THE EMBASSY TO THE VICEROY
If the man with whom Phil had fought was a soldier of the viceroy, it
was indeed convincing evidence that the outlaws were receiving aid of
the official class. Lieutenant Wilson at once saw the seriousness of
the situation for all foreigners living within the provinces under
the jurisdiction of Viceroy Chang-Li-Hun. The American naval man knew
that his duty required him to place this information in the hands of
his commanding officer on board the “Phœnix” immediately, in order
that all the foreign powers represented might know that the threatened
uprising was no longer one of unorganized, misguided coolies or working
men, but was at the instigation of the powerful mandarins, receiving
their instructions, no doubt, directly from the viceroy himself. Did
he dare take the risk of sending messengers out of the mission at
this time when the enemy were doubtless gathered about the walls of
the compound, perhaps even now making up their minds to attack the
defending garrison? Yet in the morning affairs might have grown even
worse: the morrow’s sun might see the mission besieged, and every
outlet barred.
“Langdon,” Lieutenant Wilson questioned, after an impressive silence,
while his companions waited, looking to him to give the orders which
each felt the terrible development demanded, “are you sure that you
have read these characters correctly? We must not alarm the foreigners
unnecessarily. Might not this garment have been worn by a discharged
soldier? Are we safe in assuming that the viceroy is back of this
attempt on the gate because one of the culprits wears his uniform?”
“It is possible, sir,” Langdon answered thoughtfully, “but I believe
improbable. This plan is not one that could be conceived by a stupidly
ignorant coolie mob; you can see for yourself it must have been devised
by those who have some knowledge of the use of explosives; and knowing
as they must that the mission is being guarded by American sailors, it
was intended as an affront to the nation that they represent.”
“I believe you are right, Langdon,” the lieutenant agreed promptly.
“I shall act upon your judgment; your knowledge of the Chinese should
make your reasoning sound.” Then he turned to the expectant midshipmen:
“Mr. Perry, this news must be taken to Captain Hughes to-night; I
offer you the chance to go; your right to be chosen can’t be disputed:
your discovery of the viceroy’s treachery and your heroic conduct in
frustrating his design has won you the privilege.”
Phil flushed with pleasure at his senior’s words of praise, while he
stammered out his readiness to undertake the hazardous enterprise.
Asking that Sydney accompany him he received a ready assent.
“Can you spare me, too, sir?” Langdon asked earnestly. “I know every
foot of the land about here; I’ve shot pheasant all over these hills,
and understanding the language, may be a help to Mr. Perry if he should
be stopped by the natives.”
“Yes, certainly,” the lieutenant replied quickly, his face showing his
appreciation of the pilot’s offer. “I couldn’t order you, but your
desire to go speaks highly of your courage. It is our duty, as naval
men, to expose ourselves to danger.”
“It’s bred in me, too, sir,” Langdon answered. “I served with the flag
during my boyhood, and am ever ready to sacrifice all I have for it.”
“I shall not encumber you with useless messages,” Lieutenant Wilson
said finally to Phil as he turned to leave the gate-house and return to
the wall; “you know the situation and can explain our fears to Captain
Hughes.”
The midshipmen and the pilot went to prepare themselves for their
journey, while their senior ascended the wall to dispose his small
force in order to guard all approaches and prevent a surprise. There
would be few eyes closed in sleep that night; the gravity of the
situation was fully impressed on even the sailors accustomed as they
were to danger.
Hastily arming themselves with a pair of revolvers each and with plenty
of ammunition, the three volunteers again ascended the wall.
The moon had set and the land about the mission was veiled in
darkness. The men moved slowly along the wall of the compound, while
Langdon’s keen eyes peered into the night to discover the best location
to leave the mission. They had traversed nearly half of the wall and
were at the far end of the compound before the pilot seemed satisfied
that the way was clear. He put out his hand and touched Phil on the
shoulder.
“We’ll leave from here,” he whispered; “the Chinese, if they are about,
are all in the front. See; the land is clearer; there are not so many
graves as in the front to conceal an enemy.”
Throwing themselves down on top of the wall they grasped its edge, and
lowered themselves silently to the ground. Langdon led the way directly
from the mission, and further into the country. The land here was but
slightly cultivated, the ground firm and for the most part clear, so
our travelers swung along at a lively pace.
Having covered about a mile, Langdon stopped to allow his companions to
join him.
“This is the main road leading into the city,” the pilot informed them
as they arrived at the narrow path in which the speaker was standing.
