CHAPTER VIIIIGNACIO SHOWS HIS HAND
Asthe drawbridge clanked upward, and the soldiers disappeared hastily behind the closing gates, Commander Ignacio, glancing nervously at Langdon, brought his party to a stop.
“You know the customs of these people; what shall we do?” he exclaimed anxiously, betraying that with all his vain boasting before his confrères he depended upon the American pilot to give him courage to act.
“They have raised the drawbridge until the viceroy can be notified,” Langdon answered calmly; “I don’t consider we are in much danger; of course the Chinese never do what might be expected of them. If they opened fire now we couldn’t escape,” he added, casting a swift glance of disdain at the nervous officer and giving the midshipmen a covert wink; “so we might as well put on a bold front.” Suiting his action to his words,he threw himself down on the ground, as if he intended to be comfortable while the viceroy indulged himself in his Oriental diplomacy of wearing out the patience of those who wished to treat with him.
Over an hour passed anxiously for the foreigners; conversation was fragmentary and pointless. Under the eyes and within close range of a semi-civilized enemy, who might refuse to recognize a flag of truce, their position was not calculated to inspire confidence. Then the drawbridge creaked slowly down, and a gorgeously dressed official advanced through the opened gate, preceded by a white flag and followed by an armed guard of soldiers.
Commander Ignacio and his party rose hastily to meet them.
After the elaborate Chinese ceremony of greeting had been concluded, the mandarin turned to Commander Ignacio, and inquired his mission.
“We have come to see the viceroy,” Ignacio replied in English, for the Chinaman was no other than the interpreter, whom Phil had seen so discomfited the day before.
With a nod of approval, the mandarin beckoned that all should follow, and led the way across the drawbridge and into the ill-smelling city.
The emissaries and their guards passed at a rapid pace through the narrow and dirty streets; the curious inmates of the walled city kept at a respectful distance, their faces expressing wonder rather than hatred.
Phil, noticing the change in their demeanor from the day before, called it to Langdon’s attention.
“Yes,” the pilot assured him, “it’s a good sign; the will of the mandarins is always reflected in the faces of the lower classes. They hate us just as much as ever, but the brisk work at Lien-Chow has shown them that we are able to carry out our threats.”
Upon their arrival at the yamen, the viceroy received the foreigners at the second door, one door nearer the entrance than where he had received Commander Hughes. This did not fail to impress the visitors. After all, was Chang-Li-Hun prepared to make terms?
The viceroy was accompanied by the samemandarins whom Phil had seen the day before, and in contrast to their master’s sphinx-like face their features betrayed the apprehension which they doubtless felt.
Chang-Li-Hun seated himself at the head of the table, motioning Commander Ignacio to a chair on his left.
After all were seated, refreshments were brought, and silence was preserved until the viceroy signed that the table be cleared; then turning to Langdon he inquired courteously in Chinese the wishes of the flag of truce.
The pilot, after a motion of consent had been received from the leader, informed the mandarin of Commander Hughes’ terms. Phil watched his friend’s face closely, glancing occasionally at the dignified old Chinaman, whom nothing apparently could move.
“There is a hostile movement against the foreigners in your provinces,” Langdon commenced in the mandarin’s language, using all the flowery and diplomatic terms which these astute diplomats clung to so closely. “This movement can exist only through your tolerance. We do not claim that your Excellencyis giving it active support, but you are taking no steps to smother it. That being the case, the allied powers have taken the law in their own hands. Having discovered that an army of rebels were concentrating at Lien-Chow, only seven miles from your Excellency’s city, with the avowed intention of attacking the American mission and massacring the inmates, the allies have but a few hours ago attacked them in their stronghold and dispersed them with many killed, while not a foreigner has been hurt. These rebels were permitted to collect despite the fact that you have seven thousand soldiers under your orders capable of suppressing these outlaws. Commander Hughes has directed us to say that if your Excellency will give his honorable word upon the spirit of his father that no further outrages will be permitted, and that he will protect with his soldiers the American mission, and also cause to be issued and posted throughout the provinces orders to desist from attacks on Christian converts and their teachers, then the foreign sailors will be at once withdrawn from China’s soil.”
Chang-Li-Hun’s face was barren of expressionwhile the pilot was delivering himself of this long speech.
“I am not the general of the soldiers,” he craftily replied; “suppose I, a civilian, should give the soldiers orders to protect foreigners, how may I be assured that they will obey?”
Langdon fearlessly gazed at the aged mandarin, whom he knew was trying, as the Chinese say, “to throw dust in his eyes.”
“Is not the Tartar general under the orders of the viceroy?” he asked uncompromisingly.
“I may give an order,” the viceroy answered evasively, “but I am not a soldier; then how shall I risk the displeasure of my father’s spirit, when I would not know if it were being enforced?”
By the viceroy’s words his treachery was unmasked. Langdon had been told in the strictest confidence by Emmons that General Hang-Ki had embraced secretly the Christian belief; not suspecting this, the viceroy had put his foot into a trap by insinuating that the general could not be depended upon to carry out orders to protect the foreigners and the thousands of Christian Chinese, who werealike called foreigners by the fanatical anti-Christians.
“Where can the general be found?” Langdon inquired finally.
“His residence is in the forts,” the viceroy answered.
“Then our mission is with him,” the pilot declared, rising from his chair; “your Excellency then will agree to give the order and I shall endeavor to obtain his promise to conscientiously carry it out. My captain’s one desire is to spare the misguided people of the city from the further vengeance of the foreign powers.”
“What do you mean?” the viceroy asked, for a second dropping his mask and gazing at the pilot through worried eyes.
