The navigation of those seas is ticklish work, and we knew that unless great care was taken, we might run the old Roarer on a rock, as we had the little Fawn, with much more serious consequences—once hard and fast, we were not likely to get the old barky off again. A lookout was stationed at the foretop mast-head, and at the fore yard-arms, to watch the appearance of the sea, and give notice of any change of colour; while the hands were at their stations, ready to shorten sail, or to brace the yards sharp up, should any danger appear ahead. Danger, however, was not likely to deter Captain Sharpe in any course which he conceived it his duty to follow.

“These pirates must be put down,” I heard him observe to Mr Blunt. “The only way to do so is to follow them up whenever we can get tidings of them, to burn their villages and their vessels, and to hang them whenever we can catch them in the act. They understand no other kind of treatment. I remember once, in the Mediterranean, capturing a Greek pirate. We let him go, as he showed a letter from the master of a merchantman, in which great gratitude was expressed for the way in which the Greek had behaved. We found, however, that the fellow had plundered the vessel of everything of value immediately after he had got possession of the letter. I caught him again the following year, and asked him how, after once he had been so generously pardoned, he could think of returning to his piratical ways.

”‘Ah, signore,’ he answered, ‘it is our nature. Had you hung me then, I should no longer have gone pirating.’

“We put an effectual stop to his career this time, and he submitted with the most perfect grace; it was our business to hang him—it was his fate to be hung.”

I did not forget our captain’s remarks. I felt much pleased when Mr Ormsby sent to desire that I might attend on him while he lay suffering from his wound.

“I know that I can trust him to you, Junker,” said the surgeon, “and take care he has his medicine at the exact hour I mark down.”

“I am thankful to have you by me, Jack,” said Mr Ormsby. “You have behaved admirably, and I shall always be glad to render you any assistance in my power.”

I will not say that these remarks did not raise me somewhat in my own estimation. I do not see how it could have been otherwise; and vague ideas of what I might perhaps become by-and-by, floated through my mind. I was the son of a marine only, but then he was a sergeant, and my mother was certainly a lady by birth, though she might have been supposed to have lowered herself when she married my honest father. “Well, well, that may be all nonsense,” I thought over and over again, “and yet, if there is an opportunity, I will try to distinguish myself. I may, to be sure, get knocked on the head, and then there will be an end to the matter; but still, people do go through all sorts of dangers, and come out without even a scratch.” All day long the Roarer ran on, when towards evening we stood into a bay, where she brought up. It was supposed that the pirates were hiding away in the neighbourhood, and during the night a bright lookout was kept, lest any of the prows, not aware of our vicinity, might be stealing by. I sat up, as long as I could keep awake, with Mr Ormsby; but at length the surgeon sent me to my hammock, he or one of the midshipmen taking my place. He, however, had a good deal himself to do, looking after the other wounded men. When the sun rose there was not a breath of wind, the water in the bay looking like a polished mirror, so clear, that we could see the fish swimming about, far down below the surface. At length the land breeze came off the shore, the anchor was hove up, and we once more made sail. I may as well say that this sort of work continued for several days. Mr Ormsby was gradually recovering, so that he did not require much of my attendance. Dicky Plumb met me one day.

“Jack,” he said, “I have been making interest, in case there is any boat-work, that I may be employed, and I have asked, if I go, that you may go also. Of course the old Roarer herself is never likely to get hold of any of these fellows. They can see her coming, and hide away without difficulty, but with the boats it may be a very different matter.”

The very day after this we brought up as usual in a sheltered bay, the high points on either side covered with trees completely concealing the ship. It was dusk before we came to an anchor, so that, unless the people on shore had been expressly looking for us, we were very likely to have escaped observation. As soon as the sails were furled, the captain issued an order for five boats to be got ready, and armed with provisions for a couple of days, and it soon became known that he himself intended to lead our expedition in search of the pirates. The captain went in one of the boats, the second-lieutenant with the master and two mates in the others. Dicky told me he was going with Mr Mason.

“And you are to take an oar in the boat, as Barket, who belongs to her, is ill. Depend upon it, we shall see some fun. The captain would not trouble himself, unless he felt pretty sure of bagging a few pirates.”

There was a thin crescent moon in the sky, just sufficient to enable us to see the land, but not affording light enough to betray our approach to any of the people on shore. I should say that two days before we had fallen in with a trading junk proceeding northward. Captain Sharpe had questioned the master, and having treated him very liberally, obtained, I fancy, a good deal of information from him. As the Chinaman sailed away to the northward, there was no danger of his carrying the information of our being on the coast to the pirates, had he been so disposed. He, however, was probably very thankful to us for endeavouring to put an end to the career of those “ocean gatherers of blackmail.”

