Stan Lynn: A Boy's Adventures in China

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

  "THE DANGEROUS TASK."

  It was none too soon, but soon enough, for as Stan rushed through, stillblowing the whistle--for no reason at all save that he had forgotten totake it from his lips--the plan enforced by Blunt in his instructionsacted like clockwork and the door was clapped to in the faces of theenemy with a sharp bang; half-a-dozen of the defenders stood fast withrifles presented ready to fire past the carpenters if there were need,and a doubt was rising in the breathless lad's breast. It was this:

  "Oh, if the others don't secure that farther door!" The doubt wasquelled by a second sharp bang, and a cheery voice--that of anotherdoubter--cried: "It's all right there."

  "Yes," cried Stan as he thrust the whistle back into his pocket."Splendidly done!"

  There was no further talking, for the noise outside was deafening. Theenemy, maddened at their check, were hard at work chopping franticallyat the door with their heavy swords, and stabbing at the panelling withspears in a way which threatened to make short work of it. But all thetime the right work was going on, the two great Chinese carpentersplacing the prepared short lengths of timber in their places as coollyas if nothing was the matter, and screwing them tightly with wonderfulcelerity, till the highest piece was being adjusted, when Stan pushedquickly past the men waiting to fire if the need arose, and made his wayto the farther door, to find, to his great delight, that the barricadingwas even further advanced than at the one he had left.

  "Well done!" he shouted, to make his voice heard above the horrible dinwithout. "Now one man will be enough to stay on guard here ready toraise the alarm if the enemy begin to get through; the rest off at onceto man the windows. Mind, don't waste a cartridge."

  Stan actually blushed in the semi-darkness as he gave the order in animperative voice, and then felt ashamed of himself for daring to orderthese men. But a strange feeling of exultation ran through him the nextmoment, and he felt the pride of power, for there was a hearty cheer,and his command was obeyed with such alacrity that he ran back, andfound the little party he had left waiting still as if for a similarorder.

  This was given loudly and quite as a matter of course, and from thatmoment Stan felt as if he really was in command, ready to do his best toprotect the place, and as if he had only to speak to find the defendersready to fight for him to the death.

  It is a strange thing, that natural readiness of the human being tofollow the lead of the one who leaps to the front and displays hiscontempt of danger, and it has often done work that history is proud torecord.

  "What next?" thought Stan as the last man dashed off, rifle in hand, toaugment the dropping fire from the carefully protected windows.

  The answer came from his heart quite silently: it was to go and see howBlunt had fared, and where he had been placed. But the intent wascrushed out by the orders that had been given him--by Blunt's own wordsabout his only being _one_, and that Stan was not to do anything tosacrifice many lives for the sake of looking after one wounded.

  His place, he knew the next moment, was to be on the upper floor,watching and directing, ready to send men here and there where thedanger was most pressing, and above all to be on the watch for the greatperil; and to this end he made his way to where the great water-casksstood ready filled, wishing to make sure that if the emergency arrivedthe coolies were at their posts ready to run here or there with bucketsof water.

  To his great delight, there they all were, every man stripped to thewaist and with a great ready-bared knife stuck through his girdle, readyto salute him with a broad smile and seize a bucket to plunge into theopen-ended casks.

  "No, no--not yet!" cried Stan authoritatively. "Be ready."

  A grunting murmur of satisfaction followed him as he hurried backtowards the broad stairs, at the foot of which the big carpenters andtheir two assistants stood, knife-armed like the rest, and having agreat moving crowbar resting with one end upon the floor.

  Stan was about to spring up the stairs with the intention of sending oneof the clerks to the office to report upon his chief's state, when heheard a shrill cry, and turning sharply, he became aware that Wing, inspite of his injuries, was up and dressed, and limping painfully in hisefforts to overtake him.

  "Ah, Wing!" he cried. "Up? You ought to be lying down out of danger."

  "Wing not lil bit 'flaid," said the man quickly. "Wing look see ifyoung Lynn allee light, quite well, casee you wantee know allee 'boutMisteh Blunt."

  "Yes, yes; I was going to send. I can't come yet," cried Stan eagerly.

  "Wing t'ink muchee jus' come tell young Lynn Misteh Blunt lie on back.Tablee. Close Wing. Wing see what matteh."

  "Yes, yes. Is he very bad?" cried Stan.

  "Dleadful bad," said the man solemnly. "Gottee big hole light flooheah."

  The position he denominated "heah" was pointed out by the Chinaman withhis two thumbs, one placed on his shoulder-blade, the other on the upperpart of his right chest.

  "Oh! that must be dangerous," cried Stan wildly.

  "Yes, velly bad," said Wing, frowning and shaking his head. "Wingfindee bullet lead inside py-yama."

