Stan Lynn Part 63

"You gave them a severe lesson last time, Stan," said Blunt after watching the manoeuvres of the enemy for a few minutes, not a swivel-gun nor _jingal_ being fired as the junks were worked up in a double line close alongside of the wharf, where great hooks were thrown ash.o.r.e, as well as from junk to junk. "They're not going to waste time, but are coming on for a big a.s.sault all at once."

"Yes, that's it," said Uncle Jeff calmly. "Well, we must shoot down their leaders, and if the rest come on they'll have a hard job to get in at any of the windows."

The gongs kept on their monotonous booming, while the watchers with bated breath noted that the previous losses had made no perceptible difference, the decks of the clumsy vessels being as thronged as ever, while more discipline was visible, parties of men working together under leaders, and with a wonderful absence of confusion.

"They mean mischief, uncle," said Stan, who found it hard to bear the waiting, his young blood being full of excitement, and he was longing to begin.

"So do we, my boy," said Uncle Jeff coolly; "more than they expect. I don't want to brag, but I learnt to be a good shot, and I feel as if I can't miss a man at this short distance. You feel the same, don't you?"

"No, uncle; I feel my hands all of a shake, and as if I should miss every one I shot at."

"Never mind. Fire away steadily when you begin, boy. As I said before, they are so close that it will not matter; if you miss one man you are sure to hit another."

"But it does seem so murderous, uncle," whispered Stan pa.s.sionately.

"A mistake, boy: not murderous; it's only justice. We are playing the parts of executioners to criminals."

"Ah! I thought so," said Blunt suddenly.

"Thought what?" cried Stan, who felt glad that the discussion was at an end.

"Look at that smoke rising out from the middle of every junk."

"Stink-pots!" cried Stan excitedly.

"The fire to light them from," was the reply.

Blunt was rights for in a few minutes scores of wreaths of black smoke were rising out of the little fleet, and as soon as the horrible missiles were well alight the sounding of the gongs stopped for a minute. Then three heavy bangs were given from the nearest boat, and directly after the decks were seen clear of the horrible smoke, and seemed to have suddenly begun to bristle with matchlock barrels, pitchforks, tridents, and spears, while every now and then a gleam of sunlight flashed from some heavy sword-blade.

The scene was weird and strange, for the rapid motion of the crowding crews set the smoke wreathing and floating here and there, while the soft morning breeze wafted the clouds, one minute revealing the deadly preparations, the next hiding all in smoke.

"A grand sight, Stan," said Uncle Jeff.

"Yes, and such a lovely morning, too," replied the lad.

"Ah! The more fools the enemy not to go peaceably to work or play, and enjoy it, instead of coming out a-murdering for the sake of a few bales of silk and chests of tea. They will have it, so it is not our fault.

I'm in hopes, however, that they'll soon have had enough of it when we give them a taste of what we can do. Hullo! Look out! Here they come."

"Ah-h!" came like a gasp from Stan's chest as he let the breath he had been holding escape.

For the enemy, in answer to six heavy booms from one gong, were now waiting motionless, as if they had been carefully drilled to perform some special evolution.

Then one loud resounding bang, and there was a yell from every junk.

_Crash_! went a dozen gongs then, with their beaters toiling furiously, and every junk was full of motion, their occupants pouring over the sides of the three first on to the wharf, while their places were taken by those in the three outer junks lashed to the inner, and a rush was made for the wharf as fast as room was made.

The yelling continued, but there was no firing as yet, all waiting till the whole of the pirate force was on sh.o.r.e ready.

Meanwhile the movements had augmented the thick smoke of the stink-pots, whose contents now began to burn fiercely, sparks and flashes of flame darting through the black fumes.

"Now," cried Blunt suddenly after literally torturing those he commanded by his reticence; "leaders only."

For several showily dressed, red-hatted men began to marshal their forces previous to a general advance, sending the stink-pot bearers to the front, ready for the orders for an advance, which seemed to be imminent. Blunt's command was given just as the leaders began to wave their swords and the bearers of the barbaric hand-grenades took a step forward; but no sooner was the order to fire given than three rifles rang out, and three of the leaders went down; while, as directly after a ragged volley came from the warehouse loopholes, down went the other three leaders, in company with several of the stink-pot bearers, and with them all the carefully inculcated discipline. For with a savage yell of fury the whole body of men dashed across the wharf towards the barricaded windows, shaking their weapons, firing at random, and finally making way for the companions who were bearing the fuming earthenware vessels, eager to hurl them in at the first opening they could see.

They rushed on bravely enough, and in a few moments the whole building was resounding and echoing with the casting of the fuming pots, blows from bill-hook, hatchet, and spear, shots from _jingals_, and the shouts of the attacking force.

In reply a steady fire was kept up by the defenders at the most prominent of the attacking party, and Uncle Jeff's remarks had plain ill.u.s.tration, for the enemy were literally so thick that where one was missed another was. .h.i.t.

