CHAPTER XIXTHE SECRET CHANNEL
Afterthe Americans had departed, leaving Ta-Ling tightly bound and gagged on the cell floor, the Chinaman remained quietly bemoaning his cruel destiny. He knew from the silence throughout the yamen that it would be futile for him to waste his strength in useless struggling at the bonds that bound him. His Oriental mind counseled self-destruction. There was no alternative to wipe out the dishonor of being defeated and humiliated by his despised enemies. The loss of his sacred cue was a bitter misfortune. How could he appear before his brother mandarins with this necessary appendage missing? The more he revolved the situation over in his mind, the calmer he became. His Western teaching, with its more worldly and less devious ways of thought, came to his aid, driving away all ideas of self-destruction, and he resolved that he would fight according tothe methods taught by his new learning so long as life remained him.
It seemed to the helpless man that many hours must have passed while he remained motionless on the damp earth. He had during this time thought over and over again of all that had been said by the Americans. While he lay to all appearances insensible, he had heard the wording of the cipher message to the American commander. He had been upon the point of sending the cablegrams to the American ship, but now they were in the hands of the midshipmen and he had heard them say that they would not give them to their captain. So much of the plan of his ally, Commander Ignacio, was a failure.
The missing chart which he felt sure had been taken by Emmons caused him the greatest anxiety. He had intended to block this channel with sunken stone-laden junks, but with the usual roundabout methods of the Chinese he had found the mandarin in charge of such work could not load the junks for some days, so he had passed it by, believing that the presence of such a channel would remain a secret. Hang-Ki, the Tartar general,could be the only one of those in the secrets of the yamen who would dare thwart him. Ta-Ling’s veins swelled with suppressed anger as he blamed his ill-luck for not having succeeded in his attempt on the general’s life. This man he felt sure was also in the daring plot which had liberated the Americans and placed him, second only in power to the viceroy, in chains, helpless, while his carefully-laid scheme of forever ridding China of the foreign leeches was falling like a house of cards about his head.
While his mind grappled with the intricate intrigues, there came a dull boom of heavy cannon, shaking violently the yamen. Again and again the earth was shaken and the deep tones of discharges of great guns reverberated through the vast building.
What did it mean? Had the Americans then succeeded in escaping and were the fort guns firing upon them? How could they escape by water when every launch had been wrecked by his trusted soldiers?
The yamen now was no longer silent. Ta-Ling could hear shrill cries and the hurried march of feet. Men were running wildlyhere and there, an unknown fear in their hearts. The Chinaman’s hopes rose; the viceroy would send for him to know the cause of the firing and he must before long be discovered. He tugged desperately but fruitlessly at his bonds, but Langdon had done his work well.
Exhausted and breathless, he at length resigned himself to fate. Then he heard his own name cried by the viceroy’s crier, resounding loudly throughout the yamen. After what seemed an eternity, the door of his cell was thrown open and several guards entered the dark prison.
“Here they are,” he heard a soldier exclaim, and then he felt himself grasped roughly and carried out into the courtyard.
The next moment a light was thrust in his face and then the guards recoiled in mortal fear as they beheld the features of the Chinese tyrant.
“We beg a million pardons, Excellency,” the leader cried, cringing before the terrible eye of the viceroy’s secretary, while his companions prostrated themselves before him.
Ta-Ling made a sign to remove his gag, his joy at deliverance fighting with his outraged dignity at being so roughly handled.
“Take off these irons, you dogs,” he hissed when he could speak; “the keys are on the floor of the cell.”
The keys were quickly brought from where Ta-Ling had seen them thrown by the midshipmen, and soon he was free.
“Meet me at the yamen gate,” he ordered huskily, kicking a kneeling figure savagely to punctuate his words; and then he hastened to his quarters to replace the clothes of which his former captives had deprived him.
Upon the threshold of his room he encountered the frail figure of the aged mandarin, his features stamped with fear.
“You traitor,” he cried in a weak trembling voice, as he caught sight of the disheveled Ta-Ling; “so this is the end of your vain boasting. The foreign dogs are coming to destroy me.”
