Brown of Moukden: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War
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Title: Brown of Moukden: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War
Creator: Herbert Strang
Illustrator: W. Rainey
Release date: November 21, 2013 [eBook #44256]
Language: English
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Credits: Produced by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROWN OF MOUKDEN: A STORY OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR ***
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Illustration: Herr Schwab under Fire]
Brown of Moukden
A Story of the Russo-Japanese War
BY
HERBERT STRANG
AUTHOR OF "KOBO: A STORY OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR"
"TOM BURNABY" "BOYS OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE" ETC.
Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1906
"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
--_Tennyson's Ulysses_.
_My dear Raymond,_
_Last year I wove a romance about the early incidents of the great war
now happily at an end; this year I have chosen its later incidents as
the background for my hero's adventures. But while in "Kobo" the
struggle was viewed from the Japanese stand-point, in "Brown of Moukden"
(which is in no sense a sequel) you will find yourself among the
Russians, looking at the other side of the shield. It is not the
romancer's business to be a partisan; and we British people were at
first, perhaps, a little blind to the fact that the bravery, the
endurance, the heroism, have not been all on the one side._
_As a boy preparing for the Navy, you would have liked, I dare say, to
see Jack Brown in the thick of the great naval battle at Tsushima. But
I had three reasons for giving no space to that famous victory. First,
Jack could not possibly have seen it. Secondly, sea-fights had a very
good turn in "Kobo". Thirdly, I hope some day to give you sea-dogs a
whole book to yourselves--but that, as Mr. Kipling somewhere says, will
be another story. Meanwhile, if you get half as much fun in reading
this book as I have had in writing it, I shall count myself very lucky
indeed._
_Yours sincerely,_
_HERBERT STRANG._
_September, 1905._
*Contents*
_Chapter_ I
IVAN IVANOVITCH BROWN
_Chapter_ II
MR. WANG AND A CONSTABLE
_Chapter_ III
DEPORTED
_Chapter_ IV
THE GREAT SIBERIAN RAILWAY
_Chapter_ V
A DEAL IN FLOUR
_Chapter_ VI
IN FULL CRY
_Chapter_ VII
A DAUGHTER OF POLAND
_Chapter_ VIII
A CUSTOM OF CATHAY
_Chapter_ IX
AH LUM
_Chapter_ X
THE HIRED MAN
_Chapter_ XI
WAR-LOOK-SEE
_Chapter_ XII
THE RETREAT FROM LIAO-YANG
_Chapter_ XIII
MR. BROWN'S HOUSE
_Chapter_ XIV
A NIGHT WITH SOWINSKI
_Chapter_ XV
COSSACK AND CHUNCHUSE
_Chapter_ XVI
FIRE PANIC
_Chapter_ XVII
THE WAR GAME
_Chapter_ XVIII
A FIGHT IN THE HILLS
_Chapter_ XIX
CAPTAIN KARGOPOL FINDS THE CHUNCHUSES
_Chapter_ XX
THE BATTLE OF MOUKDEN
_Chapter_ XXI
AH LUM AT BAY
_Chapter_ XXII
CAPTURING A LOCOMOTIVE
_Chapter_ XXIII
FROM MAO-SHAN TO IMIEN-PO
_Chapter_ XXIV
LIEUTENANT POTUGIN IN PURSUIT
_Chapter_ XXV
THE PRESSURE-GAUGE
_Chapter_ XXVI
A DOUBLE QUEST
_Chapter_ XXVII
SAKHALIN
_Chapter_ XXVIII
THE EMPTY HUT
_Chapter_ XXIX
THE HEART OF THE HILL
_Chapter_ XXX
CROWDED MOMENTS
_Chapter_ XXXI
ENTENTE CORDIALE
*Glossary*
*List of Illustrations*
_Plate_ I
HERR SCHWAB UNDER FIRE . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
_Plate_ II
A SEARCH PARTY
_Plate_ III
JACK SAVES AH FU
_Plate_ IV
SOWINSKI'S VISITOR
_Plate_ V
AT FULL TILT
_Plate_ VI
"RECALL YOUR LAST WORD!"
*Maps and Plans*
Manchuria and part of Siberia
The Battle of Liao-yang.
The Battle of Moukden.
The Siberian Railway from Mao-shan to Han-ta-ho-tzue
*CHAPTER I*
*Ivan Ivanovitch Brown*
Scenes in Moukden--Beyond the Walls--Lieutenant Borisoff--The
Cangue--Anton Sowinski--Criminal Procedure--Mr. Brown
Senior--Schlagintwert's Representative--The Automatic Principle
The midsummer sun had spent its force, and as it reddened towards its
setting Moukden began to breathe again. The gildings on palace, temple,
and pagoda shone with a ruddy glow, but the eye was no longer dazzled;
garish in full sunlight, the city was now merely brilliant, the reds and
greens, blues and yellows, of its house-fronts toned to a rich and
charming beauty. The shops--almost every house is a shop--were open,
displaying here poultry, dried fish, and articles of common use; there
piles of Oriental merchandise: silks and embroideries, parasols and
screens, ornaments of silver and copper, priceless porcelain and
lacquered ware. Monsters with vermilioned faces grinned from the
poles--hung with branches and surmounted by peacocks with spread
tail--that bore the signs and legends of the merchants and shopkeepers
before whose doors they were erected: all different, yet all alike in
gorgeousness of colouring and fantasy of design.
Two main thoroughfares traverse Moukden at right angles. Along these
flowed in each direction a full tide of people, gathering up cross
currents at every side street and alley. It was a picturesque throng,
the light costumes showing in brilliant relief against the darker
colours of the houses and the brown dust of the roadway. There were
folk of many nations: Manchus, Mongols, Tartars, Greeks and
Montenegrins, soldiers Chinese and Russian, here and there a European
war-correspondent escaping from the boredom of his inn. Pedestrians and
horsemen jostled vehicles of all descriptions. Workmen staggered along
under enormous loads; labourers of both sexes trudged homewards from the
fields, their implements on their shoulders. A drove of fat pigs in
charge of a blue-coated swineherd scampered and squealed beneath the
wheels of a Russian transport wagon. Here was a rickshaw drawn with
shrill cries by its human steeds; there a rough springless two-wheeled
mule-cart, painted in yellow ochre, hauled by three mules tandem, and
jolting over the ruts with its load of passengers, some on the backs of
the mules, some on the shafts, some packed beneath the low tilt of blue
cotton. Not far behind, a trolley, pushed by perspiring coolies and
carrying seven men standing in unstable equilibrium, had halted to make
way for a magnificent blue sedan chair, wadded with fur and silk, borne
by four stalwart servants. Through the trellised window of the chair
the curious might catch a glimpse of a bespectacled mandarin, his
mushroom hat decked with the button indicative of his rank. With shouts
and blows a detachment of Chinese soldiers, red-jacketed infantry,
carrying halberts, javelins, and sickles swathed to poles, forced a
passage for his excellency through the crowd.
The heavy air quivered with noise: the mingled cries of street merchants
and children, the clatter of hoofs, the din of gongs at the doors of the
theatres, weird strains of song accompanied by the twanging of
inharmonious guitars, and, dominating all, the insistent strident squeak
of a huge wheelbarrow, trundled by a grave old Chinaman, unconscious of
the pain his greaseless wheels inflicted on untutored sensibilities. A
Russian lady passing in a droshky grimaced and put her fingers to her
ears, and a wayfarer near her smiled and addressed a word to the
torturer, who looked at him aslant out of his little eyes and went on
his way placid and unabashed.
The pedestrian who had spoken was one by himself in all that vast
throng. That he was European was shown by his garments; a western
observer, however little travelled, would have known him at a glance as
an English lad. His garb was light, fitting a slim, tall figure; a
broad-brimmed cotton hat was slanted over his nose to keep the glowing
rays from his eyes; he walked with the springy tread and free swinging
gait never acquired by an Oriental. He wormed his way through the
jostling crowd, passed through the bastioned gate of the lofty inner
ramparts, crossed the suburbs, where the gardens were in gorgeous bloom,
and, leaving the external wall of mud behind him, came into the brown,
rough, dusty road, lined on both sides with booths, leading to the
railway-station. Rich fields of maize and beans and millet covered the
vast plain beyond, and upon the sky-line lay a range of wooded hills.
By and by the walker came to the new street that had sprung up beside
the railway-station since the Russian occupation: a settlement tenanted
by traders--Greek, Caucasian, and Hebrew--dealing in every product of
the two civilizations, eastern and western, here so incongruously in
contact. Nothing that could be sold or bartered came amiss to these
polyglot traders; they kept everything from champagne to sake (the rice
beer of Japan), from boots to smoked fish. Hurrying through this oven
of odours, he passed the line of ugly brick cottages run up for the
Russian officials, and arrived at the station. It was quiet at the
moment; there was a pause in the stream of traffic which had for some
time been steadily flowing southward. Save for the railway servants, the
riflemen who guard the line, and a few officers desperately bored in
their effort to kill time, the platform was deserted. The Russian
lieutenant on duty accosted the new-comer.
"Well, Ivan Ivanovitch, what can we do for you to-day?"
"The same old thing," replied the lad slowly in Russian. "Can you send a
wire to Vladivostok for my father?"
"Very sorry; it is impossible to-day as it was yesterday. None but
military messages are going through."
"Well, I just came up on the chance."
"When are you leaving? We shall miss you."
"Thanks! In a few days, I hope. Father has just about settled up
everything. In fact, that consignment of flour is the only thing left
to trouble about now. I hope it will get through safely, but the
Japanese appear to be scouting the seas pretty thoroughly. As soon as
we hear from our agent at Vladivostok we shall be off."
"Come and have a glass of tea in the buffet. It may be the last time."
Jack Brown--known to his Russian friends as Ivan Ivanovitch, "John the
son of John"--accepted the invitation. After a chat and a glass of tea
from the large steaming samovar, always a conspicuous object in a
Russian buffet, he left the station as the dusk was falling and a haze
spread over the ground, covering up the many unlovely evidences of the
Russian occupation. For variety's sake he changed his course and took a
path to the left that skirted the native graveyard, intending to enter
the city by one of the northern gates. A line of heavy native carts,
with their long teams of mules and ponies, was slowly wending
northwards; women, their hair decorated with flowers, were taking their
children for an airing before the sun set and the gates were closed; a
beggar stood by the roadside cleverly imitating a bird's cry by blowing
through a curled-up leaf. Jack came to the great mandarin road and
turned towards the city; such evening scenes were now a matter of course
to him. But he was still at some distance from the outer wall when he
came upon a sight which, common as it was in Moukden, he never beheld
without pity and indignation. A big muscular Chinaman of some thirty to
forty years was seated on the ground, his neck locked in the square
wooden collar known as the cangue, an oriental variant of the old
English pillory. So devised that the head and the upper part of the
body are held rigid, the cangue as an instrument of punishment is worthy
of Chinese ingenuity. The victim, as Jack knew, must have sat
throughout the long sweltering day tortured by innumerable insects which
his fixed hands were powerless to beat off. At nightfall a constable
would come and release him, conveying him to the gaol attached to a
yamen within the city, where he would be locked up until the morning.
Then the cangue would be replaced and the criminal taken back to the
same spot on the wayside.
Jack hurried his step as he approached, eager to leave the unpleasant
sight behind him. But on drawing nearer he was surprised to find that
he knew the man,--surprised, because he was one of the last who could
have been expected to fall into such a plight. The recognition was
mutual; and as Jack came up, the parched lips of the victim uttered a
woeful exclamation of greeting.
"How came you here, Mr. Wang?" asked Jack in Chinese.
The crime was indicated on the upper board of the cangue, but Jack,
though he had more than a smattering of colloquial Chinese, knew almost
nothing of the written language. The poor wretch could hardly
articulate; but with difficulty he at length managed, in the short
high-pitched monosyllables of his native tongue, to explain. He had been
accused of fraud; the charge was totally without foundation; but at the
trial before the magistrates witness after witness had appeared against
him: it is easy to suborn evidence in a Chinese court: and he had been
condemned to the cangue, a first step in the system of torture by which
a prisoner, innocent or guilty, is forced to confess.
To one who knew the Chinese as Jack did, there was nothing surprising in
this explanation, except the fact that Wang Shih was the victim. He was
a respectable man, the son of an old farmer some fifteen miles east of
Moukden, and practically the owner of the farm, his father being past
work. Hard-working and honest, he was the last man to be suspected of
trickery or base dealing. Mr. Brown had done much business with him, and
only recently had had a proof of his good faith. The Chinaman had
contracted to supply him with a large quantity of fodder. A few days
before the date of delivery he had been visited by a business rival of
Mr. Brown's, a Pole, who had come to Moukden some four or five years
before, and from small beginnings had worked up a considerable business.
Almost from the first he had come into competition with Mr. Brown. The
methods of the two men were diametrically opposed,--the Pole relying on
bribery, the corruption of the official class with which he had to deal;
the Englishman sternly resolute to lend himself to no transaction in
Manchuria of which he would be ashamed at home. Anton Sowinski, as the
Pole was called, offered Wang Shih the strongest inducements to break
his contract with Mr. Brown; but finding his native honesty proof
against temptation, he had lost his temper, abused him, and finally
struck him with his whip. The Chinaman was a peaceable fellow; but
beneath his stolidity slumbered the fierce temper of his race. Under
the Pole's provocation and assault his self-restraint gave way. He
seized Sowinski with the grip of a giant, rapped his head soundly
against the fence, and then threw him bodily into the road. The
contract with Mr. Brown had been duly fulfilled; and it was, to say the
least, unlikely that a man who had thus kept faith to his own
disadvantage should have descended to vulgar fraud.
"Who was your accuser?" asked Jack.
"Loo Sen."
"He's a neighbour of yours, isn't he?"
"Yes, and has long borne us ill-will. But it was not he really. As I
left the yamen where I was tried, a friend whispered me that Loo Sen was
in the pay of Sowinski."
"Ah! that throws a light on it. Sowinski is having his revenge. It is
a bad business, Mr. Wang."
Jack knew the ways of Moukden magistrates too well to hope that the
conviction and sentence could be quashed. On the contrary, if the cangue
proved ineffectual in extorting a confession, there were various grades
of torture that could be applied in turn. But prisoners often escaped;
their friends, it is true, afterwards suffered. Wang Shih was so big
and strong that he might easily have overpowered his gaoler some night
when the cangue was removed; it was, perhaps, only consideration for his
family that had restrained him. Jack questioned him on this point.
"Yes. That is the reason. The constable--wah! I could kill him
easily; but what then? I could not remain in Moukden; I am too well
known. And my father would not be safe. They would behead him, and rob
my family of all they possess."
"Yes, I understand. I wish I could do something for you; but I see no
way. My father might have done something at one time--possibly through
the Russians, although they are unwilling to mix themselves up in
Chinese quarrels; but in any case his influence is gone since the war
began."
"You can do one thing for me, sir, if you will; that is, send a message
to my father. Tell him to gather all his things together and leave the
district. I will never confess to a crime which I did not commit, and
there will be time for him, before I am beheaded, to get away."
"I will do that. I would do anything I could to help you, but----"
"Here comes the constable, sir."
Jack looked along the road and saw, slouching up, a typical specimen of
the Chinese constable. In China the constable is universally and
deservedly detested. Sheltered by the mandarins of the yamen, he preys
upon the rich and oppresses the poor. The prisoner in his keeping is
starved, beaten, tortured until he yields his last copper cash; if he
escapes, the constable pounces upon his unhappy relatives, and their
fate is the same. This man scowled fiercely upon Jack, and the latter,
seeing that no good could come of remaining longer, spoke a final word
of sympathy to Wang Shih, and went on amid the thinning stream of people
to the city.
"Well, Jack," said his father, as the lad entered the neat one-story
house which served both as dwelling and office; "any news?"
"None, Father. The wires are still monopolized."
"That's a nuisance. You'll have to pack off to Vladivostok yourself,
I'm afraid. Ten chances to one, Captain Fraser will not get through
safely; still, one can never tell. I heard a rumour to-day that the
Russian fleet has made a raid from Vladivostok; and if it keeps the
Japanese employed, Fraser may make a safe run. You've been a long
time."
"Yes. I had a chat with Lieutenant Borisoff; but I was detained on the
way back. What do you think? Sowinski has got Loo Sen to bring a charge
against Wang Shih, and the poor fellow is in the cangue."
"Whew! That's bad. It means decapitation in the end."
"I suppose you can do nothing for him?"
"Nothing, I fear. I'm sorry for the poor chap, especially as I'm afraid
it's partly through his holding to his bargain with me. But I've no
influence now, and even if I had, it would be useless to interfere in a
purely Chinese matter. We could never prove that Sowinski had a hand in
it."
Mr. Brown reflected for some moments, Jack studying his features.
