“This is the very thing, sir,” O’Neil cried, showing the midshipman a shell which he recognized at once as canister; “they can’t do much against us if we can find plenty of that kind.”
Phil immediately ordered a search, with the result that nearly half of all the ammunition boxes were found to contain these deadly cartridges.
Scarcely had the survey been completed when the Americans found themselves suddenly subjected to a heavy musketry fire from the direction taken by the fleeing enemy; the lad could see distinctly shadowy forms darting here and there from behind the mound-like graves, and each moment the figures drew closer and seemed bolder; Phil realized that their enemy had been rallied in its precipitous retreat by a trusted leader and now the reassured Chinese were advancing intent upon recapturing the guns which they had abandoned in their demoralized stampede. A few of his men had already opened fire upon the misty forms, but the lad saw at once that the battery could not be saved by the weak fire of less than a hundred rifles.
“Cease firing!” he shouted above the increasing din of battle. “To the guns, men; load with canister!”
Obediently the sailors dropped their rifles and took their stations at the four guns, the leading men, petty officers, instructing those under them as coolly as if they were but drilling recruits on board ship. Phil heard the metallic rasping of the shells as they were loaded into the breeches of the guns and the silvery ring of the breech plugs thrown quickly shut. The guns’ crews stood silently ready, waiting for the word from their young leader.
Controlling his excitement, the lad delayed the expectant word to open fire; the Chinese, in their eagerness to discredit the bravery of their enemy, mistook the silence to mean that the foreigners had retreated and came boldly on, shouting their fanatical war-songs and exposing their numbers to the view of the Americans waiting to open upon them with their own artillery. The sailors trained their artillery pieces in silence, keeping the muzzles pointed in the direction of the reckless horde of delirious Chinamen.
Then swiftly at a word from the midshipman the four guns in unison roared out a challenge, leaving death and destruction in the path of the hundreds of bullets fired at once from the bores of the guns. Again the reverberation shook the hilltop and again the leaden hail poured into the now disordered ranks of the advancing fanatics. As rapidly as if the guns’ crews were at target practice, the four guns spoke, each time cutting deep gaps in the enemy’s line. After a feeble attempt to rally the disordered legions, the Chinese leaders turned and fled, followed by the already stampeded soldiers.
Having assured himself that this time the enemy would not be likely to return, Phil gave the order to cease firing and then turned his eyes expectantly toward the mission, realizing that its inmates had seen the attack and were doubtless anxious of the final outcome. However, in but a few minutes the signal-light appeared and flashed out a message which showed the boy that his captain had understood that he had gallantly repulsed the sudden attack:
“Am coming to join you.”
Ten minutes later Commander Hughes, with a hundred more men at his back, stood beside Phil in the enemy’s trenches; his captain was unstinting in his praises, while Sydney, who had accompanied him, hugged his chum delightedly; Langdon stood by an amused and pleased spectator.