Thence he went to the bandit chief’s headquarters, and reported that he had drugged the officers and men in the foreign devils’ ship, and all that Fu-so-li had to do was to go alongside and seize her. What a valuable haul of arms and ammunition it would bring!
The bandit chief would be a hero amongst the coolie population. He could bargain with the Chinese government, obtaining pardon, more riches, and a high command in the army. He’d be a marshal, even as other bandits had become before him! Then, no doubt, he would remember Ti-so, who had helped him to power and fame.
Fu-so-li, however, was cautious even as he listened to Ti-so’s blandishments. There was such a thing as double-crossing, although the bandit chief had not heard it thus named.
He left Ti-so under an armed guard, while he collected his flotilla and went down stream to see for himself the state of the crew of the British gunboat.
And then he had a nasty shock.
But not such a nasty one as Ti-so received on the angry chief’s return.
Fu-so-li sent for the man.
“You told me that the foreign devils would be in a sleep near to death,” began the bandit chief, without any preamble. “They are very much awake, both officers and men.”
“Honourable Excellency, by the spirits of my unworthy ancestors,”—Ti-so began to expostulate, falling upon his knees.
Fu-so-li made an almost imperceptible sign to a huge Mongolian, who was resting his hands on the hilt of a double-handled, broad-bladed sword.