Presently the man who had just descended reappeared. He also looked fagged, but after a short rest prepared again to descend. He had been under water about ninety seconds. Few divers can remain longer. The average time is one minute and a half, sometimes two minutes. It is said that these men are short-lived, and we can well believe it, for their work, although performed only during a short period of each year, is in violent opposition to the laws of nature.

Directing his men to row on, our skipper soon came to another boat, which not only arrested his attention but aroused his curiosity, for never before had he seen so strange a sight. It was a large boat with novel apparatus on board of it, and white men—in very strange costume. In fact it was a party of European divers using the diving-dress among the pearl-fishers of Ceylon, and great was the interest they created, as well as the unbelief, scepticism, misgiving, and doubt which they drew forth—for, although not quite a novelty in those waters, the dress was new to many of the natives present on that occasion, and Easterns, not less than Westerns, are liable to prejudice!

A large concourse of boats watched the costuming of the divers, and breathless interest was aroused as they went calmly over the side and remained down for more than an hour, sending up immense quantities of oysters. Of course liberal-minded men were made converts on the spot, and, equally of course, the narrow-minded remained "of the same opinion still." Nevertheless, that day's trial of Western ingenuity has borne much fruit, for we are now told, by the best authorities, that at the present time the diving-dress is very extensively used in sponge, pearl, and coral fisheries in many parts of the world where naked divers alone were employed not many years ago; and that in the Greek Archipelago and on the Turkish and Barbary coasts alone upwards of three hundred diving apparatuses are employed in the sponge fisheries, with immense advantage to all concerned and to the world at large.

Leaving this interesting sight, our Malay skipper threaded his way through the fleet of boats and made for the shores of the Bay of Condatchy, which was crowded with eager men of many nations.

This bay, on the west coast of Ceylon, is the busy scene of one of the world's great fisheries of the pearl oyster. The fishing, being in the hands of Government, is kept under strict control. It is farmed out. The beds of oysters are annually-surveyed and reported on. They are divided into four equal portions, only one of which is worked each year. As the fishing produces vast wealth and affords scope for much speculation during the short period of its exercise, the bay during February, March, and April of each year presents a wondrous spectacle, for here Jews, Indians, merchants, jewellers, boatmen, conjurors to charm off the dreaded sharks, Brahmins, Roman Catholic priests, and many other professions and nationalities are represented, all in a state of speculation, hope, and excitement that fill their faces with animation and their frames with activity.

The fleet of boats leaves the shore at 10 p.m. on the firing of a signal-gun, and returns at noon next day, when again the gun is fired, flags are hoisted, and Babel immediately ensues.

It was noon when our Malay skipper landed. The gun had just been fired. Many of the boats were in, others were arriving. Leaving his boat in charge of his men, the skipper wended his way quickly through the excited crowd with the wandering yet earnest gaze of a man who searches for some one. Being head and shoulders above most of the men around him, he could do this with ease. For some time he was unsuccessful, but at last he espied an old grey-bearded Jew, and pushed his way towards him.

"Ha! Pungarin, my excellent friend," exclaimed the Jew, extending his hand, which the skipper merely condescended to touch, "how do you do? I am so overjoyed to see you; you have business to transact eh?"

"You may be quite sure, Moses, that I did not come to this nest of sharpers merely for pleasure," replied Pungarin, brusquely.

"Ah, my friend, you are really too severe. No doubt we are sharp, but that is a proper business qualification. Besides, our trade is legitimate, while yours, my friend, is—"

The Jew stopped and cast a twinkling glance at his tall companion.

"Is not legitimate, you would say," observed Pungarin, "but that is open to dispute. In my opinion this is a world of robbers; the only difference among us is that some are sneaking robbers, others are open. Every man to his taste. I have been doing a little of the world's work openly of late, and I come here with part of the result to give you a chance of robbing me in the other way."

"Nay, nay, you are altogether too hard," returned the Jew, with a deprecating smile; "but come to my little office. We shall have more privacy there. How comes it, Pungarin, that you are so far from your own waters? It is a longish way from Ceylon to Borneo."

"How comes it," replied the Malay, "that the sea-mew flies far from home? There is no limit to the flight of a sea-rover, save the sea-shore."

"True, true," returned the Jew, with a nod of intelligence; "but here is my place of business. Enter my humble abode, and pray be seated."

Pungarin stooped to pass the low doorway, and seated himself beside a small deal table which, although destitute of a cloth, was thickly covered with ink-stains. The Malay rover was clad in a thin loose red jacket, a short petticoat or kilt, and yellow trousers. A red fez, with a kerchief wound round it turban fashion, covered his head. He was a well-made stalwart man, with a handsome but fierce-looking countenance.

From beneath the loose jacket Pungarin drew forth a small, richly chased, metal casket. Placing it on the table he opened it, and, turning it upside down, poured from it a little cataract of glittering jewellery.

"Ha! My friend," exclaimed his companion, "you have got a prize. Where did you find it?"

"I might answer, 'What is that to you?' but I won't, for I wish to keep you in good humour till our business is concluded. Here, then, are the facts connected with the case. Not long ago some Englishmen came out to Hong-Kong to dive to a vessel which had been wrecked on an island off the coast. My worthy agent there, Dwarro, cast his eyes on them and soon found out all about their plans. Dwarro is a very intelligent fellow. Like yourself, he has a good deal of the sneaking robber about him. He ascertained that the wreck had much gold coin in it, and so managed that they hired his boat to go off to it with their diving apparatus. Somewhat against their will he accompanied them. They were very successful. The first time they went on shore, they took with them gold to the value of about twenty thousand pounds. Dwarro cleverly managed to have this secured a few hours after it was landed. He also made arrangements to have a fleet of my fellows ready, so that when more gold had been recovered from the wreck they might surround them on the spot and secure it. But the young Englishman at the head of the party was more than a match for us. He cowed Dwarro, and cleverly escaped to land. There, however, another of my agents had the good fortune to discover the Englishmen while they were landing their gold. He was too late, indeed, to secure the gold, which had been sent on inland in charge of two Chinamen, but he was lucky enough to discover this casket in the stern-sheets of their boat. The Englishmen fought hard for it, especially the young fellow in command, who was more like a tiger than a man, and knocked down half a dozen of our men before he was overpowered. We would have cut his throat then and there, but a party of inhabitants, guided by one of the Chinamen, came to the rescue, and we were glad to push off with what we had got. Now, Moses, this casket is worth a good round sum. Dwarro wisely took the trouble to make inquiries about it through one of the Chinamen, who happened to be an honest man and fortunately also very stupid. From this man, Chok-foo, who is easily imposed on, he learned that the casket belongs to a very rich English merchant, who would give anything to recover it, because it belonged to his wife, who is dead—"

"A rich English merchant?" interrupted Moses, "we Jews are acquainted pretty well with all the rich English merchants. Do you know his name?"

"Yes; Charles Hazlit," answered the Malay.

"Indeed! Well—go on."

"Well," said Pungarin, abruptly, "I have nothing more to say, except, what will you give for these things?"

"One thousand pounds would be a large sum to offer," said the Jew, slowly.

"And a very small one to accept," returned Pungarin, as he slowly gathered the gems together and put them back into the casket.

"Nay, my friend, be not so hasty," said Moses; "what do you ask for them?"

"I shall ask nothing," replied the Malay; "the fact is, I think it probable that I may be able to screw more than their value out of Mr Hazlit."

"I am sorry to disappoint your expectations," returned the Jew, with something approaching to a sneer, as he rose; and, selecting one from a pile of English newspapers, slowly read out to his companion the announcement of the failure of the firm of Hazlit and Company. "You see, my good friend, we Jews are very knowing as well as sharp. It were better for you to transact your little business with me."

Knowing and sharp as he was, the Jew was not sufficiently so to foresee the result of his line of conduct with the Malay rover. Instead of giving in and making the best of circumstances, that freebooter, with characteristic impetuosity, shut the steel box with a loud snap, put it under his arm, rose, and walked out of the place without uttering a word. He went down to the beach and rowed away, leaving Moses to moralise on the uncertainty of all human affairs.

Favouring gales carried the Malay pirate-junk swiftly to the east. The same gales checked, baffled, and retarded the schooner Fairy Queen on her voyage to the west.

"Darling Aileen," said Miss Pritty, recovering from a paroxysm, "did you ever hear of any one dying of sea-sickness?"

"I never did," answered Aileen, with a languid smile.

Both ladies lay in their berths, their pale cheeks resting on the woodwork thereof, and their eyes resting pitifully on each other.

"It is awful—horrible!" sighed Miss Pritty at at the end of another paroxysm.

Aileen, who was not so ill as her friend, smiled but said nothing. Miss Pritty was past smiling, but not quite past speaking.

"What dreadful noises occur on board ships," she said, after a long pause; "such rattling, and thumping, and creaking, and stamping. Perhaps the sailors get their feet wet and are so cold that they require to stamp constantly to warm them!"

Aileen displayed all her teeth and said, "Perhaps."

At that moment the stamping became so great, and was accompanied by so much shouting, that both ladies became attentive.

A few moments later their door opened violently, and Mr Hazlit appeared with a very pale face. He was obviously in a state of great perturbation.

"My dears," he said, hurriedly, "excuse my intruding—we are—attacked— pirates—get up; put on your things!"

His retreat and the closing of the door was followed by a crash overhead and a yell. Immediately after the schooner quivered from stem to stern, under the shock of her only carronade, which was fired at the moment; the shot being accompanied by a loud cheer.

"Oh horror!" exclaimed Miss Pritty, "my worst fears are realised!"

Poor Miss Pritty was wrong. Like many people whose "worst fears" have been engendered at a civilised fireside, she was only beginning to realise a few of her fears. She lived to learn that her "worst fears" were mere child's play to the world's dread realities.

