Volume One--Chapter One.

In the Pearl River.

“Bill!”

“Aye, aye, bo!”

“Guess this’ll be a rum v’yage, mate.”

“Why, old shellback?”

“’Cause I can’t make out why we are wasting our time here, with the cargo all aboard and the wind fair.”

“Don’t you fret yourself about that, Jem Backstay. The skipper knows what he’s a-doing, and has got a heap o’ ’sponsibility on them shoulders o’ his’n—a fine ship and a valuable cargo to get home safe to old h’England with a short crew, and a lot o’ murderin’, blood-suckin’ pirates all over the h’Indian seas!”

“Pirates, Bill!”

“Ay, pirates! I spoke plain enough, didn’t I? But you needn’t shiver in your skin like one of them white-livered Lascars we’ve got aboard in place of honest sailors, worse luck! You needn’t have no cause to fear for the number o’ your mess, bo; the cap’en—God bless him!—will see us safe through, you may be sure.”

“Right you are, Bill; you know the old man better nor I, and I s’pose he’s taking cautions like?”

“No fear, mate. He’s got his head screwed on right enough, my bo.”

“And that’s the reason, p’raps, he’d that long palaver with the admiral’s flagship afore we come up the river?”

“Ay,” said Bill sententiously; “may be so.”

“Well, Bill, if so be there’s pirates about, they might do a’most as they likes wi’ us, for I don’t think there are three cutlasses aboard, and ne’er a musket as I can see, and only powder enough to fire off that little popgun there to summons a pilot.”

“Aye,” answered the other nonchalantly.

The Hankow Lin was lying in the Pearl River, off Whampoa, some twelve miles below Canton, to which anchorage all sailing vessels having business at this port of the Celestial Empire are restricted by the mandarins, only steamers being permitted to ascend the reaches of the river to the city proper and anchor in front of Shah Mien, the English settlement.

The vessel had shipped all her tea and silk, which formed a valuable cargo; and, with her anchor hove short, so that she seemed to ride just over it, and her topsails loose all handy to let fall and sheet home, she appeared ready to start at a moment’s notice on her homeward voyage—down the ugly Canton River and across the pathless Indian seas and the miles of weary ocean journey that lay between her and her final destination, “the tight little island,” with its now historical “streak of silver sea,” supposed to guard it from Continental invasion.

What delayed the Hankow Lin?

Ah! her captain could tell perhaps, for it might be taken for granted that there was some urgent reason for his remaining here with no possible object to gain when his cargo was stowed and the ship homeward-bound. The seamen could make nothing of it, however; and there was much grumbling forwards at this unlooked-for hitch in their departure from the land of “chin chins” and “no bony Johnny.”

Jem Backstay, who was a stalwart, able-bodied seaman, and as smart a “hand” as could be found in a day’s cruise, did not appear at all convinced by what his chum Bill, the boatswain, had said, for he returned again to the conversation after the latter had apparently ended it with his monosyllabic “aye.”

“Lor’, mate!” said he, “I thinks your old brains are wool-gathering about pirates. I’ve been sailing in these here China seas since I were no higher than your thumb and I never see none.”

“Haven’t you?” muttered the other disdainfully.

“No, never a one.”

“And you’ve never seen none of ’em h’executed, as I have, at Canton, in batches of a dozen or more?”

“No, Bill; how does they do it?”

“Why, mate, they makes the beggars all kneel down in a row, with their hands tied behind them so that they can’t put ’em up. Then a chap comes along—I s’pose he’s called their Jack Ketch—and he carries a sword that’s partly made like a cutlass and partly like a butcher’s cleaver, with which he slices off all their heads like so many carrots.”

“Lor’!”

“Yes, bo; and the funny thing is to see this executioner chap going along behind all the kneeling figures, afore he knocks their heads off, and pulling this one here and a-shovin’ that one theer, so arrangin’ on ’em that he can have a clean stroke when he ups with his sword.”

“Lor’!” exclaimed the other on hearing this description.

“Yes, bo, it’s all true as gospel what I’m a-tellin’ on you. The hangman chap don’t seem to make no more account of them poor devils than if they wos so many wooden dummies, like them ‘Quaker guns’ as they call—cos they can’t hurt nobody, I s’pose—that them silly artful Chinese mounted in the Bogue forts to frighten us, as they thought, when we went to war with ’em last time, you know.”

