CHAPTER XXI
THE JAPANESE FLEET
PHIL held a conference with Captain Bailey, and much against that mariner’s idea of caution, the “Sylvia’s” bow was turned farther to the westward.
“You’re taking big chances,” the captain of the yacht volunteered, “but that’s not my affair. I’ve my orders from Mr. Impey to go where you tell me.”
Impey had not failed to notice the change of course, and very soon afterward approached Phil as he came aft from the bridge, meanwhile having consulted Captain Bailey and seen the course laid down on the chart.
“You are losing valuable time,” he exclaimed peevishly. “You should get in communication with Manila as soon as possible.”
Phil shrugged his shoulders provokingly, while Impey flushed, his eyes flashing in his annoyance.
“Mr. Impey, remember your word given us not to interfere with the movements of this yacht,” the midshipman replied coldly. “There are other staterooms below capable of being locked, and Marley can attend to two gentlemen under restraint as easily as one.”
Impey saw the fruitlessness of further argument and subsided with not very good grace.
After supper that evening the fog cleared away and a breeze sprang up from the northward. The yacht kept up its rapid pace and the midshipmen decided that a watch should be kept by one of them at all times in order to see that nothing was done either to change the course or run the yacht into unnecessary danger. O’Neil was called and the plan of watches was told him, Marley continuing upon his duty of guarding Lieutenant Takishima.
“We must keep our eyes open for the Japanese ships,” Phil explained, “and yet not get too close to them. We are running without lights and should see them sooner than they will us, for they are not expecting us, while we are seeking them. They know that we have eluded the destroyer sent after us, but not knowing the high speed of the yacht, probably think that we are much to the northward and eastward.
“O’Neil, you take the watch until twelve o’clock. The compass course set is S. by W. I don’t trust Impey’s influence over Captain Bailey; so watch the steering. If anything is sighted call us all at once,” he said, turning to the boatswain’s mate.
“Can we depend upon these men, Wells and Randall, in case of an attempt by Impey to regain the control of the yacht?” Phil added questioningly.
“They ain’t very strong on Impey just now,” the boatswain’s mate replied. “I told them of his intention of getting asylum on the ‘Alaska’ and they felt sore to think he would have left them here to be pinched by the Japanese, which would have happened certain enough if it hadn’t been that we broke away before they could stop us. All the same, sir, I didn’t give either of them a gun, and I’ve collected all the loose firearms in the ship, and have ’em locked up tight.”
“We’ll watch them,” Phil said decidedly. “There’ll be lots they won’t approve of before we are through with this adventure.”
All three listened eagerly, for they saw in Phil’s face that he was about to unfold his plan.
“There’s a bay in the northwest coast of Paragua Island,” he continued. “If we can pilot the Chinese ships safely in there and anchor them we can hold the attention of the world on us without their knowing where on earth we are.
“I don’t know how long it will be necessary to keep the location of the ships secret,” he added. “That will depend upon the persuasive powers of Ambassador Tillotson and Captain Rodgers, armed with the President’s letter, which I feel sure is the key that will unlock the door of this misunderstanding.”
Sydney regarded his companion admiringly.
“I guessed as much,” he cried joyfully, “when you were interrupted by the sight of the steamer a short time ago. Phil, you are a schemer. It’s the very thing; if it will only be possible,” he added as the risks which must be taken first crossed his mind. He remembered this bay. It was large enough inside to anchor a fleet of battle-ships.
O’Neil quietly nodded his head—silent eloquence which meant much from the sailor. Marley opened his mouth wider, as if by so doing the complications might more readily be heard and elucidated.
“Of course if we find the Japanese vessels are farther south than it seems safe for them to be, then we cannot run this risk, and must wire Manila,” Phil explained earnestly.
The night slipped by quietly. The sea, stirred to life by the gentle trade wind, caused the yacht to roll easily but did not lessen her speed.
“In weather like this she’s as fast as a Cunarder,” Phil exclaimed to Sydney, as they prepared to go below to their cabins.
The next morning Phil was awakened by a loud knock on his door and O’Neil’s excited face appeared at the threshold.
“They’re somewhere about.” The boatswain’s mate imparted his information hurriedly. “I’ve been trying to tune down to them on the wireless all morning, since four o’clock, and I’ve just found ’em.”
“Where are they—near?” Phil asked anxiously, jumping out of his bunk and hastily dressing.
“I can’t say to that, sir, but if they are only talking to each other they are not far away. If they are talking to some one at a distance, they may not be near us at all.” O’Neil closed the door after delivering himself of his message, to return to the wireless room, while Phil finished dressing and was soon on deck.
The air was balmy and warm, while myriads of flying fish could be seen sailing gracefully over the swelling sea in their mad haste to escape from this hurrying monster.
“Ah! there you are,” Sydney called from the bridge, spy-glass in hand.
Phil hurriedly joined him.
“There appears to be a big bank of smoke over there,” he exclaimed, pointing to the western horizon, “and a curl of smoke on our starboard bow.”
