Blue Jackets: The Log of the Teaser

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  REPAIRING DAMAGES.

  For some moments I could not believe it true, and I stood on the thwartand gazed carefully round, scanning every fragment of the wreck in theexpectation of seeing some trick to deceive us--men lying flat with onlytheir faces above the surface of the water, and holding on by sweep orbamboo with one hand. But in a very short time we were all certain thatnot a living being was near; of the dead there were several, as we foundon rowing here and there. One, as he was turned over, seemed to beperfectly uninjured, but the others displayed ghastly wounds in face,neck, and breast, showing how horribly fierce had been the encounter inwhich they had been engaged.

  Satisfied at last that our task was at an end, the word was given, andthe men began to row back to the _Teaser_, which still lay sotransformed in appearance, as seen from a distance, that I was thinkingthat it was no wonder that the pirates had been deceived, when one ofthe men, forgetful of all the horrors through which we had passed, ofhis wounded comrade, and the dangerous prisoners under his feet, burstout into a merry fit of laughter.

  "Say, lads," he cried, "we shall have a nice job to-morrow, to wash theold girl's face."

  The rest of the crew laughed in chorus, till the boatswain sternly badethem give way.

  "I doubt it," he said in a low voice to me. "I should say that thecaptain will do a little more to make her less ship-shape, ready for thenext lot."

  "But you don't think there are any more pirates, do you?"

  "More!" he said, looking at me in surprise. "Why, my lad, the coastswarms with them. We never hear a hundredth part of the attacks theymake. It is not only European vessels they seize, but anything thatcomes in their way. It strikes me, Mr Herrick, that we have only justbegun what may turn out a very successful cruise."

  Ten minutes later we were nearing the _Teaser_, and I saw the reason whywe could not see either of the other boats. They were swinging to thedavits, and we were therefore the last.

  Just then Mr Reardon hailed us.

  "How many men hurt?" he shouted between his hands.

  "Only one, sir; Barr--coxswain."

  "Badly?"

  "Oh no, sir," shouted the sufferer. "Bit of a scrat on the back."

  "How many prisoners?"

  "Four, sir."

  Then we were alongside, the boat was run up, and, after our wounded manhad been lifted out, I stepped on board, eager to know the result of theaction on the part of the other boats, and to learn this I went below,and found Barkins alone.

  "Well," I cried, "how many prisoners?"

  "Round dozen," he cried.

  "Any one hurt?"

  "Round dozen."

  "I know, twelve prisoners," I said impatiently. "I asked you how manywere hurt."

  "And I told you, stupid," he replied, "a round dozen."

  "What! a man wounded for every prisoner?"

  "That's it; and we shouldn't have taken any, the beggars were game forfighting to the last, if Mr Brooke hadn't given the word for them to beknocked on the head first with the thick end of the oars."

  "To stun them?"

  "Yes; and our lads got so savage after seeing their mates stabbed whentrying to save the brutes' lives, that they hit as hard as they could.They killed two of 'em, or we should have had fourteen."

  "How horrid!"

  "Horrid? Why, I enjoyed it," said my messmate. "When I saw poor oldBlacksmith--"

  "What!" I cried excitedly, "he isn't hurt?"

  "Not hurt? why, one yellow-faced savage, when poor old Smithy held outhis hand to pull him aboard, took hold of his wrist, and then reached upand stuck his knife right through the poor old chap's arm, and left itthere."

  "Poor old Smithy!" I cried huskily, and a choking sensation rose in mythroat. "I must go and see him."

  "No, you mustn't. I've just been, and they sent me away."

  "But where is he?"

  "Doctor's got him, and been mending him up. He has gone to sleep now."

  "Was he very bad?"

  "Stick a stocking-needle through your arm, and then square it, cube it,add decimal nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, andthen see how you feel."

  "Poor old boy!" I said; "I am sorry."

  "Well, so am I," said Barkins sourly; "but I don't keep on howling."

  "Did they take the blackguard prisoner?"

  "Well, they did, and hauled him aboard, but he was no good, and theypitched him overboard again."

  "Why?" I said wonderingly.

  "Why! because he was dead. Bob Saunders, that red-haired chap, was inthe stern-sheets helping to catch the beggars with hitches, and as soonas he saw the big yellow-faced wretch stick his knife into poor oldBlacksmith, he let drive at the brute with the boat-hook, twisted it inhis frock, and held him under water. He didn't mean to, but he wassavage at what he had seen, for the lads like Smithy, and he held thebeggar under water too long."

  I shuddered, and thought of the man being bayoneted from our boat, andMr Grey's narrow escape.

  "Your fellows behaved better, I s'pose?" said Barkins.

  "Not a bit," I said. "We've got a man stabbed just in the same way--"and I told him of our adventures.

  "They're nice ones," said Barkins sourly. "I don't think our chaps willwant to take many prisoners next time. But I say, what a crusher forthem--all four junks, and not a man to go back and tell the tale."

  "It's glorious," I cried, forgetting the horrors in our triumph.

  "For you," said Barkins sourly.

  "Why for me? You and poor old Smith did your part. Don't be so jollyenvious."

  "Envious? Come, I like that," he cried. "If you felt as if somethingred-hot was being stuck in your leg you'd feel envious too. You're theluckiest beggar that ever was, and never get hurt or anything."

  "No more do you," I said, laughing.

  "Oh, don't I? What do you call that, then?" he cried, swinging his legsround, for he was sitting with one of them under the table.

  To my horror and astonishment, I saw that his leg was bandaged, and ared stain was showing through.

  "Why, Tanner, old chap," I cried, catching his hand as my eyes wereblurred; "I didn't know you were hurt."

  He looked quite pleased at my weakness, and the emotion I showed.

