CHAPTER XVAN ENEMY SILENCED
Langdonand Sydney had so forcibly driven their enemy to the ground that one of the revolvers, which was cocked, had gone off, the noise of the discharge reverberating through the bare building in a most startling way. Intent upon their work, the pilot had seized the wrists of the foreign captain in an iron grip, while Sydney quickly disarmed him.
Phil’s heart stopped beating at the sight which presented itself as the door swung wide open. By the light of three or four dripping candles, he saw a dozen Chinamen seated about the floor of the room.
As the lad forced his way boldly into the midst of the startled Chinamen, holding before him a revolver taken from Sydney’s hand in passing, the surprised Orientals threw themselves face downward upon the floor, whining piteously for mercy.
Leaving the disarmed foreigner to Sydney,Langdon quickly joined the other midshipman, surrounded as he was by the cringing and terror-stricken natives.
“Canton Chinamen,” he whispered; “these must be Emmons’ launch crews; but what are they doing here?”
Langdon raised his voice, addressing the terrified men. At the sound of their own tongue a Chinaman raised himself tremblingly from the floor, his fear giving place to joy as he recognized the familiar voice of the pilot, whom he had so frequently seen piloting ships on the great river.
After a few minutes’ conversation with the native Langdon turned to Phil, drawing the lad out of ear-shot of their helpless enemy lying upon the floor with Sydney’s muscular weight upon his chest.
“It looks bad for us!” he exclaimed. “This man, Nam-Sing, is one of Emmons’ head men, and these men are his crew. A mob this afternoon looted the foreign concession and destroyed all of Emmons’ launches, butchering the Canton Chinese crews in cold blood. The foreign gunboats, he says, looked on and would not interfere. Emmons, hethinks, was killed. These men took refuge in the secret vaults of the bank, known by Nam-Sing because he was for some years employed here. Believing that all was quiet, they were trying to muster up courage to escape down the river.”
Phil could have wept with disappointment. On the threshold of safety, they found their escape cut off. His mind sought for a way to overcome the difficulties. Ignacio’s launch was at the landing. Why could they not overpower the crew and escape in it? But he soon saw that this plan would be worse than foolhardy. They could not expect to pass the alert gunboat, and once alongside, the strategy would be discovered. But what else could be done? A junk was out of the question, for the wind was contrary, blowing up the river, and before they could hope to pass the forts, daylight would reveal them and the Chinese guns would soon make them return and surrender or else they would be sunk. The longer the Americans remained on shore the smaller were the chances for escape; it was but a matter of time before their absence from the yamen would beknown. While the lad pondered wildly on a method of escape he saw the Chinaman Nam-Sing attract Langdon’s attention and then fairly explode in a volley of excited words.
“He says that one of the launches is not so badly damaged,” the pilot whispered to Phil. “It’s a steam launch, but under the stern-boards is a small gasoline engine, and he thinks the mob did not destroy that, for it is hidden from view.”
“Come on!” Phil exclaimed eagerly. Then he cast an uncertain look at the captive whom Sydney had bound hand and foot, securing a gag in his mouth and muffling his ears so that he could hear only the loudest tones.
“We must leave him behind,” Langdon insisted immediately, interpreting the glance. “He must take his chances.”
“I don’t dare leave him there,” Phil exclaimed. “He might be killed by the Chinese. No, the consequences would be too serious.”
“Then what are we to do?” the pilot asked impatiently. “He would as soon stick a knife in you if you were in his power.”
“I know,” Phil declared stoutly, “but I am going to get him on board his own ship.”
“But how on earth can you?” Langdon exclaimed in disgust at Phil’s leniency. If the pilot could have had his way he would have wrung his neck then and there, which punishment the foreigner doubtless deserved.
Phil did not reply immediately. A bold plan had flashed through his mind, and he was rapidly revolving it in his thoughts to discover if it was feasible.
“Tell the Chinese to carry the prisoner,” he said finally, his mind fully made up to attempt the one scheme which seemed to give the foreign commander a chance for his life. If he left him in the foreign concession his life would not be worth a copper cash when the robbers from the city came back to complete their ghoulish work.
Langdon trusted Phil’s judgment too thoroughly to demur, so he quietly gave Nam-Sing his orders, and then the three Americans started, cautiously leading the way down the alley and out upon the street running toward the river.
Reaching the “Bund,” Nam-Sing pointedout the direction of the launch, which appeared to be their last chance for safety. Passing the waiting launch of Commander Ignacio, Phil glanced uneasily at the sailors; but they appeared to give them but passing notice.