"No," he said at last, "there's absolutely nothing we can do. This only
proves that I am right in winding things up and cutting sticks. That
fellow Sowinski is a blackguard; if I stayed here he'd find some means
of doing me an injury next."
"But, Father, the Chinese are good friends of ours, and you've never
been on bad terms with the Russians."
"Not till lately, it is true. But this war has brought a new set of men
here, and you know perfectly well that I've offended some of them;
General Bekovitch, for one, has a grudge against me. They don't
understand a man who won't bribe or be bribed; I really think they
believe there must be something fishy about him! However, we'll be off
as soon as you get back from Vladivostok, and leave the field to
Sowinski. I wish the Russians joy of him."
"When shall I go to Vladivostok?"
"The day after to-morrow; that gives Orloff another chance. And I've
several little things still to settle up. By the way, here's a queer
letter I got just now; it was brought by a Chinese runner from
Newchang."
He handed the letter to Jack, who read:
"Respected Sir,--The undersigned does himself the honour to introduce
himself to your esteemed notice, as per instructions received per
American Cable Company from my principals, Messrs. Schlagintwert Co. of
Duesseldorf, namely, 'Apply assistance Brown of Moukden'. I presume
from aforesaid cable my Co. may already have had relations with your
esteemed Firma. My arrival in Moukden may be expected within a few days
of receipt. Believe me, with high esteem and compliments,
"Your obedient servant,
"HlLDEBRAND SCHWAB.
_"Postscriptum_.--Also representative of the _Illustrirte Vaterland u.
Colonien_."
"Tear it up, Jack. No doubt we shall be away when he comes."
"Who are Schlagintwert, Father?"
"You remember those automatic couplings we tried on the Harbin section
three or four years ago----"
"The ones that took two men to fasten and four to release?" said Jack,
laughing.
"Exactly. Well, they were Schlagintwert's."
At this moment the clang of a gong, followed by the thud of a drum,
sounded through the streets.
"They're closing the gates," said Jack. "I think I'll go to bed,
Father; I'm pretty tired."
"Good-night, then! I shan't be long after you. I've a little more
writing to do. Send Hi Lo in with some lemonade."
*CHAPTER II*
*Mr. Wang and a Constable*
The Flowing Tide--Backsheesh--At the Window--Hu Hang--Quis
Custodiet?--Mr. Wang's Grip
Mr. Brown, like many another active and enterprising Englishman, had
left home as a young man and done business in many parts of the globe.
He was a struggling merchant in Shanghai when Jack, his elder son, was
born. Nine years later he seized a promising opening in Vladivostok,
and removed thither with his family, now increased by another boy and a
girl. When Jack was eleven he was sent to school in England, being
shortly afterwards followed home by his mother, sister, and brother.
Then, at the age of fifteen, he was recalled by his father, who wished
for his assistance in a new business he was starting in Moukden. Jack
was nothing loth; he had a great admiration for his father, and an
adventurous spirit of his own. He had done fairly well at school; never
a "swot", still less a "smug", he had carried off a prize or two for
modern languages, and counted a prize bat and a silver cup among his
trophies. Everybody liked him; he always "played the game".
Mr. Brown had at first prospered exceedingly in Moukden. His business
had been originally that of a produce broker; but when the Russians
extended their railway and began to develop Port Arthur, he added branch
after branch, and soon had many irons in the fire. He supplied the
Russian authorities with innumerable things, from corn to building
stones; he had large contracts with them in connection with their great
engineering feat, the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway, and in
this part of his business Jack had taken a special interest, picking up
thus a considerable knowledge of railway plant, locomotives, and other
details. Being a man of absolute integrity, respected and trusted by
the natives, Mr. Brown before long won the confidence of the officials
with whom he came in contact. But he was a shrewd student of affairs as
well as a man of business. He had foreseen the outbreak of war, and
viewed with amazement the careless assurance of the Russian attitude
towards the "yellow monkeys", deemed so insignificant. Making many
friends among the Russians, he saw much to admire in them: their
kindliness and abounding hospitality, their perseverance in face of
obstacles, their vital faith in their country's destiny. With the
Japanese his personal relations had not been so intimate; but he had
watched their progress from afar with the keenness of a clear-eyed
observer, and he knew that when the trial came, the Russians would find
the little men of Nippon no mean foes.
Events proved the accuracy of his forecast. The Russian fleet was
bottled up, the Yalu crossed, Port Arthur was already beleaguered, and
Stackelberg's attempt to relieve it had failed. Mr. Brown talked with
some of the wounded who had been sent back from the Yalu to Moukden, and
were now in hospital in a Buddhist monastery near the outer wall. They
were not downcast: they spoke of being outnumbered and unprepared; when
General Kuropatkin's army was complete the tide would turn, and then----
But he got them to talk of their actual experiences in battle. Some of
them had been within arm's-length of their enemies in a bayonet charge;
and what he learnt of the eager joy, the buoyant audacity, displayed by
the Japanese, strengthened his belief that, given equal generalship,
equal numbers, equal equipment, such a spirit could scarcely be matched,
and was bound to lead them to victory.
Prudent but not alarmist, Mr. Brown considered how the war would affect
him. The Japanese were pressing northward; should Port Arthur fall, the
besieging army would be able to strengthen Marshal Oyama's forces in the
field. If the Russians were compelled to withdraw from Manchuria, Mr.
Brown could hardly hope to save his business, and it behoved him to set
his house in order. Another consideration weighed with him. The
development of the railway and the imminence of war had brought new men
on the scene. The Russian officers whom he knew so well were withdrawn,
and replaced by men of another stamp--men who were not all so
clean-handed as their predecessors. He soon became aware that he was
expected to grease their palms, and his uncompromising resistance to
corruption in every shape and form made him disliked. Several contracts
were given over his head; he found that in many cases the new-comer,
Sowinski, of whose antecedents nothing was known, was favoured at his
expense; and it was clear that these circumstances, together with the
general Russian distrust of England and all things English, boded ill
for his business. He was turned fifty years of age, and had amassed a
comfortable fortune. It appeared the part of discretion to wind up his
affairs before it was too late, and return to England, where a man of
his wealth and energy might find occupation for his maturer years. When
he had once made up his mind, Mr. Brown wasted no time. He proceeded to
put his design into effect, and now expected in a few days to leave
Moukden for home.
It was past midnight before he had finished sorting his papers. That
done, he smoked a final cigarette at the door, then shot the bolt,
turned out the lamp, and went to bed in the room next to Jack's.
Jack had found it somewhat difficult to get to sleep. He could not put
Wang Shih's plight from his thoughts. He had seen something of Chinese
methods; there came before his mind the vision of a poor wretch he had
once met on his way to execution, emaciated to a skeleton, one of his
legs blackened and withered, almost fleshless, and wanting its foot,
which had dropped off as the result of his being chained by the ankle to
a ring in his prison wall. Such evidence of inhumanity was horrible; it
made him shudder to think of Wang Shih, so good a fellow, so fine a
specimen of manhood, suffering and dying thus. And he admired the
Chinaman's fortitude, his loyalty to his family, his refusal to avail
himself of means of escape lest his people should suffer. Could not
something even yet be done for him? Jack did not wish to complicate
matters; but, after all, they were on the eve of departure, and he knew
his father well enough to be sure that he would not refuse to lend a
helping hand if required. But puzzle as he might, he could see no way
of saving both Wang Shih and his family, and the problem was still
unsolved when he at length fell into a troubled sleep.
Suddenly he awoke. The night was very close, and at the first moment he
thought his waking was due to the heat. But then he heard a slight
scratching at his left. He raised himself on his elbow to listen; he had
never seen or heard mice in the house. The scratching continued; it was
very close at hand. Surely at that time of night it could not be anyone
scratching at the paper window? He got out of bed; it was too dark to
see anything; he put his ear against the thin paper. The noise was
certainly caused by the moving of a finger-nail.
"Who is there?" he asked softly in Chinese.
"Wang Shih, sir."
"Mr. Wang! You've escaped, then. All right! I'll come to the door."
On the way he went into his father's room, and touched him on the elbow.
"Hey! Who's that? What's the matter, Jack?"
"Wang Shih is outside, Father."
"By Jove! What does he want?"
"I don't know. He has evidently escaped."
"Send him about his business. I can't be mixed up in this sort of
thing."
"You might see him, Father. He wouldn't have come unless he saw some
way of getting off without harming anyone."
"Well, well! Light the lamp, and let him in. I'll slip on my
dressing-gown and follow you."
Jack went to the door, opened it, and was confronted, not by one big
form, as he expected, but by two.
"Who is with you, Mr. Wang?"
"Mr. Hu."
"Who is Mr. Hu? Come inside both of you, and let me lock the door."
The two Chinamen entered, blinking in the light of the little oil lamp
Jack had lit.
"Now, Mr. Wang, explain. Who is Mr. Hu?"
"He is Hu Hang, the constable, sir."
"The constable!" exclaimed Jack, now recognizing the low brow and shifty
eyes.
"Yes; I had to bring him."
"What's this, what's this?" said Mr. Brown, coming from his bedroom.
"What you two piecee man makee this-side?"
Like almost all English merchants, he had found Chinese too much for
him, and in his intercourse with the natives made use of pidgin English,
the lingua franca of the Chinese coast.
There was a world of humility and apology in Wang Shih's kowtow.
"My lun wailo," he said. "My no wantchee catchee killum. Muchee
bobbely yamen-side. Allo piecee fightey-man bimeby look-see Wang Shih;
no can wailo outside that-time."
His exceptional size was certainly against him. It was clear that
without some disguise the man could not hope to escape from the city.
"Yes, that's all very well," said Mr. Brown reflectively. Then turning
suddenly to the second man: "But what this piecee man makee this-side?"
"He Hu Hang; muchee bad policeyman, galaw!"
"Policeyman! Yes, but what-for policeyman he come this-side too?"
"Hu Hang he my policeyman. He watchee my. My hittee Hu Hang velly
muchee plenty hard, hai-yah! Hu Hang plenty silly top-side; my tinkee
lun wailo chop-chop. 'Stoppee, stoppee!' say Hu Hang; 'what-for you
makee leavee my this-side?' Ch'hoy! My tinkee Hu Hang belongey muchee
leason. Hu Hang lun wailo all-same."
Mr. Brown still looked puzzled.
"Don't you see, Father," broke in Jack, "Mr. Wang couldn't leave the
poor wretch to bear the brunt of his escape. They would have cut his
head off as sure as a gun."
"Not much loss to his fellow-citizens, by the look of him," said Mr.
Brown, glancing critically at the scowling, sullen countenance of the
truant constable. "Still, it was uncommonly decent of Mr. Wang. We
must really do what we can to get him away. What you tinkee makee, Mr.
Wang?"
The man turned to Jack and addressed him in Chinese with much movement
of the hands and frequent glances at Hu Hang.
"He says that after I left him," explained Jack, "he heard that the
yamen runners were already ill-treating his people. That means, of
course, that they'll be stripped of all they have. His only chance was
to get away and join the Chunchuses. If he can only join Ah Lum, no
mandarin will be rash enough to interfere with them. Even the Viceroy
of Moukden is afraid of the brigands. Mr. Wang's only difficulty is to
get out of the city."
"A rather serious one. No doubt by this time they're keeping a pretty
sharp look-out for him, and"--glancing at the man's huge bulk and
muscular development--"he's not the kind of man to pass in a crowd."
The Chinaman, though unable to follow Mr. Brown's English, had gathered
the gist of what he said. He spoke again to Jack.
"If only we can lend him a cart, he says, and a new tunic and
pantaloons, he hasn't much doubt of being able to get through. We can
surely manage that, Father."
"Well, it's risky; but I can't see the man come to grief if it can be
helped."
That Wang Shih understood this was clear, for his face beamed, and he
kowtowed with every mark of gratitude.
"But what about the constable?" said Mr. Brown to Jack. "Suppose he
cuts up rough?" Turning to Wang Shih, he said: "Supposey policeyman
makee bobbely; what you do that-time?"
Mr. Wang grinned. He took the constable by the scruff of the neck and
held him half-throttled at arm's-length.
"Ch'hoy! My keepee Mr. Hu allo-time long-side: he plenty muchee 'flaid,
savvy my belongey plenty stlong, galaw!"
He gave the gasping wretch a final shake. Mr. Brown was satisfied. The
demonstration was complete.
*CHAPTER III*
*Deported*
Mesalliance--An Outing--Bonbons--"Mr. Blown"--A Northern
Frontier--Bandit and Patriot--Hi Lo--Arrested--Monsieur Brin offers
Condolences--Old Scores--General Bekovitch--Short Notice--The General
loses Patience
"Ah! I disturb you, Mr. Brown. I always disturb somebody. I disturb
myself! Therefore I go; another time, another time."
"Not a bit of it, Monsieur. Sit down; I shall be through with these
papers in five minutes. What will you drink? We have a fair
selection."
"Lemonade, my dear Mr. Brown, nothing but lemonade. It is the cool
drink."
"Hi Lo, wailo fetchee lemonade for Monsieur."
"Allo lightee, sah," said a little fellow of some thirteen years,
bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, a smiling Chinese boy.
Monsieur Anatole Brin, correspondent of the _Soleil_, sat down in a cane
chair and wiped his perspiring bald pate with a yellow silk
handkerchief. Mr. Brown continued to sort his papers. It was not
possible for Monsieur Brin to sit speechless.
"Ah! Mr. Brown, you have things to do. You do not suffer, as we
others, from nostalgia--the home-sickness, you understand? I sigh for
Paris, for the boulevards, the cafes, the Opera, for anything, anything,
but this Moukden. It is five weeks that I am here; I have my paper, my
pencils, my authorization; I have presented to the Viceroy my letter of
credit, my photograph, as it is ordained. I have the red band on my
arm; you see it: the letters B.K., correspondent of war; also Chinese
arabesques, one says they mean 'Him who spies out the military things!'
and here I am still in Moukden. I spy out no military things; I broil
myself with sun, choke myself with dust; it is not possible to go to the
south, where the war is made; no, it is permitted to do anything but
what I am sent for; I become meagre with disappointment."
"Cheer up! Yours is a hard lot, no doubt. The modern general has no
liking for you correspondents. But you will get your chance, no doubt,
in time. The Japanese are coming north. There has been a fight at
Wa-fang-ho, I hear."
"What!" cried the Frenchman, starting up. "A battle and I not there! I
hear of no battle. Colonel Pestitch hear of none. I ask him just now.
Does he tell me lie--prevaricate?"
"He probably knows nothing about it. I knew it through a Chinaman
yesterday. The natives outdo the telegraph, Monsieur, especially the
telegraph with a censor at one end. But, in fact, I have more than once
heard the result of an engagement before even the military authorities."
Monsieur Brin walked up and down the little office impatiently twisting
his moustache.
"Ah! It is abominable--but yes, abominable. Of what good that France
is the ally of Russia? I might be Japanese, or Englishman, with no
alliance at all. Why did I quit Paris? To put on this odious red
badge, like a convict. For what? To promenade myself about Moukden,
from day to day, from week to week, in prey to hundred Chinese diseases,
subject to thousand Chinese odours! Ah, quelle malaise, quel
desappointement, quel spleen!"
"You're in low spirits to-day, Monsieur. Why don't you go about the
country and see the sights?"
"The sights! I have seen them. I have seen the tombs. They do not
equal the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame. Pouah! My throat
fills itself with dust, or my feet stick fast in the mud. For the rest,
if I go farther I fall into the hands of the Koungouzes, the brigands;
they have asperity; I have respect for my skin."
"Look here, Monsieur, this won't do. You'll make yourself ill if you
take things so hardly. What do you say to this, now? My boy is going
some fifteen miles out to a farm, to see some friends of ours--Chinese,
you understand. Why not go with him and see something of the Chinese at
home? Our friend Mr. Wang has an interesting family; you'll enjoy it,
and get material for one article at least for the _Soleil_."
"Ah! it is an idea. We go--how?"
"On ponies. They will put you up for the night. You can return in the
cool to-morrow morning."
"It is an idea. It please me. There is no risk?"
"None, I should think. You can take a revolver, but Jack is pretty well
known. Hi Lo, tell Mr. Jack I want him."
In a few seconds Jack entered. He shook hands cordially with Monsieur
Brin, whom he had seen once or twice since his arrival with a letter of
introduction to Mr. Brown.
"Jack, Monsieur Brin is making himself ill for want of something to do.
Take him with you and introduce him to Wang Shih's people. I think
he'll like them."
"I'll be glad, I'm sure. Will you come, Monsieur?"
"With pleasure, to pass the time."
"I am starting immediately. Hi Lo, saddle a pony for Monsieur, quick."
The little fellow, son of Mr. Brown's compradore, ran off, and returned
in five minutes.
"Pony allo lightee, sah."
