A United States Midshipman in ChinaStirling, Yates
General
A United States Midshipman in China
Stirling, Yates
China -- Juvenile fiction; United States. Navy -- Juvenile fiction
Langdon and Sydney had so forcibly driven their enemy to the ground
that one of the revolvers, which was cocked, had gone off, the noise
of the discharge reverberating through the bare building in a most
startling way. Intent upon their work, the pilot had seized the wrists
of the foreign captain in an iron grip, while Sydney quickly disarmed
him.
Phil’s heart stopped beating at the sight which presented itself as the
door swung wide open. By the light of three or four dripping candles,
he saw a dozen Chinamen seated about the floor of the room.
As the lad forced his way boldly into the midst of the startled
Chinamen, holding before him a revolver taken from Sydney’s hand in
passing, the surprised Orientals threw themselves face downward upon
the floor, whining piteously for mercy.
Leaving the disarmed foreigner to Sydney, Langdon quickly joined
the other midshipman, surrounded as he was by the cringing and
terror-stricken natives.
“Canton Chinamen,” he whispered; “these must be Emmons’ launch crews;
but what are they doing here?”
Langdon raised his voice, addressing the terrified men. At the sound of
their own tongue a Chinaman raised himself tremblingly from the floor,
his fear giving place to joy as he recognized the familiar voice of the
pilot, whom he had so frequently seen piloting ships on the great river.
After a few minutes’ conversation with the native Langdon turned to
Phil, drawing the lad out of ear-shot of their helpless enemy lying
upon the floor with Sydney’s muscular weight upon his chest.
“It looks bad for us!” he exclaimed. “This man, Nam-Sing, is one of
Emmons’ head men, and these men are his crew. A mob this afternoon
looted the foreign concession and destroyed all of Emmons’ launches,
butchering the Canton Chinese crews in cold blood. The foreign
gunboats, he says, looked on and would not interfere. Emmons, he
thinks, was killed. These men took refuge in the secret vaults of the
bank, known by Nam-Sing because he was for some years employed here.
Believing that all was quiet, they were trying to muster up courage to
escape down the river.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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