Phil took the glass and gazed eagerly for several minutes in both directions.
“That’s a scout,” he said confidently, “and if it is, the fleet is where the other smoke is. I wish I dared go over and investigate,” he added, “but we’d be between them and might fall into a trap.”
Sydney nodded his head.
“Look,” he exclaimed, catching Phil’s arm. “I can see a lot of columns of smoke there.”
Sure enough, the strangers were firing up their boilers. Small black balls of inky smoke seemed to roll up above the horizon to the westward and spread out in mushroom shape above, joined by tiny, hardly discernible stems.
“There are at least twenty-five ships there if there’s one,” Sydney cried, relieving Phil of the spy-glass and looking himself long and eagerly. “It’s pretty nearly the whole Japanese fleet.”
The curl of smoke ahead became more distinct as the yacht overhauled it through her greater speed.
“There’s more smoke on the port bow,” Captain Bailey announced nervously. He did not seem to be happy in the position of his vessel. “The two vessels seem to be drawing in toward each other, too,” he added, taking bearings over the deck compass. “It doesn’t look good to me.”
“THERE ARE AT LEAST
TWENTY-FIVE SHIPS”
Phil’s pulse beat faster. He saw that the two vessels, undoubtedly scouts sent ahead of the main fleet, were not over eight miles apart. To go in between them meant that they would pass with the yacht within range of their largest guns. A lucky shot through the engines or boilers of the “Sylvia” would spoil everything.
“I think it wiser to keep away, sir,” O’Neil said respectfully but earnestly. The sailor was standing at the lad’s elbow, his strong face showing marked anxiety. It was plain to see that the boatswain’s mate believed that Phil was being too rash.
Phil once more carefully scanned the horizon ahead to make sure that there were no other than the two sail already sighted which he had made up his mind were scouts ahead of the main fleet.
“Bring the western vessel on the port bow, captain,” he ordered quietly. “You’re right, O’Neil, it’s a dangerous game to be too rash. If those are real scouts, they’re good for twenty-five knots, and can catch us easily. They have probably already seen our smoke.”
“Why not turn to the eastward and run for it?” Sydney suggested anxiously.
Phil did not answer; he was examining the chart, laying the parallel rulers between the “Sylvia’s” plotted position and Hongkong. He carried it to the compass card printed on the chart and read the course—S. W. from their present position to Hongkong.
“Let her go S. W. magnetic, captain,” he ordered calmly. “That will bring us up to the north cape of Formosa, and then we’ll run down close to the China coast and get smoother water.”
“What is this idiotic proceeding!” The exclamation in Impey’s voice, now choked with passion and fear, made the midshipmen turn apprehensively. “You’ll have us all killed. Turn her out to sea and let’s get out of this as soon as possible,” he cried in alarmed earnestness, throwing the timid Chinaman from the wheel and attempting to put the wheel hard over to run out to the eastward.
O’Neil’s hand held the spokes rigidly, while he looked appealingly for orders to forcibly eject the intruder.
“Hold her steady, Captain Bailey,” Phil ordered decidedly. “Mr. Impey,” he added calmly, “I hope you won’t make it necessary for us to use force to restrain you on your own yacht. My mind is made up, and even if we are to be captured, I’m determined to carry the plan out to the end.
“Slow to twelve knots, Captain Bailey,” Phil commanded quietly. “We must endeavor to appear to be only what we resemble, an English gunboat bound for Hongkong. Our twenty-two knots speed might excite suspicion.”
“It’s suicidal!” Impey exclaimed. “Can’t you see that if that is the Japanese fleet, it will send a ship to look us over, and when it comes near enough the deception must be discovered.”
Impey’s words struck both Sydney and O’Neil as being quite sensible. They looked to Phil to see the effect upon him of Impey’s words, but the lad appeared outwardly unmoved.
“If we should turn away now,” Phil said stolidly, “we would arouse their suspicion and would be chased, and if those vessels on the bow are twenty-five knot cruiser battle-ships or scout cruisers we would be soon overtaken. If we hold our course between the two scouts and the main body of the fleet, and allay suspicion by using our wireless, maybe the Japanese will not believe it necessary to pay us a closer visit.”
Phil’s companions were deep in thought, weighing the plausibility of the two plans, while Phil continued to gaze to the westward through the yacht captain’s binoculars.
“That’s a bank of fog over there, captain, isn’t it?” he asked calmly, for he had taken this into account when he had altered the course.
Captain Bailey looked long and earnestly, finally nodding his head.
“The Formosa Channel is usually thick,” he replied. “There’s fog there not fifteen miles away, and thick, too.”
“Mr. Perry’s got the right dope,” O’Neil exclaimed in admiration. “Shall I go down, sir, and call them up by wireless?” he asked Phil.
Phil nodded, handing the glasses to Sydney, who also studied the distant fog bank.
“Yes, O’Neil. Remember this time we are the British gunboat ‘Barracouta’ from a cruise bound for Hongkong.”