Her sea-sickness, however, vanished as if by magic, and in a few minutes she and her companion were dressed.

During those few minutes the noise on deck had increased, and the shouts, yells, and curses told them too plainly that men were engaged in doing what we might well believe is the work only of devils. Then shrieks of despair followed.

Presently all was silent. In a few minutes the cabin door opened, and Pungarin entered.

"Go on deck," he said, in a quiet tone.

The poor ladies obeyed. On reaching the deck the first sight that met them was Mr Hazlit standing by the binnacle. A Malay pirate with a drawn sword stood beside him, but he was otherwise unfettered. They evidently thought him harmless. Near to him stood the skipper of the Fairy Queen with the stern resolution of a true Briton on his countenance, yet with the sad thoughtful glance of one trained under Christian influences in his eye. His hands were bound, and a Malay pirate stood on either side of him. He was obviously not deemed harmless!

The decks were everywhere covered with blood, but not a man of the crew was to be seen.

"You are the captain of this schooner?" asked Pungarin.

"Yes," replied the prisoner, firmly.

"Have you treasure on board?"

"No."

"We shall soon find out the truth as to that. Meanwhile, who is this?" (pointing to Mr Hazlit.)

The captain was silent and thoughtful for a few moments. He was well aware of the nature of the men with whom he had to do. He had seen his crew murdered in cold blood. He knew that his own end drew near.

"This gentleman," he said, slowly, "is a wealthy British merchant— well-known and respected in England. He has rich friends. It may be worth your while to spare him."

"And this," added the pirate captain, pointing to Aileen.

"Is his only child," answered the other.

"Your name?" asked Pungarin.

"Charles Hazlit," said the hapless merchant.

A sudden flash of intelligence lit up for a moment the swarthy features of the pirate. It passed quickly. Then he spoke in an undertone to one of his men, who, with the assistance of another, led the captain of the schooner to the forward part of the ship. A stifled groan, followed by a plunge, was heard by the horrified survivors. That was all they ever knew of the fate of their late captain. But for what some would term a mere accident, even that and their own fate would have remained unknown to the world—at least during the revolution of Time. The romances of life are often enacted by commonplace people. Many good ships with ordinary people on board, (like you and me, reader), leave port, and are "never again heard of." Who can tell what tales may be revealed in regard to such, in Eternity?

The Fairy Queen was one of those vessels whose fate it was to have her "fate" revealed in Time.

We cannot state with certainty what were the motives which induced Pungarin to spare the lives of Mr Hazlit and his family; all we know is, that he transferred them to his junk. After taking everything of value out of the schooner, he scuttled her.

Not many days after, he attacked a small hamlet on the coast of Borneo, massacred most of the men, saved a few of the young and powerful of them—to serve his purposes—also some of the younger women and children, and continued his voyage.

The poor English victims whom he had thus got possession of lived, meanwhile, in a condition of what we may term unreality. They could not absolutely credit their senses. They felt strangely impelled to believe that a hideous nightmare had beset them—that they were dreaming; that they would unquestionably awake at last, and find that it was time to get up to a substantial and very commonplace English breakfast. But, mingled with this feeling, or rather, underlying it, there was a terrible assurance that the dream was true. So is it throughout life. What is fiction to you, reader, is fact to some one else, and that which is your fact is some one else's fiction. If any lesson is taught by this, surely it is the lesson of sympathy—that we should try more earnestly than we do to throw ourselves out of ourselves into the place of others.

Poor Miss Pritty and Aileen learned this lesson. From that date forward, instead of merely shaking their heads and sighing in a hopeless sort of way, and doing nothing—or nearly nothing—to check the evils they deplored, they became red-hot enthusiasts in condemning piracy and slavery, (which latter is the grossest form of piracy), and despotism of every kind, whether practised by a private pirate like Pungarin, or by a weak pirate like the Sultan of Zanzibar, or by comparatively strong pirates like the nations of Spain and Portugal.

In course of time the pirate-junk anchored at the mouth of a river, and much of her freight, with all her captives, was transferred to native boats. These were propelled by means of numerous oars, and the male captives were now set to work at these oars.

Mr Hazlit and his daughter and Miss Pritty were allowed to sit idle in the stem of one of the boats, and for a time they felt their drooping spirits revive a little under the influence of the sweet sunshine while they rowed along shore, but as time passed these feelings were rudely put to flight.

The captives were various in their character and nationality, as well as in their spirits and temperaments. These had all to be brought into quick subjection and working order. There were far more captives than the pirates knew what to do with. One of those who sat on the thwart next to the Hazlits had been a policeman in one of the China ports. He was a high-spirited young fellow. It was obvious that his soul was seething into rebellion. The pirate in charge of the boat noted the fact, and whispered to one of his men, who thereupon ordered the policeman to pull harder, and accompanied his order with a cut from a bamboo cane.

Instantly the youth sprang up, and tried to burst his bonds. He succeeded, but before he could do anything, he was overpowered by half a dozen men, and re-bound. Then two men sat down beside him, each with a small stick, with which they beat the muscles of his arms and legs, until their power was completely taken away. This done, they left him, a living heap of impotent flesh in the bottom of the boat, and a salutary warning to the rebellious.

But it did not end here. As soon as the poor fellow had recovered sufficiently to move, he was again set to the oar, and forced to row as best he could.

The voyage along the coast, and up a river into which they finally turned, occupied several days. At first, on starting, Aileen and her companions had looked with tender pity on the captives as they toiled at the heavy oars, but this deepened into earnest solicitude as they saw them, after hours of toil, gasping for want of water and apparently faint from want of food. Next day, although they had lain down in the bottom of the boat supperless, the rest had refreshed most of them, and they pulled on with some degree of vigour. But noon came, and with it culminated the heat of a burning sun. Still no water was served out, no food distributed. Mr Hazlit and his party had biscuit and water given them in the morning and at noon. During the latter meal Aileen observed the native policeman regarding her food with such eager wolfish eyes that under an impulse of uncontrollable feeling she held out her can of water to him. He seized and drank the half of it before one of the pirates had time to dash it from his lips.

Presently a youth, who seemed less robust than his comrades, uttered a wild shriek, threw up his hands, and fell backwards. At once the pirates detached him from his oar, threw him into the sea, and made another captive fill his place. And now, to their inexpressible horror, the Hazlits discovered that the practice of these wretches—when they happened to have a super-abundance of captives—was to make them row on without meat or drink, until they dropt at the oar, and then throw them overboard! Reader, we do not deal in fiction here, we describe what we have heard from the mouth of a trustworthy eye-witness.

In these circumstances the harrowing scenes that were enacted before the English ladies were indeed fitted to arouse that "horror" which poor Miss Pritty, in her innocence, had imagined to have reached its worst. We will pass it over. Many of the captives died. A few of the strongest survived, and these, at last, were fed a little in order to enable them to complete the journey. Among them was the native policeman, who had suddenly discovered that his wisest course of action, in the meantime, was submission.

At last the boats reached a village in one of those rivers whose low and wooded shores afford shelter to too many nests of Malay pirates even at the present time—and no wonder! When the rulers and grandees of some Eastern nations live by plunder, what can be expected of the people?

The few captives who survived were sent ashore. Among them were our English friends.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

SUDDEN AND BAD NEWS INDUCES SUDDEN AND GOOD ACTION.

About this time there hung a dark cloud over the pagoda in Hong-Kong. Even the bright eyes of Molly Machowl could not pierce through this cloud. Rooney himself had lost much of his hopeful disposition. As for Edgar Berrington, Joe Baldwin, and David Maxwell, they were silently depressed, for adversity had crushed them very severely of late.

Immediately after their losses, as already detailed or referred to, stormy weather had for several weeks prevented them from resuming operations at the wreck, and when at last they succeeded in reaching the old locality, they found themselves so closely watched by shore boats that the impossibility of their being able to keep anything they should bring up became obvious. They were forced, therefore, to give up the idea of making further attempts.

"It's too bad," growled Maxwell one morning at breakfast, "that all our trouble and expense should end in nothin'—or next to nothin'."

"Come, Maxwell," said Edgar, "don't say 'nothing.' It is true we lost our first great find that luckless night when we left it with Wilson, but our second haul is safe, and though it amounts only to eight thousand pounds sterling, that after all is not to be sneezed at by men in our circumstances."

"Make not haste to be rich," muttered Joe Baldwin in an undertone.

"Did we make haste to be rich?" asked Edgar, smiling. "It seems to me that we set about it in a cool, quiet, business-like way."

"Humph, that's true, but we got uncommon keen over it—somethin' like what gamblers do."

"Our over-keenness," returned Edgar, "was not right, perhaps, but our course of action was quite legitimate—for it is a good turn done not only to ourselves but to the world when we save property; and the salvor of property—who necessarily risks so much—is surely worthy of a good reward in kind."

"Troth, an' that's true," said Rooney, with a wry grin, "I had quite made up me mind to a carridge and four with Molly astore sittin' in silks an' satins inside."

"Molly would much rather sit in cotton," said the lady referred to, as she presided at the breakfast-table; "have another cup, Rooney, an' don't be talking nonsense."

"But it does seem hard," continued Maxwell in his growling voice, "after all our trouble in thin venture, to be obliged to take to divin' at mere harbour-works in Eastern waters, just to keep body and soul together."

"Never mind, boy," exclaimed Rooney with a successful effort at heartiness, "it won't last long—it's only till we get a suitable chance of a ship to take us an' our small fortins back to ould Ireland—or England, if ye prefer it—though it's my own opinion that England is only an Irish colony. Never say die. Sure we've seen a dale of life, too, in them parts. Come, I'll give ye a sintiment, an' we'll drink it in tay—"

Before the hopeful Irishman could give the sentiment, he was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door and the abrupt entrance of a Chinaman, who looked at the breakfast party with keen interest and some anxiety.