  "And you have tried to bind it up?"

  Wing nodded importantly.

  "Bad place," he said. "Wind come out flont, blood lun out behind."

  "There must be a big bandage put over the place. Go and tear up asheet."

  "No," said Wing, still more importantly. "Gettee clean tablee-cloff--cuttee long piecee."

  "You have done that?"

  "Yes," said Wing, rather pompously now, as if exceedingly proud of hisknowledge. "Wing know allee 'bout it. Mend bloken leg oncee. Big tubfallee flom clane when wind um up. Fall on coolie leg. Poo' Chinaman.Wing mend leg. Misteh Blunt got hole floo heah,"--the thumbsillustrating again--"Wing get softee cotton, pushee piecee in flonthole, 'top wind come out; pokee piecee in back, keepee blood in. Alleeblood lun out, Masteh Blunt die velly fast."

  "But have you bandaged the place well?"

  "Bandage? Yes; tie velly long piece tablee-cloff lound and lound andoveh shouldeh. 'Top wind, 'top blood. Get well now."

  "Go and stop with him, Wing," cried Stan excitedly. "I can't come."

  "Wing know. Got tellee men how to fight."

  "Yes. Stop with Mr Blunt. You're a splendid fellow, Wing," cried Stanexcitedly.

  "Young Lynn glad Wing 'top place?"

  "Yes, I tell you. Capital! Off with you back."

  "Yes, Wing go back. T'ink young Lynn like know."

  Stan only heard a part of this, for the firing was going on furiously,the enemy were battering at the doors, and just then there was a crashand a heavy report.

  "They've begun to use the guns again," panted the lad as he sprang upthe broad warehouse stairs two at a time, to see half-way down the greatstore one of the windows wrecked as to its defences, bales and boardslying some feet in, the former tumbled over and the latter in splinters,while the two defenders who had been stationed there lay upon the floor.

  "They've got one of the biggest guns to bear on the window," said one ofthe defenders of the next window excitedly.

  Stan nodded and ran to the weakened place, to go down on one knee andlook out.

  He was not cautious enough, for he was seen from the deck of one of thejunks and saluted by a yell, followed directly after by the discharge ofsome half-dozen _jingals_, whose ill-directed bullets whistled by hisears.

  "Take care!" shouted three or four voices.

  "I should think I will," muttered Stan, dropping on his face, his riflestriking the floor with a bang. Then quickly drawing back, he gotbehind one of the bales that had been driven in, rested his rifle uponit, and raising his head cautiously, prepared to fire.

  For at his first look out he had seen all he wanted, and followingalmost directly upon the sharp clicking of his rifle-lock, the mannearest to him heard the lad draw a deep breath and fire.

  Stan's fresh companion peered from his side to see the object of thelad's sh
ot, and he uttered a loud "Bravo!" for Stan had continued hisformer luck, as, seeing that the gun on board the biggest junk was beingreloaded, and that the firing-match was just about to be applied, hesteadied himself, took the long breath the young clerk had heard, andthen drew trigger, with the result that there was no heavy report andcrash of another of the defences.

  Another attempt was made to fire the gun, but a second man went down. Athird fared no better, and amidst cheers from the different windows,joined in by the two injured men, who were stunned by the woodworkdriven in upon them but not seriously hurt, one of the officers of thejunk was to be seen raging about giving orders, which produced a raggedvolley from the clumsy Chinese firelocks, bullets and pieces of ironhurtling through the window; but no more harm was done, except to theofficer, who fell pierced by a shot from farther along the great goodsfloor.

  While the party who had landed, quite seventy strong, were raging andtearing round the building, battering at door and barricaded window, andevery now and then making a vain thrust with their spears at the firingparty quite beyond their reach at the upper windows, and frequentlygetting a bullet in return which laid a desperate aggressor low, some ofthe more cautious sheltered themselves on the outside of the wall ofbales and chests to begin firing up at the defenders. But with noadvantage to themselves, for while crouching down behind the wall theycould only bring their heavy, clumsy matchlocks to bear at such an anglethat the charge went up high above the defenders' heads. And whenever aman who had grown furious from several disappointments rose up to get abetter aim, he went down to a certainty, riddled by a bullet sent homeby one or other of the watchful clerks.

  And all the while effort after effort was made by the leaders of thepirates to bring the swivel-guns of their junks to bear, but withoutavail; for, with a strong desire to emulate the success of Stan's shots,quite half-a-dozen of the clerks and warehousemen who commanded thedangerous spots waited patiently and watchfully with presented piece andfinger on trigger for the opportunities that were not long in coming.Man after man of those working the guns was shot down, till, in spite ofyells and blows from their leaders, not a single pirate could be inducedto carry out the dangerous task of loading, laying, or firing the heavyswivel-guns.