“I mean,” Langdon answered, raising his voice to be heard throughout the room, “that if the Chinese soldiers and these outlaws, calling themselves patriots, insist upon massacring the inoffensive foreigners and their followers, such a fire of shot and shell will be thrown into this city by the allied fleet that all property will be destroyed.”
The aged mandarin started perceptibly athearing these menacing words; then he seemed to arrive at some conclusion, for his parchment-like face betrayed a faint smile as he motioned the pilot to be again seated.
“How will the fleet bombard Ku-Ling?” he inquired; “your ships cannot again pass the forts if I order them to fire upon you.”
“Your Excellency,” Langdon answered boldly, “has forgotten that two American monitors are now on their way to join the allied fleet. With the addition of these vessels, our ships do not fear the fire of your forts; besides you will know that if the American commander orders it our sailors can take the forts with ease by storm. Our captain is in earnest,” he urged, believing from the viceroy’s attitude that he was weakening. “If the mission on the hill which is under your protection is harmed he will at once put into effect his plans to reduce the forts and destroy your city.”
“I shall send for the general,” the viceroy finally announced. “He may be some hours in arriving, and meanwhile you may rest after your journey.”
The party arose, following the interpreter,and shortly found themselves in a plainly-furnished room, where he left them abruptly.
Langdon immediately explained his conversation with the viceroy, and expressed himself as certain that the flag of truce would be successful.
Phil had not as yet been addressed by Commander Ignacio, and naturally felt disinclined to join in the conversation. He had surprised many furtive glances from the foreign captain, and was sure they were not of good omen; however, now he smiled pleasantly at the two midshipmen, without a trace of the ill nature with which Phil felt he regarded him.
“This was my idea from the start,” Commander Ignacio exclaimed boastfully; “that fire-eating captain of yours came near getting us in a nice muddle, but I believe I shall straighten it all out.”
Phil’s anger flared into his eyes at hearing this direct slur upon Commander Hughes’ actions, but his training had taught him subordination, and he controlled the words of censure that came readily to his lips.
Langdon however was not so diplomatic.
“I beg to differ, Commander Ignacio,” he exclaimed hotly; “Commander Hughes’ acts have made this truce possible. Until he showed that he was in earnest by attacking and capturing Lien-Chow the viceroy would not have received us at all.” The foreigner’s expression changed suddenly, and as he saw the midshipmen unconsciously nod in approval of the pilot’s words, a scowl of bitter hatred appeared on his swarthy face.
“You Americans are an insolent race,” he cried angrily. “What do you know about such matters?” he continued violently, turning scornfully on Langdon; “you are merely a hired pilot.”
Phil’s greatest fear seemed on the point of being realized; this braggart might spoil all through his self-conceit. Until now all had gone smoothly; the viceroy had as much as shown that he was ready and willing to make terms, and now this incompetent coward had shown his ugly hand.
“Don’t answer him, Langdon,” Phil whispered, laying a restraining hand on the pilot’s arm; “nothing that he can say will affect our confidence in you.”
The anger died on Langdon’s face as he realized the logic in the lad’s words, and then the strained situation was relieved by the arrival of the interpreter.
“His Excellency, the general, was fortunately in the city,” he explained, “and was readily found; he now waits in the viceroy’s audience-chamber.”
The foreigners were presently again before the high mandarin.
Phil gazed admiringly at the stranger, whom he knew must be the Tartar general. The Manchu stood over six feet in height, his skin bronzed by exposure, in striking contrast to the almost effeminate appearance of the Chinese mandarins about him. The fierceness of his Tartar ancestors looked from his dark almond-shaped eyes; he seemed to the lad an embodiment of those of his race who had many centuries before under the great Ghenkis Khan overrun the whole of Asia, carrying their victorious banners even into Europe; here was the soldier leader whose ancestors had followed no other calling.
The conference was again opened by the viceroy’s thin voice.
“Upon investigation I find that the general was not informed of the presence at Lien-Chow of these outlaws. I myself knew nothing of it. The mission was safe in my keeping, but when your commander lands an armed force on the soil of China, he must take the consequences; I dare not interfere as long as there is a single foreign sailor on our shore. Before I can treat with you, every armed man must be first withdrawn and the ships again anchored in the Yangtse River; the To-Yan Lake is by royal decree forbidden water, and I must demand that the war-ships leave there immediately.”
Langdon gazed in surprise at the old diplomat. Could reliance be placed in his implied willingness to make terms after the sailors were withdrawn from China’s soil and the ships anchored again in the river?
“That is quite impossible,” Langdon answered promptly. “Commander Hughes will not withdraw from China’s soil until he has received your promise given on the sacred spirit of your father.”
“When your commander has anchored his fleet at Ku-Ling and then comes to meapologizing for entering the forbidden lake, then I will give my decision, but not until then,” the viceroy cried angrily. “I have washed my hands of your mission; by putting sailors there your captain has taken it from my protection.”
Langdon was so intent upon his conversation with the viceroy that he failed to notice that Commander Ignacio had changed his seat to one beside the interpreter, and that in low tones the latter had given the foreigner the details of the conversation upon which so much depended. The pilot now turned to apprise this officer of the latest demand of the arch villain, but to his consternation the foreign commander had risen to his feet, his black eyes snapping with importance, and waved the American to silence, then turning to the interpreter at his elbow exclaimed in English:
“I consider that the viceroy’s demands are just. I was from the first against this ill-judged action. Tell his Excellency as senior member of this flag of truce, I shall agree to these terms, and am sure my colleagues, with the exception of this American, will uphold me.”
A smile of triumph played about the corners of the viceroy’s cruel mouth while the interpreter gave him the meaning of Commander Ignacio’s rash words.
“So,” he thought, “the foreigners are not of one mind.” The clever diplomat believed that he had at last found a way to pierce the armor of the despised foreigner.