"If it's your grandmother you're lookin' for," said Rooney, "she don't live here, young man."

Paying no attention to this pleasantry, the Chinaman closed the door with an air of mystery, and, going up to Edgar, looked him inquiringly in the face, as he said interrogatively:—

"I's pleeceman. You's Eggirbringting?"

"Not a bad attempt," exclaimed Edgar, with a laugh. "I suppose that is my name translated into Chinese."

"Took me muchee—long—time for learn him from young missee," said the Chinaman with a hurt look.

At the mention of a young lady Edgar's amused look changed into one of anxiety, for he had, through an English acquaintance in the port, become aware not only of Mr Hazlit's failure, but of his sudden departure for England with his daughter and Miss Pritty, and a vague suspicion of bad news flashed upon him.

"You bring a message, I see?" he said, rising and speaking hurriedly. "Let me hear it. Quick."

Thus invoked, the Chinaman spoke so quickly and in such a miraculous jumble of bad English, that Edgar could not comprehend him at all;—only one thing he felt quite sure of, namely, that his anxiety was well found.

"Ho! Chok-foo!" he shouted.

The domestic entered, and to him the Chinaman delivered his message, which was to the following effect:—

He was a native policeman who had been captured on the coast when in discharge of his duties. Many others had been taken by the same pirates at different times, and among them an English gentleman named Hazlit, with his daughter and a lady friend. These latter had been spared, probably with a view to ransom, at the time the crew of their vessel was massacred, and were at that moment in one of the strongholds belonging to the pirates, up one of the intricate rivers on the coast of Borneo. He, the policeman, having resolved to make his escape, and being, in virtue of his wise, wily, and constabular nature, well able to do so, had mentioned the circumstance to the young lady, and, under promise of a handsome reward, had agreed to travel and voyage, night and day, by boat or vessel, as fortune should favour him, in order to convey immediate intelligence of these facts to a youth named "Eggirbringting," whom the young lady described as being very tall and stout, and extremely handsome.

It may easily be imagined with what mingled feelings of anxiety and impatience the "tall, stout, and extremely handsome young man" listened to this narrative as it was volubly delivered by the "pleeceman" and slowly translated by Chok-foo.

When at last he was fairly in possession of all that the messenger had to relate, Edgar paced up and down the room for a few seconds with rapid strides.

"We must go into action at once, sir," suggested Joe Baldwin.

"Of course, of course, but how? That's the point," exclaimed Edgar, with a look of impatient vexation. "Borneo is a long way off. There are no steamers running regularly to it that I know of. However, it's of no use talking; let's go at once and make inquiry. I'll go see our consul—perhaps—"

"P'lhaps," interrupted the messenger, "p'lhaps the pleeceman can talkee."

"If he can, let him speak," cried Edgar, with impatience.

"Pleece he nevir too muchee quick," returned the man, coolly. "We knows what we's can do. Hai, yach!"

Edgar sat down with a sharp sigh of discontent, and waited for more.

"Well?"

"Well," repeated the policeman, "there be steam-boat here now—go for Borneo quick."

"At once!" cried Edgar, starting up and seizing his hat, "why did you not—"

"Sh! Keepee cool, you no 'casion makes so fashion," interrupted the policeman, who thereupon went on to explain that on his arrival in Hong-Kong he had gone at once to head-quarters, before delivering his message to Edgar, in order to make himself master of all the news about town that was worth knowing, or likely in any way to advance the interest of those whom he sought to serve. Among other things he had learned the important fact that, two days before his arrival, a small gun-boat, belonging to a certain Rajah of Borneo, and commanded by a certain Scotchman, and employed for the express purpose of hunting up and rooting out the pirates of the China seas, had put in to the port for repairs. He had hurried down to the gun-boat in time to prevent her departure, had told his story, and had just come from her to say that her captain would like much to see Mr Berrington.

On hearing this, Edgar again started up and eagerly ordered the native policeman to guide him to the gun-boat in question without another moment's delay. He was followed, of course, by his male companions, who were nearly as much interested in the matter as himself. They were soon on the deck of the gun-boat.

It was a neat trim screw-steamer of small size, 180 tons burthen, and manned by about sixty Malays and a few Englishmen. Everything on board was as bright and orderly as if it had been a British man-of-war. Her commander received the visitors on the quarter-deck. He looked like one who was eminently well qualified to hunt up, run down, cut out, or in any other mode make away with pirates. There was much of the bull-terrier in him—solid, broad, short, large-chested—no doubt also large-hearted—active, in the prime of life, with short black curly hair, a short black beard and moustache, a square chin, a pleasant smile, a prominent nose, and an eagle eye. Indeed he might himself have made a splendid chief of the very race against which he waged "war to the knife."

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr Berrington," said the captain, holding out his hand. "The native policeman has told me all about your friends—I understand them to be such?"

"Yes—intimate friends."

"Well, this business is quite in my way. I shall be glad to take you with me. But who are these?" he added, looking at Edgar's companions.

"They are comrades, and might do good service if you will allow them to volunteer."

"My crew is complete," said the captain, doubtfully, "except, indeed, that my chief engineer is just dead, but none of your men look as if they could fill his shoes."

"That is true, but I can fill them myself," said Edgar, eagerly.

"Indeed!"

"Yes, I am an engineer by profession; my comrades are professional divers. We have been engaged on a wreck here for some time past."

"Good," said the captain; "are your dresses and apparatus at hand?"

"Some of them are."

"Then bring them aboard at once. I leave in an hour. Just bring what you have handy. Lose no time. I will take your men also. They may be of use."

Within an hour after the foregoing conversation Molly Machowl was left disconsolate in the pagoda under the care of Chok-foo, while the Rajah's gun-boat was steaming out to sea with Edgar, Baldwin, Rooney, Maxwell, and Ram-stam added to her warlike crew.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

BEARDING THE LION IN HIS DEN.

Steam has pretty well subdued time. Fifty years ago it was a mighty feat to "put a circle round the globe." Now-a-days a "Cook"—by no means a captain—will take or send you round it in "a few weeks."

Romantic reader, don't despair! By such means romance has undoubtedly been affected in some degree, but let not that grieve thee! Romance has by no means been taken out of the world; nor has it been, to use an unromantic phrase, reduced in quantity or quality. Human inventions and appliances alter the aspects of romance, and transfer its influences, but they cannot destroy a Creator's gift to the human race. They have, indeed, taken the romance out of some things which were once romantic, but that is simply because they have made such things familiar and commonplace. They have not yet touched other things which still remain in the hallowed region of romance. Romance is a region. Things crowd out of it, but other things crowd into it. The romantic soul dwells perpetually in it, and while, perhaps with regret, it recognises the fact that many things depart from that region, it also observes, with pleasure, that many things enter into it, and that the entrances are more numerous than the exits. The philosophico-romantic spirit will admit all this and be grateful. The unphilosophico-romantic spirit will not quite see through it, and may, perchance, be perplexed. But be of good cheer. Have faith! Do not let the matter-of-fact "steam-engine," and the "telegraph," and the "post-office," rob thee of thy joys. They have somewhat modified the flow of the river of Romance, but they have not touched its fountain-head,—and never can.

Why, what is Romance? Despite the teachings of the dictionaries—which often give us the original and obsolete meaning of words—we maintain that romance signifies the human soul's aspirations after the high, and the grand, and the good. In its fallen condition the poor soul undoubtedly makes wondrous mistakes in its romantic strainings, but these mistakes are comparatively seldom on the side of exaggeration. Our dictionary says that romance is extravagance—a fiction which passes beyond the limits of real life. Now, we maintain that no one—not even the most romantic of individuals—ever comes up to real life. We have been a child—at least we incline to that belief—and we have been, like other children, in the habit of romancing, as it is called, that is, according to dictionaries, passing "beyond the limits of real life" into "extravagance." We are now a man—it is to be hoped—have travelled far and seen much and yet we can say conscientiously that the wildest fancies of our most romantic moods in childhood have been immeasurably surpassed by the grand realities of actual life! What are the most brilliant fancies of a child or of a mere ignorant "romancer," compared to the amazing visions of the Arctic regions or the high Alps, which we have seen? "Fictions" and "extravagance"! All our wildest sallies are but intravagance and feeble fancy compared with the sublimity of fact. No doubt there are men and women gifted with the power of burlesquing reality, and thus, not going beyond its limits, but causing much dust and confusion within its limits by the exaggeration and falsification of individual facts. This, however, is not romance. We stand up for romance as being the bright staircase that leads childhood to reality, and culminates at last in that vision which the eye of man hath not yet seen nor his mind conceived; a vision which transcends all romance is itself the greatest of all realities, and is "laid up for the people of God."

We return from this divergence to the point which led to it—the power of steam to subdue time. No doubt it was unromantic enough to be pushed, propelled, thrust, willing or not willing, against, or with, wind and tide, so that you could gauge your distance run—and to be run—almost to a foot; but it was very satisfactory, nevertheless, especially to those whose hearts were far in advance of their vessel, and it was more than satisfactory when at the end of their voyage of a few days they found themselves gliding swiftly, almost noiselessly, up the windings of a quiet river whose picturesque scenery, romantic vistas, and beautiful reflections might have marked it the entrance to a paradise instead of a human pandemonium.

It was very early when the gun-boat entered the stream. The mists of morning still prevailed, and rendered all nature fairy-like. Weird-looking mangrove bushes rose on their leg-like roots from the water, as if independent of soil. Vigorous parasites and creepers strove to strangle the larger trees, but strove in vain. Thick jungle concealed wealth of feathered, insect, and reptile life, including the reptile man, and sundry notes of warning told that these were awaking to their daily toil—the lower animals to fulfil the ends of their being, the higher animal to violate some of the most blessed laws of his Creator. Gradually the sun rose and dispelled the mists, while it warmed everything into strong vitality. As they passed up, clouds of water-fowl rose whirring from their lairs, and luxuriant growth of weeds threatened to obstruct the progress of the steamer.

