at length fell in with the Archer, which Murray had then to rejoin. All three of the midshipmen were beginning to look forward to the time when they might hope once more to return to England. Still they were perfectly content, till the time arrived, steadily to go on in the performance of their duty.

When Murray left the frigate he took with him his two parrots, Polly and Nelly, but Queerface remained, and Adair declared that under his judicious system of education he had become one of the most learned and sagacious of monkeys. He said that it reminded him very much of Don Diogo, and so he and Jack amused themselves by rigging him out in a dress similar to that in which they had seen the old Don appear. The imitation was so good that the moment Queerface sprang up on deck the likeness was recognised by all who saw him. When Adair went away in boats he usually took Queerface with him to afford amusement to his men. The frigate had been for some time cruising on to the southward, without meeting with any success, when, there being every appearance of calm weather, Captain Lascelles ordered away two of the boats to cruise in search of slavers, one to the northward and the other to the southward. Jack, to his great satisfaction, got command of the pinnace, and Adair, who would otherwise have remained on board, volunteered to accompany him with Queerface, to make sport for the crew. Dick Needham was also of the party. Away they pulled to the northward, and before sunset they were out of sight of the ship.

“We must have a prize somehow or other,” cried Adair; “it will never do to return without one.”

“Just such a one as you and I took in the Mediterranean when we first went to sea,” said Jack, laughing. “However, we’ll do our best: what do you say to it, Master Queerface?” There sat the monkey in the stern-sheets, dressed in a broad-brimmed straw hat, nankeen trousers, a light blue jacket, and a red neckcloth, just as Don Diogo had appeared when Jack had last seen him. Queerface seemed in no way to disapprove of the hat and jacket, but his lower garments at times somewhat puzzled him; however, he altogether behaved himself very well. There was so little wind that Jack did not even step his masts. He thus hoped to get close to any slaver, should he see one, without being discovered. He had his trusty rifle ready, and from frequently practising he was even a better shot than before. Adair had picked up a very fair rifle at Sierra Leone, but he could not pretend to equal Jack as a shot. They both well knew that they could not hope to take a prize without exerting themselves, and they were, therefore, constantly standing up and looking about on all sides in search of a sail. They were off a part of the coast whence numerous cargoes of slaves were still embarked. A short time before sunset they made the land. Soon after this, as Jack was standing up on the stern-sheets, his eye fell on a white spark glistening brightly in the oblique rays of the departing luminary. He brought his glass to bear on the subject. Adair took a look at it, and so did Needham. They all agreed that the sail in sight was a square topsail schooner standing off the land.

“Then she must pass close to us,” cried Jack. “We’ll be on the watch for her.”

Another look they all took before the sun sank below the horizon confirmed them in this opinion. The last few hours of daylight were spent by the crew in examining their pistols, in seeing that their cutlasses were ready at hand, and everything prepared for boarding at a moment’s notice. All hands then turned to and had a good supper, after which, as they said, they were up to anything.

The boat floated quietly on the almost calm waters, for though the men lay on their oars, they did not pull a stroke. Not a word was spoken above the lowest whisper. There were sounds, for the ocean itself is never, even in a calm, altogether silent. Ever and anon there was a splash, sometimes caused by the boat as the smooth undulations rose up as it seemed from the depths below, and made her roll lazily for an instant from side to side, or some fish rose to the surface with wide-open mouths, or leaped up into the air, or one of the monsters of the unfathomed waters came to have a gaze at the strange thing which floated over their liquid home. A slight mist came over the land with the night air, damp and unwholesome enough, but Jack and Terence little regarded that point, as it contributed much to conceal the boat from the approaching stranger, though they had little doubt that her more lofty sails would easily be seen above it. Time passed on. They calculated that the schooner must be drawing near them.

Once more Jack stood up. “There she is,” he whispered, as he sank into his seat. “Away to the northward. Out oars, lads, as gently as possible. In ten minutes we shall be alongside of her.” The oars had been muffled, and with the long, steady strokes made by the men, scarcely a splash was heard. They might well hope to be up to the stranger without being discovered. On glided the boat. It was an exciting moment. The sails of a large topsail schooner rose up out of the mist before them.

Jack and Adair thought they saw a little beyond her the pointed tops of another craft slowly moving over the bank of fog. If they should both prove enemies there would be fearful odds against them. They numbered only eleven people in all—eight pulling, Needham, and themselves. Still they did not hesitate.

“We’ll take one, and then be ready for the other,” whispered Jack.

Adair nodded his assent. Still discretion might have been the best part of valour in this case.

“That further craft is a felucca,” again whispered Jack. “I can see the tops of her lateen sails above the mist. Perhaps she’s the old Don’s craft. Never mind, we’ll be ready for him.”

In two minutes more they were close up to the schooner. No notice had hitherto been taken of them by those on board. They flattered themselves that they were not perceived. They dashed alongside.

“Who are you? who are you?” said a fierce voice in Spanish. “Speak, speak, who are you?”

“A boat of her Britannic Majesty’s ship Ranger,” answered Jack, who understood what was said. “Heave-to, I want to come on board you.” He said this as the boat was hooking on, and he and Terence, followed by their men, were about to spring on deck, when again the same person who had before hailed, sang out, “Heave, heave, sink the boat and the scoundrel heretics. Have no mercy on them.”

At that instant down came half a dozen round shots into the bottom of the boat, rattling through the planks, while pistols were fired in their faces, and pikes were thrust at them, and swords flourished above their heads. They were prepared for opposition, so, in spite of this, cutlass in hand, they sprang up the side of the vessel without much difficulty, as her bulwarks were low, and attacked their assailants. Jack had time to seize his rifle, for he saw the water rushing into his boat, and he felt that she was sinking under their feet. Followed by Queerface, who, through fright, chattered away louder than ever, the English seamen gained the deck of the slaver. Such undoubtedly she was, if not worse. Jack saw that they had nearly taken her by surprise, for but few men were at that moment on deck; but others, some only half dressed, were rushing out of both the fore and after cabins. The first who had received them made so bold a stand that time was allowed for the whole of the Spanish crew to assemble. They far outnumbered the English. Still the gallant young midshipmen and their followers fought on undaunted. Suddenly Queerface, who had hitherto kept behind the rest, jumped up into the rigging and looked over them.

“Don Diogo! Don Diogo!” cried several of the slaver’s crew; “how comes he to be with these men? There must be some mistake.”

“Quacko—Quacko—Quacko,” cried Queerface, and scud up the rigging out of harm’s way.

The Spaniards could not make it out. The delay, however, was an advantage to the English, as it enabled them to cast their eyes around and see the state of affairs. The greater number of their enemies were forward, so Jack and most of his party sprang on in that direction, hoping to dispose of them first. The fellows stood their ground, firing their pistols and flourishing their swords, and two of the English were shot, and Jack got an ugly cut across his shoulder. Still he pressed on, and compelled at length the Spaniards to take refuge in their cabin under the topgallant forecastle. Meantime Terence was keeping the slaver’s captain and officers in check, but he had lost a man, who was struck to the deck, and Needham too was wounded. Matters were going very hard with Jack and his followers. Still ten British seamen might well have hoped to conquer the whole of a slaver’s crew. The fight had now become desperate. The Spanish captain had probably all his fortune embarked in the venture, Jack and his party had to struggle for life and liberty. Again and again they made desperate rushes at the afterpart of the vessel, and at length they pushed the Spaniards so hard that they almost drove them overboard, when two sails were seen emerging from out of the fog and gliding up alongside. In another instant, not Queerface, but the veritable Don Diogo himself was seen to spring on board, followed by a dozen or more villainous-looking ruffians.

“What’s all this? what’s all this?” his harsh croaking voice was heard shouting in Spanish. “Down with the English pirates, down with them!”

