“Come, we must act at once!” Ta-Ling finally exclaimed. “There is still a chance.”
The foreign captain’s face brightened as he questioned eagerly the excited secretary.
“The channel will be useless to the fleet if we can burn off the reed grass,” Ta-Ling explained quickly. “The land itself is low and will not hide the gunboats from the forts. But we must be quick. That fire-eating American will start immediately he receives the information of this channel.”
“Come to my cabin,” Ignacio ordered in a low voice, glancing suspiciously at his abashed lieutenant.
“If I understand you,” he continued as the door closed behind them, “you ask me to aid you in burning the vegetation on this island.”
“Certainly!” Ta-Ling cried impatiently. “Isn’t it to your interest that this American does not succeed?”
“Softly,” cautioned the foreign captain; “we don’t want our talk to be common property,” indicating by a motion of his hand the hatchway leading to the sleeping quarters of his officers; “some one may be awake down there.”
Ignacio pondered for a few seconds. To go in his own launch and set fire to this island would betray his part in the intrigue with the viceroy. His sailors could not be depended upon to keep such a secret.
“I see no alternative but to decline,” he continued decidedly. “You must do this act yourself; my men could not be trusted with such a secret.”
“I will furnish the men,” Ta-Ling cried, beside himself with impatience. “You must furnish me a launch with some one to run it; but hurry, man,” he urged excitedly. “The grass must be burned off before the fleet arrives at the island, or else we are defeated.”