“His Excellency says the viceroy killed himself early this morning; the captain of the yamen guards brought him the news, but it did not arrive in time to hoist the white flag before the monitor had fired her shell. He says many men were hurt during the night engagement and asks how many Americans were killed.”
“Tell him we’ve lost only one man in all the fighting,” Lieutenant Wilson replied.
Hang-Ki, after Langdon had given him Lieutenant Wilson’s words, shook his head as though mystified.
The two generals expressed a wish to visit the American commander, and make China’s peace for the hostile acts of the dead viceroy.
The sailors were assembled and marched directly to the landing.
As the river and the anchored ships came into view, Phil grasped Sydney’s arm excitedly, pointing to a white yacht lying gracefully at anchor between the monitors and the “Phœnix”; the latter having left the allies at the upper anchorage and steamed down the river while they were inside the Chinese city.
“The ‘Alacrity’!” he exclaimed, “and the admiral’s on board; there’s his flag at the main,” pointing to a large blue flag, with two white stars in the field. Then the joy died in his face. The letter of the viceroy and the telegram, as yet undelivered, came to his mind.
“Where’s the ‘Albaque’?” Sydney asked suddenly, searching the river for Ignacio’s ship.
“There she goes,” Langdon cried, pointing down stream, where a trail of smoke from a fast disappearing steamer hung low over the muddy water of the river.
Upon reaching the “Phœnix,” there was Commander Hughes on deck, anxiously waiting to hear the results of the expedition. His face was wreathed in smiles as he heard of their unlooked-for success. Then, motioning Langdon to follow, he led the two Chinese officers to his cabin.