The midshipman saw Nam-Sing step aboard a black launch some hundred yards down the “Bund” from where their prisoner’s launch was lying. Phil directed that the bound foreigner be laid on the deck forward, then he watched impatiently the crew of the launch, under the guidance of the Chinese leading man, go to work with the usual Oriental industry. The lad saw at a glance that the engine and boiler were beyond patching; the machinery was a mass of twisted steel, while the boiler tubes were bent and wrenched from their sockets.
Quickly uncoupling the useless engine from the propeller shaft, Nam-Sing directed the removal of the boards covering from view the small compact gas engine. With familiarity he tested out the spark circuit and examined the gear wheels, making sure all was right. After a delay of not more than ten minutes,although it seemed much more to the ever-increasing anxiety of the Americans, the Chinaman seized the crank lever, exerting his power to start the engine. The machine wheezed and sputtered. Again and again came the wheezing cough and when Phil was about to give up hope, it coughed volubly, then the smooth chug of the rapidly rotating engine struck joyfully on his ears.
Langdon took his place at the wheel, while Phil motioned that all lines be cast off from the shore, and presently the launch moved slowly away from the dock out into the swift current of the river.
“Head her for the starboard gangway of the ‘Albaque,’” Phil ordered in a calm voice, although his pulses were throbbing wildly.
Langdon fairly jumped with surprise.
“Why, man alive! What are you doing?” he exclaimed.
In the gloom Phil almost smiled as he realized how odd his plan, without explanation, must seem to his companions.
He spoke quietly, his manner calm, but decided.
“We shall find a small boat in the watermade fast to the lower swinging boom forward of the gangway. When we get alongside, I’ll go on board and give a message from their captain. While I’m on board you and Sydney move the launch ahead sufficiently to be able to drop the prisoner over the bow into the boat. Do it carefully and make no noise. He is securely bound and will lie there until the morning. By that time we shall, I hope, be safely out of his reach.”
Langdon and Sydney could hardly control an expression of their enthusiasm at the conception of such a daring plan. Its very recklessness with Phil’s knack of mimicry would carry it safely through.
A gruff hail in a foreign tongue came startlingly from the black hull of the gunboat, which the launch was slowly approaching.
Phil waited a second for breath and then in the voice of the Chinese interpreter called across the water:
“On the service of the viceroy.”
As the launch stopped at the gangway of the war-ship Phil boldly ascended the ladderto the deck. There he found an officer awaiting him.
“Commander Ignacio has sent me for a copy of the letter written by him yesterday to the viceroy. This letter has been lost in transit and he wishes to give his Excellency the copy.”
Phil pronounced his words slowly, making his accent even broader than that used by the real Ta-Ling.
“Will you wait?” the officer asked politely. “Commander Ignacio keeps his own papers. I shall endeavor to find it.”
Phil bowed his willingness, and the foreign officer beckoning the quartermaster to follow with his lantern, the two disappeared within the cabin.
The disguised midshipman saw the launch crawl slowly ahead, and a moment afterward his straining ear caught the indistinct sound of a body being lowered into the whale-boat tied at the boom of the gunboat. Then as the launch drifted almost imperceptibly back to its place at the ladder, the gleam of the lantern told him that the ship’s officers were returning.
“Here is a package of letters marked for the viceroy,” the officer said as he emerged from the cabin; “but have you no written message from my captain?”
Phil feared he had gone too far. He would like to hold the proofs of Commander Ignacio’s perfidy, but not at the risk of detection.
“No, your captain gave me no letter,” he answered carelessly; “he supposed that Ta-Ling, the viceroy’s secretary, was well enough known; I am Ta-Ling, the viceroy’s secretary; but if you do not wish to trust me I shall return and get a letter from him. It will, however, displease both your commander and the viceroy.”
The officer gave Phil a searching look, but apparently seeing nothing suspicious in his appearance, handed him the package.
Phil was about to descend the ladder, when the officer, as if wishing to make amends for doubting the honesty of the Chinaman, stopped him by a motion of the hand.
“There’s a Chinaman on board who came over in a sanpan, shortly after our captain left the ship. He had escaped from a mob ashore and asked our protection.”
Phil held himself well in hand, fearing by undue interest he would jeopardize his cause.
“Would you care to see him?” the officer continued.
The midshipman nodded indifferently.
“I must hurry,” he said; “my viceroy becomes very impatient if he is kept waiting.”
