The captain then came upon the bridge, and I heard him chatting with the mate.
"I suppose she's a Jap," said the latter; "but I can't grasp the white flag."
"Dip the ensign, anyway; it's the proper thing. Hoist the red rag," he said.
The signal-hand quickly bent the ensign of the merchant navy; it rose, fluttered out, dipped, and rose again to the peak, blowing out plainly.
"I say, he takes no notice," cried the captain. "She keeps her course to the north-east. Now what in thunder does that mean? It's an insult, bedad!"
"She's steaming at a fine rate, sir. Looks as if she was in a hurry."
"Running away, bedad!" laughed the skipper, turning his glass upon the large ship. "Ah! a man-of-war and a Chinaman,—a trick, I believe."
"Really so?" exclaimed the mate. "If so, there's been a 'tit up' yonder, and Jap has licked Johnny, but I heard no guns. Excuse me, sir, what's that yonder?—a schooner, I say."
I heard him, and got a glass from the signalman near whom I was standing. But the schooner was not the Harada, so far as I could see. She had no foretop-sail-yard. She was steering south-east, a long distance away, and looked an old style of vessel getting away.
By this time the news had spread through the steamer, and penetrated to the Chinese intelligence forward. The soldiers came up in numbers, and the officers, accompanied by the European passenger, began to chatter and make all kinds of inquiries and observations. The Japanese flag had evidently raised the "dander" of the Chinese. They understood that the man-of-war was a Chinaman, but could not understand the white feather of retreat or escape.