by T. T. Jeans
*CHAPTER IV*
*The Loss of Lieutenant Travers*
No News of Sally Hobbs--A Discovery--Those Villainous Pirates!--The Skipper is Furious--Weary Waiting--The Skipper Rages--"I'll do 'em yet"
_Written by Commander Leonard Umfreville Truscott, R.N._
You have already heard of that disastrous fire at Tinghai, and of ourfailure to rescue the American, Mr. Hobbs, and his daughter Sally, thestrange disappearance of Travers, and the death of that German fellow,so that I will tell you of what happened afterwards.
After sending Whitmore, our Gunnery Lieutenant, back to the ship withthe fire engines, the marines, and "A" company, I waited for daylight,guarding what was left of the Mission House with "B" company. Ourfailure to save little Sally Hobbs and her father cast a great gloomover my men, which was still further increased when it became evidentthat something serious must have happened to account for the absence ofTravers. Young Ford was most positive that he had seen him enter theMission gate, but after that no one seems to have seen him. However, wefully expected him to turn up at daybreak, and could do nothing toassist him till then, if he had in some way or other lost his way in thedarkness.
But I don't mind confessing that to protect Sally Hobbs was uppermost inthe minds of every officer and man who had landed that night, and thethought of her, surrounded by a howling mob of maddened Chinamen, wasthe spur which had urged everyone so wildly through the streets. Ourfailure and her probable fate, down in the burning town, made us biteour lips in great agony of mind. Fifty times during the night was Iimplored by my men to take them down into the town itself; but I knewthat it would be useless, and that lost among those narrow, stragglingstreets, and unable to keep in touch with one another, we should besimply courting disaster. If I had been alone I suppose that I shouldhave gone, and it was a great strain not to go, and take my eager menwith me; but I had no right to risk their lives uselessly. It was quiteanother pair of shoes for Ching and his men, because they were amongtheir own countrymen, and ran little risk by doing so. Ching, himself,as soon as Barclay had dressed his shoulder--it was most unfortunatethat one of our people had wounded him--followed his men there and leftus to ourselves. I told him that we should remain near the Mission allnight, and resume our search in the morning. Poor fellow, I think hewas as distressed as any of us were at the fate of the little Americangirl, for even his thin, usually expressionless face showed traces ofthe anguish which we all felt. In the house he had found a greytam-o'-shanter cap which she had worn, and I saw him stuff it into histunic, and, you may be sure, was in no mood to chaff him about it.
Mrs. Macpherson told me, before her husband took her away to the houseof some native convert, that directly the fire had started down in thetown, Sally Hobbs, poor little girl, had made her father take her downto see it, throwing a shawl over her head and hurrying away, just as shewould have done in America, in spite of the earnest entreaties ofMacpherson himself.
As day dawned, Ching brought his men back, their faces and uniformsblackened and torn. "I have no news, sir. Not a trace of her to befound;" and then he threw himself down on the ground, utterly exhausted.His men--Tartars of splendid physique--were as worn out as he was.
As I expected, Captain Lester sent me a fresh lot of men, and food forthe few I had kept with me. I therefore started with them to make amore systematic search than it had been possible to make in thedarkness, leaving my other fellows to share their food with theirChinese comrades. We searched the ground behind the Mission, examiningevery hut and outhouse as we went, and gradually spread out towards theleft and towards a little bay or sweep of the coast, which here ran intothe land. For an hour we searched without result, but then a seamancame running back with a uniform glove which he had picked up by theside of a small path running down towards the sea and that small cove.The glove might or might not have belonged to Travers, but I knew thathe was probably the only one of us who would have worn gloves--he wasrather eccentric about dress--so hoped that this might be some clue tohis disappearance, and followed the path. Almost immediately anotherman picked up a handkerchief. The initials in one corner wereH.C.L.--those of Lawrence, our navigator--but though he had not landed,I knew that Travers had a weakness for borrowing other people's things,and my hopes were again raised. I am afraid that my brain wasn'tworking properly--the terrible night was responsible for that--and forthe life of me I could not imagine what reason could have broughtTravers along this path. We yelled his name, my bugler boy blew the"close", but without result, except that all the mongrel curs in theneighbourhood started yapping and howling.
