Under the Waves: Diving in Deep Waters

He went about the deck of his prow, which occupied the centre of the line, encouraging his men to rapid action, and often pointing the guns with his own hands.

Many rifle-shots were fired at him, but in vain. He seemed to bear a charmed life.

“Can none of you pick him off?” said the captain of the gun-boat.

Twenty rifles replied to the words, and the man’s red jacket was seen to be torn in many places, but himself remained unhurt!

At last the pirate-guns were silenced in two of the prows, only the chief’s maintaining an obstinate fire. This vessel would have been much sooner silenced, no doubt, but for the ferocity of Pungarin. When his men, driven at last by the deadly fire of the assailants, forsook a gun and sought refuge behind the matting, the pirate-chief would promptly step forward and serve the gun himself, until very shame sometimes forced his men to return.

At last all the guns were disabled but one, and that one Pungarin continued to serve, uninjured, amid a perfect storm of shot.

“The fellow has got the lives of twenty cats,” growled the captain, as he turned to give directions to the steersman, which brought the gun-boat still closer to the enemy. The effect of a well-delivered volley at this shorter range was to cut the fastenings of the three prows, thus permitting them to separate.

This was precisely what was desired, the captain having resolved to run the pirates down one at a time, as he had done before. He would not board them, because their superior numbers and desperate ferocity would have insured a hand-to-hand conflict, which, even at the best, might have cost the lives of many of his men. The instant, therefore, that the prows were cut adrift, he gave the order to back astern. At the same moment Pungarin was heard to give an order to his men, which resulted in the oars being got out and manned by the surviving pirates and slaves, who rowed for the land as fast as possible. Their escape in this way, however, the captain knew to be impossible, for they were now fully twenty-five miles from shore. He therefore went about his work leisurely.

Backing a considerable distance, so as to enable his little war-horse to get up full-speed, he took careful aim as he charged.

It was interesting to watch the swart faces and glaring eyeballs of those on board the first prow, as the gun-boat bore down on them. Some glared from hate, others obviously from fear, and all seemed a little uncertain as to what was about to be done. This uncertainty was only dispelled when the prow was struck amidships, and, with a tremendous crash, cut clean in two. Simultaneous with the crash arose a yell of mingled anger and despair, as pirates and prisoners were all hurled into the sea.

Again the order was given to go astern. The steamer immediately backed out of the wreck. After gaining a sufficient distance the engines were reversed, and the little vessel bore down on another prow.

This one made violent efforts to evade the blow, but the captain had anticipated as much. His orders were sharp; his steersman was prompt. The cut-water did its duty nobly, and in a few seconds another pirate vessel was sent to the bottom.

The sea was now swarming with human beings in all directions, some clinging to any scrap of wreck they could lay hold of, some paddling about aimlessly and roaring for help, while others swam steadily in the direction of the land. These last were chiefly pirates, who had evidently made up their minds to escape or drown rather than be captured.

As it was evident that many of those struggling in the water would be drowned in a few minutes, the captain delayed his attack on the third prow, and ordered the boats to be lowered. This was done promptly, and many of the poor victims captured by the pirates were rescued and brought on board. A few of the pirates were also picked up. These had jumped overboard with their “creases” and other weapons in their hands, and were so vindictive as to show fight furiously in the water when the sailors attempted to save them. Many of the men suffered from this. Poor Rooney Machowl was among the number.

He pulled the bow-oar of his boat, and hauled it in on drawing near to any one, so as to be ready to catch the hand of the swimmer, or make a grasp at him. As they approached one of the swimmers, Rooney observed that he had a short twisted sword in his hand, and that he looked over his shoulder with a fierce scowl. Nevertheless, as he leaned over to the rescue, it did not occur to the worthy man that the swimmer meant mischief, until he saw the twisted sword leap from the water, and felt the point of his nose almost severed from his face!

“Och! You spalpeen,” cried Rooney, with a yell of intense indignation and pain.

He was about to follow this up with a blow from his powerful fist that would have sent the pirate at least a fathom of the way down to the bottom, but the sword again leaped upwards, causing him to start back as it flashed close past his cheek, and went right over the boat into the sea. At the same moment a Malay seized the pirate by an ear, another grasped him by an arm, and he was quickly hauled inboard and bound. “Here, Joe Baldwin,” cried Rooney to his comrade, who pulled an oar near the stern of the boat, “for anny favour lind a hand to fix on the pint o’ my poor nose. It was niver purty, but och! It’s ruinated now past redimption.”

“Not a bit, man,” said Joe, as he bound up the injured member by the simple process of tying a kerchief right round his friend’s face and head; “it’ll be handsomer than ever. There was always too much of it. You can afford to have it reduced.”

