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Middy and Ensign, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 60. Signals Of Distress |
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_ CHAPTER SIXTY. SIGNALS OF DISTRESS The night passed on board the steamer without any alarm, and at daybreak steam was up, and with the men at their quarters and every gun loaded, they set off on their return journey. As the lieutenant said, it was no use to murmur about their misfortune; all they could do was to try and make the best of matters by getting back as soon as possible. He could gladly have gone on at full speed, but caution forbad it. There were mudbanks and turns innumerable; and even going slowly, the length of the vessel was so great that again and again they were nearly aground upon some shoal, or brushed the overhanging trees with their bows. Of one thing the lieutenant felt certain--that they had not been led into this narrow river without some plans being made for keeping them there. Therefore every man was on the alert for an ambush, or something that should stop their further progress towards the mouth of the sluggish stream. It was terribly slow work, and Lieutenant Johnson stamped with impatience as he saw how poorly they progressed, speaking snappishly to Bob Roberts when the latter ventured upon some observation. This went on three or four times, when, feeling hurt by a sharp remark on the lieutenant's part, Bob exclaimed,-- "You needn't be so hard upon me, captain; it was not my fault." Lieutenant Johnson turned upon him angrily, and was about to say something severe, but Bob's injured look disarmed him, and he held out his hand. "I'm hipped, Roberts," he said, and hardly know what I say. "Steady, there; steady!" This to the man at the wheel as they were rounding a point; but the order had a contrary effect to what was intended; it flurried and unsteadied the sailor, who took a pull too much at the spokes, and before anything could be done to check the steamer's speed, her sharp bows had cut deeply into the muddy bank of the river, and she was aground. "Was anything ever so unlucky?" cried the lieutenant; and then he gave order after order. Guns were swung round so as to sweep the bows should the Malays try to board them from the shore; the engines were reversed; the men tramped from side to side of the deck; everything possible was done: but the steamer remained fixed in the mud without a possibility apparently of getting her off. The jungle was of the densest all around, and the men approached the bows with caution, for the head of the steamer was right in amidst dense foliage, and it was quite probable that any number of the enemy might be concealed and ready to hurl spears at the slightest chance. Neither seeing nor hearing signs of the enemy, the lieutenant at last ordered Roberts to try and land and see if the Malays were near. "It's a risky job, Roberts," he said kindly, "but you must take it. I cannot leave the steamer." "Oh, I'll take it," said Bob, coolly, and examining his revolver, he drew his sword, and telling the men to follow, ran forward, scrambled over the bows, and leaped ashore, the men imitating his example, for the bank was only some six or eight feet below the bulwarks. But though they were landed, there was little more to be done, unless they had been provided with billhooks to clear the way. The undergrowth was nearly as dense as a hedge, and after trying in half-a-dozen different ways, and only penetrating some twenty or thirty yards, they were obliged to give up, drenched with perspiration, their flesh full of thorns. "I've got something biting my legs horribly," cried Bob, turning up his trousers, and then giving a shudder of disgust, for half-a-dozen leeches were busy at work making a meal upon him, and several of the sailors were in the same predicament. "There, my lads, we may as well get on board," said Bob, grimly, "I don't like shedding my blood in the service of my country after this fashion. We can do nothing here, and it would puzzle a cat--let alone a Malay--to get through." So they returned on board, satisfied that there was no fear of an attack from that quarter, and the rest of the day was devoted to trying to get the steamer out of her unpleasant predicament. Night fell with the men utterly wearied out, and, in despair, Lieutenant Johnson was taking himself to task for his bad management, as he termed it, when Bob Roberts suddenly seized him by the arm. "What is it, Roberts?" "A shot off yonder in the jungle," he exclaimed. "I did not hear it," was the reply; and they stood listening; but there was nothing but the hum of insects and the distant splash of some reptile in the muddy river. "If we could have only heard some news of those poor fellows, I would not have cared," said the lieutenant after a pause. "Perhaps at this time they are anxiously hoping that help may come, and wondering why we have not sent in search of them; while we, with men and guns, are lying here helpless as a log. Oh, Roberts, it's enough to make a man jump overboard and--" "There it is again," cried Bob. "What?" "A shot!" he cried excitedly. "I'm sure I heard a rifle-shot." "Any of you men hear a shot?" said the lieutenant to the watch. "No, sir; no, sir." "I heard nothing, Roberts," said the lieutenant. "You are excited with exertion. Go below and have a glass of sherry, my lad, and put in a dose of quinine. I can't afford to have you down with fever." "No, thanky," said Bob; "I could manage the glass of wine, but I'm not going to spoil it with the quinine, I'm--There now, what's that? If that isn't a rifle-shot I'm no man." "Then it isn't a rifle-shot," said the lieutenant, grimly. "I heard nothing." "Beg pardon, sir, I think it was a shot." "There's another!" cried Bob, excitedly. "It's our fellows somewhere." There were a couple of distant shots, faintly heard now by all. "You're right, Roberts," said the lieutenant, hastily; "but it is not obliged to be our fellows." "They couldn't have followed up from the island, sir," cried Bob; "so it must be." "Unless it is a party of Malays shooting." "Then they are shooting our men," cried Bob. "They wouldn't be hunting when it's getting dark." "There's another shot," said the lieutenant, now growing as excited as his companion. "What shall we do?" "Fire a big gun," said Bob. "That would be letting our enemies know where we are," said the lieutenant. "Well," said Bob, sturdily, "let 'em know. It will show 'em that we are not afraid of them." "You are right, Roberts," said lieutenant Johnson, quickly. "Unshot the bow gun there." The gun was opened; the shot cartridge drawn out, a blank one substituted; and directly after, the black darkness that had seemed to settle down over them was cut by a vivid flash, and the utter silence that was brooding over the river was broken by the deep-mouthed roar of the great breech-loading cannon. The report seemed to roll off into the distance and echo amongst the mountains; and then, as it died away, they