Quietly the fleet got under way, forming in column of vessels with the American gunboat leading. Then as if by signal, commencing with the leader, each of the gunboats dissolved into the night. To the lads it appeared as if a cloak had been thrown over each vessel.
“Their lights are all screened!” Sydney exclaimed. “Look! you can barely see the vessel following the ‘Phœnix.’”
Phil allowed his eyes to travel over the scene where a moment before many lights pierced the darkness; now all that was visible was the shadowy form of the American vessel scarce a hundred yards away and a dark smudge of the next following; all others had vanished from view.
In the long, tedious hour necessary to arrive at the anchored monitors, the midshipmen stood by O’Neil and Emmons at the launch’s wheel. Their pulses beat high in semi-dread at what the night would bring forth. They had seen enough of the marksmanship of the forts to know that their gunners were not to be despised. The island, behind which the gunboats were to find refuge in passing the forts, was low, but being covered with a dense growth of giant reeds, would conceal all but the lofty spars of the vessels, which for greater security had been lowered to the decks.
“Is there any doubt of the existence of this channel?” Sydney questioned Emmons, a sudden fear of treachery coming into his mind, for if it were not there the gunboats endeavoring to find its entrance would ground upon the shifting shoals of the river and when day dawned be under fire at close range of the enemy’s guns.
“I have navigated my launches on the river for six years,” Emmons replied, “and never until the Tartar general gave me this chart did I suspect that the channel existed. There is a legend among the Chinese sailors that it was used by war junks a half century ago in escaping from British men-of-war.”
After arriving at the anchorage of the monitors, for the “Monadnock” now lay near her consort, Phil directed the launch be steered alongside the farthest gunboat. Refugees, men, women and children, carrying in their hands but the necessary clothes for one night, quickly embarked and were carried expeditiously to the monitors, where Phil gave Commander Hughes’ verbal instructions and the written orders.
This duty completed, the launch once more drew up alongside of the “Phœnix’s” gangway ladder.
“Mr. Perry!” called a voice from the bridge, which Phil recognized as that of his captain. “Remain in the launch and start ahead of us. If you find less water than our draft, signal us at once.”
Phil acknowledged the order and gave the word to proceed. He had taken the precaution to make a rough sketch of the chart; now laying the sheet of paper on the deck house under the ray of a bull’s-eye lantern he judged the course to steer. O’Neil swung the launch’s bow in the compass direction, while the Chinese leadsman stood ready to test the depth of water with his bamboo pole.