I followed that path till it dipped over the crest of a ridge and thenled down to the little bay below us--a little bay with a curved mudbeach. My men were on the point of rushing down to it, when Trevelyan,the Lieutenant who had brought them ashore and relieved Whitmore,suggested that we might find traces of footmarks to help us. Itherefore sounded the "halt", and he and I went down alone. Trevelyanwas quite right, the muddy shore was covered with footmarks in oneplace, and there were also three long furrows in the mud, evidently madeby the keels of boats. These furrows led right up to high-water mark,and my brain was not too dense to appreciate the fact that three boatshad been there at high water. We could trace the furrows for fifteenfeet or more down the shore, and one went much farther than the others."They shoved them off and had to push hard, sir," cried Trevelyan,bending down and showing me how deep some footmarks were, and how themud was piled up at the back of them. "It was at the last tide too,sir, otherwise they would have been washed flat again." That wasevident enough, but I couldn't think what he was driving at.
"When was Travers last seen, sir?"
"About one o'clock in the morning--there or thereabouts," I told him.
"Well, high tide was at about midnight, so these boats must have beenshoved off about an hour and a half afterwards, half an hour or so afteryou lost Travers." He was getting quite excited, but, honestly, mybrain wouldn't work.
"And this boat must have been later still, sir," and he pointed to thelonger furrow.
Then there was a yell above us from some of the men who had beenwandering about, and we saw several of them stooping over a clump ofscraggy bushes, and one came down to tell me that they had found somedead Chinamen.
I went up and saw two--disgusting objects they were--with their nosesand lips cut off. I couldn't stand the sight; I'd had no breakfast, andwalked away, feeling dazed and sick, and opened my mouth and drew in thesea breeze to drive the smoke fumes away from my head.
Trevelyan joined me in a few minutes. "One of those fellows has beenshot at very close quarters, for his clothes are singed and blackened,and the other has had his head battered in. Look, sir! they must havebeen dragged along there," and he pointed to a broad mark, running alongthe mud from the bushes to the furrows.
He ought to have been a detective, ought Trevelyan, and was off in a"jiffy" to search for fresh traces. "Footmarks! bootmarks! plenty ofthem, sir," he shouted presently, and I saw him bending down andmeasuring them with his handkerchief. "Ours, I expect," I sang back;but he shook his head, and presently came up to me in a great pitch ofexcitement--he had taken his own boots off by this time to avoid makingany more marks--"There are at least three different sizes down there,sir! European bootmarks too. One of them might belong to Travers, butthere are some very much larger ones than his, and I don't think thatone man made them all. There must have been several Europeans down hereearly this morning. This must be where the pirates landed and shovedoff again, sir--two of the boats more or less together, and the thirdhalf an hour or so later--but I'm bothered if I can make out those twocorpses, and what they are doing here."
I dragged him away. He was very reluctant to go, and kept turning backand scanning the shore with his glasses. Suddenly he took me by theshoulder--I was so "jumpy" that his touch gave me quite a shock--"Lookthere, sir! What's that?" and before I could
say anything he dartedback, began to undress, and then wading and swimming, and clinging tosome fishing stakes which jutted out from the shore, he made his way towhere something hung from the farthest fishing stake. I could see thatit was something coloured, and as he came back with it I recognized itas a shawl belonging to Mrs. Macpherson, and remembered that she hadtold us that Sally Hobbs had borrowed one before going down to the fire.
I knew what it all meant now--her disappearance--the bootmarks on theshore--the furrows of those boat keels--and the shawl--and that the poorlittle girl had again fallen into the hands of those fiends of pirates.One cannot explain, or describe, how one feels on occasions like this,though I do know that when Trevelyan rejoined me presently, blue in theface with cold, and with his teeth chattering, but bringing the shawl,and intensely eager to solve the mystery, I felt as though I wanted tohit him, and hated to have to tell him all it meant.
"Give it to me," I said harshly.
"No, sir; I cannot. I found it, and if it turns out as you say, I'mgoing to give it back to her."
We said not a word as we trudged back to the Mission House, neither ofus caring to speak of what we feared. Ten minutes ago I should have beeninexpressibly pleased to have found Travers, but now I eagerly hopedthat he had been kidnapped too, and that, in some way or other, he mightbe able to protect her--for her father I cared not two straws, nor did Iplace reliance on any effort of his to save either of them.
Fortunately Captain Lester was waiting for us near the ruins of theMission House, and it was a relief to find him in a bad temper. Hedidn't wait to hear what I had to tell him, but, shaking his fist at me,bellowed out, "This is the work of those villainous pirates"--he washardly able to speak for rage. "Set fire to the town--right under mynose--made a fool of Old Lest, and cleared out again without a scratch.And that little lass too! What's become of her and of that foolTravers? I can't trust a single one of my officers. Umph! Here you goashore to put out a fire, don't save anyone, and shoot that chap Ching.Umph! I'd like to---- Umph!"