Hearing the cry, the Spaniards, who had taken refuge forward, rushed out again, and though Jack called to Terence to fight to the last, and that they would sell their lives dearly, they found themselves literally borne down by numbers, and their cutlasses whirled out of their hands.

“We have done our best, Paddy, we can do no more,” exclaimed Jack, as he and Terence found themselves standing side by side, with their hands secured and lashed to the mainmast. Needham and the rest of the people who were able to move were treated in the same way.

“Why, my friend, you were very nearly captured by these picaroons,” they heard Don Diogo remark to the other Spanish captain. “But where is a lantern?—let me see whom we have caught.”

The lantern was brought, and the Don came round and held it up to their faces.

“Ha! ha!” he exclaimed, with a most sardonic grin. “Your obedient humble servant, gentlemen. I told you we should meet again, and we have met. What do you expect after all the tricks you have played me?”

Neither Jack nor Terence deigned a reply.

“Ah, speak, pirates,” he exclaimed, stamping furiously on the deck; “the yard-arm, a sharp knife, or a walk on the plank? Whichever you like. I grant you your choice.”

Still neither of the midshipmen would reply. What was the use of so doing?

“We must kill every one of them,” exclaimed the Don, speaking in Spanish, turning to the other captain. “I have a long account to settle with these English generally, and these lads especially. They have been the cause of nearly all my losses. They cannot repay me, but I can take my revenge, and that is something.”

“Certainly, certainly, my friend,” answered the other: “you can hang, or drown, or shoot them, as you think fit. It is a matter of perfect indifference to me.”

These were the last words poor Jack heard as the two worthies entered the cabin.

“We are in a bad case, Jack, I am afraid,” said Adair, “though I could not exactly make out what the fellows said.”

“It was not pleasant,” answered Jack, briefly. “Terence, have you ever thought of dying?”

“Yes, I have; that is to say, I have known that I was running many a chance of being knocked on the head or finished in some way or other,” answered Adair, with some little hesitation.

“Then, Terence, my dear fellow, let us look at it as an awful reality, which is about speedily to overtake us,” said Jack solemnly. “These fellows threaten to at once take our lives; depend on it, they will put their threats into execution.”

“It is hard to bear, Jack dear,” replied Adair; “I am so sorry for you and for all your brothers and sisters at home. I don’t think mine care much for me; that’s one comfort. But I say, I wish that the blackguards would let us have our arms free, that we might still have a fight for our lives.”

“Don’t speak thus, Terence,” said Jack, who was almost overcome by Adair’s allusion to his family. “Don’t let us think of the past, but keep our thoughts fixed on the future world we are about to enter, and think how very unfit we are of ourselves for the glorious place we would wish to go to.”

Terence listened, and responded in the same tone to his messmate. Much more they said to the same effect, nor did they forget to offer up their prayers for preservation from the terrible danger which threatened them. Then, with the calmness of Christians and brave men, they awaited the doom they believed prepared for them. Such consolation as they could give also they offered to the survivors of their crew. Two poor fellows had been killed outright; another was bleeding to death on the deck, nor would the brutal Spaniards offer him the slightest assistance, while they prevented his shipmates from giving it him. Jack himself was suffering also much pain from his wound, while he felt so faint from loss of blood that he could scarcely support himself. He had told Needham that the Spaniards threatened to kill them all.

“Well, sir, they may do it if they dare, but they will be sure to be caught some day or other,” answered Needham. “I wouldn’t change places with them. We shall die having done our duty; they will be hung up like dogs. If I knew their lingo I would tell them so.”

The English were not long left in quiet. So many of the Spaniards had been wounded that some time was spent by them in bandaging up their hurts, and as soon as this was done they came on deck eager to wreak their vengeance on their captive foes. They now came about them with their long knives, flourishing them before their eyes, and pretending to stab at them. Some indeed, more brutal than the rest, actually stuck their knives into their flesh, but though blood was drawn, the seamen generally disdained even to utter a word, though one or two said, “I’ll tell you what, you villains, if I can get my fists at liberty, I’ll give it you.” At length Don Diogo and the captain of the schooner came out from the cabin. They had apparently made up their minds what to do. The latter gave orders to reeve ropes to each yard-arm, while planks were got up and placed over the sides, secured on board by lanyards. On these being cut, of course the end of the plank overboard would instantly sink down and let the person standing on it into the water. Don Diogo had, it seemed, taken upon himself the direction of the executions. Jack and Adair had supposed that the Spaniards would wait till the morning to kill them, but the little Don evidently had no wish to delay his vengeance.

“Cast the prisoners loose, and bring them aft,” he cried out. “Now, you scoundrel heretics, what have you got to say for yourselves? Nothing? I thought so. Well, I will be merciful. You shall choose the mode of your death. What shall it be—will you be hung or walk the plank? There are plenty of sharks alongside who will be happy to entomb you either way.”

No one replied to this address.

“Speak, you heretics,” he cried, stamping with rage.

The two midshipmen cast their eyes about them to assure themselves that what was taking place was a reality; the whole scene appeared so like some horrid dream that they could scarcely believe it true. As they looked up they discovered that a strong breeze had sprung up, and that the vessel was moving rapidly through the water. The deck was crowded with seamen, many of whom held lanterns, so that the whole ship was lighted.

“It is time to begin,” cried the Don. “Come, as you will not choose for yourselves, I must choose for you. Here, seize that lad and run him up to the mainyard-arm.”

He pointed at Adair. Several of the ruffian crew rushed forward and seized poor Terence, and dragged him up to the rope which hung from the yard-arm. They were about to take hold of it to adjust it round Adair’s neck, when down by it came gliding an apparition which, in the uncertain light cast by the lanterns aloft, looked so like old Don Diogo himself, that the superstitious Spaniards, believing that it was his wraith or ghost, let go the rope and sprang back to the other side of the vessel. The old Don was not less astonished than the rest, but not exactly recognising himself, it occurred to him that some spirit of evil had come on board to watch his proceedings. Queerface, meantime, for the apparition was no other than him, seeing the confusion he had created, shinned up the rope again, and on reaching the yard-arm, finding it slack, hauled it up after him, and there he sat chattering away and wondering what the strangers were going to do to his master. The wicked old Don, though astonished at first, was not altogether overcome, and soon recovering himself, began to get an idea of the true state of the case. Once more he ordered the crew to go on with their cruel work, but no one would venture aloft to overhaul the whip, and Queerface showed no disposition to help them. The Don began to swear and stamp with rage, calling them all by certain uncomplimentary epithets, in which the Spanish language is so rich. The crew swore and abused him in return. In the midst of the confusion a voice hailed them through a speaking-trumpet.

“What schooner is that? Heave-to, or I will fire into you.”

“We are in the hands of a set of bloody pirates. I’m Jack Rogers,” sang out Jack, at the top of his voice. Never had he sung out louder.

