Chapter 9 | Preparations | Blue Jackets

“At last!” he cried. “I began to think your eyelids were sewed up. Dress yourself, sir; do you hear? Do you suppose that the junior officers of the Teaser are kept here on purpose to set a bad example to the men?”

“Breakfast ready?” I said, yawning.

“Of course it is, sir. Kidneys and fried soles done to a shade. Fresh water-cresses, hot rolls, and all kinds of don’t-you-wish-you-may-get-’ems, waiting. I say, look at old Tanner. Let’s rouse him up.”

I rose slowly, and, with the customary malignity of one rudely wakened from sleep, began to feel a grim satisfaction in seeing my messmate robbed of his repose in turn.

“Cold pig?” suggested Smith.

“No, no; don’t,” I said. “It makes the place so wet.”

“All right. Come here, then.”

I was about to join him, when the peculiar vibration going on made me turn sharply to Smith.

“Hallo!” I said.

“What’s the matter?”

“Under steam again?”

“Yes. Orders came soon after daylight, and we’re going south with our tail between our legs. Skipper seems to think it’s of no use trying any longer; and you mark my words, as soon as we’re gone those beggars will come out of their creeks and begin murdering and burning every trading vessel they can catch.”

“I am sorry,” I said, as I recalled my interview with the captain.

“Sorry! I should think you are. So are we all. It’s a shame, that’s what it is, Gnat.”

“It seems to be a pity, because we might run against them some time.”

“Run against them! Why, of course. The scent’s hot now. Oh, I only wish I was captain of this ship!”

“Wish you were, Smithy,” said Barkins, yawning.

“Oh, you’re awake at last, are you?”

“Of course I am. Who’s to sleep with you yelping about like that. I say, if you were skipper, we’d share the cabin with you, and have a jolly time of it—eh?”

“Oh, would you?” cried Smith. “We’d see about that. I tell you what, though, if I was skipper, this gunboat shouldn’t leave the station while there was a pirate on the east coast.”

“Well, there won’t be when we’ve done. I say—oh dear me!—how is it the legs of your trousers will get tangled when you want to put ’em on in a hurry.”

“’Cause you put ’em on with your eyes tangled up. Hear that?”

“What, you gabbling?”

“No; the screw at work.”

“Eh? Yes. What does it mean?”

“We’re going back.”

“No!”

“We are—full speed.”

“Without yard-arming the beggars who took that ship.”

“Yes; ain’t it a shame?”

Barkins made no answer, but kept on dressing—snatching on his clothes, so to speak; and when we went on deck that bright, fine morning, there was a lowering look upon every face; and the officers were all snappish, the men discontented, and scowling at the two figures marching up and down the quarter-deck side by side.

I felt disappointed, for we had been looking forward to the exciting moments when we should first overhaul some piratical junk. Of course I knew that there might be some danger, but I foresaw very little: our well-armed ship, with its strong, highly-disciplined crew, would over-ride every opposition offered by the half-savage Chinamen, I felt sure; and, like most people in the service, I felt that, if any one was hurt, it would be some one else. And now there was to be no further search for the pirates. We were going south again, probably to Hong-Kong; and I was sick of hot Hong-Kong, and doing nothing but drill.

I partook, then, of the general feeling of dissatisfaction that morning; and, feeling quite glum and vexed with myself, I leaned over the taffrail and gazed down at the bright, clear water in search of fish.

“I wish I hadn’t spoken as I did last night,” I said to myself later on; and I was going over the whole scene in the cabin, and thinking of what a noodle I must have looked, when I heard my name uttered in the captain’s short, sharp voice.

I turned and saluted, to find that Mr Reardon had gone forward.

“I only want to repeat my caution to you, Mr Herrick,” said the captain. “You will not say a word to any one about your visit to me last night.”

“No, sir,” I said.

“You have not spoken to your messmates?”

“No, sir; not a word.”

“But they asked you why I summoned you to my cabin?”

“Yes, sir; but they think it was to snub—reprove me, sir, for making so much of the Chinaman.”

“Oh, I see. But snub would have done, Mr Herrick. Reprove sounds pedantic. That will do, but bear in mind my wishes.”

“Oh, there you are, Mr Herrick,” said the first lieutenant, a few minutes later. “I want you. Find that Chinaman and the ship’s tailor, and bring them both to my cabin.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, wondering; and I hunted them out, told them to follow me, and led the way to Mr Reardon’s cabin.

