Stan Lynn Part 40

"Capital," he cried.

"If the men are not scared away by a rush of the enemy," said Stan thoughtfully.

"That we must chance," said Blunt. "But I do not think we shall be troubled that way, for the men who are retiring from the wall must keep the enemy in check. I propose being at the farther door: do you feel as if you could stand your ground with some of the men to hold this door till all is safe?"

"I haven't much confidence in myself," said Stan rather excitedly, "but I will try my best."

"You can't do better," replied Blunt quietly.

"You see, I am not a man," added Stan.

"No, not in years; but you can try to act like one."

"Yes, I'll do that," said Stan.

"And here's a bit of encouragement for you. I shall have four of our best fellows at each of the windows over these two doors. They'll keep up such a rifle-rattle as is bound to check the Chinamen for a bit, besides which the men with you will keep on shooting till the last board is in its place."

"And what about fire?"

"Ah! that's the weak spot, my lad," said Blunt, with a sigh. "They may not think of burning us out, but if they do--well, we have our supply of water and the buckets all ready. We can do no more. If they do start a blaze we must put it out. That is all that need be said: _must_ put it out; and we will."

A look round on the first floor showed everything ready for the defence that could be devised, and after inspecting this, with the open windows and breastworks ready for firing over, Blunt descended with his young lieutenant to inspect the cartridge supplies, one of the most trusted clerks being in charge of these. And then, to Stan's intense satisfaction, for he had long been all of a fret, Blunt led the way out to the wharf, where the lad started in wonder, if not in alarm, to see the progress the junks had made: for there they were, six in all, well in the strait, and sailing steadily down like gigantic, great-eyed water-dragons making for the victims it was their mission to destroy.

For clearly enough now, as they were seen end-on by the watchers, each displayed on either bow a huge, grotesque, but cleverly painted eye, giving them the aspect of fabled monsters of the deep which had risen to the surface in search of prey, and were now leering with malicious satisfaction as they glided on.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

"KILL ALLEE PILATE."

"This will be your station, Lynn," said Blunt as they pa.s.sed along inside the thickest wall till they reached the bale bastion, where the manager halted. "You take that wide loophole shelter yourself at the side; there's a capital place for resting your rifle, and with such a steady support, and as you will be able to cover so wide a sweep of the enemy's advance, I shall expect you to make a good score."

"A good score!" said Stan in a tone of voice full of disgust. "Any one would think I was going to shoot at a target."

"At a good many targets," said Blunt.

"Yes, human beings. You don't really mean to say you want me to kill as many of those unfortunate wretches as I can?"

"Unfortunate? They haven't proved to be unfortunate until they are badly beaten. Yes, that is what I mean. I want you to kill or disable every one of the enemy at whom you can get a shot."

"And do you think I could be so bloodthirsty?"

"I think you know us all pretty well here, and would be sorry to see us cut to pieces by a set of savages who are coming down in full force to the attack."

"Cut to pieces!" said Stan contemptuously.

"Yes," continued Blunt sternly; "cut to pieces--literally. I am making use of no high-flown figure of speech. I know from what I have heard and seen that these piratical Chinamen, after shooting down the people they attack, finish by spearing or beheading every fallen man; and then the braves, as they call themselves, go round with their big razor-edged swords and hack their victims to pieces."

"Ugh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Stan, with a shudder of horror.

"I think you will see that it is better for you to help us to the best of your ability with your rifle and bring down as many as possible.

Mercy is a fine thing, and I dare say I should be content with taking a man prisoner who dropped upon his knees and threw down his arms; but Chinese pirates neither drop upon their knees nor throw down their arms.

Now look here, my lad; you are young and naturally shrink from shedding blood, but this is no time for being squeamish. You are not going to fight against ordinary human beings, but against a set of fiends who live by robbery and the murder of their victims--men, women, and innocent children."

Stan was silent for a few moments, and in that short period his face grew so lined that he looked years older.

"Is this perfectly true, Mr Blunt?" he said at last in a husky voice that did not sound like his own.

"On my word as a man who is about to stand up and face death, and may before an hour is over be lying on his back with his dead eyes gazing straight up beyond the clouds. You hear me?"

"Yes," said Stan firmly.

"And you'll do your best for the sake of those who would be ready to encourage you if they were here, for our sake, and for your own?"

"Yes, I'm quite ready now," replied Stan firmly.

"That's right. Then shake hands, my lad."

"What for?" asked Stan.

"Because," was the reply, given in a grave, solemn tone, "we may never have the chance again."

"You think it is as bad as that?"

"Quite," was the reply as hand pressed hand. "There! we shall be at it soon, and I'm sorry, Lynn. When you first came I thought I should always detest you as a young meddler sent here to be in my way."

"But you don't think so now?" said Stan, smiling.

"Quite the contrary, my lad. There! we've talked enough. Only one word or so more. Keep cool, load steadily, and fire only when you feel sure of your man. Never hurry. Recollect that one carefully taken shot is worth a score of bad ones, which mean so much waste of ammunition.

There! I'm off now to talk to the rest. I'll come and be with you as much as I can."

"Thank you; but I can see what you have done. You've put me in one of the best-sheltered places, and you are going to expose yourself in the most dangerous."

"You are only partly right, my lad. I have not put you in one of the best-sheltered places, but I am going to expose myself in one of the worst as much as I can, and that is here--the place where I have stationed you."

Stan's next words slipped out unconsciously:

"Why have you put me in the most risky place?"

"Because I saw that you liked shooting since you brought your gun and revolver, and I gathered so, too, from your conversation and the way in which you handled that rifle. Now are you satisfied?"

Stan nodded, and the next minute he was alone, but with men at all the loopholes near.

As soon as he was left to himself a peculiar chill came creeping over him. Blunt's words seemed to be ringing in his ears about being face to face with death, and in imagination he pictured the aspect of his newly made friend lying stark and stiff gazing up into the skies. He would have given anything in those brief minutes to have seen him come back, not to act as a shield from the firing too soon to begin, but so as to have his companionship; for, near though the others were, the little bastion seemed to be horribly lonely, and the silence about the great warehouse too oppressive to bear.

But as the boy--for he was a mere boy after all--stood at the opening with his hand grasping the barrel of the rifle whose b.u.t.t rested between his feet, and gazing out at the glittering river, his image-forming thoughts became blurred; the figure of Blunt pa.s.sed away, and another picture formed itself upon the retina of his eyes. There before him were the smoking ruins of a native village, and, so horribly distinct that he shuddered and turned cold again, there lay in all directions and att.i.tudes the slaughtered victims of the pirates' attack, and all so ghastly that the lad uttered a peculiar sibilant sound as he sharply drew in his breath between his teeth.

The next instant the chill of horror had been swept away with the imaginary picture--imaginary, but too often real in a country where the teeming population hold human life to be cheap as the dirt beneath their feet--and Stan, with his brows knit, was carefully c.o.c.king and unc.o.c.king his rifle to see if the mechanism worked accurately, before throwing open the breech to take out and replace the cartridge, when he closed it smartly and looked out at the coming junks, which glided nearer and nearer like fate.