THE ESCAPE
For the moment the midshipmen were sure that they had been discovered.
Then Langdon’s low voice reassured them:
“Come, it’s all right. They take us for mandarins, and are calling the
guard to ‘attention.’ Keep your sleeves over your faces and don’t look
up as we pass.”
Again the Americans were in motion toward the lighted gateway. With
hearts beating high, in a terrible suspense, their feet mechanically
carried them slowly toward the spot where they would be under the fire
of a scrutiny of scores of people whose nationality the Americans were
endeavoring to counterfeit. Would not the Chinese see through their
flimsy disguise? As the escaping men passed the first guard, he raised
his rifle smartly to the “present” in salute, but the quick motion
struck terror to Phil’s heart, making him jump aside involuntarily as
if he were dodging an expected blow. Shamefacedly the lad recovered
himself by a great effort. In a moment more the gateway was passed and
the Americans found themselves on the edge of the inquisitive crowd.
Langdon raised his hand, and immediately three chairs were brought by
coolies from the edge of the narrow street and placed obediently on the
ground before them. Phil longed to be within the shadow of the chair
canopies. How could these Chinamen be so easily deceived! As he fairly
dived into the friendly darkness of the nearest chair he cast a swift,
uneasy glance at the crowd. The reason of their immunity was plain.
The eyes of the crowd were directed upon the ground for fear in the
presence of their all-powerful rulers.
Langdon gave a brief order in Chinese. With high hopes for success Phil
felt his chair borne upward to the muscular shoulders of the coolie
carriers and then with loud shouts of warning to the crowd to make
way, they started off in a long, swinging walk. Phil drew his curtains
tightly shut and lay back with a great sigh of relief in his cushioned
seat.
They were out of the yamen at last, but the city gate must yet be
passed. If their absence were discovered while they were yet within the
walled city their recapture was assured.
Although the coolies traveled at a lively pace, it seemed to the
anxious Americans that they were but crawling through the deserted
streets; the Chinese on account of the lateness of the hour were all
within their hovel-like houses. An occasional soldier, clanking a chain
loudly to frighten away demons, and calling out in his harsh language
that all was well, brought a sudden shock to Phil’s high-strung nerves.
At last the gate of the city was reached and the chairs stopped.
Through his bamboo screen Phil saw that the guards were hesitating
about opening the gate. Once a gate was closed an order from the
viceroy alone could open it between the setting and rising of the sun.
An officer came forward, peering inside the protecting hoods. Phil
believed that all was lost as he felt, even in the gloom of his chair,
the scrutinizing gaze upon him. The officer spoke a few words, and the
lad realized by the rising inflection in the man’s voice that he was
asking a question. The midshipman nodded and raising his hand pointed
haughtily to the gate.
Then to his joy the officer withdrew his head as if satisfied and gave
an order in a loud voice. Immediately the gate swung open and with a
rattle of rusty chain the drawbridge was lowered.
Quickly the Americans were carried through the gate and across the
moat. They had left the terrors of the walled city and were now upon
the neutral ground of the foreign concession. As they passed over the
wide streets, in great contrast to the ill-kept, narrow ones of the
Chinese city, the pungent odors of the docks struck pleasantly upon
their nostrils.
Phil’s chair was still in the lead, and the Chinese carriers, as if
acting under instructions, trudged steadily onward to the “Bund,” the
street paralleling the water front. Finally the coolies halted, putting
the chairs down for the occupants to alight. Phil disentangled himself
from the enshrouding curtains and stood on the broad street, joyfully
inhaling the fresh air of the river, while Langdon waved the coolies to
be gone.
Once alone the Americans were at liberty to talk. Phil told in as few
words as possible of their visit to Emmons and the Tartar general.
“Where is Emmons?” Langdon exclaimed irritably. “We’re in as much
danger as ever here. The foreigners have all fled. The concession is
deserted, and doubtless the streets are full of robbers who would
very cheerfully pitch us into the river for the sake of a few Mexican
dollars.”
