ABOARD THE “PHŒNIX”
Commander Barnes consulted his watch and then called for his orderly.
The ring of the bell had scarcely sounded before a marine stood
obediently before him.
“It’s eleven now,” the captain mused, then, turning to the orderly:
“My compliments to the executive officer. Tell him to secure and pipe
down. We shall remain here for the present.”
Forgetting in his anxiety the vast gulf in rank between them, Phil
raised his hand impatiently.
“Captain!” he exclaimed, intensely in earnest. “We must go to Commander
Hughes immediately. The mission must be relieved to-night. It is
probably now surrounded by the outlaws. To-morrow the difficulties will
increase. The secret channel may be impossible, besides there are four
American sailors in prison in the yamen. By to-morrow they will have
been executed.”
Over Commander Barnes’ face flitted for a second the suspicion of a
frown, while the orderly waited with indecision in his manner.
“By the morning we shall have two monitors,” the captain answered; “I
think we can rely on their guns to escort the fleet past the forts
without harm. However, you may go on your launch and give your news to
Commander Hughes. I have orders forbidding me to enter To-Yan Lake.
“I do not see how the allied fleet can possibly embark its sailors and
be here before daylight,” he added, after a few moments’ thought, “so I
see no reason to keep my officers and men up all night in waiting.”
“Commander Hughes will be here inside of three hours,” Phil urgently
exclaimed. “I am sure, sir, that he will not lose a moment. He does not
wish to risk fighting the forts. If he can bring Ku-Ling under his guns
without a fight, he will win his point and save the foreigners.
“If I may suggest, sir,” the midshipman added in a respectful voice,
“it would be best to keep all ready to get under way. It is but ten
miles to the allied fleet. We shall be there in an hour and in two more
the gunboats will be here on their way to enter this secret channel.”
Commander Barnes smiled indulgently at the lad’s earnestness as he
waved a dismissal to the orderly.
“Tell the executive officer,” he said, “to be ready to get under way in
three hours and notify the officer of the deck to keep a sharp lookout
for the ‘Monadnock.’ Signal her when sighted to anchor near us.
“Your captain has a convincing advocate in you, Mr. Perry,” he
continued, after the orderly had departed with his message. “I shall
wait his coming and be ready to join him.”
Phil was elated with the success of his appeal, and in a short time he
had gathered his party together ready to again embark in Emmons’ launch.
Before leaving the captain’s cabin the midshipmen had asked that
boatswain’s mate O’Neil be allowed to go, to steer the launch, which
request Commander Barnes readily granted.
“The telegram is the only order relieving our captain of his command,”
Phil exclaimed to Sydney while the launch sped toward the distant
lights of the allied fleet. “What would happen if I gave him the
cable?” he asked quickly.
“He would have but to obey it,” Sydney answered. “It’s a direct order
from the navy department. Commander Barnes as senior officer of the
American ships would be bound to send a flag of truce and offer his
apologies for Commander Hughes’ actions.”
“And that would mean a victory for the viceroy and Ta-Ling!” Phil
exclaimed. “If I lose my commission for it that telegram is going to
remain secret until the allied fleet have exacted an humble apology and
restitution from those guilty of wishing to murder innocent foreigners.”
In the light of a solitary lantern Phil opened the envelope and glanced
excitedly over their enemy’s correspondence with the viceroy. It was in
English and written in a clear and legible hand.
Paper after paper was read in silence by the two midshipmen, revealing
the most bare-faced treachery.
“Do you remember that day at the bank?” Phil exclaimed suddenly after
he had finished reading a letter which he held open before him, his
face in the thin light betraying intense wrath and indignation. “I have
wondered so often over that incident. I have never until now been able
to discover why Ignacio was so angry at me for picking up his letter
from the ground. Do you remember how he snatched it from my hand? I
thought he would strike me. Well, that innocent sheet of paper was a
letter from Ta-Ling. If I could have held it another minute much of our
trouble would never have occurred. This is Ignacio’s answer:
“‘I will do all in my power to thwart the aim of these Americans. I
despise them as much as you do. I have just drawn on the company which
I represent for the sum you named, and it will be deposited in the bank
at Shanghai. When you have obtained the viceroy’s signature, giving
my company the railroad rights from here to Peking, I shall at once
transfer this sum to your credit.