“Take that for speaking,” exclaimed the little Don, levelling a pistol at his head. He pulled the trigger. It missed fire, and before he could again cock the lock, Needham, who had been working his hands free, sprang aft, and with a blow of his fist levelled him with the deck. It was the signal for the Spaniards to set upon them, and they would all have been cut down, but the next instant a loud crash was heard, and the dark hull of a man-of-war brig, with her taunt masts and wide spread of canvas, was seen ranging up alongside. The next instant twenty or more stout English seamen, led by Alick Murray, came pouring down on the slaver’s deck. The brig which had thus providentially fallen in with them was the Archer. She was on her passage to the northward with despatches for Captain Lascelles, recalling him and his frigate homewards. The news was received by all hands with unmitigated joy. The tables on board the schooner were quickly turned. The Spaniards were all handcuffed, and a strict guard set over them. The midshipmen and their followers went on board the brig, where they were cordially welcomed, and their wounds looked to. The felucca escaped, but as she was never again heard of, it was supposed that she was lost in a fierce gale which occurred two days afterwards. The schooner was found to be full of slaves, and proved a rich prize. Don Diogo escaped hanging, but was reduced to abject beggary, for he had not even the means of leaving Sierra Leone, and very soon afterwards was found dead on the beach. This was the last adventure either of the three midshipmen met with on the coast of Africa. They were all three pretty well tired of it, and delighted indeed were they when they once more found themselves in sight of Old England. The frigate and brig were paid off about the same time, and Alick and Terence accompanied Jack to that often-talked-of and well-loved home of his in Northamptonshire. It must not be forgotten that they had in their train the most sensible of travelled apes. Master Queerface, who, by his amusing antics and performances, and extraordinary monkeyish sagacity, gained the admiration of the whole surrounding neighbourhood. There they remained for some weeks, when, after Alick and Terence had paid a short visit to their own friends, they were all once more summoned afloat.

Chapter Twenty Three.

Bound for China.

Her Majesty’s frigate Dugong was fitting with all despatch for sea at Portsmouth; so was her Majesty’s brig-of-war Blenny, just commissioned by Commander Hemming, well-known, as the papers stated, for his gallantry on the coast of Africa, and on every occasion when he had an opportunity of displaying it. The papers spoke truly, and well had our old friend won his present rank. Both the frigate and the brig were destined, it was supposed, for the China seas; but this was not known to a certainty. The Dugong had been commissioned by Captain Grant, Alick Murray’s old commander in the Archer, who had some short time before received his post rank. Captain Lascelles, with whom the three midshipmen first went to sea, commanded at this time a line-of-battle ship on the Indian station.

Who has not heard of the Blue Posts at Portsmouth, to be found not far from the landing-place known as the Point, now sadly encroached on by new batteries and a broad wooden pier?

One afternoon, at the time of which I am speaking, a cab stopped at the door of that well-known inn, with a portmanteau outside, and a cocked-hat case, a sword, a gun-case, and several other articles, including a young naval officer inside. He nodded smilingly to the waiter and boots, who came to get out his things, as to old acquaintances, and then, having paid the cabman, entered the inn. No sooner had he put his head into the coffee-room, than another young officer, in the uniform of a mate or passed midshipman, jumped up, and, seizing him by the hand, exclaimed—

“I am delighted to see you, my dear Jack. You’ve come to join the Dugong, I hope.”

“If you belong to her, Adair, I wish I was,” answered Jack Rogers, for he was the new-comer. “But I am not. The fact is, Hemming has got command of the Blenny, and I applied and got appointed to her. It can’t be helped now. Any news of Murray? He wrote me word, some little time ago, that he expected to get appointed to a ship. I wish that I could have had him with me; but we three have been on the same station, and mostly together all our lives, and we can scarcely expect the same good fortune to continue.”

“We tried to keep together, and we succeeded,” answered Adair. “There’s nothing like trying, in my opinion.”

“You are right there, old fellow; there isn’t a doubt of it,” exclaimed Jack Rogers, who had been a little out of spirits, and inclined to take a somewhat gloomy view of affairs in general.

No wonder, for he had just left as happy a home as any to be found in Old England. It was a cold March day too, and he was chilled with his journey. He took off his great coat, which, with his other things, Boots carried to his room, and then the two old messmates sat down before the fire. They had been talking on for some time while their dinner was getting ready, when Adair observed a young man sitting at a table a little way off, narrowly observing them. Terence looked at him in return.

“Do you know, Jack, I do verily believe that there sits no other than Bully Pigeon,” he whispered. “What can he be doing down here?”

The stranger, seeing them looking at him, got up, and approaching them with his hand extended, said—

“What, do I see some old friends? Rogers! Adair! Very glad to see you. How de do? How de do? You remember me, surely. I’m Pigeon.”

Thus addressed, it would not have been in the nature of either of the two midshipmen to have refused to shake hands with their old schoolfellow, bully though he had been. They invited him to join them; and when they had dined they all three sat over their wine together, talking merrily of former days.

“I’m going out to China in the diplomatic line,” observed Pigeon, in his old tone. “I have a notion that I shall be able to manage the Celestials. There are few people who can deceive me.”

These, and a few other similar remarks, showed that Pigeon in one respect was little changed from what he had been in his early days. When or how he was going out to China he did not say.

They had been chatting away for some time when another cab rattled up to the inn, and presently at the door of the coffee-room who should appear, to the delight of Rogers and Adair, but Murray himself. They dragged him into the room, each eager to know what ship he was come to join. Paddy gave a shout of delight when he heard that he was appointed to the Dugong. He told them besides that she was certainly under orders for China, to sail as soon as ready for sea, and that the Blenny was also to be sent there.

The old schoolfellows, as may be supposed, passed a very pleasant evening, their pleasure being heightened with the anticipation of being together in whatever work they might be engaged. Even Bully Pigeon was sufferable (as Paddy observed), if he was not altogether agreeable. He had a number of strange adventures to narrate, of which he was the hero. Although his accounts were not implicitly believed, it was agreed that, at all events, they were possible, which was somewhat in his favour.

Two weeks after this, her Majesty’s ships Dugong and Blenny were gliding under all sail across the Bay of Biscay.

“The frigate looks something like a dowager with her small daughter following in her wake, sir,” observed Jack, glancing his eye from the brig to her big consort, as he walked the deck with his captain.

“We must try and make the little daughter win a name for herself out among the Celestials,” said Captain Hemming in return.

“That we will, sir, if we get the chance,” answered Jack.

“Ay, Rogers, but we must make the chance,” remarked his captain with emphasis.

“So we will, sir,” said Jack warmly. “There is not a man on board who’ll not be glad of it.”

Captain Hemming had a sincere regard and respect for Jack, as Jack had for him. They had both seen each other well tried and never found wanting, and they could thus converse frankly and without reserve. Neither Hemming nor Jack were people to talk without fully intending to perform. Indeed, those who knew them felt sure that when dash or cool courage, or perseverance and intelligence, were especially required, they would show that they possessed them all. Jack liked his ship and most of his brother officers, as well as his captain, and was a general favourite with them. He had brought two companions, Adair’s old African follower, Queerface, which he had given to Jack; and a fine Newfoundland dog, Sancho by name. Jack had intended leaving Queerface at home, as Paddy remarked, to remind his brothers and sisters of him. The compliment was somewhat doubtful. But the monkey had played so many curious tricks, and had committed so much mischief, that no one would undertake the charge of him; and therefore, like a bad boy, he was sent off to sea again in disgrace. As was natural, Sancho and Queerface became very intimate, though not at the same time perfectly friendly. Each, it appeared, was striving for the mastery. Queerface, monkey though he was, gained the day; and one of his great amusements was to mount Sancho’s back, and to make him run round and round the deck with him, whipping him on and chattering away all the time most vociferously, to the great amusement of the seamen, if not always to that of the first lieutenant.

Jack had another charge to look after, a young midshipman, Harry Bevan by name, who had been especially committed to his charge. The little fellow had been a petted somewhat spoilt child, an only son, yet go to sea he would; and his parents never had refused him anything, so they let him have his will, though it almost broke their hearts. Jack promised to take the best care of him he could. Harry was not exactly a pickle, but he had very little notion of taking care of himself; so Jack had quite enough to do to look after him, in addition to Queerface and Sancho. Harry and Sancho were very great friends, but Queerface evidently looked upon him as a rival in his master’s affections, and bore him no good-will. This feeling of the monkey was increased by the tricks which the young midshipman played him whenever he had the opportunity. At last he was never able to approach Queerface without a rope in his hand, which he held behind his back, or doubled up in his pocket. The monkey, in the most sagacious way, would skip about till he had ascertained whether the weapon was there or not. If it was there, as soon as he caught sight of it, he would spring up into the rigging and sit on a ratline, as quiet and demure as a judge, without attempting to retaliate.