Phil was about to disclaim any knowledge of the whereabouts of the
half-breed, when Sydney’s exclamation of surprise drew his attention to
three small gunboats anchored in the river but a short distance away,
and the bright lights of a steam launch approaching the jetty from one
of their dark hulls.
Phil’s heart was filled with joy. Here at last was safety!
The three men hastened gladly to the landing at which the launch had
arrived, while Phil stepped forward to accost an officer who had
hastily left the launch and was approaching up the ladder from the
landing float below.
“You are late,” the newcomer said irritably. “I’ve been watching the
landing for over an hour.”
Phil was about to reply, but something which he could not explain held
his tongue, for he recognized instantly the voice of Ignacio.
“Where are your chairs?” Commander Ignacio continued; “you can hardly
expect me to walk through the dirty streets of your ill-smelling city,
even for the pleasure of seeing that young braggart tortured in true
Chinese fashion. You see I am not entirely confident of you and your
viceroy, so I have brought along a few companions;” he pointed toward
the float, where eight or ten sailors had disembarked from the launch,
rifles in hand.
Phil’s tongue clove to the top of his mouth at the suddenness of their
dilemma. What should he do? Ignacio had said too much now to cover his
tracks, and his sailors would undoubtedly obey his orders, even to
killing three innocent Americans in cold blood.
“Come, what are we waiting for?” the foreigner added, grasping Phil’s
arm, and turning him away from the river. “I don’t want to lose all my
sleep; it’s nearly ten o’clock now.”
Phil’s companions stood by speechless. Even Langdon with all his sang
froid was at a loss what to do. To reveal their true character to their
enemy would mean that at the least he would take them forcibly back to
the viceroy. Phil at the Naval Academy had been declared a fine mimic
and in the class minstrel shows he had to the delight of the brigade
caricatured and impersonated each of the officers on duty at the
school. Could he impersonate Ta-Ling? Was it possible to imitate his
voice and the peculiar pronunciation of the English words? It was their
only hope. Even if he failed, they could be no worse off.
By a great effort he stilled the rapid heartbeats and brought his
trembling voice under control.
“I was detained by his Excellency the viceroy,” he began in a voice
that startled even himself and made Langdon and Sydney fairly jump
with surprise and glance hastily around for the owner of that despised
voice; “but if you are now ready we can start. The chairs are up the
street only a short distance.”
Commander Ignacio voiced his willingness and the two men in the lead,
followed by Sydney and the pilot, retraced their steps toward the gate
of the walled city.
“Send your men back to the ship,” Phil, stopping suddenly, said in the
voice of Ta-Ling. “You know me well enough to know that I have no wish
to harm you.”
Commander Ignacio hesitated. Doubtless he felt safer with a few trusty
sailors between himself and the treacherous Chinese.
“Did you send my telegrams?” he asked quickly; “and have any come from
Washington for that American pig?”
“Yours were sent,” Phil answered promptly, “but the American captain
has received none.”
“Well, it will come, I’m sure, and then after he is disgraced, I
shall be chosen as the leader of the allies,” the foreign captain
said boastfully; “but you must keep your part of the contract and
hold your people in check until I can get the credit of quelling
the disturbance. Say a month before you kill these flat-chested
missionaries.”
“That was our agreement,” Phil replied; “now show that you have
confidence in me and send your men aboard.”
Commander Ignacio reluctantly left Phil’s side and walked back to the
landing float to give his orders.
“Don’t open your mouths!” Phil whispered in a tense voice. “When his
men are once out of sight I’ll lead him to where he thinks the chairs
are waiting. When I raise my hand, jump on him like a ton of brick. The
chairs we got were waiting for Ta-Ling and they may now be waiting for
him near here, so we must be quiet about it. I noticed the coolies were
surprised when Langdon motioned them to go.”
Phil had barely finished his instructions before Commander Ignacio
rejoined him.
“I’ve sent them back,” he said in a voice that showed plainly his
dislike at so doing, “and ordered the launch to return and wait for me.
