panions would return home, Tan-King-Chin should be sent to the consulate about an hour after their departure. For some time Mr. Sullivan hesitated, fearing lest this offer should prove a mere ruse to gain time to send the man away from Amoy; but when at last the Intendant agreed to give a written guarantee, sealed in due form, that the prisoner should be sent to him at half-past six that evening, he gave way. There was nothing in the manner of the mandarins to excite suspicion, and the English officials, considering their point gained, returned to the consulate about five o’clock in high spirits at their success, which they laughingly attributed to their swords and cocked hats. When my brother related this scene to me, I exclaimed, “Why did you not bring him with you? I feel certain the man will never come back alive?”
“Nonsense,” replied he, laughing; “why we have the written promise of the Taoutae, so let us have dinner at once, that we may be ready to welcome him when he arrives. He certainly has caused us some trouble to-day.”
We sat down to dinner, but a sad foreboding filled my mind, and though my brother did his best to appear careless, I saw that my words had roused his suspicions; that he was anxious, and listened for every sound. The windows were wide open upon the court-yard of the consulate, and I kept glancing out into the darkness. About twenty-five minutes to seven I saw some torches pass, and exclaiming, “There he is!” I started up and went to the window, where my brother joined me. A chair was borne into the yard, accompanied by an officer and torch-bearers. The officer delivered the card of the Taoutae to one of the servants who was standing by, and when his men had set down their burden, they all fled from the consulate, as if the Angel of Death had pursued them.
My brother rushed into the yard, and, going up to the chair, said, “Well, Tan, you are a lucky fellow, and may be very thankful that you are safely back in English custody.”
No answer.
Startled and alarmed, Mr. T put his hand into the chair. Alas! my mournful forebodings had been too true. The Taoutae had indeed sent back Tan-King-Chin, but he was dead!
The English consul, who had some friends dining with him, came hastily down stairs, and, calling for lights, had the roof of the chair torn off, for it was one of the small common ones, and only thus could the body be got out. A little warmth still lingered near the region of the heart, and two medical men who examined the corpse agreed that he must have been dead about an hour. Hideous marks over the legs, ancles, and spine, and other parts of his frame, told too well the sufferings which had destroyed the life of this strong and healthy young man.
I cannot describe the horror and excitement which this foul deed caused at the consulate. Here was a British subject, acknowledged to be such by the Taoutae and Colonel-Commandant, taken from his home, and deliberately murdered in cold blood; whilst, to crown the insult, his dead body had been sent into the yard of the consulate (which every Chinaman would consider pollution), and the deed was stamped as the act of the Government by the official card of the Taoutae.
We all felt that the sword of death was suspended over our heads. No help was at hand. Even with the merchants, whom Mr. Sullivan summoned to a council, the English scarcely mustered twenty-five men. The brig-of-war stationed between Amoy and Foo-chow was on a cruise to the latter place, and it seemed as if the opportunity of her absence had been chosen for the perpetration of this outrage. The gates of the consulate were shut, arms were looked up, cleaned, and loaded, and then a long and anxious consultation was held as to the steps to be taken in this emergency. Mr. Sullivan dared not send an official letter to recall the “Serpent,” for fear of exciting the attention of the Chinese, so one of the merchants wrote a business letter, and under cover of “some opium pigeon,” the news of our peril was sent off express to Foo-chow.
At last, when every precaution was taken, my brother came to my room, and we talked over the dreadful occurrence, and our own danger. I asked him whether he thought it probable that the Chinese would fall upon us that night. He looked very grave and sad as he answered,
“We are in the hands of God. He alone can take care of us.”
The great dread of death, death so horrible as a Chinese massacre, overwhelmed me, and I trembled as I laid my head upon his shoulder.
“Never mind,” whispered he, “I will shoot you before the wretches shall touch a hair of your head.”
Oh! my countrymen and countrywomen who live at home in comfort and security, whose quiet stream of existence is scarcely ever ruffled by a single breath of fear, think what the life of those must be who go to distant lands to serve their country, and face danger in such dreadful forms, that such an assurance as this should be consolation!
That night passed heavily indeed. My brother dragged a mattrass into the ante-room which led to my chamber, and lay down there with his sword and pistols beside him; but sleep seldom visits those to whom forgetfulness would be a boon.
The next day an inquest was held upon the body of the murdered man, and evidence was taken as to the cause of his death. The following facts came out during the inquiry. Tan-King-Chin was beaten cruelly in the presence of the Taoutae twice before nine o’clock. Upon being questioned after the first application of the torture, he asserted that he was a British subject, but after the bamboo had been used a second time, his agony drew from him the confession that he was a Chinaman, and a member of one of the secret societies which plot against the mandarins. About noon the poor man was seen by his cook, who had also been made prisoner; he then appeared life-like, and not much the worse for the torture he had undergone. Between one and two in the day, the cook heard him taken from the cell, which adjoined his own, and after that knew no more about him. The day following that upon which the inquest was held, some valuable information
