“Yes,” the young ensign declared.
“You are not saying that solely to cheer us?” persisted Belle. “You are sure that you can hold out?”
“If there’s any power in American fighting men, we can,” Dave asserted.
“But you have ten men here who are out of the fight. How many more such losses can you stand?” Belle demanded calmly.
“If the ‘Castoga’ keeps on setting fires around us, I don’t believe we shall have to stand many more losses,” Dave assured her, and glanced past his wife at the other women who had gathered about them.
“Then,” pursued Miss Chapin, taking up the questioning, “you don’t consider that there is any likelihood of our being overwhelmed?”
“It is possible, but I firmly believe that we are going to be able to hold off the enemy all through the night,” said Darrin. “The Chinese are attacking us in great numbers, and they are well armed and desperate. But we are all Americans on the walls, and there is a something in the morale and fighting fiber of an American that bears down and overawes the Chinese. They have hurt ten of our men. I believe that we have put at least a thousand of the yellow men out of the fight. That is all I can say now. Is it enough to reassure you, ladies?”
“It is enough,” spoke up another woman, “to make us thankful that we have American men, instead of men of any other nation to defend us in this night of terror.”
Bowing to the women, Dave kissed Belle, then passed on. She did not seek to detain him; she was proud of her husband, confident of his fighting qualities, and aware that he could, at present, devote little time to her.
“The yellow men are creeping up again on this side, sir,” called down the voice of a petty officer from the rampart that faced the river.