Dave Darrin on the Asiatic Station. Or, Winning Lieutenants' Commissions on the Admiral's Flagship
TekstCHAPTER XI – A SURPRISE PARTY FOR THE GOVERNOR
“It’s Chinese war —real Chinese war!” roared Danny Grin in his chum’s ear, as he pointed down at the packed throng in the open beyond the compound. “The heathen are beating gongs, ringing cowbells, shooting off firecrackers and yelling like wild-cats – just as the Chinese did in battle a thousand years ago. They’re trying to scare us to death with their racket.”
“It’s awful to turn a machine gun loose on a tightly packed crowd like that,” shivered Dave, “but you’ve got to do it. Turn it loose, Dan, and keep it going. I leave you in charge at this point.”
Dave ran around the rampart to the western side. As he hastened he grinned at the Chinese idea that noise can play any big part in winning a battle. Yet even Darrin admitted that the din was abominable enough to shake the strongest nerves.
At the western wall he gave his orders, then rushed onward to the north wall, which included the main gate.
As he ran, he noted again a low, stone building which he had several times passed in the compound. The roof was not high, and suggested that it covered merely a cellar underneath.
Dan believed that, if the fanaticism of the approaching multitudes were to last a few minutes longer, the rabble would be able, despite the most desperate resistance by the Americans, to sweep up over the walls and massacre every white man and woman in the yamen.
“Why didn’t I think of that before?” Darrin asked himself, looking down at the low-arched stone building. “That must be the governor’s magazine. I wonder if it holds any ammunition?”
Descending at a run, Dave strode over to a place where, under a separate fringe of lighted lanterns, sat the governor of Nu-ping. At one side, eyes downcast, Sin Foo and “Burnt-face” sat.
“Mr. Sin Foo,” Dave began, “that is a magazine over there, isn’t it?”
Not glancing up, the under secretary addressed the governor in humble tones.
“Yes, it is a magazine,” answered the under secretary, at last.
“Is there any powder stored there?”
Again Sin Foo addressed the governor.
“His excellency is not certain whether there is powder there or not,” replied the interpreter.
“Hand me the key,” commanded Dave. “I will look for myself.”
At this there was more prolonged conversation between Sin Foo and his august though at present dejected chief.
“Hand me the key,” Ensign Darrin insisted brusquely, “or I shall take other measures.”
Only a few words passed in Chinese this time. Even that had to be shouted, for the clamor beyond the walls was indescribable, and the roar of machine guns and the rattle of navy rifles was all but deafening. Sin Foo, fumbling under his own long robes, produced a massive bronze key.
“Good enough,” said Dave, “provided this be the right key.” Then, turning to one of the sailors, who had come down into the compound on an errand Dave asked:
“You have an electric searchlight with you, haven’t you?”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Then come with me, on the jump.”
Both hastened over to the low building that Dave had imagined to be the magazine. The key fitted, the lock yielded easily. Officer and man stepped inside.
“Powder!” gasped the sailorman. “Looks like two hundred kegs of it here, sir.”
“Hand me the light and force open one of the barrels,” Dave directed.
In a few moments the head of one of the barrels had been sprung. Taking a handful of powder outside, Dave placed it on a sheet of paper from one of his pockets, and touched a lighted match to one corner of the paper. When the traveling flame reached the powder there was a bright flash, accompanied by a puff of smoke.
“That powder is excellent,” remarked Darrin.
“Aye, aye, sir,” assented the seaman. “Are you thinking, sir, of using any of this stuff to plant among the heathen outside?”
“Only in case they succeed in getting into the compound,” the young ensign replied, coolly. “I am going to ask the ladies if they prefer to group themselves around this building. Then, at the last moment, if all our forces are driven away from the ramparts, we can fall back on this magazine. When we see that the Chinese are bound to overwhelm us, a match dropped in a powder train here will save all of the women from Chinese torture. What do you think of the idea, Sampson?”
“All in the day’s work for men of the Navy, and the best thing, I reckon, sir, for the ladies under the circumstances,” answered the seaman.
