PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT
Phil and Sydney were on deck early in the morning. The fog had
continued during the afternoon and night, and Captain Bailey had
skilfully shaped the “Sylvia’s” course through the Formosa Channel. The
night had been uneventful; no vessel had been sighted. The Americans
continued their watches on deck, still distrusting a conspiracy between
Impey and his friends to get control of the yacht.
But one incident had marred the happiness of their miraculous escape
from the Japanese scouts. Takishima had been found in the wireless room
by O’Neil and Marley, attempting to wreck the plant, and before he had
been discovered and marched back docilely to his stateroom, he had
managed to put the wireless of the yacht temporarily out of commission.
With the able assistance of Randall, who was luckily a skilful
electrician and whose aid was enthusiastically given, the wireless
gear would soon again be in working order. The avenue of escape from
Takishima’s cabin through Impey’s was thereafter sealed by removing
Impey to a cabin at the other end of the saloon.
“We’re now off Hongkong,” Phil exclaimed as he saw the penciled
position on the chart. “In two days we shall be nearing Singapore, and
then for the success or failure of our plans.”
Sydney’s face beamed with pleasure, but a cloud crossed it as he
thought of poor, dejected, disappointed Takishima in his cabin below.
“I wish we might win Taki over,” he said charitably. “He takes defeat
so bitterly.”
Phil remained silently thoughtful.
“I believe I see the way,” he replied after a lapse of a few minutes.
“When he sees that his fleet has failed and that there is no chance for
our seizure, then he may be more amenable to common sense. The Japanese
fighting class represented now in the army and navy, the Samurai of
old, have a very lofty sense of honor. Taki would without a personal
thought sink or blow up this vessel if he believed by so doing he
could aid his government in its plans. That is why it was necessary
to constrain him. If we had not discovered him in the wireless room
yesterday just after the fog shut down, the thing upon which our plan
principally depends would have been wrecked beyond repair; for during
only a few minutes his destructive work was marvelous, and he knew the
most important things to destroy. Fortunately there were spare parts in
the storeroom and Randall, who seems to be an all around handy man, is
doing wonders to repair the damage. Hereafter Taki must be watched more
closely.
“From now on we must keep a watch on Impey, too,” Phil continued, a
happy smile on his face. “He asked me only a moment ago if I thought we
could call up Manila yet. He counts on our wirelessing the admiral and
expects he will sail at once to an appointed rendezvous, and that we
will then intercept the Chinese ships and lead them to this rendezvous.
He asked me if that was not my plan. When he knows our real intention
he will be mad enough to attempt anything.”
“And what did you say?” Sydney asked, catching Phil’s joyful spirit.
“I said how clever he was to have guessed it; and then added I hoped we
should have the wireless working very soon.”
The day passed pleasantly enough on board the yacht; the fog had
cleared away, eaten up by the sun, long before noon. A few curls of
smoke had been sighted, but no vessel crossed their track close enough
to show even the top of its funnel.
O’Neil and Marley had formed a strong liking for Randall, who had shown
himself willing to atone for past misdeeds.
“You see, O’Neil,” he had exclaimed in the strictest confidence while
they were both working to repair the damage caused by Takishima’s few
minutes of liberty, “when a fellow gets down on his luck in a foreign
country, his sense of right and wrong suffers a blight. He can’t
recognize the difference until it’s pointed out to him. I thought it
was fine to vilify my country and countrymen, baiting the Japanese
bull, as it were. I got good pay for it, and it all went home to my
mother.” Here he lowered his voice, and a wistful look came into his
eyes. “She didn’t know that the money was tainted, and besides,” he
added softly, “there wasn’t any money coming from anywhere else, and
she was very much in need of it.”
O’Neil put out a strong, honest hand and placed it on Randall’s
shoulder.
“It ain’t for the likes of me to blame you, son,” he said, an
imperceptible trace of moisture in his eye that made him wink. “I don’t
say you didn’t do wrong, for you did, and you knew it, but when a man
is sorry and honestly says so, and besides has a lonely mother to take
care of, then I’m for saying no more about it.”
Randall derived no small comfort from the sailor’s words.
“By the way,” the boatswain’s mate suddenly asked, “where’s that
Filipino who nearly caused a free fight in the theatre?”
Randall grinned.
“Turned up missing the night we sailed,” he replied. “I think he swam
ashore. There was some talk of going to Manila, and I believe he’s
wanted there by the government for some crime, an outlaw probably; he
looks the part.”
“Who instigated the theatre row?” O’Neil asked.