I rapidly told him all that had happened.
"Poor little lass! Poor little lass!" he groaned, and all the angerdied out of his face. He came down with me to that bay, saw the bodiesand the marks on the shore, sent people to scour all the neighbourhood;but nothing more could be discovered, and we went back again.
Presently the missionary came up--he'd been down to see those bodiestoo. He was shaking like a leaf, and his sunburnt face was quite ashenin colour. "Ah, mon!" and he wrung his hands, "but one o' those puirdead things was my servant. I know him by his clothes--the one with hishead fair smashed in."
I had had too many puzzling events suddenly sprung on me that morning,and, honestly, couldn't try to explain this last, and could only sayfeebly, "Poor chap! Poor chap!"
"A vairy faithful mon, an' vairy leetil expense," moaned the missionary.Trevelyan showed him the shawl, and he recognized it at once as the oneSally Hobbs had thrown over her head before leaving the Mission, so ourlast faint hope vanished.
Fortunately young Rawlings relieved the grimness of everything justthen. He is a most pugnacious youngster, and though I had sent him onboard with Whitmore, he had managed to come ashore again. He had gotinto trouble with two coolies--I suppose he had found them looting--andhad gone for them with his fists, and was laying about him in finestyle. One had taken to his heels, but the other stood his ground, andkept banging at him with a piece of wood. The Skipper caught sight ofthem too, and, for all the bad temper he was in, smiled grimly, andchuckled out, "Go it, youngster!" Rawlings had already received a nastycut over the forehead, and would have been "knocked out" in anotherminute, if I hadn't stepped forward and knocked the fellow down. I don'tmind telling you that I put more "beef" into that blow than wasabsolutely necessary. Somehow or other I felt I must hit somebody, andit was unlucky for that Chinaman.
"Go down to the boat, Mr. Rawlings. Umph! what d'you mean by brawling?"growled the Skipper, suddenly remembering himself.
The Skipper told me, as we walked back to the landing-place, thatseveral Europeans had been seen during the night, and that they wereevidently in command of parties of Chinamen, who had prevented theinhabitants extinguishing the flames when they first started. This madeit positive that it had been the work of the pirates, and confirmed therumours that Europeans had frequently been seen among them at differenttimes, and when any outrage on a large scale had been carried out.
What made the Skipper so furious was that they had so completelyoutwitted him; and he became purple in the face with fury at theirdaring to swoop down on the town, under his eyes, as it were, burn halfof it, kidnap Hobbs and his daughter, probably Travers too, and get awayscot free.
He took it as a personal insult, and I can't tell you all the mad thingshe suggested. He felt very much as I did--he wanted badly to battersomebody's face, but he soon quieted down, and walked beside me withgreat strides, grunting and growling, and screwing up his face, and Iknew that he was trying to work out some plan in his bull-dog brain.
But you can't hit a man till you've caught him, that was the difficulty,and we had to catch him first, and knew well enough that among theseislands were a thousand places where those two steamers--the tramp andthe yacht--could lie concealed for years.
"Unless they want to make money over 'em, they're as good as done for,"the Skipper said, as we went on board. "Poor little lass, not more'n acouple of years older than my lass Nan!"
I had served with "Old Lest" seven years, and I would do any mortalthing for him. He pretended he was a thundering bully, and was reallyas gentle as a child; and the men worshipped him, his gruff voice andgreat red face--even his bad temper. I was extremely sorry for him too,because the responsibilities resting on him were so great, prompt actionso necessary, and the difficulties so enormous.
He did what I suppose was the best, and sent the gunboats and the _HuanMin_ cruising, whilst we remained at Tinghai, with fires "banked".Leave to officers and men was forbidden, and that meant, of course, thatthe Skipper himself did not go ashore, and had to give up his shooting,which was the one thing for which he lived. The _Vigilant_ was, in fact,kept ready to start within an hour of receiving any news.
Meanwhile natives--as trustworthy as Ching and the Taotai couldprocure--had been scattered through the archipelago, and the war junksalso had been induced to leave Tinghai and endeavour to procureinformation. The Skipper seemed to depend upon these particularly,because they had naturally more intimate knowledge of the islands andthe character of the people. They could cruise, too, without attractingso much attention as our gunboats. They generally cruised for a week,and at the end of that time came sailing back to Joss House anchorage,covered with flags and firing off guns, but with never a particle ofnews.
