Blue Jackets: The Log of the TeaserFenn, George Manville
General
Blue Jackets: The Log of the Teaser
Fenn, George Manville
Chinese -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories
"Well, young gentlemen," he said, when Barkins, who as eldest had been
spokesman, finished his recital, "I can do nothing. If you had all
three been brutally murdered, of course the Government could have made
representations to the authorities, and your families would have secured
compensation."
We glanced at one another.
"But as, unfortunately--I mean fortunately--you have neither of you got
a scratch, I can do nothing."
"But they were so awfully savage with us, sir," said Smith.
"Yes, Mr Smith, so I suppose. It is their nature; but we cannot punish
an unknown mob. We must try and administer the castigation
vicariously."
"Please, sir, I don't understand you," said Smith. "Do you mean--"
"Set a vicar to talk to them, Mr Smith? No, I do not. I mean, as we
have very good information about three or four piratical junks being in
the straits between here and Amoy, we must come down heavily upon them,
and administer the punishment there."
Mr Reardon nodded, and rubbed his hands.
"This scrape of yours, though, will be a most severe lesson to me,"
continued the captain. "It was very weak and easy of me to give you all
leave for a run ashore. I ought to have referred you to Mr Reardon.
But you may take it for granted that I shall not err again in this way.
You can return on deck."
"Oh, what a jolly shame!" grumbled Barkins. "And there was old Reardon
chuckling over it, and looking as pleased as Punch. Who'd be a middy?
It's like being in a floating prison."
But it was a very pleasant floating prison all the same, I could not
help thinking, as we gradually got farther out from the land, over which
the sun was sinking fast, and lighting up the mountain-tops with gold,
while the valleys rapidly grew dark. Every one on the clean white deck
was full of eager excitement, and the look-out most thoroughly on the
_qui vive_. For the news that we were going up northward in search of
some piratical junks sent a thrill through every breast. It meant work,
the showing that we were doing some good on the China station, and
possibly prize-money, perhaps promotion for some on board, though of
course not for us.
We had been upon the station several months, but it had not been our
good fortune to capture any of the piratical scoundrels about whose
doings the merchants--Chinese as well as European--were loud in
complaint. And with justice, for several cruel massacres of crews had
taken place before the ships had been scuttled and burned; besides,
quite a dozen had sailed from port never to be heard of more; while the
only consolation Captain Thwaites had for his trips here and there, and
pursuit of enemies who disappeared like Flying Dutchmen, was that the
presence of our gunboat upon the coast no doubt acted as a preventative,
for we were told that there used to be three times as many acts of
piracy before we came.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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