“I believe that will be the general opinion,” answered Dave. “Sampson, you know how to stack this thing so that a flash of light in a powder train will set off the whole magazine?”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“May I leave you here and depend upon you to fix the mine so that it will go up in the air at my order?”
“You may, sir.”
“Thank you, Sampson,” replied Dave Darrin, gripping the sailor’s hand hard. “You’re the right shade of blue, and a real man of the Navy.”
“The same to yourself, sir, thank you,” rejoined Sampson, taking back his electric lamp and going inside the magazine.
Dave ran over to the spot where the women had gathered.
“Ladies,” he announced, gazing straight at each in turn, “I have an unpleasant announcement to make. From the look of things our men are presently going to be driven back from the ramparts. Then the yellow hordes will swarm over into this compound. If we are vanquished, have you any idea of the horrors of Chinese torture that will be inflicted upon you by the yellow fiends?”
Some of the older missionary women shuddered, turning their eyes heavenward, as though in agitated prayer.
“My wife is among you,” Dave went on, speaking as softly as he could and make himself heard above the din of combat. “What I am going to offer you is the best, under the circumstances, that I can wish for her. That is – at the instant when hope must be finally abandoned – instant death. In the magazine there is a heavy stock of powder. One of my men is now laying a powder train which, when touched off, will explode the magazine. In my opinion, when all hope has gone, the wisest thing for all of you is to be near enough to die in the big upheaval of the exploding magazine. Do you agree with me that this will be the best step to take when there is no other hope of escaping from the Chinese furies?”
“Under such circumstances I will trust you to know what is best to be done,” said Belle Darrin, resting a hand on her young husband’s arm.
“Come, then,” begged Dave. He led the way. By twos and threes the other women followed, though some of them faltered. The few men non-combatants removed the wounded to places near the magazine.
“Now,” commanded Dave, turning to the marine who had just brought up the quaking Pembroke, “leave your prisoner here, and you and Sampson go and bring the governor and his attendants here.”
When the governor and his little suite were brought to the magazine their faces betrayed unspeakable terror.
“May I ask what insane project is now being considered?” quaked Sin Foo.
“Certainly,” Dave answered blithely in his ear. “When all other hope is gone, my fighting men will fall back to this spot. When we are all together, and your countrymen are about to conquer, we intend touching off the train of powder that shall blow us all free from Chinese vengeance.”
Sin Foo turned several shades of frightened green, one after the other.
“Then you must liberate his excellency and his suite at once,” cried the under secretary, falling forward upon his knees. “You cannot, you have no right to risk the governor of Nu-ping in such a fearful tragedy. Order your men to turn us free at once, that we may pass out through the gate!”
“Oh, no!” Ensign Dave Darrin retorted, with ironical cheeriness. “Your governor and his advisers are wholly responsible for the awful position in which we found our countrymen. For that reason His Excellency the August Governor of Nu-ping shall have the post of honor. He shall sit on top of the magazine, his suite with him!”
At a sign from Dave the governor was swiftly seized and boosted up on to the top of the arching stone roof. It was the first time that his excellency had been handled with anything like roughness. After his excellency Sin Foo and “Burnt-face” were almost tossed up after him.
“Let us down!” screamed Sin Foo piteously. “This is inhuman. Kill yourselves if you will, but you have no right to destroy us with you.”
“If we go up in the air on the wave of a powder explosion, then your crowd goes, too,” Dave roared back at him. “You shall have ample taste of the cake you have stirred for us all!”
Though his excellency, the governor understood no English, he appeared to have only too clear an idea of what was now going on. Howling, and nearly collapsing with terror, he endeavored to slip down from the roof of the magazine, but ready American hands thrust him back.
Sin Foo, too, made desperate efforts to slip down. As for “Burnt-face,” that yellow scoundrel had fainted, and now lay prone on the roof.
“This outrage shall not be!” screamed Sin Foo.
“You’ll soon know all about that,” retorted Sampson gruffly, hurling the under secretary on his back on top of the magazine.
From the south rampart now came furious sounds of hand-to-hand conflict. Looking up, Dave Darrin saw that his own fighting men were all but surrounded by yellow fiends who had gained the rampart by means of ladders.