"Come here, policeman," said the captain to the native functionary; "how far above this, did you say, is the nest of the vipers?"

"'Bout tree mile."

"Humph!" ejaculated the captain, turning to Berrington, who had come on deck at the moment. "I never went higher up the river than this point, for, just ahead, there are reeds enough to stop the screw of a three thousand ton ship, but if you'll get your diving-dresses ready I'll try it. It would be much better to bring our big guns to bear on them than to attack in boats."

"I'll have 'em ready directly," said Edgar. "Perhaps we'd better stop the engines now."

"Just so; stop them."

The engines were stopped, and the gun-boat glided slowly over the still water until it came to rest on its own inverted image.

Meanwhile the air-pump was rigged, and Joe Baldwin put on his dress, to the great interest and no little surprise of the Malay crew.

"Ready, sir," said Edgar, when Joe sat costumed, with the helmet at his side and his friends Rooney and Maxwell at the pumps.

"Go ahead, then—full steam," said the captain.

Just in front of the vessel the river was impeded quite across by a dense growth of rank reeds and sedges; a little further on there was clear water. Into this the gun-boat plunged under full steam.

As was expected, the screw soon became choked, and finally stopped. Had the pirates expected this they would probably have made a vigorous attack just then. But the danger, being so obvious, had never before been incurred, and was therefore not prepared for or taken advantage of by the pirates. Nevertheless the captain was ready for them if they had attacked. Every man was at his station armed to the teeth.

The moment the boat began to work heavily Joe's helmet was put on, and when she came to a stand he went over the stern by means of a rope-ladder prepared for the purpose.

"Be as active as you can, Joe. Got everything you want?" said Edgar, taking up the bull's-eye.

"All right, sir," said Joe.

"Pump away," cried Edgar, looking over his shoulder.

Next moment Joe was under water, and the Malays, with glaring eyes and open mouths, were gazing at the confusion of air-bubbles that arose from him continually. From their looks it seemed as though some of them fancied the whole affair to be a new species of torture invented by their captain.

Joe carried a small hatchet in his girdle and a long sharp knife in his hand. With these he attacked the reeds and weeds, and in ten minutes or less had set the screw free. He soon reappeared on the rope-ladder, and Edgar, who had been attending to his lines, removed the bull's-eye.

"What now, Joe?" he asked.

"All clear," said Joe, coming inboard.

"What! Done it already?"

"Ay; steam ahead when you like, sir."

The order was given at once. The assistant engineer put on full steam, and the gun-boat, crashing through the remaining obstruction, floated into the comparatively clear water beyond. The screw had been again partially fouled, of course, but ten minutes more of our diver's knife and axe set it free, and the vessel proceeded on her way.

Scouts from the pirate-camp had been watching the gun-boat, for they had counted on nothing worse than an attack by boats, which, strong in numbers, they could easily have repelled. Great therefore was the consternation when these scouts ran in and reported that the vessel had cleared the obstructions by some miraculous power which they could not explain or understand, and was now advancing on them under full steam.

While the operations we have described were being carried out on board the gun-boat, in the pirate village poor Mr Hazlit was seated on a stump outside a rude hut made chiefly of bamboos and palm leaves. He wore only his trousers and shirt, both sadly torn—one of the pirates having taken a fancy to his coat and vest, the former of which he wore round his loins with his legs thrust through the sleeves. The captive merchant sat with his face buried in his hands and bowed on his knees.

Inside the hut sat Aileen with poor Miss Pritty resting on her bosom. Miss Pritty was of a tender confiding nature, and felt it absolutely necessary to rest on somebody's bosom. She would rather have used a cat's or dog's than none. Aileen, being affectionate and sympathetic, had no objection. Nevertheless, not being altogether of angelic extraction, she was a little put out by the constant tremors of her friend.

"Come, dear, don't shudder so fearfully," she said, in a half coaxing half remonstrative tone.

"Is he gone?" asked Miss Pritty in a feeble voice, with her eyes tight shut.

She referred to a half-naked warrior who had entered the hut, had half shut his great eyes, and had displayed a huge cavern of red gum and white teeth in an irresistible smile at the woe-begone aspect of Miss Pritty. He had then silently taken his departure.

"Gone," repeated Aileen, rather sharply; "of course he is, and if he were not, what then? Sure his being dark and rather lightly clothed is not calculated to shock you so much."

"Aileen!" exclaimed Miss Pritty, raising her head suddenly, and gazing with anxiety into the face of her friend; "has our short residence among these wretches begun to remove that delicacy of mind and sentiment for which I always admired you?"

"No," returned Aileen, firmly, "but your excessive alarms may have done something towards that end. Nay, forgive me, dear," she added, gently, as Miss Pritty's head sank again on her shoulder, with a sob, "I did not mean to hurt your feelings, but really, if you only think of it, our present position demands the utmost resolution, caution, and fortitude of which we are capable; and you know, love, that this shuddering at trifles and imagining of improbabilities will tend to unfit you for action when the time arrives, as it surely will sooner or later, for my father has taken the wisest steps for our deliverance, and, besides, a Greater than my father watches over us."

"That is true, dear," assented Miss Pritty, with a tender look. "Now you speak like your old self; but you must not blame me for being so foolish. Indeed, I know that I am, but, then, have not my worst fears been realised? Are we not in the hands—actually in the hands—of pirates—real pirates, buccaneers—ugh!"

Again the poor lady drooped her head and shuddered.

"Your worst fears may have been realised," said Aileen; "but we have certainly not experienced the worst that might have happened. On the contrary, we have been remarkably well treated—what do you say? Fed on rats and roast puppies! Well, the things they send us may be such, for they resemble these creatures as much as anything else, but they are well cooked and very nice, you must allow, and—"

At that moment Aileen's tongue was suddenly arrested, and, figuratively speaking, Miss Pritty's blood curdled in her veins and her heart ceased to beat, for, without an instant's warning, the woods resounded with a terrific salvo of artillery; grape and canister shot came tearing, hissing, and crashing through the trees, and fierce yells, mingled with fiend-like shrieks, rent the air.

Both ladies sat as if transfixed—pale, mute, and motionless. Next moment Mr Hazlit sprang into the hut, glaring with excitement, while a stream of blood trickled from a slight wound in his forehead.

Uttering a yell, no whit inferior to that of the fiercest pirate near him, and following it up with a fit of savage laughter that was quite appalling, the once dignified and self-possessed merchant rolled his eyes round the hut as if in search of something. Suddenly espying a heavy pole, or species of war-club, which lay in a corner, he seized it and whirled it round his head as if he had been trained to such arms from childhood.

Just then a second salvo shook the very earth. Mr Hazlit sprang out of the hut, shouted, "To the rescue! Aileen, to the rescue!" in the voice of a Stentor, plunged wildly into a forest-path, and disappeared almost before the horrified ladies could form a guess as to his intentions.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

RECOUNTS THE WILD, FIERCE, AND IN SOME RESPECTS PECULIAR INCIDENTS OF A BUSH FIGHT.

Although the pirates were taken aback by this unexpected advance of the Rajah's gun-boat to within pistol-shot of their very doors, they were by no means cowed. Malays are brave as a race, and peculiarly regardless of their lives. They manned their guns, and stood to them with unflinching courage, but they were opposed by men of the same mettle, who had the great advantage of being better armed, and led by a man of consummate coolness and skill, whose motto was—"Conquer or die!"

We do not say that the captain of the gun-boat professed to hold that motto, for he was not a boaster, but it was clearly written in the fire of his eye, and stamped upon the bridge of his nose!

The pirate-guns were soon dismounted, their stockade was battered down, and when a party at last landed, with the captain at their head, and Edgar with his diving friends close at his heels, they were driven out of their fortification into the woods.

Previously to this, however, all the women and children had been sent further into the bush, so that the attacking party met none but fighting-men. Turning round a bend in a little path among the bushes, Edgar, who had become a little separated from his friends, came upon a half-naked Malay, who glared at him from behind a long shield. The pirate's style of fighting was that of the Malay race in general, and had something ludicrous, as well as dangerous, about it. He did not stand up and come on like a man, but, with his long legs wide apart and bent at the knees, he bounded hither and thither like a monkey, always keeping his body well under cover of the shield, and peering round its edges or over, or even under it, according to fancy, while his right hand held a light spear, ready to be launched at the first favourable moment into the unprotected body of his adversary.

Edgar at once rushed upon him, snapping his revolver as he ran; but, all the chambers having been already emptied, no shot followed. Brandishing his cutlass, he uttered an involuntary shout.

The shout was unexpectedly replied to by another shout of "Aileen, to the rescue!" which not only arrested him in his career, but seemed to perplex the pirate greatly.

At that moment the bushes behind the latter opened; a man in ragged shirt-sleeves and torn trousers sprang through, whirled a mighty club in the air, and smote the pirate's uplifted shield with such violence as to crush it down on its owner's head, and lay him flat and senseless on the ground.

"Mr Hazlit!" gasped Edgar.

The merchant bounded at our hero with the fury of a wild cat, and would have quickly laid him beside the pirate if he had not leaped actively aside. A small tree received the blow meant for him, and the merchant passed on with another yell, "To the rescue!"

Of course Edgar followed, but the bush paths were intricate. He unfortunately turned into a wrong one, when the fugitive was for a moment hidden by a thicket, and immediately lost all trace of him.

Meanwhile Rooney Machowl, hearing the merchant's shout, turned aside to respond to it. He met Mr Hazlit right in the teeth, and, owing to his not expecting an assault, had, like Edgar, well-nigh fallen by the hand of his friend. As it was, he evaded the huge club by a hair's-breadth, and immediately gave chase to the maniac—for such the poor gentleman had obviously become. But although he kept the fugitive for some time in view, he failed to come up with him owing to a stumble over a root which precipitated him violently on his nose. On recovering his feet Mr Hazlit was out of sight.

