RUNNING THE BATTERIES
The midshipmen gazed fearfully toward the island. What could it mean?
Had the grass on the island been fired, and if so, would the fire reach
dangerous proportions before the fleet had safely passed its shelter?
What was the meaning of the launch ahead of their own?
Suddenly from a point on the far end of the island a single flame of
fire shot in the air; the breeze caught it, helping it forward on its
career of destruction. Quickly at intermediate points fires appeared
to spring to life out of the very ground. Then, as if to complete the
picture of failure in Phil’s mind, a heavy reverberation shook the dry
air and the noise of a screeching shell came to his ears.
“It’s the end,” gasped Phil as the search-light from the fort appeared
suddenly, as if the monstrous guns had been awakened from a sound
sleep and opened this one bright, piercing eye.
The midshipmen were spellbound with fear as they saw the beam of light
sweep slowly along the island, penetrating the thick grass. For an
instant, as the bright ray swept by, the launch ahead stood out in bold
outline.
“Ignacio’s launch!” Sydney exclaimed, aghast. Then the enemy dissolved
into the night. The light moved over their own launch and then step by
step approached the southern end of the island where, the lads knew,
was the column of advancing gunboats.
An exclamation of relief escaped Phil as he saw the beam of light
stop and then sweep back along the island. As yet, the gunboats were
undiscovered.
A terrible anxiety filled the lad’s mind. By now Commander Hughes would
know the meaning of the numerous fires. Would he turn back, believing
the attempt to run the forts would be a useless sacrifice? Here was
a situation from which there could be no protection. The channel ran
close to the island; the grass was dry and burned like a prairie fire.
After the great bonfire had once gained its head no living thing could
remain in the channel. In a half hour the fire would have devoured the
protecting screen and the gunboats would be in the direct view of the
fort guns.
After the first alarm gun the forts had become silent, but the lads
watched the search-light swing back toward the allied fleet. Then
Phil’s heart seemed to stop beating, then beat faster for joy as the
hull of the “Phœnix” appeared, standing out ghastly in the glow of the
conflagration, steaming boldly onward; the white surge under the bow
showed the effort Commander Hughes was making to take his fleet as soon
as possible through the waters of the dangerous channel. Then the lads
saw the terrible light sweep along the length of the following column;
deliberately it moved, revealing one after another of the unprotected
gunboats.
Then the sound of the fire so close at hand was drowned by a sullen
roar as the guns of the forts hurled their great shells toward the
daring gunboats, hastening forward silently to put the flames of the
burning island between them and this irresistible menace.
“If they can get behind the fire before it gets too hot they’ll be
safe,” Phil cried clutching Sydney’s arm in his excitement. “They can’t
see through the fire; even the search-light will be useless.”
“How many guns have you?” O’Neil asked suddenly. The boatswain’s mate
had in silence steered after the launch ahead, urging Emmons time and
again to encourage his men to speed the gasoline engine up to its
limit. “We can’t be no use to them gunboats,” he added in explanation;
“our job is to catch the fellows that set this here island on fire.”
Phil withdrew his attention with difficulty from the terrible one-sided
battle raging astern of them, to answer the sailor’s question.
“There are two stacks[3] and a thousand rounds of ammunition. Can we
catch them?” he questioned eagerly.
“If we can’t, we can stop ’em with twelve rifles,” O’Neil replied
grimly.
“I don’t dare fire on the launch,” Phil cried. “If we can overhaul
them, that’s another matter.”
The spectacle now revealed to those on the launch was awe inspiring.
The forts had developed into a blaze of fire, while all about the
advancing gunboats shells struck incessantly. The sides of the small
vessels had burst into flame as they fired their small guns at the
distant enemy. The high vegetation on the island near them burned with
ever-increasing rapidity, the flames mounting high in the air and
lighting the surroundings as bright as dawn.
The “Phœnix” now had entered the channel, and with her battery silent
cut swiftly through the brightly lighted water. The air was shaken by
the noise of shell and the shock of explosions.
The flame of fire from the burning island formed a fiery veil, through
which the eye could not penetrate, but by the increased roar of
explosions and discharges, the lads felt confident that the monitors
were now engaging the forts.
Another and even greater danger suddenly confronted the allies. The
breeze, which had been light, now had increased and was blowing the
suffocating smoke toward the channel. In a short while as the fire
gained headway the channel would be enshrouded in thick smoke through
which it would be well-nigh impossible to see. If by a fatal chance a
gunboat mistook the channel it would remain hard and fast aground and
in the morning would be destroyed by the forts.