“But, talkin’ about h’executions, Bill, ain’t talkin’ of pirates, is it, bo? P’raps those poor ignorant chaps you seed have their heads chopped off mightn’t no more a’ been pirates than you or I.”

“Mightn’t they!” ejaculated the boatswain of the Hankow Lin in the most indignant tones. “Much you know about it, you son of a sea-cook, that’s all! Why, Jem, I could tell you stories about them cut-throats of the sea in these here waters as would make your hair stand on end. No pirates in the China seas, you say, my joker?”

“I didn’t say as there wasn’t any. I said as there mightn’t ha’ been.”

“Well, and wot’s the difference, I’d like to know?”

“Belay that, and bouse away, old ship, with that yarn o’ yours that’s going to fright my hair off. I ain’t quite frightened yet, I tell you.”

“Wait a minute, then, bo,” said the other, who was suddenly called aft by the officer of the watch to have some order given him for the morning which had been forgotten; and on his return to the foc’s’le Jem was all attention for him to proceed with his promised yarn about the real pirates of whom he had spoken, the worthy seaman continuing to express a strong disbelief in their entity.

“Heave ahead with that ’ere story o’ yourn,” he said.

“Don’t you know, you onbelievin’ swab, as how the Singapore mail steamer was nearly as possible plundered by a whole gang o’ them gettin’ aboard of her as make-believe passengers and then setting fire to her and plundering the cargo, and that this occurred only last year?”

“No, I never heerd tell of it,” said Jem.

“Well, I think I’ve got a noospaper in my ditty-box down below as will tell you all about it, and then, p’r’aps, you’ll feel as if you’d believe there wos sich things as pirates.”

So saying, the boatswain bustled down into the forecastle, and shortly reappeared above, holding a rather dirty crumpled piece of printed paper in his hand, which he handed to Jem.

“There,” he said, “take that and read for yourself.”

The brawny seaman turned it over and over with a solemn face, and then handed it back to the other.

“I ain’t no scholard,” he observed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully; “wish I was, ’twould ha’ been pounds in my pocket now if I could read and write as I once did when I war a little shaver, but I’ve clean forgot it. You reel off the yarn as is printed there, Bill; and then I’ll tell you what I think of it.”

“All right, then,” replied the boatswain, nothing loth to display his superior attainments. “Here goes for a full and true ’count of a tremenjuous piretical plot to seize a mail steamer, from a special despatch of our ’Ong Kong correspondent;” and, holding the dirty scrap of paper at arm’s-length, as if he were somewhat afraid of it, he went on to read the following extract from it.

“The China papers received by the last mail contain full accounts of an attempt made to seize and plunder the Eastern and Australian Mail Steam Company’s steamer Bowen by a party of Chinese who had embarked on board the vessel at Singapore as passengers. The following is extracted from the ship’s report:—

“On the 8th of June, at 1:30 PM, in latitude 13 degrees 09 minutes north and longitude 111 degrees 20 minutes east, Cheang Sioy, Chinese interpreter, reported that the Singapore passengers, forty-two in number, were pirates, and intended setting fire to and plundering the ship, as they had been overheard talking to this effect. An examination was then made below, but the Singapore Chinese passengers were so scattered among 313 Australian Chinese passengers that they could not be readily identified. The interpreter was then ordered to pick them out and muster them and their effects on the poop-house. He first brought up eight or ten choppers, a house-breaking tool, and a box, for all of which no owners could be found. On opening the box it was found to contain twenty-five packages of powder, about one pound weight each, all with a fuse attached. As the matter seemed serious, all hands were mustered and armed, and the Singapore Chinese brought up and secured. A further search disclosed another box containing eleven loaded revolvers of different sorts and sizes, also a large quantity of ammunition to fit the same, a bundle of touch-paper, and a Chinese ship’s compass. On examining the Singapore Chinese passengers, seventeen gave a satisfactory account of themselves; but twenty-five, who could not do so, and had neither money nor luggage, were put into a place of safety with an armed guard over them night and day until arrival, when they were handed over to the authorities in Hong Kong.”

“Is that all?” asked Jem, whose scepticism regarding Chinese pirates this printed account appeared somewhat to shake.

“That’s all the steamer’s log-book say, bo,” replied the boatswain; “but the newspaper tells further on as how the beggars was brought up for trial.”