“We’ll follow this right into the foreign concession; it’s late, past
ten o’clock, and there’ll be no natives on the road. It’s our safest
course.”
Phil nodded in sign of assent, his eyes on the Chinese road.
“A road, did you say, Langdon?” the boy asked; “it’s more like a
bridle-path.”
“It’s the only kind of road you’ll find in the Chinese Empire,” the
pilot replied as they moved swiftly over its uneven surface; “the
natives don’t use carriages and coaches for passengers, nor wagons to
carry their freight, but transport their merchandise in wheelbarrows or
on the backs of the small Tartar donkeys. In the north the Manchus have
a rickety cart drawn by man power or by pony and there the highways are
wider, but are even less smooth, for the natives never repair their
roads.”
They had traveled another mile when Langdon called a halt and
cautioning silence pointed to a grove of trees ahead of them.
“A village,” he answered the questioning looks of his companions;
“we’ll leave the road and circle it. The wind is from the river, so I
hope the dogs which inhabit these small towns will not smell us. These
Chinese curs have a keen nose for a foreigner and if our enemy is about
they might warn him of our presence.”
As they skirted the village Sydney glanced with interest down into
the mean and ill-smelling collection of mud-walled hovels, situated
below the level of the surrounding country. He had heard that this
location was chosen to protect its occupants from the blasts of the
winter gales, and in consequence during the wet season the floods
from the heavy and prolonged rains swept down upon them, carrying off
bodily their insecure buildings and frequently drowning many of the
unfortunate inhabitants.
“Will the Chinese ever learn to build their villages in a common-sense
way?” he asked the pilot.
“They’ve done the same thing for twenty centuries,” Langdon answered,
following Sydney’s gaze; “what was good enough for their ancestors is
good enough for them, is their motto, and nothing that we can say will
ever move them. After you’ve been here for a few years, Mr. Monroe,
you’ll cease wondering at anything you see the Chinese do.”
Suddenly the lads felt themselves grasped by the strong hands of
Langdon and drawn down into the thick grass. The silence was broken
by a faint sound of voices that seemed to come from directly below
them. Langdon motioned the boys to remain where they were, and crawled
noiselessly forward to the edge of the embankment surrounding the
village. Phil could now hear a high-pitched nasal voice, raised
excitedly after the Chinese fashion, with many loud and piercing
notes. He could see Langdon ahead of him partly hidden in the grass,
and his curiosity was aroused to know what this midnight meeting might
foretell. Then the voices ceased and the noise of tramping feet came
clearly to his ears. From out of the shadows, but a few yards from
where Langdon was lying, a squad of Chinese soldiers moved off into the
night, over the road they were traveling, toward Ku-Ling.
After a few minutes had elapsed, the soldiers’ footfalls dying away
in the distance, Langdon rose to his feet and joined the impatient
midshipmen.
“They were soldiers!” Sydney exclaimed. “We distinctly saw their
uniforms as they entered the road.”
“What were they saying? Could you hear?” Phil questioned eagerly.
“One of them was the man you fought with at the gate,” Langdon
answered; “it’s just as I supposed: there was a movement on foot to
attack the mission if that party was successful in destroying the
gateway. The one doing all the loud talking was ‘saving his face,’ as
the Chinese say; he was explaining that a monster, half man and half
bird flew down from the wall and put out the fuse as fast as he could
light it, and that he had mortally wounded the ‘devil,’ but fear having
entered his heart, he had run away as fast as he could, followed by his
companions. He says that the ‘foreign devils’ can change into these
monsters whenever they wish, and that their breath is like fire.”
Phil gasped in astonishment at the ludicrous account of his battle with
the soldier.
“But his companions will not believe any such tale as that,” he cried;
“surely they’ll know it is made up out of whole cloth?”
“On the contrary,” Langdon answered, “they’ll believe it, and
what’s more he believes it himself by this time. Doubtless he was
so frightened that he remembers little that happened, and their
imagination is so vivid that a Chinaman will generally believe his own
words as they fall from his lips.”
“What would have happened if they had been successful?” Phil
questioned. “That small body of men could not have intended attacking
us.”
“No, but after the gate had been blown in it would be an easy matter
for a few thousand Chinese to gather. There are tens of thousands of
Chinamen in these small towns within a mile of the mission. All they
need is a match to start them, and that was the intention of these
soldiers.”
“It looks as if it were serious,” Sydney said in an awed whisper as
they cautiously regained the road. The soldiers were not in sight, so
the Americans proceeded, cautiously watching for the first signs of
their enemy on the highway ahead of them.