Rooney, caressing with much tenderness his injured nose, now sought to return to his friends, but the more he tried to do so, the farther he appeared to wander away from them.

"Sure it's a quare thing that I can't git howld of the road I comed by," he muttered, as with a look of perplexity he paused and listened.

Faint shouts were heard on his left, and he was about to proceed in that direction, when distinct cries arose on his right. He went in that direction for a time, then vacillated, and, finally, came to a dead stand, as well as to the conclusion that he had missed his way; which belief he stated to himself in the following soliloquy:—

"Rooney, me boy, you've gone an' lost yoursilf. Ah, bad scran to 'ee. Isn't it the fulfilment of your grandmother's owld prophecy, that you'd come to a bad ind at last? It's little I'd care for your misfortin myself, if it warn't that you ought to be helpin' poor Mr Hazlit, who's gone as mad as blazes, an' whose daughter can't be far off. Och! Man alive," he added, with sudden enthusiasm, "niver give in while there's a purty girl in the case!"

Under the impulse of this latter sentiment, Rooney started off at a run in a new and totally unconsidered direction, which, strange to say, brought him into sudden and very violent contact with some of those individuals in whom he was interested.

Here we must, in hunters' language, "hark back" on our course for a few minutes—if, indeed, that be hunters' language! We do not profess to know much thereof, but the amiable reader will understand our meaning.

Just after the attack had begun, and Mr Hazlit had sallied from the hut with his war-club, as already related, Aileen became deeply impressed with the fact that all the women and children who had been wont to visit and gaze at her in wonder had vanished. The rattling of shot over her head, too, and the frequent rush of pirates past her temporary abode, warned her that the place was too much exposed in every way to be safe. She therefore sought to rouse her companion to attempt flight.

"Laura," she said, anxiously, as a round shot cut in half the left corner-post of the building, "come, we must fly. We shall be killed if we remain here."

"I care not," exclaimed Miss Pritty, clasping her friend closer than ever, and shuddering; "my worst fears have been realised. Let me die!"

"But I don't want to die yet," remonstrated Aileen; "think of me, dear, if you can, and of my father."

"Ah, true!" exclaimed Miss Pritty, with sudden calmness, as she unclasped her arms and arose. "Forgive my selfishness. Come; let us fly!"

If the poor lady had owned a private pair of cherubic wings, she could not have prepared for flight with greater assurance or activity. She tightened her waist-belt, wrapped her shawl firmly round her, fastened her bonnet strings in a Gordian knot, and finally, holding out her hand to her friend, as if they had suddenly changed characters, said, "Come, are you ready?" with a tremendous show of decision. She even led the wondering Aileen along a winding path into the jungle for a considerable distance; then, as the path became more intricate, she stopped, burst into tears, laid her head again on its old resting-place, and said in a hollow voice:—"Yes; all is lost!"

"Come, Laura, don't give way; there's a dear. Just exert yourself a little and we shall soon be safe at—at—somewhere."

Miss Pritty made a vigorous struggle. She even smiled through her tears as she replied:—"Well, lead on, love; I will follow you—to death!"

With her eyes tightly shut, lest she should see something hideous in the woods, she stumbled on, holding to her friend's arm.

"Where are we going to?" she asked, feebly, after a few minutes, during which Aileen had pulled her swiftly along.

"I don't know, dear, but a footpath must lead to something or somewhere."

Aileen was wrong. The footpath led apparently to nothing and nowhere. At all events it soon became so indistinct that they lost it, and, finally, after an hour's wandering, found themselves hopelessly involved in the intricacies of a dense jungle, without the slightest clew as to how they should get out of it.

Aileen stopped at last.

"Laura," she said, anxiously, "we are lost!"

"I told you so," returned Miss Pritty, in a tone that was not quite devoid of triumph.

"True, dear; but when you told me so we were not lost. Now we are. I fear we shall have to spend the night here," she added, looking round.

Miss Pritty opened her eyes and also looked round. The sight that met her gaze was not encouraging. Afternoon was drawing on. Thick bushes and trees formed a sort of twilight there even at noon-day. Nothing with life was visible. Not a sound was to be heard, save such little rustlings of dry leaves and chirpings as were suggestive of snakes and centipedes. The unhappy Laura was now too frightened to shudder.

"What shall we do?" she asked; "shriek for help?"

"That might bring pirates to us instead of friends," said Aileen. "Listen; do you hear no sound?"

"Nothing," replied Miss Pritty, after a few moments of intense silence, "save the beating of my own heart. Aileen," she continued, with sudden anxiety, "are there not serpents in these woods?"

"Yes, I believe there are."

"And tarantulas?"

"Probably."

"And tortoises?"

"I—I'm not sure."

"Darling, how can we sleep among tortoises, tarantulas, and serpents?"

Even Aileen was at a loss for a reply, though she smiled in spite of herself.

"I'll tell you what," she said, cheerfully, "if we must spend the night in the bush we shall get into a tree. That will at least save us from all the venomous creatures as well as dangerous beasts that crawl upon the ground. Can you climb?"

"Climb!" repeated Miss Pritty, with a hysterical laugh, "you might as well ask me if I can dive."

"Well, you must learn. Come, I will teach you. Here is a capital tree that seems easy to get into."

Saying this, Aileen ran to a gnarled old tree whose trunk was divided into two parts, and from which spread out a series of stout branches that formed a sort of net-work of foliage about eight or ten feet from the ground. Climbing actively up to these branches, she crept out upon them, and from that position, parting the twigs, she looked down laughingly at her friend.

Her bright spirit was contagious. Miss Pritty almost forgot her anxieties, smiled in return, and walked towards the tree, in doing which she trod on something that moved in the grass. A piercing shriek was the result. It was immediately replied to by a wild yell at no great distance.

"It was only a frog; look, I see it now, hopping away. Do be quick, Laura; I am sure that was the yell of a savage."

No further spur was needed. Miss Pritty scrambled up into the tree and crept towards her friend with such reckless haste that one of her feet slipped off the branch, and her leg passing through the foliage, appeared in the regions below. Recovering herself, she reached what she deemed a place of security.

"Now, dear, we are safe—at least for a time," said Aileen, arranging her friend's disordered dress. "Take care, however; you must be careful to trust only to limbs of the tree; the foliage cannot bear you. Look, you can see through it to the ground. Lean your back against this fork here; sit on this place—so; put your foot on this branch, there—why, it is almost like a chair—hush!"

It was quite unnecessary to impose silence. They both sat among the branches as motionless as though they had been parts of the tree. They scarce dared to breathe, while they peered through the foliage and beheld the dim form of a man advancing.

Whoever he was, the man seemed to growl as though he had been allied to the beasts of the jungle. He came forward slowly, looking from side to side with caution, and, stopping directly under the tree of refuge, said—

"Musha!" with great emphasis, then placing both hands to his mouth he gave vent to a roar that would have done credit to a South African lion.

As neither of the ladies understood the meaning of "Musha," they listened to the roar with a thrill of unutterable horror. Miss Pritty, as if fascinated, leant forward, the better to observe her foe. Suddenly, like the lightning-flash, and without even a shriek of warning, she lost her balance and dived head-foremost into the bosom of Rooney Machowl!

Well was it for the bold Irishman that Miss Pritty was a light weight, else had he that day ended his career in the jungles of Borneo. As it was he went down like a shock of corn before the scythe, grasped Miss Pritty in an embrace such as she had never before even imagined, and proceeded to punch her poor head.

Then, indeed, she made herself known by a powerful scream that caused the horrified man to loose his hold and spring up with a torrent of apologies and self-abuse.

"Och! it's not possible. Baste that I am! Oh ma cushla astore, forgive me! It's a gorilla I thought ye was, sure, for I hadn't time to look, d'ee see. It's wishin' you had staved in my timbers intirely I am."

Rooney's exclamations were here cut short, and turned on another theme by the sudden appearance of Aileen Hazlit, who soon found that her friend was more alarmed than hurt.

"I am so glad you have found us, and so surprised," said Aileen, who had met Rooney in England during one of her visits to Joe Baldwin's abode, "for we have quite lost ourselves."

Rooney looked a little awkwardly at the fair girl.

"Sure, it's glad I am myself that I've found you," he said, "but faix, I'm lost too! I do belave, howiver, that somebody's goin' to find us."

He turned his head aside and listened intently. Presently a cry was heard at no great distance. It was replied to by another.

"Pirates," said Rooney, in a hoarse whisper, drawing a cutlass from his belt.

As he spoke another cry was heard in an opposite direction.

"Friends!" exclaimed Rooney. "Sure we're surrounded by friends and foes! Come, git into the tree, ladies. I'll give a hail, an' if the varmin should come up first, I'll kape them in play. Don't show yer purty faces dears, an' be as aisy as ye can."

So saying, Rooney gave vent to a true British cheer, while the ladies ascended once more into the tree.

The cheer was instantly replied to by counter-cheers and howls. A minute more and two half-naked Malays, armed with spears and long shields, bounded into the clear space and attacked the Irishman, but Rooney had placed his back to the tree and was ready for them. Although he was scarcely a match for two such men, whose peculiar and bounding mode of fighting he did not understand, Rooney nevertheless quickly disabled one by the sheer strength of a blow, which cut through the shield and wounded his enemy's head. The other he sprang upon like a wild cat and grappled with him. At that moment a third Malay glided on the scene, brandished his spear, and stood by the swaying combatants awaiting a favourable opportunity to thrust his weapon into the white man's back. He stood right under the branch in which the ladies were concealed. Miss Pritty saw his intention and felt convinced he would succeed. In desperate alarm at the danger of her protector, and horrified at what she was about to do, she grasped the pirate by the hair and tore out a large handful, at the same time uttering shriek upon shriek mingled with appalling bursts of hysterical laughter.

