"
"I cannot come with you, I suppose, Fothergill?" Percy Adcock said,
as the midshipman was about to descend into his boat again.
"Yes, come along, Percy. It doesn't matter what you do now. The
captain will be so pleased when he hears that we have captured and
burnt five junks, that you will get off with a very light wigging,
I imagine."
"That's just what I was thinking, Jack. Has it not been fun?"
"You wouldn't have thought it fun if you had got one of those
matchlock balls in your body. There are a good many of our poor
fellows just at the present moment who do not see anything funny
in the affair at all. Here we are; clamber up."
The crew soon set to work under Fothergill's orders. The sails
were cut off the masts and thrown down into the hold; bamboos, of
which there were an abundance down there, were heaped over them,
a barrel of oil was poured over the mass, and the fire then applied.
"That will do, lads. Now take to your boats and let's make a bonfire
of the other junk."
In ten minutes both vessels were a sheet of flame, and the boat was
lying a short distance from them waiting for further operations.
The inhabitants of the village, furious at the failure of the plan
which had been laid for the destruction of the "white devils," kept
up a constant fusillade, which, however, did no harm, for the gig
was completely sheltered by the burning junks close to her from
their missiles.
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