Pausing only a second to kiss his wife, Dave darted toward the nearest steps to that rampart, bounding up, sword in one hand, revolver in the other.
In the fleeting instant of turning after kissing his wife farewell, Darrin had shouted to Seaman Sampson:
“My man, I trust to your sand and judgment. Don’t wait for my order, but fire the magazine trail the instant you think it is the only course left.”
And after Dave had floated the sailor’s cool, resolute:
“Aye, aye, sir.”
CHAPTER XII – RISKING ALL ON ONE THROW
Just before Dave gained the parapet some of his sturdiest Jackies, by seizing a score of the yellow scoundrels and hurling them bodily over the wall on the heads of their countrymen below, had succeeded in clearing some elbow room in which to fight.
The machine gun at this point had ceased sputtering, for its server had been forced back in the rush.
Dave’s sword flew in straight up and down cuts as he hurled himself among the furies who fought to drive him back. Thrice he parried spear thrusts that otherwise would have spitted him.
Rallying around him the strongest of his fighting men, Ensign Darrin drove the yellow men back for an instant.
“Tune up the machine gun,” Dave bellowed. “We must rake this multitude again if we would have a single chance to win.”
By signs, since he could not make himself heard many yards away, Darrin passed the word down the line for sailors and marines to fill the magazines of their rifles and fire into the Chinese, who were making an effort to raise new ladders against the wall.
But Ensign Dave glancing along his thin, exhausted line to see if many of them were hurt, muttered to himself:
“The next rush ought to sweep us down into the compound. Then for the magazine, and – the Big Noise!”
“Mr. Darrin,” bawled a missionary from below, “your sailor, Sampson, ordered me to come to you to say that the governor is nearly dead with terror over his position. Sin Foo promises that if the governor be brought up here, his excellency will order and persuade the rabble to cease fighting and withdraw.”
“Do you believe that, at this late stage, the governor could influence these thousands of mad men?” Dave demanded.
“It is more than possible,” replied the missionary.
“Tell Sampson, if you please, to bring his excellency up here. If the governor makes one false move, back he goes to the top of the magazine, without any further chance to redeem himself from going up with the rest of us in the Big Noise. Please tell Sampson to rush the governor here.”
“And shall I come back, that I may know just what his excellency says to the rabble?” suggested the missionary, who, like most of the others of his band, spoke the language of China.
“Be sure to come back, if you please,” Dave begged.
Again swarms of ladders were rushed to the walls. Pigtailed heads were mixed with short-haired Chinese heads, for, though the republic desired all Chinamen to lop off the pigtails of the monarchial days, only a portion of the Chinese men have done so.
At times the swarms coming up the ladders pressed so close that sailors and marines fought them with the butts of their rifles and with fists, even. The superior athletic physique of the Anglo-Saxon bore up before the rushes of the Chinamen with seemingly tireless energy. Had the top of the rampart been broader the Chinese must have carried all before them, but in the narrowness of the top of the wall the sailors had the advantage.
Once more ladders had been tipped over, the last of the yellow men hurled to the ground below, and again the machine guns and the infantry rifles poured their shots into the thousands below.
Now up came Sampson, carrying in his arms a collapsed form that was the Governor of Nu-ping.
“Stand up, confound you!” adjured Seaman Sampson, planting the governor on his feet and seizing him by the collar. “Stand up!”
The greenness of the governor’s yellow face was more ghastly than ever. He shivered as a few stray shots whistled uncomfortably close to his ears.
The rays of four pocket electric lights were turned upon him by as many sailors equipped with these articles. His excellency stood in the spot light, a very sorry-looking object.
Soldiers and civil officials are chosen from two different classes in China. Often these civil officials, when put to the test, prove to be timorous indeed.
“Tell him to secure silence and make his speech,” Dave requested of the missionary.
His excellency’s arms waved like a spectre’s as he made gestures appealing for silence. Within thirty seconds the signs of his success with his own people began to appear.
Gradually motion stopped in the multitude. Some of the more lowly among the Chinese fighters, out beyond the thick of the rabble, even fell upon their knees.
