Having directed my two men to hide under the raised stern until they heard the report of a pistol, I hailed the people upon deck. The little midshipman, being very hungry and anxious for his pork, was the first to answer by commanding me to bring the pig on board.
“It is a Chinese pig, and as big as a rhinoceros,” said I. “We want help—throw out a rope.”
Having secured this rope, not only round the animal, but also round the sampan, so that the great weight would afford an excuse for the aid of several men, I left one in the boat, and with the other went upon deck.
“The animal is large and heavy, sir,” said I to the officer—“it will require at least three people to man the rope;” and the greedy little middy was so delighted at having secured so fine a pig, that he ordered four of his Dutch sailors to my assistance.
Well, away they went to work—tug, tug! Of course, there never was so heavy a pig. Then suddenly, as I had arranged with the man below, the rope snapped in two, and the men upon deck fell backwards. I fired my pistol, and closed with one; the man who had ascended with me took another, and he in the boat was up the side like a wildcat upon a third; and before they had time to recover from their surprise, the Chinese, springing from the other boat into the prahu, came to our assistance, and I believe not one life would have been saved—for the Chinese, with their four thousand years of civilization, are by far more bloodthirsty and cruel than the wild islanders of the Archipelago—had I not begged hard of them to stay their hands, at least till our friends should be released, and so be enabled to share in the vengeance upon the Dutchmen. So, leaving the prisoners in charge of the Celestials, I and my two men unfastened the hatches.
“God is great!” was the only expression of Prabu at his unexpected release.
“Claud, old fellow, how did all this come about?” said my brother.
“Not a word—not a word!” I answered, “until we have rescued the throats of the Dutchmen from our Celestial friends.”
“The sahib is right—not a drop of blood must be shed,” replied Prabu. Nor was another word spoken until we had taken our late masters from their dangerous position, and placed them under hatches.
But what had become of our late redoubtable commander? The length and breadth of the deck, the rigging was searched, but he was not to be found—at least until Martin, seeing the top of the brine-tub move, exclaimed, “I smell a rat!” Then, lifting the lid, all but the imperturbable Prabu became convulsed with laughter; for, crouching down, buried up to the shoulders in brine, with pale face and chattering teeth, was the officer of the Dutch navy.