Fu-so-li made an almost imperceptible sign to a huge Mongolian, who was resting his hands on the hilt of a double-handled, broad-bladed sword.
Feeling as limp as a rag, Lieutenant-commander Wilverley managed to drag himself up the bridge ladder. He was the first of the drugged victims to recover consciousness, and even then his mind was in a confused state.
“What are we doing, Mr. Viner—? Hello! Where’s the officer-of-the-watch . . . That you, Raxworthy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What in the name of goodness has happened?”
The midshipman explained.
The Owner’s mind became clearer as Raxworthy continued his narrative.
“And I put it about the blighter, sir,” declared the midshipman. “Gave him six hours to surrender his prisoners, and told him we’d open fire if he didn’t. And use aeroplanes; that bluffed him all right. He must have thought we’d some stowed below. It rattled him badly.”
“Where’s that rogue, Ti-so?”
“Don’t know, sir; probably having a good ticking-off from Fu-so-li.”
“And Ming?”
“I placed him under arrest, sir, so as to be on the safe side.”
“I see; well, I hope, Mr. Raxworthy, that your ultimatum—which is highly irregular, let me inform you—will turn up trumps. If it doesn’t, you’ve landed me in a nasty mess. This was to be a sort of diplomatic errand, not a blow-you-to-Hades stunt.”
“It seems to me the only way, sir,” replied the midshipman. “Force is the only argument these fellows understand.”
“Between ourselves, I agree,” said the Owner. “Only I shouldn’t care to proclaim those sentiments at Geneva! Well, we must wait and see what turns up. By Jove! How my head’s aching.”
“Care to turn in, sir?” asked Raxworthy solicitously.
“No fear, not till I’ve seen this through. Another hour to wait.”
“Motor-launch coming down stream, sir!” murmured the yeoman of signals.
Telescopes and binoculars were brought to bear upon the approaching craft. It was the one that had been looted from Blakeborough’s factory. Fu-so-li was not on board, but there were three Chinese and, aft under the canopy, four Europeans.
The launch ran alongside and was made fast.
“Mr. Blakeborough?” asked the Owner, addressing the eldest of the four.
“What’s left of me, sir,” was the reply. “I never expected to be released so soon. It’s almost a miracle.”
He introduced his companion-assistants of the now demolished factory.
The Chinese in the launch began handing up heavy boxes.
“Better start ’em, sir,” suggested Raxworthy. “Just in case they contain lead instead of gold!”
But the bandit chief had realized that it wouldn’t pay to deceive the “foreign devils”. The boxes contained the precious metal right enough.
“Your compensation will be paid out of that, Mr. Blakeborough,” explained Wilverley. “Of course, we can’t do it on the spot. It’s a case for the courts at Shanghai. . . . Hello, what’s this?”
A wicker basket he had handed out of the launch. None of the Chinese could speak English, but when Mr. Blakeborough interpreted the Owner’s question, they replied that it was a present to the Honourable Captain from Fu-so-li.
“Don’t know what I’ve done to warrant a present from the blighters,” commented Wilverley. “If it’s grub we’ll ditch it in case it’s poisoned! Open the thing, Richards!”
The bluejacket addressed pulled out his lanyard-knife and cut the bamboo lashings securing the wicker lid. It revealed a covering of large green leaves, but under the leaves was the gory head of Ti-so.
In a third of the time she had taken to stem the current, Sandgrub made the passage down stream, and thence to Shanghai. Owing to the height of the river, she now ran no risk of getting aground on the shoals.
The drugged officers had recovered their normal state; the expedition had been successful beyond all expectation, but for obvious reasons the manner in which it was carried out had to be veiled with a discreet silence up to a certain point.
The Admiral, of course, had to be informed, but there would be no decorations “dished out” for this particular Yang-tse expedition.
In due course Kenneth Raxworthy was “returned” to the light cruiser Kirkham, but not as a midshipman.
He is now Sub-lieutenant Raxworthy, and amongst other advantages accruing from his new rank is one that he highly appreciates—and that is that he is no longer harried by that awe-inspiring despot as far as midshipmen are concerned, the Commander!
TRANSCRIBER NOTES
Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.
Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.
[The end of Midshipman Raxworthy by Percy F. Westerman]