The peril seemingly passed, the governor became steadier. He was a ruler speaking to obedient masses – or at least so it appeared.
Then, in a voice husky at first, but gradually gaining in strength, his excellency began to speak to his subjects, for such they really were. As his speech continued his voice became louder and more authoritative.
Dave glanced inquiringly at the missionary, who nodded back as much as to say that the governor was making a speech along right lines. Indeed, the speech must have had signal effect, for low murmurs ran in all directions through the lately fighting rabble, and by degrees the last efforts at fighting died out on all sides of the compound.
“As soon as the right moment comes,” whispered Dave, “please tell him to order all the people a mile away from this part of the city.”
In an undertone the missionary repeated in Chinese. Then, after a few moments, the movement backward began. A visible tremor of rearward motion passed through the throngs.
In silence the Chinese had heard the closing words of their governor, and now no crowd of thousands could have been more noiseless.
“Take his excellency below again,” Dave commanded Sampson. “He is too valuable an asset to lose just yet. Put him on top of the powder magazine. Our missionary friends will assure his excellency that he is in not the least danger unless the attack is begun again.”
Having seen these orders carried out, Ensign Darrin hurried back to the circle of lanterns.
“Ladies, I am glad to be able to say that I think our danger is nearly over,” he announced. “We have a few more wounded to bring down from the walls. After these men have had attention I think we shall be ready to take up the march to the river, and soon after that I believe that you will all be safe on board the ‘Castoga.’ Don’t rub your eyes or pinch yourselves to see if it all be true. I believe the bad dream is ended.”
Then Dave sought out Sin Foo and “Burnt-face.”
“Come with me to the governor,” he directed, for, while the speech from the rampart was being made, these two underlings had somehow managed to slip away from their perilous place on top of the magazine.
“You are not going to offer us violence, are you?” asked Sin Foo fearfully.
“Not unless you do something to merit it,” was Darrin’s response. “I have other uses in view for you.”
Securing the services of the same missionary, Dave directed him to ask the governor if he would trust Sin Foo and “Burnt-face” to go out into the city and carry to the people his excellency’s will that no attack be made upon the Americans when they started for the river front.
The governor replied that his two secretaries were the very ones to carry his orders to his people.
“So that fellow is a secretary to the governor, also?” asked Darrin, pointing to “Burnt-face.”
“He is the governor’s secretary,” replied the missionary. “Sin Foo is the under secretary, who, that he might deal with Englishmen and Americans, was educated in England.”
“Warn the governor that if his secretaries play him false, and we are attacked, then his excellency will surely lose his life,” Dave requested.
“His excellency is satisfied that his secretaries will serve him faithfully, and keep his life secure,” the missionary declared.
The governor himself spoke to “Burnt-face” and Sin Foo, after which both bowed low.
“Now, you two may turn yourselves out into the street,” Dave announced. “We will let you pass through the gates. See to it that you circulate well, and that you impress upon the people their governor’s wishes. Otherwise, his excellency will sail sky-high on a keg of powder – you may be sure of that!”
To Ensign Dave’s intense amazement, both “Burnt-face” and Sin Foo bowed very low before him. Next, they threw themselves upon their knees before the governor, who addressed them briefly, but earnestly.
When the secretaries rose Dave called a petty officer, to take them to the gate and to vouch for their right to pass out.
In the meantime the wounded were being attended. Nearly all of the unhurt defenders still remained upon the ramparts, though the great open spaces below were devoid of any signs of a hostile populace.
“I wonder if his excellency would like to change his shoes before starting,” Dave suggested to Bishop Whitlock, as he glanced down at the governor’s dainty embroidered silken footgear.
“Are you going to take the governor with us?” asked the Bishop.
“He must go with us to the river front, and must remain there until all of our party is safe,” Darrin answered.
“But you really mustn’t make him walk,” objected the Bishop. “If you did, it would be such an affront as the people of Nu-ping would never forgive in foreigners. There are several sedan chairs in the yamen, and there are still enough attendants left to bear it. Permit me, Mr. Darrin, to see to the matter of the governor’s sedan.”