One of the two scouts appeared to have stopped. Its masts and the top of its smoke-stacks lifted slowly above the horizon, while the other’s smoke gradually dissolved and disappeared. The fleet was soon all in sight, as yet nearly fifteen miles away, but the lofty spars, smoke-stacks and turrets were visible in the field of the high power spy-glass.
The midshipmen’s blood flowed quickly through their young veins as they looked upon this martial display. As the yacht’s course crossed the track of the oncoming fleet, the grim battle-ships could be distinguished to be steaming in two long columns; the dots of black hovering near the fleet the lads knew could be nothing else but the guarding destroyers. The cruiser to the southward appeared motionless, apparently undecided what to do, while the other scout had kept its course and soon passed beyond the horizon.
Marley came hurriedly on deck with a paper which he placed in Phil’s hand.
“What ship is that, and where are you bound?” he read in O’Neil’s handwriting.
A few moments afterward another was brought forward by the sailor.
“Steer close to me; I wish to communicate,” Phil read with sinking heart. He passed the paper to Sydney to read. Impey’s alert eye read the quick look of anxiety in the midshipmen’s faces.
“Your blood’s on your own heads,” he cried out angrily, and then suddenly left the deck. Into his thoughts had come a plan that might save his precious neck.
The lads were terribly cast down by this half-expected order from the Japanese scout. Phil had hoped that his ruse would avail and that the scout would be satisfied after a survey at long range that the stranger was only a cruising British gunboat, and would then go on its way to the southward. The Japanese, even if they had heard of the escape of the yacht, would hardly expect that it could have steamed to such a distance south in such a short time.
Then an unpleasant thought upset all this reasoning. The destroyer which had chased and caught them only to be eluded in the fog must have discovered that the “Sylvia’s” speed was greater than that of an ordinary yacht. At what distance would their disguise be discovered and the true character of the vessel be seen?
After Impey had left the bridge he went at once to his cabin and locked the door; then taking a key from a drawer in his desk, he unlocked another door leading into the next stateroom, and entered.
“Lieutenant,” he whispered, thoroughly frightened at the contemplation of what would become of him if he were captured, “the yacht is certain to fall into the hands of your fleet. It is now in sight, and a scout or armored cruiser has ordered us to approach. She will soon discover our real identity.”
Takishima’s dejected countenance broke into a smile of great relief, but Impey was too impatient to allow him to dwell long upon this happy ending, to his keen disappointment and failure.
“Your fleet cannot obtain the Chinese ships! That was possible only by intercepting them before they arrived at Singapore. The Chinese admiral’s orders were to wait at Singapore, and under no circumstances to issue forth without an order from the Wai-Wu-Pu. Your admiral cannot seize the ships in a neutral British port. England would not allow it.”
Takishima gazed earnestly at the anxious man. He saw that he was in an agony of terror.
“If you will promise to allow me to land safely at Singapore,” Impey continued, “I will guarantee that the Chinese ships receive orders to sail. The Japanese fleet can then intercept the squadron after it has passed through the Singapore Straits into the China Sea.”
“And if I do not make this promise,” Takishima asked eagerly, “the Chinese ships will remain at anchor in Singapore?”
“The Chinese squadron is due in Singapore in three days,” Impey explained anxiously. “To-day is the 16th; that will be the 19th. It is nearly fourteen hundred miles. Your fleet will need over four days to arrive there. Meanwhile the destination of the Japanese fleet must become known, and America will order her fleet in Manila Bay to proceed to Singapore. Once there, the exchange can be made even in a neutral port, because China has given her consent, which she refused to give to Japan.”
Takishima was puzzled. Would Captain Inaba have set forth with so little chance of success?
“I cannot make a promise until I am sure you will be true to your word,” the lieutenant said coldly. “How may we be sure that you can persuade the Chinese admiral to sail?”
“I have prepared myself for just such an emergency,” Impey replied, proud of his duplicity even in his anxiety over his predicament. He drew out from his inner pocket a large envelope, a duplicate of the one he had given Phil. “Here is an order from the Wai-Wu-Pu to the Chinese admiral to turn his ships over to the Japanese fleet.”
Takishima stretched out his hand eagerly, for he recognized distinctly the great yellow seal of the Dragon Kingdom, but Impey backed away, the document clutched tightly in his hand.
“Your promise first; the word of a Samurai,” he cried earnestly, “and the paper is yours.”
Before Takishima could reply a shiver passed through the frail vessel, and both men saw at once that the engines, which had been only turning over slowly, had suddenly been set to full speed. Impey, forgetting the promise he had been so anxious to obtain from the Japanese naval officer, suddenly hastened to the deck, and gazed about him. His eyes encountered a wall of fog into which the yacht had entered. Off on the port bow he heard a deep throated whistle, apparently from the scout cruiser. His pulse beat high at this sudden and joyful deliverance. He forgot the young Japanese and the duplicate letter to the Chinese admiral.