DISSENSIONS
Commander Hughes’ plans were agreed upon, though not until after much
opposition by the other members of the council, and word was at once
despatched to the foreign merchants and consuls ashore to close their
stores and houses and seek protection on board the gunboats of their
respective nationalities.
Inside of three hours all preparations were completed and the
international fleet weighed anchor and, in column, the “Phœnix”
leading, steamed boldly down the river.
Langdon had gone to the gunboat’s bridge to pilot the fleet through
the narrow and dangerous channel leading into the shallow waters of
the To-Yan Lake, leaving Phil and Sydney at their guns, aft on the
quarter-deck of the vessel; for all the gunboats had cleared for action
to be prepared in case the Chinese should precipitate hostilities.
While the fleet was getting its anchors up from the bottom of the
muddy river, they gazed with rising pulse at the unusual activity
inside the Chinese batteries; they could see groups of blue-clad
soldiers surrounding the big guns in their rocky emplacements. Would
the forts open fire upon the allied fleet as it steamed past?
The midshipmen knew that if one shot was fired from that impregnable
fortress at the miniature battle-ships the sound would travel around
the world. It would mean war! The forts belonged to the Chinese
government and were manned by her soldiers; no idle excuse would be
accepted by the nations insulted.
“These ships wouldn’t stand a ghost of a chance against those guns,”
Sydney exclaimed nervously as he joined Phil on his side of the deck.
The sailors stood silently at their batteries, each gun loaded with
high explosive shell and ready to hurl its charge at the enemy at close
range if it should suddenly declare war.
“It’s pretty short range,” Phil declared, “and our gun pointers could
send every shell through those rock gun ports. A fleet of our gunboats
would drive the Chinese gunners from their guns.”
“One Chinese shell, though, would sink us,” Sydney returned, intent
upon gaining his point. “However, let them go ahead. Those rascals will
find the ‘Phœnix’ will give them a surprise-party.”
“The monitors are what we need,” Phil exclaimed, “but they are over a
thousand miles away, broiling in the heat of Manila. With the monitors
here the forts could be silenced and captured by the fleet.”
The long column of moving gunboats was now stretched along the river
from Ku-Ling to the southward. The leader had now safely passed the
forts and its bow was directed down the river for the entrance of the
To-Yan Lake, a good six miles distant.
It was with a feeling of relief that the midshipmen saw the last
gunboat in column, following the “Phœnix’s” lead, pass out of range
of the fort’s guns. It showed that China, as a nation, had not as yet
openly challenged the world to battle; but if those in the forts had
known of the avowed intentions of the fleet might they not have acted
differently?
Under the skilful direction of Langdon, the Yangtse River pilot, the
allied fleet steamed to the southward, leaving on its starboard hand
the high bluff point of land below the city, upon which, fortunately,
the Chinese had not as yet mounted protecting batteries, and then
entered the shallow waters of the forbidden lake. From this point the
channel led away from the course of the river and to the westward
behind the city of Ku-Ling.
“Do you see Commander Hughes’ plan?” Phil exclaimed excitedly. He
took a piece of paper from his pocket, and drew a hasty map of their
surroundings. “Here’s the river, and here,” he said, “is the lake,
which we are entering. Lien-Chow, you see, is ahead of us,” and he
pointed to a dull color of blue that raised itself slowly from the
muddy waters of the lake. “It’s in the rear of the fort guns, you
notice, and our ships will be safely anchored while we are relieving
those in the mission, which lies over there.”
“Yes,” answered Sydney; “but if we succeed in repulsing the rebels at
Lien-Chow and rescuing the mission,” he went on doubtfully, “what shall
we do next? We shall be cut off from Ku-Ling. The forts will never let
us pass freely again.”
Phil put his sketch in his pocket. He wanted to complete it later and
send it home in his next letter. “Well,” he declared, “we can’t worry
over that now. The rescue of those in the mission, you see, is our most
important duty. The future must take care of itself.”
It was shortly after two o’clock in the afternoon, when the long
line of vessels dropped anchor off the town of Lien-Chow; and almost
immediately the gunboats had lowered their small boats and were
embarking their sailors. Phil found himself in the steam launch with
Commander Hughes and Langdon; the former had been chosen to command the
expedition, and the lad thanked his good fortune for his assignment as
aid.
The long line of boats, laden with armed bluejackets, rowed swiftly
toward the not distant shore of the bay, while two of the gunboats,
remaining under way when the fleet anchored, took up their stations
where they could shell the enemy if the landing was opposed.