On board the frigate there was little to interrupt the usual routine. Murray had carried one of his parrots with him, and the sagacious bird afforded almost as much amusement as did Bully Pigeon, who soon showed that he was very little altered from what he had been in his youth. He could not bully, but he could give abundant evidence of being still an arrant donkey. Pigeon now called himself a philosopher, and used to be very fond of broaching his philosophical principles, as he denominated his nonsense. One day, when dining in the gun-room, he began as usual. As he drank his wine he grew bolder and bolder in his assertions. At last he declared that he did not believe that there was a place of punishment after death. He had taken it into his head that the surgeon would side with him.

“I’m sure, doctor, a sensible man like you will not assert that such is a fact?” he continued. “What use would there be in it?”

“I’ll tell you what, ma laddie, there’s one vary good use it will be put to, and that will be to stow away all such vicious, ignorant donkeys as you are,” answered the doctor with great emphasis and deliberation.

Pigeon was no way disconcerted at this somewhat powerful rebuke, but continued as before. Indeed, nothing is so difficult as to make a conceited fool cease from talking folly. At last the first lieutenant struck his fist on the table with a force which made all the glasses ring, as he exclaimed—

“I’ll tell you what, Mr Pigeon. This ship belongs to a Christian Queen, and while I’m the senior officer present I’ll not allow you to sneer against religion, or a word to be spoken which her gracious Majesty would not approve of. Now, sir, hold your tongue, or I’ll report your conduct, and have you put under arrest.”

The diplomatist, though looking very silly, began again, but another loud rap on the table silenced him. It did not, however, silence Murray’s parrot, who had found its way, as it often did, into the cabin, and the moment the voices ceased Polly set up such a roar of laughter, that Pigeon fancied that she was laughing at him. The silly fellow’s rage knew no bounds. There was, however, nothing else on which he dared to vent it, except on the loquacious bird. A bottle of port wine stood near. He seized it by the neck to throw it at Polly, who, unconscious of the coming storm, only chattered the louder. The stopper was out. As he lifted it above his head, a copious shower of the ruddy juice descended over his white shirt and waistcoat, and head and face, so blinding him that he missed his aim, but broke the bottle, while Polly gave way to louder laughter than ever, in which everybody most vociferously joined. The wretched Pigeon had to make his escape to his cabin to change his dress, nor did he venture out again for the rest of the day, some of the time being passed in listening to the not very complimentary remarks made upon him and his so-called philosophy. If anything would have cured him of his folly, that might have done so. He had some glimmering suspicion that he was wrong, but he had no hearty desire to be right, and when that is the case a man is certainly in a bad way.

Day after day the two ships sailed on in sight of each other. The brig was very fast, and, though so much smaller, could outsail the frigate, which was not remarkable for speed. Frequently, when they were together, Polly used to take a flight, to pay her old friend Queerface a visit, and he always seemed delighted to see her. He exhibited his pleasure by all sorts of antics, though he could not express what he felt so fluently with his tongue as she did. At length the Cape of Good Hope was doubled without the Flying Dutchman having been seen, though the philosopher Pigeon kept a bright lookout for him. One night he declared that he saw the phantom bark sailing right up in the wind’s eye, but it was found to be only the Blenny following the frigate under easy sail with a fair wind astern. Pont de Galle, in the island of Ceylon, celebrated for the rich spices it exported, and supposed to be one of the most ancient emporiums of commerce, was visited, and at last the most modern and yet the largest emporium in the Indian seas, Singapore, was reached. This wonderful city, which was founded as late as 1824 by Sir Stamford Raffles, on a spot where, though formerly the site of a Malay capital, at that time but a few huts stood, is now the most wealthy and flourishing on the shores of those eastern seas. Here vessels bring produce and manufactures from all parts of the world, again to be distributed among all the neighbouring countries. There are no duties levied of any sort or description, so that people of all nations are encouraged to come there with their goods. The Chinese especially flock to the port, and great numbers are settled in the city and throughout the island, largely contributing by their persevering industry to its prosperity. Who does not know the look of a Chinese, with his piggish eyes, thatched-like hat, yellow-brown skin, black tail, and wide short trousers? The streets swarmed with them, ever busy, ever toiling to collect dollars, the most industrious people under the sun—yet the least lovable or attractive. Their houses may be known by the red lintels of the door-posts covered with curious characters and designs; while at night the persevering people may be seen still working away by the light of huge paper lanterns covered with the strangest of devices. The whole island is not larger than the Isle of Wight, but already there are a hundred thousand people living on it, collected from all quarters of the globe. There are numerous very handsome houses in the town, mostly roofed with red-brick tiles, while the higher spots in the neighbourhood are chiefly occupied by the villas of the European merchants and other principal residents. Such was the place before which her Majesty’s ships Dugong and Blenny brought up, outside a fleet of strange-looking junks, with flags of all colours, devices, and shapes flying at their mast-heads, while in different part of the extensive roads were ships belonging to nearly all the countries in the world, English, American, and Dutch, however, predominating.

Although just then the British and Chinese empires were linked in the bonds of peace, the ships of war of the former had plenty to do in keeping in order the numerous hordes of pirates which infested those seas, and considerably impeded her commerce, plundering her merchantmen, and cutting the throats of the crews whenever opportunity offered.

The frigate and brig had been at Singapore but a few days when an open boat under sail was seen entering the harbour. She stood for the Blenny, which was the outer vessel. Jack Rogers, who was doing duty as officer of the watch, hailed her to know what she wanted. A glance at the condition of her crew told him more than any words could have done. Their faces were wan and bloodless, their dresses torn, and several had their heads and limbs bound up. One man sat at the helm, and another forward to manage the sail; the rest lay along the thwarts or at the bottom of the boat, apparently more dead than alive. The boat came alongside, but no one in her had strength left to climb on board. Even the man at the helm sank back exhausted as she was made fast. Jack ordered some slings to be got ready to hoist them up, and then, taking some brandy and water in a bottle, he leaped down into the boat to administer it to the poor people. His restorative was only just in time, for many of them were already almost dead. The surgeon and most of the officers of the brig were on shore. Jack, therefore, signalled to the frigate to send a doctor forthwith. Doctor McCan, who had been appointed to the frigate, accompanied by Murray, soon came on board, and every possible assistance was given to the famished strangers. After some time the man who had steered the boat recovered. He said that he was mate of a ship bound from China to the Australian colonies, and that when she was about three hundred miles distant from Singapore, she had been attacked by a fleet of piratical Illanoon prahus, and her captain and crew had resisted to the utmost, but she was reduced almost to a wreck, and at night by some accident caught fire. The first mate was the only surviving officer; the captain and the rest, with many of the crew, had been killed by the pirates. During the darkness the survivors made their escape unpursued, though they could see the prahus approaching the burning wreck soon after they had left her.

As soon as this information was conveyed on shore, the frigate and brig were ordered to proceed to sea in search of the pirate fleet. No one was sorry to have work to do, though small amount of glory was to be obtained in pirate hunting.

“It’s our duty, at all events, and that is one comfort,” observed Jack to Adair, who had been lent to the brig in consequence of the illness of her second lieutenant. Thus two of the old schoolfellows were together.