The men, having had their suppers, got ready for the expedition. We all had pistols in our belts and cutlasses by our sides, while in each boat there were several muskets besides those carried by the marines. In the bow of the launch, as also in that of the pinnace, there was a long brass gun, which could throw a shot well able to send a pirate prow to the bottom in the course of a few discharges. The captain gave the order to shove off, and following him closely, the flotilla of boats pulled away to the southward. I could not help looking every now and then at the big ship, as her dark hull, and masts and yards rose up against the clear sky. Our oars had been muffled, so that the pirates might not be warned of our approach. The only sound heard was the light splash of the blades, as they clove the calm surface of the water, and the light ripple caused by our stems as we glided through it. We had to round a high wooded point, which in a short time hid the ship from our sight. We now coasted along at some distance from the land, but sufficiently near to discover any prows which might be at anchor. Hour after hour we pulled on, but no suspicious craft were seen which might tempt us to overhaul them. Not a word was exchanged between the different boats, for sound is carried at night over a calm sea—especially in that clear atmosphere—to an immense distance, and had we laughed or talked, we might easily have betrayed our approach.

“Slow work this, Mason,” whispered Mr Plumb. “I hope, however, we shall have our reward before long.”

We soon after this saw behind us a high wooded point, very like the one near which the Roarer lay. Just then the captain dropped alongside each boat, and told the officers to be prepared, as he fully believed we should find a fleet of piratical prows on the other side. This put us all on the look-out. Each man might be seen tightening his belt, and feeling to ascertain that his pistol was ready at hand. Keeping close together, we followed our brave leader round the point. Scarcely had we opened the bay, when we made out a large fleet of prows at anchor, close in with the shore. It would have been difficult to count them.

“Lads,” said the captain, as he again dropped alongside, “I expect you to be cool and obey orders. You are to attack each prow in succession. Two will attack one and two the other, and I will move on to wherever I am most required. No cheering till we are actually on board and the vessel is our own. We must make sharp work of it, and I hope daylight will see the pirate fleet either taken or destroyed. No cheering, lads, now. That is just what I expect you to do.”

Saying this, the captain once more took his position at the head of the little squadron. How calm and quiet and peaceable looked that bay! Not a ripple broke the surface of the water, which reflected the stars that glittered in the clear heaven. Like a snake springing on its prey, the line of boats advanced towards the prows. Our approach was not perceived, as far as we could judge. Probably the Malays, trusting in their numbers, and not aware of the neighbourhood of the ship, kept no watch. There was one awkward question, which I suppose our captain had asked himself—Were the people we were going to attack really pirates or honest traders? He, I conclude, had received information which made him sure that they were pirates; if not, that they had been, or would be, if opportunity offered. If they were the gentry who had burned the merchant vessel and attacked the Fawn, they deserved punishment, there was no doubt about that. Steadily we advanced, every moment expecting to have a fire of gingals opened upon us. The pirates slept soundly; not even a dog barked on board any of their vessels. As we got nearer we saw the masts of a square-rigged vessel rising up in their midst. She was probably their prize. This made our captain more certain that they were the pirates he hoped to find. On we steadily went till the leading boat was within twenty yards of a large prow, two others appearing close astern of her, while the others were anchored in line, the barque—for such she appeared to be—inside of all; indeed, from the way she heeled over, we judged that she was aground. There seemed to be every probability of our getting on board unobserved, when suddenly a shout was heard from the deck of the nearest prow, and a bullet directly afterwards whistled over our heads. Numerous other wild cries and shouts arose from the nearest vessel, quickly taken up by those astern of her.

“On, lads!” cried our captain. “Remember my directions?”

