He knew that the landing party was but small, and if they had fallen into an ambuscade all of them might be murdered; but knowing how unblushingly the Chinese can pervert the truth, he made up his mind to await further developments. Sending the messenger back with a polite intimation, that if the expedition did not return within eight-and-forty hours he would fire upon the town, he devoted his energies to instructing the boys how to act in case the party were lost, and in training his guns upon prominent buildings, the ship being moored broadside on to the place. During the day they buried the dead, and eight bodies were conveyed to a small island near the entrance of the bay, and decently interred.
When night set in Beauman became restless, and began to think there was some truth in the story brought off from the shore. "Sixty hours away from the ship, and no sign of them yet. Poor fellows! they have been captured and put to death."
CHAPTER XII.
We will now return to Puffeigh and his party, whom we left upon the march towards the joss-house.
Along canal banks, over paddy fields, across bridges, by villages, whose inhabitants would run out, hoot and spit at the foreign devils, and vapour about what they would do were they only able; past private residences surrounded by every accessory known to a luxurious people; skirting walled towns and small cities, they wended their way without stop or rest. Now and then their course lay through orchards, or fields skirted with lychee trees, but no one was allowed to break off a branch, although the commander knew that a few bunches of the fruit would have been a boon to his men. The sedan bearers trotted on with Puffeigh; and as the latter considered that his men ought to walk as well as the Chinese did, it never once entered his mind to order a halt until night surprised them as they were entering a village.
"What is this place called?" demanded the skipper.
"Hong-soo."
"March to the joss-house!"