An order was given to a sailor standing near and Phil saw the man go rapidly forward. The lad’s hopes ran high. Was it Emmons?
A moment afterward Emmons was brought aft by the sailor messenger. The lantern was raised above the sailor’s head, shedding its light on the startled face of the half-breed. Phil regarded him with well-feigned loathing.
“This man is an enemy of the viceroy,” Phil declared, in well simulated anger. “His escape would be a very serious matter. I can take him with me now if you will agree to trust him in my hands.”
The officer did not exactly relish the turn of affairs. If he had made a mistake in delivering his captain’s letters and then the fugitive into the wrong hands, he knew he would suffer severely.
“I dare not do that,” he said. “By my government’s regulations asylum must be given to all asking protection. To-morrow after my captain returns he will, if he sees fit, deliver him to the viceroy. I shall lock him up for safety and you can be sure he will not escape.”
“But I have been searching for this man,” Phil declared, his voice now really earnest. He must get Emmons from his perilous position. “It is all-important that he be taken to the viceroy to-night. I can assure you that if your captain were here he would deliver him up to Ta-Ling.”
All suspicion had disappeared from the officer’s mind upon hearing this earnest appeal. After all, he was but a Chinaman, and he knew his captain was very friendly with the viceroy and his powerful secretary Ta-Ling.
“All right,” he said. “I will take your word that in delivering the man to you I shall be acting as my captain would wish.”
“He should be bound,” Phil said almost gleefully. “Can you get me a rope?”
The officer, leaving Phil’s side, crossed the deck to a chest; opening it, he searchedthrough its contents. The midshipman, greatly fearing an outbreak from Emmons, stepped cautiously to his side and whispered for him to make no outcry.
“I knew you immediately,” Emmons breathed.
At the sound of muttering voices, the officer looked up quickly; the light of the lantern on his face told Phil that his suspicions had been aroused. Quicker than thought the midshipman drew back his fist, then he shot it forward, striking with force the startled half-breed squarely under the chin. Emmons lay where he fell, moaning audibly, while Phil quietly explained his act to the officer.
“He had the temerity to revile me,” he said; “but give me the rope. We should be on our way back to the city.”
Emmons was quickly bound, hand and foot; then Phil bowed ceremoniously and, lifting the stunned man on his broad shoulders, walked steadily down the ladder and into the launch, where he deposited the body with a great show of force for the benefit of those above. A few seconds later the launch had left the war-ship and was headed down the river as if shewould again land in her berth at the dock.
As soon as the gunboat had disappeared in the darkness, Phil and Sydney cut the ropes binding the prisoner and raised him to a seat on the deck house. He was but stunned by the blow and presently opened his eyes, gazing about him in bewilderment.
“What happened?” Emmons asked, recognizing in the thin light of a screened lantern Phil’s anxious face bending over him. The lad quickly explained the reason for his apparently unfriendly act.
Emmons, with a genuine show of deep gratitude, thanked the midshipman for his unlooked-for deliverance; then he plied the lads with eager questions, and Phil gave him the unvarnished history of the night’s experiences; of the triumph over Ta-Ling, and then the ruse they had played upon Commander Ignacio and the officer on board the “Albaque.”
“I have, I think, papers which will reveal all that villain’s secrets,” he ended, patting the papers in the pocket of his long Chinese robe. “And the plan of the secret channel—Ihave that safe here also,” he added. “We owe a great deal to you.”
“Yes,” replied Emmons, “but it has cost me all that I have accumulated in ten years of business. I got warning this afternoon from the Tartar general that an order had been signed by the viceroy for my execution. I succeeded in hiding in an abandoned house in the foreign concession while the soldiers of Ta-Ling searched for me. After dark I tried to find Nam-Sing and the launch which I was holding in readiness to aid your escape, but when I reached the docks I found all my launches deserted, and their machinery wrecked. Knowing that I could not remain another day ashore without capture, I secured a sanpan and sculled to the nearest gunboat, believing I was then safe; but it seems that I had put myself in the hands of an enemy.”
“The blood of every foreigner killed should be laid to Ignacio’s account,” Phil declared angrily; “but we have now the means of exposing his treachery.
“Tell us about the mission,” he exclaimed anxiously. “Is it yet unharmed?”
“It is still under the general’s protection,” Emmons replied, “and he will not permit an attack. I have expected every day to hear that the soldiers had been removed. Ta-Ling’s outlaws are encamped within a mile of the soldiers, apparently waiting an order from their leader.”
