Killigrew and the Golden Dragon

by Jonathan Lunn

  Then Ingersoll was on him again, smashing at his face with his fists. Molineaux seized him by the throat and squeezed. As Ingersoll’s eyes bulged from their sockets, Molineaux managed to push him off and roll on top, but then Ingersoll lifted his knee sharply into Molineaux’s crotch. Fire blazed through his loins. The two of them tumbled over and over on the deck until they fell down the hatch to the orlop deck.

  The water broke their fall. Cold sea water: it surged along the deck as it rushed in through a breech in the hull. Floundering, Molineaux and Ingersoll broke apart to find their feet. The water was only waist deep, but it was rising fast. Realising the ship was sinking, Molineaux turned and tried to climb back up the companion ladder, but Ingersoll caught him by the belt and dragged him down. Then he got both his hands around Molineaux’s neck from behind and forced his head underwater.

  Chapter 20

  The Death of the Golden Dragon

  As Li Cheng fell he braced himself for the bone-breaking impact of the deck, but it never came. Instead something caught his ankle and almost tore out his leg. He found himself dangling upside down thirty feet above the deck, his foot caught in the foot-rope of the crazily canted foreyard.

  Below he could see Bannatyne shouting furiously at Verran. The tai-pan pointed up to where Li dangled. Verran nodded and began to ascend the ratlines.

  Li swung against the limp foresail. He could not get a grip on the canvas to pull himself up. He panicked for a moment, and then his scrabbling fingers found a reef point and gripped it. He pulled himself up with one hand, found another reef point with the other and then disentangled his foot from the foot-rope. His legs swung down and he hung the right way up at last.

  As he tried to climb back on to the foreyard the ship juddered and canted suddenly, swinging him out with the dangling yard. Verran, halfway up the ratlines, was almost thrown overboard but managed to hang on. Below, Bannatyne and the sailors were hurled to the deck. On either side of the bows, Li could see the breakers boiling white where they surged over the reef. Her bows impaled on the reef, the Golden Dragon began to settle in the water.

  Verran resumed his ascent. Li swung himself back on to the foreyard and climbed up to where it was trussed to the mast. Just as he reached the platform at the foretop Verran thrust his cutlass at him up through the lubber’s hole. The razor-sharp steel sliced through the flesh of Li’s calf. He gasped, jumped clear and caught hold of the shrouds which led up to the cross-trees at the peak of the fore topmast. He began to climb, and Verran climbed up after him.

  A series of bangs sounded above the pounding of the waves as they smashed the stricken vessel against the reef. Li glanced aft and saw the panes of glass in one of the skylights below shatter as the flames in the cabin roared against them.

  He had reached the cap of the fore topmast. Still gripping his cutlass, Verran continued his ascent. ‘No place left to run, my slant-eyed friend!’

  Li glanced about desperately. The only other way off the fore topmast was via one of the two ropes that ran from the yard-arm ends of the fore topgallant yard to the main topmast crosstrees. There were only two questions: would one of them be strong enough to bear his weight; and could he make it to the mainmast before Verran sliced through the rope and sent him plunging to the deck far below?

  * * *

  Molineaux was not drowning, but he was not far from it, either. He had managed to get his lungs half-full of air before Ingersoll pushed his head under. Now he floundered about, unable to gain purchase with either hands or feet as Ingersoll kept up the relentless pressure.

  His knuckles brushed against something solid: a hand-rail. He searched for it with his fingertips, found it again, got a good grip, and then pulled himself further under.

  It was the last thing Ingersoll could have expected and it caught him completely off guard. His hands locked right mound Molineaux’s neck, he found himself dragged under the fast-rising water before he had a chance to take any air into his lungs.

  Molineaux held on tight to the floor timbers, gambling on there being more air left in his own lungs than there had been in Ingersoll’s. The pain in his chest grew tighter and tighter, until he felt he must burst if he did not breathe in now. But Ingersoll’s fingers still dug into his neck from behind. Perhaps he had miscalculated. Perhaps Ingersoll still had his head above water.

  Molineaux could not hold out much longer. He felt his vision misting, his strength giving out. He allowed himself to go limp, hoping to trick Ingersoll into thinking he was dead.

  And then the hands were gone. Molineaux surfaced and banged his skull on the low deck head, but he did not mind that, he was just grateful to whoop that sweet, fetid air into his lungs.

