"I don't care about bein' anything but what I am, sir. I can't cook like this regler, if it's anything in the cooking line you want me for, sir. I can only do this now and then, as I generally spiles all the grub of my mess when I'm cook, sir."
"Never mind, hand me some more duck, and we will be contented with your cooking for us on such occasions as these, my man."
At that moment Mr. Beauman shaded his eyes with his hands and looked towards the hills, upon which Puffeigh handed him his field glass; and when the master had surveyed the object of his suspicion, demanded what he was looking at.
"I can see a body of Tartar Bannermen riding this way," replied the master, "and we had better return to our boat, as they are ugly customers."
"Finish your breakfast,—there's time; they are miles away."
However, the meal was nearly over, so at the earnest solicitation of the master they left the place and proceeded towards the boat, which was distant about three miles. Having crossed the sand ridge thrown up by the sea, they walked along the cool beach, and, as they deemed the Tartars still a good way off, did not hurry. After a pleasant walk, they arrived off the place where the gig was anchored, and upon the captain's making the signal, the crew got up anchor, and pulled in towards the beach. They were within about two hundred yards of the shore when an exclamation on the part of Mr. Beauman caused the captain's party to look round, and to their astonishment they observed two Tartars riding along the sand ridge, not fifty yards off, and whiz came an arrow which narrowly missed Puffeigh. Before they could recover from their surprise the Tartars were upon them and engaged in combat with Beauman and Thompson, Puffeigh and Wilton managing to escape and reach the boat in safety. Tho Tartar method of capture was at once novel and annoying, as it consisted in seizing the victims by the clothes, and then attempting to ride off with them. Beauman recovered his presence of mind sufficiently to draw his revolver and shoot his captor's horse; then having got over the shock of the fall, he shot his assailant through the heart, released himself, and retreated towards the boat, not aware that Thompson was still in the enemies' hands.
Jerry felt himself lifted by the collar of his serge shirt; and as it was slack, every now and then he received a bump, the ground being somewhat broken into mounds; but thinking it useless to be carried off like a captive turkey, he managed by turning a little to fix his teeth in the Tartar's leg. On that his captor let him go with a curse, and as his horse dashed off frightened by the clatter of Jerry's cooking utensils, it took him some time to rein him in. But no sooner was Jerry on his pins than he made a dash towards the boat. When Puffeigh saw this he ordered his men to back to within a hundred yards of the shore, and called Thompson "to swim for it;" but at that moment the main body of the Bannermen rode over the sand ridge, and Jerry bawling to the officers to leave him to his fate, and not risk their own lives, coolly awaited their arrival. They were soon down upon him, and having seized him they discharged their arrows at the retreating boat and then rode over the sand hill out of sight. Had Puffeigh and his party endeavoured to rescue him the whole of them would have been captured, and we will do the captain the credit of stating that he expressed very great concern about Jerry's untimely fate.
Upon arrival on board Puffeigh found the water-party had returned, so knowing it would be useless to endeavour to recover a man who was probably murdered by that time, he made sail and returned to Chickodadi, where he received his dispatches, and found he was ordered to proceed to Hong-Kong. Great was the regret of all the Stingers to hear of Jerry's untimely end, and it was long before they got over his loss; in fact, he never was forgotten, and his witty stories, popular songs, and amusing sayings, often were quoted, and the Stingers would tell new shipmates "what a jolly good fellow he was," and how sorry they were when the "thundering Tartars carried him off."
A few days after leaving Chickodadi they overhauled H.M.S. Blister, and were ordered to remain by her, as it was feared she would not reach Hong-Kong without assistance, she having about twenty-four hours before collided with and sunk a transport.
Now be it known that Puffeigh had taken a great dislike to Sergeant Spine of the Royal Marines, so one Sunday morning, after abusing that well-drilled and intensely rigid individual, he wound up his tirade by directing Corporal Kerr of the Royal Marine Artillery to remove the three good-conduct stripes which decorated his arm. The sergeant was a thin bamboo-shaped fellow, long in body and small in head, his tight leathern stock giving him a chronic stiff-neck, and making his countenance when at rest strongly resemble that of a half-choked kitten. He was always drilling some one; and so inveterate was this habit with him, that when not operating upon others he drilled himself. Spine had a certain number of motions in which to perform every action of his life. He would rise, or rather turn out of his hammock in six, dress in eighteen, eat his food with eleven, and say his prayers with three, and it was amusing to hear him give himself the word of command, which he would do in an undertone, even when in the presence of his superior officers. The commander considered the sergeant wanting in proper respect towards him; so when Crushe reported the man as "an illicit dealer in sardines, pickles, blacking, and other luxuries," not knowing how to class the offence, or otherwise punish the non-commissioned officer, he hit upon the idea of cutting off the sergeant's good-conduct stripes, thereby degrading him in the eyes of the Royal Marines and Artillerymen, who were serving under his command, and affording a rich treat to the sailors, who are always delighted to witness any punishment inflicted upon their enemies—the sergeant of marines or ship's corporal.