“‘Your letter was picked up from the bank floor, where I had carelessly
dropped it, by a young American officer. I do not think he had enough
knowledge or time to divine its meaning.’”
The two midshipmen looked sheepishly at each other for a second and
then both laughed.
“We are innocents, aren’t we, Phil?” Sydney laughed. “Now it’s all
clear. Ignacio attempted to throw the allies into a panic at Lien-Chow.
He worked himself into being selected as the senior officer for the
flag of truce, and he concealed his eagerness so cleverly that we
thought he was afraid. Then he played his game beautifully before the
viceroy. But by to-morrow morning Ignacio’s dreams will be smashed.
Ku-Ling will awake to find the fleet at anchor with its guns trained on
the viceroy’s palace.”
“What’s this new mischief you’re hatching?” inquired Langdon,
approaching the midshipmen, after having conned the launch over the
treacherous shoals at the entrance to the lake. “We’ll be at the fleet
in a short time now,” he added, pointing to the lights fast appearing
ahead.
Phil arose, throwing a swift glance at the lights of the gunboats,
growing ever brighter as the launch sped swiftly onward. Then he
returned to his seat on the deck house and told the pilot of the
discovery.
“Why did you never tell me of this meeting with Ignacio in the bank?”
Langdon asked, in a hurt voice. “I might have put two and two together
and saved us a great deal of trouble.”
“Oh! pipe down, Joe Langdon!” Phil exclaimed, in good humor. “You
wouldn’t have found it out any sooner than we did. It’s all plain
enough now after you know.”
“I can’t help worrying about our four sailors,” Sydney said sadly, and
immediately the mirth died on Phil’s face. “After Ta-Ling is released,
he will be mad enough to have them summarily executed.”
His companions made no reply. Each felt that the chances for the four
captive Americans were small.
While the launch was approaching the line of anchored ships, Phil left
his two companions and stood close beside O’Neil, while the sailor
steered for the lights which had been pointed out to him as being on
board the “Phœnix.”
The lads were delighted to have this fine American sailor-man again
with them. Phil recounted again all the exciting adventures through
which they had just passed and O’Neil in his turn told of the
monotonous life on board a monitor in Manila Bay.
“It’s worse than going to sea in a submarine, Mr. Perry,” the sailor
exclaimed. “She’s so low in the water and rolls so quickly that we was
awash all the way up the China coast. We couldn’t use them big guns at
sea; one second they are pointing in the water and the next they are
looking at the moon; but here in the river it’s different. We can cut
our name on those forts if they’ll give us a chance.
“That captain of yours, Mr. Perry, is a fire-eater. There ain’t nothing
he is afraid of. I am glad,” he added, lowering his voice, although
there was no one but a Chinese crew man within ear-shot, “to hear you
tell me that our skipper ain’t going to lead this expedition. He’s all
right when he gets good and mad, like he did when the fort fired at him
to-night, but he ain’t got the initiative. Now, ‘Bucko’ Hughes, that’s
his name on the foc’s’le, is different; he always likes to hit first.”
Then he continued in a moralizing tone while he spun his wheel to steer
the course to bring the ship’s lights on a proper bearing:
“The longer I live, Mr. Perry, the more I believe that’s the best
tactics for a fighting man. If you hit first and hit hard enough maybe
the other fellow’ll drop his fists and say he’s had enough.”
Phil slapped the sailor on the back in sign of agreement with his
views, while O’Neil brought the “Phœnix’s” lights, now close aboard,
broad on his beam in order to round to for a landing at the gangway,
and in answer to a hoarse challenge from the gunboat, he sang out in
his clear voice:
“Aye! Aye!”