“How many are there of these rebels?” Sydney asked in alarm.
“I have not seen them, but my men tell me there are thousands,” Emmons answered.
“There must be some reason for the delay,” Emmons declared. “Have you read the viceroy’s letter to your captain?” he asked quickly. “Maybe there we shall find the cause of it.”
With trembling fingers Phil drew the letter from his pocket and without hesitation broke the formidable looking seal of the viceroy. The writing was in English and the penmanship seemed strangely familiar.
“It’s the same writing as that in the letter I picked up in the bank!” he exclaimed in surprise, then in the lantern’s dim light his eager eyes traveled rapidly over the words before him.
Sydney and Emmons waited impatiently until Phil began to read excitedly:
“His Excellency, Chang-Li-Hun, is deeply grieved at the lawless actions of the foreign gunboats, which have banded together under the leadership of the American commander to defy the authority of the laws of China. Commander Ignacio and two of his brother commanders have accepted his Excellency’s leniency and after voluntarily offering their apology have anchored at Ku-Ling. To show that China has kept faith, his Excellency has caused a strong guard of his soldiers to encamp on the hills near the American mission.
“If by ten o’clock to-morrow morning the foreign gunboats will steam to Ku-Ling flying white flags of truce, the viceroy will still give them clemency. The viceroy has held the hostages to show his displeasure at the foreigners for entering To-Yan Lake, waters forbidden them by the government of China.
“His Excellency will be powerless to protect either the hostages or the mission if a single hostile shot is fired. Enclosed is a telegram for the American commander.”
“If this letter and the telegram had gone toCommander Hughes,” Phil exclaimed as he folded the letter and returned it in his pocket, “Ta-Ling and Ignacio would have won. Without the strong personality of our captain the allies would have weakened and accepted the terms offered.”
“Now when Ta-Ling is liberated,” Sydney cried alarmingly, “the soldiers will be removed and the rebels allowed to attack the mission.” Then he stopped suddenly, while a lump rose in his throat. “Does Ta-Ling suspect the secret of the channel is ours?” he asked fearfully.
Emmons shook his head thoughtfully.
“The chart was procured by Hang-Ki from the viceroy’s papers through bribing a lesser official,” he answered. “Ta-Ling may have discovered its absence and suspected that I would carry it to your captain. That would explain his sudden desire to have me captured and executed.”
“To-night is the turning-point in this intrigue,” Phil exclaimed, while his heart beat faster at the thought. “We must use this channel to-night, and after we have run the forts and anchored in safety above Ku-Ling,we must start at once to the rescue of those in the mission. I hope Lieutenant Wilson can withstand the assault until aid arrives.
“Our poor sailors in the yamen,” he added sorrowfully, “I fear are no better than dead men.”
“You are right,” Emmons declared in no uncertain voice. “To-morrow Ta-Ling will cause the high reed grass on the island to be set on fire. It is dry and will burn like tinder. Then the island will offer no protection, the search-light on the fort will disclose the presence of the gunboats and the secret channel is well within the range of the fort guns.”
While the midshipmen were absorbed in their conversation with the half-breed, the launch, under the skilful guidance of the pilot, steamed rapidly down the swift current of the river. The junks moored at the docks flashed by unheeded. The high frowning cliffs, on top of which were the gun emplacements, appeared dimly from the darkness ahead. Then the launch’s bow was turned sharply to port, steering across the river, toput as great a distance as possible between it and the menacing batteries.
The midshipmen and Emmons had now joined Langdon at his post at the wheel.
“To-night Hang-Ki has relieved many of the lookouts in the forts,” Emmons whispered, “and if we can keep close under the shadow of the island we may pass undiscovered.”
Phil was in a fever of anxiety. He glanced fearfully at the frowning forts, looming oppressively close in the darkness to starboard. The island on the other side of which was the secret channel slowly took shape, and as the launch approached became ever more distinct. Now he imagined he could see the tops of the high reeds, tall enough to conceal the hull of a gunboat, waving menacingly in the fitful breeze, and in the stillness, broken only by the muffled chug of the gas engine, he could now hear the dry rustle telling him only too plainly that this rank vegetation was ripe for Ta-Ling’s torch.
The night was dark and cloudy, and the deeper gloom of the island toward which Langdon was steering would make it almost impossible to locate the small launch.