Finally they reached the limits of the foreign concession, and it was
after midnight before they arrived on board the “Phœnix”; but Commander
Hughes was awake and directed that they be shown down to his cabin
immediately.
The situation was quickly explained to the naval officer by the
messengers.
The captain sat in silence for some minutes after they had finished,
his face showing strongly the strain he was under: all the Americans
on the river were in mortal danger, and he and his small force were
all that stood between them and a fate far worse than death. Phil and
Langdon anxiously watched the captain’s face as if to read the next
move on the international chess-board, which Commander Hughes, as the
senior among the foreign captains, was called upon to make.
“Gentlemen, the news you bring me is so terrible in its possibilities,”
the captain finally began, “that I am quite at a loss how to act. Our
force is too small to resist an attack; we must resort to diplomacy
with this rascally viceroy. And yet we don’t know how far-reaching the
movement may be. If we sit idly by the natives will gain confidence,
mistaking forbearance for cowardice, and can readily drive all
foreigners off the river.
“Mr. Perry,” the captain added, rising and ringing for his orderly, “I
want you to take the steam launch at once and go to each of the foreign
gunboats; request that their commanding officers come on board here to
a meeting in a half-hour’s time. Explain to them the gravity of the
situation.” Then turning to the waiting marine, “My compliments to the
officer on duty, and tell him to have the steamer ready for Mr. Perry
immediately.”
Phil soon delivered his captain’s messages to the officer of the deck
of each of the foreign gunboats and upon his return was detailed by
Commander Hughes for the duty of secretary to the international council.
Slightly nervous in the presence of so many seniors, the midshipman
sat near his captain, pencil in hand, ready to take notes of the
proceedings of the council.
“Commander Ignacio of the ‘Albaque’ is ill,” a young foreign lieutenant
announced as the American captain glanced at him inquiringly, “and
begs you will receive me as his representative.”
Commander Hughes bowed politely in agreement and then in a few words
described the incident at the mission.
“Before it is too late,” he added, “I believe that it is our duty to
lay our difficulties before the viceroy, and demand that he take steps
at once to quell this uprising. Meanwhile we should warn all foreigners
living in the foreign concession at Ku-Ling that if our diplomacy
fails they must be ready to take refuge on board the gunboats. We
must deal with the situation fearlessly, for only in that way can we
expect success. Chang-Li-Hun must be made to see the seriousness of his
inactivity.”
To this clear proposal all agreed and Commander Hughes was chosen by
acclamation to lead the embassy on the morrow to the viceroy’s yamen.
Two other commanders were selected, and then with many expressions for
success the council adjourned.
“I have my doubts of the utility of a conference with the viceroy,”
Langdon told the lads the next morning at the breakfast table. “He’s a
tricky Chinaman and generally has his own way.
“Well, we shall soon see,” he ended as an orderly appeared to summon
him and Phil to be ready within fifteen minutes to accompany their
captain on the mission to the high Chinese mandarin.
A half hour later a bright array of uniformed officers landed on the
jetty; there were three of the gunboat captains and their aides, all in
full dress uniform, which is prescribed for an official visit upon a
viceroy.
A line of green sedan chairs, the color portraying to the curious
throngs that their occupants were of the first rank in official
parlance, wended its way in single file through the guarded gates into
the stench of the crowded, walled city. Each chair was carried on the
muscular shoulders of four coolies, and at almost a dog’s trot, they
bore their burdens over the narrow, crooked streets.
Phil gazed excitedly upon the thousands of inquisitive natives,
crowding so near the foreigners that the pungent odor of their bodies
came distinctly to his nostrils; their ignorant faces at such close
range appalled him. The chair coolies cried out hoarsely, jostling the
multitude to prevent being trodden under foot by the persistent rabble.
The embassy had covered but half the distance to the yamen when it was
wedged tightly against a heaving mass of excited yellow bodies. Phil
saw the faces of the crowd darken with a superstitious loathing; he
seemed to read in their cruel eyes an awakening to the knowledge of
their power, and the helpless plight of the despised “foreign devils”.
The multitude pressed ever closer; reaching out their claw-like talons
to touch the gold-embroidered uniforms of the naval officers. The lad
cast a swift glance at Langdon next him; he felt confident he would
read in his face the extent of the danger threatening them. The pilot
was shouting unintelligible words to his chair coolies; the while his
face was black with passion.
The coolies refused stolidly to budge, and by sign threatened to
put down the chairs upon the ground; all the while jabbering and
gesticulating wildly to each other and to the mob, which appeared on
the point of engulfing the foreigners in its noisome embrace.