“That chap? He’s the second messman. Don’t know when he was taken on. One Chinaman’s face is much like another’s. At least it seems so to me. Why did you ask?”
“Because he’s the living image of the steward of the Ah-Foo.”
“The boat you were in when she was captured by Ton-quen pirates?”
“Yes; and the strange part about it was that before the attack some blighter extracted the ball cartridges from my revolver and substituted blank.”
“I can understand a fellow in league with the pirates removing the live cartridges; but what was the object in reloading with blank? Seems to me his object would be achieved if he left the chambers empty.”
“Because he thought I might snap open the breach and make sure the revolver was loaded,” explained Raxworthy. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
“And the cartridges; were they blank ammunition or had someone merely broken out the bullets?”
“That I can’t say, sir. Never had a chance to look. After I’d emptied the pistol without effect and had got a crack across the head, I was knocked out properly. I never set eyes on my revolver again.”
“But what has that to do with our messman?”
“I may be wrong, but he’s exactly like the Ah-Foo’s steward who, I feel certain, tampered with the revolver. As far as I know no one else entered my cabin——”
“Want to question the fellow?”
“I’d like to, sir.”
Beckoning to a seaman, Poundall told him to bring the second messman to him; for the Chinaman, without giving a glance at the midshipman, had gone for’ard.
In a minute or so the Chinaman, his face as impassive as if hewn from granite, shuffled to the quarter-deck—which, like every member of the ship’s company, he saluted—and silently awaited Raxworthy to speak.
The midshipman came straight to the point.
“How did you get away when the Ah-Foo was sunk?”
“No can do,” replied the Chinaman.
“You were the steward of the Ah-Foo,” declared the midshipman challengingly.
“No can do,” reiterated the bland Celestial.
“You’ll jolly well have to,” continued Raxworthy. “How long have you been in Sandgrub? How many days have you been here?”
“Two moons.”
The answer took the wind out of Raxworthy’s sails. Two moons—equivalent to two months—meant that if the Chinaman were speaking the truth, he couldn’t possibly have been in the Ah-Foo, eight hundred miles away.
“All right; you can go,” he ordered.
“Didn’t get much change out of that Chink, my lad,” observed Poundall.
“I’m not satisfied, sir.”
“Snotties rarely are,” rejoined the lieutenant, with a cheerful smile. “Better luck next time! Did you think we had a cut-throat pirate on board? I tell you what: I’ll get hold of the Owner’s messman. He’s straight enough. Been in the ship ever since we commissioned, nearly two years ago.”
The head messman was sent for. Raxworthy had seen him when he brought drinks to the captain’s cabin.
“Tell me, Ming,” began the lieutenant, when the Chinaman appeared, “what’s the name of your assistant?”
“He is called Ti-so, sir,” replied the messman in good English.
“And how long has he been in the ship?”
“Two moons, p’laps little more.”
“Know anything about him? Has he a clean run an’ all that sort of thing?”
“Sir, I no understand.”
“Well, would you lend him five dollars and know you’d get the money back?”
“Ti-so he vally good Chinaman, sir.”
“That’s hardly an answer to my question, Ming. He might be a good Chinaman but a rascal to his masters. Is he to be trusted?”
“I trust Ti-so with silver to makee clean. Not one piecee go adrift, sir.”
“All right, Ming; carry on,” concluded the lieutenant.
Raxworthy waited until the messman was out of sight.
“It seems as if I’ve made a mistake, sir,” he confessed.
“Thought so from the first, Raxworthy,” rejoined Poundall. “Well, I’m going ashore; care to come along to the club?”
At daybreak next morning, Sandgrub slipped her moorings and stood down the Wu-sung to the estuary of the mighty Yang-tse-kiang, which at its mouth is fifty miles in width.
And Midshipman Raxworthy positively disgraced himself by being seasick! Only once before in his naval career had he fallen a victim to this malady and that was in one of the Naval College cutters just outside the Dart. Since then he had been in picket-boats, sailing cutters, destroyers and light cruisers; but the motion of the shallow draught river gunboat as she pounded over the short steep seas of the Yang-tse estuary compelled him to “muster his bag”.
The only slight compensation he received lay in the fact that Lieutenant Viner—Poundall’s junior—Ridge, the surgeon-lieutenant and nearly a dozen of the crew were similarly affected.
Viner tried to attribute his indisposition to the sickly reek of the mangroves, until the Owner pointed out that the wind was westerly and consequently an on-shore breeze; but he added that these waters were notoriously wicked, often upsetting the hardiest seaman.
Before nightfall Sandgrub was well up the river and in sheltered water. Owing to the difficulties of navigation she dropped anchor at sunset rather than risk running aground on one of the many mudbanks. Double look-outs were posted and the watch on deck were armed. What with civil war in China and the presence of pirates who belonged to neither of the rival parties, it was essential that Sandgrub should be prepared for all eventualities since the Chinese are apt to make mistakes and then offer bland though tardy apologies.
Three days later, struggling constantly with the strong adverse current, Sandgrub found herself about twenty miles above Hang-kow.
Here her troubles commenced.
Raxworthy was standing morning watch with Viner in charge of the deck. The gunboat was making good about eight knots against a five-knot current. The leadsmen were in the chains and had been monotonously singing out: “By the mark three” for the last twenty minutes.
It was out of the question to detect the shallows owing to the muddy nature of the water, except where the mudbanks were almost awash. Then the ripples over them gave an indication of what Sandgrub was likely to expect if she didn’t alter helm smartly.
“Plenty of water hereabouts,” declared the lieutenant. “It’s a hundred miles farther up that we’ll find shoals. Last June we got aground and stopped there for a week. Gruelling job, I give you my word! Where’s that blighter Ti-so? I told him to bring iced drinks at six bells.”
The lieutenant turned and looked towards the companion.
As he did so there was a sudden jar accompanied by a disconcerting crunching sound.
Viner staggered backwards, knocked Raxworthy off his feet and both fell upon the deck, the lieutenant uppermost. Just at that moment the Chinese messman was arriving with a tray and two glasses of iced lemonades, each with a dash of gin and bitters.
He, too, staggered and unable to recover himself tripped over the two writhing officers.
Raxworthy, although underneath, contrived to wriggle clear and was the first to regain his feet. Then Viner stood up, seemingly regardless of a gash in the back of his hand which was bleeding freely.
“We’ve hit the putty this time, by Jove!” he ejaculated. “Chains, there! What have you got?”
“Hardly enough to float a duck, sir!” replied one of the men. “The lead’s showing.”
Somewhat to Raxworthy’s surprise no orders were given to stop engines. The twin screws continued to revolve apparently driving the gunboat farther on the shoal. But for the fact that they were protected by their respective tunnels the propeller blades would have been torn from their bosses, for Sandgrub had grounded not upon mud, but on hard gravel.