  Ingersoll was already wading through the chest-deep water towards the companion ladder. Molineaux went after him but the water impeded his every step. By the time he reached the ladder Ingersoll had slammed down the hatch cover from above.

  Molineaux climbed up the companion ladder and pounded on the underside of the hatch cover, but Ingersoll had made it fast. Molineaux climbed back down to the deck. Lf he could get forward he knew there would be another way up beyond the hold.

  The water was shoulder-high now and he was fighting against the torrent that rushed in. He half-swam, half-pulled himself through the engine room. When he reached the door to the hold he had to duck his head under the water, but there was more headroom on the other side. Chests of opium were stacked high on either side. He swam down the gangway between them until he reached the ladder to the main hatch on the far side. As he climbed up out of the water Ingersoll appeared above him and reached for the hatch cover.

  Molineaux grabbed him by the ankle. Ingersoll lost his balance and fell through the hatch. The two of them plunged into the water which swirled furiously between the opium chests. They turned to face one another in the chin-deep water. Ingersoll’s hand came up out of the water and Molineaux realised that the white man had retrieved his Bowie knife. He tried to step back and tripped over some unseen obstruction on the submerged deck. He backed into a stack of chests. Ingersoll slashed at his face with his own knife.

  Molineaux ducked beneath the water to avoid the thrust. He caught Ingersoll around the waist and drove him back. Something – possibly Ingersoll’s knee — bumped against his face. The water reduced the force of the blow, but it was still enough to enable him to break free before Molineaux could pull him under.

  The seaman surfaced. Ingersoll came at him again. stabbing this time. Molineaux backed into the stack of chests once more and noticed one of the ropes which held the chests in place had been slashed through by one of Ingersoll’s thrusts. Then the ship gave a lurch as the next breaker forced it deeper on to the reef. The chests at the top of the stack toppled forward. Molineaux pressed himself back against the chests below.

  Ingersoll saw his peril but it was too late He threw up his arms in a futile gesture and then the uppermost chest smashed down against him and drove him under the water. The chest bobbed up again almost at once. Ingersoll followed a moment later, floating on his back. The Bowie knife had been driven into his heart.

  * * *

  ‘Time for number-two wu-yi demonstration.’ On the listing quaterdeck, Shen circled Killigrew. ‘Leopard punch!’ One hand whipped out and slammed into the lieutenant’s chest. He staggered back in agony. It felt as though his ribs had been driven through his lungs.

  ‘Venomous snake strikes vital point!’ Shen struck Killigrew beneath the armpit The lieutenant sank to his knees.

  ‘Crane drinks alongside stream!’ A fist slammed into Killigrew’s face, and he sprawled on his back. He rolled over and tried to crawl away.

  ‘Yellow oriole drinks water!’ A foot struck Killigrew in the ribs and knocked him on his side. Barely able to see through the waves of pain that swamped him, he crawled over to the taffrail and pulled himself to his feet.

  ‘Are you paying attention?’ Shen’s face looked demonic in the light of the flames that shot up through the
shattered skylight. ‘Civilised Chinese pay much money for this kind of schooling. Kicking the sky!’ He lifted his foot into the underside of the lieutenant’s jaw. Killigrew’s head snapped back and he almost went over the taffrail. He steadied himself just in time to receive Shen’s next attack.

  ‘Phoenix-eye punch!’ A fist smashed into Killigrew’s temple. He span away dizzily across the tilted deck. He knew he could not take much more of this beating.

  ‘Double tiger claws!’ Two more fists slammed into him with bone-jarring force. He staggered back again on legs like water. Every nerve end in his body was screaming at him to give up and lie down and die.

  Bracing his feet in an effort to stay upright on the canted deck, he faced Shen and wiped his sleeve across split lips. ‘You know we have martial arts in Britain, too?’

  Shen threw back his head and laughed. Killigrew summoned up the last reserves of his strength and grabbed him by the lapels.

  ‘Glaswegian kiss!’ Killigrew brought his forehead down sharply against the bridge of Shen’s nose. Dazed, the Chinese staggered back with blood gushing from his nostrils.

  ‘Ringsend uppercut!’ The lieutenant flicked a boot into Shen’s crotch. The Chinese doubled up in agony. Killigrew span him around to face the raging inferno which blazed up through the skylight.

