“But if they have given warning, we might be ambushed,” said Frank. “A little way ahead there, at the mouth of the canyon, would be a fine place for an ambuscade.”
A distant sound of firing, followed by a pandemonium of high-pitched yells, shattered the silence.
“They’re attacking,” cried Ensign Warwick. “Come on. Ambush or not, we must go forward. Every man for himself and watch the sides of the canyon. On the run now, fellows. Let’s go.”
Turning he plunged ahead. Behind him came Inspector Burton and the three chums. Close on their heels were the fifteen or eighteen young sailors.
There was no ambush after all, and they later learned the Chinese they had routed at the stockade had fled to the hills without seeking to warn “Black George” of the Nemesis on his heels.
Dashing out of the canyon, around the sharp turn at its mouth, they came upon a wild scene. The Chinese coolies in the warehouse were shrieking in terror, and the sounds of their yells and of the blows they rained wildly upon the sides of the building came clear to their ears. They could see three crouching figures before the door, rifles presented, guarding against any attempt of the coolies to bolt.
The searchlight from the Sub Chaser played over the scene a moment longer as they watched, bringing it out in sharp relief. Then the light was swung away and brought to bear upon the trawler. “Black George” appeared on the deck, firing his revolver futilely at the Sub Chaser.
Ensign Warwick running rapidly reached the pier, with the boys close at his heels. He dashed out to the Sub Chaser and leaped aboard.
“Beggars must have gotten into the warehouse from the roof,” Robbins explained rapidly to his superior officer. “Stirred the coolies up to make a break for it, thinking to divert us. Would have done so, too, if I hadn’t had your warning. But we kept the coolies in bounds. Meantime, the rest of their outfit must have swam out to the trawler. Planned to set her adrift, I guess. Tide’s running out. Heard something that made me suspicious and put the light on them, as you see. And here you are.”
Advancing to the other side of his little craft he called to “Black George” to surrender.
“If you try to escape,” he called, “I’ll train a machine gun on you. Better surrender and avoid bloodshed.”