Moving rapidly onward the Chinaman stopped suddenly in front of a cell door.
Phil’s heart was as lead as he pushed the door open. The cell was empty.
“Ta-Ling did return,” he cried in despair.
CHAPTER XXIV
PHIL EXPLAINS
O’Neil, with his characteristic energy, wasted no time upon the cell, which he had made up his mind long since would be found empty, but with three or four sailors at his back had pressed forward to the end of the narrow corridor.
He heard Phil’s cry of disappointment as he found himself on the edge of a smaller courtyard, and was just in time to discover a fleeing band of Chinamen disappearing through a narrow alley at the far end.
Calling loudly for the others to follow, the boatswain’s mate ran hurriedly forward across the stone-paved court.
Reaching the entrance to the alley, the sharp discharges of rifles from the other end caused him to stop abruptly, but before he could gain a place of safety, a stinging pain in his shoulder made him cry out sharply.
Then his anger overcame his training in discretion and with his men beside him, while the heavy footfalls of the midshipmen advancing on a run across the courtyard told him of the approach of reënforcements, he boldly raced between the bordering walls of brick and mortar now swept by the enemy’s bullets.
As he again emerged into the sunlight, he was barely in time to see the persistent enemy scattering like a covey of partridges through numerous passages at the far end of a third courtyard, while from that direction a hot fire was directed upon him and his handful of men.