Well, at last we did get away, one exciting morning, the Ringdove, Goldfinch, and Sparrow coming along with us, and the Huan Min simply making the whole sky behind us as black as your hat. The smoke she made was so thick, that it looked as if it didn't like coming out of her funnel.
For a week we wandered backwards and forwards to leeward of one of the groups of islands, all of us in double watches at night, so as to keep a better look-out, but nothing happened, and after that we chose another group and waited outside while the gunboats searched it. Still nothing happened, and I don't mind telling you that this wasn't our idea of excitement and pirate chasing. A third week had nearly gone by when our first news of the pirates came.
Very early one morning the Ringdove was sighted coming towards us very fast, and presently her Captain, Mr. Rashleigh, bounced on board. He was quite purple in the face with excitement, and looked fatter than ever. "The Skipper hasn't turned out yet," the Commander told him, as he took him down below. "You'd better be careful. He's a bit 'livery' in the morning." He hadn't been below three minutes before he bounced up on deck again, looking "down in the mouth", went back to his gunboat without saying a word to anybody, and the Ringdove steamed away.
The Commander had to go to the Captain immediately, and through the open skylight I heard the Captain bellow, "that fat little blockhead has let 'em slip through his fingers. He drives the crew of a junk ashore, and never stops to see what becomes of 'em. I've sent him back, and we'd better follow him." Then I heard him give a terrific "Umph!"
Dicky found out all that had happened from the coxswain of the whaler which had brought Mr. Rashleigh across. He had slipped down the ladder directly, which was rather a smart thing to do. The coxswain had told him that yesterday evening, just as it was getting dark, they had sighted a junk becalmed under an island. Her crew could be seen getting out their sweeps and working at them frantically to try and escape, but Mr. Rashleigh had turned on the Ringdove's searchlight, and, so the coxswain said, thrown a drum of oil on the fires. At any rate, he jolly soon began to overhaul her rapidly, and as she came up, the junk's crew jumped overboard and swam for the shore. Mr. Rashleigh immediately sent a cutter's crew away to board her. Fortunately there had been some little delay in shoving off, and before they could pull halfway the junk blew up, which proves that she must have been a pirate. The cutter was so close that pieces of burning wood actually fell into the boat, and it was jolly lucky that they weren't actually alongside.
Mr. Rashleigh had only waited to pick up the cutter, and had then steamed back to us.
The Vigilant didn't wait long after the Ringdove had gone back again, and followed her to the island, but by the time we'd got there, there wasn't a trace of the junk. Then came more excitement, for "A" small-arm company—that was my company, the left half of it at any rate—was "piped" to fall in. I had to get my gaiters on, and a revolver and a cutlass, and then superintend the serving out of ammunition. Mr. Travers, a tall, very aristocratic Lieutenant, was in charge, and the Commander came too—more excited than anyone—and we were all sent ashore. The Commander sprang into the soft mud with a whoop, and more or less waded ashore, and we all followed him. I got covered with mud up to my knees, and that pair of trousers was never of any use afterwards except for dirty work. It was only a bit of an island, with a small village on the opposite side, so we spread out in skirmishing order and crept down on it, expecting to have shots fired at us every second. There seemed to be a lot of smoke about, and there was a burning smell in the air, and when we'd got within three hundred yards the Commander gave another whoop and sang out, "Rush 'em, boys!" and we all raced down as hard as we could, but the only living things, there, were some pigs and dogs, which ran away squealing and yapping. There was only one hut which hadn't been burnt to the ground—some were still smouldering—-and down on the beach were two dead corpses—ugh! They were the first I had ever seen, and though I didn't really want to do so, I couldn't help going down to look at them closely. Some of my men turned them over with their feet, to see how they'd been killed, and then I had to go away.
Presently some of the villagers began to creep back, and then we learnt from them what had happened, through a Chinaman whom we had brought with us as an interpreter. In the middle of last night a band of men had swooped through the village and set fire to the huts. Whilst the frightened people were trying to escape or put out the fires, they'd cut the mooring ropes of a junk lying close inshore, and had sailed away. It was their only junk, too, and the poor brutes were absolutely ruined. Before we left the village they'd all come back, and were moaning and wringing their hands, but doing nothing to help themselves. I shall never forget one poor old woman, just a wrinkled bag of bones she was, sitting on a stone in front of one of the half-burnt huts. They had brought one of the corpses to her, and she was swaying from side to side, making a funny noise, and looking past everything, as though she was mad. One of the bluejackets gave her some tobacco as we went by. "Here, mother!" he said, "here's a bit of navy prick,"[#] and she snatched it from him, stuffed some of it into her mouth, and went on swaying and moaning.
[#] Navy Prick—Navy tobacco is served out in the raw leaf, and after being rolled and squeezed together by the men, is known as Navy Prick.
When we got aboard again—I'd never been so dirty in my life—the Captain was simply furious. I heard him say, "If that little fool had only stayed where he was, he'd have caught 'em," and we steamed back to our cruising ground.