These officers made no reply to the remarks which I supposed were addressed to them, if they understood them. But when we had reached a retired ravine amongst the twisted hills which bound that coast, our captors raised their pistols and evidently demanded money, tearing at our dress, and searching our garments and persons. All this time the Chinese gentlemen submitted to the insults with a truly Christian, or Chinese, patience. But one could discern the flash of the eye and the movement of the face which spoke of the passion within. When we had been robbed, we were bound by our ankles and made to stand against the slope of the hill, half-naked, wholly chilled, and destitute. Verily, between Jack and Jap I was having a cheerful season.
My belt and all my money, my "pass" and badge, which I prized most highly, were confiscated. The Chinese officers were even worse treated—their clothing was appropriated, their rings and distinctions. All this time no one had taken any trouble about us. Everyone apparently was occupied in fighting or pursuing the fugitives, of whom a number had been taken to the rear.
When the robbers had completed their work, and prevented our escape, they slowly retired to the end of the ravine, covering us with their purloined rifles as they went backward. At times these pleasant gentlemen halted, aimed at us, and again retired, till I began to think they would leave us, bound, to die there of cold and hunger. Then again I fancied they intended to shoot at us as targets, and practise upon us, and this idea was almost confirmed by the way in which they separated into a line; they took up positions apart, and looked to their arms. The suspense was torture!
I looked at my fellow-prisoners of olive complexion, they were perfectly passive, and apparently unconcerned by these manoeuvres. But I was not. After the first glance at them I concentrated my gaze upon the robbers, who evidently wished to put us away to the place where no tales can be told. I watched the levelled rifles, I heard a voice say something, I saw five faces laid upon the gun-stocks, and uttering a cry fell flat on my face as a heavy body came hurtling down the ravine and kicked up a furious dust beyond us. The roar and the detonations arose simultaneously. Then more guns, but perhaps blank—at least they did no visible harm; and then, after a while, silence: deadly, thick silence in the solitary ravine near the village on the cliff!
I lay still, half-suffocated, breathing with great difficulty, but quite afraid to move. The shells had ceased, the "blank shots" had stopped resounding amid the hills, the robbers had fled—for I could not hear them, and the Chinese I knew were habitually silent. But the silence was particularly impressive after the late uproar, and even though I was glad to lie unmolested I began to wish for a change from the death-like silence of the now gloomy ravine. The sun was disappearing into the clouds beyond the farthest hills, and still no one came. I determined to rise. I moved, and felt rather dizzy; perhaps I had been asleep! I sat up. What had happened?
I gazed around me in all directions, unable to comprehend the result of the adventure. The first objects which met my wondering eyes were the five camp-followers lying in all sorts of attitudes, dead and mutilated; their rifles lay at their feet or rested upon the bodies. They had been instantly killed; and, indeed, partly destroyed.
Turning my head seaward I beheld the ships at a distance, and close by me the Chinese officers resting limp and lifeless against the rocks, wearing the same stolid expression upon their now pale-yellow features, their eyes being nearly closed altogether. Again I asked myself what had happened? What—who—had killed all these men and yet spared me?
My first movement was directed to my feet. I managed to unbind my ankles, and after a while was able to walk steadily. Then, moved by curiosity first—not by compassion, I regret to say—I advanced cautiously towards the camp-followers, still clad in the leggings and loose blouses, a kind of undress uniform. I went up and stood over them. They were dead, blown to pieces by a shell, I decided; their rifles lying upon their chests, or beside them. But what had killed the Chinese officers, then? They, too, were dead. It was not possible that the shell would have slain them also and left me alone alive!
I took up one of the rifles and examined it. It had been discharged. Another, and another! Yes, all five were empty! Then the fellows had fired at us as I had anticipated. Anticipated is the correct expression. I had anticipated the discharge by one second, when I beheld the flying body—the shell—in the air dark against the sky and flaming. I had fallen flat: the bullets had struck above me; the fiery message had completed the tragedy of the day.
That was all! By some impulse I had flung myself on my face, no doubt in fear you will say—perhaps. I was very young, and did not wish to pose as a hero when there was no gain in bravado and no dishonour in stooping. I have read of soldiers "ducking" at a cannon-ball, and why is it blameworthy in me—a lad almost—if I winced at the bullet of the assassin? At anyrate I didn't see the good of being killed, and I "ducked" to the shell, and to the expected bullets.