Rooney did not quite seem to appreciate this comforting remark; however, after his nose was bound he and the rest of the boat’s crew continued their work, and soon returned on board the gun-boat with a mixed lot of pirates and captives. Of course the rescuers were more careful in approaching the swimmers after Rooney’s misfortune, but in spite of this many of them were wounded by the pirates slashing at them with their swords and knives, or flinging these weapons violently into the boats.

In a short time all were saved who yet remained above water. Then the boats were hauled up and the steamer gave chase to the prow in charge of the pirate captain, which was by that time far away on the horizon.

Chapter Twenty.

The Fight concluded

The nautical proverb saith that “A stern chase is a long one;” but that proverb, to make it perfect and universally applicable, should have been prefaced by the words “All things being equal.”

In the present case all things were not equal. The gun-boat was a fast steamer; the chase was a slow row-boat, insufficiently manned by tired and wounded men. But many of them were desperate men. Their leader was an arch-fiend of resolution and ferocity. He knew that escape, in the circumstances, was impossible. He was well aware of the fate that awaited him if taken. He therefore made up his mind to give his enemies as much trouble as possible, to delay their triumph and cause it to cost them dear, and, in every practicable way that might occur, to thwart and worry them to the end.

Animated by such a spirit, he managed to encourage his men, and to terrify and lash his slaves to almost superhuman exertions, so that before being overtaken they approached considerably nearer to the shore than would otherwise have been the case. This, as it afterwards turned out, resulted in a benefit to some of those in the gun-boat, which they did not think of at the time. As they overtook the prow, Pungarin ordered the starboard rowers to cease. Those on the port side continued to pull, and in a few seconds the prow’s broadside was brought to bear on the approaching enemy. Not till they were within a hundred yards did the pirate leader again speak. Then his powerful voice resounded through his vessel:—

“Fire!”

At the word every piece on board the prow, great and small, belched forth a volume of smoke, flame, and metal, but the result was trifling. In his anxiety to do deadly execution, the pirate had overdone his work. He had allowed his foe to come too close, and most of the discharge from the heavy guns passed over her, while the men with small arms, rendered nervous by prolonged delay, fired hastily, and, therefore, badly. A few wounds were suffered, and many narrow escapes were made, but in other respects the discharge passed by harmlessly. The captain, in his exposed and elevated position on the bridge, felt, indeed, as if a thunder-shower of iron hail had passed, not only round, but through him! He paid no regard to it, however, but held straight on. Next moment there was a dire collision; the prow went under water, and the surface of the sea was covered with shouting and struggling men.

The boats were quickly lowered, as on the previous occasion, and most of the people were rescued, though, of course, some who could not swim were drowned.

The scene that now ensued was very exciting, and in some respects very terrible, for, besides the gurgling cries of the perishing, there were the defiant yells of the pirates, who, more fiercely than those in the other prows, resisted being taken alive, and used their creases and knives with deadly effect.

This naturally filled the conquerors with such indignation that in many cases they killed the pirates who showed fight, instead of disarming and capturing them.

At last every one in the water was either saved, killed, drowned, or captured, with the exception of one man, whose red jacket clearly pointed him out as the pirate-chief. Being greatly superior to his fellows in mental and physical powers, it was natural that he should excel them in his efforts to escape. Even after the whole affair was over, this man, who might have been a hero in other circumstances, continued to baffle his pursuers.

In the boat which finally captured him was the Singapore man already mentioned. This man, for reasons best known to himself, had a bitter hatred of Pungarin, and was the chief cause of the boat in which he pulled an oar being kept in close pursuit of the pirate-chief.

“Dis way,” he cried, when the general mêlée was drawing to a close. “Yonder is de red-coat. He make for de shore.”

The steersman at once turned in the direction indicated, which brought them close to the gun-boat.

Pungarin’s keen eye quickly observed that they were making towards him, although the water around him swarmed with other men. He at once dived and came up close to the side of the vessel, under its quarter, and in dangerous proximity to its screw. The boldness of the course might have diverted attention from him for a time, but his one touch of vanity—the red jacket—betrayed him. He was soon observed. A cry was given. His sharp-eyed enemy the Singapore man saw him, and the boat was once more pulled towards its mark. But Pungarin dived like an otter—not only under the boat, but under the steamer also; coming up on the other side, and resting while they sought for him. Again they discovered him. Again he passed under the ship’s bottom, and this time continued his dive onwards towards the shore. When his power of remaining under water failed, he came gently to the surface, turning on his back, so that only his mouth and nose appeared.