“We’re still midshipmen,” Phil corrected; “you should have answered
‘No! No!’”[2]
“That’s all right, sir,” the sailor returned with a grin. “It ain’t who
you are; it’s the news you bring. If I’d said, ‘No! No!’ they might not
have waked ‘Bucko,’ and I know he’d want to see you as soon as you put
foot on board.”
A few minutes later Phil led the way up the gangway ladder and soon
found himself in the enthusiastic embrace of the officer of the
deck. Although it was after twelve o’clock many of the officers were
awake and a glance about the ship told the midshipman that careful
preparations were being made to protect the vital parts of the gunboat
from the shells of the enemy.
They were told that Commander Hughes was in the cabin and as yet in
ignorance of the return of the hostages.
“I sent down word just now by the orderly,” the officer of the deck
said with a smile, “that some commissioned officers were coming
alongside in a launch, so I suppose he’s awake, for it’s not often that
we receive callers this time of night.”
The three Americans and Emmons went hastily to the captain’s cabin,
where they found the orderly awaiting them, while Commander Hughes was
seated at his desk. Phil was shocked at the change in his captain’s
face. His buoyant expression had been displaced by a haggard look and
as he turned his eyes toward the door, the lad noticed, with a twinge
of pity, that their expression was one of worry, while the dark circles
below them told only too plainly the story of sleepless nights.
It was not until Phil had advanced almost to his side that Commander
Hughes realized who his visitors were. Then the mask dropped from his
face and he sprang eagerly to his feet with a glad cry.
“I was just thinking,” he exclaimed joyfully as he embraced one after
another of the men returning to him as if from the grave, “that for a
glimpse of you safe on board here again I’d give ten years of my life.”
After the first joyful shock of meeting was over Commander Hughes made
the midshipmen and their companions be seated, and each in turn told
the thrilling details of his experiences since leaving Lien-Chow with
the flag of truce. The story of Commander Ignacio’s duplicity, much to
the lads’ surprise, brought forth but little comment.
“I have suspected him,” their captain answered, almost sadly, “since
his return without you.”
When the part in their ventures taken by Emmons was told him, Commander
Hughes arose from his chair and, much to the embarrassment of the
half-breed, took his hand in both of his, thanking him eloquently for
his self-sacrificing acts. Then Phil’s heart leaped with delight as his
captain cast from him all signs of sentiment; the old fire had returned
to his eyes.
The midshipmen were so intent upon their own experiences that the
mention of the arrival of the monitors came only at the end of their
narrative.
Commander Hughes could hardly believe his ears.
“The monitors are actually here!” he exclaimed, doubting the welcome
news. It was too good to be true.
[Illustration: “_THE MONITORS ARE ACTUALLY HERE!_”]
“The ‘Monterey’ is at anchor at the entrance of the lake,” Phil assured
him. “The ‘Monadnock’ should have arrived by now. Commander Barnes
has kept up steam awaiting your arrival. I told him you would go up the
river to-night,” he added hastily.
Commander Hughes’ joy showed plainly in his strong face.
“How glad I should be that I have not yielded to the persistent
counsels of the other captains!” he cried. “No one knows what these
last few days of suspense and uncertainty have been. When Ignacio left
us it required the combined effort of Buresford and myself to prevent
the rest from following like a flock of sheep. I had wrung a reluctant
promise from those remaining to attempt to run the batteries to-morrow
night unless the viceroy agreed to our demands. My letter to him sent
by one of the renegades has not been answered.”
Phil gasped. The viceroy’s answer was in the pocket of his blouse, but
he must not deliver it. To do so would betray the fact of a telegram.
“But now,” the captain continued, “we cannot wait for his answer. The
lives of those in the mission depend upon immediate action on our part.
I feel sure that the news of the arrival of the monitors and this
chart of a safe channel will bolster up our allies’ waning courage.
“I fear for the sailors in the yamen,” he added, a note of grave
anxiety in his voice; “but if a hair of their heads is injured I shall
not rest until those guilty of the outrage are punished. The viceroy
himself shall not escape the penalty of this crime.”