“Our chief, Impey. That man can do anything he tries to do,” Randall
began, when O’Neil interrupted.
“Anything deceitful and underhanded, you mean,” the sailor exclaimed,
with fire in his eyes. “I’d give a month’s pay to be allowed to
throttle him.”
“There, that’s finished,” Randall exclaimed as he rose from the tuning
device. He put on the head-gear and listened earnestly, moving the
pointer back and forward in an endeavor to detect something which
would tell him that the receiving circuit was complete. He pushed
the buzzer with his finger and remained silent for several minutes
afterward. “Just a faint tinkle,” he said finally. “Some one’s talking
in Hongkong, probably, but it’s too faint to read.”
O’Neil went to report that all was in shape, while Randall locked up
the room and put the key in his pocket.
The “Sylvia” was now near the latitude of Manila, and the lads and
O’Neil could hardly resist the temptation to call up the admiral’s
ship. Impey hung about them all evening, frequently asking them when
they intended giving the admiral a report on the condition of affairs,
for at midnight Manila would be only two hundred and fifty miles to the
eastward, well within the sending range of the “Sylvia’s” wireless. But
the lads would not enlighten him, and at last he became desperate.
“I might as well inform you now as any time,” Phil exclaimed after many
appeals, “that I am not going to tell the admiral until the Chinese
squadron is anchored where neither nation can find it.”
Impey could not believe his ears. Had the lad gone mad? What was his
meaning?
“The Chinese squadron,” Phil added, “is going to sink metaphorically
into the earth until all misunderstandings are over, and then like the
Phœnix it will rise from its ashes and go to China, where it belongs.”
“But China doesn’t want it. She fears it on account of the internal
disorders, and is anxious to be rid of the ships and their cost,” Impey
exclaimed.
“Well, she’ll have to keep it until she can find some one anxious
to buy,” Phil replied, tantalizingly calm despite the nervous
irritability of his listener. “The United States doesn’t really want
it, and Japan doesn’t, either; so why force a sale on a nation that is
unwilling to buy?”
Impey threw up his hands in angry disgust.
“Do you mean that you have gone back on your compact with me?” he cried
in much heat. “After taking my yacht, offered you for this purpose?”
“Mr. Impey,” Phil answered calmly, “I have made you no promise. There
is no agreement between you and me; there could be none. You offered
the yacht; you outlined a plan. I listened only. On the other hand,”
he added, his voice rising in his earnestness, “you promised that you
would not interfere with my plans, and you have broken your word.
Remember there is a key to your cabin, and as I said before, Marley can
look out for two prisoners as readily as one.”
The spy saw that it would only do himself harm to follow further his
quarrel with Phil. The lad was obdurate. Impey saw all his work in
Japan, stretching over a year, going for naught. It was bitter to
contemplate the result, but there seemed no visible relief.
The two days following were entirely uneventful. As Singapore was
approached a feeling of dread came over both lads. Suppose, after
all, the Chinese squadron should evade them. The “Sylvia” had been
unsuccessful in its attempts to talk with them by wireless.
“If their wireless gear is working, they won’t answer,” O’Neil told
Phil the evening of the fifth day out, while they were approaching
Singapore Straits.
It was just breaking day when the white clustered buildings of the city
of Singapore loomed up out of the tropical darkness. As day slowly drew
on, the vast shipping in the harbor took shape. The lads and O’Neil
eagerly watched while the harbor, like a bud opening to the sun, became
slowly revealed to their eager eyes.
“There’s not a man-of-war there!” Phil exclaimed in keen
disappointment. “What had we best do--wait here, or intercept them
farther down the Straits of Malacca?”
“Excuse me, sir, for making a suggestion,” O’Neil said quietly in
Phil’s ear. “I think Mr. Impey would be safer locked up. I don’t like
his actions. He approached both Randall and Wells in a roundabout way
to sound them out if they’d help him, and he’s been very thick with the
dago engineer. It ain’t hard to get a hot bearing on these turbines, I
hear. Stop the oil flow and it burns up in five minutes.”
Phil did not hesitate in his decision a moment. He had been awaiting
only a corroboration of his own belief as to what should be done with
Impey. A disablement at this time would be disastrous. The Chinese
squadron might be delayed some days, and meanwhile Japan’s port scouts
might appear at any time. Phil had more than feared that they might
already be on the scene, awaiting in the straits.
“Will you attend to it, O’Neil,” Phil said at once, “and look into the
engineer’s intentions, too?”
Phil held O’Neil in high regard for his ability in handling men. He
would soon find out if the engineer were worthy of trust, and if not,
O’Neil had a way of intimidation that seemed to take with the rascals
he encountered.