"Good boy! Now, Monsieur, shall we start?"
"Hope you'll have a pleasant day, Monsieur," said Mr. Brown. "Look me
up in the morning, and tell me how you got on."
"Good-bye! Thanks! I have not disturb you--busy man like you?"
"Not a bit. Good-bye!"
Mounted on neat little ponies, Monsieur Brin and Jack set off through
the city. To the Frenchman's surprise, Jack did not choose the main
thoroughfare direct to one of the eastern gates, but turned first into
one side street, then into another. They were dusty, dirty, crowded
with people, pigs, and poultry, and Monsieur Brin held his nose and
began to expostulate.
"Wait a little, Monsieur," said Jack. "We are coming to my street. I
never miss it when I come in this direction."
They came by and by to a street differing in no wise from the rest,
except that in one of the paper-windowed houses a school was held. No
sooner had Jack appeared at the end of the street than the sing-song of
children at lessons ceased as by magic, and out of the school flocked a
score of little ones, who rushed towards him with loud and happy cries
of greeting, scattering the fowls and pigs and kicking up clouds of dust
as they ran.
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Monsieur Brin, reining up his pony to avoid
trampling them.
"Don't be alarmed," said Jack, laughing. "They are my little
pensioners."
The biggest of the children were already swarming round the pony. Jack
put his hand into his pocket. Instantly there was a yell of delight.
Then suddenly a shower of sweetmeats fell on the outskirts of the crowd,
among the smallest of the children. There was a merry scramble; before
the first handful was picked up a second was scattered in the opposite
direction, and soon every child was on all-fours, hunting for treasure
in the thick brown dust. Meanwhile every door in the street had become
blocked with smiling elders,--toothless old grandames, brawny workmen,
women, girls, all enjoying the scene, chattering among themselves, some
of them giving pleasant salutation to Jack. His pockets at last were
empty; his pony was becoming impatient; and, laughingly threatening to
run the youngsters down, he moved on amid high-pitched cries of "Come
again soon, Mr. Blown!"
Monsieur Brin was vastly entertained. The children's antics were very
droll, and Monsieur was a man of sentiment.
"My word!" he said. "Here is something at last for the readers of the
_Soleil_. I have no victories of war to write; I write of a victory of
peace; how a young Englishman has won the hearts of all a street of
Chinese; how to them he is no longer foreign devil but sweet-stuff
saint. Eh? How became you so great a friend?"
"Oh, it is very simple. I took a fancy one day to a little toddler;
picked him up out of the way of a boisterous pig, and gave him a sweet
to comfort him. Other children were looking on; next time I came this
way a group of them stood with their fingers in their mouths and their
eyes on my pockets. I flung them a sweet or two; they picked them up
and scampered away as though half-scared; but they were on the watch for
me after that, and now, as you see, it has become an institution. They
have very easy-going schoolmasters here; as soon as my nose is seen at
the street end the word is given and out they troop, and the elders know
the sounds and come to see the fun. They are all very good friends of
mine."
Leaving the narrow streets, they came at length to the outer gate,
guarded jointly by several sleepy Chinese soldiers and a Russian sentry.
Jack was well known, and the two riders passed through without
difficulty.
Having a little business to settle with Mr. Wang senior, Jack had
offered, before Wang Shih left Mr. Brown's house in the small hours of
that morning, to ride out and inform the family of his escape. A ride
of some fifteen miles brought the two within sight of the farm. It was
a brick building of one story, like all Manchurian houses, with
cow-byres, pig-sties, and poultry-houses clinging to the wall. The
farmstead was surrounded by lofty wooden palings, and Monsieur Brin's
attention was attracted by two fantastic warlike figures roughly daubed
in red and green on either side of the great gate.
"Oh!" said Jack, in reply to his question, "they're supposed to scare
away evil spirits."
"He! Are not the dogs enough?"
The appearance of the two strangers was hailed by a rush of dogs, large
and small, yelping and barking fiercely, but without malice. The noise
brought the inmates to the door: an old Chinaman and his wife, and two
girls of eighteen or thereabouts, whose regular features, soft brown
eyes, and delicately ruddy complexion made an instant impression upon
the Frenchman. He doffed his hat with the most elegant and graceful
ease, and was not disconcerted when this unaccustomed mode of salutation
set the girls giggling. The mistress led the visitors into the best
room, lofty, airy, clean, with paper windows; along one side a broad
platform some thirty inches from the floor. This was the k'ang, a
hollow structure containing a flue warmed by the smoke and hot air from
the kitchen-fire; it served as a table by day and a bed by night. A
little graven image occupied a tinselled niche; and, the kitchen-fire
not being required in hot weather, a kettle stood on a small brazier,
boiling water for the indispensable tea.
The old people were greatly distressed at the disgrace that had befallen
their only son; still more at his approaching fate, for to die without a
male child to honour one's ashes is the worst of ills to a Chinaman.
They were not aware of his escape; but when Jack told them that he was
now at large, and had gone to join the great Chunchuse chief Ah Lum,
they all, parents and girls, clapped their hands, feeling now secure
against ill-treatment by the Chinese officials. The chief would send
word from his head-quarters to his agent in Moukden that Wang Shih was
under his protection, and the terror in which the brigand was held was
so great that the farmer's family would remain unmolested.
Jack asked where was the encampment of the Chunchuse band. It varied,
said the old man. To avoid capture by the Russians, the chief
frequently shifted his quarters. His band was constantly on the move
between Kirin and the Shan-yan-alin mountains, going so swiftly and
secretly that no one knew where it would turn up next. One day it would
be on the Hun-ho; a detachment of Cossacks would be sent to cut it off,
only to find that it had disappeared. Two or three days later it might
be heard of several hundred li away, on the Sungari.
"Yes," said the old man. "Ah Lum is a great leader, and a great hater
of the Russians; but he hates the Japanese nearly as much. He would
drive all foreigners out of the country. I am glad my son is with him,
though I fear he will not be able to return home until the war is over."
Jack and Monsieur Brin spent some time in rambling about the farm, the
latter smoking innumerable cigarettes, making copious notes, and every
now and then breaking forth into enthusiastic praise of the eldest
daughter, who he declared reminded him of his fiancee in the boulevard
Raspail. He watched with absorbed interest the Chinese way of making
tea: the green leaves placed in a broad saucer and covered with boiling
water; another saucer inverted over the first, and pushed back a little
way after the tea had "drawn", the beverage being sipped through the
interstice. The old farmer insisted on his guests going to see his
coffin, a very handsome box thoughtfully provided by his son and kept in
an outhouse, where Mr. Wang frequently spent an hour in meditation on
mortality. Afterwards Brin was initiated into the complexities of
fan-tan--a guessing game that was prolonged far into the night. They
slept comfortably on the k'ang, and left about eight next morning very
well pleased with their visit.
The sun was already hot, and they rode at a walking pace, partly to
avoid the clouds of choking dust which trotting would have raised. They
were still several miles from the city when Jack saw a small Chinese boy
hastening in their direction.
"That's young Hi Lo," he said, as the figure came more clearly into
view. "I wonder what he is coming this way for! Surely Wang Shih has
not been caught after all?"
The boy had broken into a run, and when he met them Jack saw at once by
his face that he bore grave news. But he was not prepared for what the
little fellow told him in breathless gasps. Soon after daybreak a squad
of Siberian infantry had appeared at Mr. Brown's house, put the merchant
under arrest, ransacked his papers, and carried him off a prisoner. Hi
Lo's father, the compradore, happened to be at a window of the front
room as the soldiers came up; and suspecting, with Chinese shrewdness
and dislike of the soldiers, that something was amiss, he had run to the
inner sanctum and removed the most valuable papers from the safe before
the Russians entered. But knowing that he was likely to be searched, he
had handed the papers to Hi Lo, hoping that the boy would escape the
visitors' attentions. Mr. Brown made a vigorous protest against the
Russians' action, and demanded by what authority they arrested him and
the crime with which he was charged; but the officer in command refused
to give him any information. Before he was marched off, he was allowed
a few words with his compradore, a servant of many years' standing.
Learning that the papers were for the present secure, he had managed,
without making his meaning clear to the Russian officer, to direct that
they should be handed to Jack. They were for the most part vouchers from
the Russian authorities for goods supplied; if not concealed, they would
certainly be seized, and Mr. Brown knew how impossible it was to make a
Russian official disgorge plunder. The whole thing was probably a
mistake, at the worst a plot which could no doubt be shown up. The
first necessity was to put the securities out of harm's way; then Jack
could take whatever steps might be called for to obtain his father's
release, if he were still detained after he had met the charge against
him.
The boy told his story rapidly in pidgin English; not that Jack did not
understand Chinese, but because, like all Chinese servants, Hi Lo made
it a point of pride to use his master's language. Monsieur Brin could
make nothing of the narrative.
"What is the matter with you, my friend?" he asked, seeing the look of
concern on Jack's face.
"An annoying mistake, Monsieur. My father has been arrested by the
Russians."
"Oho! What has he been doing?"
"Nothing, of course. Some official has been too zealous, I suppose. I
must ride on, Monsieur."
"But may not you be arrested, too?"
"I don't think so. If they intended it, they would already have sent a
detachment after me. You may be sure their spies know very well where I
have been. No, I'm in no danger; but anyhow I must find out what it all
means, so if you don't mind, Monsieur, we'll hurry on and chance the
dust."
"Certainly, my friend. My word! this is an unfortunate end to our
pleasant little picnic."
"You have the papers, Hi Lo?"
The boy produced them from some pouch in his wadded cotton garments.
Jack looked them over. They represented a considerable sum of money.
He did not care to have them about him, in case he should be searched.
What could he do with them? For a moment he thought of giving them into
the care of Monsieur Brin, but on reflection he hesitated to involve the
correspondent in his difficulties. Hi Lo was a clever little fellow,
devoted to him; probably he would be the best custodian for the present.
He gave the papers back to the boy.
"Keep them carefully, Hi Lo. Don't come near our house till I send for
you."
Then he put his pony to a canter, and with Brin by his side hastened on
to the city. At the moment, as Jack knew, there were few Russian
soldiers in Moukden. General Kuropatkin was at the front, somewhere
south of Liao-yang; Admiral Alexeieff was at Harbin. The arrest must
have been made in their absence, and probably unknown to them, by the
local military authorities. But, knowing his father's innocence, Jack
expected to find that he had already been released.
On entering the city he said good-bye to Monsieur Brin, who was full of
condolence.
"If I can do anything, tell me," he said. "Unhappily I cannot
telegraph; the soldiers have monopoly of the wires; and, besides, there
is the terrible censor. But if I can do anything----"
"Don't worry, Monsieur. It will be all right. My father is a British
subject; and though the Russians don't love us just now, they won't do
anything very dreadful, I imagine. Many thanks! I will let you know
how things stand."
He rode straight home, and, finding that the house was shut and locked,
sought the compradore at his cottage at the rear of the compound behind.
Learning from him further details of the arrest, he at once set off for
the military head-quarters near the railway-station. He knew several of
the Russian officers, but those to whom he spoke had heard nothing of
the singular occurrence. One of them offered to make enquiries. He
returned by and by with the information that the order for Mr. Brown's
arrest had been given by General Bekovitch. This was not cheering, for
General Bekovitch, as Jack knew, was an officer who under a surface
polish and refinement was thoroughly unscrupulous, and one indeed whose
enmity Mr. Brown had incurred by his uncompromising attitude towards the
official methods of corruption. Some time before this, when Bekovitch
was a colonel, he had transferred to the Pole, Sowinski, a contract
which had been placed in Mr. Brown's hands. The latter protested, and
Bekovitch's superior disallowed his action and gave him metaphorically a
rap on the knuckles. The colonel was deeply chagrined, both at the
reprimand and at the loss of the secret commission arranged with
Sowinski. He was now promoted major-general; his superior was gone; and
Jack could hardly doubt that he had seized the opportunity to pay off
his grudge against the English merchant. Jack shrank somewhat from a
meeting with the general, but his indignation outweighed every other
feeling, and, plucking up his courage, he made his way to the luxurious
railway-carriage which served Bekovitch for quarters.
He had to wait some time before he gained admittance to the general's
presence. When at last he was invited to enter, he found Bekovitch
lolling on a divan smoking a cigarette, a champagne bottle at his elbow.
He was a tall fair man, inclining to stoutness, with a long moustache
and carefully-trimmed beard, and looked in his white uniform a very
dignified representative of the military bureaucracy.
Jack's residence as a boy in Vladivostok had given him a good colloquial
knowledge of Russian, so that he had no difficulty in addressing the
general in his own language.
"I have recently heard, sir, of my father's arrest," he said, "and I
have come to ask if you will be good enough to tell me where he is and
what he is charged with."
"You are Mr. Brown's son? How do you do?" said the general suavely. "I
am sorry for you. It is a bad business altogether. I should be quite
justified in refusing to give you information, but I am, of course,
willing to stretch a point in a case like this--father and son, you
know. Well, I regret to say that I had to arrest your father for giving
military information to the Japanese."
"But, sir, that is ridiculous. My father never did such a thing. He
has had no connection, not even a business one, with the Japanese; he
doesn't like them. Besides, he would never think of doing anything
underhand. No one who knows him could even imagine it."
If Bekovitch felt the personal application, he did not show it.
"Very creditable, very creditable indeed. A loyal son; excellent. I
should be the last to undeceive you; therefore we will say no more about
it. Let me offer you a cigarette."
"No, thank you, sir. Really the matter cannot end thus. What evidence
have you against my father?"
The general shrugged.
"Well, if you will---- We had our suspicions; your father is an
Englishman, you know; we examined his papers and found proof of our
suspicions--full, conclusive. There is no doubt at all about it."
"But you will allow my father to clear himself. I am sure he can do
so."
"We have no time for long-winded processes," replied the general,
throwing away the end of his cigarette and lighting another. "Moukden,
as you must be aware, young man, is under martial law."
"Then what has become of my father, sir? Where is he?"
"We might have shot him, you know." The general's manner was suaver
than ever. "But we are a merciful people. Your father has merely
been--deported."
At this Jack felt that either there was a hole in the net woven around
his father, or the Russians had feared to proceed to extremities owing
to his British nationality.
"Well, sir," he said, "I shall, of course, appeal to our government."
"Certainly, my young friend, certainly! But on what ground? See, I
recognize your anxiety; it is perfectly natural; for that reason I am
patient with you. But we must be the judges as to who shall stay in
Manchuria, who shall leave. Your father is now on his way to--to the
frontier. You will follow without loss of time. I give you twelve
hours to quit the city. A pass shall be made out for you; you will go
by to-night's train to Harbin."
General Bekovitch's manner was as urbane and polite as ever, but there
was in his tone a something that warned the boy that further protest
would be useless. Still, he must make one more effort to discover his
father's whereabouts.
"Has my father gone to Harbin?" he asked.
"I have told you, my young friend, he has been deported. I can tell you
no more."
"But why not tell me his route, General Bekovitch? He was in any case
leaving for England in a few days. If I am to go to Harbin I should like
to know whether there is any possibility of overtaking my father and
proceeding to Europe with him."
For answer the general summoned an attendant.
"Michel Sergeitch, show this young man out."
Jack gave him one look, then turned in silence towards the door.
"One moment," called the general after him. "As I said, a pass shall be
sent you. The train leaves at eight. If you are found here to-morrow,
you will be arrested and escorted as a prisoner to the frontier. That,
I may remark, is an unpleasant mode of travelling. Remember, eight
o'clock."
*CHAPTER IV*
*The Great Siberian Railway*
Duty and Inclination--A Domiciliary Visit--Monsieur Brin Protests--A
Reminder--The Ombeloke--Quandary--Salvage--A Fortune in Soles--Fellow
Passengers--From a Carriage Window--A Further Search--At the Sungari
Bridge--Off the Line--The Compradore's Brother--Consultation--A
Bargain--The Terms--The Last Load--In a Horse-box
Jack had rage in his heart as he walked back to the city. He was angry
and indignant, but even more alarmed. The general had told him little:
was that little the truth? What did he mean by "deported"? If Mr. Brown
had really been put across the frontier, why should the general have
refused to say by what route he had travelled? Jack feared that there
had been foul play, and his anxiety was none the less because he could
not imagine what form the foul play had taken.
His own position was awkward. He was homeless; in a few hours he was to
be packed like a bundle of goods into a train and carried away against
his will. His father might have preceded him to Europe; on the other
hand, he might not. Was he to leave Moukden thus, in uncertainty as to
his father's fate?
Thus perplexed and troubled in mind, he walked back to his house. At
the door he found Monsieur Brin in a state of desperation at his
inability to make head or tail of the compradore's pidgin English.
"Ha, my friend!" he exclaimed, "I am glad to see you; I must know the
worst; I come in haste, but the Chinese man speaks a language of
monkeys; I understand it not. Tell me what is arrived."
