Last of all in the line walked Dave, in as uncomfortable a frame of mind as he had ever known. If his little party should be attacked and overwhelmed, and the women killed, he had made up his mind that he would make no effort to outlive the disaster. Death would be preferable.
There was still one other who knew less of comfort than any in the procession. That one was His Excellency, the Governor of Nu-ping.
In the sedan chair had been placed six kegs of powder, one of them opened. On top of the kegs, without as much as a cushion to soften the hardness of the seat, was his excellency, squatting, terror-stricken.
On either side marched a sailor with a loaded rifle. Also beside the sedan marched Sailorman Sampson, with a package of loose powder and a piece of slow-match found at the yamen. Seaman Sampson had his orders, with a considerable amount of discretionary power added, all of which was known to the governor with the greenish-yellow face.
As the line swung into the street on the way to the river, Danny Grin and two seamen trod softly ahead, alert for any surprises that might be met, particularly at street corners.
Not a sound was heard from natives, however, save for the occasional groans of the greenish-yellow governor, who, at that moment, was more fully posted on the feeling of absolute terror than was any other man in China.
No move was made on the part of the natives to stop the progress of the Americans. The party soon reached the wharf at the river front.
Now, with the women out on the wharf, Dalzell hastily drew up new lines of defense, pointing cityward, while Dave, with flashlight and whistle, managed to attract attention from the deck of the “Castoga” and to flash the signal to the watch officer.
It seemed but the work of a minute to get the launch and two ship’s boats under way. The launch chugged busily shoreward. No time was wasted on explanations. The women and wounded were hurried into the boats and taken out to the gunboat.
On the next trip the rest of the party was speedily embarked.