The squadron, sailing to the northward, cruised in every direction where they were likely to fall in with the piratical fleets; but though many traces of them were discovered in ruined villages and stranded vessels, the crews of which had been murdered or carried off into slavery, the pirates themselves were nowhere to be seen. At last it occurred to Captain Grant that in all probability the pirates were receiving constant information of their movements, and had thus managed to elude them. He therefore determined to fit out three boats, which would, by being able to steal along shore, and pull head to wind, be more likely to come on the pirates unawares.

No sooner was the thought conceived than it was put into execution. Each boat was fitted with a long gun on the bows, besides swivels at the sides for closer quarters, and manned with twelve hands armed to the teeth, besides officers; and in the larger boats two or three extra men. Rogers and Adair got charge of two of the boats. Murray would gladly have gone in the third with Mr Cherry, the second lieutenant of the frigate, who had command of the expedition, but two midshipmen had already been directed to get ready to go in her, and he did not like to deprive either of them of the pleasure they anticipated. The boats did not leave the ships till some two or three hours after dark, that none of the friends of the pirates might discover what had occurred.

No one expected anything but amusement from the expedition. Nat Cherry, their leader, was one of the most good-natured, jolly fellows in the navy, and seldom failed to make everybody under him happy. They could not bring themselves to believe that a whole fleet of pirate prahus would ever wait their attack for a moment, they felt almost sure that directly they appeared the enemy would attempt to escape. Just as Jack was shoving off from the brig, Queerface, who had been watching his opportunity, made a spring into the boat, and there was instantly a loud cry from all on board her, that he might be allowed to remain.

“Oh, he’s such a divertin’ rogue, he’ll keep every mother’s son of us as merry as crickets,” sang out an Irish topman, whose own humour generally proved a source of amusement to all with him.

The request was granted, and Queerface seemed to enjoy the prospect of the trip as much as his companions. Away pulled the squadron of boats. When daylight dawned they were coasting along the shore of an island fringed with cocoa-nut trees, and hills rising in the centre. There were numerous deep indentations, bays, and gulfs, with bluff cliffs here here there, and high rocks scattered about, capital spots in which whole fleets of prahus might lie hid without much chance of being discovered. The weather was very hot, as it is apt to be within a few miles of the equator; and when there was no wind, and the sea shone like a burnished mirror, the sun came down with very considerable force on the top of the heads of the party in the boats. Still their spirits did not flag. Jack and Adair, indeed, had been pretty well seasoned to the heat of the coast of Africa, where, if not greater, it was often far less supportable.

Mr Cherry led: Jack and Terence followed side by side. A constant fire of jokes was kept up between the two boats. Queerface evidently thought that there was something in the wind, and kept jumping about with unusual activity, keeping apparently as bright a lookout as anybody on board. Not an inlet was passed unexplored, still not a sign of the pirates could they discover. On going up one small but deepish river, they came, close to the banks, on a native village. The inhabitants must have taken to flight on their approach, for not a human being was to be seen.

“That looks suspicious,” exclaimed Adair. “We ought to burn this village to teach them better manners.”

Mr Cherry fortunately had no such intention. He had an idea that burning people’s houses was not the best way of making friends of them.

“Indeed, it would be a pity to have to destroy so picturesque a place,” observed Jack Rogers.

The houses were mostly separate, built on piles four or five feet above the ground. They were of one storey, with a deep verandah or gallery running round them, a ladder leading up to it. The roofs, which were high and pointed with deep eaves, were covered with a thick coating of palm-leaves, and so were the walls, while the floors were made of bamboo cut in strips and placed nearly an inch apart, being covered with a thick, beautifully woven mat. They appeared strong, but very springy, so much so, that when Adair began to dance a polka on one of them, he very nearly bounded up to the roof. The village was surrounded and interspersed with cocoa-nut and other palm-trees, and with bananas, whose dark-green foliage gave effect to lighter tints of the forest. The thick jungle pressed hard on every side, leaving space only here and there for some small fields and gardens. Mr Cherry would not allow the slightest injury to be done to the houses; for though it was suspected that they belonged to the pirates, no traces of booty were to be discovered.

After spending some time in examining the locality, they were about to embark, when a dark visage was seen peering out at them from among the trees. Instead of making chase to catch him, Mr Cherry stood still and beckoned to him. This gave the native courage, who, seeing also that no injury had been done to the village, after a little hesitation advanced. One of Jack’s crew was a Malay, who could speak not only his own language, but that of many of the surrounding tribes. He had no difficulty in entering into conversation with the native, who asserted that his people had taken the British for pirates, and had run away in consequence. To prove his sincerity, he offered to pilot the boats to the chief haunts of the pirates. As there was no reason to doubt him, his offer was accepted. He merely requested time to equip himself for the expedition. He entered one of the houses, and soon returned with a couple of creeses stuck in his sash, and a sword by his side, and the whole party, embarking once more, proceeded on their voyage. Their volunteer pilot was a merry, talkative fellow. What his real name was it was difficult to make out exactly, so Jack gave him that of Hoddidoddi, which it sounded very like, and he at once readily answered to it.

All that day they sailed on without seeing anything of the pirates. They began to last to fancy that Hoddidoddi was deceiving them; but he entreated them not to despair, and promised, by noon the next day at farthest, to bring them in sight of the marauders. They brought up at night in a sheltered bay, where the water was as smooth as a mill-pond. Jack and Adair grew very sentimental as they leaned back in the stern-sheets of Mr Cherry’s boat, where all the officers had collected to smoke their cigars, and looked up into the dark sky, sprinkled with stars innumerable. What they said need not be repeated.

“Come, lads, dismount from your Pegasus, and turn in and get a little sleep,” cried their commanding officer; “we’ve a hard day’s work before us to-morrow, I suspect.”

This warning brought their thoughts back to the business in which they were engaged, and, returning to their respective boats, those not on watch were very quickly wrapped in what, as Paddy said, “might have been ‘soft repose,’ if it wasn’t that the planks were so mighty hard.” They were awoke before dawn by a summons from Hoddidoddi, who declared that there was sufficient light for him to pilot them, if they wished to proceed. The anchors were at once got up, and they pulled away along shore.

By daylight they came to a broad channel some miles wide. Their pilot averred that they should find the pirate fleet across it. Away they dashed. A thin silvery mist hung over the ocean; sufficient, however, to conceal them from any one on the lookout on the opposite shore. Only here and there, as they approached, a few palm-trees, rearing their heads above the mist, showed where the shore itself was.

“If the pirates only happen to be there, we shall catch them to a certainty,” shouted Paddy to Jack, as they pulled rapidly on.

Soon all were ordered to keep silence, and Hoddidoddi was seen to be indulging in a variety of curious and somewhat violent gesticulations. Just then appeared the masts and yards of a whole fleet of Illanoon prahus. There could be no doubt that they were the pirates. Mr Cherry had no necessity to order his followers to give way. The seamen laid their backs to the oars, and made the boats fly hissing through the water. They thought that they should take the enemy by surprise; but the sound of tom-toms beating, pistols being fired, and loud shouts showed them that the pirates were not asleep, and that they themselves had been heard, if not seen. Just then a puff of wind blew aside the mist, and exhibited some twenty prahus or more drawn up in order of battle, and ready to receive them. A larger body than they were might have hesitated about attacking; still it did not enter the head of their gallant leader that it would be possible to retreat. He ordered Jack to attack on one wing and Adair on the other, while he pulled for the centre of the fleet, firing his long gun as he did so. The pirates were evidently astonished at this bold proceeding, and at the way the shots pitched into them. Probably they thought that the boats they saw were only the advanced guard, and that a much stronger force was following. First one and then another cut their cables, and, getting out their long sweeps, pulled away on either hand. Some four or five stood to the southward, and Jack in hot haste followed them. Adair pursued nearly the same number round the north end of the island, while the main body, with whom Mr Cherry was engaged, showed a disposition to run up a narrow inlet or channel, which appeared astern of them. Jack cheered on his men, and they, nothing loth, gave way with a will. Still the pirates showed that they possessed very fast heels, besides which they could kick, as the British found to their cost, and several shots from their stern guns struck the boat as she got nearer to them. A groan burst from the lips of one of the seamen. He pulled on; but Jack saw his hands suddenly let go his oar, and down he sank. Directly afterwards another poor fellow was hit. This loss considerably lessened the speed of the boat; some little time also was occupied in placing the wounded men in the stern-sheets, and in looking to their wounds.

