His voice was so low as to be scarcely audible. Frank hastened to his side and, kneeling down, placed an ear close to his mouth.
The boy had no fear now of the mighty Ling. Indeed, it would have been mere foolishness to fear one so stricken, in so sorry a plight. Ling was no longer an incarnate monster, a blustering, boisterous bully. The tiger was caught, choked and enfolded in the meshes of a net. And yet, he still struggled for life--struggled to the last.
He was a man who, during the last few hours, had been possessed by but one idea, which had absorbed the whole of his mind and strength and energy. Call it avarice, greed of gold, or the nobility of a supreme endeavour, it is all the same--it means that there was something in him of the earthly hero. It means that a power that is immortal had given him strength to accomplish all that he desired, had given him courage to live but a little longer. And now, with the plunder safely on board, and the wide river of the valley extending to the open sea, he knew that his days were numbered, his time on earth was short.
"I would speak with you," he whispered. "I would tell you, you are my friend. Go below and release the European prisoners, but keep Cheong-Chau's men bound hand and foot. You cannot trust them. They are all of a breed--of the same breed as their leader. In Canton--if you wish it--you can hand them over to justice. Tell the prefect that they were captured by the mighty Ling."
In that thought he appeared to find some degree of satisfaction. He had always been vain of his strength, his wisdom and his courage.
He was silent a moment. Frank noticed that he smiled--a smile that was terrible to see, because his face was so pinched and haggard. His thoughts must have turned to things divine, for when he spoke again, it was in the words of the Celestial Emperor's prayer. He had turned over upon his back, and lay with his eyes wide open, looking up at the stars.
"To Thee, O mysteriously working Maker, I look up in thought. How imperial is Thy expansive arch! I, Thy child, dull and unenlightened, come to Thee with gladness, as a swallow rejoicing in the spring, praising Thine abundant love."
All his vanity had left him now. The heart of the monster was that of a little child. The violence of the life he had lived, the cruelty of his deeds, departed from him as the life's blood flowed from his wound; and the wisdom and the reverence he had learned on earth rose superior to earthly joys. He closed his eyes, and lay for a long time, breathing more easily, as if asleep.
Frank got to his feet and, descending into the cabin below, cut the bonds that bound Mr Waldron and his uncle. In as few words as possible, the boy explained exactly what had happened; and then all three went on deck, to the place where Ling was lying at the foot of the mast.
As they approached, he endeavoured to lift his head, but it fell back again, as if he had lost control of the muscles of his neck.