A little distance away on our right front was a small wood. To our astonishment, soon we saw the mast and sail of a huge junk coming slowly along, opening out to view after passing the trees. She was sailing down another creek, which ran into ours about 500 yards farther on.
“Man the boats!” shouted Goodenough. When she showed her hull round the corner Goodenough said to me, “Montagu, do you think we can take her?”
I hesitated to answer. I thought it would be hopelessly mad to make the attempt. If two or three were wounded in either boat, we should be done.
Seeing that I made no answer, he said, “Well, what do you say?”
I answered: “Sir, if you lose a man or two, or I do before we board her, we shall be utterly helpless; but I am game, sir, whichever you decide.”
This sufficed for Goodenough, as plucky a man as ever breathed. He said, quickly, “Oh yes: we will try.”
“Oh,” said I to myself, trying to look and feel as bold as a lion, “it’s UP this time.”
But, once we were off, somehow the excitement and the steering and the firing of the Minié rifle kept the devil out of one’s mind. The wretched junk—filled with men, crowds on her deck (into which I was potting as fast as I could load and fire)—kept the even tenor of her way, though she soon began to fire round shot and jingalls at us. They fell pretty thick, though most went over our heads.
She was not sailing fast. At first, consequently, we gained on her, as there was little breeze. On we went pulling, Goodenough and I firing until we got about 350 yards from her—and were still gaining. Bullets struck our boats; but not a man was touched. Luckily, the big shot missed us every time. How I watched the muzzle of his two 32-pounders! What difficulty I had to keep my boat straight! The least mistake in steering, and she was off at right angles.
This went on for a quarter of an hour or more; the junk still sailing slowly away, we pulling our hearts out, when the breeze freshened suddenly, in a sort of puff on the water. The junk began to heel, and soon she showed a bow wave. Then we knew we were done; and perhaps it was well, for nothing could persuade me that ten men and two officers could take a junk with sixty men on board if they showed the semblance of a fight—for the simple reason that nobody could have fired from our boats, and in a running fight we should have been shot in the back as we were pulling alongside.