  ‘Naval officer kicks hulking brute in backside!’ He slammed the sole of his boot against Shen’s buttocks. The Chinese staggered forwards, tripped over the skylight coaming and fell through with a scream.

  Holding one arm across his brow against the intense heat, Killigrew squinted down into the flames. He saw Shen in the cabin below. The comprador picked himself up and staggered about for a few moments, but his clothes were on fire and the smoke and flames blinded him. He blundered about for a few seconds, then finally slumped to the deck and lay down to die.

  Breathing hard, Killigrew stumbled over to the bulwark and clung on to it for support. A moment later a dripping wet Molineaux emerged from the main hatch and staggered over to join him. Everyone else on deck was either dead or unconscious ‘You oh-kay, sir?’

  Killigrew nodded. ‘Did you find Mrs Bannatyne?’ he asked desperately as the deck gave another shudder.

  ‘No, sir. Where’s Li Cheng?’

  They both looked about. The only signs of life were in the rigging. Li clung to the fore topgallant yard at the peak of the foremast. Verran climbed up the rigging towards him, cutlass in hand, but Li seemed more interested in one of the fore topgallant braces.

  ‘He’s going to climb across to the mainmast!’ gasped Molineaux.

  ‘He’ll never make it’ Killigrew said grimly. ‘Verran will cut it before he gets halfway…’

  Both of them were assuming that Li would haul himself along the brace hand over hand. Both of them were wrong.

  Li got his feet on the fore topgallant yard and stood up, spreading his arms for balance. Then he stepped out on to the brace like a tightrope walker. ‘Jesus Christ!’ exclaimed Molineaux. ‘He’s crazy!’

  Li started to walk along the brace; no, he started to run across it.

  Muda and MacGillivray ascended the ratlines on either side of the mainmast to meet the Chinese at the other end. ‘We’d better go and help him,’ said Molineaux.

  Killigrew had had more than enough for one night, but he could hardly stand by and allow the young Chinese to be butchered. As Molineaux scrambled up the ratlines to port, Killigrew ascended on the opposite side. The Golden Dragon was heeling over to starboard and Killigrew’s climb was almost vertical as he pursued MacGillivray, but he forced himself onwards and upwards.

  The wind blew Li off balance. He teetered for a moment and Killigrew watched with his heart in his mouth. Somehow the Chinese regained his poise and made it to the cap of the main topmast.

  Killigrew caught up with MacGillivray, grabbed him by the belt and plucked him from the ratlines. The engineer fell with a scream and was swallowed up by the breakers which surged across the reef.

  Muda was only a few feet below Li in the main topgallant shrouds, climbing up with a kris between his teeth. Both Killigrew and Molineaux were too far below to catch him before he reached Li. Verran, meanwhile, crawled along the fore topgallant brace after the Chinese, his face twisted in a snarl of hatred.

  Li waited for Muda at the main topmast crosstrees. The Malay reached him, took his kris from his teeth, and slashed at his legs. Li kicked him in the wrist and the kris spun high into the air. Li dammed the sole of his slipper into Muda’s face and the Malay plummeted to the deck.

  Verran was almost two-thirds of the way along the brace. Li deftly caught Muda’s spinning kris by the haft. He swung himself around the topgallant mast and slashed at the brace. Verran stared at him in horror as the blade sliced through the rope. Still clinging on, he swung downwards, headfirst. He hit the mouth of the funnel and plunged down it with a hollow, echoing cry which was cut short as he plummeted into the furnace below.

  In the same instant his cutlass clattered to the deck.

  Killigrew and Molineaux shinned down the backstays to the deck. A moment later Li joined them and bowed. ‘I am sorry I killed your friend.’

  ‘That’s all right. I never liked him much anyway.’ Mindful that Bannatyne was still loose on board somewhere, Killigrew picked up Verran’s cutlass. ‘All right, search the ship. We’re not going until we find Mrs Bannatyne…'

  ‘Don’t bother,’ said the tai-pan. ‘She’s here.‘

  Killigrew, Molineaux and Li whirled. Blase Bannatyne stood behind his wife, the muzzle of a single-shot percussion pistol pressed against the underside of her jaw beneath her right ear. In his other hand he had a second percussion pistol pointed at Killigrew. The two of them were silhouetted by the blaze which now engulfed the whole of the stern. The ship’s timbers ground in her death throes as the waves pounded her against the reef.

