“Get strong coffee ready,” ordered Raxworthy. “Make them drink plenty when they show signs of regaining consciousness; but no stimulants, mind!”
He did not remain long below. He sensed danger. His place was on deck, since he was the sole remaining officer on board fit for duty.
He went the rounds, visiting the guns’ crews and those in charge of the searchlights, impressing upon them the utmost need for vigilance. Small arms and ball ammunition were served out, and the watch below warned that they might be required in double quick time.
The hours of darkness passed slowly, and with intense anxiety. All was quiet. Not a single craft of any description passed either up-stream or down. Not a light flickered on the reed-fringed banks. The silence and solitude were ominous.
At eight bells (4 a.m.) the middle watch was relieved, but Raxworthy still carried on. Indefinitely he must be commanding officer of the watch, since there was no one of executive rank to take over his responsibilities.
With the first streaks of dawn came a shout from one of the look-outs:
“Flotilla coming down stream, sir!”
Soon it was light enough for Raxworthy to discern the composition of the “flotilla”.
It was headed by a motor-launch, probably looted from Blakeborough’s factory. She was towing about half a dozen large sampans each crowded with armed men—some in the uniform of the Chinese army, but mostly in native civilian garb.
They were heading straight for the anchored gunboat as if anticipating an easy prey.
Realizing the great disadvantage of Sandgrub being brought up, though fortunately steam had been maintained to full working pressure, Raxworthy gave orders for the cable to be buoyed and made ready to be slipped. There was no time to heave up the anchor; it could be recovered later—after the present little episode ended.
The boats were still about a mile off when Sandgrub fired a blank round as a gentle reminder for the bandits to keep off—for the midshipman had no doubt on that score.
The effect of the gun was to make the motor-launch cast off her tow. The sampan took to the oars and sheered across the stream to the left-hand bank. Presently the motor-launch hoisted a large white flag.
“What’s the bright idea?” asked Raxworthy.
“Want a chin-wag, I expect, sir,” replied the C.P.O., “the blighters thought to catch us napping, and now they’re pretending it’s just a friendly call!”
Since a white flag is not included in the contents of a signal flag locker in his Majesty’s ships, one of the wardroom table-cloths had to be brought on deck and hoisted to the masthead.
A Chinese bandit is generally a treacherous brute, but he has complete faith in a flag of truce when hoisted by a British man-of-war.
The motor-launch, drawing ahead of the rest of the flotilla ran downstream, swung round and approached the still anchored gunboat. In her stern sheets was a tall, powerfully built man in the uniform of a colonel of the Government forces. His features did not resemble those of a Chinaman. Raxworthy rightly came to the conclusion that there was the notorious bandit who had assumed the name of Fu-so-li.
Raxworthy turned to the chief petty officer who was with him on the bridge:
“Nip below and take Andrews with you. Put on Mr. Viner’s patrol jacket and cap, and tell Andrews to wear Mr. Poundall’s. And bring me the Captain’s cap.”
These instructions were smartly carried out, and by the time Fu-so-li was alongside he was considerably astonished to find three officers—one of them the captain, although he appeared to be rather youthful—awaiting him. Not only that, they were supported by a full ship’s company armed, and the gunboat cleared for action.
“I have come to discuss the affair of the Englishman Blakeborough,” began the bandit chief in fair English.
“That is also our reason for being here,” replied Raxworthy. “In fact, we demand his immediate release, and compensation for his treatment.”
“Mr. Captain, it is no fault of mine,” declared Fu-so-li. “An enemy of mine has done this hurt. He has burnt the house of the Englishman Blakeborough and carried him off to hold to ransom.”
“That’s your affair. We have it on excellent authority that Mr. Blakeborough’s factory was raided by your orders. Now, listen; I give you six hours in which to find Mr. Blakeborough and hand him over to us. As compensation you will pay eight hundred ounces of gold.”
“It cannot be done!”
“Then my instructions, which have the approval of the Nankin Government, are to open fire and also to make use of the aircraft we carry on board. I’m not here to argue. The flag of truce will be hauled down in half an hour.”
Fu-so-li smiled, but it was a sickly smile. Like all bullies, he was a coward at heart.
“I see what can do,” he rejoined, and signed to the mechanic in the motor-launch to restart the engine.
Watching the bandit chief out of sight, Raxworthy actually winked to the two ratings, who for the first and probably last time in their service careers were wearing gold rings with curls on their sleeves.
“It’s going to work,” declared the midshipman. “The only thing I was doubtful about was whether that blighter had brought Ti-so with him!”
But Fu-so-li had not brought the treacherous second steward of the gunboat with him. Actually, Ti-so had been reaping a profitable income from his double-dealings. As the steward of the luckless coasting steamer Ah-Foo, he had been instrumental in giving the pirates a chance to seize her. That done, he had hurried hot-foot to Shanghai, where he heard that Sandgrub was going up the Yang-tse to conduct operations against the notorious Fu-so-li. By offering a sum of money, he had bribed Ming, the captain’s messman, to allow him to impersonate the second steward, and none of Sandgrub’s officers and crew had noticed his deception. The one possible set-back was Ti-so’s recognition by Midshipman Raxworthy, and in that case his doubts were removed by Ming’s affirmation that the suspect had been several months in the ship.
It was a simple matter for Ti-so to drug the food intended for the officers’ mess; equally simple for him to signal to a passing sampan—which was there by previous arrangement—to get her to pick him up when he dived overboard.
Thence he went to the bandit chief’s headquarters, and reported that he had drugged the officers and men in the foreign devils’ ship, and all that Fu-so-li had to do was to go alongside and seize her. What a valuable haul of arms and ammunition it would bring!
The bandit chief would be a hero amongst the coolie population. He could bargain with the Chinese government, obtaining pardon, more riches, and a high command in the army. He’d be a marshal, even as other bandits had become before him! Then, no doubt, he would remember Ti-so, who had helped him to power and fame.
Fu-so-li, however, was cautious even as he listened to Ti-so’s blandishments. There was such a thing as double-crossing, although the bandit chief had not heard it thus named.
He left Ti-so under an armed guard, while he collected his flotilla and went down stream to see for himself the state of the crew of the British gunboat.
And then he had a nasty shock.
But not such a nasty one as Ti-so received on the angry chief’s return.
Fu-so-li sent for the man.
“You told me that the foreign devils would be in a sleep near to death,” began the bandit chief, without any preamble. “They are very much awake, both officers and men.”
“Honourable Excellency, by the spirits of my unworthy ancestors,”—Ti-so began to expostulate, falling upon his knees.