all listened with strained senses for some reply. It came, just as they expected--three rifle-shots in succession. Then a pause, and three more rifle-shots. There was a pause then, and the silence seemed awful, for the report of the great gun had driven every living thing near at hand to its lair. "Three marines," said the lieutenant, sharply, "fire as I give the order. One--two--three!" The three shots rang out at stated intervals, and the men reloaded and fired as before. Then they waited again, and the signal was answered in a peculiar way that left no doubt whatever in the minds of those on board, and a murmur of satisfaction ran through the little crew. And now, for the first time, Lieutenant Johnson began to wonder whether he had doubted the Malay guide without cause. He might have been swept overboard after all, and the hunting-party be really hemmed-in at some stockade. A few moments' consideration, however, showed that this could not be the case, for they had journeyed back many miles before the steamer ran aground; and though the river winded a great deal, it was impossible that the stockade could have been higher up. The firing certainly came from quite another direction, away from the river; and shots that were evidently not signals were now heard again--one or two, then three or four together, as if men were skirmishing, and then came several volleys. There was a fight going on, that was evident; and as the two officers realised this, they felt half-maddened at their helplessness. They wanted to go to the aid of those who were fighting, but it would have been utter madness to have attempted to land with a detachment in the dark and try to hack a way through the jungle. They might have fired signals and had them responded to, but it would have been a helpless, bewildering piece of folly; and with pulses beating rapidly with excitement, and every nerve on the stretch, they felt themselves bound to a state of inaction, still they felt that they could fire signals to guide those who might, perhaps, get nearer, or, if shut in some place, fight the better for knowing that help was so near. They did all they could, sending up a rocket from time to time, and twice, at intervals of about an hour, firing a big gun, each signal eliciting a reply from the distance; and then, at intervals of ten minutes, a rifle was fired, while, when six, seven, and eight bells were sounded, the same number of rifle-shots were heard. It was a night of general watching on board the steamer, no man seeking shelter, though about seven bells the rain began to pour down with all the violence of a storm in the tropics, accompanied by thunder and lightning of the heaviest and most vivid description. For about four hours this kept on, guns being fired in the intervals, when the thunder ceased for a few moments; but no answering shots had been heard for some time. One thing was very evident--the party engaged were entrenched somewhere, and defending themselves, for their answering shots had been no nearer; in fact, all felt that travelling through the dense jungle was impossible until daylight set in. The night was about half gone when the storm ceased as suddenly as it had come on; the clouds were dispersed, and the moon shone out clearly, showing them that the sluggish river was sluggish no longer, but running fast, and threatening to fill up to the top of its high banks, the water coming down evidently from the mountains. This revived the hopes of all on board, and not without reason, for the steamer was gradually shifting her position; and hardly had a boat been lowered, and a hawser made fast to one of the big trees ashore, before she lifted more and more; and in a few moments more, to the delight of all, they felt the branches sweeping the rigging, and the steamer moving free and clear. The men, forgetting discipline, and the need perhaps for silence, gave an involuntary cheer; which ceased on the instant as, from somewhere lower down the stream, there came a faint, "Ship ahoy!" "Ahoy!" was answered. And after a brief colloquy a boat was lowered down, with half-a-dozen marines as well as the crew, Bob Roberts taking command, and cautiously steering her towards where the man who hailed seemed to be. The boat was allowed to descend the stream stern foremost, the men dipping their oars occasionally to keep her head right, and to prevent her being swept down too swiftly. The next minute, at the word, they gave away, and the cutter was run in beneath the branches to where one of the crew stood in the moonlight, with a soldier by his side. "Why, it's Parker!" cried Bob, catching the man's hand. "Parker it is, Mr Roberts, sir," said the man faintly. "I thought we should never have done it, what with the storm and the thick cane. We've about cut our way here." "And the captain and Major Sandars?" cried Bob. "'Bout a mile away, sir, through the jungle, wanting help badly." "Can we get there to-night?" cried Bob. "But jump in my lads, and we'll hear what the lieutenant says. Come: why don't you jump in?" "I'm bet out, sir, and my mate too," said the sailor. "We're a bit wounded, sir. We volunteered to come for help when we first heerd the dear old 'Startler' speak out, but it's been a long job. Will you help us aboard, mates?" Half-a-dozen willing hands soon had the two poor, drenched, wounded, and exhausted men on board the cutter, and five minutes after they were on the deck being questioned by the lieutenant. "I told the captain, sir, as I'd ask you to fire two guns if we got here safe. He's down with fever, sir, and it would cheer him up if he heard the old gal say--begging your pardon--as she was close at hand." The word was given, and a couple of heavy roars from the "old gal," as the sailor affectionately called his ship, bore the news to the captain; and then, in answer to the lieutenant, both of the messengers declared that it would be impossible to get to the helpless party that night. "I wouldn't say so, sir, if I didn't feel," said Parker, "that the lads would only go losing theirselves in the wet jungle, and do no good. If you'd start at daybreak, sir, and take plenty of rum and biscuits, as well as powder and shot, you might get them aboard." Then by slow degrees those on board learned from the worn-out messengers the whole of their experience, and how that since Major Sandars had appealed to the men, and they had sworn to stick together to the last, they had only made journeys of about a mile in length through the dense jungle. The guide was still delirious, and half the men down with sickness or wounds. Food they had had of the most meagre description, and that principally the birds they had shot. Their ammunition was fast failing, and the time seemed to have come that evening to lie down and die, so weak were they, and so pertinacious were the attacks of the enemy--when a thrill of joy ran through every breast as they heard the signal shots, and knew that there was help at hand. _ |
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