Well, Frobisher vowed to himself, the traitor should not succeed in his scheme, whatever it might be, even though he had to board the Ting Yuen himself, and slay Prince Hsi with his own hands, to avenge the death of the admiral.
And then he saw what it was that the traitor prince intended. The commotion on the deck of the flagship had ceased, the mutineers having either slain or driven overboard all those who opposed them, and, while Frobisher’s ship was still some distance away, he saw the Chinese flag flutter down from the Ting Yuen’s peak, to be immediately replaced by the Japanese naval ensign; and the ship herself swung round in the direction of the enemy’s squadron and began to forge ahead toward it, Prince Hsi having evidently determined to turn his guns against his own countrymen.
As the Japanese ensign fluttered aloft there fell a sudden silence over both fleets. As though by mutual consent every gun was hushed for a few moments, and hoarse, stern, and menacing above the strange stillness rose a roar of execration from the throats of the Chinese, as they at last realised the meaning of the extraordinary scene that had just taken place aboard the flagship.
Defiantly her captain trained his guns on the nearest Chinese ships and fired; but whether his gunners could not bring themselves to the actual point of firing on their country’s flag, or whether it was due to the excitement of the moment, every shot missed, and a shout of derision went up from the Chinese squadron.
But Captain Frobisher knew that curses and shouts of execration would not bring back the Ting Yuen. If she was to be saved to the Chinese Navy she must not be allowed to gain the shelter of the Japanese main body. If she reached that, she would be lost for ever, and the day would be lost beyond hope of redemption for the Chinese. To lose one powerful battleship, and to find another suddenly arrayed against them—for that is what it would of course amount to—would so weaken the already enfeebled Chinese strength that success would be out of the question; and the Englishman determined that, come what might, he would prevent the traitor prince from carrying out his foul intentions.
He shouted a few brief commands to Drake, who vanished like a puff of smoke from the conning-tower; issued an order to the quartermaster at the wheel; and rang to the engine-room the two short calls that signified that he required all the power the engines could develop, for a sudden emergency. Then he looked to see that his sword was loose in its scabbard and his revolver fully charged, and waited for Drake to reappear, while the Chih’ Yuen, bounding forward under the full power of her engines, turned her nose toward the stern of the Ting Yuen and kept it fixed there, relentless as fate.
By this time the cannonade had again become general throughout the fleet, but ringing high above the crashing roar of the guns could be heard the wild cheering of the Chinamen as they realised the gallant exploit that the English captain was about to attempt.
Prince Hsi realised it also, and put on full steam to escape, but he was a few minutes too late. Before the
unwieldy battleship could get into her stride the more nimble cruiser would be upon her, and, knowing that he could not hope to reach safety before he was overtaken, the Prince determined to wait and fight the matter out with the Englishman whom he had already learnt to hate so intensely. He therefore reversed his engines, trained every available gun upon the advancing Chih’ Yuen, and opened fire.