A United States Midshipman in ChinaStirling, Yates
General
A United States Midshipman in China
Stirling, Yates
China -- Juvenile fiction; United States. Navy -- Juvenile fiction
“I’ve seen a great number of these threatened uprisings,” replied
Langdon thoughtfully, “come to nothing for the want of a leader with
energy enough to keep alive the spark of fanaticism; I hope this one
will follow in their footsteps, for if the Chinese ever awaken to the
knowledge of their power, our small force of ships and men could never
stem the rising flood.
“Do you see the forts over yonder?” he continued, pointing to the
numerous heavy gun emplacements on the heights below the city; “those
batteries command the anchorage occupied by the allied fleet, and their
garrisons are now wavering between their loyalty to the government
at Peking, and their families and friends taking an active part in
the intrigues against the lives of the foreigners. If those guns were
turned against us, our position here would indeed be a serious one.”
The two midshipmen, listening to the words of one who had lived ten
years among the Chinese, felt their hearts beat faster: secretly they
were glad that their cruise in the Orient was likely to be fraught
with grave dangers.
The missionaries and their numerous Chinese converts inside the walled
mission were once more at ease; they believed that all danger was past:
the Chinese had never attacked a mission so strongly defended by the
rifles of the hated but much feared foreign sailors.
The hot day came to an end, and the night wind from the distant
mountains brought to the anxious ones a desire for sleep which they had
not felt for days.
Phil and Sydney lay awake long after the mission was wrapt in slumber.
They had talked over the situation very thoroughly, the views of
Langdon having made a deep impression on their minds. There certainly
was a danger! Could the Chinese troops be depended upon to withstand
the bribes of the lawless ones?
Sydney’s even breathing, at last, showing that he had fallen off
to sleep, cut short further conversation between them; while Phil,
casting an annoyed glance at the unconcerned sleeper on the adjoining
cot, arose and silently left the tent; he was far from asleep and,
being the officer of the guard for the night, determined to make an
inspection of the sentries.
The night was dark save for the dim light shed by the crescent moon low
in the western sky. Ascending the mission stairs, he stepped out on the
broad top of the high barrier of brick and mortar and walked down the
wall. A sentry was posted at the near corner of the quadrangle.
“Is everything all right?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, sir, but I seen a bunch of Chinese up there near the gate a few
minutes before you come,” the sailor made answer. “I hollered at ’em,
and they ain’t stopped runnin’ yet.”
“What can I do if they don’t run?” he added, questioningly.
“Nothing; just call the sergeant of the guard,” replied Phil quickly.
“On your life don’t shoot without orders.”
“If a Chink shoots at me, sir, can’t I fire back?” the sailor asked,
casting an apprehensive glance into the darkness outside of the
compound.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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