Scarcely had he spoken, when his boat dashed alongside the prow, two others following his example; we pushed on to the next. There was no time for thought before we were clambering up her side and engaged hand to hand in a desperate conflict with her dark-skinned crew, looking still darker in the gloom of night, grinning, and shouting, and hacking away at us with their sharp sabres, while others fired their matchlocks and gingals in our faces. Our pistols and cutlasses, were, however, well matched to them; I kept close to Dicky Plumb, who sprang on board with the greatest gallantry. The glitter of Dicky’s uniform seemed to excite the fury of the Malays; three big fellows making a dash at him together. I turned aside the sword of one fellow who was about to cut him down; but it would have gone hard with him, had not Ned Rawlings, who was with us, sprung forward, and with a sweep of his cutlass settled the other two; the remainder of the crew, finding that resistance was vain, leaped overboard, and attempted to swim on shore. No quarter was asked for; the pirates were not accustomed to give it themselves, and probably expected none. In ten minutes not a Malay remained alive on board. According to orders, as soon as we had captured one vessel, we leaped again into our boats, and pulled off to the next; in another instant we were alongside her, with pikes being poked down at us, and matchlocks and gingals fired in our faces. Though two of our men had been wounded, no one as yet had been killed. In spite of the warm reception we met with, we managed to climb on board, and we went through much the same scene as that before enacted; we found the Malays no despicable enemies, for they fought with the greatest desperation, even when all hope of victory had been lost. As on board the other vessel, no one would yield; and after a third of the crew had been killed, the remainder sprang overboard, some being drowned, others, probably, reaching the shore in safety. It might have been wise if we had set the captured prows on fire immediately; but probably our captain wished to recover the cargo of the barque, which they might have got on board, and therefore spared them till there was time to search their holds.

We went on from vessel to vessel, not always seeing what became of those who jumped overboard. We had captured eight or ten in this way, when the remainder were seen to be cutting their cables, and running on shore; at the same time, the first vessel we had captured was observed to be moving; there could be little doubt that the Malays who had jumped overboard from the other prows had contrived to reach her; as she was the largest, and had a considerable amount of cargo on board, they probably thought it worth while running every risk in the hope of escaping with her. Mr Mason was the first to discover what had occurred, and ordered us immediately into the boat; we then pulled away in chase. The prow was making towards a point which formed one side of the bay; she had already got a considerable start before she had been perceived. We had had by this time one of our number killed and two wounded, who, though they persisted in keeping at the oars, could not put forth their usual strength; one, indeed, had before long to give up; still Mr Mason persevered, hoping to overtake the prow before she could reach the shore. As we shoved off from the last vessel we had taken, he shouted to the crew of the boat which had boarded with us, saying where we were going; but probably he was not heard, for we were left to make chase alone. We had four marines with us, who stood up every now and then, and fired at the enemy, but that only made them pull away the faster; we were gaining on them, but not very rapidly. Now and then, the enemy fired at us in return.

“Pull away, lads I pull away!” shouted Dicky every now and then, helping the stroke oar.

The prow was getting nearer and nearer the shore. It seemed very doubtful whether we should overtake her before she reached it. Still, the example set by Captain Sharpe was followed by his officers. His motto was “Persevere,” so was theirs. At length the prow got within twenty fathoms of the beach. We were almost up with her, when the other wounded man I spoke of gave in, sinking down, poor fellow! at his oar. This hindered us when we were almost up to the vessel. Once more we were on the point of hooking on, when the prow dashed high up on the beach. At that moment, a number of men with firearms rushed out from among the trees and rocks, and began peppering away at us.

“We will board her first, and drive them away afterwards,” shouted Mr Mason, springing up the side of the vessel.

Dicky Plumb and I followed him, with Ned Rawlings, the marines covering us with their muskets as we did so. The enemy soon gave way, the greater number rushing over the bows and wading on shore. We had recaptured the prow, but just as we were congratulating ourselves on our easy victory, bright flames burst forth from the fore part of the vessel, spreading rapidly. To extinguish them was impossible.

“To the boats, lads!” shouted Mr Mason, “or the craft may be blowing up and carrying us with her. We must punish these fellows, however.”

The warning came just in time. Scarcely had we jumped into the boat and made towards the beach, than up went the vessel, almost overwhelming us with her burning fragments; indeed, it seemed a wonder that we should have escaped, so close were we at the time. Many pieces, indeed, fell on the outside of us—no large portion, happily, striking the boat. Led by Mr Mason, we dashed on shore, and with our four marines, who had fixed bayonets—the rest of us armed with cutlasses—charged the enemy. They ran away—the wisest thing they could do, but we followed, which was not at all a wise thing. The Malays first fled along the beach, we every now and then firing at them; then they turned inland. Still, as long as we kept sight of them, Mr Mason led us on. Rocks and trees were on either side of us. Just as we were leaving the beach, I thought I heard a shout from the boat, in which were the wounded men and a couple of hands left to keep her afloat. Our blood was up, Mr Mason vowing that, though the Malays might run fast, he would overtake them. We had now got a considerable distance from the beach, when our enemies disappeared. They had evidently concealed themselves among the trees and rocks. It was equally evident that we had done a very foolish thing. All we could now do was to retrace our steps; that, however, was not quite so easy a matter. Before we had moved a hundred yards we discovered that we had lost our way. With daylight we might have found it, but in the darkness we could not discover a glimpse of the sea. Just then we caught sight of numerous dark forms appearing above the rocks and among the trees. Slowly they closed in upon us. We were surrounded by our enemies; there was no doubt about that. They were well armed with matchlocks, for we saw the matches fizzing away at their belts, while we had only four muskets and half a dozen pistols. Our cutlasses and the marines’ bayonets would have enabled us, perhaps, to have fought our way out from among our enemies, could we have seen it.