"I have seen General Bekovitch," replied Jack. "He told me almost
nothing. My father has been deported--for betraying secrets to the
Japanese, if you please! Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous,
so preposterous!"
"But that is all right. O.K. Deported! Mr. Brown is the happy man.
It would please me to be deported also. He goes back to Europe: that I
could accompany him!"
"But that is the point. Has he gone back to Europe? The general would
not tell me. And he is packing me off too! I have to leave by
to-night's train for Harbin, or he will put me under arrest."
"He! That is a scandal. I will expose it. I will write it all to my
redacteur. Ah! But I ask myself, will the redacteur publish my letter?
France is allied to Russia. A French publicist has to consider not
solely his own persuasions, but his duty to his country. I reflect: it
will be best actually to write nothing. But if, my friend, there needs
money, demand me; I can furnish hundred, hundred and fifty roubles: it
will be to me a pleasure."
"Many thanks, Monsieur! I do not think I shall need your assistance. I
told the general I shall appeal to our government. Unluckily we have no
consul here; the nearest, I suppose, is at Shanghai; and being sent off
to Harbin, I don't know when I shall have an opportunity of
communicating with our authorities."
"Truly, it is a difficult situation. And your goods here: what will
they become?"
"They'll be confiscated, I suppose. As you see, I am locked out.
Luckily we have nothing of any great value. My father sent off in
advance all that he wished to keep, and they can't touch his account at
the Hong-Kong and Shanghai bank."
He said nothing about the securities in Hi Lo's possession, not from any
want of faith in the Frenchman's good-will, but not entirely trusting
his discretion.
"They have no right to lock me out," continued Jack. "And as General
Bekovitch said he'd send me a pass for the train, he must suppose he'll
find me here. So if Mr. Hi will put his shoulder to the door, I think
we'll force the lock and see what they have been doing."
The stalwart compradore made short work of the fastenings. Accompanied
by Monsieur Brin and the Chinaman, Jack entered his father's house.
There were manifest signs of ransacking. The floor of the office was
strewn with papers; in the dining-room the drawers had been emptied; and
a large oaken press, a fine specimen of Chinese cabinet-making on which
Mr. Brown set much store, had been forced open. They were contemplating
the dismal scene when Hi Lo came running in.
"Masta," he said hurriedly, "thlee fo' piecee Lusski walkee chop-chop
this-side."
[Illustration: A Search Party]
A few moments later the house was entered by four Siberian infantrymen,
headed by a lieutenant and accompanied by a tall, fair, hook-nosed man,
at the sight of whom Jack started. A light flashed upon him. Anton
Sowinski was the Russian Pole who had been doing his best to ruin Mr.
Brown's business, and had so bitterly resented Mr. Brown's successes.
It was he, too, who had instigated the charge trumped up against Wang
Shih in revenge for a business defeat. Was it unlikely that Sowinski
had been the agent in this other trumped-up charge of espionage? If
not, what was his business now?
"I have come," said the lieutenant, "to bring you the pass promised by
General Bekovitch. Here it is."
He drew a large unsealed envelope from his pocket, and took from it a
paper which he proceeded to read. It stipulated that Mr. John Brown,
junior, was to leave Moukden by the train for Harbin at 8 p.m., en route
for Europe. Replacing it in the envelope, the officer laid this upon the
table and said:
"I regret, Monsieur, that I have a disagreeable duty to perform. I am
ordered to search the house and everybody in it. Mr. Brown is known to
have been in possession of certain vouchers which are now forfeit to my
government. They could not be found when he was arrested; the conclusion
is that they are in your possession. I must ask you to turn out your
pockets."
"I have no papers," said Jack, "and I protest."
"I am sorry. I have my orders to carry out. Resistance is useless."
"Oh! I shall not resist. Search away."
The lieutenant had already posted a soldier at the back entrance, and
had sent another man to bring into the room anyone whom he might find on
the premises. As Jack was being searched, Hi Lo was brought in; he had
slipped away when the Russians entered. Jack hoped that the boy had had
time to hide the papers, for though the amount they represented was
small in comparison with his father's total fortune, it was yet
considerable in itself, and he was anxious to save it, not merely for
its own sake, but because without it he would have no means of carrying
through a plan he had already dimly determined on. Hi Lo's face was
void of all expression. There were now in the room, besides the
Russians, Jack himself, Monsieur Brin, the compradore, and his son. The
door was locked.
Jack was searched from top to toe. Nothing was found on him save
letters of no importance. The compradore and Hi Lo were examined in
turn; they submitted meekly, and Jack almost betrayed his relief when he
saw that the papers had not been discovered on the boy. Then the
officer turned to Monsieur Brin, glancing at the red band on his arm.
"But I am a Frenchman," exclaimed the angry correspondent. "Why do you
search me? I have nothing. I know nothing."
"I find you in Mr. Brown's house. I have orders to search everybody. I
hope you will make no difficulty, Monsieur."
"Difficulty! It is you that make difficulty. It is an insult, an
indignity. I am an ally; peste! for what good to be an ally if I am
thus treated as an enemy! But I do not resist; no, I resign myself.
From no one but an ally would I endure such an indignity."
"I am exceedingly sorry, Monsieur. General Bekovitch, in giving orders,
of course did not contemplate for a moment the case of a French
correspondent being present; but my instructions are positive. I have
no choice but to carry them out."
"Well, I protest still once more. I will make the French nation know
the price they pay for this so agreeable alliance."
Monsieur Brin was searched. No papers were found on him except his
pocket-book, a lady's photograph, and several letters, which the officer
glanced through, the Frenchman fuming with impatience and indignation.
At the conclusion of the search the lieutenant threw a meaning glance at
Sowinski, whose attitude throughout had convinced Jack of the
correctness of his surmise. The Pole's presence was in itself a
sufficient proof of his personal interest in Mr. Brown's fate. An hour
was spent in making a further examination of the scattered papers;
nothing incriminating being found, the lieutenant gave his men the order
to march. At the last moment he glanced at the envelope on the table.
"Take care of it, Monsieur," he said; "it would be awkward for you if it
were lost."
When the party had gone, Monsieur Brin fairly exploded with wrath.
English was too slow for him; a rapid torrent of French came from his
quivering lips. But Jack's attention was diverted from the Frenchman by
the strange antics of Hi Lo, who was dancing round his father, his face
beaming with delight.
"You hid the papers?" said Jack. "You are a good boy. Where are they?"
The boy pointed to the envelope on the table.
"What do you mean?"
"Masta, look-see. Masta, look-see."
Jack lifted the envelope. The boy's glee puzzled him. Opening it, he
took out the Russian pass, and with it half a dozen thin slips of paper
written upon in Russian and French. He could hardly believe his eyes.
They were the very papers for which the officer had sought so diligently
but in vain.
"How is this? What does it mean?" he said in blank amazement.
"Hai-yah! Velly bad Lusski man look-see Masta; allo piecee bad man
look-see all-same; no can tinkee Hi Lo plenty smart inside. Hai-yah!
Allo piecee Lusski man look-see that-side; my belongey this-side, makee
no bobbely; cleep-cleep 'long-side table; my hab papers allo lightee:
ch'hoy! he belong-ey chop-chop inside ombeloke; Lusski no savvy nuffin
'bout nuffin, galaw!"
Jack burst into a roar of laughter, and translated the boy's pidgin to
the bewildered Frenchman. While the Russians were intent on searching
Jack, and their backs were towards Hi Lo, the boy, knowing that his turn
must come, seized the opportunity to slip the precious papers into the
unclosed envelope on the table. Monsieur Brin flung up his hands and
began to pirouette, then stopped to laugh, and held his shaking sides.
"Hi! hi! admirable! Excellentissime! Bravo! bravo! Ma foi! Comme il
est adroit! Comme il est spirituel! Ho! ho! Tiens! Le gars merite une
forte recompense. Voila!"
In his excess of enthusiasm he took a silver dollar from his pocket,
spun it, and handed it to Hi Lo. The boy was sober in an instant. He
gravely handed the coin back.
"No wantchee Fa-lan-sai man he dollar," he said.
Brin looked to Jack for an explanation.
"He is much obliged, but would rather not. You made a little mistake,
Monsieur. You can't offend a Chinaman of this sort more than by
offering him money. He is, indeed, a clever little chap. I'll take
care he doesn't go unrewarded."
"Ha! That is another point for my chapter on the characteristics of the
Chinese. But now, my friend, what will you do?"
"Really, Monsieur, I don't know. I must talk it over with the
compradore."
"Very well then, I leave you. I go to write notes of this most
interesting episode. I begin to enjoy war correspondence. You go at
eight? I will be at the station to say adieu."
Jack spent more than an hour in serious consultation with Hi An, the
compradore, a man of forty, who had served his father for nearly twenty
years, and was heart and soul devoted to his interests. There was no
question but that Jack must leave Moukden that night, and Hi An advised
him to go straight to Moscow and take the first opportunity of
communicating with the British Foreign Office. Meanwhile the compradore
himself would do what he could to trace the whereabouts of his master.
But this course Jack was very unwilling to adopt. In the first place,
he had his father's instructions to realize the securities, so cleverly
saved by Hi Lo. Then there was the consignment of flour which he hoped
might run the Japanese blockade and come safe to harbour at Vladivostok.
If it should arrive it would be worth a large sum of money, and Jack was
not disposed to yield that a spoil to the Russians. Last and most
important consideration, he was oppressed by the mystery of his father's
fate. With the likelihood of innumerable delays on the congested
railway, he might be three weeks or a month reaching Moscow; he foresaw
difficulties in inducing the Foreign Office to move in a case where
there was so little to go upon; and, above all, it was unendurable to
think that his father might, for all he knew, be still near at hand, in
danger and distress.
He was already determined, then, that, leave Moukden if he must, he
would not leave Manchuria. But what could he do to secure his objects
and his own safety? He wondered whether the news of his father's arrest
had been telegraphed to Harbin and Vladivostok. That was unlikely, he
thought, for two reasons. It was well known that Mr. Brown had been
winding up his business; the Russian authorities, unless specially
informed, would not suppose that there was any plunder to be got apart
from what was found at Moukden. And the telegraph had been for months
past very much overworked, what with the heavy railway traffic and the
constant messages flashing to and fro between the principal depots in
Manchuria and between Manchuria and St. Petersburg. It was therefore
unlikely that the enforced departure of a Moukden merchant would be
considered of sufficient importance to communicate. If this reasoning
was correct, and Jack could contrive to reach Vladivostok before the
news filtered through, he might save the remnants of his father's
property, and turn the vouchers into negotiable securities. He would
then find himself in possession of considerable funds, which he might
use if necessary in tracking his father.
The first thing was to get to Vladivostok. The pass stipulated that he
should go through Harbin over the Siberian railway to Moscow. To reach
Vladivostok he must change trains at Harbin, and by that very fact
become a fugitive and an outlaw. Apparently General Bekovitch did not
intend to send him north under an escort; it probably never occurred to
him that with his father deported, his home broken up, Jack would make
an effort, in face of the definite order to quit the country, to remain.
But though no escort was provided, he would undoubtedly be watched; and
to slip away at Harbin in a direction the opposite of that intended
promised to be a matter of considerable difficulty and danger.
The compradore shook his head when Jack explained what he had in his
mind. Then, finding that his young master was determined, he did not
attempt to dissuade him, but set himself in earnest to talk over ways
and means. He had a brother in Harbin, a grain merchant, who had
dealings with the Russians. This man might be able to give Jack
information and assistance, and to him the compradore wrote a short note
of introduction. The next thing was to provide for the safety of the
Russian vouchers. Jack might be searched again _en route_, and it was
therefore inadvisable to carry them in his pocket. He pondered for a
time without finding any solution of the difficulty. He was sitting
with crossed legs, his hands clasping his knee, his eyes cast down.
Studying the heavy thick-soled boot he wore in summer, under stress of
Manchurian mud, he suddenly bethought himself.
"You can turn your hand to most things, Mr. Hi; do you think you could
split the sole of one of my boots and put it together again?"
"Of course, sir."
"That's the very thing, then. No one would ever think of taking my boot
to pieces."
Hi An very quickly and deftly performed the necessary operation.
Between the two parts of the split sole Jack placed the vouchers and
letter of introduction; then the compradore neatly stuck them together
again. He produced a roll of rouble notes, enough to pay preliminary
expenses and leave a margin for emergencies.
"There, Master," he said. "I have done all I can."
"You're a good fellow. I must trust to the chapter of accidents for the
rest. I may never see you again, Mr. Hi. If I come to grief, you will
do what you can to find my father?"
"I will, Master, if I have to trudge on foot all the way to Pekin to ask
help of the Son of Heaven himself."
Some minutes before eight o'clock Jack, by virtue of his pass, was
admitted without a ticket to the platform at which the train for Harbin
was drawn up. He had been compelled to take his farewell of Monsieur
Brin, the compradore, and Hi Lo outside, much to the Frenchman's
indignation. The line was very badly managed; the officials were
soldiers, with no technical acquaintance with railway management.
Trains were despatched from Moukden to Harbin, and from Harbin to
Moukden, at any time that suited the officials at either end, without
prearrangement, sometimes even without communication between the
stations. On this particular train there was no distinction of classes,
and Jack found himself one of some forty passengers packed into a
carriage built for thirty. The company was exceedingly mixed. Russian
officers were cheek by jowl with Chinese merchants; a huge long-bearded
Russian pope was wedged between a German commercial traveller and a
Sister with the red cross on her arm; at one end was a group of
chattering Greek camp-followers, who brought out a filthy pack of cards
long before the train started, and began a game of makao, which
continued, with intervals for squabbling and refreshment, all the way to
Harbin. Jack made himself as comfortable as he could in a corner, and
prepared to sleep if the close proximity of his fellow-passengers and
the stuffiness of the air allowed.
It was past nine o'clock before the train steamed out. Punctuality is a
virtue non-existent on the Siberian railway. The journey taxed Jack's
patience to the utmost. The line is single, doubled at intervals of five
versts to allow of the passage of trains in opposite directions. The
train was constantly being shunted into sidings, remaining sometimes for
hours, no one could tell why; and one of the most annoying features of
the constant stoppages was that the train, after running through a
station where the passengers would have been glad to obtain
refreshments, would come to a stand several versts beyond, where they
had nothing to do but kick their heels and look disconsolately out on
the country. On one of the sidings stood a goods train, two trucks of
which were loaded with a large gun; it had no doubt been injured by a
Japanese shell, and was being returned to arsenal for repair. In
another train Jack noticed a truck crowded with poor wretches who
appeared to be chained together--misdemeanants from the army, he
surmised, on their way to one of the penal settlements in Siberia. At
short intervals appeared the little brick huts of the soldiers guarding
the line, and occasionally a group of three or four of those
green-coated guards might be seen riding along at the foot of the
embankment on their stout Mongol ponies.
Jack had travelled many times along the line, but not recently, and he
was greatly interested in the amazing developments which it had
undergone. New buildings of brick seemed to have sprung up like
mushrooms along its course. Where formerly had been spacious fields of
kowliang--the long-stalked millet of the country--with Chinese fangtzes
few and far between, there were now wide bare stretches upon which
Russian industry was erecting storehouses, engine-sheds, tile-covered
residences for the officials. Some thirty-five miles from Moukden is
Tieling, which, when Jack's train passed through at three o'clock in the
morning--having taken just six hours to run that distance--seemed to be
nothing but a collection of scaffolding, with Chinese bricklayers
already at work, trowel in hand. Between Tieling and Harbin stretches
an immense plain, fertile for the most part, and hitherto left almost
unspoiled. Nowhere does the line pass through a Chinese village; these
were purposely avoided by the Russian engineers from motives of policy,
and in deference to native susceptibilities. They are for the most part
out of sight from the railway. All that can be seen is, on the right,
the broad rutty mandarin highway; on the left, a narrower road edging
interminable fields of kowliang. There are few stations between Moukden
and Harbin: at two, Tieling and Kai-chuang, the Russians had established
their base hospitals.
Hour after hour passed. Jack whiled away a good part of the time by
whittling sticks with his penknife, somewhat to the amusement of the
Russian army doctor who sat next to him, and who did not appear to
notice that the sticks were shaped to a definite size, and that, after
several had been thrown away, two or three were placed in Jack's pocket.
Many times the train was halted at a doubling to allow a troop train to
pass, filled with Russian soldiers on the way to the front, shouting,
singing, in the highest spirits. At one point an empty Red Cross train
stood on a siding, having emptied its freight of wounded men at one of
the hospitals.
During one of the stoppages the belaced official who acted as guard
politely requested Jack to step into the station-master's office, where
he was searched by one of the soldiers. He was thus left in no doubt
that he was under surveillance, and when he got back to his carriage he
found that his bag had been opened. He congratulated himself on his
forethought in concealing his papers so effectually in his boot.
