“Oh, murder!” cried Smith. “Look here, Tanner. Your glass has got it and no mistake.”
It had “got it” and no mistake, for the blow from the keen sword had struck it at a sharp angle, and cut three parts of the way through the thick metal tube, which had been driven with tremendous force against my ribs.
“Oh, Gnat!” cried Barkins, as he saw the mischief, “it’s quite spoilt. What a jolly shame!”
“But it saved his life,” said Smith, giving him a meaning nod. “I wouldn’t have given much for his chance, if he hadn’t had that telescope under his arm. I say, Mr Brown, why was the gun fired?”
“To bring you all on board. Captain’s got some information. Look, we’ve weighed anchor, and we’re off directly—somewhere.”
“But what about Ching?” I said to Barkins.
“Ching! Well, he’ll be safe on board and unsafe ashore. I don’t suppose we shall be away above a day. I say, Ching, you’ll have to stop.”
“Me don’t mind. Velly hungly once more. Wantee pipe and go sleepee. Velly tire. Too much fightee.”
We glided alongside of the gunboat the next minute, where Mr Reardon was waiting for us impatiently.
“Come, young gentlemen,” he cried, “you’ve kept us waiting two hours. Up with you. Good gracious, what a state you’re in! Nice addition to a well-dishiplined ship! and—here, what’s the meaning of this?” he cried, as the boat rose to the davits. “Who is this Chinese boy?”