“Shut the door,” he said sharply.

I obeyed, and the lieutenant consulted a scrap of paper upon which he had pencilled a few memoranda.

“Now, tailor,” he said, “you will have an order for a sufficiency of white duck.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And by this time to-morrow I want twenty loose frocks cut and made after the fashion of this man’s blue cotton blouse thing.”

“Couldn’t be done, sir, in the time,” said the tailor respectfully.

“They must be done, my man. I don’t care how roughly they are made, nor how badly sewn, but they must be cut to this pattern. Get as many men as you require to sew, and begin work at once. I’ll send this boy to you soon, for you to get the pattern of his garment.”

The tailor saluted, and went off wondering; while I wondered no less, as I stood waiting with Ching for what was to come; but for some moments Mr Reardon sat there studying his notes.

All at once he looked up sharply.

“Now, Ching,” he said, “can you understand all I say?”

The Chinaman nodded.

“Then look here: I have ordered twenty duck-frocks, as you heard.”

“Yes, sir. Velly like Chinaman.”

“Exactly. Well, these are for twenty of our men to wear. I want them to look like Chinese.”

Ching shook his head.

“Blue flock,” he said; “all blue, no white.”

“We have no blue, and the white must do.”

“Velly well.”

“That point is settled, then. Now, then, about their heads.”

“Cut hair all off, and glow pigtail.”

“That would take years, my man, and I wanted them ready to-morrow.”

“How glow pigtail one day?” cried Ching scornfully; and pulling round his own, he held it out, fully four feet in length—a long black plait, with a bit of ribbon tying it at the end.

“Thi’ty yea’ long,” said Ching. “No one day.”

“You must get some oakum, and dye it black. Plait it up, and fasten that on the men’s heads.”

“With bit o’ stling,” said Ching, nodding his head. “Go act play—make fleatre ’board ship?”

“Yes, we are going to act a play,” said the lieutenant sternly; and I felt the blood come into my face with excitement.

“Shave men’s head—shave face; makee look allee same Chinaman.”

“Oh, we can manage that,” said Mr Reardon, giving me a meaning look. “You can pick out men and boys enough, Mr Herrick, to make twenty smooth-faced ones.”

“Yes, sir, I think so,” I said.

“Then something must be mixed up, whiting and tallow ought to do it.”

“Yes, Ching see; makee head velly white.”

“That will do, then.”

“No,” said Ching sharply. “No tlouser, no boot?”

“That will not matter, my man, so long as they are right in their upper rigging.”

“Light in upper ligging!” said Ching. “Ah, you go cheat, gammon pilate?”

Mr Reardon gave him an angry look.

“You go and do— no, stop. You are quite right, my man, but don’t talk about it. Get the work done.”

“Ching see. Make nineteen twenty men look like Chinese boy. Pilate come along, say, ‘Big tea-ship. Come aboard,’ and get catchee likee lat in tlap.”

“Yes, that’s it, my man. Do you think it a good plan, Mr Herrick?” he added drily.

“Oh yes, sir,” I cried excitedly. “May we begin at once?”

“Ye–es,” said the lieutenant thoughtfully. “I think that’s all you can do. Yes,” he said decidedly; “take the job in hand, Mr Herrick, and help it along. I want to have twenty men looking like a Chinese crew by to-morrow.”

“Come along, Ching.”

“Yes,” he said. “Do it velly well. Chinese pilate velly cunning fellow. You go gettee two junk, put men on board.”

“You go and get the men ready,” said Mr Reardon shortly. “That will do.”

Directly after I had Ching supplied from the purser’s stores with plenty of fine oakum and a couple of bottles of ink. This latter he made boiling hot and poured over the oakum, hanging it to dry by the cook’s fire; and while he was doing this I arranged with the cook to have a bucket of tallow and whiting mixed ready for use when required, so that then all necessary would be to warm it up.

I was just going aft again when “Herrick” was shouted, and I turned, to see Barkins and Smith coming after me. But Mr Reardon heard the hail, and came striding after us.

“You leave Mr Herrick to the business he is on, young gentlemen, and attend to your own,” he cried. “Go on, Mr Herrick. This is no time for gossiping.”

I hurried off, and began my next task, that of selecting twenty men without beards; and there was no difficulty, for I soon picked sixteen and four big lads, upon whose heads the ship’s barber was set to work to cut the hair pretty short, the men submitting with an excellent grace, Jack being ready enough to engage in anything fresh, and such as would relieve the monotony of shipboard life.

