A gruff hail in a foreign tongue came startlingly from the black hull of the gunboat, which the launch was slowly approaching.
Phil waited a second for breath and then in the voice of the Chinese interpreter called across the water:
“On the service of the viceroy.”
As the launch stopped at the gangway of the war-ship Phil boldly ascended the ladder to the deck. There he found an officer awaiting him.
“Commander Ignacio has sent me for a copy of the letter written by him yesterday to the viceroy. This letter has been lost in transit and he wishes to give his Excellency the copy.”
Phil pronounced his words slowly, making his accent even broader than that used by the real Ta-Ling.
“Will you wait?” the officer asked politely. “Commander Ignacio keeps his own papers. I shall endeavor to find it.”
Phil bowed his willingness, and the foreign officer beckoning the quartermaster to follow with his lantern, the two disappeared within the cabin.
The disguised midshipman saw the launch crawl slowly ahead, and a moment afterward his straining ear caught the indistinct sound of a body being lowered into the whale-boat tied at the boom of the gunboat. Then as the launch drifted almost imperceptibly back to its place at the ladder, the gleam of the lantern told him that the ship’s officers were returning.
“Here is a package of letters marked for the viceroy,” the officer said as he emerged from the cabin; “but have you no written message from my captain?”