[Illustration: _PHIL’S COMPLETED MAP_]
The midshipman stood beside Commander Hughes, whose keen eyes were
directed toward the Chinese town, in which direction the launch was
heading. Phil could not discern even a trace of nervousness in his
captain’s face, yet upon the success of this bold attempt to coerce
the Chinese mandarins his future career in the navy rested. Langdon’s
eyes were searching the approaching shore-line for signs of the enemy.
He hastily took the spyglass from Phil’s hand and leveled it in the
direction of a grove of trees to the right of the middle of the town.
“It’s a piece of artillery,” the pilot exclaimed, pointing with his
glass toward the grove.
Commander Hughes leveled his field-glass and gazed for a few seconds in
the direction indicated.
He had framed an answer, but it remained unspoken. A puff of brown
smoke darted from a bright flash amidst the trees, and the screech of
a shell came loudly to the ears of the advancing foreigners, while a
column of water rose suddenly in the air scarce fifty yards short of
the line of boats.
The two watchful gunboats, from the flanks, opened fire with their
broadsides, and in a second the grove was blotted from sight by scores
of explosions.
“That relieves us of the stigma of firing the first shot,” Commander
Hughes exclaimed gladly; “but I had hoped not to have to fire at all.
My prayer was that the rebels would disperse at this show of force.”
The boats had not covered another hundred yards when the town broke
forth, in its entire length, with a hail of rifle shots; the distance
was too great to see the flashes and hear distinctly the discharges,
but the water in front and around the boats was cut to foam by the
hissing missiles. As the boats drew nearer, the rattle of musketry
came sharply to Phil’s ears, while he heard again the wailing bullets
speeding by him. The attacking sailors were silent, but the flank
gunboats poured a storm of shell into the town.
Phil glanced admiringly at his captain; the latter was strikingly cool
in face of the stubborn resistance with which he had not reckoned; he
had believed that the rebels were but an unorganized mob and could
easily be intimidated by the allied forces; but instead he now saw that
the enemy was in force and well intrenched, while the screech of shell
and explosion of shrapnel above the sailors’ heads bore witness that
these Chinese outlaws were well supplied with modern ordnance.
A few boats in the long line wavered and held back, but the majority
kept steadily on, followed in but a few seconds by those less brave.
“When we ground,” Commander Hughes commanded, “you go to the right,
Perry, and you, Langdon, to the left: tell the officers to advance at
double time straight upon the intrenchments. We dare not stop now;
given the slightest encouragement, the Chinese could repulse us.”
Phil felt the launch tremble, and then a grating sound told him the
boat had reached as near the shore as its draft would allow. Without
hesitation, he jumped waist-deep into the water and waded to the shore,
a scant hundred yards away. He saw his two companions follow his lead,
then he started away at top speed up the beach amidst a perfect storm
of bullets, giving to the leader of each detachment as he passed the
commands of his captain.
“Form a skirmish line and advance on the double,” he shouted to boat
after boat as their keels grated on the sandy shore; then reaching the
last boat, he quickly turned and raced back to join his captain.
Running to seaward of the advancing sailors, he had covered but a
short distance when he found himself among a company of demoralized
foreigners; their swarthy faces were ashen from terror. The midshipman
at once saw the danger in this panic; already had it begun to spread to
left and right; the companies nearest the one in disorder had halted
and the sailors were glancing back uncertainly and with increasing
uneasiness. A general stampede was not far distant. The leader of this
shameless company appeared to be wild-eyed with terror. He seemed
powerless to stop the threatened rush for the boats. The lad stood
transfixed with horror. If the infection spread a panic would be the
natural consequence, bringing certain defeat to the allied arms and
leaving the mission helpless to the mercy of the cruel enemy. Without
a second’s hesitation Phil raced up to the fleeing officer. Whirling
him about to face the enemy, the lad cried out in sudden astonishment
and misgiving, as he came face to face with the man who had so grossly
insulted him in the bank at Ku-Ling.
Phil was conscious of a look of bitter hatred on the stranger’s swarthy
face, but there was no time to consider aught save the danger of a
panic and the defeat to his captain’s plans.
“Would you have us all massacred? Don’t you see that these Chinese will
run from you if you will only turn and charge as you were told?” the
lad cried desperately, menacingly emphasizing his words with his loaded
revolver. Then lowering his voice, he added in flinty tones for only
the officer’s ear: “Now run straight as you’re heading; if you turn
back I’ll blow a hole through you!”
The foreign officer felt the muzzle of Phil’s revolver prodding between
his shoulder-blades, close to his heart, and read the determination in
the American’s voice.
“Encourage your men to follow us,” the midshipman cried as the officer
moved forward uncertainly.