  "Oh, it ain't much," he said, smiling and holding on to my hand verytightly; "but it pringles and sticks a bit, I mean stingles--no, Idon't! My tongue's getting all in a knot, it tingles and pricks a bit.I say, Gnat, old chap, you don't think those chaps carry poisonedknives, do you?"

  "What, like the Malays? Oh no."

  "I'm glad of that, because it made me feel a bit funky. I thought thisstinging might mean the poison spreading."

  "Oh no, don't think that," I cried; "and some one told me a Malay princesaid it was all nonsense about the knives being poisoned."

  "He did?"

  "Yes; he laughed, and said there was no need to poison them, they werequite sharp enough to kill a man without."

  "That depends on where you put it in," said Barkins grimly.

  "Yes," I said; "but what did the doctor say?"

  "What about?"

  "Your leg."

  "He hasn't seen it yet."

  "Why, Tanner," I cried, "you haven't had it properly bandaged."

  "No; I felt so sick when I got on board, that I sneaked off here to liedown a bit. Besides, he had poor old Blacksmith to see to, and theother chaps."

  "But didn't he see the bandage when you went there?"

  "No; there was no bandage then. It's only a bit of a scratch; I tied itup myself."

  "How was it?"

  "I don't hardly know. It was done in a scuffle somehow, when we had gotthe first prisoner in hand. He began laying about him with a knife, andgave it to two of our lads badly, and just caught me in the leg. It wasso little that I didn't like to make a fuss about it. Here, stop, don'tleave a chap. I want to talk to you."

  "Back directly," I cried, and I hurried on de
ck so quickly that I nearlyblundered up against Mr Reardon.

  "Manners, midshipman!" he said sharply. "Stop, sir. Where are yougoing?"

  "Doctor, sir."

  "What, are you hurt, my lad?" he cried anxiously.

  "No, sir, but poor Barkins is."

  "Bless my soul, how unfortunate! Mr Smith down too! Where is he?"

  I told him, and he hurried with me to the doctor, who was putting on hiscoat, after finishing the last dressing of the injured men.

  "Here, doctor," cried Mr Reardon sharply, "I've another man down--boy,I mean."

  "What, young Smith? I've dressed his wound."

  "No, no; Barkins has been touched too."

  "Tut, tut!" cried the doctor, taking up a roll of bandage. "Are theybringing him?"

  "No, sir; he's sitting by his berth. He tied up the wound himself."

  Without another word the doctor started off, and we followed to whereBarkins sat by the table with his back leaning against the side of hisberth, and as soon as he caught sight of us he darted a reproachful lookat me.

  "Oh, I say, Gnat," he whispered, "this is too bad." For the doctor hadraised the leg, and, after taking off the handkerchief, roughly tiedround just above the knee, made no scruple about slitting up the lad'strousers with an ugly-looking knife, having a hooky kind of blade.

  "Bad?" said Mr Reardon anxiously.

  "Oh dear, no," replied the doctor. "Nice clean cut. Sponge and water,youngster. Ha, yes," he continued, as he applied the cool, soft spongeto the bleeding wound, "avoided all the vessels nicely."

  "Gnat, old chap," whispered Barkins, as I half supported him, "pinch me,there's a good fellow."

  "What for?" I whispered back.

  "Feel sicky and queer. Don't let me faint before him."

  "Here, hallo! Barkins, don't turn like a great girl over a scratch--lower his head down, boy. That's the way. He'll soon come round. Eversee a wound dressed before?"

  "No, sir," I said, repressing a shudder.

  "Don't tease the boys, doctor," said Mr Reardon sharply; "get the wounddressed."

  "Well, I am dressing it, arn't I?" said the doctor cheerily, and as ifhe enjoyed his task. "I must draw the edges together first."

  He had taken what seemed to be a pocket-book from his breast and laid itopen, and as I looked on, feeling sick myself, I saw him really put inthree or four stitches, and then strap up and bandage the wound, just asBarkins came to and looked about wonderingly.

  "I didn't faint, did I?" he said anxiously.

  The doctor laughed.

  "There, lie down in your berth," he said. "Let me help you."

  He assisted my messmate gently enough, and then said laughingly--

  "One can dress your wound without having three men to hold you. I say,Reardon, isn't it waste of good surgical skill for me to be dressing theprisoners' wounds, if you folk are going to hang them?"

  "I don't know that we are going to hang them," said the lieutenantquietly. "Perhaps we shall deliver them over to the Chinese authoritiesat Wanghai."

  "What? My dear fellow, go and beg the captain to hang 'em at once outof their misery. It will be a kindness. Do you know what a Chineseprison is?"

  "No."

  "Then I do. It would be a mercy to kill them."

  "The Chinese authorities may wish to make an example of them so as torepress piracy."

  "Let 'em make an example of some one else. Eh? Bandage too tight, mylad?"

  "No, sir," said Barkins rather faintly. "The wound hurts a good deal."

  "Good sign; 'tis its nature to," said the doctor jocosely.

  "But--er--you don't think, sir--"

  "`That you may die after it,' as we used to say over cut fingers atschool. Bah! it's a nice clean honest cut, made with a sharp knife.Heal up like anything with your healthy young flesh."

  "But don't these savage people sometimes poison their blades, sir?"

  "Don't people who are wounded for the first time get all kinds ofcock-and-bull notions into their heads, sir? There, go to sleep andforget all about it. Healthy smarting is what you feel. Why, you'll beable to limp about the deck with a stick to-morrow."

  "Do you mean it, sir?"

  "Of course."

  Barkins gave him a grateful look, and Mr Reardon shook hands, nodded,and left us to ourselves for a moment, then the doctor thrust in hishead again.

  "Here, lads," he said, "Smith's all right, I've made a capital job ofhis arm. Your turn next, Herrick. Good-bye."

  This time we were left alone.