The secretary used all of his powers of persuasion to reassure his master. He told the viceroy hurriedly of the escape of the Americans and the loss of the chart, but protestedthat there was no immediate danger from the guns of the fleet.
Leading the trembling old man back to his own room, he called loudly for the treasurer, appreciating that in order to make true his words to his master not a second must be wasted.
Receiving no answer to his call, he retraced his steps to his room, and there he was not surprised to find the bound body of his friend in the dark corner where Phil had thrown him.
After setting the man free, he gave him hasty instructions and sent him to keep the viceroy company, while he feverishly threw on the garments of a mandarin before joining his awaiting soldiers. Hastily writing an order he took it to the viceroy for signature, then calling a waiting messenger he directed it be taken at once to the Tartar general at the forts.
Ten minutes later Ta-Ling, preceded by his guards, pressed through the frightened throngs of Chinese in the narrow street outside of the yamen. The gun fire had now ceased and the terrified natives were slowly slinking back to their hovels.
Passing unhindered through the city gate, the secretary led the way directly to the jetty. Here he was to have met his ally, Commander Ignacio, earlier in the evening, but much to his surprise and satisfaction, as he reached the landing, he saw a steam launch waiting.
“Can you take me to the ‘Albaque’?” he questioned the coxswain eagerly.
The sailor glanced up in surprise. Where was his captain? He had seen him, as he supposed, with this Chinaman.
“I am waiting for the captain,” he replied, a shade of suspicion in his voice. “Wasn’t he with you?”
It was Ta-Ling’s turn to be surprised.
“With me!” he exclaimed. “I was to have met him hours ago.”
The coxswain shook his head, mystified. Had he not seen his captain go away with this man? Then he suddenly thought of the crowd of Chinese who had boarded a launch below him and had then gone alongside of his ship. His captain surely could not have been among those men. He gave it up. It was too deep for his understanding, for that launch had then gone down the river shortly beforethe fight between the forts and a strange war-ship.
“All right; get in,” he said finally.
In several minutes Ta-Ling was greeted warmly by the officer of the deck of the “Albaque.” The latter was glad to see the Chinaman again. The quartermaster of the gunboat had persisted that the launch of the Chinaman had not landed, but had gone down the river, and the young officer had commenced to fear that he had been duped into giving up both the captain’s correspondence and the Chinese refugee.
“May I see your captain?” Ta-Ling asked anxiously. “It’s of the utmost importance.”
“My captain has not returned!” the officer exclaimed, alarm in his voice.
“Where is he? quick, man! Everything depends upon my finding him at once,” Ta-Ling cried in vexation.
“He was with you; the launch was waiting for him,” the officer returned, catching his breath, his heart in his throat.
“I haven’t seen him since this morning,” the Chinaman declared impatiently. “Does no one know of his whereabouts?”
The officer was rooted to the spot from fright. His throat was parched with fear and his tongue unruly.
“You were here to-night asking for the papers of the captain,” he managed to gasp, his worst fears realized.
“You’re dreaming, man,” Ta-Ling retorted almost angrily. “Come, explain! What do you mean?”
The officer related to the anxious Chinaman how some one whom he could have taken oath was he had come on board from a launch and he had given him the copies of his captain’s letters to the viceroy, and also a Chinese refugee who had escaped on board from the shore.
Ta-Ling groaned in anguish as the full significance of this news dawned upon him. The Americans evidently had Emmons—and his chart. But had they escaped? That was surely the cause of the firing.
“What was the firing?” Ta-Ling asked hurriedly.
“An American monitor and the forts,” the officer replied in a shaky voice.
“What have I done?” he added questioningly,much terrified over the results of his indiscretion.
“You’ve given your captain’s letters to his enemy, for one thing,” the Chinaman answered in his cruel voice, “and besides you have liberated a man——”
A shrill cry from the steam launch, which had, while waiting for the Chinaman, hauled out to the lower boom to lie more securely in the tideway, cut short Ta-Ling’s words and drew the two men to the rail.