One full breath sufficed, and he dived again without having been observed. If Pungarin had adopted this plan while the boats were busy capturing his comrades, it is possible that he might have escaped, for his swimming powers and endurance were very great; but it was now too late. When he rose the second time to the surface, the affair was over, and men’s minds were free to fix entirely on himself. Just then, too, he thought it advisable to put his head fully out of the water in order to see that he had kept in the right direction.

He was instantly observed by his Singapore enemy, and the chase was resumed.

It is almost unnecessary to say that it terminated unfavourably for the pirate-chief. For several minutes he continued to dive under the boat while they tried to seize him, and wounded some of the men nearest to him; but his Herculean powers began at last to fail, and he finally floated on the surface as if helpless.

Even this was a ruse, for no sooner was the boat near enough, and the Singapore man within reach of his arm, than he raised himself, and made a cut at that individual with such good will that he split his skull across down nearly to the ears.

Next moment he was hauled into the boat and bound hand and foot.

The scene on board the gun-boat now was a very terrible one. Every man there was more or less begrimed with powder and smoke, or bespattered with blood and soaked with water, while all round the decks the wounded were sitting or lying awaiting their turn of being attended to, and groaning more or less with pain.

On calling the roll after the action was over, it was found that the loss suffered by the gun-boat crew was two men killed and eighteen wounded—a very small number considering the time during which the affair had lasted, and the vigour with which the pirates had fought.

And now was beautifully exemplified the advantage of a man possessing a “little knowledge”—falsely styled “a dangerous thing”—over a man who possesses no knowledge. Now, also, was exhibited the power and courage that are latent in true womanhood.

There was no surgeon on board of that gun-boat, and, with the exception of Edgar Berrington, there was not a man possessed of a single scrap of surgical knowledge deeper than that required for the binding up of a cut finger.

As we have already shown, our hero had an inquiring mind. While at college he had become intimately acquainted with, and interested in, one or two medical students, with whom he conversed so much and so frequently about their studies, that he became quite familiar with these, and with their medical and surgical phraseology, so that people frequently mistook him for a student of medicine. Being gifted with a mechanical turn of mind, he talked with special interest on surgery; discussed difficulties, propounded theories, and visited the hospitals, the dissecting-rooms, and the operating-theatres frequently. Thus he came, unintentionally, to possess a considerable amount of surgical knowledge, and when, at last, he was thrown providentially into a position where no trained man could be found, and urgent need for one existed, he came forward and did his best like a man.

Aileen Hazlit also, on being told that there was need of a woman’s tender hand in such work, at once overcame her natural repugnance to scenes of blood; she proceeded on deck, and, with a beating heart but steady hand, went to work like a trained disciple of Florence Nightingale.

To the credit of the timid, and for the encouragement of the weak, we have to add that Miss Pritty likewise became a true heroine!

No average individual, male or female, can by any effort of imagination attain to the faintest idea of poor Miss Pritty’s horror at the sight of “blood!”—“human gore!” particularly. Nevertheless Miss Pritty, encouraged by her friend’s example, rose to the occasion. With a face and lips so deadly pale that one might have been justified in believing that all the blood on the decks had flowed therefrom, she went about among the wounded, assisting Aileen in every possible way with her eyes shut. She did indeed open them when it was absolutely necessary to do so, but shut them again instantly on the necessity for vision passing away. She cut short bandages when directed so to do; she held threads or tapes; she tore up shirts, and slips, and other linen garments, with the most reckless disregard of propriety; she wiped away blood from wounds (under direction), and moistened many dry lips with a sponge, and brushed beads of perspiration from pale brows—like a heroine.

Meanwhile Edgar went about actively, rejoicing in his new-found capacity to alleviate human suffering. What the Faculty would have thought of him we know not. All on board the gun-boat venerated him as a most perfect surgeon. His natural neatness of hand stood him in good stead, for men were bleeding to death all round him, and in order to save some it was necessary that he should use despatch with others. Of course he attended to the most critical cases first, except in the case of those who were so hopelessly injured as to be obviously beyond the reach of benefit from man. From these he turned sadly away, after whispering to them an earnest word or two about the Saviour of mankind—to those of them at least who understood English. To waste time with these he felt would be to rob hopeful cases of a chance. All simple and easy cases of bandaging he left to the captain and his chief officer. Joe Baldwin, being a cool steady man, was appointed to act as his own assistant.

From one to another he passed unweariedly, cutting off portions of torn flesh, extracting bullets, setting broken bones, taking up and tying severed arteries, sewing together the edges of gaping wounds, and completing the amputation of limbs, in regard to which the operation had been begun—sometimes nearly finished—by cannon shot.