Week after week went by, and not a trace of the pirates could be found.Indeed, they seemed to have disappeared off the face of the seas, andnot a single outrage had been reported since they had burnt Tinghai.Rashleigh, coming back in the _Ringdove_, did certainly report that hehad one night heard what he thought was the sound of guns somewhere offthe Chung-li Tao group, but had discovered nothing when he steamed inthe direction of the noise. "Silly fool!" roared the Skipper to me, "hedon't know the difference between thunder and guns."
These weeks of weary waiting were most depressing, and the constantconfinement on board, without any exercise, most bad for our health--andtempers.
We now felt sure that someone, probably the dead Mission servant, hadguided Travers down to the shore that night; that he, like the madfellow that he was, had rushed off alone, hoping to rescue Sally and herfather single-handed, and that he had been kidnapped with them. Iforgot to tell you that Barclay, our Surgeon, had found the bullet inthe body of the mutilated Chinaman, and that it was a service Webleyrevolver bullet, so it was quite possible that Travers had shot him.There probably had been a scuffle, and the Mission servant, not beingworth capturing, had been killed and mutilated to prevent recognition.
&nbs
p; We all were so worried and depressed, that two days of strenuous work,coaling ship from a collier, and another day of cleaning shipafterwards, came as a welcome relief. It's precious seldom that one doeswelcome that job, but we did then.
For some long time I had not heard the noise of the gunroom piano.Someone or other would be banging it at all hours of the day, and as thegunroom was immediately beneath my cabin, the noise was a continualsource of annoyance to me. My messenger used to be always taking downfiery messages to the Sub, Langham. The absence of this noise was now ablessed relief, and when I mentioned it to Langham, he asked me to godown and see for myself the reason of it. I went down, and found thatthe piano was shut, and that _Vigilant_ cap-ribbons had been gluedacross, to prevent it being opened. "Miss Hobbs was the last to playit, sir, and the Mids and all of us have sworn that no one shall play itagain till she does, and till she cuts those ribbons with the seniormid's dirk."
"Who suggested that?" I asked, smiling.
"Mr. Langham, sir," several of the mids cried; but he, getting red inthe face, said it was Hamilton, the Engineer, and he put it on to Moore,the A.P., so I left them settling the subject, and only too glad thatthe piano was so effectually sealed.
I think that everyone did feel, as the gunroom did, that some day weshould see them all aboard again--Travers, with his mad, chivalrousnotions and "tired" manner, and the pretty little girl, with her winsomeface and funny twang.
At the end of the third week after the fire at Tinghai, the UnitedStates gun-vessel, the _Omaha_, came down to place herself under theSkipper's orders and assist us in our search. She was larger than ourgunboats, very much more modern, and was rather quaint looking, with onemast and an enormously long, thin smoke-stack.
"If that chap comes along here giving Old Lest advice, Old Lest will----Umph!" the Skipper growled when she was sighted.
Her captain, a man named Parkinson, was a tall, gaunt, disappointed man,with grey hair, and as old as Captain Lester himself, though actuallyjunior in rank to me. He came across to report himself, and I heard himsay, "Guess my boys thought the old _Omaha_ was a fixture in the'chow-chow' water at Shanghai, and our mud-hook could never be hauledout again. Say, Captain, we are right pleased to come and assist you."
He was sent away cruising.
Another weary week went by, and still no news came.
Then it turned out--one of the gunboats actually caught them at it--thatthose war junks, on which the Skipper relied so greatly for information,simply went out of harbour, round the corner, and hid in a neighbouringcreek till their provisions ran out, and they had to come back again formore.
This news put the finishing touches to the Skipper's bad temper, and hewas mad with rage, and sent for the Taotai at once.
"Umph! A pretty how d'ye do! Those lumbering junks of yours simplyskulk out of sight round a corner," he roared; and when this had beeninterpreted to the Taotai--I wondered how much the interpreterunderstood and passed on correctly--the frightened old man gesticulatedfeebly, and then out it came: "Taotai speaks, sir! If junks caught byPilons, he makee buy new ones--he no caree."
So that was it, was it--the old chap didn't intend to risk losing them?He was given so much a year to keep so many in good order, and if onewas lost he would have to replace it. No wonder that we could gain noinformation from them.