But it seemed to make very little difference. The pirates dashed up to the front, and then dividing, went off to right and left, to hurry yelling round to the back, meet there, and then rush back again, keeping up a fierce hacking and beating at door and barricaded window; firing too, and hurling the blazing pots wherever there seemed to be a chance to make one lodge, but always to find the lower openings invulnerable, and the grenades fall back among them in company with deadly shots.

In the midst of the wild excitement in front men were raised up on their fellows' shoulders to get height before hurling in the pots, or to enable others to reach and make deadly thrusts with their spears through the loopholes.

Vain effort, for the bearers could not reach high enough, and after a few efforts the coolies within served back such of the stink-pots as reached the inside, and returned them on the heads of the spearmen and their bearers, sending the pirates back covered with the blazing material, and yelling with rage and pain, to follow the example set them by others at the former attack and plunge off the wharf into the river.

This a.s.sault was kept up for fully ten minutes, the steady resistance sprinkling the level wharf with wounded and dead; but though little impression was made, the enemy, in their fierce fury, seemed to be in nowise rebuffed. They kept on, their voices and gesticulations combining with their savage faces to enforce upon the defenders what must be their fate should they not succeed in beating their foemen back.

The pressure was kept up without effect till the supply of fiery grenades was exhausted, when, utterly baffled by the calm, steady fire, and discouraged by their utter inability to make an impression, the pirates made a sudden rush back to their vessels. In an instant the firing ceased, the defenders gladly accepting the respite to see to such injuries as had been inflicted, and to extinguish the fire at a couple of spots where the blazing resin was gradually creeping up one corner of the building at a place the coolies had been unable to reach it with the water without exposing themselves to the spears of the enemy.

The damage proved to be slight, and the personal injuries trifling in the extreme, merely calling for a little plastering and a bandage, both being dexterously applied by Wing, who seemed quite at home repairing damages, as Uncle Jeff termed it, the injured coming back to their posts quite as a matter of course, ready for the next onslaught if one came.

Stan clung to the hope that the enemy had learned enough and would now go. But he was soon undeceived, for freshly lit pots began to appear amidships of the junks, and as soon as they were blazing well they were raised, and the men came on again. Then the fight raged once more, being kept on for nearly half-an-hour without a sign of yielding on either side, while, fast growing weary, Stan began to look anxiously from one to the other of his two leaders.

It was not till he had glanced at them for the second time that Uncle Jeff caught his eye, and said quietly as he went on loading and firing:

"They're tough, Stan, but they must give up soon, for they are losing men fast."

"But what about us, uncle?"

"Eh? Oh, we're all right, my lad. Ah! fire at those two mandarin-like fellows who are hounding the men on."

Their two rifles went off together, and the one Stan fired at stopped short and then staggered back towards the nearest junk, while the other made a dash forward and disappeared round the corner of the building.

"Both badly hit, Stan," said Uncle Jeff. "Let us hope that fellow's too much hurt to do any more mischief."

Their attention was taken off again to another party who were making desperate efforts to force one of the windows, but without effect. At last their success looked likely, for one of the men managed to climb high enough to get a knee on the sill of the opening; and help from his companions coming at the right moment, he raised himself up, spear in hand, and was just about to spring in, while others were following, when thrusts were made with a couple of rifle-barrels and the man's balance was destroyed, making him leap backward to avoid a heavy fall, and being caught by his companions, who were surging about beneath the windows.

An exultant yell told the defenders that the enemy were satisfied that this was nearly an accomplishment of their desires, and encouraged now with the thought that the task was possible, the men came on like a furious wave, literally hurling themselves frantically against the walls and, regardless of life, swarming up at every opening.

"Getting warm," shouted Uncle Jeff to Blunt. "Try and keep your men cool; the enemy can't carry this on long."

"I'm doing my best with them," said Blunt, shouting to make his voice heard in the frightful din, and having a narrow escape, for one of the flaming pots came full in his face, to be avoided by a sharp wince, and then crashed down on the floor, where a coolie pounced upon it and dashed it flaming back.

"Good, Stan!" shouted Uncle Jeff in his nephew's ear. "I saw you bring down the fellow who flung that wretched thing. Quick, boy! Fire faster.--Fire, all of you; they're coming on more and more. How many are there of the wretches?"

"I'm firing as fast as I can, uncle," cried Stan; "but I'm afraid that they're doing something round at the back."

"Then don't be afraid--don't be afraid of anything," growled Uncle Jeff.

"We don't want imagination to help the real. That is bad enough.--Hah!

That has settled you, my bloodthirsty scoundrel!" he growled as he reached out and shot a man down. But a spear came darting up and scratched the side of his face, making him utter an angry snarl, while his eyes lit up with rage as he glared through a loophole at the swarming enemy raging about beneath as if nothing but the defenders'