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.