As he ran in beyond the zone of light by the gate, Dave saw more
clearly through the darkness. Good reason was there for that double
barrier to swing open.
At the wheel and windlass of the gate stood Pembroke, both arms tugging
hard and succeeding in slowly swinging the halves of the gate inward.
So intent was he upon his treacherous achievement that Pembroke neither
saw nor heard the man dashing upon him.
Whack! A blow with the butt of Darrin’s revolver laid the scoundrel
flat.
On to the gate dashed Dave, just as an exultant yell outside told him
that the yellow multitude was about to rush in.
Slam up against the gate rushed Ensign Dave, the force of his body
sending the two halves shut.
Outside the tumult increased, as scores of yellow shoulders were hurled
against the barrier.
“Help! Here! Quick!” roared Darrin.
Above the tumult his voice carried hardly any distance.
The pressure of the Chinese outside must finally overcome his straining
muscles as he struggled to keep the gate closed.
Just then a sailor passed at a trot, with a message. Hearing Dave
yelling for assistance, he looked at the gate and made out the figure
of his officer there, trying to hold off the multitude.
“All hands to the gate!” yelled the seaman, using his hands as a
trumpet. Some of those within the circle of lanterns heard, and took up
the alarm.
Jackies rushed to Darrin’s side, hurling themselves with all their
strength against the gates. Their combined efforts seemed to be as
nothing.
Three of the missionary party had hurried to the spot. There were now
five men against the scores outside.
The mechanism of the gate had not been wholly opened, and that fact
helped greatly.
Sailors and marines sprang up from many quarters. By this time, if the
Chinese succeeded in getting through they would find themselves
confronted by a platoon of rifles.
“Hold fast!” yelled Dave. “Ross, come with me!”
Officer and man rushed to the wheel that controlled the opening and
closing of the gate. Seizing this, and throwing into it all their
combined muscular force, they succeeded in driving the double barrier
close.
“Here are the double bars!” shouted one of the marines at the gate.
“Some one took them down.”
Up went the bars, which were now made fast in place, and once more the
gate was securely closed.
Placing a whistle to his lips, Dave ran along the wall. Even above the
Babel of voices the shrill note of the whistle was heard.
“Aye, aye, sir!” bawled down a petty officer overhead.
“Turn your marksmen loose on that rabble before the gate. Use the
machine gun, too. Make it as deadly for the scoundrels as you know how.
Up to the ramparts you men at the gate, and fire on the mob!”
Chinese yells of battle changed to groans of pain as the American
firing rattled out more heavily than at any other time that day.
From the river came the broad white beam of the “Castoga’s” search
light.
Boom! A shell dropped in the rear of the multitude and more houses were
in flames, lighting up the scene.
“Hammer them as they run!” breathed Ensign Darrin fervently. “Keep it
up as long as you can see any one to shoot at.”
Boom! The “Castoga” took a further hand, by dropping one shrapnel
shell, and then a second, among the seething, yellow rebels revealed by
the searchlight.
Within two minutes the great open space had been cleared, save for the
bodies of several hundred killed and wounded.
“The searchlight is sending a signal, sir,” spoke up one of the men.
There on the rampart, Dave read these words as they were signaled in
the code:
“Good work, Darrin and all hands!”
“Give our commanding officer three times three, and do it with a will!”
shouted Ensign Dave. “Our shipmates will hear it.”
And hear it they must have, for, no sooner had the cheering on the
rampart ended when a distant, yet distinct sound of cheering drifted in
from the river.
“How many have you on your casualty list?” was signaled by the
searchlight.
“Seven of my men and three missionaries,” answered the signal man, as
he stood wigwagging, using a Chinese lantern hastily appropriated for
that purpose. “None killed. All women safe.”
Fast as he was with his wig-wagging, the signalman was glad when he had
finished his work, for such a storm of bullets sang by him that none
could understand how he escaped with his life.
Not until now did Darrin have time to think of Pembroke.
“I must get that blackguard!” he muttered, running down into the
compound.
At first Dave could not locate the fellow. At last, however, he sighted
him, half-hiding against a part of the wall where the gloom was most
pronounced.
“Well, sir?” demanded the young officer, striding up to the man who
held a handkerchief against his injured scalp.
“Was it you who struck me down?” demanded Pembroke.
“It was.”
“Why did you do such a dastardly thing?”
“Das—” gasped Dave, astounded. “See here, fellow, don’t you believe
that I knew what you were up to?”
“I—I was trying to close the gate, which some of the scoundrels outside
had partly succeeded in opening,” Pembroke asserted stoutly.
“You lie!” retorted Ensign Darrin, staring sternly into the
Englishman’s eyes. “You were opening the gate. The direction in which
you were swinging the wheel proved that. And I struck you down!”
“You are wronging me fearfully, Darrin!” Pembroke protested, with a
strong attempt at injured dignity.
“Then I’m going to injure you still more outrageously,” Darrin
retorted, “for I’m going to place you in arrest. Moreover, if I live to
get to the ‘Castoga,’ you are going out there with me as a prisoner.”
“Darrin, you—you must be joking,” stammered the fellow.
“No; I am not—Rogers!”
Dave watched for the effect of that shot. At mention of the name
Pembroke turned more pallid.
“What do you mean by using that name when addressing me?” he stammered.
“Because it’s your right name,” Dave retorted. “You used that name
before you ever used the name of Pembroke. Rogers, you are under
arrest. Walk on ahead of me, straight to the circle of the lanterns.
Don’t attempt to trifle with me, for my patience was never so short as
it is now. March!”
“Surely, you are not going to humiliate me before all the ladies,”
protested the prisoner. Warned by the light in Ensign Dave’s eyes he
started forward.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” snapped Darrin. “I’m going to
expose you so fully that you’ll get no recognition save that of scorn.”
“Darrin, one of these days you’re going to pay a big penalty in regrets
and apologies,” the prisoner warned him.
“Fiddlesticks!” uttered Dave disgustedly.
Marching the fellow up under the light of the lanterns, Dave found
several women eyeing him strangely.
“Why, is Mr. Pembroke a prisoner?” cried Lucy Chapin.
“He is, Miss Chapin,” Dave assured her.
“But surely, he can have done noth—”
“All he did, Miss Chapin, was to try to open the main gate of the
compound wall and let in the Chinese rabble. I caught him in the act,
but, beyond knocking him down, I did not have time to attend further to
him just then. On the fellow’s head you will observe the cut made by
the butt of my revolver when I struck him down.”
“It seems so impossible to believe!” murmured Miss Chapin.
“And Mr. Pembroke, ladies, is also the rogue who once went under the
name of Rogers. Further, I am convinced that this Pembroke, or Rogers,
has been in league with the governor of Nu-ping, and with the
governor’s underlings. I am certain, in my own mind, that this fellow
is largely responsible for the attack on the mission, and for all our
troubles on this day and night.”
Dave’s plain words and his simple, straightforward manner carried
conviction even to those who were, like Miss Chapin, reluctant to
believe ill of the one who had called himself Pembroke.
“Marine, there!” called Dave, turning. The sea-soldier stepped over,
saluting.
“You will take charge of this prisoner and be responsible for him. You
will be prompt to shoot him if he tries to escape.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
Dave Darrin turned to lift his cap to the ladies, but started, turned,
gasped.
In an instant such a din had arisen as he would once have believed
could come only from the infernal regions.
From all four sides at once came the angry yells of thousands of men,
mingled with thousands of detonations. The crashing racket of
numberless gongs made the night still more hideous. The storm of noise
was ear-splitting, nerve-racking.
Believing the south wall to be the place most in danger, Dave rushed
across the compound in that direction.