  ‘Drop the sword!‘ snarled Bannatyne. ‘Now!’

  The tai-pan and his wife stood too far away for Killigrew, Molineaux or Li to be able to do anything. Raging with frustration. Killigrew threw down the cutlass so that it buried its point deep in the deck, the hilt quivering.

  Bannatyne laughed and took the first pistol my from his wife’s jaw to cover both Molineaux and Li. ‘You didn’t really think I’d shoot my own wife, did you?’

  It was Mrs Bannatyne who answered. ‘As a matter of fact, I did.’ She rammed an elbow into his stomach. He doubled up and dropped one of the pistols. With his free hand he threw her against the jolly boat stowed on deck.

  Killigrew lunged for him. Bannatyne fired and a white-hot needle bored through the flesh of the lieutenant’s shoulder. A moment later a final shudder threw them all to the deck as the ship was wrenched asunder with a splintering groan. The bows sank almost at once and the stern and midships section canted crazily. Li gave a cry and slipped down the smooth deck to be engulfed by the breakers. Killigrew managed to wrap one arm around the skid beams on which the jolly boat rested, and with the other he caught Molineaux by the wrist as he slid past.

  The waves rose slowly up the deck, tilted at an angle of fifty degrees Above them the blazing stern cast a hellish glow over the scene. As the ship sank deeper the tilt of the deck increased.

  Molineaux’s weight threatened to pull Killigrew’s arm from his socket. ‘Hang on!’ yelled Killigrew

  Above them, Mrs Bannatyne clung to a grating in the deck while her husband, further up the grating, tried to stamp on her fingers. ‘Mr Killigrew!’ she screamed. ‘Help!’

  ‘Sir!’ yelled Molineaux.

  Killigrew glanced down. The seaman jerked his head to where Bannatyne’s other pistol had wedged in one of the scuppers. ‘Swing me over!’

  The lieutenant started to swing Molineaux to and fro across the deck. At the furthermost reach of the swing, their grips broke. Molineaux bounced off the bulwark and slithered down the deck. He snatched at the pistol as he went and managed to catch hold of a set of pinrails a few feet above the rising water. One end o
f the pinrail broke away under his weight. ‘You’ll have to take the shot, sir! I can’t make it from here!’

  Killigrew nodded. Molineaux hurled the gun up the deck with all his might. The motion ripped the pinrail away completely and the seaman plunged down.

  The pistol skittered past Killigrew and he caught it even as he saw the water swallow up his friend. ‘Molineaux! No!’ he screamed in horror.

  The seaman did not reappear.

  Killigrew turned his attention back to where Bannatyne clung to the grating. He lost his grip and slid down to kick his wife in the face. She cried out and Killigrew braced himself to catch her, but she hung on to her husband’s ankles now. He caught hold of the grating further down. She scrabbled against the deck in search of a foothold while he kicked at her face again to free himself.

  Killigrew thought of Molineaux, and Peri, Li and Ultzmann, and of all the other people who had died thanks to Bannatyne’s machinations. There was no doubt in his mind that the tai-pan had lived too long. He drew a bead on him. ‘Mrs Bannatyne!’ he called. ‘Let go!‘

  ‘I daren’t!’ she sobbed.

  ‘Let go!’ he repeated. ‘I’ll catch you, I swear it! Trust me!’

  She let go and slid down the deck in a blossoming of petticoats. Killigrew fired and then dropped the pistol in time to catch her. Agony tore at his right arm where it gripped the skids and he distinctly felt the bone pop out of its socket. He cried out in pain.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  He gritted his teeth and nodded. He drew her in closer so she could grasp the skid beams for herself. They both looked up to where Bannatyne lay on his back, still clinging to the grating with one hand. He stared back at them in shock, and with one hand reached inside his coat. Killigrew thought he was reaching for another gun, but when the hand came out it was empty and glistened with blood in the firelight.

  Then the tai-pan lost his grip, slid down a few feet until his legs struck the first of the skid beams. His body pivoted outwards to roll down the deck to where Verran’s cutlass was still embedded. Killigrew buried Mrs Bannatyne’s battered face against his chest as the razor-sharp blade sliced her husband’s head clean off. Head and body bounced into the foaming breakers.