“Let us have it, then,” said Jem, bending forward to listen to what the other went on to read in a deep sepulchral voice—

“Twenty-six Chinamen were brought before the sitting magistrate at the Hong Kong police-court on the 11th of June, when Captain Miller of the Bowen gave evidence. He stated that the vessel carried the Queensland mail to Singapore and Hong Kong, and vice versa. It also carried the mails to and from Hong Kong. The passengers are Chinese gold-diggers, and have bullion about them. Every voyage the vessel carries a large amount of gold; on the present trip they had ten boxes of the value of about £10,000. This was the cargo, and had nothing to do with what the passengers had. The captain continued:—

“At Singapore we took in forty-two Chinese passengers, who came on board the morning we left. Our Singapore agents had received a telegram from Hong Kong, warning them to be careful of what passengers I took. After leaving Singapore, all went well until about half-past one o’clock PM, on the 8th inst, when near the Faracel Reefs. The chief officer then came and told me that the Singapore Chinese passengers were pirates, and intended to set fire to and plunder the ship. In consequence of this, I went with the chief officer and interpreter to examine the steerage passengers. I found a difficulty in separating the Singapore passengers from the Australians, as they were so mixed. I then ordered a gang to pick them out and bring them on the poop with their luggage, for examination. The interpreter knew where the Singapore passengers were stowed, and he there found ten choppers, and beneath the forecastle, where eight of the passengers were, he found a box. I ordered the carpenter to open this box, which was locked, and which no one claimed, and found on the top beneath some clothes, twenty-five packages with a fuse attached to each. After counting the packages, I kept one as a sample, and threw the remainder with the box overboard. I did that as I was rather afraid to keep so much loose powder on board. I next called all hands and turned all the Chinese passengers on deck. We then searched the place where they had been, and the box containing eleven loaded revolvers and a quantity of ammunition was produced. I questioned all the passengers, and seventeen of the Singapore passengers had luggage and dollars, and they gave a satisfactory account of themselves. The prisoners had no property or money. They could or would not tell what they had been doing in Singapore, or

give any account of themselves. I then locked them in the mail room—which is of iron—and placed an armed guard over them.”

“There, now, what do you think o’ them murderin’ rascals now?” asked the boatswain when he had concluded reading the newspaper extract.

“What do I think o’ them, hey? Well, I thinks they ought to ha’ been keel-hauled, that’s what I thinks! Was these the chaps whose heads you’d saw chopped off at Canton?”

“No, no, man, this here occurred at Hong Kong; couldn’t you hear wot I read, bo?”

“I s’poses it’s all true, seein’ how’t is in print; and if so, mate, why I s’pose you’re right about there bein’ pirates hereabouts arter all?”

“Yes, sure, my hearty. Why, look here, Jem, it’s solemn truth I’m tellin’ you,” and the boatswain looked as grave as a judge when speaking, as if to substantiate his words—“only t’other day there was a fine clipper tea-ship, just like ourn, that got becalmed off Hainan island in the Gulf of Tonquin, when, in less nor half an hour arter the wind failed, a lot o’ junks sculled up to her and opened fire on the crew with their cussed jinghals and matchlocks; and, if it hadn’t a’ been fur a breeze a springin’ up as let ’em make sail and get away from the pirates, why the ship would ha’ been captured and sunk after they had taken everything they cared for out of her; and only last year—just you hark to this, Jem Backstay—an English brigantine, bound for the northern ports, was attacked by pirate junks not a hundred miles from Hong Kong—jist think of the impudent rascals having the cheek to come so near us!—and the captain and mate were murdered, the rest of the crew escaping by taking to one of the boats!”

“Well,” said Jem to this, “I hopes we won’t come nigh any on ’em, if there be any sich like as pirates about, as I’ve said afore. I don’t want to lose the number o’ my mess yet awhile!”

“Never you fear, Jem,” returned the other; “our old man’s as ’cute as they make them, out here; and if there’s anything to keep a sharp look-out for, why he’s all there!”

Volume One—Chapter Two.

Dark Suspicions.

At this moment, the conversation between the two was again interrupted by Bill the boatswain starting up from the hawser on which he was sitting alongside of Jem Backstay on the topgallant forecastle. “Hallo!” he exclaimed, “I wonder what that ugly beggar of a Malay is prowling about forward for? He’s smelling about them water-casks as came aboard yesterday—he means mischief!”

“Lordsakes, Bill,” said Jem, “you’ve so got them pirates on the brain that you can think of nuthin else!—Do leave the poor yaller devil alone, I’m sure he ain’t up to no harm!”