At the moment of saying good-bye the compradore had given him a piece of
news that made him anxious to complete his journey. A Chinese employed
at the station had told him that Anton Sowinski had booked a seat by the
next day's train. It was by no means impossible that this train, if it
happened to carry any important passengers, would overtake and pass the
first somewhere on the line. The Pole was likely to spread the news of
Mr. Brown's arrest, and if he should succeed in getting to Vladivostok
before Jack the game would certainly be up.
At length, about forty-five hours after leaving Moukden, someone said
that Harbin was in sight, and there was instantly a movement and bustle
among the passengers.
"Keep your seat," said the doctor to Jack with a smile.
"Thanks! I know," said Jack with an answering smile.
The train slowed down, then stopped at the southern end of the bridge
over the Sungari river. It was as though the engine were parleying with
the sentry. On the right rose the barracks of the frontier guards,
surrounded by a loopholed wall. At the bridge end were two guns framed
in sand-bags, and watched by two sentinels. Across the river, above and
below the bridge, an immense boom prevented traffic either up or down.
While the train halted, an official came along the carriages, fastened
all the windows, locked all the doors; to open them before the bridge
was crossed entailed a heavy penalty. When all the passengers were thus
secured, and there was no chance of any Japanese spy throwing a bomb on
to the bridge, the train moved slowly on, passed more guns at the
farther end, and came to rest at the spacious station in the Russian
quarter of the town.
[Illustration: Map of Manchuria and part of Siberia]
A train from Vladivostok was expected during the afternoon, and the
composite train would leave for the west at nine o'clock. Jack went out
with the majority of the passengers into the buffet, which is one of the
admirable features of the Russian railway system, and ordered a good
meal. Then he looked over some illustrated papers, making no attempt to
leave the station, having noticed that he was still watched by one of
the train attendants. Time hung heavily; he took a nap on one of the
seats, and when he awoke found that the Vladivostok train had arrived,
and the night train for the west was being made up. Strolling out with
his bag, he showed his pass to an official, and by means of a liberal
tip secured a sleeping compartment to himself. He explained with many
yawns that, being tired out, he intended to turn in as soon as the train
started, and asked the man to arrange his bed and lock him in. The
attendant complied, and a few minutes later Jack noticed him in
conversation with the man under whose watchful eyes he had been all day.
The latter appeared satisfied and went away.
The train was late in starting; a high personage, it seemed, was
expected. Jack stood for some minutes at the door, watching the varied
crowd on the platform Suddenly he heard cheers; the high personage had
no doubt arrived. A warning bell rang; the officials called to the
passengers to take their seats. Jack took off his coat in full view
from the platform, then drew the curtain, opened his bag, and took from
it, not a night costume, but a brush, a comb, and a collar. Then he
turned off the light.
But instead of throwing himself on his bed, he went to the opposite door
of the compartment and tried it; as he expected, it was locked. He put
on his coat, crammed into the pockets the articles he had taken from his
bag, and from his vest pocket took one of the sticks he had been
whittling on the way from Moukden. Leaning out of the window, he
inserted it in the lock. The train was just beginning to move. Would
this extemporized key serve? He turned it; the lock clicked; and the
next moment he was on the foot-board. Silently closing the door he
dropped to the ground, and ran alongside the moving train, stumbling and
tripping over the rugged ballast. The pace quickened and the train
began to distance him; but he made all the speed he could, and by the
time the last carriage had passed him he found, to his relief, that he
was beyond the station and in darkness. Dodging behind an engine-shed he
clambered over a fence, left the railway, and set off to find the house
of the compradore's brother.
He had taken the precaution, before starting, to obtain very explicit
directions, in order to save time, and to avoid the risk involved in
asking questions. The Chinese part of the town is some three miles from
the station, on lower ground near the river. The streets were
abominably filthy; and by the time Jack reached the priestan or
merchants' quarters he felt sadly in need of a bath. By following the
compradore's instructions he found the grain store of which he was in
search, though with some trouble. All the business premises in the
neighbourhood were closed for the night; there were few people in the
streets: the Chinaman as a rule barricades himself in his house at
nightfall. Making sure by peering at the sign that he had come to the
right house, Jack gently knocked at the door. It was opened by a
Chinaman, whom Jack recognized by the light of the oil-lamp he carried
as the compradore's brother.
"I am from Moukden, Mr. Hi," said Jack, "and have a note from your
brother Mr. Hi An."
"Come in," said the Chinaman at once, without any indication of
surprise. Jack pulled off his dirty boots and followed him to a little
back shop, where he had evidently just been engaged in brewing tea. He
asked Jack to sit down, poured him out a dish of tea, and then waited
with oriental patience to hear what his visitor had to say. Prising open
the sole of one of his boots, Jack drew out the compradore's note. It
bore only three Chinese characters, and said merely that Hi An wished
his brother to give all possible assistance to the bearer. The Chinaman
looked up with an expression of grave polite curiosity and still waited.
The compradore having said that his brother could be thoroughly trusted,
Jack explained to him, as simply and clearly as he could, the
circumstances that had brought him to Harbin, and the object of his
visit. When the Chinaman had heard the story, and learnt what was
expected of him, he looked somewhat scared. He said that the Russians
would inflict the most terrible punishments upon him if they discovered
that he had sheltered and assisted a fugitive. He spoke of his terror
of the Russian knout. But the Englishman might command him to do what
he could. Had he not himself received benefits from Mr. Brown? Five
years ago, he said, when he was on the verge of ruin, he had written to
his brother the compradore for assistance. Hi An, a born gambler, like
every Chinaman, had himself been speculating disastrously, and was
unable to give any help. But he had appealed to Mr. Brown, who had at
once advanced the sum required and set the grain merchant on his feet
again. The loan had long since been repaid: in business transactions
the Chinaman is the soul of honour: but he had never lost his feeling of
gratitude; and his recollection of Mr. Brown's kindness, together with
his brother's request, made him willing to run some risk on behalf of
his benefactor's son.
Jack talked long over the situation with his host. His object was to
get to Vladivostok as soon as possible. Having no pass he could not
travel openly, and when breakfast-time came next morning his absence
from the Moscow train would be discovered, even if it were not found out
before; the news would be telegraphed to Harbin, and there would
instantly be a hue and cry. The Chinaman doubted whether this would be
the case; the train officials would be too anxious to screen their own
negligence. Still, it would be unsafe for Jack to remain in Harbin; as
for himself, he saw no way of helping him.
"I must go by train," said Jack, "and secretly. Could I go hidden in a
goods wagon?"
"That might be possible," said the Chinaman; "but goods trains are not
fast; they are often delayed for hours and even days. The journey would
take a week, and though you might carry food with you, you would have to
leave your hiding-place for water, and you could not escape discovery."
"Still, it may be that or nothing. Have you yourself any goods going in
that direction?"
"No. My business is chiefly to supply fodder to the Russians, more
especially for horses that are being sent south. I completed a large
contract yesterday. One thing I can do. I can go to the station in the
morning and learn what trains are expected to leave for Vladivostok.
That is the first step. You will remain concealed in my house. You
were not seen as you entered?"
"No. The street was clear."
"Then nobody but my wife and myself need know that you are here. I will
do what I can for you."
"Thank you! And if it is a question of bribery, you need not be
niggardly."
The Chinaman smiled. He had not had dealings with Russian officials for
nothing.
Jack was provided with a couch for the night, and, being very tired
after his long journey and the excitement of his escape, he soon fell
asleep. About five o'clock he was awakened by the Chinaman's hurried
entrance.
"It is all arranged, sir," he said, "but at a terrible price. A train
conveying horses is to leave for Vladivostok at seven. The sergeant in
charge is well known to me: I have had dealings with him. All Russians
can be bribed; but this man--sir, he is an extortioner. Still, after
what you said, I made the bargain with him. You give him at once twenty
roubles; you arrive safely at Vladivostok and give him thirty roubles
more. I tried to make him accept twenty-five for the second sum, but he
refused."
Jack could not help smiling at this naive evidence of the oriental habit
of bargaining. He felt that if he reached Vladivostok for fifty roubles
he would have got off remarkably well.
"But how is it to be managed?" he asked.
"I gave him to understand, sir, that you are a foreign correspondent
wishing to see Vladivostok, and that there is a delay in the forwarding
of the necessary authorization. It was because you are a foreigner that
the sergeant was so firm about the five roubles. He talked about the
risk he ran, and said that you must leave the train some time before it
arrives at Vladivostok and walk the rest of the way. He said, too, that
if you should be discovered you were not to admit that he had any
knowledge of your presence. I promised that you would do all this."
"Very well. I am exceedingly obliged to you. But how am I to go? What
will the sergeant do for twenty roubles?"
"He will give you a corner in a horse-box."
"Does the train consist of nothing but horse-boxes?"
"Horse-boxes and the sergeant's van. You cannot go in that."
"No. And how am I to get into the horse-box without being seen? There
are sure to be soldiers and officials about."
The Chinaman rubbed his hands slowly and pondered.
"If it had been yesterday," he said, "you might then have gone hidden in
a hay-cart. But my last loads were delivered yesterday."
"Who knows that?"
"The inspector of forage; perhaps others."
"And is the inspector likely to be at the station this morning?"
"Not so early as seven; he is too fond of his bed for that."
"Where is the train standing?"
"On a siding at some little distance from the station. You can drive
straight up to it from the road through the goods entrance. But there
is a sentry at the gate."
"Well, Mr. Hi, I think I see a way to dodge the sentry, with your kind
assistance. I suppose you have some hay or straw in your store?"
"Certainly."
"Then if you will load up a wagon with several large bundles, and leave
a hole for me in the middle, I think I can get to my place in the
horse-box."
"But you might be seen as you slip out."
"We can lessen the risk of that. You can drive the wagon up to the
horse-box as though bringing a final load that had been overlooked. I
am covered by the bundles. You move them in such a way that the sides of
the cart are well screened, at the same time leaving a passage for me.
I ought to be able to slip into the box without being observed. And if
you are willing I will chance it."
The Chinaman agreed, and as the time was drawing near, and the earlier
the plan was carried out the better, he went off to get his wagon
loaded. Shortly after six the cumbrous vehicle was brought up as close
as possible to a door giving into the yard of the store. Jack thanked
Mr. Hi very warmly for his services, and begged him, if he should by any
chance learn of Mr. Brown's whereabouts, to communicate with his brother
in Moukden. Choosing a moment when nobody but the Chinaman and his wife
was near, Jack slipped into the wagon, and was in a few moments
effectually concealed by the bundles of hay. He found in the bottom of
the cart a supply of food and a large water-bottle thoughtfully provided
by his obliging host.
Mr. Hi himself mounted to the bare board behind his oxen, grasped the
rope reins in one hand and the long-thonged whip in the other, and drove
off. Jack did not enjoy the drive, jolted over the vile roads, and
half-choked by the full-scented hay. The wagon came to the gate of the
goods entrance, and the Chinaman was challenged by the sentry. He
pulled up, and with much deference explained that he had brought a last
load of hay for the horses about to leave for Vladivostok, pointing at
the same time to the long line of horse-boxes standing on the siding,
about three hundred yards away. The sentry jerked his rifle over his
shoulder and said nothing. Taking his silence for consent, the Chinaman
lashed his oxen, and the wagon rumbled over the bumpy ground and two or
three lines of metals until it reached the last carriage but one, next
to the brake-van. The Chinaman jumped to the ground, backed the wagon
against the door, and began to arrange his bundles as Jack had
suggested. He whispered to Jack that nobody was near; and next moment a
form much the colour of hay crept on all-fours out of the wagon into the
van. Then Mr. Hi built up the hay with what was already in the vehicle,
so as to conceal him and yet allow a little air-space near one of the
small windows. There were three horses in the van. Though early
morning, it was already close and stuffy, and Jack looked forward with
anything but pleasure to the heat of mid-day and the prospect of many
hours in this equine society.
*CHAPTER V*
*A Deal in Flour*
Vladivostok--Orloff--Russian Resentment--Large Profits--Quick
Returns--Overreached--A Droshky Race--The Waverley--Captain
Fraser--Sowinski comes Aboard--Sea Law--Pourboire
It was two o'clock in the morning on the second day after Jack left
Harbin. The train slowed down as it rounded a loop, and finally came to
a stop. Jack was fast asleep in his corner of the horse-box. He was
awakened by a touch on the shoulder.
"You get down here, sir."
"Ah! Where are we, sergeant?"
"Four versts from Vladivostok."
"That's well. And what sort of a night?"
"Fine, sir; but dark as pitch."
"Thanks! Let me see; is it twenty-five roubles I owe you?"
"Thirty, sir, no less; more if you like."
"Here you are. Have you got a match? Take care: a spark, you know!
Count them; three ten-rouble notes. Now, how am I to get into the town?"
"The road's not far on the other side of the line.--Nobody is to know
how you got here, sir."
"I understand that. Many thanks! It has been a pretty rapid journey
for Manchuria, I think."
"Yes. Live stock comes next to the Viceroy. Horses are none the better
for being jolted over three hundred miles of rail, so they've let us
pass several goods trains on the way."
"Any passenger trains allowed to pass us?"
"Not one."
"Then I couldn't have got here sooner. Thanks again!"
Jack dropped from the foot-board, ran down the embankment, and in a few
minutes struck the high-road. He had not thought it necessary to
explain to the sergeant that he knew the district. It was, as the
Russian had said, very dark, but Jack made his way to a plantation near
the road, through which he knew that a little stream ran. There he had
a thorough wash, changed his collar, brushed and shook his clothes, and
felt a different creature. Then he sat down on the moss-grown roots of
an oak, and ate the Chinese cakes and dried fruit that remained from the
stock of food given him by Hi Feng, the compradore's brother, washing it
down with water from the brook. Dawn was breaking by the time he had
finished his frugal breakfast, but it was useless to go into the town
until the business houses opened. He therefore determined to remain in
the secluded nook he had chosen, and sat there thinking of what lay
before him.
About eight o'clock he rose to continue his walk to the town. It was
two years since he had last visited it, and he was struck by the
progress it had made in the interval. Founded only forty years before,
the city had grown very rapidly; but since the Russian occupation of
Manchuria it had made giant strides. New hospitals and barracks had
been erected; the surrounding hills, once decked with forest, but now
treeless, were covered with immense forts and earthworks, at which vast
gangs of coolies were still at work. The wooden shanties that formerly
lined the shore had for the most part given place to more solid and
imposing structures of brick and stone. Other signs of development
caught Jack's eye as he walked towards the harbour; but he was too eager
to complete his errand to dwell upon them, especially as he heard behind
him in the distance the rumble of an approaching train. It overtook him
just as he turned down one of the steep, narrow side streets leading to
the office of his father's agent; and as he saw the long line of
carriages, including several sleeping-cars, roll past, he could not but
wonder whether Anton Sowinski was among the passengers, and hastened his
steps.
The office had just been opened for the day when he arrived. Alexey
Petrovitch Orloff was a big, jovial Russian of some forty years; honest,
or Mr. Brown would have had no dealings with him; a little greedy; a
good business man, and on excellent terms with his principal. But Jack
knew little about him outside their business transactions, and had made
up his mind not to trust him with his secret.
"Ah, Ivan Ivanovitch!" exclaimed Orloff as Jack entered. "I was
expecting you or your father. You came by the night train?"
"Yes. You must have been asleep when it arrived."
"What sort of a journey had you?"
"It was very hot."
"Yes, we have been baked here. When did you leave?"
"On Thursday."
"A fairly quick journey, considering the state of the line. You left
before my letter arrived?"
"Yes. Of course you guess the object of my visit?"
"The consignment of flour? You have had great luck, I must say; but
Captain Fraser always is lucky. Of course his cargo was not contraband
according to English ideas, but we Russians have been rather strict of
late, and the Japanese will probably follow suit. However, Captain
Fraser never saw a Japanese cruiser the whole voyage. It should be an
excellent speculation for your father. Prices are naturally high just
now."
"That is good news. We shouldn't like to wind up with a failure."
"Of course not. It is a pity your father is retiring; we are bound to
win in the end; but I've no doubt he can well afford it. And I'm not
the man to complain, if, as I hope, I can get hold of a part of his
business. Perhaps he is wise after all. Manchuria is not the most
comfortable country to live in--just now, at any rate; and I fancy an
Englishman will have a poor time of it in Moukden, eh?" (He gave Jack a
shrewd look.) "Your newspapers have so completely taken the side of the
enemy."
"Yes, there is a strong feeling at home in favour of Japan, and your
people resent it. That's natural enough."
"It's rather worse than that. People here are saying that Russia and
England will be at war before a month's out."
"Nonsense!"
