"You crouching dogs, this vermilion-faced devil says if you don't hand over the dollars upon our return from the joss-house, he'll blow you into the water."
"Tell them I want two guides, and that I will reward them if they are faithful."
"Do you hear? You common things! The vermilion-visaged devil says he wants two guides, who are to go with us at once."
Having selected a couple of active looking volunteers, the party commenced their journey. First marched the sailors under command of Lieutenant Wilton; these men drew the brass howitzer and its limber-boxes, it being fitted for use as a field piece. Next came a sedan containing Puffeigh, borne by six Chinese, twelve others being secured to act as relays. Bringing up the rear were the marines under control of Crushe, these men carrying the rocket apparatus. Jerry Thompson walked by the side of the sedan, having charge of the bearers, and acting as a sort of aide-de-camp to the captain.
The fighting party marched through the streets to the tune of "Old Dan Tucker," played upon a violin, by one of the blue-jackets; and a more jolly set of fellows could not be imagined. All their troubles forgotten, all animosity buried, everything absorbed in one idea—the rescue of a poor girl from slavery.
Leaving the shore party to make the best of their way to the joss-house, we will return to the Stinger.
Master Jordun, who had been attended to and placed in a cot, finding the place pretty quiet after the departure of the fighting party, got up and cruised round the sick bay. He had made a critical survey of nearly all its occupants, and thought it time to return to his cot, fearing the surgeon would come back and give him a scolding, when his attention was suddenly arrested by hearing a husky voice repeat his name.
"Young Bill! I say! Come here."
"Who's that ere a flyin' my number?"
"Me—yer old chum, Jemmy," was the faint response.