“There is no help for it; I am afraid it is all up with us, lads!” cried Mr Mason, as some fifty armed men pressed closer and closer round us. “We must sell our lives dearly!”

The threatening gestures of the enemy showed us that we must do this, if we could not escape. An open space, however, appeared before us.

“Fire, and then charge?” cried Mr Mason.

The order was obeyed. Several of the Malays fell, and on we dashed. They, in return, however, poured in a shower of bullets upon us, which knocked over two of the marines, and hit another of the seamen.

“On, on, lads! We must regain the beach!” cried Mr Mason; and we fought our way on for another fifty yards.

The Malays had, however, in the meantime reloaded their pieces, and a second deadly discharge was poured in upon us. Our leader fell, as did the two marines and three more of our men. Ned Rawlings, Dicky, and I, indeed, were the only ones of the whole party untouched. Hearing poor Mr Mason groan, Dicky and I stooped down to lift up his head.

“I just now caught sight of the water,” cried Ned Rawlings. “If you will help him up on my back, I’ll carry him off to the boat.” We instantly lifted Mr Mason on Ned’s broad shoulders, and as the Malays did not press on us, there seemed a possibility of success. They, however, seeing only two persons able to fight, now made a rush towards us. We, of course, thought our last moments had come. Resistance was useless. Instead, however, of cutting us down, they seized us by the arms, wrenched our cutlasses out of our hands, and dragged us along as prisoners. They soon caught hold of Ned, who, however, would not let Mr Mason go. He was soon brought up to where we were. Mr Mason could, by this time, scarcely speak.

“Put me down, my good fellow,” he said, “it is useless; I have received my deathblow; I only hope these fellows will not murder you and the lads. Put me down, I beg you; you only increase my suffering by attempting to carry me.”

Very unwillingly, Ned obeyed him. Mr Mason then made signs to the Malays, entreating them to spare our lives; and trying to explain to them, that if they did so, we should certainly be ransomed, and they would be the gainers. They seemed to understand him, for they held a consultation together, as if to decide what was to be done with us. It was an anxious time, for we knew that they were just as likely to settle to cut off our heads as to allow them to remain on our shoulders. We, meantime, sat down near poor Mr Mason; he had been shot in two places, and though we managed to tie handkerchiefs over the wounds, we could do no more. His voice grew weaker and weaker; at length he made no answer to our remarks, and when I lifted up his hand it fell helplessly by his side.

“He’s gone, lads,” said Ned Rawlings. “He was a brave officer, but he wanted judgment in bringing us into this fix.”

The Malays seemed to have decided to let us live; binding our arms behind us, they dragged us all three off up the country. At length we heard some dogs barking, and lights were seen glimmering ahead; and in a few minutes we found ourselves in the midst of a village of huts, with bamboo-built walls and roofs thatched with leaves. Dawn was just breaking. A number of dark-skinned women and children came out, chattering and screeching, and eagerly pressing round the white prisoners.

“Keep up your spirits, Jack!” said Dicky to me. “If we put a bold face on the matter we are more likely to gain their respect than if we allow them to suppose that we are frightened.”

The inhabitants having satisfied their curiosity, we were carried into a hut, in which we all three were shut up; the furniture consisting only of a mat spread on the ground.

“Can’t say I like the look of those chaps,” said Ned Rawlings to me. “Shouldn’t be surprised but what after all they meant to kill and eat us. I have heard say that there are some chaps in these parts who do that sort of thing.”

“I hope not,” I observed. “I think they would have knocked us on the head at first, if they had intended to do so; and, considering that they must feel rather savage at having their vessels destroyed, we are fortunate in not being killed.”

“Well, the wisest thing we can do is to make the best of it,” observed Mr Plumb; “and as I feel pretty tired I will lie down on this mat and go to sleep.”

Saying this the midshipman coiled himself up on the ground, and in another minute was snoring away as if he were in his own hammock. I felt very much inclined to follow his example; Ned, however, seemed to think that it was his duty to keep watch, and when I lay down, I saw him still sitting up, and evidently intending to keep awake. In a very few minutes I was as sound asleep as Mr Plumb; how long I had slept I do not know, when I was awoke by the sound of firing, and loud shouts and cheers in the distance; the midshipman also awoke, and we all sat listening attentively, hoping that our friends were coming to the rescue. The sounds grew louder and louder. Ned tried to force open the door, but though made only of bamboo, the fastenings were so strong that he could not succeed. Now arose the cries and shouts of the Malays, and the sound of their matchlocks, as they fought desperately to defend the approach to their village.