“Forward! Charge!” the officer ordered in a voice becoming bolder with
excitement as he saw there was nothing left him but to obey.
The startled sailors recoiled in surprise, muttering incoherently to
themselves, and then seeing their officer advance on a trot toward
the enemy’s trenches, they turned, at first fearfully, then gaining
courage, impetuously, and charged straight toward the source of the
leaden stream.
A quarter of an hour later, Phil stood beside Commander Hughes in the
trenches of the enemy, while the victorious sailors were following
doggedly the retreating rebels. Langdon stood close by guarding a
prisoner; within the pilot’s huge fist was clutched the Chinaman’s
snake-like cue, while he eagerly questioned the terrified man in
Chinese. The others waited impatiently to hear what intelligence could
be extracted from the much frightened Oriental.
“I impressed upon him that if he did not tell me the truth that I would
kill him,” the pilot exclaimed hurriedly; “he sticks to his story that
to-night they are going to attack the big mission on the graveyard
hills.”
“We’ve but half succeeded,” Commander Hughes exclaimed, the lines in
his face growing deeper from anxiety. “We’ve scattered the outlaws here
with heavy loss,” the dead bodies almost filling the deep trenches
speaking eloquently that fact, “but we must push forward at once to
relieve our mission. I cannot sleep another night until those innocent
non-combatants have been rescued. My men are even secondary,” he added
forcefully; “it is their duty and privilege to die in the cause of
humanity.”
“We cannot hope to succeed without opposition,” Langdon said; “but
before the news of our fight here arouses the viceroy to action against
us, we should relieve the mission, bringing everybody here where we
can protect them. It is but a two-hour march and is but the natural
sequence to the attack we have made.”
“Quite so,” Commander Hughes agreed hopefully. “Langdon,” he added in
a sad voice, “you don’t know what it is to rule a dozen different
nationalities. It is a wonder we can accomplish anything.” Then he
turned to Phil, who had listened eagerly, his young face full of
concern. “Recall the sailors,” he ordered.
After the men had been ordered back from their excited pursuit of the
fleeing Chinese and had fallen into military order in rear of the
captured trenches, the American commander gathered the senior officers
of each nationality about him to urge upon them the necessity of prompt
action to relieve the threatened mission.
Phil started, the hot blood suffusing his face, as he saw with sinking
heart the rank of the foreigner whom he had humiliated before his own
men. Three heavy gold stripes on the officer’s sleeve told him the rank
was that of commander, equal to that of his own captain. This cowardly
officer was then in command of one of the foreign gunboats, but why
had he not seen him before at the councils of the allies on board the
“Phœnix”? Was this Captain Ignacio of the “Albaque,” who had each time
pleaded sickness and sent a young officer to represent him?
Further speculation upon this perplexing situation was cut short by
Commander Hughes’ forceful talk to the allies. All listened intently;
the well-modulated, clear voice of the American held his listeners
spellbound with attention, but many of the foreigners showed in their
faces only too plainly that they already feared the displeasure of
their governments for having followed the lead of this strenuous
American commander. Was it not an American mission, guarded by American
sailors? Then why should not the Americans rescue their own people?
The officer who had felt the cold chill of Phil’s revolver was loudest
in his condemnation of further attacks; his arguments were so cleverly
worded that he soon won over to his side the timid ones. The British
captain alone stood by the American in his endeavors to persuade his
brother captains that their one chance of helping the missionaries was
to vigorously pursue the advantage already gained.
“We’ve not forgotten Tatnall’s ‘Blood is thicker than water,’” the
British commander exclaimed as Commander Hughes wrung his hand warmly,
in eloquent silence.
“We must abide by the decision of the majority,” Commander Hughes said
sorrowfully. “I dare not think what will happen to those within the
mission if my men cannot withstand the attack.” Then he turned flashing
eyes upon the group of hesitating foreigners.
“What do you propose?” he questioned, controlling the anger and
humiliation in his voice with some difficulty.
Phil saw the officer whom he had recently humbled before his men cast
a knowing look at several of his co-conspirators, and then heard him
boldly voice his plan.
“My compatriots,” he began, “believe that this useless killing of
Chinese is harming our country’s interests. We have decided that we
should send a flag of truce to the viceroy to request him to use his
own soldiers to fight these Chinese rebels.”
“A flag of truce!” cried Commander Hughes, in eloquent disdain. “How
will the viceroy answer us? Probably by throwing the lifeless carcasses
of our emissaries on the sand for the dogs to feed upon.”
Commander Ignacio flinched before the menacing disgust in the
American’s face, but he held stolidly to his point, while all of the
allies, with the single exception of Commander Buresford, echoed the
foreigner’s proposal.