“Ain’t he?” said Bill scornfully. “You jest look arter your own bizness. Hallo, you Lascar!” he shouted out aloud to the object of his attention; “Hallo, you Lascar! leave that ’ere cask alone; d’ye hear!”

The man, a short, thick-set, black-haired, and yellow-visaged native—who had been apparently endeavouring to unloosen the lashings of the tarpaulin cover of one of six large hogsheads like water-casks that were placed along the gangway of the ship and securely fastened between the ports—started at the sound of Bill’s voice; and, seeing that his eye was fixed on him, pretended slily for a moment to be intently gazing out seawards, and then slunk stealthily along the deck more aft to the bitts of the mainmast, where a group of his tawny fellow-countrymen were gathered together away from the rest of the crew—squatting on their haunches, and gabbling away at a great rate.

“Blow them yaller imps!” said the boatswain to his companion as the native retreated out of earshot. “I don’t like ’em, for they’re a treach’rous lot, and would knife you as soon as look. Why, as you know, Jem, they won’t obey no orders, even from the cap’en, ’cept through their own serang, or chief—ourang-outang I think’d be a better name for him, the ugly beast! And if you was to strike one with a rope’s end—if only in lark, mind you, to make him move quicker—why, you’d be a dead man ’fore morning, safe as houses! I shouldn’t like, mate, for you and me to be the only white men aboard with that ’ere rascal lot of Lascars on the high seas, my hearty! We’re short-handed as it is, with only four men in each watch, barrin’ Snowball the cook and the officers, which makes us twelve white men in all, besides little Jack Harper—for I count Snowball as one of us, although he is a niggur; and there are twenty of them Lascars altogether and their chief. Howsomedevers, Jem, I’ve spoke to the cap’en, beggin’ his pardin for the liberty, an’ he told me as how he was a lookin’ out and not unmindful; so, bo, it’s all right, you see.”

“And you think, Bill, the skipper’s goin’ to bring off some more hands like us?”

“I don’t think nothin’ about it, Jem Backstay. When the cap’en tells me it’s all right, I knows it’s all right; and that’s enough for me! Heave an eye out to starboard, mate; ain’t that a light on shore, like a signal or something?”

“Ay, ay!” replied the other, drawing himself up to all the height of his six feet, and stretching out his brawny arms lazily as he peered over the bows through the hazy light, for the sun had just set, and the shore could only be faintly distinguished in the distance. “Aye, aye, my hearty! A light it is for certain.”

“Then it’s the cap’en, sure!” said Bill; “he’s late to-night. I hope we’ll start our anchor at last; I’m tired o’ this Canton River.”

“Foc’s’le, ahoy!” at the same moment shouted out Mr Scuppers, the first mate, from the poop, where he was pacing to and fro with young Jack Harper, the midshipman.

“Aye, aye, sir!” shouted out in answer Bill and Jem together.

“You are awake, are you? I thought you were all asleep! Hoist up a lantern at the fore, to show the cap’en where we are, it’s getting quite dark; and see if that Snowball’s asleep in the galley; tell him it’s six bells, and time for my coffee.”

The negro cook, however, was awake for a wonder, and heard the mate’s message, thus saving the trouble of its being repeated to him.

“Yah, yah! me no sleep, Massa Scuppers,” he called out with that cheerful good humour that seems characteristic of the darky race, and which seems proof against any ill treatment;—“me jus’ goin’ brin’ coffee, sah, yes sah! It am lubly hot, massa, and ’trong as carthoss!”

“Hot and strong is it, Snowball?” said the first mate in his hearty, jolly way, as the darky cook stepped gingerly past the group of Lascars, and handed the cup of coffee up to him on the poop, with an obsequious bow. “But, how is it you’re not asleep?”

“Best to be most circumspectious, massa, wid dem culled pussons aboard; no caulking wid dem nasty yaller gen’lemen for me!”

“Well, that’s a good un!” laughed Mr Scuppers; “the pot calling the kettle black with a vengeance!”

“You mistake sah,” said Snowball with dignity. “I knows, Massa Scuppers, I isn’t ’xactly like you white gen’lemen; but den I isn’t a nasty mulatto like dem poor trash; and dey isn’t to be trusted!”

“Perhaps you’re right, Snowball; but we ought not to suspect them till we’ve found them out, you know.”

After another turn or two on deck, Mr Scuppers cabled the boatswain to him,—

“Martens,” said he, “have those Lascars turned in yet?”