"They say so. Our cruisers have stopped a P. and O. liner, the
_Malacca_, in the Mediterranean, and put a prize crew on board. She was
carrying contraband, it appears; but your fire-eaters--jingoes, is that
the name?--are thirsting for our blood."
"We don't all eat fire and drink blood, Alexey Petrovitch."
"True. And you English will find you have backed the wrong horse."
"You haven't been much troubled here, then?"
"No. The bombardment did us no harm. Our cruisers sank three Japanese
transports the other day, and they captured another of your ships with
contraband, the _Allanton_: you'll see her lying in the harbour now."
"Well, it appears to be lucky for us that the _Waverley_ was, in a
sense, on your side. About this consignment of flour: do you think you
can find an immediate purchaser? We want to realize and get away at
once."
The Russian's eyes gleamed, but his reply was cautious.
"Well, Ivan Ivanovitch, it is always more difficult to sell in a hurry
than if you can wait. A good profit can be made, but we must take our
time. It is a matter of bargaining. The man in a hurry always
suffers."
"Yes, I know. We must be prepared to sacrifice something. At the market
rate the flour ought to fetch about 27,000 roubles; but look here, if
you can find an immediate purchaser at 25,000 I'll let it go."
Orloff still hesitated, but Jack could see that he was making an effort
to restrain his eagerness.
"In business," he said, "it is best to be frank. If you will give me my
usual commission of two and a half per cent--what do you say to my
taking over the stuff myself?"
Jack smiled.
"I say that it pays very well to be principal and agent at the same
time. But we won't quarrel about the commission. If you'll write me a
cheque for 24,375 roubles, we'll call the matter settled. I've full
authority to act."
The Russian, looking as if he was sorry he had not improved the
opportunity still further, sat down at once and made out the cheque,
adding:
"There will be one or two papers to sign. I will get them from the
dockyard people."
"Very well. In the meantime I'll pay this into the bank and call back
as soon as I can."
"What is the hurry? Business is slack, and I suppose I shan't see you
again for a long time."
"Probably not. But there's a ring at your telephone. Evidently someone
wants to do business. I'll see you again shortly."
Orloff was disposed to be talkative, but Jack was on thorns lest the
train he had seen come in should have brought Sowinski. He had the
cheque; while in the train he had taken the vouchers from the sole of
his boot; he wondered whether he could complete his business at the bank
before Sowinski, supposing him to be in Vladivostok, should come upon
the scene. He hurried to the branch of the Russo-Chinese bank, where he
was well known to the officials. Business there also was slack; the
manager said indeed that trade in Vladivostok would be ruined if the war
continued much longer. Within half an hour, Jack left the building with
bills on Baring Brothers for the amount of the cheque and the sum
represented by the vouchers, less 2000 roubles in notes which he kept
for his immediate and contingent expenses.
He hurried back to Orloff's office, keeping a wary eye on the people
thronging the streets, among them many soldiers in the _pashalik_, their
characteristic peaked cap. When he entered the room, Orloff flung down
his pen and gave a shout of merriment.
"I must tell you the joke, Ivan Ivanovitch. Not five minutes after you
left, who should come in but Sowinski!" Jack repressed a start. "He
had happened to hear, he told me, that the _Waverley_ had arrived with a
consignment of flour for your father. Was I empowered to sell? Ha! ha!
It was not a matter of much consequence, he said. Ha! ha! I know
Sowinski. But, having a small contract to fulfil in a month's time at
Harbin, he could do with the flour, if it was to be had cheap. 'Mr.
Brown is leaving the country, I understand,' says he. Ha! ha!"
Sowinski had evidently not told Orloff of the arrest. Jack wondered for
a moment why. But the explanation at once suggested itself. If the
fact were known, the consignment would no doubt be impounded by the
Russian authorities in Vladivostok, and then the Pole would lose his
chance of making a profitable deal.
"I assure you I was not eager," continued Orloff, still laughing.
"Sowinski is no friend of mine. In the end he went down to the harbour,
inspected the consignment, and bought it for 27,000 roubles, the market
price, as you yourself mentioned."
"Quick returns and by no means small profits," said Jack.
"Yes. But--ha! ha!--what makes me laugh is something else. I was rung
up at the telephone--just as you went, you remember; two vessels had
been signalled from the mouth of the harbour carrying flour--not a
moderate consignment like yours, but a whole cargo each. You see, Ivan
Ivanovitch? The market price of Sowinski's lot will fall in an hour to
20,000 roubles, and it serves him right. How your father will laugh
when he learns how his rival has overreached himself! By the way, the
_Waverley_ is sailing this morning, in ballast of course."
"Indeed!" No information could have pleased Jack more. "Captain Fraser
is an old friend of ours. I should like to see him."
"Then you haven't much time to lose. But you may as well sign these
papers to complete our little transaction--the last, I am sorry to say.
You will be back again?"
"I am not sure. I am not staying in Vladivostok long, and I'll say
good-bye in case I don't get time to run in again."
"And when do you leave for home?"
"As soon as possible."
"By the Trans-Siberian, I suppose?"
"Probably; unless we can get through the lines to Newchang."
"That will be easy enough soon. Reinforcements are pouring in for
General Kuropatkin, and he'll soon be strong enough to drive those
waspish little yellow men into the sea."
"Perhaps. Well, good-bye, Alexey Petrovitch!"
"Remember me to your father."
"I will, the moment I see him. Good-bye!"
Leaving the office Jack hailed a droshky, and ordered the man to drive
down to the harbour. Knowing that Sowinski was actually in the town he
felt insecure with such valuable property in his pocket. As he stepped
into the vehicle he glanced round, and, forewarned though he was, he
started when he saw, a few yards up the street, the man he was anxious
to avoid hurrying in his direction. By the look on the Pole's face, and
his quickened step, Jack knew that he had been recognized. It was touch
and go now.
"Quick, my man!" he said quietly to the driver, "time presses."
The man, scenting a tip, whipped up his horse, and it sprang forward,
throwing Jack back into his seat. At the same moment he heard the Pole
shouting behind; but his voice was at once drowned by the clatter of the
wheels, and the droshky man, standing in the car, and driving with the
usual recklessness of the Russian coachman, was too much occupied in
avoiding the traffic to turn his head. Jack, however, a minute later
looked cautiously over the back of the vehicle. Sowinski, with urgent
gestures, was beckoning a droshky some distance up the street. He was
now nearly a quarter of a mile behind; and, turning a corner, Jack lost
him from sight. But the street he had now reached was a long straight
one, leading direct to the shore, and almost clear of traffic. In a few
seconds the pursuing droshky swung round the corner at a pace that left
Jack amazed it did not overturn. To throw the Pole off the scent was
impossible now; it was an open race. In two minutes Jack's droshky
rattled down the incline to the shore. He had the fare and a handsome
tip in readiness. Springing from the car almost before it had stopped,
he paid the man, leapt down the steps into a sampan, and called to the
burly Chinaman smoking in it:
"The English ship _Waverley_! A rouble if you put me aboard quickly."
The Chinaman looked stolidly up.
"She is about to sail, master. See! And they will not allow you on
board. There are difficulties. The port officers----"
Jack waited for no more. Taking a rouble note from his pocket, he
cried:
"Here is six times your fare; this or nothing!"
At the same time he seized the yuloh,--the pole that does duty for a
stern oar, and shoved off. There is nothing a Chinese coolie will not
do for a rouble. The man sprang to the oar, worked its flat end
backwards and forwards with all his strength, and sent the sampan over
the water at a greater speed than its clumsy build seemed capable of.
Jack kept his head low in order to be sheltered as long as possible by
the shanties on shore and the sampans crowded at the water's edge;
Sowinski, he felt, would not hesitate to take a shot at him. He could
see the Pole spring from his droshky and rush at break-neck pace towards
the waiting row of craft. He leapt into one, pointed Jack out to the
coolie, and in a few moments started in pursuit.
The _Waverley_ had left the inner harbour where merchant vessels drop
anchor, and was steaming dead slow out to sea. The captain stood on the
bridge, and the vessel hooted a farewell to the cruiser _Rurik_ that lay
in the middle of the channel. Suddenly Captain Fraser became aware that
the voice sounding clear across the still water was hailing him.
Glancing round, he saw a sampan making rapidly towards him from the
shore, and in it a youth with one hand to his mouth, the other waving
his hat. The captain first swore, then signalled half-speed ahead; it
was some Russian formality, he supposed, and as a British sailor he'd be
hanged if he delayed another moment for any foreign port officer. But
next moment he heard his own name in an unmistakably English accent,
and, looking more closely at the shouter, recognized him.
"Young Mr. Brown!" he muttered. "What's he wishing?"
At the same time he jerked the indicator back to "stop", a bell tinkled
below, and the vessel came to a stand-still.
"Ay, ay!" he shouted. "And be hanged if there isn't another man
bawling. What's in the wind, anyway?"
The first craft was soon alongside, a rope was heaved over, and in a few
seconds Jack stood on deck.
"Pleased to see you, Mr. Brown," said the Captain. "Ay, and I wouldna
have sto'ped for no ither man."
"Thanks, Captain! I want your help." Jack spoke hurriedly; the second
sampan was but a biscuit-shot distant. "The Russians have collared my
father on a charge of spying for the Japanese; I don't know where he is;
that fellow in the boat is at the bottom of it. I've managed to steal a
march on him and sell the flour you landed the other day, and I want you
to take charge of these bills and deposit them at the Hong-Kong and
Shanghai Bank for me."
"Eh, laddie, is that a fact? And what'll you do yersel' the now?"
"Oh, I'll stay and find my father. Here's Sowinski. I'm jolly glad I
got here first."
The other sampan was by this time under the vessel's quarter. A seaman
came up to the captain.
"A furriner, sir, talking double Dutch."
"Quay."
He left the bridge and went to the side.
"What might you be wishing the now?" he said.
Sowinski began to address him in very broken English, eked out with
French and Russian.
"I'm no' what you might ca' a leenguist," said the Captain, after a
patient hearing. "What'll he be meaning, Mr. Brown?"
"He says I'm a fugitive, and insists on your giving me up. If you
don't, he'll have the boat stopped at the signal station, and you'll be
heavily fined."
"He's a terrible man, yon; there's nae doot about it. Just tell him to
bide a wee, Mr. Brown, until you an' me has had a wee bit crack. Now,
sir," he added in a lower tone, when this had been interpreted to the
Pole, "hadn't ye better come wi' me now ye're aboard? If you go ashore
you may be caught. I'm no sure but we'll be overhauled by a Russian
cutter as we gang out, but I've no contraband aboard; in fact, I've run
a cargo in for the Russians, an' well they know it. Your father may be
half-way to Europe by this time; I canna see there'd be ony guid biding
to look for him."
"That's good of you, Captain, but I must stay. They say they've
deported my father; but somehow I feel sure he is still in the country,
and I shall try to hang on here by hook or crook till I find him."
"Aweel; then the best thing will be to get yon terrible Turk aboard.
Just ask him to step up, sir."
As Sowinski was clambering up the side the captain signalled the
engine-room to go ahead dead slow. He invited the Pole to join him on
the bridge. Captain Fraser looked him critically up and down; then said
blandly:
"And is it a port officer I'm to understand you are, Mister?"
"A port officer! Not so. I am man of affairs, business man. But in
name of his majesty ze Imperator I--I arrest zis young man."
"Just exactly. But I beg your pardon, Mister--Mister--what?"
"Sowinski."
"Just exactly. Well, then, Mr. Sowinski, do ye happen to have about ye
a warrant for the arrest o' this young man in the name o' the Imperator,
by which, I preshume, you mean the Czar? Where's your authority, man?"
The Pole looked puzzled.
"Audority! I have no audority. But I tell you, zis young man is
deported; he escape from arrestation; he----"
"Tuts! And you have the impidence to come aboard my ship: to haud me
up, a British subject; to cause loss to my owners--to my owners, I
say--without authority? I'll learn you, Mister, what it is to haud up a
British ship without authority. Hi, Jim! lug this man below, and if he
doesna behave himsel' just clap him under hatches."
Sowinski, wriggling desperately, and volubly protesting in half a dozen
languages, was bundled from the bridge.
"He's got the wrong sow by the lug in Duncan Fraser," said the captain,
with a grim tightening of the lips. "I'll just tak' him along to
Shanghai if the coast is clear, Mr. Brown, though I may have to drop him
a few miles lower down if I see signs of any Russians being
inqueesitive. And if you must go ashore, laddie, tak' a word frae
me--keep out o' the road o' the Russians."
"I'll be careful, Captain. When you get to Shanghai you'll tell our
consul all about it, and ask him to wire to England? The newspapers
will take it up, and I should think Lord Lansdowne will make official
enquiries at St. Petersburg."
"Ay, I'll do what I can. You're quite determined to bide?"
"Oh yes! And another thing, Captain: I think, if you don't mind, you'd
better let my mother know; she expects us home, and not hearing, would
be alarmed. Tell her not to worry; it's sure to come all right in the
end."
"Ay, I'll do that. I never heard the like o't. What the ballachulish
will the Russians be doing next! I needna say I wish ye good luck, sir.
Will you take a wee drappie?"
"Not to-day, Captain, many thanks all the same! A pleasant voyage to
you!"
Both sampans had kept pace with the steamer; the coolies were beginning
to be anxious about their fares. Jack bade his friend the captain a
cordial farewell; the vessel stopped; and, dropping into his sampan,
Jack ordered the man to put him ashore at the nearest point. Within a
yard of the shore the Chinaman brought the punt to a stop and demanded
two roubles.
"But the bargain was one."
"I did not know, Master. I do not risk offending the Russians for a
rouble. Give two, or I will not let you land."
He looked at Jack with victorious malice in his beady black eyes. For a
moment Jack hesitated; he did not wish to have an altercation with the
man; at the same time he objected to be "done". He stood up in the
sampan and drew a bundle of notes from his pocket. Selecting one, he
folded it; then, flinging it to the coolie, he sprang suddenly
overboard, giving the sampan a kick which sent it backwards. The man
also had risen; the sudden movement made him lose his balance, and he
fell over the yuloh into the water. Jack quietly walked away. As he did
so he heard loud laughter on his left hand. Turning, he saw that the
incident had been witnessed by two Russian officers who had been walking
towards the mouth of the harbour. Knowing the ways of the Chinese
coolie, they were much amused at the readiness with which Jack had
disposed of the boatman. One of them shouted "Well done!" in Russian.
Jack smiled, and replied with a couple of words in the same tongue; then
hurried on, thanking his stars that the matter had ended so well.
*CHAPTER VI*
*In Full Cry*
In Chinatown--A Deal in Horseflesh--North and by East--A Korean
Host--Across the Line--Buriats--Father Mayenube--Gabriele--A Shot--Hard
Pressed--In Hiding--Suggestio Falsi
Jack's business in Vladivostok was now completed. He had secured the
last of his father's property; bills representing several thousands of
pounds were in the safe hands of Captain Fraser, soon to be confided to
the Hong-Kong and Shanghai Bank. So far his task had been unexpectedly
easy; his difficulties, he felt, were now to begin. During the long
journey from Harbin he had spent hours endeavouring to think out a plan
to adopt if his secret visit to Vladivostok proved successful. By hook
or crook he must get back to Moukden and learn the result of the
compradore's enquiries; the question was, how? The return journey would
be attended by many difficulties; even if he should reach Moukden in
safety it would only be to find himself encompassed by danger. Yet he
saw no other chance of tracing his father, and whatever the risks and
perils, he felt that his duty called him to face them.
The first thing, then, was to make his way back to Moukden. To return
by the railway was out of the question. He dared not go openly, and he
knew no one in Vladivostok whom he could trust to negotiate for a
clandestine passage. His only course was to slip away, gain the
Manchurian frontier, and cross the Shan-yan-alin range of mountains--a
long and difficult journey at the best, and in the present circumstances
hazardous in the extreme. If he evaded the Russians in and around
Vladivostok he would still be exposed to capture by Chinese bandits, to
say nothing of the tenfold risks as he neared his journey's end.
His difficulties were intensified by the desperately short notice at
which he must now quit Vladivostok. Sowinski, furious at being
outwitted in the matter of the bills, would be goaded to madness by his
detention on board the _Waverley_, and as Captain Fraser would probably
consider it prudent to put him ashore at no great distance, it might not
be long before he telephoned to head-quarters and thus raised the hue
and cry in Vladivostok itself. To the natives Jack might easily pass
for a Russian; carefully made up, he might, with his smattering of
Chinese, be taken by the Russians for a native. But there was no time
for such preparations; and a Russian policeman on the hunt for an
Englishman, with the Pole's description of him, must be an exceptionally
incompetent member of his class if he failed to recognize the fugitive.
Speed was thus the first essential.
