By daylight they arrived off the bay to which they had been guided by Hoo-kee, their pilot, who, clad in a cast-off suit of Puffeigh's, walked the bridge in a dignified manner; never leaving his elevated position until the first shot was fired, upon which he darted below, and hid himself in a sand-tank until the engagement was over.
Hoo-kee told Puffeigh that they were off the entrance of a bay which contained a regular fleet of piratical junks, commanded by one Seh-wang; and he strongly urged him to send away his boats and attack the junks under cover of the fog, it being impossible to take the ship in during the time it continued. Upon this Lieutenant Wilton, who had been appointed to the vacancy caused by Ford's death, informed the commander that he "knew every inch of the bay, having surveyed it about a year ago." After a short consultation, and being urged strongly by the master, who was also an old China ranger, Puffeigh reluctantly consented, and with the leads going in both chains, the Stinger slowly steamed into the bay, in spite of the fog, which was, to use a nautical expression, as thick as pea-soup.
The master went out upon the jibboom and watched for the slightest lift in the fog, while the captain and Lieutenant Wilton piloted the ship from the bridge.
"Starboard!" cried Wilton. "Starboard!" bawled Puffeigh. "Junk ahead! port your helm!" roared the master from forward.
Round went the wheel, and the Stinger shot past a huge junk, which loomed through the fog like a line-of-battle ship.
"Steady! Let go the anchor!" commanded the master, who thereupon came aft and reported to the captain that during a break in the fog he had seen several junks ahead, and it was advisable to heave short, and prepare for warm work, as soon as it cleared.
Puffeigh fussed about like an old woman, first directing the guns to be loaded with shot, then countermanding the order, and giving instructions to load with shell; and finally, by the advice of the master, who almost took charge of the ship, he ordered them to load with grape and canister. The gunner and his mates prayed for him.
Crushe worried round and blustered like the Pistol that he was, now and then ordering some youngster out of what the lad considered a snug place, swearing he'd have no skulking cowards in his ship, and all the time wishing himself somewhere else.