They were ready enough to ask questions, but I had nothing to tell; and the preparations went merrily on, but not without my having learned that we were steaming right away out of sight of land.

But long before we had reached this pitch, I found that orders had been given, and the men were busy up aloft, lowering down the main-topgallant mast, and then laying the maintop mast all askew, as if it were snapped off at the top. After which the yards were altered from their perfect symmetry to hang anyhow, as if the ship were commanded by a careless captain. The engine was set to work to squirt water thickened with cutch, and the beautiful white sails were stained in patches, and then roughly furled.

Towards evening, when the sea appeared to be without a sail in sight, we lay-to; platforms were got over the side, and men hung over with their paint-pots and brushes, working with all their might to paint out the streak, while others smeared over the gilding and name at the stern, but with a thin water-colour which would easily wash off.

Then came the turn of the great funnel, which was painted of a dirty black. The bright brass rails were dulled, ropes hung loosely, and in every way possible the trim gunboat was disfigured and altered, so that at a short distance even it would have been impossible to recognise her as the smart vessel that had started from the neighbourhood of the burned ship so short a time before.

But even then Mr Reardon did not seem to be satisfied, for he set the men to work hauling water casks from the hold, and make a pile of them amidships. Lastly, a couple of the boats were turned bottom upward on improvised chocks placed over the deck-house and galley.

I have not mentioned the guns, though. These were completely hidden, the lesser pieces being drawn back, and spare sails thrown over the two big guns forward.

“There,” said Mr Reardon quietly to me; “what do you say to that, Mr Herrick? Think this will deceive them?”

“There’s one more thing I should do, sir,” I said, as I looked aloft.

“One more? Nonsense; there is nothing more to be done.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, smiling; “I’d have some shirts and trousers hung up in the rigging to dry, just as if the men had been having a wash.”

“To be sure,” he cried. “What else?”

“It wouldn’t be bad if we could catch a few big fish, and let them be hanging over the stern rail as if to keep them fresh.”

“I’ll set Mr Barkins and Mr Smith to try and catch some,” he said eagerly. “The idea’s splendid, my lad; and if it turns out to be successful, I’ll—there, I don’t know what I won’t do for you.”

Soon after, I had the pleasure of seeing a lot of the men’s garments hung on a couple of lines in the rigging, and Barkins and Smith hard at work fishing, in which they were so wonderfully successful that I longed to go and join them; but I was too busy over my task of disguising the twenty sailors, and consequently my two messmates had all the sport to themselves, dragging in, every few minutes, an abundance of good-sized fishes, which were at last strung upon a piece of stout line and hung over the stern rail.

That night the crew were all in an intense state of excitement, and roars of laughter saluted my party of sham Chinamen, some of whom were paraded in the newly-made frocks, two being in the full dress of whitened head and pigtail, and looked so exactly like the real thing at a short distance that no doubt was felt as to the success of this part of the proceedings.

Officers and men had been a little puzzled at first, but in a very short time they were all talking about the cleverness of the “captain’s dodge,” as they called it; and the low spirits of the morning gave place to eager talk about the adventures which all felt sure must come now.

The ship’s head had been turned and laid for the islands we had so lately left; but our progress was purposely made exceedingly slow, the screw just revolving, and the water parting with a gentle ripple to right and left.

Meanwhile the tailor and his mates were hard at work by the light of the swinging lanterns, and, upon my being sent by Mr Reardon to make inquiries, the tailor answered that he should be up to time with the twenty Chinee gownds, and went on stitching again as if for his very life.

I was on the watch that night, and stood listening for long enough to the yarns of one of the men, who had not been in Chinese waters before, but “knowed a chap as had;” and he had some blood-curdling tales to tell of the cruelties perpetrated by the desperate gangs who haunted the coast in fast-sailing junks.

“But they’re an awfully cowardly lot, arn’t they, Billy?” said another.

“Well,” said the man, “it’s like this, messmet; they is and they arn’t, if you can make that out. They’ll scuttle away like rats if they can; but if they can’t, they’ll fight that savage that nothing’s like it; and if it is to come to a fight, all I’ve got to say is, as the chap as hasn’t got his cutlash as sharp as ever it can be made ’ll be very sorry for it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said another; “there won’t be much cutlashing; ’tain’t like it used to was in the old days. Most everything’s done with the big guns now; and if they do get alongside to board, why, a man’s cutlash is always stuck at the end of his rifle, just as if it was a jolly’s bag’net growed out o’ knowledge, and then it’s all spick and spike.”