“The Inland Mission containing over a hundred innocent men, women and
children, is still in danger from these rebels,” Commander Hughes
exclaimed anxiously, making a last stand for what he considered was
vital to his cause. “Although we have scattered their forces, they can,
as we know, quickly regather. By concerted action, even without danger
to ourselves and possibly without bloodshed, we can march this force of
two thousand sailors over the seven miles of intervening country. By
daylight we can return here with these refugees and then we shall be in
a far better position to again open negotiations with the viceroy. If
he should refuse to treat with us now--by to-morrow these outlaws will
have recovered from their repulse. I beg that my brother officers will
agree with me on this point,” he ended in entreaty.
Commander Ignacio craftily refused to allow the point to be discussed;
he feared the persuasive powers of the earnest and loyal American.
“We have decided that question,” he replied quickly, an ugly leer on
his face. “Now our business is to select those to go to the viceroy.”
Commander Hughes was about to suggest that this foolhardy foreigner
should be chosen, and was on the point of refusing to risk the lives of
his own officers in such a dangerous undertaking, when to his surprise
the name of Ignacio was voiced by the combined council.
Phil glanced closely at the foreigner. The lad had heard his captain’s
views of the possible fate of the flag of truce. Would Commander
Ignacio accept the dangerous post?
It seemed plain from Commander Ignacio’s face that the detail was not
to his liking, but in his successful attempts to overrule the plans of
the American, he had become the avowed leader of those in opposition
to the Anglo-Saxon policy of quick action. Phil was eager to accompany
the flag of truce, but to serve under Ignacio was indeed disquieting.
The midshipman could see that his captain was taken unawares by the
acceptance of Ignacio to lead the dangerous mission. Knowing the
Chinese as he did, he honestly believed they would go to their death.
The selection of the other members of the embassy was unanimously left
to the decision of their leader, Commander Hughes.
“As my country is the most interested,” the American declared, “I
shall select my own officers.” Then turning to the midshipmen standing
near, Sydney having left his company of sailors to satisfy his eager
curiosity, “Mr. Perry,” the American commander said in a low voice,
“you have shown yourself worthy of this trust. I shall send you, Mr.
Monroe and Langdon. I hope and pray that no harm will come to you.”
Phil could scarcely believe his ears. He, a midshipman, selected for
such an important duty!
Commander Hughes then again addressed the foreign commanders.
“Gentlemen,” he said in a firm voice, “I do not count on the success of
this flag of truce. If it fails we shall be forced to attack the forts
with our unarmored vessels. However, the decision is final. My orders
are that the embassy be sent without a moment’s delay. We shall remain
here until our friends return.”
Then, dismissing the allies, he took Langdon’s arm and walked toward
the American sailors.
“If I only had five hundred American sailors,” he declared hotly, “I
would throw over these half-hearted allies and march to the relief of
the mission. But with this mere handful, failure would be assured.”
Then he beckoned the midshipmen to him. “Langdon, you and these young
men must uphold the dignity of our country. You, Langdon, must speak
directly to the viceroy. Impress upon him that I am in deadly earnest.
If he harms the American mission I shall not rest until his city is
laid in ashes. I shall destroy his arsenals and foundries. The forts
will not be able to resist the attack of the American monitors, which
should soon arrive.”
“The monitors!” Langdon exclaimed. “Are they coming?”
“I wish I could believe it,” Commander Hughes replied sorrowfully. “But
we must make the viceroy believe that we are hourly expecting them. He
fears an American monitor, and the thought that they are coming may act
in our favor.”
Preparations went forward rapidly, and inside of half an hour,
Commander Ignacio led his small party out of the allied camp.
Carrying a large white flag conspicuously displayed, the four
emissaries, with an escort of eight sailors, four from the “Phœnix” and
four from the foreigner’s own gunboat, gained the road leading toward
the city of Ku-Ling. Unencumbered with all save their firearms, which
were carried for protection against the marauding bands of outlaws, the
seven miles were quickly covered, and in less than two hours the city
gate loomed before them.
Approaching the city wall, Phil saw that there was great commotion at
the gate; soldiers ran hither and thither, and before the flag of truce
had arrived near the stagnant water of the moat, there was a noisy
clanking of rusty chain, the drawbridge was suddenly raised, and the
ponderous gates tightly shut.
The midshipmen, in spite of the precariousness of their position,
could scarcely suppress a smile of gratification: this act alone
spoke volumes; what must these Asiatics think of the prowess of the
foreigners if they feared an attack from a dozen men?