out the
fleet, but ringing high above the crashing roar of the guns could be
heard the wild cheering of the Chinamen as they realised the gallant
exploit that the English captain was about to attempt.

Prince Hsi realised it also, and put on full steam to escape, but he was
a few minutes too late. Before the unwieldy battleship could get into
her stride the more nimble cruiser would be upon her, and, knowing that
he could not hope to reach safety before he was overtaken, the Prince
determined to wait and fight the matter out with the Englishman whom he
had already learnt to hate so intensely. He therefore reversed his
engines, trained every available gun upon the advancing _Chih' Yuen_,
and opened fire.

The cruiser reeled and quivered as the hurricane of shot and shell
struck her, but she received no injury to her vital parts, and was
checked not a moment in her headlong course. Frobisher had given orders
that his fire was to be reserved until he himself gave the word, and he
now watched for that moment as a tiger watches its prey.

A few seconds later the time arrived. Frobisher pressed the button that
let loose the storm of death upon the flagship, rang off his engines,
handed over the command to Drake, who had just reappeared, and then left
the conning-tower.

On the port side of the deck, behind the steel citadel, he found that
Drake had already drawn up the fifty volunteers he had called for, fully
armed, and ready to follow their captain wherever he might choose to
lead.

A second later there arose from the _Ting Yuen_ a chorus of yells of
astonishment and fury as the _Chih' Yuen_, instead of lying off and
fighting with her guns, as Prince Hsi had expected, ground her sides
against those of the flagship, and came to a standstill right alongside.

Frobisher shouted a word of command to the expectant sailors, and led
them round the citadel, across the cruiser's decks, and up on to those
of the battleship, before the _Ting Yuen's_ men realised what was
happening. Most of the latter had thrown off their cutlasses, the
better to handle their guns, and it was on their unpreparedness that
Frobisher relied when he led his fifty boarders to the attack.

Like a whirlwind he swept down upon the rebel seamen, who stood
petrified with alarm and astonishment beside the now useless guns, and
the broad-bladed cutlasses rose and fell for a few seconds to the
accompaniment of shrieks and yells for mercy. But Frobishe