Even under the trying circumstances, expecting momentarily to hear the loud discharge of hostile cannon, Phil’s mind dwelt anxiously on the possibilities before the coming day. Fully realizing that the lives of those in the mission depended upon the ability of the allies to pass the forts before morning, would they find the fleet prepared to start immediately? Without mishaps two hours must elapse before the launch could reach Lien-Chow, and then scarcely five hours of the night would remain.
With all lights save that at the compass carefully screened, the launch sped quietly onward. The forts had faded slowly into the darkness as the island shore had been approached. Langdon spun his wheel from side to side seeking the deepest channel, while a Chinaman with a long bamboo pole measured the depth of the water continuously, calling out in a sing-song whisper his soundings.
“Go on this side of the island,” Phil ordered, hastily measuring with his eye the distance by the chart. “Time’s precious. We must run the risk.”
“Aye, aye,” the pilot answered quickly, bringing the bow of the launch smartly about to parallel the island shore. “They can’t hit us anyway,” he added contemptuously.
Minute after minute dragged by. The Americans were on the point of congratulating themselves upon having passed the forts in safety, when a flash of flame sprang from the darkness of the hill forts and the screech of a shell sounded menacingly in their ears.
With the anxiety of one who is being fired upon without the opportunity to return the fire, those on the launch stuck manfully at their posts. Sydney’s blood raced rapidly through his veins, and his hopes seemed on the point of being cast to the very depths of despair.
Flash followed flash on the fortifications and the reverberations of the heavy artillery shook the valley. It seemed to the midshipmen that hundreds of guns must be hurling tons of steel at their small inoffensive black launch as it bravely steamed down the river.
With intense excitement and fearful dread as to the outcome, all gazed fascinated upon the myriads of flashes of flame from theforts. The moans and screeches of the shells were loud in their ears while the steel bolts lashed the water to foam about them.
Suddenly a bright shaft of light bored through the night and then swung spasmodically over the water. Fearfully the midshipmen watched the search-light ray in its attempt to concentrate upon the rapidly moving launch. When once they were held in its beam, they would furnish as clear a target for their enemy’s guns as if it were day.
As Phil watched, fascinated, the wavering light, it stopped uncertainly short of the launch but truly in line, then the light raised suddenly and the lad was fairly blinded by the bright flash as it clung tenaciously to the discovered hull. The fort guns now renewed their vociferous cannonade and the screech of shells was sufficient to unnerve the stoutest heart.
“One hit and we’ll be counted out,” Phil exclaimed wildly, clutching Sydney in his excitement, as he dodged involuntarily the hot breath of the speeding projectiles.
“Take that sounding pole!” Langdon shouted hoarsely, as the terrified Chinamandropped it on deck and dived for safety below decks.
Sydney quickly grasped the pole as it clattered from the man’s hand, and plunged it over the side. It struck bottom, showing the water had suddenly become dangerously shallow.
“Keep her off,” he cried loudly, above the roar of the hissing shells.
Blinded by the bright glare of the search-light, Langdon had nearly run the launch ashore on the island, but by quick action, he now threw the bow out into the river. A low grating sound made Phil’s heart stop beating, but the next second the launch darted clear of the treacherous shoal. Then to the joy of the anxious men the search-light beam died suddenly away.
The fire from the forts immediately slackened, and in a few seconds had ceased altogether. An occasional boom and the screech of a passing shell, however, showed the Americans that the enemy was waiting impatiently to begin its fusillade as soon as the now extinguished search-light could again pick up the helpless target.
A startled cry from Emmons drew the Americans’ attention. Looking anxiously in the direction indicated by the half-breed, Phil saw the white and colored lights of a steamer standing up the river, in the middle of the main channel. Those in the forts seemed also to have made the discovery. The entire crest of the hill forts burst into sudden flame and the distant screech of shell told the lad that this time the launch was not the target.
“What can it be?” he exclaimed in a fever of excitement. “The allies know better than to carry lights. It must be a stranger.”
Then as he gazed spellbound upon the spectacle before him, the search-light of the fort once more cut its narrow path of flame through the inky blackness. It swept spasmodically over the intruder and then to the Americans’ delighted eyes was revealed the outline of a monitor, the light of the search-light beam reflected brightly from her glistening, pointed hull.
“The ‘Monterey’!” Phil cried, joyfully hugging Sydney. “And Jack O’Neil is on board her.” But a second later his joy was changedto apprehension. Would the monitor appreciate the situation and be prepared to return this fire? A fear took possession of his thoughts that the sailors, not knowing of the existence of hostilities, might have been standing unprotected upon the deck and before they could have sought the shelter of armor many might have already been killed by the shells of the enemy.