This saved Rooney, who turned just in time to protect himself, but as he did so six more pirates leaped upon the scene and overpowered him. They also sprung up the tree, and quickly brought down the ladies.

Poor Miss Pritty had gone fairly off into violent hysterics by that time. She was carried down in the arms of a pirate, into whose hair she had permanently fastened her ten fingers, while she filled the woods with unearthly cries.

Before any advantage, however, could be taken of this success, a cheer was heard close at hand. Next moment, Edgar Berrington burst on the scene, followed by the captain of the gun-boat and a body of men. The pirates did not await them, but fled instantly.

"Fire a volley, lads," shouted the captain.

The men obeyed, and one or two yells told that it had not been without effect, nevertheless, all the miscreants escaped with the exception of Miss Pritty's captive, who, unable to clear himself from her close embrace with sufficient speed, was collared and throttled into submission by Edgar.

"We'll divide our force here," said the captain. "I'll follow them up a while with some of the boys, and you, Mr Berrington, will return with the rest to the gun-boat, in charge of the ladies."

Edgar was about to object, but the captain silenced him at once with:—

"Come, sir, you're under my orders. Do what I bid you."

There was no resisting this, so Edgar turned, not unwillingly, and gave his arm to Aileen, who seized it with a grateful eagerness that sent a thrill of delight through all his frame.

"Come along, my lads," he cried. "Take care of Miss Pritty, poor thing!" he added, turning to Rooney.

The Irishman obeyed. He stooped and lifted her in his arms. She had been lying in a state of semi-insensibility with her eyes tightly shut. The moment she felt herself being lifted, she clutched her protector by the hair, and held on, shrieking.

"Ay, tug away, cushla!" said Rooney, as he moved after his friends, "it's not much of that ye'll manage to root up."

"Have you seen my father?" asked Aileen, anxiously, as they moved on together.

"He is safe," answered Edgar; "I found him exhausted in the hut which he told me you had occupied, and had him conveyed on board the gun-boat."

"Thank God!" exclaimed Aileen, fervently, "but," she added, with a slight shudder, "it seemed to me as if his mind had been unhinged—and— and he was wounded."

"A mere scratch on the temple," said Edgar, "yet sufficient, with surrounding circumstances, to account for the temporary madness that assailed him. Fear not, Aileen, he is safe now, through God's mercy, and you shall soon be safe beside him."

A feeling of deep gratitude and restfulness stole over the poor girl's spirit, and she almost wept for joy as they stepped into a small boat, and were rowed over the calm water to the gun-boat, which lay, black and still, under the deep shadow of a bank of luxuriant foliage.

"My child," said Mr Hazlit, sadly, as they reclined together on the couches of the little cabin, while Edgar sat on a camp-stool near them, Miss Pritty having been consigned to the captain's berth, "they tell me that this fearful work is not yet over. There is to be more fighting and bloodshed."

"How? What do you mean, papa?"

"Tell her, Mr Berrington."

"We have just had news sent us by a fast row-boat from a town about sixty miles along the coast that a large fleet of pirate-prows have been seen off the coast. They have taken several trading prows, and captured many men belonging to the Sarawak territory, besides several Chinamen. When our captain completes his work on shore here, he intends to start at once in chase of these pirates, in the hope of destroying them and freeing their slaves."

"God help us," said Aileen, "it seems as if men in this part of the world, gloried in pouring out blood like water."

"Some of them undoubtedly do. Perhaps it may reconcile your mind to the destruction of these miscreants to know that for every one killed there will probably be saved the lives of dozens—if not hundreds—of innocent men and women, whom he would have murdered, or doomed to hopeless slavery, in the course of his wicked career."

As Edgar spoke, the sound of oars was heard. Presently the captain and his men leaped on deck. The moorings were cast loose, our hero took his station at the engine, and the gun-boat glided swiftly down the river, leaving the pirate stronghold in flames.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

LIFTS THE CURTAIN SLIGHTLY AS TO PIRATICAL DOINGS IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.

Silently they glided on, until the shades of evening fell, and the brilliant stars came out. Silently, for the gun-boat went at half-speed; silently, for her engines were good and new, and worked softly without the jarring of age or mal-construction; silently, because those on board were in a tranquil mood, and did not raise their voices above a low murmur.

"How romantic," said Aileen, in a low tone, as she sat by the stern-rail and watched the gleaming track left by the screw; "how enjoyable, if we could only forget what has just passed, and the object we have in view. The world is a mystery!"

"Is this the first time you have thought so?" asked Edgar, who leaned on the rail near her.

"Well, I think it is," she replied, with a sad smile; "at least it is the first time I have been deeply impressed with the thought."

"It is a very old thought," returned the youth, musingly. "Philosophers from the earliest times have recorded it. Thoughtful men and women of all ages have expressed it. Young people of all generations fancy they have discovered it. The Bible is a key which opens up much of it, and makes it plain; but much still remains in mystery, and I suppose will continue so to remain, till Time merges in Eternity."

"Do you think such mystery undesirable?" asked Aileen.

"No. It is desirable, else God would not have left it there. 'Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?' There is a need be, I doubt not, for mystery, and there is no need for our being distressed by it, for what we know not now we shall know hereafter. But there is much cause for anxiety lest we, either through wilful ignorance, or carelessness, or stupidity, should allow that to remain involved in mystery which is made plain by revelation. The way of salvation was an insurmountable mystery to me once, but since you gave me that poor man's Testament, Aileen, it has become very plain and very dear to me, through Jesus Christ."

Aileen thanked God in her heart, and a thrill of gladness filled her, but before she could utter a word in reply, the captain came forward and said in a low tone:—

"Stop the engine, Mr Berrington. We'll lie by in this creek till day-break."

Edgar went below. The vibrating of the boat ceased, and an awful stillness seemed to sink down upon her as she glided into a little creek or bay, which was deeply shaded by mangrove trees.

But the silence did not last long. It was still three hours from daylight, and the captain employed the time in preparations for the action which he anticipated on the following day. The yards were sent down; the decks were cleared of all useless incumbrances; the guns were got ready; and an attempt was made, to some extent, to disguise the vessel, so that, in the event of the pirates being found, the gun-boat might get as near as possible without her true character being discovered. The men, meanwhile, who were not engaged in such work, busied themselves in sharpening cutlasses and cleaning small arms, while they conversed in an undertone. All was activity and order, without fuss or needless noise—the result of a man of the right stamp being in command.

"It's a brush we'll be havin' soon," said Rooney Machowl, with a flash of the eye which told that he inherited a little of his nation's love of fighting.

"Looks like it," replied Maxwell, who sat beside his friend in the midst of a group of the Malay crew, rubbing up his cutlass with much interest.

"Does anybody know how many of a crew we have altogether?" asked Rooney.

"I heard the captain say to Mr Berrington," answered Joe Baldwin, who was busy cleaning a rifle, "that we've got ninety men all told, which is quite enough for a 180-ton vessel. With these and seven guns we should be more than a match for all the pirates of the eastern seas."

"Ho!" exclaimed Ram-stam, looking up from the weapon he was engaged on with an amused expression, "you know noting of pirits of dem seas. Hi! Hi! Wait."

Ram-stam said this with the air of one who held the decided opinion that when he had waited Joe would have his views enlarged.

"What, are they such bold fellows?"

"Ho yis, vely muchee bold. Ca'es for noting. 'Flaid of noting. Doos a'most anyting—'cept what's good."

"Swate cratures," murmured Rooney; "I hope we'll be introdooced to aich other soon."

As it is desirable that the reader should have a little more extended knowledge of the miscreants referred to, we will retrace our steps in time a little, and change the scene.

On one of those sweltering mornings in which the eastern seas appear to have a tendency to boil under the influence of the sun, three piratical junks might have been seen approaching a small island which lay on the sea as if on a mirror. They were propelled by oars. The largest of these junks was under command of our red-jacketed acquaintance, Pungarin. It was what is termed double-banked, and the oars were pulled by "slaves," that is to say, the crews of trading vessels recently captured.

Pungarin had more slaves than he knew what to do with on that occasion. He had been unusually successful in his captures. All the white men taken had at once been slaughtered, also all who attempted to give the pirates trouble in any way, including those who chanced to be too weak, ill, or old to work. In regard to the rest, each man was secured to his place at the oar by means of a strip of cane, called rattan, fastened round his neck, and a man was appointed to lash them when they showed symptoms of flagging. This the unhappy wretches frequently did, for, as on a former occasion to which we have referred, they were made to pull continuously without food or water, and occasionally, after dropping their oars through exhaustion, it took severe application of the lash, and the discovery of some unusually sensitive spot of the body, to rouse some of them again to the point of labour.

The junks were strange, uncouth vessels, of considerable size, capable, each, of containing a very large crew. They might almost have been styled "life-boats," as they had hollow bamboos wrought into their structure in a manner which gave them great buoyancy, besides projecting beyond the hulls and forming a sort of outside platform. On these platforms the slaves who rowed were fastened. In each vessel there were at least forty or fifty rowers.

Pungarin walked up and down his poop-deck as if in meditation, paying no regard to what was going on around him until a feeble cry was heard from one of the rowers,—a middle-aged and sickly man. The pirate captain looked carelessly on, while the overseer flogged this man; but the lash failed to arouse him, and the captain ordered the man to desist—but not in mercy.

"Over with him," he said, curtly, and then resumed his walk.

The slave-driver drew his knife, and cut the rattan that bound the man, who turned his dying eyes on him with an imploring look.

At that moment one of the pirates, who from his dress and bearing seemed to occupy a position of authority, stepped upon the platform and looked at him. He gave a brief order to one of his comrades, who brought a large piece of cork and fastened it to the slave's neck. He also brought a short spear, with a little flag at its handle. This he thrust a few inches into the fleshy part of his shoulder, and then pushed him off the platform into the sea. Thus the wretched creature was made to float, and, as he went astern, some of the pirates amused themselves by shooting at him with their muskets.