You should have seen--and heard--the Skipper when he understood this,and you should have seen the old Taotai hurry down to his state barge,hide under his red umbrella, and shove off for the shore--glad enough hewas to get away, too.
Late that evening the Skipper sent for me. He was beaming all over hisface, puffing out his cheeks and working his shoulders, as I hadn't seenhim do for a fortnight. He banged me on the chest and nearly knocked meover. "Willum, where the dickens is Willum? Willum, you scoundrel!bring the Commander one of my eighteen-penny Havanas," he roared.
It was half past eleven; I wanted to turn in, and didn't care to smoke,but it had to be done.
"Hit on a scheme, Truscott; I'll wipe the old Taotai's eye; I'm going toput our own people aboard those junks, and see if we can't make themuseful like that. Umph! What d'you say to that?" and he thumped thetable with his huge fist, and glared at me.
"Six of 'em I'm going to take."
"Won't the old chap object, sir?" I asked.
"Object! I'll teach him to object! He's got it down in black and whitefrom his boss at Ningpo to put all his forces at our disposal," and theSkipper winked at me from behind a cloud of blue cigar smoke. "He'll bepretty sorry he tried to pull Old Lest's leg before he's done with me.Umph! Our only sporting chance is to catch some of these rascals, andI'm not going to be too particular how I get information from 'em when Ido catch 'em."
Fortunately the _Huan Min_ came in that night, and Ching helped usnegotiate with the old gentleman in the walled city. He, I am certain,did his best; but he told me, very candidly, that if we persisted in ourdemands, we should touch their pride very greatly, and that it wouldincrease the already hostile feeling of the Chinese towards us, andwould very possibly prevent any information coming in from privatesources.
Captain Lester was much annoyed at the attitude he took up, and alwaysthought that he was the cause of what happened, though, personally, I amsure that he had acted honestly by us. At any rate, the Skipper hadblurted out, "If he won't lend 'em to Old Lest, Old Lest'll borrow 'em;"and somehow or other this threat got to the Taotai's ears, and so scaredthe old gentleman, that next morning not a war junk remained in harbour.
Ching came across directly, and protested that neither he nor hisCaptain had any knowledge of their going to sea. I believed him, and sodid everyone, except the Skipper, who flew into a terrible rage, and Iwas very glad to get Ching away and soothe his ruffled feelings, butcould not induce him to stay to breakfast.
"Made a fool of Old Lest again, have they? Umph! I'll--I'll--" hestuttered and bellowed when I reported "divisions" to him, "I'll do 'emyet. I'll buy half a dozen of their big merchant junks and man 'emmyself! Old Lest'll sell a farm or two, if the Admiralty don't pay for'em."
"D'you mean that, sir?" I asked.
"D'you ever hear me say anything I didn't mean?" he roared; and though Imust confess I had done so, I dare not say so.
I slipped away directly in my gig, and went across to the old _HuanMin_. I saw her Captain and Ching pacing gloomily up and down the poop,and it was very pleasant to see their faces open out again when theyheard the news, and that their country's honour was not to be disturbed.
Ching gripped me by the hand--"You English, sir,"--and the muscles ofhis face were working strangely--"do not understand how these things,these slights, and--these little insults to our country hurt us. Allyou Western nations think we have no such love and pride of country asyou have, and do not feel it. We do, sir! We do!"
I have always been glad that I did go aboard that morning, for my ideasof the Chinese were very much changed.
Ching himself came of a very old fighting stock--his people had alwaysbelonged to a high military caste, and his father had fought against theFrench well and nobly. He himself--Lawrence had told me this--had foughtagainst the Japanese in the Yalu battle, and when all his seniorofficers had been killed, and his ship almost a wreck, had taken her outof action and staggered across to Wei-hai-wei, keeping the lightcruisers, which hung round him, at a respectful distance with the onegun that was able to fire.
Japanese naval men had told me the story, in admiration of his pluckyship, but it was not till Lawrence told me that I knew who had commandedher.
I knew Ching a good deal better after that. He had done more fightingthan I ever hoped to have the luck to do, and when one's job is tofight, and one gets paid to keep oneself ready for it, one alwaysadmires a man who has earned his pay.
Ching took me into his cabin once, a strange kind of barn, half Chineseand half English, with two old faded photographs hanging on thebulkheads, one of the _Inflexible_ and the other of her Mids, Ching inthe middl
e, and Lawrence, a fat little chubby-faced youth, by his side.
I often chaffed Lawrence about that photo--he looked so angelic.