“Maybe,” said the man; “but you mark my words, they’re a nasty lot when they gets wild, and you’ll have to look pretty sharp if you don’t want to get hurt.”

It was not cheering, after a very wearying day and a very short night before, to listen to such talk, and I began to wonder whether the captain would take sufficient precautions to keep the Chinese off, for I felt that to properly carry out the plan, the fighting men must be kept well out of sight till the very last; but I soon came to the conclusion that I need not worry about that, from the spirited way in which everything possible to disguise the ship had been done.

Then, as I leaned over the side looking over the black water, in which a faint star could be seen from time to time, I began to smile to myself at the quiet, dry way in which my ideas had been taken up; but I frowned directly after, as I thought of what a little credit I was getting for it all, and that the captain or Mr Reardon might have said an encouraging word or two to show that they appreciated my efforts.

It was laughable, too, the way in which I had heard the captain’s dodge discussed by Barkins and Smith, who never once associated my summons to the cabin with all that had been done.

The time was going along slowly, and I was beginning to feel very drowsy, so I had a walk up and down a few times, and then came suddenly upon something like a big bundle under the weather bulwark.

“Why, Ching,” I said, “you here?”

“Yes; velly hot down below, no sleepee sleepee. Come on deck, nicee cool. You have fightee morrow?”

“I hope so,” I said; but asked myself the next moment whether I really did hope so.

“Velly bad fightee, bad pilates come, and captain killee whole lot. Allee velly bad man, killee evelybody.”

“Do you think they will come out of hiding?”

“Ching don’tee know. Ching thinkee muchee so. Now go sleepee. Velly much tire.”

He curled himself up, drawing his tail round out of the way, and seemed to go off directly; while I rejoined the officer of the watch, who happened to be Mr Brooke, and we walked right forward to the bows, and saw that the men were keeping a bright look-out.

“Well, Herrick,” he said, “got your dirk sharp?”

“No,” I said. “Don’t laugh at me, please, Mr Brooke.”

“Oh no, I will not laugh at you, my lad,” he said; “but as it is quite likely that we may have a bit of a scrimmage to-morrow, if the scoundrels are lured out of their holes, and grow desperate on finding that they have made a mistake, you had better keep out of the way.”

“But—”

“Oh yes, I know what you are going to say; but you are very young yet, and what chance would you have against a great strong savage Chinaman—for there are plenty of powerful fellows among these scoundrels. You must wait a bit before you take to fighting.”

I felt uncomfortable. He seemed to be looking down upon me so, in spite of my being an officer; but I could not boast of my strength, and remained silent for a time.

“Do you think they are likely to get on board, sir?”

“Oh no,” he said. “We shall not give them a chance. Once the captain is sure that they are the pirates, if we are lucky enough to lure them well out from the shore, the men will be ordered up to the guns, and we shall give them a few broadsides, and sink them.”

“It sounds horrid, sir,” I said. “Then they’ll never have a chance to fight us?”

“Not if we can help it, my lad. But, as you say, it does sound horrid, and rather cowardly; but what would you do with a poisonous snake? You would not give it a chance to strike at you first, if you met it and had a loaded gun in your hands?”

“Of course not, sir,” I said quickly.

“Well, these wretches are as dangerous as venomous serpents, and, after what you saw on board that barque, you do not think we need be squeamish about ridding the earth of such monsters?”

“No, sir, not a bit,” I said quickly.

“Neither do I, Herrick. I should like to aim the gun that sends a shot through them between wind and water.”

“Light on the port bow!” announced the look-out forward; and, upon using his night-glass, Mr Brooke made out the vessel, which showed the light to be a large junk, with her enormous matting-sails spread, and gliding along faster than we were, and in the same direction.

As we watched the light, it gradually grew fainter, and finally disappeared, while all through our watch the screw kept on its slow motion, just sending the gunboat onward.

Toward what? I asked myself several times; and, in spite of my determination to acquit myself manfully if we did go into action, I could not help hoping that the next night would find us all as safe as we were then. But all the same the thoughts of our preparations were well in my mind, and never once did I hope that we should not encounter the enemy.

All the same, though, when my watch was at an end and I went below, perhaps it was owing to its being so hot, as Ching said, for it was a long time before I could get off to sleep.