“There’s a man tied hand and foot in this boat,” called out the coxswain in alarm. “It’s the captain!” he exclaimed with many imprecations upon those who had perpetrated the deed.
“Cut him loose, quick!” the officer cried excitedly.
Eager hands quickly cut the tight cords, and Commander Ignacio soon stood on his quarter-deck.
“An hour ago I would have throttled you if you’d stood here before me,” were his first words, spoken hoarsely and with difficulty to the Chinaman, “but I see it all now. We’ve been unmercifully duped.”
“THERE IS STILL A CHANCE”
With many bitter recriminations the whole plot and its disastrous success was discussed. Commander Ignacio could barely control his rage against the young officer who had innocently betrayed him.
“Come, we must act at once!” Ta-Ling finally exclaimed. “There is still a chance.”
The foreign captain’s face brightened as he questioned eagerly the excited secretary.
“The channel will be useless to the fleet if we can burn off the reed grass,” Ta-Ling explained quickly. “The land itself is low and will not hide the gunboats from the forts. But we must be quick. That fire-eating American will start immediately he receives the information of this channel.”
“Come to my cabin,” Ignacio ordered in a low voice, glancing suspiciously at his abashed lieutenant.
“If I understand you,” he continued as the door closed behind them, “you ask me to aid you in burning the vegetation on this island.”
“Certainly!” Ta-Ling cried impatiently. “Isn’t it to your interest that this American does not succeed?”
“Softly,” cautioned the foreign captain;“we don’t want our talk to be common property,” indicating by a motion of his hand the hatchway leading to the sleeping quarters of his officers; “some one may be awake down there.”
Ignacio pondered for a few seconds. To go in his own launch and set fire to this island would betray his part in the intrigue with the viceroy. His sailors could not be depended upon to keep such a secret.
“I see no alternative but to decline,” he continued decidedly. “You must do this act yourself; my men could not be trusted with such a secret.”
“I will furnish the men,” Ta-Ling cried, beside himself with impatience. “You must furnish me a launch with some one to run it; but hurry, man,” he urged excitedly. “The grass must be burned off before the fleet arrives at the island, or else we are defeated.”
Commander Ignacio immediately awoke to action. The thought of the lieutenant who had innocently betrayed him came happily to his mind; he could run the engine and the sailors could remain on board ship. The secret would be safe with this officer. Noone could connect him with the act of burning the island.
The lieutenant was called and was eager to regain his captain’s favor. Ten minutes later the launch from the “Albaque,” manned by the Chinese soldiers, with Commander Ignacio himself at the helm, had quietly left the gunboat.
Reaching the northern point of the island, a landing was made and a Chinaman landed, armed with instructions from the viceroy’s secretary to set fire to the grass in as many places as possible and to return in time to be picked up on the launch’s return.
The launch then steamed down stream, stopping at several points to land the soldiers.
As yet, all was well. The launch had run the complete length of the long island, landing the incendiary soldiers; the south end of the island was only a few hundred yards ahead. Ta-Ling directed the foreign captain to steer once more to the steep shore. There were no more soldiers remaining; the ten men had all been landed and ten fires were by now burning fiercely in as many places on the long island. Stepping ashore, he was soonlost in the high grass towering over twenty feet above him. Lighting a fire-brand, hastily made of dry reeds, he carefully applied it, as he walked along, to the dying vegetation. Now in an hour the island would be a blazing furnace. For the rest of the night the channels would be lighted as bright as day. Even the monitors would not dare to attempt to pass the forts until the following night, and by that time he would have fully revenged himself on the Americans and escaped to the interior. He smiled cruelly as his thoughts dwelt upon his cunning ruse upon the viceroy; the mandarin, in his excited fear, had signed the order to Hang-Ki to withdraw his soldiers from the mission to protect the forts. Now the bloodthirsty rabble, armed and organized by him (Ta-Ling), could with impunity hurl themselves upon the mission.