“I shall be deeply grateful, sir, if you will,” was Dave’s answer.
In less than five minutes the chair was ready, resting on the shoulders of eight husky coolies.
Ten minutes later the gates were thrown open. The defenders, hastily recalled from the ramparts, had formed.
First in the line were the marines, with a machine gun. Then followed a detachment of sailors. Danny Grin took command of the advance guard. Behind this were the wounded, some of whom hobbled slowly and painfully, as there was no conveyance except for those who had been badly hurt.
After the wounded came the women, in a body, and, behind them, the governor in his sedan chair.
There followed the missionaries, armed and unarmed, and the other male American residents of Nu-ping. Finally marched the rest of the seamen with Pembroke as their prisoner, and Dave commanded at this point.
Outside all was now as still as though in a city of the dead.
Was it safe to risk the march, or were they soon to run into some villainous trap prepared by the ingenuity of the Chinese?
“Forward, march!” Ensign Darrin sent the order down the line.
CHAPTER XIII – ALL ABOUT A CERTAIN BAD MAN
Like a long-drawn-out snail the procession crept through the yamen gates. The pace was set by the men most severely wounded.
Was it safe to leave the yamen while multitudes were yet abroad in the city, and those multitudes angry over the shedding of Chinese blood?
How many Chinese had fallen in the fight Darrin had no means of estimating. He had seen many fall, but dead and wounded alike had been promptly carried away by their own countrymen.
That the city of Nu-ping was in a ferment of anger there could be no doubt. Yet the governor, who had professed that morning to be unable to stem the revolution, had, by a few words, sent the fighting throngs back in the dead of night.
Last of all in the line walked Dave, in as uncomfortable a frame of mind as he had ever known. If his little party should be attacked and overwhelmed, and the women killed, he had made up his mind that he would make no effort to outlive the disaster. Death would be preferable.
There was still one other who knew less of comfort than any in the procession. That one was His Excellency, the Governor of Nu-ping.
In the sedan chair had been placed six kegs of powder, one of them opened. On top of the kegs, without as much as a cushion to soften the hardness of the seat, was his excellency, squatting, terror-stricken.
On either side marched a sailor with a loaded rifle. Also beside the sedan marched Sailorman Sampson, with a package of loose powder and a piece of slow-match found at the yamen. Seaman Sampson had his orders, with a considerable amount of discretionary power added, all of which was known to the governor with the greenish-yellow face.
As the line swung into the street on the way to the river, Danny Grin and two seamen trod softly ahead, alert for any surprises that might be met, particularly at street corners.
Not a sound was heard from natives, however, save for the occasional groans of the greenish-yellow governor, who, at that moment, was more fully posted on the feeling of absolute terror than was any other man in China.
No move was made on the part of the natives to stop the progress of the Americans. The party soon reached the wharf at the river front.
Now, with the women out on the wharf, Dalzell hastily drew up new lines of defense, pointing cityward, while Dave, with flashlight and whistle, managed to attract attention from the deck of the “Castoga” and to flash the signal to the watch officer.
It seemed but the work of a minute to get the launch and two ship’s boats under way. The launch chugged busily shoreward. No time was wasted on explanations. The women and wounded were hurried into the boats and taken out to the gunboat.
On the next trip the rest of the party was speedily embarked.
As the last act, Sampson relaxed his watch over his excellency. Signs were made to the governor’s chair bearers to take their lord back to the yamen. Nor did the departure of the governor take any time at all.
“Well done, Darrin! Fine, Dalzell!” boomed the hearty voice of Lieutenant-Commander Tuthill as the two young officers stepped on the deck of the gunboat. “Every man under your command has behaved like an American!”
Then, as his eye roved to Pembroke, standing under marine guard, he asked:
“How came Mr. Pembroke to be in trouble?”
“Attempted treachery,” Darrin responded. “I caught him trying to open the yamen gate to the Chinese rebels.”
Tuthill’s brow darkened.
“Pembroke, I did not think that of you, sir. You have a heavy burden of guilt! You will be taken down to the brig and locked up until I can decide what is to be done in your case, sir.”