Chapter Twenty Four.

Hot Fighting.

With Jack Rogers had come little Harry Bevan; Jack, not believing that there would be any fighting, had got leave to bring his young charge with him. As the shot were flying thickly about, how gladly would he have shielded the young lad with his own body. He wished that he could have ventured to stow him down at the bottom of the boat, out of harm’s way; but he knew well enough that Harry would not have remained there a minute had he done so. Not a thought that he himself might be hit crossed Jack’s mind. His whole anxiety was for the young boy. Harry, however, seemed unconscious of danger. He was leaning over one of the wounded men, assisting to bind up his arm, when Jack saw his hand drop powerless by his side, while he fell forward. Jack caught him in time. “What is the matter, Harry?” he exclaimed. “Are you hurt, lad?”

“A strange pain about my shoulder and arm and neck,” he answered faintly. “Oh, I am very sick, Rogers, very sick.” Jack saw that the boy’s jacket was torn. He cut away the cloth with his knife; the blood how gushed out freely; there was a desperate wound on the shoulder. No woman could have dressed it with more care and gentleness than did Jack. He poured some brandy and water down the lad’s throat, which much revived him, though his suppressed groans showed that he was still in great pain.

Many people would have given up the chase under these circumstances, but Jack Rogers was not a fellow to do that. He found, however, that he could do the enemy more damage by keeping out of the range of their guns, and yet keep them within range of his. Miles were thus passed over. As the sun rose the heat increased. There was a breeze, and the prahus profited by it by spreading all their sails, but it did not serve to cool the air. At length Jack found that he had got round the island, and greatly to his delight he saw the other portion of the pirate squadron followed closely by Adair. The two boats were soon alongside each other. A council of war was held. It was a question whether they should wait for their commander or pursue the enemy. It was quickly decided that they should continue the chase. There were groups of islands ahead, and the chances were that if they did not follow the enemy they would escape among them. So on they pulled. The pirates fired as before, though without doing any further damage. The only person who seemed to wish to be elsewhere was Queerface. He jumped about and chattered incessantly. Then he would try and hide himself; but could not remain quiet, but every time he heard a shot he popped up his head to see where it was going. Suddenly it grew perfectly calm again. A lurid look came over the sky. Evidently there was going to be a change in the weather. The pirates seemed to know what was about to occur. There was an inlet in an island close at hand: towards it they rapidly pulled. Jack and Adair were about to follow, when down upon them came a terrific squall, which very nearly blew both their boats right over. They happily got them before it, and away they flew towards the island they had left. To weather it was impossible. The best chance of saving the boats was to beach them. They prayed that there might be no rocks in the way, but the fierce breath of the tornado was sweeping up such vast masses of foam into the air, that they could see but a few fathoms before them. Side by side the two boats sprang on. Jack stood up. As his boat rose on the top of a sea, he saw the land: close under her bows it appeared.

“Be ready, lads, to spring out, and to carry our wounded shipmates up the beach,” he exclaimed. The next instant the boat struck with a force which shattered her almost to pieces. The seething, foaming waters rushed round her, and would have swept her off again, had not her crew, leaping out, seized her gunwale and dragged her up the beach, while the wounded men were carried to a spot where they were safe.

Jack having placed little Harry, whom he carried in his arms, in a place of safety, looked anxiously round for Terence. The boat of the latter had received even greater damage, but his people had escaped with their lives. Some of the provisions had, however, been washed out of her.

“I fear we are on a very dissolute island,” exclaimed Adair as he came up to Jack. It was certainly a most unpromising spot. There were a few palm-trees to be seen here and there at a distance, but of a stunted growth, as if there was but little soil to nourish their roots, while all around was sand and rock. On hauling up the boats they were both discovered to be unseaworthy; their stock of provisions was much reduced; and what was worst, most of their powder was spoilt, and the boats’ guns rendered useless, a very important loss in the neighbourhood of so numerous and vindictive an enemy. The men had their muskets and cutlasses, however, and there was no doubt but that should the pirates attack them, they would fight to the last. The great hope was that the tornado which had driven them on shore, might have treated their enemies in the same way.

“We ought not to wish our enemies ill,” observed Terence; “but I suppose that it would not be wrong to wish that they may be no better off than we are.”

Jack had nothing to say against this principle. Another source of anxiety was for Mr Cherry. They had left him attacking a very superior force; and even had he come off the victor, how would his boat have withstood the tornado?

Still no one despaired or even lost their spirits, neither were they for a moment idle. The men joked and laughed as much as ever, especially at Queerface, who, delighted to get on shore, leaped and frolicked about in the highest glee. Jack and Terence, after a short consultation, agreed that as they could not get away, it would be safer to fortify themselves, in case the pirates should discover and attack them.

They were not long in selecting a spot among some rocks, where, by throwing up banks of sand and digging holes in which to shelter themselves, they hoped that they might bid defiance to ten times their own number of enemies. The tornado kept blowing very fiercely for most of the time; at length, when their work was far advanced, it subsided considerably. Their labours were, however, not ended till nearly dark, by which time it was again calm. They made an awning with the boats’ sails, and were all glad to lie down and get some rest after the fatigues of the day, the necessary guards having been placed to give notice of the approach of an enemy. They prudently would not light a fire lest the light should be seen by the pirates, who might be on the lookout for them.

Jack’s chief concern was for Harry Bevan. The men bore their sufferings well, though they groaned in their sleep as wounded men generally do, even when not in much pain; but their pulses kept up, and their minds were collected. Jack and Adair had gone to the highest point of rock in the neighbourhood, to ascertain, if they could, if any enemy was near; but far as their gaze could extend across the starlit ocean, no vessel of any sort floated on its surface. Hoping that they might be left in peace till daylight, and thus give longer time for Mr Cherry to rejoin them, they returned to their encampment. They found poor little Harry talking away vehemently about people and circumstances of which they knew nothing, relating undoubtedly to his far-distant home. His mind was wandering. He thought Jack was his mother, and blessed him for all the care and kindness he was showing him. He fancied, however, that Adair was Queerface; and told him that he would rope’s-end him if he came near him, a compliment Paddy did not altogether approve of. The worst part of the business was, that they could do nothing for the poor boy. They had no medicine, and had no notion of what to administer if they had had any. Jack was afraid of giving more brandy, so he let him have as much water as he wanted to drink; and by soothing words tried to calm his mind, and lull him to sleep. At length Dick Needham, who belonged to Jack’s boat, woke up and entreated to be allowed to sit by the side of the poor little fellow. Who could wish for a more tender, gentle nurse than a true-hearted British sailor can make when he is aware that grog, however good in its way, is not, under all circumstances, the very best of medicines that can be administered? Leaving Harry therefore to Needham’s care, Jack and Terence sat up talking for some time longer, making arrangements, like wise commanders, what, under the various circumstances which might occur, they would do. At length they threw themselves on the ground, and endeavoured to obtain a little rest in preparation for the work before them.

Jack thought that he had been only a few minutes asleep, when he started to his feet on hearing Needham’s voice. “What is it?” he exclaimed, looking around. It was daylight, but a thick white mist hung over the sea.