Now, gentle reader, don't shut your eyes and exclaim, "Oh! Too horrible." It is very much because of that expression of yours, and the shutting of your "gentle," (we would rather say selfish) eyes that these accursed facts exist! Yes, we charge it home on you so-called "soft ones" of the earth, that your action,—namely, shutting your eyes,—does probably as much, if not more, to perpetuate horrible evil as does the action of open godlessness,—that condition which is most aptly expressed by the world's maxim, "every man for himself and the devil for us all."

Do not imagine that we presume to invent such things or to exaggerate for the sake of "sensation." We relate well-authenticated facts. We entertain strong doubts as to whether devils are, in any degree, worse than some among the unsaved human race. There is great occasion for you, reader, whoever you are, to know and ponder such facts as we now relate. We are too apt to regard as being applicable only to the past these words, "the dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty." If we were to fill our book with horrors from beginning to end, we should only have scratched the surface of the great and terrible truth. Assuredly now, not less than in days of old, there is urgent need of red-hot philanthropy.

But we gladly pass from the cruel to the cunning phase of piratical life. These villains had at that time been about six months on their cruise. They had made the entire circuit of Borneo, murdering, and plundering, and striking terror and desolation wherever they went. The scenes enacted by Norse pirates in the tenth century were repeated in the middle of the nineteenth by a people who, unlike the Norsemen, had no regard whatever for law; and now they were returning home laden with booty.

The pirate-chiefs usual mode of procedure on such occasions was to go to an unfrequented island in the neighbourhood of Singapore, land all his warlike stores and prisoners, and, leaving them under a strong guard, proceed with two of his prows loaded to the gunwale with merchandise, to the port. The merchant-boats which he had previously sunk, and whose crews he had murdered, provided him with "port-clearances," which enabled him to personate the trader and regularly enter and clear the customs at Singapore, so as to cause no suspicion; then, returning to his place of rendezvous with a fresh supply of guns, ammunition, etcetera, he divided his ill-gotten gains and recommenced his piratical expeditions.

On the present occasion, however, Pungarin had received intelligence which induced him to modify his plans. Hearing that a gun-boat was in pursuit of him, he determined to change his rendezvous for the time.

The weary slaves were therefore again set to work at the oars; but "kind Nature" took pity on them. A breeze sprang up and increased into a gale, under the influence of which the prows sped out to sea and soon left the islands far behind them.

It was while thus attempting to evade their enemy that the pirates had the misfortune to run at last into the very jaws of the lion.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

A FIGHT WITH MALAY PIRATES.

At six o'clock in the morning, the tide suiting, the gun-boat crept out to sea, and steamed slowly along the coast to the southward, keeping a good look-out. They soon discovered sundry prows, but, after ordering them to come alongside, found that they were legitimate traders. Thus the day was spent in a vain search, and at night they returned to their anchorage, as it was not possible to make any discoveries in the dark.

Next morning, at the same hour, they steamed out to sea again, intending to keep about twelve miles off the coast, so as to be able to command a broad expanse of water in every direction; but before they had got two miles from the anchorage, three prows were observed about four or five miles to seaward.

"That looks like the rascals," observed the captain, as he surveyed them through the glass.

"Indeed," said Mr Hazlit, who, rather pale and weak from his recent unwonted experiences, leaned in a helpless manner on the quarter-rails.

"Yes; they pull forty or fifty oars, double-banked," returned the captain, wiping his glass carefully. "They've got heavy guns on board, no doubt. We shall have to protect our boiler."

The gun-boat was so small that a portion of her steam-case was unavoidably exposed above deck. A shot into this would have been disastrous. Orders were therefore given to surround it with bags of coal, which was promptly done.

"And, one of you," said the captain, turning to the man who chanced to be nearest him, "go into the cabin and bring up the sofa cushions; we shall want them to protect the legs of the men stationed on the poop."

Rooney Machowl happened to be the man who received this order. He at once descended.

"By your lave, Miss," he said, with a bashful air; "I'm sorry to ask a lady to git up, but it's the capting's orders—he wants the cushions."

"By all means," said Aileen, with a smile; "why does he want them?"

"Plaze, Miss, to protect our legs, savin' yer presence."

Somewhat puzzled, and not a little amused by the reply, Aileen rose and allowed the cushion on which she sat to be removed. These cushions were placed in the nettings on the poop, which was much exposed, to arrest the enemy's bullets.

In a few minutes it was seen that the three prows were doing their best to get into shoal water, where the steamer could not have followed them. In this effort one of them was successful, for although the gun-boat's course was changed in order to cut her off, she managed to run on shore, whence the pirates immediately opened fire. The other two, seeing there was no possibility of accomplishing the same feat, ceased rowing, and also opened fire, at a distance of about five or six hundred yards.

"We shall attack from our port side," said the captain to his chief officer; "let the guns be laid accordingly."

The armament of the gun-boat consisted of two nine-pounder guns, one on the forecastle, and one on the poop; one twelve-pounder, just before the bridge; and four six-pound brass carronades. These were all soon ready, but the order was not given to fire till they had got to within a hundred yards of the pirates, who were now pelting them smartly with small arms.

The captain stood on the bridge, the most commanding and, at the same time, the most exposed position in the vessel. He wore a cap, from under which his black eyes seemed to twinkle with fire and mischief.

He soon observed that the two prows, wincing under his fire, were edging for the shore. With that reckless resolution, therefore, to which all true heroes give way at times—not excepting Nelson himself—he resolved to run them down.

The recklessness of this consisted in the fact that his vessel was not a "ram," but built of comparatively thin plates. The necessity for it lay in the certainty that a few minutes more would enable the prows to gain shallow water and escape.

"Besides," thought the captain to himself, as he walked up and down the bridge with his hands in his pockets, while bullets whistled round his head, "even a thin plate can stand a good strain when struck end-on. Never venture, never win!"

Giving the order "full-speed" to the engineer, and "port your helm a little—steady" to the man at the wheel, the captain quietly awaited the result.

The result was most effective. The gun-boat went at the prow like a war-horse; her sharp bow struck one of the pirate vessels fair amidships and cut her in two pieces, launching her crew and captives into the sea!

She then backed astern, and made for the other prow, but she, laying to heart the fate of her companion, made for the shore as fast as possible. It was in vain. The gun-boat ran into her and sank her immediately, but so nearly had they succeeded in their intention, that there were only six inches of water under the steamer's keel when she backed out.

"Lower the boats," shouted the captain, the instant his object had been accomplished; and it was not a moment too soon, for the sea all round was alive with human beings, some of whom evidently waited to be picked up, while others swam vigorously for the shore. In a short time, about a hundred men were rescued, most of whom were slaves—only ten being pirates. There was no difficulty in distinguishing between pirates and slaves, because the latter wore the "rattan" round their necks, in addition to which their spitting on the pirates, and furiously abusing them for past cruelty, and their falling down and kissing the feet of their deliverers, made the distinction abundantly clear.

Most of the other pirates gained the shore, but we may here finally dismiss them, and relieve the reader's mind by stating that they were afterwards hunted down and slain to a man by the natives of that district, who entertained a deadly, and very natural hatred of them, having suffered much at their hands in time past.

While the rescued captives were going about excitedly telling of the shocking barbarities that had been practised on them, the captain discovered among them a Singapore native who could speak a little English. Taking this man aft, he questioned him closely.

"Are there any more pirate-junks hereabouts?" he said.

"Yis; tree more."

"Whereaway?"

"Hout seaward. Not know how far. Longish way off, me tink. We was sent off from dem last night, after all de goods an' money was tooked out of us. What for, no kin tell. Where tothers go, no kin tell."

"They've got lots of captives aboard, I suppose?" said the captain.

"Ho! Great lots," replied the Singapore man.

"And lots of treasure too, no doubt."

"Ho! Very greater lots of dat."

After obtaining all the information he could from this man and from the other passengers, the captain steamed out to sea in a westerly direction, keeping a man at the mast-head to look out. The captives were in the meanwhile made as comfortable as circumstances would admit of, and the ten pirates were put in irons in the hold.

As the morning advanced, the sun increased in power and splendour. Not a breath of wind ruffled the sea, which shone like a mirror, reflecting perfectly the sea-birds that accompanied them. Everything was so calm and peaceful that the captain sent a message to Mr Hazlit and his daughter to request them to come up and enjoy the fresh air.

During the brief action described, they had been sent below to be out of danger. They obeyed the summons, and even Miss Pritty was induced by Aileen to come on deck.

Poor Miss Pritty! Her hysterical fit was now quite over, but pale cheeks and a trembling exhausted frame told eloquently of her recent sufferings. Mr Hazlit's limbs were also shaky, and his face cadaverous, showing that his temporary aberration of reason had told upon him.

"Oh how delicious!" exclaimed Miss Pritty, referring to the atmosphere, as she sank into an easy-chair which the captain placed for her. "Are these the pirates?" she added, shuddering, as her eyes fell on some of the rescued people.

"No, Miss Pritty," answered the captain, "these are the freed captives. The pirates are in irons in the hold."

"You had to fight, I suppose?" continued Miss Pritty, shutting her eyes and pursing her mouth with the air of one who braces herself to face the inevitable.

"Well, we could hardly call it fighting," answered the captain, with a smile, as he cleaned the glasses of his telescope and swept the horizon carefully; "we had a round or two of the guns, and a few bullets whistled about our ears for a little—that was all."

"Was any one wounded—k-killed?" asked Miss Pritty, opening her eyes with an anxious look; "and oh!" she added, with a sudden expression of horror, as she drew up her feet and glanced downwards, "perhaps the decks are—no," she continued sinking back again with a sigh, "they are not bloody!"