After Pembroke had been marched below, to go behind bars, the commander of the gunboat continued, in a low tone to Darrin:
“I am afraid not much of anything can be done with him. He is a British subject, I suppose, and guilty of an offense committed on Chinese soil. The most that I can do will be to keep him locked up until to-morrow, and then turn him loose. Perhaps the Chinese will take care of him. The ladies are waiting in the wardroom to thank Dalzell and yourself. You had both better go inside.”
“I’d rather face the Chinese again,” laughed Dan, “than have to stand and be thanked by a lot of women.”
An hour later the ladies were established for the night, several of the officers’ quarters having been given over to them. The American missionaries and civilians, like the sailors, were obliged to sleep in hammocks.
Just as Dave was seeking a mattress on the floor of the wardroom Surgeon Oliver hurried in. “Darrin,” began the medical man, “did you know that Pembroke was badly hurt?”
“By the blow I gave him on the head?” queried the young ensign, wheeling.
“No, though that was quite bad enough. A stray bullet hit the fellow in the side, and he bound it up as best he could. He tells me that the shot hit him before you struck him down – perhaps an hour earlier.”
“If I had known that,” murmured Darrin, “he would have had somewhat softer handling.”
“Pembroke is really in a bad way,” continued the surgeon. “I have had him removed from the brig to the sick-bay, and have put a hospital attendant on watch over him to-night.”
“Is he going to die?” asked Ensign Darrin.
“Can’t say; I think not. But what brought me here is the fact that Pembroke asked if he might see you.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Certainly.”
Dave was tired out. Danny Grin was already sound asleep on a mattress on the floor. Darrin had been yawning heavily, but now the call of humanity appealed to him.
“I’ll go with you, Doctor,” Dave added, and followed the surgeon.
In a bunk down in the sick bay Pembroke tossed uneasily, his face a bright red.
“Here is Mr. Darrin, Pembroke,” announced the medical officer.
“You’ll think I had a jolly large amount of nerve to send for you,” murmured the stricken man, holding out a hand. Under the circumstances Darrin did not hesitate to take the hand.
“Sit down, won’t you?” begged Pembroke, and Dave occupied a stool alongside.
“I felt that I ought to see you,” Pembroke went on. “Sawbones tells me I have plenty of chance to pull through, but I’m not so sure about that. If my carcass is to be heaved over in canvas, with a solid shot for weight, I want to go as clean as I can. So I want to tell you a few things about myself, Mr. Darrin. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I shall be glad to hear whatever you have to say to me,” Dave replied.
“You look jolly well tired out,” observed the stricken man, “so I won’t detain you long. To-night you accused me of being a scoundrel, and you had the goods on me. There can be no doubt about my being crooked, and I may as well admit it.”
“Then you are really Rogers, instead of Pembroke?” Dave asked.
“I’ve used both names, but neither belongs to me. I have had so many names in my day that I barely remember my right one, which I’m not going to tell you, anyway. I came of decent people, and some of them are left. I’m not going to disgrace them. Darrin, I expect that I’m going to die, and I’m going to try to do it like a man – the first manly thing I’ve done in years. If I wanted to live at all now, it would be that I might stand and take my punishment for my connection with this Nu-ping affair.”
“I don’t believe that you could be punished for that by Americans,” Dave went on. “You are a British subject, and your offense was committed on Chinese soil.”
“I’m about as English as you are,” returned Pembroke. “If I were a Britisher, and any good I’d been serving my country, right now, in France. I was born on the Atlantic seaboard of the United States. Out of decency I’m not going to name my birth state. At times, when it suited better, I’ve been an Englishman as a matter of convenience. But what I want to tell you about, especially, Darrin, is my connection with this Nu-ping business.”
“Did that connection begin back in Manila?” Darrin asked.
“In Nu-ping first, but there was a Manila end. It won’t take long to tell the story. I – ”
In an instant a deadly pallor appeared in the stricken man’s face. Then he lay silent.
“Doctor, I think Pembroke has gone,” said Dave quietly, as he stepped over to the surgeon who was bent over another cot.