CHAPTER IX—THE TRAITOR OF THE YAMEN

How they ever came through the next fifteen minutes was afterwards a mystery to Dave and Dan.

They were in the thick of that frantic, deadly scramble for possession of the ramparts. As fast as Chinese assailants fell they were instantly replaced by others.

When Dave’s revolver was not barking, his sword was in action, and his arms fairly ached with the labor of pushing away ladder after ladder. Hardly one of Dave’s men was less occupied. Many of the Chinese had dropped the rifle for the long spear, or else for the keen, two-edged sword. American blood flowed in that quarter of an hour.

Boom! Out of the darkness came a trail of fire. Bang! A shell from the “Castoga” exploded among the nearest buildings on the river side beyond the yamen compound. In another moment flames were leaping upward from a flimsy house in which a shell had exploded.

Boom! Other shells began dropping about, on three sides of the compound. Soon a score of native houses were in flames, the light showing to the marksmen on the parapets just where to “find” their yellow assailants.

But no shell was fired over the yamen. Plainly the “Castoga’s” gunners feared that they might drop a shell into the compound itself.

On three sides the flames of the conflagration made the surroundings nearly as bright as in daytime. The men on the ramparts could now see excellently, and aim accordingly.

At the same time the attack by ladders ceased, for now the laddermen were too plainly visible and could be killed with ease.

“Great work, that done by the shells!” chuckled Danny Grin.

“Yes,” nodded Dave, “but I wish we could have the same kind of illumination to the southward. Withdraw enough men from the other three sides, Dan, to strengthen the southern rampart sufficiently.”

The machine guns barking out anew, and with increased deadliness, the thousands of fanatical Chinese, now finding themselves too much in the spotlight, soon withdrew to a distance. From the darkness on the farther sides of the fires, however, they still kept up a sniping fire.

“Watch from the south wall, Dan,” urged Ensign Darrin. “I’m going down into the compound to see how it fares with our wounded.”

Throughout the deadly assault by the ladder men no American had been killed, but several had been wounded.

Many were the “jackies” who, binding handkerchiefs over their wounds, stubbornly remained at their posts.

In the circle of light under the paper lanterns, Dave found a medical missionary, assisted by some of the women, attending to the wounded.

Five sailors, two marines and three missionaries comprised the list of the more severely wounded. All were cheerful, however, and none seemed in danger from his wounds.

Not until Dave had gone the rounds did Belle step forward.

“Have you a moment to tell us anything?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” smiled Dave, resting an arm on her shoulder. “We are going to have quite a noisy night.”

“Are you going to be able to hold the yamen against the Chinese?”

“That’s exactly what we’re here to do,” answered Dave with a confident smile.

“But are you going to be able to do it?”

“Yes,” the young ensign declared.

“You are not saying that solely to cheer us?” persisted Belle. “You are sure that you can hold out?”

“If there’s any power in American fighting men, we can,” Dave asserted.

“But you have ten men here who are out of the fight. How many more such losses can you stand?” Belle demanded calmly.

“If the ‘Castoga’ keeps on setting fires around us, I don’t believe we shall have to stand many more losses,” Dave assured her, and glanced past his wife at the other women who had gathered about them.

“Then,” pursued Miss Chapin, taking up the questioning, “you don’t consider that there is any likelihood of our being overwhelmed?”

“It is possible, but I firmly believe that we are going to be able to hold off the enemy all through the night,” said Darrin. “The Chinese are attacking us in great numbers, and they are well armed and desperate. But we are all Americans on the walls, and there is a something in the morale and fighting fiber of an American that bears down and overawes the Chinese. They have hurt ten of our men. I believe that we have put at least a thousand of the yellow men out of the fight. That is all I can say now. Is it enough to reassure you, ladies?”

“It is enough,” spoke up another woman, “to make us thankful that we have American men, instead of men of any other nation to defend us in this night of terror.”

Bowing to the women, Dave kissed Belle, then passed on. She did not seek to detain him; she was proud of her husband, confident of his fighting qualities, and aware that he could, at present, devote little time to her.

“The yellow men are creeping up again on this side, sir,” called down the voice of a petty officer from the rampart that faced the river.

“When you think they’re close enough, let ’em have it, and let ’em have it strong,” Darrin called back. “Use the machine gun, but don’t waste ammunition.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

Soon a pattering of shots on the north rampart announced that the yellow men were once more attempting to come in close. Dave did not rush at once to the top of the wall, for he knew, by the comparative lightness of the fire of his own men, that the attack had not become serious. The officers there were capable of handling the situation.

From the red glow against the sky. Ensign Darrin knew that some of the Chinese dwellings were still burning, giving ample light to enable his men to serve as sharpshooters.

“My heartfelt thanks are due for that bombardment by the ‘Castoga,’” the young ensign told himself. “With light to shoot by we must score at least five times as many hits as would be possible without it.”

Crossing to the southern side of the compound, Dave ascended nimbly to the rampart. Dan came forward to meet him.

“Nothing but a little sniping going on at present,” reported Dalzell. “The nearest approach to trouble appears to be at the north side, facing the river. Shall I go back there?”

“I believe that this side will again witness the heaviest fighting,” Ensign Dave rejoined. “You had better remain here.”

Again Dave went below. Listening for a moment to the sounds of firing, he crossed the compound in no great haste. Past the circle of lighted lanterns he went. Had he not taken a second quick look at the main gate on the north side Darrin would not have noticed what was happening.

Starting violently, he looked again.

Yes, that big, double gate, moved by some unseen force, was swinging open. In another instant it would admit into the compound, the vanguard of a mob of frantic yellow men.

With a gasp of terror, when he thought of the defenceless women in the yamen Ensign Dave Darrin rushed forward at a run, revolver in hand.