“Where is he? quick, man! Everything depends upon my finding him at once,” Ta-Ling cried in vexation.
“He was with you; the launch was waiting for him,” the officer returned, catching his breath, his heart in his throat.
“I haven’t seen him since this morning,” the Chinaman declared impatiently. “Does no one know of his whereabouts?”
The officer was rooted to the spot from fright. His throat was parched with fear and his tongue unruly.
“You were here to-night asking for the papers of the captain,” he managed to gasp, his worst fears realized.
“You’re dreaming, man,” Ta-Ling retorted almost angrily. “Come, explain! What do you mean?”
The officer related to the anxious Chinaman how some one whom he could have taken oath was he had come on board from a launch and he had given him the copies of his captain’s letters to the viceroy, and also a Chinese refugee who had escaped on board from the shore.
Ta-Ling groaned in anguish as the full significance of this news dawned upon him. The Americans evidently had Emmons—and his chart. But had they escaped? That was surely the cause of the firing.
“What was the firing?” Ta-Ling asked hurriedly.
“An American monitor and the forts,” the officer replied in a shaky voice.