Hurrying up from the shore he made up his mind what to do. Fortunately
he was in the Chinese quarter of the town; it was the part of prudence
to avoid the Russian settlement on the hill. He remembered a Chinese
horse-dealer with whom Mr. Brown had done business when he lived in the
town years before. The Chinese had altered less than the official city,
and he thought he could find his way to the merchant's house. Taking
his bearings, he walked rapidly through several streets, and found to
his delight that his recollection had not failed him. The horse-dealer
was at home; he did not recognize Jack, who was a boy of eleven when his
transactions with Mr. Brown had taken place; but he well remembered the
English merchant. And when he learnt that Jack wished to purchase a
pony he rubbed his hands together and led him at once to the stables to
view the stock. They were a weedy lot, like most of the native animals.
Jack was careful to show no haste or eagerness; he looked them over
critically, rejected one after another in spite of all the flowery
things the Chinaman found to say in their favour, and finally refused to
buy. As he expected, the merchant then managed to find a better
beast--a beautiful little Transbaikal pony, sturdy, well-made, and
evidently full of mettle. Jack could not have wished for a better
animal; but, experienced in the ways of Chinese business men, he gave no
sign of his approval. The merchant quoted a price; Jack hemmed,
hesitated--he knew better than to close at once; and then offered half.
Eager as he was to get away, he patiently chaffered for nearly an hour;
then, when the Chinaman was beginning to think he had lost his customer,
Jack suddenly closed with the last offer, and the pony became his at
two-thirds of the price first asked. The purchase of a saddle did not
take so long; and when he rode off, both dealer and customer were
equally pleased.
In the street Jack stopped a young Chinese boy and sent him to a
purveyor's shop for a small supply of portable food. The messenger
returned with some dried fish and stale cakes of potato-rice, all he
could procure. With this tied behind his saddle Jack set off. It was
an anxious moment when he passed a brown-coated Cossack policeman, and a
little farther on he gave a jump when a squadron of Cossacks swung round
the corner of the street. But they rode on without giving him more than
a casual glance. Not daring to hasten, he slowly made his way through
the city and out into the country. It was still only eleven o'clock; he
had nine or ten hours of daylight before him, and though the pony was
somewhat soft for want of exercise, it was no doubt good for thirty
miles at a pinch.
Vladivostok stands at the end of a narrow peninsula, with the Amur Bay
running for several miles into the land on the west, and the Ussuri Bay
on the east. To gain the Manchurian frontier Jack would have to ride
northwards, cross the railway at the head of the Amur Bay or beyond, and
then turn to the south-west. It was obviously unsafe for him to ride
parallel with the railway line, for his escape, if discovered, would no
doubt be telegraphed ahead, and the road would be watched, especially in
the neighbourhood of the stations. His best course, therefore, would be
to strike up eastwards towards the head of the Ussuri Bay, away from his
ultimate destination, and trust to luck to find a hill-path leading back
that would enable him to cross the line somewhere between the head of
the Amur Bay and the garrison town of Nikolskoye. His way led through
the plantation where he had made his toilet early that morning, then to
the right towards the hills.
Though Vladivostok itself has sprung up with marvellous rapidity, the
country is as yet sparsely peopled. At one time the town was closely
surrounded by magnificent woods; but the axe of the lumberman has been
busy, and the same work of deforesting that has robbed the town of
picturesqueness is now being pursued inland. One of the few people Jack
met along the unfrequented road he had chosen was a Russian colonist
riding behind a cart laden with pine logs and driven by a coolie. Jack
threw him a friendly "Good morning!" as he passed, and received a
feeling "Very hot, barin" in return. It was indeed hot; the almost
naked Korean labourers in the fields were streaming with sweat; and Jack
was glad to halt at a little brook to refresh himself and his beast.
After riding for some three hours, and covering, as he guessed, about
eighteen miles, almost entirely uphill, he saw the sea below him on the
right, and the far coast-line running to all appearance due south. This
must be Ussuri Bay. He had evidently come far enough east; it was time
to change his course to the north-west. Swinging round, he had not
ridden far before he came to a small farm, the house surrounded, like
all Chinese isolated country buildings, with a mud wall. His pony
required food, and though he felt some misgivings he thought this too
good an opportunity to be neglected. He rode up. The owner, he found,
was a Korean; Jack did not speak Korean; but by the help of Chinese and
pidgin Russian he succeeded in making the man understand what he wanted.
He then asked how far it was to Nikolskoye, and learning that it was
thirty versts, roughly twenty miles, he decided to give his pony a good
rest and start again about six o'clock, so that darkness would have
fallen by the time he came to the neighbourhood of the railway. Having
seen that the animal was rubbed down and provided with a good feed of
hay, he joined the farmer in a game of _wei-ch'i_, a difficult variant
of chess, and with this and a slow laborious conversation, in the course
of which his host expounded his hazy ideas of the war, he managed to get
through the hot afternoon.
Soon after six he set off again. The way was mainly downhill now, and
easier riding. About nine o'clock he saw in the gloaming a little
settlement ahead, and beyond it the hexagonal water-tower and timbered
store-house of the typical Siberian railway-station, but on a small
scale. The path he was following led direct to the hamlet, and the sight
of several small knots of people at that hour of the evening showed that
a train would shortly be passing; the peasants have not yet lost their
curiosity about the iron horse. He thought it well to avoid observation
by leaving the track--road it could not be called--and striking across a
bean-field. Making a wide sweep he came to the railway some three
versts north of the station. He rode very cautiously as he approached
the line, tied his pony to a tree, and scouted ahead to make sure that
the line rifle guard, whose hut might be expected a few versts beyond,
was not in sight. Suddenly he heard the distant rumble of a train--the
night train for Harbin. In a moment he saw that the passage of the
train would give him an opportunity of crossing the line unobserved. He
went back to his pony, led it as near as he dared to the embankment, and
waited.
The engine came snorting along at a fair pace, the fire throwing a glow
upon the darkling sky. The train clattered by. Immediately after the
last carriage had passed, Jack mounted the embankment, dragging his
pony, crossed the single line, and descended on the other side.
With a lighter heart he got into the saddle again, and rode his
excellent little steed across the fields in the hope of ere long
striking a road. Pursuit would be difficult in the darkness; the
greatest danger was to be expected with daylight, and it was very
necessary that he should put as many miles as possible between himself
and the railway before dawn. His course must be mainly south-west; the
nearest town of any size was Hun-chun, some sixty miles in that
direction; but having a vague idea that the Russians had erected a fort
there, he had already made up his mind to avoid that town itself. Four
or five hundred miles and countless perils lay between him and Moukden;
but with the hopefulness of youth he rode confidently on. Danger and
difficulty were only incentives to caution; if he anticipated them, it
was merely that, being prepared, he might be the more ready to grapple
with and overcome them. Ever present in his mind was the belief that
his father's fate hung upon the success of his enterprise.
Coming by and by to a rough track between the fields, he followed it
until past midnight. Then, feeling that his pony could do no more, and
being unable in the darkness to guide himself by the little compass he
wore on his watch-chain, he left the track, rode into a plantation to
the right, off-saddled, and, hitching the bridle to a tree, threw
himself on the ground and fell asleep.
During the short hours of darkness his slumbers were disturbed by
dreams. Sowinski, Orloff, Monsieur Brin, the Chinese horse-dealer--all
figured in a strange phantasmagoria. Monsieur Brin had lost his pass,
and was shedding tears because he could not tear the red brassard from
his arm, when Jack awoke with a start. Looking at his watch he found it
was five o'clock. He must be up and away. He ate the last of his food;
the pony had already made a meal of the shoots of creeping plants; then,
with the instinct born of his fugitive condition, Jack approached the
edge of the plantation to spy out the country. Before him, not many
yards away, was a narrow river; behind--he gave a great start, for
little more than half a mile distant he saw a troop of Russian horsemen
trotting smartly along the road towards him. They might be going, of
course, to Possiet Bay, or Novo Kiewsk, or the Korean frontier. But he
noticed at a second glance that the leading man was bending low in his
saddle, as though following a trail. He distinguished their uniform now;
they were Buriats, Mongols by race and Buddhists by religion, hard
riders, excellent scouts, the most reckless and daring of the Russian
cavalry. Without a moment's hesitation he went back to his pony,
snatched from the ground the saddle that had formed his pillow, threw it
over the animal's back, and, tightening the girths with hands that shook
in spite of himself, he plunged with the pony into the thickest part of
the plantation.
At seven o'clock that morning, in a neatly-thatched, white-washed brick
cottage, surrounded by a luxuriant and well-kept garden, in the
hill-country above the Chuan, a little group sat at breakfast. The room
was plain but spotlessly clean. The wooden floors shone; the white
plastered walls were covered with coloured lithographs representing the
seven stations of the Cross; the little windows were hung with curtains
of Chinese muslin. A narrow shelf of books occupied one corner, a stove
another; and the table in the centre was spread with a snow-white cloth,
dishes of fruit, and home-made bread.
At the table three persons were seated. One was a tall man of fine
presence, with clear-cut features, soft brown eyes, long white hair and
beard. He wore the loose white tunic and pantaloons of a Chinaman, but
the cross that hung by a cord round his neck was not Chinese. Jean
Mayenobe was a Frenchman, a priest, one of those devoted missionaries
who cut themselves off from home and kindred to live a life of
self-denial, peril, and humble Christian service in remote unfriendly
corners of the globe.
His companions were a woman and a girl. The former was plain-featured
and plainly dressed, with placid expression and humble mien. The latter
seemed strangely out of place in her surroundings. She was young,
apparently of some seventeen years. Her features were beautiful, with a
dignity and a look of self-command rare in one of her age. Her
complexion was ruddy brown; her bright hair, gathered in a knot behind,
rebelled against the black riband that bound it, and fell behind her
ears in crispy waves. Before her on the table was a samovar, and she
had just handed a cup of tea to the missionary.
"Father," she said in French, "I am so tired of waiting. I am beginning
to think that permission will never come. But why should it be refused?
It is not as if I were seeking some benefit. In appearance I lose, not
gain."
"True, my child, you have nothing personally to gain. I have said
before, it is not every daughter who would come thousands of miles and
suffer hardship in order to bear her father company in exile and
imprisonment. And such exile! The little I know of Sakhalin is
frightful. It gives me pain to think of your knowing even so much."
"I am not afraid. And if the treatment of prisoners in Sakhalin is so
bad, that is all the more reason why I should be at my father's side, to
help and comfort him a little. Why do they refuse to let me go?"
"Probably they have forgotten all about you. The war occupies them
completely. And I repeat, if you have patience your father may come to
you. I have no belief that the Russians will win in this terrible war.
I heard but a little while ago from a brother priest near the scene of
operations at Hai-cheng, who has studied the combatants, that he is
convinced of the ultimate success of the Japanese. If they are
victorious they will probably demand that Sakhalin shall be restored to
them, and it will no longer be a place for Russian prisoners. Rest in
the Lord, my child; wait patiently for Him, and He will give thee thy
heart's desire."
Gabriele Walewska was silent. Father Mayenobe sank into a reverie. The
elderly woman looked sympathetically at her mistress, laid her hand on
hers, and murmured a few words in Polish, to which the girl responded
with a grateful smile. The sound of a distant shot coming through the
open window shook the missionary from his musing.
"Russian officers out snipe-shooting again, I suppose," he said. "It
reminds me I must go, my child. That poor Korean convert of mine is at
the point of death, I fear. I must go to him. I may be absent all
day."
"We shall be quite happy, father. I shall pick the last of your
strawberries to-day, and make some of your favourite tartlets for
supper."
"You will spoil me," said the priest with a smile. "Dominus vobiscum."
When the missionary had gone, Gabriele left the Korean servants to clear
the table, and, accompanied by her old nurse, went out into the garden
with a light wicker basket. As she did so she scanned the surrounding
country for signs of the shooting party. The mission station was at the
summit of a low hill, and below it, towards the east, stretched a tract
of sparse woodland, alternating with cultivated fields. A stream bathed
the foot of the hill, and wound away to join the Hun-Chuan, its course
traceable by the thickness of the wooded belt and the more vivid green
of the fields.
While the girl was still picking the ripe red berries she heard another
shot, this time closer at hand. She rose, and out of pure curiosity
searching the landscape she saw, about two miles away, a band of
horsemen galloping through a field of kowliang, already so well grown
that the stalks rose almost to the horses' heads. There were some
thirty or forty of the riders, at present little more than specks in the
distance. It struck her as rather a large hunting party, and she
wondered what they were chasing, big game being unknown in the
neighbourhood, and the time of year unusual for such sport. As she
stood looking, the horsemen left the field and disappeared into the
wooded belt bordering the stream.
Expecting them to come again into sight a little higher up, Gabriele
remained at the same spot. It occurred to her that one of them might be
bringing the written permission she desired, and had taken advantage of
his errand to organize a hunt. Suddenly she was startled to see a
figure on horseback emerge from the copse but a few yards below her. It
was a young man, a European; he was swaying in his saddle; and she
noticed with feminine quickness that one arm was supported in a sling--a
handkerchief looped round his neck. The next moment the rider caught
sight of her; his eyes seemed to her to speak the language of despair.
He swayed still more heavily, and was on the point of falling from his
horse when Gabriele sprang down the slope and caught him. Calling to her
nurse and a Korean man-servant near at hand, with their help she lifted
him from the saddle and loosened his shirt-collar, then sent the Korean
for water.
Jack was dazed at first, all but swooning.
"Thank you!" he said in Russian. "I was almost done, I think. But
please help me to mount again. I must ride on."
"Impossible, gospodin!" she said. "You are hurt, I see; the injury must
be seen to."
"It is good of you, but my arm must wait. Please help me to mount my
pony."
His wounded arm, his urgent manner, recalled to Gabriele the shots she
had heard, the band of horsemen she had seen galloping in the distance.
"You are in danger?" she said quickly. "Is it not so?"
"Yes. There are Buriats behind me; they are close on my heels.
Indeed"--he smiled wanly--"it is your duty, as a Russian, I suppose, to
give me up."
"I am not a Russian," she exclaimed. "And if I were, I should not
lightly give up a fugitive to the Russian police. You can go no farther;
what can I do? There is so little time."
For a few seconds she appeared to be considering. Her brow was knit;
she looked at him anxiously. Fully trusting her, he made no further
effort to continue his flight, for which, indeed, he was manifestly
unfit. Half-reclining on his pony's neck, he waited, panting.
Then she spoke rapidly to the Korean.
"Take the pony, unsaddle him, and turn him loose in the kowliang yonder.
Saddle the Father's pony, ride a few yards in the stream, then gallop
past the edge of the copse, through the hemp field, up to Boulder Hill.
If you are followed by horsemen, throw them off the scent. Don't let
them see you closely. Return after dark, but make sure the Buriats are
not here before you come in."
An unregenerate Korean would probably have hesitated, but this man had
been for some time under Father Mayenobe's training, and in a few
minutes he had brought out the pony and cantered away. Meanwhile
Gabriele, asking Jack to lean upon her arm, had led him into the copse
to a large beech, the lowest branch of which sprang from the trunk about
twelve feet from the ground. Asking him to remain there, she ran off
with the fleetness of a doe, and soon returned with a light ladder.
Setting this against the tree, she assisted Jack to mount; when he
reached the fork he saw that the interior of the trunk was hollow. Then
she pulled up the ladder, lowered it into the hollow space, and helped
Jack to descend. Drawing up the ladder again, she let it down outside,
ran down, and carried it swiftly back to the house, leaving Jack inside
the trunk, where he stood upright, supporting himself with his uninjured
arm.
Scarcely five minutes had passed since his first appearance. The
Buriats had not yet come in sight; they had clearly been checked by the
fugitive's sudden divergence from his previous line of flight, and
nonplussed by his precaution in riding for some distance through the
stream. But in another five minutes half a dozen horsemen, with a
handsome young Russian lieutenant at their head, drew rein in front of
the house. Gabriele was unconcernedly shelling peas at the window of
the little dining-room.
The officer was evidently surprised to see a young European lady. With
heightened colour he bent over his saddle and addressed her in Russian.
"Have you seen a man on horseback in (he neighbourhood, Mademoiselle?"
Gabriele looked up, with a puzzled expression.
"Monsieur parle-t-il francais?" she said.
"Oui, Mademoiselle," returned the officer, then repeating his question
in French.
"Yes," she replied. "A few minutes ago a man galloped from the stream,
past the copse, and rode auay along the side of the hill."
"Merci bien, Mademoiselle," said the lieutenant, translating the
information for his men.
They at once began to hunt for the tracks, and in a few moments spied
the hoof-marks of a galloping horse. One of them discharged his rifle
to bring up the rest of the troop, who had scattered over the face of
the country, endeavouring to pick up the trail of the fugitive. Some
were already galloping off in the direction indicated by Gabriele. Soon
the rest of the Buriats came riding by in twos and threes, until the
whole band was in full cry up the hillside.
