“No breakfast,” said Stan bitterly, for he was thinking of hot coffee, and his appetite was suddenly damped by what he saw. For the lightening of the mist before the breeze meant that they were close to the edge of the moving bank of rolling mist-clouds, and as if the veil had been suddenly drawn aside, there were the horizontal rays of the sun shining right across the clustering men on the wharf and turning the grey fog-bank to one of gold. To their left the river was hidden, while to their right it was dazzlingly bright, with only a few golden wreaths floating here and there—a glorious scene, but having one of threatening horror behind; for close inshore, about half a mile down-stream, were the piratical junks with grapnels out, holding on to keep from being carried lower, two on the right bank, and four on the left; and as the crews caught sight of them when the mist glided off they set up a yell of savage exultation, and a busy scene ensued as some began to haul in their grapnels, some to hoist sail, while others thrust the long sweeps overboard, and the watchers saw them dip.
“Humph!” grunted Uncle Jeff in a low voice to his nephew; “it’s a long time since I was at school, Stan, but I am going to give an order that used to be very familiar to me in the old days.”
“What’s that, uncle?” said Stan wonderingly.
“All in to begin, my boy.”
“To be sure,” said Blunt grimly. “All in to begin it is; not that we need hurry, for it will be a full half-hour before they can get up here against the sharp current. We’ll have it all in—not to begin fighting, but breakfast. In with you, my lads,” he cried smartly; “breakfast.”
The defenders gave a cheer, and in less than five minutes the Chinese servants were handing round bread-cake, biscuits, and mugs of coffee to all, while the principals carried theirs out to take on the wharf and watch as well.
In a quarter of an hour Blunt gave orders to the carpenters, and the last open doorway was, being closed up, while the men rose from what all felt might be their last meal to take their places for the defence, the narrow slits at the windows between the closely packed chests and bales looking very ominous, the more so in their desertion, not the barrel of a rifle nor a glittering watchful eye being seen.
“All ready?” said Blunt as soon as he reached the upper floor, after seeing to the last strengthenings being given to the two doors.
A cheer was the answer, and he turned to Uncle Jeff.
“There’s plenty of time, sir,” he said. “Will you say a few encouraging words to the men?”