to our flag. He says he aimed at the
cannon, which was trained on his vessel, and which had first fired on
him. But you must know, my dear Stedman, that before his arrival,
war-vessels belonging to the several powers mentioned in my revised
despatches, had started for Opeki at full speed, to revenge the
butchery of the foreign residents. A word, my dear young friend, to
the wise is sufficient. I am indebted to you to the extent of twenty
thousand dollars, and in return I give you this kindly advice. Leave
Opeki. If there is no other way, swim. But leave Opeki."

The sun, that night, as it sank below the line where the clouds seemed
to touch the sea, merged them both into a blazing, blood-red curtain,
and colored the most wonderful spectacle that the natives of Opeki had
ever seen. Six great ships of war, stretching out over a league of
sea, stood blackly out against the red background, rolling and rising,
and leaping forward, flinging back smoke and burning sparks up into the
air behind them, and throbbing and panting like living creatures in
their race for revenge. From the south came a three-decked vessel, a
great island of floating steel, with a flag as red as the angry sky
behind it, snapping in the wind. To the south of it plunged two long
low-lying torpedo-boats, flying the French tri-color, and still farther
to the north towered three magnificent hulls of the White Squadron.
Vengeance was written on every curve and line, on each straining
engine-rod, and on each polished gun-muzzle.

And in front of these, a clumsy fishing-boat rose and fell on each
passing wave. Two sailors sat in the stern, holding the rope and
tiller, and in the bow, with their backs turned forever toward Opeki,
stood two young boys, their faces lit by the glow of the setting sun
and stirred by the sight of the great engines of war plunging past them
on their errand of vengeance.

"Stedman," said the elder boy, in an awe-struck whisper, and with a
wave of his hand, "we have not lived in vain."

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Reporter Who Made Himself King, by
Richard Harding Davis

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