“The enemy are not far off, I suspect, sir,” answered Needham, who at that instant was entering the encampment. “My mind misgave me somehow, and I went to the top of the rock.” Before he could finish the sentence Jack sprang on towards the place mentioned, followed by Terence, who roused up the moment he heard Jack’s voice. On reaching the top of the rock, they cast their eyes eagerly seaward. At first nothing but a mass of white mist could be seen. Jack thought that Needham had been mistaken. While, however, they were still in doubt, a current of air it seemed blew off the top of the mist just as froth is blown from a mug of ale, and the upper sails of a fleet of prahus appeared not a quarter of a mile from the shore.

“The pirates must be looking for us,” exclaimed Terence; “it will be fortunate if the mist continues, and they slip by without pitching on us.”

“Pitching into us, you mean,” said Jack, with a laugh. “Well, if they find us out, we must drive them off, and hold our own till the frigate sends to look for us. Still as they are ugly customers, we’ll do our best to keep out of their sight.” In this strain the two midshipmen talked on for some time, watching the movements of the prahus. Now the fog closed round them—now it lifted and exposed their sails to view. They seemed to be gliding by the island. Yet they were unpleasantly near.

“If the fog lifts, they can scarcely fail to see us,” remarked Terence.

“Then, Paddy, we must fight it out to the last, and I am sure that you are of my opinion too,” said Jack.

“That I am, Jack,” cried Adair, wringing his hand. “But I say, what is that? I heard the splash of oars.” They listened. There could be no doubt of it, and their practised ears told them that it was not the stroke of British seamen. The pirates, it was too probable, had sent on shore, and would land close to the very spot where the wreck of the boats lay. They would in all probability betray them. It could not be helped, so they hurried back to the camp to prepare for whatever might happen. As they passed along the beach, they could still hear the sound of oars, which was borne for a considerable distance over the calm water. The men stood with their muskets in their hands ready for the attack. Even the wounded men begged to be propped up against the bank that they might get a shot at the enemy.

Poor little Harry had dropped off into a deep slumber, and knew nothing of the preparations taking place. Needham volunteered to go down and watch behind a rock close down to the water, so as to give the earliest notice of the approach of the pirate-boats, should they come on shore at that point.

They had not long to wait. Louder and more distinct grew the splash of the oars.

Presently Needham came running up to the fort. “There are pretty nearly a dozen boats in,” he exclaimed; “you’ll see them in a moment coming out of the fog. They can’t very well miss finding us.”

“Very well,” said Jack, coolly. “They’ll be sorry that they did find us, that’s all.”

As Needham had said, in another minute the long black hulls of the pirate’s boats appeared through the fog, and being run up on the beach, the crew leaped out of them. The swarthy savages, with sharp creeses by their sides and long jingalls in their hands, looked about on every side, and seemed surprised at not finding an enemy. They examined the boats, and then looked about again. So well was the fort constructed among the rocks, that in the fog they did not discover it. They began to scatter about; they were evidently persuaded that the English had made their escape across the island. At length three or four Malays wandered close up to the fort. They stood for a moment as if transfixed, and then, as it beamed on their comprehension what it really was, they beat a retreat, shouting to their companions.

The seamen were for firing at the intruders, but Jack ordered them not to throw a shot away, or to fire till they were attacked. They had not long to wait. The whole band of Malays quickly collected, and, with glittering creeses in their hands, rushed on to the attack.

“Now, boys, give it them,” cried Jack, and Terence repeated the order almost in the same breath, for he knew that it was coming. Half the seamen only fired, and then began again to load. The other half waited till the first were ready, and the Malays had got close up to the bank. The latter, fancying probably that only a few had firearms, came on courageously.

“Fire, boys,” cried Jack, quietly. The seamen jumped up, and the pirates, not expecting so warm a reception, wavered and fell back, leaving several dead and wounded close to the fort.

Jack and Terence began to hope that they would retreat altogether, but, encouraged by their chiefs, once more they were seen to come on. At the same time several more boats reached the shore. Jack and Terence could not conceal from themselves that they were in a dangerous position.

With loud, horrible shrieks, the Malays rushed up to the fort. The noise of the firing woke up little Harry, and, just as the pirates had a second time reached the embankment, Jack found him standing close to him, his clothes bespattered with blood, and his face looking pale as a sheet of paper. For a moment Jack thought it was the ghost of his young charge; but he had no time to think about it, for the next instant the enemy were close to them. Again and again the English sailors fired and kept the enemy back, but the pirates so far outnumbered them that there seemed but little hope of their ultimate success. Again, by their unflinching bravery, they drove the enemy back. The Malays, however, kept up a hot fire at them when they got to a distance, and several of the English were hit and unable longer to fight. Two poor fellows were killed outright. The fog now cleared, and Jack saw that the prahus themselves were drawing in with the land. With their own scanty numbers diminishing, and those of the enemy increasing, Jack and Terence could not help acknowledging that their case was desperate. Still, when the enemy once more came on, they received them with as firm hearts and as hearty a cheer as before. For a short time there was a cessation of firing. Queerface, who had wisely got into a hole, looked out to see what had happened. At that moment a bird was seen flying towards the fort. To the surprise of all, it pitched close to Queerface, who seemed delighted to see it. Adair turned round. “Why,” he exclaimed, “there is Polly. Where can she have come from?” It was a question no one could answer. The boats had gone off to the prahus, and now returned with more men. With terrific shrieks and cries of vengeance, the Malays rushed towards the gallant little band of Englishmen, resolved to destroy them.

Chapter Twenty Five.

In desperate Condition.

The Malay pirates surrounded the fort, uttering the loudest shrieks and cries, in the hope of terrifying the defenders, but they did not know what British seamen were made of; and in spite of the fierce and terrific looks of the enemy, Jack and his little band stood fast, prepared to receive the onslaught. Poor Harry Bevan had sunk to the ground, not through fear, but weakness; and Jack had placed himself over his body, determined to defend him as long as he himself had life or strength. He felt and looked not a little like a lion prepared to do battle for her young. Jack had now grown into a very strong fine young man. He was not very tall, but he had broad shoulders and an expansive chest; and now, as he stood cutlass in hand, with a profusion of light hair streaming back from his honest sunburnt countenance, he was the picture of a true British sailor, and might well have been likened to the noblest type of the king of beasts. Adair was not a whit behind him in courage, though his physical powers were not so great. What hope was there though for them and their gallant men? At that moment there appeared but very little. Both of them knew that braver savages than the Malays were not to be found. Jack, as he stood there, with his muscular arm bared and his sharp weapon in his hand, did not put his trust in either. He knew and felt that the arm of One alone who is mighty to save could preserve him and his companions; and with deep earnestness and perfect faith he lifted up his heart to heaven, and prayed that assistance might be sent them. The British seamen returned the shrieks of the Malays with shouts of defiance, and kept up a rapid fire as they came on. Now their weapons cross. There is the loud sounding clash of steel, the sharp crack of muskets and pistols, the shouts and shrieks of the combatants. There is the thick smoke from the firearms mixed with the mist, rapid flashes of flame, and all the other sounds and appearances of a desperate struggle. Still, though the pirates hemmed them closely round, the seamen stood as before, boldly at bay, and no impression was made on their front.

“Jack,” cried Adair, in the middle of the fight, “I don’t think Polly came here for nothing. Hold on for a short time, and we shall be relieved, depend on it. She and the monkey have been talking away together, and Master Queerface looks as if he knew all was right.”

I rather suspect that Adair was allowing his imagination to run away with him, or that he spoke thus to keep up the spirits of his men. Still the appearance of Polly was very extraordinary, and could only be accounted for by supposing that the frigate was not far off; or that she had accompanied Mr Cherry, and that his boat was in the neighbourhood. The idea might have encouraged the seamen to still further resistance, but the Malays pressed them hard; and, overwhelmed with numbers, it appeared as if their fate was sealed. Even Jack began to fear that this was the case. He saw that the fire of his men began to slacken, and the dreadful report ran round among them that their ammunition was almost expended.