“If they are beaten, they will come in and knock us on the head in revenge,” said Dicky Plumb. “It cannot be helped, though; I wish we were out of this, however, for we might then have, at all events, a run for life.”

The sounds grew louder and louder. It was evident that our captors were being driven back.

“It is just like our captain,” observed Dicky. “When he found one of the boats missing, he came on shore to look for her, and then discovered this village, and determined to attack it, hoping to find us inside. He will be very sorry when he hears of the death of Mr Mason and the other poor fellows.”

“I think we could get out through the roof of this place, though we cannot force open the door,” observed Ned, beginning to climb up the side.

In a little time he had worked a hole in the thick thatch; in another minute he was through it.

“Now, sir, catch hold of my hand and I’ll haul you up,” he said to Mr Plumb.

The midshipman was speedily on the top of the hut; I followed, hauled up by the same friendly hand, scarcely had I reached the top when the door of the hut was opened, and we heard several voices utter exclamations of surprise.

“Follow me,” whispered Mr Plumb; “there is not a moment to be lost! we must run for it, that’s evident!”

We dropped down to the ground as noiselessly as we could. It was broad daylight; but, happily, we had got to the rear of the hut, which, as it seemed, was on the outside of the village. The ground was very wild and rough, sloping rapidly down towards the sea.

We had got a considerable distance, however, before we were discovered. As soon as we were seen the Malays pursued us, for they had no intention that we should escape. Several shots were sent after us, but from the roughness of the ground, as we kept leaping from rock to rock, we escaped being hit. Our enemies pursued us, determined to prevent our escape. If we were active, so were they; and away we all went, leaping from rock to rock, they jumping as we did. A curious sight it must have been to any one looking on. A stumble or fall would have been fatal. We mercifully kept our legs; still, they were overtaking us, when we caught sight of a party of our own men, who finding that side of the hill undefended were advancing towards the village. We ran towards them. And now the tables were turned, and the Malays had to scramble back as fast as they had come. In the meantime Captain Sharpe with the main body was fighting his way up towards the village, the road being desperately defended by the piratical inhabitants. Conducted by us, the smaller party we had joined now attacked the enemy in flank. They at length gave way, though they bravely covered the retreat of their women and children. A large number of the men were killed, but we were too glad to let the others escape. Having driven out the inhabitants, we were now ordered to search for booty. We had soon ample proof of the character of the people by the various bales of silk and cotton goods, cutlery, and other articles which were discovered in different store-houses, apparently the property of the Rajah and other principal men. Having made a thorough search, and collected all the articles of value to be found, we conveyed them down to the boats. This done, the village was set on fire in several places, to secure its complete destruction—no very difficult matter, considering the materials of which it was composed. We then pulled back towards the barque which I have before mentioned. Her unfortunate crew and passengers, for she apparently had had some, were all murdered. Not a human being belonging to her could be discovered. How the Malays had allowed Dicky, Rawlings, and myself to escape, we could not at first tell. We had, I should say, taken a few prisoners, and among them was a lad who was discovered to be the Rajah’s son. It was concluded, therefore, that they had spared our lives for the sake of exchanging us for him. Our victory was complete; for we had captured all their prows, and recovered the merchant vessel they had carried off. It had, however, been dearly purchased; for we had lost the best part of a boat’s crew and a boat which the Malays had destroyed. The cries we heard just before leaving the beach we found afterwards had been those of our unfortunate countrymen when they were attacked by the Malays, who had immediately put them to death. As soon as all the articles of value had been taken out of the prows and put on board the prize, they were set on fire, and, burning rapidly, one after the other quickly went to the bottom. The prize, I should have said, had been hove off the shore. A breeze now springing up, sail was made, and taking our boats in tow, we stood back to the Roarer. It was hoped that the lesson we had given the pirates would make them and their friends behave better for the future. We cruised for another fortnight in search of any similar gentry. The barque was very useful, as while we lay at anchor, concealed in some wooded bay, she was sent out to act as a bait, for the purpose of drawing any pirates from their lairs. Fifty hands were sent on board her, including a dozen marines, besides which she was armed with four long sixes and half a dozen brass swivels. After all, however, the pirates were too wary, and the bait did not take. At length, without any further success, our time to remain in those seas was up, and Captain Sharpe had, according to orders, to proceed to Calcutta.