Have you the viceroy’s promise for the railroad concession?” he ended
covetously; “it means fifty thousand[1] Mexican to you when the deed
is signed.”
“Yes, that’s all fixed,” Phil replied, now laughing inwardly at the
success of his strategy, as he saw the steam launch with the sailors
leave the float and head back to their ship.
“Remember your promise to make way with those three Americans. Their
government will do nothing except demand satisfaction,” the foreigner
urged earnestly. “That means a little money squeezed from the viceroy’s
hoarded savings and half a dozen cut-throats beheaded in the presence
of the American representatives.”
“But you only asked that one of them be executed,” Phil returned,
aghast at his joke on such a gruesome topic.
“Well, I might have said only one,” Ignacio made answer; “he is the
darker of the two midshipmen; the one that dared rebuke me at the
council before the viceroy; but the others know too much to go free.”
By this time the party had left the docks and were walking slowly up
the street leading to the city gate. The street was in darkness. The
few lanterns had not been lighted since the exodus of the foreigners,
and as they passed the large buildings, it was plainly seen that the
foreign concession had been given over to pillage; the steps and
pavement in front were littered with articles which could not easily be
carried away by the avaricious Chinamen.
“Have you a revolver?” Phil asked. “I am not armed, and sometimes these
robbers are dangerous if they think they can get money.”
Phil wanted to know if Ignacio was armed. He feared that in the
struggle which was soon to come a pistol might be accidentally
discharged, which would not only arouse the Chinese guards at the gate
scarcely a few hundred yards away, but might bring a party of sailors
from Commander Ignacio’s ship.
“Yes, two; one in each pocket,” the foreigner answered, shoving his
hands in the pockets of his naval tunic. “I always carry them, and I
can shoot through my coat from the hip and hit every time.”
“Good,” Phil thought; “they’ll come in very handy for us before the
night is over.”
They were nearing a part of the street which to the lad seemed the very
place to carry out his design to render harmless the companion walking
so confidently beside him.
“Our chairs should be near here,” he said, leading the way down a
narrow alley behind a great white building, the English Bank, which
Phil recognized as the scene of his first encounter with Commander
Ignacio. What spot could be more fitting for this last encounter?
Then he continued: “What makes you think a telegram will come from
Washington disgracing the American captain?”
“The telegram you sent me this morning was from my friend, the naval
attaché in Washington; he says it is already published in the American
paper,” Commander Ignacio answered. “Everything is printed in the
newspapers in America, you know. They do not understand there the
military value of secrecy, which is the fundamental basis of diplomacy.”
Phil ground his teeth in rage and mortification. He could have struck
the man down for talking of his country and countrymen so slurringly.
Yet he could only acknowledge that the man was but repeating what had
often been said in Europe.
“Where are the chairs?” Commander Ignacio asked in some alarm, as they
reached the end of the alley and it was apparent that the square,
court-like space was empty. Phil appeared to search the deeper shadows
with his eyes, at the same time making the guttural call which he had
heard used by Chinamen calling to them a chair and coolies. Ignacio
still had one hand in his pocket and Phil felt sure his nervous finger
was on a trigger. The lad racked his brain to devise some scheme to get
him off his guard. Even now his suspicions might have been aroused.
Langdon and Sydney were close behind their victim, doubtless watching
eagerly for the sign from Phil. Ignacio stood close to a door, his
right hand, which was no doubt encircling the butt of a revolver,
nearest the knob.
“Try that door,” Phil said in as careless tones as he could command.
“It’s rather damp outside and they might have gone inside to sleep.”
It apparently did not occur to the foreigner that the great bulky
chairs would not be taken inside, and if the coolies were there the
chairs would have been plainly in evidence in the court, for he
unguardedly took his right hand from his pocket and raised it to the
doorknob.
Phil waited not a second, but raised his hand quickly above his head.
He saw the bodies of Sydney and Langdon hurl themselves upon the
unguarded victim. Then the door flew open inward and his heart stopped
beating with terror and dismay, while the silence was broken by the
loud report of a pistol shot, accompanied by the most unearthly yells
he had ever heard.