At that moment the man at the mast-head reported three prows, just visible on the horizon ahead.

"I suppose we must go below again," said Aileen, sadly, after the captain returned from the bridge, to which he had gone to examine the prows in question.

"Not yet, Miss Hazlit. It will probably be an hour ere we come up with them. You'd better enjoy the morning air while you may. I'll warn you in good time."

Aileen therefore remained on deck for some time with her father, but poor Miss Pritty, on the first intimation that more pirates were in sight, got up hastily, staggered with a face expressive of the utmost horror into the cabin, flung herself into the captain's berth, thrust her head under the pillow, piled the clothes over that, and lay there— quaking!

She quaked for full half an hour before anything happened. Then she felt a hand trying to remove her superincumbent head-gear. This induced her to hold on tight and shriek, but, recognising Aileen's voice, she presently put her face out.

"Don't be so terrified, dear," said Aileen, scarce able to repress a smile.

"I can't help it," answered her friend, whimpering; "are the—the pirates—"

"They are not far off now. But don't give way to needless alarm, dear. Our captain sent me below because he is going to fight them, and you know he is sure to win, for he is a brave man. He says he'll run them all down in a few minutes."

"Oh!" groaned Miss Pritty, and with that, pulling her head in like a snail, she resumed quaking.

Poor Aileen, although talking thus bravely to her friend, was by no means easy in her own mind, for apart from the fact that they were about to engage three pirate-junks, manned by hundreds of desperate men, she could not repress her shrinking horror at the bare idea of men talking coolly about shedding human blood. To one of her imaginative nature, too, it was no small trial to have to sit alone and inactive in the cabin, while the bustle of preparation for war went on overhead; we say alone, because her father, although there, was too much exhausted to act the part of companion or comforter in any degree.

Meanwhile the gun-boat approached close to the enemy, and it soon became apparent that they meant to fight—trusting, no doubt, to their very decided superiority in numbers.

"They mean mischief," said the captain, as he shut up his telescope.

"Faix, an' they'll git it too," replied Rooney Machowl, who chanced to be near at the time, though the remark was not addressed to him.

To this the captain made no reply, save by a grim curl of his black moustache, as he once more ascended to his exposed position on the bridge. From this outlook he could see plainly that the pirates were lashing their three prows together, and training all their guns on one side, where the attack was expected. As each prow mounted twelve guns, they could thus fire a broadside of thirty-six heavy pieces, besides small arms.

The men of the gun-boat were now all at their quarters, eagerly awaiting the order to begin. The captain descended and went round among them, so as to inspect everything with his own eye.

"Now, lads," he said, in passing, "remember, not a single shot till I give you positive orders."

He returned to the bridge. Although naturally disinclined to parley with scoundrels, he felt that he had a duty to perform, and resolved to go close up, and, if possible, induce them to surrender. But he was saved the trouble of attempting a parley, for while yet six hundred yards off, a regular volley burst from the sides of the pirate vessels.

Again the black moustache curled, but this time with a touch of ferocity, for the shot partly took effect, cutting the rigging to some extent, killing one man of the crew, and wounding several. A musket-ball also struck his own cap and knocked it off his head.

"Just hand that up," he said, pointing to the cap.

One of the men obeyed, and the captain, taking a look at the hole, replaced it. Still he gave no order to fire, although the pirates were seen to be busily re-loading.

Hanging up to within a hundred yards, the captain looked quickly at his men.

"Port, a little," said he to the man at the wheel.

"Are you ready?"

"Ay, ay, sur," from Rooney Machowl, in a deep bass undertone.

"Fire!"

As if but one piece had been fired the whole broadside burst from the side of the gun-boat, shaking the little vessel violently. Miss Pritty's voice came up responsive with an unearthly yell!

"Load!" was instantly ordered, and so quickly was it obeyed that before the enemy were ready with their second volley the gun-boat had charged and fired again, doing great damage.

There being no wind, a dense cloud of smoke from the three volleys settled down on the water and completely hid them and their enemy from each other.

"Steam ahead, full-speed," signalled the captain to Edgar Berrington.

The screw instantly whirled, and under cover of the dense veil, the active little vessel moved away just in time to escape a murderous volley of shot, shrapnel, and ball, which was poured into the smoke she had left behind her! The pirates followed this up with a wild cheer and a brisk fire of musketry, which only ceased when, discovering their mistake, they beheld the gun-boat emerge from the smoke, steer round the end of their line, and, slewing to port, deliver another volley of great guns and small arms, that raked them all from stem to stern, doing terrible execution both to the prows and their crews.

Thus the gun-boat played round and round the enemy, always maintaining the distance of about a hundred yards, and keeping up the action as fast as they could load and fire. The pirates, on their part, fought with the courage of trained men of war and with the ferocity of tigers at bay—who ask and expect no mercy. And thus they fought for no less than three hours.

One reason why the pirates were able to hold out so long lay in the fact that their prows were surrounded by a thick matting made from a certain palm-leaf, which, although it could not prevent shot from passing through, concealed the men who lay behind it, and so prevented the riflemen of the gun-boat crew from taking aim. In order to get the better of this difficulty, the latter fell into the way of watching for the puffs of smoke that came through the matting, and firing at these puffs.

Conspicuous among the pirates for his coolness, daring, and utter disregard of his life, was one tall, powerful fellow in a red jacket. Every one guessed him at once to be a chief among the pirates, and this question was soon settled by some of the recently freed captives, who recognised him as being the great chief of the fleet—Pungarin.

He went about the deck of his prow, which occupied the centre of the line, encouraging his men to rapid action, and often pointing the guns with his own hands.

Many rifle-shots were fired at him, but in vain. He seemed to bear a charmed life.

"Can none of you pick him off?" said the captain of the gun-boat.

Twenty rifles replied to the words, and the man's red jacket was seen to be torn in many places, but himself remained unhurt!

At last the pirate-guns were silenced in two of the prows, only the chief's maintaining an obstinate fire. This vessel would have been much sooner silenced, no doubt, but for the ferocity of Pungarin. When his men, driven at last by the deadly fire of the assailants, forsook a gun and sought refuge behind the matting, the pirate-chief would promptly step forward and serve the gun himself, until very shame sometimes forced his men to return.

At last all the guns were disabled but one, and that one Pungarin continued to serve, uninjured, amid a perfect storm of shot.

"The fellow has got the lives of twenty cats," growled the captain, as he turned to give directions to the steersman, which brought the gun-boat still closer to the enemy. The effect of a well-delivered volley at this shorter range was to cut the fastenings of the three prows, thus permitting them to separate.

This was precisely what was desired, the captain having resolved to run the pirates down one at a time, as he had done before. He would not board them, because their superior numbers and desperate ferocity would have insured a hand-to-hand conflict, which, even at the best, might have cost the lives of many of his men. The instant, therefore, that the prows were cut adrift, he gave the order to back astern. At the same moment Pungarin was heard to give an order to his men, which resulted in the oars being got out and manned by the surviving pirates and slaves, who rowed for the land as fast as possible. Their escape in this way, however, the captain knew to be impossible, for they were now fully twenty-five miles from shore. He therefore went about his work leisurely.

Backing a considerable distance, so as to enable his little war-horse to get up full-speed, he took careful aim as he charged.

It was interesting to watch the swart faces and glaring eyeballs of those on board the first prow, as the gun-boat bore down on them. Some glared from hate, others obviously from fear, and all seemed a little uncertain as to what was about to be done. This uncertainty was only dispelled when the prow was struck amidships, and, with a tremendous crash, cut clean in two. Simultaneous with the crash arose a yell of mingled anger and despair, as pirates and prisoners were all hurled into the sea.

Again the order was given to go astern. The steamer immediately backed out of the wreck. After gaining a sufficient distance the engines were reversed, and the little vessel bore down on another prow.

This one made violent efforts to evade the blow, but the captain had anticipated as much. His orders were sharp; his steersman was prompt. The cut-water did its duty nobly, and in a few seconds another pirate vessel was sent to the bottom.

The sea was now swarming with human beings in all directions, some clinging to any scrap of wreck they could lay hold of, some paddling about aimlessly and roaring for help, while others swam steadily in the direction of the land. These last were chiefly pirates, who had evidently made up their minds to escape or drown rather than be captured.

As it was evident that many of those struggling in the water would be drowned in a few minutes, the captain delayed his attack on the third prow, and ordered the boats to be lowered. This was done promptly, and many of the poor victims captured by the pirates were rescued and brought on board. A few of the pirates were also picked up. These had jumped overboard with their "creases" and other weapons in their hands, and were so vindictive as to show fight furiously in the water when the sailors attempted to save them. Many of the men suffered from this. Poor Rooney Machowl was among the number.

He pulled the bow-oar of his boat, and hauled it in on drawing near to any one, so as to be ready to catch the hand of the swimmer, or make a grasp at him. As they approached one of the swimmers, Rooney observed that he had a short twisted sword in his hand, and that he looked over his shoulder with a fierce scowl. Nevertheless, as he leaned over to the rescue, it did not occur to the worthy man that the swimmer meant mischief, until he saw the twisted sword leap from the water, and felt the point of his nose almost severed from his face!

"Och! You spalpeen," cried Rooney, with a yell of intense indignation and pain.

He was about to follow this up with a blow from his powerful fist that would have sent the pirate at least a fathom of the way down to the bottom, but the sword again leaped upwards, causing him to start back as it flashed close past his cheek, and went right over the boat into the sea. At the same moment a Malay seized the pirate by an ear, another grasped him by an arm, and he was quickly hauled inboard and bound. "Here, Joe Baldwin," cried Rooney to his comrade, who pulled an oar near the stern of the boat, "for anny favour lind a hand to fix on the pint o' my poor nose. It was niver purty, but och! It's ruinated now past redimption."