The “Phœnix” was now close aboard, a wave under her forefoot showing
her burst of speed. The air every minute became hotter and more
stifling and those on the launch without protection would soon suffer
from the scorching heat of the flames.
A line whistled over the launch, while Commander Hughes’ cool voice
directed:
“Make it fast, and keep under our lee. We’ll protect you from the heat.”
Quickly the tow-line was secured in the bow of the launch and those
on board the smaller vessel were almost thrown from their feet as the
launch was dragged forward by the tautening of the tow-rope.
Thicker and thicker, and more stifling, became the smoke. The Americans
wet their handkerchiefs, putting them over their mouths to enable them
to breathe.
Phil wondered how the following gunboats were faring. The screech
of shell was no longer heard near them, but the reverberations of
discharges still smote upon their ears.
Then after what seemed hours of anxious waiting they emerged into the
clear night. Filling their lungs with the pure air the lads gazed about
them. The island, a mass of soaring flame, was behind them, and far
away on the port quarter they could see the stirring spectacle of the
monitors hotly engaging the forts. The city of Ku-Ling had been passed;
the lights of the three anchored gunboats were indistinctly visible in
the darkness.
“Where’s the launch?” Sydney exclaimed, gazing searchingly about him.
“She’s back to the ‘Albaque’ by this time,” Phil replied
disappointedly. “If we could have only caught them red handed. That
means that Ta-Ling and Ignacio have both been set free, for only they
would set fire to the island.”
Inside of ten minutes, Captain Hughes’ voice hailed them:
“Let go the line. We are going to anchor.”
The line was quickly cast off and a moment later, the lads were on
the deck of the gunboat, warmly congratulating their captain upon his
well-earned success.
“Signal the monitors to join us and be ready to land their sailors,”
the captain ordered the signal officer, then turning to Langdon, “We
must take the chance from this side. Perhaps we shall find the bridge
intact.”
The allied gunboats one after another dropped their anchors near the
“Phœnix.” As they passed the American vessel the crews manned the rails
with lusty cheers, which the “Phœnix’s” crew returned with a will.
“Here they come,” Sydney exclaimed in admiration as the two victorious
and unharmed monitors steamed swiftly toward their flagship and
anchored one on each quarter.
“This is to be only an American expedition,” Commander Hughes declared
to the eager midshipmen. “Four hundred men all told from the three
ships.”
Quietly and without confusion the American war-ships lowered their
boats and embarked their sailors. And inside of twenty minutes after
anchoring the strong force had started for the shore to push forward to
the relief of the mission.
Phil and Sydney remained with Commander Hughes, who had elected to lead
the force in person.
As the boats grounded upon the sandy shore the sailors noiselessly
fell in ranks under their officers. The American captain, with Langdon
as guide, took the lead, followed closely by the two midshipmen with
O’Neil and a dozen men. The main force came along a hundred yards
behind them.
As yet all was silent. The forts had ceased their fire, and no sound
came from the direction of the mission.
The force moved at a lively pace over the rough ground. The sailors
had been cautioned to move noiselessly, and all loose metal had
been carefully muffled; everything depended upon the possibility of
surprise, or else upon gaining admittance to the compound of the
mission before the enemy had gathered to the attack.
Phil marched by Langdon’s side; his blood warmed for adventure, and he
hoped that this time he would be able to see and enjoy the fighting.
During the few minutes in the attack on Lien-Chow, he had been so much
occupied in forcing Commander Ignacio to charge the enemy that he had
failed to take note of all save the sound of the bullets as they had
whistled past him. He rejoiced in the coolness and tact shown on all
occasions by his friend Langdon; his duty was not to fight, yet he was
ever eager to risk his life wherever Commander Hughes suggested.
The Americans moved steadily onward, Langdon time and again leaving
the narrow road to circle a small hamlet with its shading willow trees
in an endeavor to avoid the discovering bark of the always-present
Chinese dog. Fortunately the countryside was deserted; there were no
travelers on the road to flee and give warning of the approaching band
of hostiles.
As the distance to the mission diminished, the sailors grasped their
rifles more firmly, ever expecting to hear the discharges and see the
flashes of the guns of an ambushing enemy.
While the expedition was ascending a small hill covered with the graves
of centuries of China’s dead, Langdon turned quietly to his captain
and pointed to an indistinct mass coming in sight beyond the ridge
ahead of them.
“The mission,” he whispered; then he stopped in his tracks, while those
behind pressed forward eagerly to know the cause. The metallic bark of
a Colt gun rang out distantly on the quiet evening air, accompanied by
the duller rattle of musketry. The mission was already being attacked.