The “Sylvia” sped by Singapore and out into the Straits of Malacca. The
Americans were eating their noon meal when the joyful news was received
that the Chinese squadron was in sight ahead.
The midshipmen, as they stood on the bridge of the yacht, gazing
in admiration at these mighty fortresses with their small watchdog
destroyers hovering solicitously near, could not repress a thrill of
wonder and relief; wonder at their majesty and power, and relief that
this priceless prize was not to be the cause of a useless struggle at
arms by two friendly nations.
The “Sylvia” approached the Chinese squadron at an incredible speed,
and it was only a short time after the Americans had reached the deck
before the yacht had gone by the squadron whose dragon flags waved
proudly in the bright tropical sunshine, and had turned and glided up
to the side of the leading ship.
Signals by the international code had been exchanged, and the Chinese
flag-ships had stopped to communicate with the yacht.
A boat was quickly lowered from the “Sylvia” and lay manned at the
gangway.
Phil, before entering the boat, went to Takishima’s cabin. He told the
crestfallen lieutenant his entire plan and appealed to his fairness to
join him and Sydney in this humane enterprise. But Takishima remained
unshaken.
“Perry,” he exclaimed earnestly, “my father is a Samurai, and if he had
failed as I have, he would have committed hara-kiri ere this; but the
modern spirit has made me a coward. Three times I have taken my short
dagger to end my worthless life, but each time I have tricked myself
into believing that yet I might serve my Emperor. Now all hope is over.”
Phil showed a grave face as he heard these solemn words, and before
Takishima could read his intentions had snatched up the sharp dirk from
the bunk.
“You must leave me my honor,” his old classmate cried, reaching out
appealingly for his dagger, which Phil had quickly passed to the
faithful Marley outside.
Phil was in a fever of dread lest the super-sensitive Japanese should
put an end to his life, and asked O’Neil to guard him, and then
entering the waiting boat he, Sydney and Impey were soon on their way
to visit Admiral Ting, the Chinese commander of the squadron. Impey had
been released and taken along, for Phil believed that there might be
some question raised in regard to the authenticity of the letter from
the Wai-Wu-Pu.
They were cordially received at the gangway of the flag-ship by Admiral
Ting himself, and escorted to his cabin.
Phil promptly handed him the letter from the Wai-Wu-Pu and as he read
in silence, the midshipmen were prepared to see a look of surprised
annoyance on his face.
“I knew when we sailed from Suez that my ships were for sale,” he said
bitterly, raising his eyes from the letter, “and if China cannot retain
these magnificent ships, you will believe me sincere when I say that
I am glad that America will own them.” Admiral Ting spoke in perfect
English. “There seems nothing for me to do but obey this order. It
is from the highest authority of my country and commands me to place
myself immediately upon its receipt under the protection of the
Americans.”
Impey’s presence had been quite overlooked by the midshipmen. The
document was not challenged. There had been therefore no reason to have
brought him. How much simpler and certainly with less annoyance if he
had been sent to the “Alaska” as he had desired. Now the midshipmen
were to seriously regret their blunder.
“Admiral Ting, will you also read this letter?” Impey said, his voice
triumphant, while he glared at the discomfited lads, for they at once
saw the documents were identical in appearance.
Admiral Ting received the second letter and the surprise the lads had
looked for now was only too evident in his face as he read its contents.
“What does this mean? This commands me to place myself under the
protection of the Japanese,” he exclaimed, much mystified.
The midshipmen were dumbfounded. A silence had fallen and each looked
to the other for an explanation, but none was forthcoming.
“I have another letter,” Phil said in a hopeless voice. “Our
ambassador gave it to me before we sailed from Japan. It’s from your
ambassador there.”
Admiral Ting broke the seal and read.
“But this cannot be called an order,” he said quietly. “It is only
advice from an old and trusted friend. He advises me to put myself
under the protection of the American fleet in Manila until Japan and
the United States can adjust their differences. Unhappily my country is
now harassed by a threatened civil war, and the Peking government fears
that those opposing the dynasty may seize my ships. They little know
our loyalty,” he added with tears in his eyes. “They do not trust us.”
Phil felt the success of his plans was fast slipping away. Impey
appeared jubilant.
“That is what I would advise, admiral,” Impey said in an oily voice.
“The American admiral will be glad to protect you.”
Phil was hot and cold in turns. To go now to Manila with the ships
might mean war, and also there was strong probability of their falling
into the hands of the Japanese fleet on the way.