“What is to be done, Rogers?” said Adair in Jack’s ear.

“Trust to Heaven, Terence,” answered Jack, warding off a blow which a Malay who had leaped forward made at his head. The next moment the savage rolled over, a lifeless corpse, down the embankment. For another minute the desperate struggle continued with unabated fury. Then a sound was heard which made the hearts of the British seamen leap within their bosoms—it was the loud report of a heavy gun which echoed among the rocks. The seamen answered it with a hearty cheer, for no guns but those of their own ship could give forth that sound. Another and another followed. At the same time the breeze which the frigate had brought up blew away the mist; and just above the rocks her topsails could be seen as she stood after the Malay prahus. The pirates saw her too. If they would save their vessels and their lives, they knew that there was not a moment to be lost. At a sign from their chiefs, as if a blast of wind had suddenly struck them, before the English knew what they were about, they rushed away like a heap of chaff before the gale. Jack and Terence, knowing their cunning nature, and fancying that they might rally again, hesitated to follow, and kept back their men.

“They are off,” at length cried Terence. “Hurrah, my lads. Let’s after them!”

Jack did not spring forward at once. He had not forgotten for a moment his young charge. He knew that, driven to desperation, the Malays were very likely to run amuck, and, if they found him, to kill him. He felt sure that he would only be safe if he had him with him. Stooping down, therefore, he seized the little fellow in his arms, and, holding him as much as possible behind his back, he sprang on, and overtaking his companions, made chase after the retreating Malays. The other wounded men, in the excitement of the fight, had forgotten their hurts, and were pursuing with the rest. Queerface and Polly had, therefore, no fancy to be left behind, so off they set also, though they took care to keep in the rear of their friends.

The Malays had reached the beach, and some were swimming and others wading off to their boats, when the two midshipmen and their followers got up with them. All were too eager to escape to attempt to offer any resistance. Jack had to recollect that they really were most atrocious robbers, or he could scarcely have brought himself to allow his men to fire on them. Not many shots, however, were fired, for the last cartridge in their pouches was expended. Happily, the Malays were in too great a hurry to be off, to turn and let fly at them. The frigate, under all sail, was coming round the point on the left hand, while the prahus were endeavouring to get away out of the range of her shot to the right or south side of the island. They were catching it, however, pretty severely, and more than one appeared to be in a sinking condition. The midshipmen were now eager to try and get their own boats afloat, but they were in an utterly unfit state for launching, so all they could do was to make signals to the frigate that she might return and take them off, after she had destroyed the pirates. This there was very little doubt she would do. In the eagerness of the chase, however, Jack bethought him that those on board would very likely not observe their signals.

“Never mind,” cried Adair, as a bright thought struck him; “we’ll send Polly off; she’ll carry our message.” A note was accordingly written on the leaf of a pocket-book, and being secured under Polly’s wing, Adair lifted her up, and showing her the frigate, gave her a shove off towards it. She seemed to know exactly what was expected of her, for, giving one glance only round at her friends, away she darted towards the ship. They watched her anxiously till she was lost to sight. Still, they had little doubt about her reaching her destination, and in the course of a very few minutes their anxiety was relieved by their seeing a flag run up to the mast-head of the frigate, while a gun was fired to leeward. She, however, passed before them, and soon disappeared again on the other side of the island. A rapid and continuous fire told them what she was about. Jack and Adair would gladly have gone round to see what was occurring, but the distance was considerable, over hot burning sand and rocks, and they would not leave their wounded and tired men to gratify their curiosity. They very soon remembered, after the excitement of the work in which they had been engaged was over, that they had not breakfasted; so all hands who could move about set to work to collect sticks to light a fire. It soon blazed up, and speedily coffee and cocoa were boiling, and bits of meat were roasting away at the ends of ramrods and sticks. The poor wounded men, when the excitement was over, began to feel not hunger, but the pain of their hurts, and several sank to the ground unable to move. Their shipmates did their best for them, and rigged an awning with the boats’ sails, under which they were placed. Some of the men wandered away, and brought back a supply of cocoa-nuts, the milk of which afforded a deliciously cooling beverage to the poor fellows. Jack, meantime, was tending his young charge with as much care and tenderness as a mother would a child. At length he was rewarded by seeing Harry come to himself. The boy looked up in his face, and the first words he uttered were—

“We’ve beat them, Rogers, have we? Hurrah! hurrah!”

“Yes, Harry,” answered Jack, “it is all right. The enemy have taken to flight, and we shall soon, I hope, be on board the frigate. But here, you will be the better for some cocoa. Take this.”

Jack sat down under the shade of the sail, and Needham having brought him a mug of cocoa, he broke some biscuit into it, and stirring it up while the boy’s head rested on his knee, he fed him as he would have done a baby. Harry, who had soon again relapsed into apparent unconsciousness, opened his lips and ate a little with a dreamy expression of countenance, as if he himself fancied that he was still a baby being fed by his nurse. The food, however, Jack saw was doing him good, for the colour slowly returned to his cheeks, and his pulse began to beat more regularly.

“He will be all right soon,” exclaimed Jack to Adair. “It is wonderful what Nature will do if we don’t play tricks, and take liberties with her.”

Harry Bevan, though delicately nurtured, was of a sound constitution, which he had not injured by either drinking or smoking, or by any other means, as many poor silly lads do, thinking they are behaving in a manly way by so doing. Had he been inclined to do so, Jack Rogers would have taken very good care to prevent him. Thus it was, however, that he did not succumb to the fearful injury he had received. Still Jack was very anxious to get him safe on board, and under the doctor’s care. Time went on, and still the frigate did not appear. Adair proposed starting off to the other side of the island to ascertain what had become of her, when a boat was seen rounding the point. “She is Mr Cherry’s boat,” was the cry. “Hurrah! hurrah!” With hearty cheers, Mr Cherry was welcomed on shore. He had had a severe struggle, and had lost two of his men killed, and three wounded, but had succeeded in putting the pirates to flight. His boat was not large enough to carry all the party, but he had one of the carpenter’s crew with him, and some tools; and, after a little examination, Tom Gimlett declared that he could patch up one of the boats so as to make her in a fit condition to launch. All hands helping, and with the aid of some planks from the other boat, this was done, and at length the two boats were on the water, on their way to look for the frigate. When Mr Cherry heard how long it was since she had passed the island, he began to be somewhat anxious about her. The boats, however, were so heavily laden, that they could not make much speed to satisfy themselves as to what had happened. The men did their best, and it was wonderful how they kept up their spirits under the hot broiling sun, which, as Paddy observed, “was roaring away like a furnace, right over their heads.” No sooner had they rounded the island than the sound of a gun, booming over the smooth waters, reached their ears. At slow intervals another and another followed. “The ship is in distress,” observed Adair to Jack. “What can have happened?”

“Give way, lads,” cried Jack, seizing the stroke oar, and bending his back to it with a will. It was the only answer he made to Adair’s remark. Little Harry looked up at him with admiration and affection, and the men exerted themselves more than ever. On they pulled, hour after hour. No one proposed resting, even to take any refreshment, except a piece of biscuit, which the men chewed during the intervals that they were relieved at the oars.

“There she is at last,” cried Jack, standing up on the stern-sheets. He took a steady look at her through his glass. So did Mr Cherry through his. Her sails were set, but with heavy hearts, they both agreed that, from her appearance, she must be hard and fast on shore, and if on a coral reef there was too great a probability that she might not be got off again.

Chapter Twenty Six.