Gabriele remained at the window shelling peas until she was sure that
the last horseman had passed. Then she took a bottle of home-grown wine
from the missionary's store, filled a cup and gave it to her old nurse
to carry, and returned with the ladder to the tree.
"It is I," she said as she approached. "I am bringing you wine."
Mounting into the tree, she handed down the cup. Jack drained it at a
draught.
"You are suffering?" said the girl.
"Not much. It is a flesh wound; I have lost some blood, and was faint.
I am better now."
"You must remain in the tree. The danger is not yet past; but have
patience. I dare not stay longer; they will come back soon. Hope on."
*CHAPTER VII*
*A Daughter of Poland*
Suppressio Veri--The Keys--At Fault--A Polish Patriot--A Daughter's
Love--A Common Sorrow--A French Mission--A Council of War--From
Canton--A Surprise Visit--Hide and Seek--Ladislas Streleszki
All was silent for nearly an hour. Slowly the minutes passed. Jack
felt he had never been so wretchedly uncomfortable. His legs ached; his
arm throbbed with pain; there was not room in his hiding-place to sit;
the stuffiness of his prison and the attentions of innumerable insects
so tortured him that he could hardly refrain from crying out to be
released. Eagerly he listened for the return of the tall strong girl
whose quick wit had thrown the Buriats off his track. When would she
come again? At last, after a period of waiting that seemed ten times as
long as it really was, he fancied he heard her footsteps. He listened;
yes, it was certainly someone approaching; his long imprisonment was
ended. But just as the footsteps, now distinctly audible, neared the
tree, his ears caught the heavy thud of horses galloping, and a few
moments afterwards an angry voice saying in French:
"The man you saw, Mademoiselle, is not the man we are searching for. My
sergeant, who is following him up, sends me word that he got a clear
view of him as he breasted the hill. The dress is different, the horse
is different----"
He broke off as if expecting an explanation.
"How unfortunate, Monsieur!" exclaimed Gabriele in a tone of concern.
"I fear you must have come a long distance out of your way."
"That is as it may be, Mademoiselle," replied the lieutenant, somewhat
nettled. "Perhaps not so far either, for we tracked our man to within a
few hundred yards of your house." He paused a moment, then added
suspiciously: "What was he like, the man you saw galloping?"
"What was he like?" she repeated reflectively. "I think he was about
your height; but then you are mounted, and so was he, and it is so
difficult to judge when a man is mounted, is it not, Monsieur? And then
he was going so fast; in a flash he was by; there was his back
disappearing into the copse. It was a broad back; yes, certainly a
broad back; and he was hitting his pony; yes, I remember that clearly,
poor thing! and it was going so fast, too."
All this was said with the most artless simplicity, and Jack was amused,
though his heart was beating hard with apprehension.
"But, Mademoiselle, what was he like?" repeated the officer, finding
some difficulty in repressing his anger.
"The man I saw, Monsieur, or the man you saw, or the man your sergeant
saw? There are so many--they confuse me."
"The man you saw. Come, Mademoiselle, we are wasting time. Was he a
white man, or a Chinaman, or what?"
"Oh, his colour! Really, I cannot say. You see, Monsieur, the sun was
in my eyes. I saw his back plainly, a broad back; but he was riding
fast, and hitting his pony; yes, poor thing! he was hitting it very
hard."
The lieutenant hesitated; Jack held his breath.
"You will pardon me, Mademoiselle, if I ask you to let me search your
house."
"Not my house, Monsieur. It belongs to Father Mayenobe."
"Peste!" he exclaimed as he dismounted. "This house, whosesoever it is.
The man gave us the slip in this neighbourhood, and my orders are to
capture him."
"Certainly search, Monsieur. Father Mayenobe is away from home, or I am
sure he would receive you as the occasion demands. The house is open to
you. Perhaps a few of you would enter at a time?"
The frowning officer glanced at her, unable to decide whether she was
mocking him. But her face was perfectly grave.
"Certainly, Mademoiselle," he replied a little uneasily. "Two will be
sufficient; and with your permission I will accompany them. Doubtless,"
he added, as by an afterthought, "it will prove a mere form."
"I suppose it is quite right, Monsieur. I know nothing about these
things. Perhaps I ought to say no until Father Mayenobe returns. But
then I couldn't prevent you, could I? So you had better go in and do
your duty. Let me see, you will want the keys." She took a bunch from
her pocket. "There are very few. This is the key of the larder."
She innocently handed him the bunch, indicating the one she had
mentioned.
"Only the larder is locked," she added. "The natives, you are aware,
Monsieur, will overeat if one is not careful."
The young officer, looking very much ashamed of himself, took the bunch,
and having no answer ready, moved towards the house.
"Will you show us the house, Mademoiselle?"
"Oh no, Monsieur! that would be to countenance your intrusion. I cannot
be expected to do that."
The conversation had been carried on throughout within a few feet of
Jack. In spite of his wound, his uncomfortable position, and the danger
of discovery, he found himself shaking with silent laughter, imagining
the play of expression on the faces of Gabriele and her victim.
The lieutenant with two of his men went into the house. There was
silence for a while, broken only by the champing of the Buriats' ponies
and the rattle of accoutrements, the men sitting their steeds mute and
motionless. Then the voice of the officer could be heard interrogating
the old nurse, who merely shook her head to every question. She knew
nothing but Polish, and the officer's Russian was as incomprehensible to
her as his French. After a few minutes he returned.
"Accept my apologies and my thanks, Mademoiselle," he said, as he handed
her the keys. "We must pursue our chase elsewhere. Bonjour!"
"Bonjour, Monsieur!"
The troop rode away, taking a different course. Gabriele's lips curved
in a smile as she watched them. The officer glanced back just before
riding out of sight. She was walking slowly towards the house.
Half an hour afterwards the missionary returned.
"Father," said Gabriele, "I have played the good Samaritan since you
have been away."
She explained to him rapidly what had occurred.
"My daughter," he said gently, "I cannot blame you, but you acted
rashly, very rashly indeed."
"What would you have done, Father?" she asked archly.
"Just what you did, my dear," he replied with twinkling eyes. "But we
must be careful. The Russians look askance at our missions as it is;
they only want a pretext to expel us."
"And the poor young man is all the time in the tree! He must be nearly
dead with fatigue."
"But we cannot release him yet. Some of the Russians may return this
way from their chase of Min-chin. I hope they will not shoot the poor
fellow by mistake."
Jack waited, feeling more and more exhausted, and wondering how long his
irksome durance was to last. By and by he again heard horses galloping.
The Buriat sergeant and one of his men had returned from their fruitless
chase. Min-chin, the Korean servant, had outridden them, and they had
lost trace of him. They pulled up at the missionary's house to ask the
whereabouts of the remainder of the troop, then they rode on. Watching
them out of sight, and waiting for some time to assure himself that
danger was past, Father Mayenobe carried the ladder to the tree, and
soon Jack, pale, worn, and hungry, lay in the priest's own bed. The
father, like most of the French missionaries in China, knew something of
medicine and surgery; he examined Jack's wound, dressed and bound up his
arm, and said that he was not to think of getting up for several days.
It was in fact nearly a week before he was allowed to leave the bed, and
the missionary saw that watch was kept night and day to guard against a
surprise visit from the Russians.
During this period of enforced seclusion Father Mayenobe learnt Jack's
story. Though it made him feel more than ever the gravity of his
position if his guest should be discovered, it did not abate by a jot
his determination to do what he could for him. Indeed, his sympathy for
Jack was enhanced by a certain similarity between his circumstances and
Gabriele's. He told Jack her story. Her father was a large land-owner,
the descendant of a great Polish family, a man of noble character,
greatly beloved of his tenants and respected by his peers. Like every
true Pole he was a strong patriot, and had been a member of one of the
secret associations that have for their object the restoration of Polish
liberties. Some six years before, the society had been betrayed by one
of its members; Count Walewski, with several of his compatriots, was
arrested and sent without trial into exile; and as a deterrent to other
Poles who might contemplate revolt, the place selected for his
punishment was the bleak barren island of Sakhalin, the farthest eastern
limit of the Russian empire. There was special cruelty and indignity
involved in this choice, for the island was reserved as a rule for
murderers and the lowest class of criminals; and his friends in Poland
were aghast when they heard to what a living death he had been
condemned.
At the time of the count's arrest and banishment, his daughter Gabriele
was only eleven years of age. Her father's estates being confiscated,
and she a motherless child, she was adopted by her paternal aunt, an
unmarried lady of ample means, who took her to her home in Paris,
educated her, and treated her with a mother's care. But as the girl
grew older and learned to understand more fully the hopelessness of her
father's fate, she resolved at all costs to share his exile, and to do
what lay in her power to alleviate and sweeten his terrible lot. Her
aunt, fearful of allowing a young girl to undertake a mission so
terrible, and being too infirm to accompany her, did all that she could
to turn her from her purpose. But with increasing years the girl's
determination became ever stronger. She grew up quickly into a
thoughtful strong-willed maiden, full of patriotic ardour, of passionate
resentment against the Russian government, and of an overflowing love
for the father whose affection she remembered so well, and whose noble
qualities she had not been too young to appreciate. While grateful for
all the kindness her aunt had showered upon her, she was possessed by an
overmastering sense of duty to her father. At last, when she was nearly
seventeen, but in looks and mind older than her years, she threatened to
set forth without assistance if her aunt refused her assent and help.
Having no alternative the poor lady yielded, only stipulating that
Gabriele's old nurse should accompany her. For some months they vainly
tried to get permission from St. Petersburg for the girl to join her
father. In the case of ordinary criminals no difficulty was usually
made; it was clear that, as happens so often in Russia, the political
offence was to be visited more heavily than the worst of crimes. Then
she started without permission, hoping to obtain the necessary
authorization at Vladivostok. She was provided with letters of
introduction to a Polish family in Siberia, and one to Father Mayenobe,
whose sister had been a teacher at the pension Gabriele had attended in
Paris. But the outbreak of the war had so much disorganized things that
the Polish friends were not to be found. She arrived in Vladivostok;
there her request for permission to go to Sakhalin had been referred by
one official to another, shelved, and finally ignored. Then, friendless
and despairing, she had written to the missionary asking his advice. He
had already heard of her from his sister. Riding at once into
Vladivostok he endeavoured to get the required permission; but the
governor and officials had something more important to consider than the
romantic impulses of a Polish school-girl, and they politely shunted all
his representations. At his suggestion Gabriele and her nurse had
returned with him to his little mission station in the hills, where they
had since remained, hoping that in course of time they would gain their
object.
When Jack was well enough to leave his bedroom and share the simple life
of the missionary and his household, it was apparent that the two young
people were drawn together by the common circumstances of their fate.
From the first moment Jack had felt a strong admiration for the girl
whose resourcefulness had saved him from capture; while Gabriele
regarded his position as even worse than her own, for she knew at any
rate where her father was. They had many long conversations together;
the girl put her own sorrows into the background, and entered heartily
into Jack's perplexities and plans. Father Mayenobe often joined them
in talking things over, and soon won Jack's admiration for his
character, and respect for his wise counsel.
Jack had opportunities of seeing something and learning more of his new
friend's mission work. Jean Mayenobe had been a favourite pupil of
Monsieur Venault, the young nobleman who gave up his career as a
courtier of Louis XVIII, and devoted his whole fortune and forty-two
years of his life to his labour of love in Manchuria. A great part of a
French missionary's work consists in relieving the poor and sick and
caring for orphans. He does little actual preaching of the Gospel; he
conducts service in a small church or oratory attached to his house, but
converts are made chiefly through the agency of native Christians, and
through the training of orphan children from tender years. The priest
dresses and fares little better than the poorest of his flock, and is
never absent from his charge, fulfilling with absolute literalness the
Divine command.
One day a Korean youth in training for the priesthood came in with a
message from the Sister in charge of the orphanage at Almazovsk. He
remained for several days in the house. Observing his manly open
countenance and his air of energy and enthusiasm, so much in contrast to
the average Korean's flabby effeminacy, Jack understood what an
influence for good the Christian missionary can wield.
The talk in the little mission-house turned again and again upon the
mystery of Mr. Brown's fate.
Father Mayenobe confessed that he was unable to make a likely guess as
to the merchant's whereabouts.
"There are so many places in Siberia to which he may have been sent.
Sakhalin, you suggest? Sakhalin is little used now for political
prisoners, although, as in Count Walewski's case, some few are still
sent there."
"How am I to find out? It is the uncertainty that is so terrible."
"I can think of no safe means. If the Russians are determined to keep
his whereabouts secret----"
"That is itself an admission that they are in the wrong," interrupted
Gabriele.
"It may be. I was going to say that if that is their determination it
will be very difficult to trace him, and the only likely course would be
to follow up enquiries along the railway."
"That is almost hopeless in present circumstances. The war has
disorganized everything. Besides, how am I to get into Moukden again?"
"Why attempt it? Why not try to gain the coast and make for home, and
trust to diplomatic representations at St. Petersburg?"
"No, no, father, I certainly disagree with you," cried Gabriele. "You
know how slowly diplomacy works. Think of it; Monsieur Brown may pass
months, perhaps years, in the most terrible uncertainty and suspense.
No; if I were in his place I would do as he means to do. Oh, I wish I
were a man!"
"But think of the danger! If he were to go as a European, he would be
set upon by Chinese in the out-of-the-way parts through which he must
pass. In the towns the English and the French are respected when other
Europeans are not, but in the country parts all alike are foreign
devils, of less account than pigs. If he got safely within the Russian
lines he would probably be arrested as a spy and shot. His only chance
is to go as a Chinaman."
"As a Chinaman?"
"Yes, disguised to the best of our ability."
Gabriele looked dubiously at Jack, as though questioning whether any
disguise would serve.
"What do you say yourself, Monsieur Brown?" asked the missionary.
"I must risk it, father. I have been long enough in China to know the
difficulties and dangers in my way; I don't underrate them, I assure
you. But anything is better than this harrowing uncertainty. I could
not remain idle; I feel I must do something to clear up the mystery,
even though I should be venturing on a forlorn hope."
"Well, my son, I will not dissuade you. Fortune favours the brave, they
say. You are determined to go; God go with you! But we must think of
how it is to be done."
"I must go as a Chinaman, that is certain. It had better be as a
southern Chinaman. Mademoiselle perhaps does not know that the spoken
language of the north and south are so unlike that natives of the one
can only communicate with the other by written characters or by pidgin
English. I can't write Chinese, and if I pretend to be quite illiterate
(as indeed I am from the Chinese point of view) I may hope to pass
muster. I can speak pidgin English. We had a Canton servant in
Shanghai with whom I spoke nothing else, and we use it still with the
servants in Moukden."
"But there is a greater difficulty--the difficulty of feature. You would
pass better in Canton as a Manchu, than as a Cantonese in Manchuria."
"I can only risk it. A little saffron and henna----"
"And a pigtail, Monsieur Brown?--will you have to wear a pigtail?" said
Gabriele.
"Yes, unluckily," said Jack with a rueful smile. "My own hair won't
suffice. But false pigtails are common enough in China. I shall ask
your help with that, Mademoiselle."
"It would amuse me--if it were not so terribly serious."
"You will go as a Chinaman, then," said the priest. "But you must have a
story to tell on the way if you are questioned: have you thought of
that?"
"Yes. Suppose I give out that I am the servant of a Moukden mandarin,
returning from a special mission to Hun-chun, hinting perhaps at
anti-Russian intrigue?"
Father Mayenobe stroked his beard.
"It is inevitable," he said. "For you this is a state of war, and in
war the first principle is to deceive the enemy. Still, I do not like
your venture. The more I think of it, the more heavy do the odds appear
against success."
"Father, do not let us go into that again," pleaded Gabriele. "Can you
suggest any better plan for Monsieur Brown?"
"I confess I cannot. Well, let it be so, then. I will do all in my
power to help you, my son."
A fortnight passed away. The wet season had begun, and though the
rainfall was not so continuous as is commonly the case, the streams were
swelled to overflowing and the rough tracks rendered impassable. The
mission station, being on a hillside, suffered less than huts on the
lower ground. During the unfavourable weather much anxious care was
given to Jack's preparations. The costume was got ready in every
detail; Gabriele with her own hands plaited the pigtail and wadded the
loose tunic and pantaloons. At last all was in readiness, and Jack only
awaited a fine day to set off.
One afternoon, when the sun was hot, raising a thick vapour from the
sodden fields, Min-chin came running into the house with the news that a
party of Buriats were riding up the hill. It happened that Father
Mayenobe had taken advantage of the change of weather to visit some of
his little flock a few miles off. Without a moment's delay Jack
hastened to the hollow tree, and was safe inside by the time the
horsemen rode up. They surrounded the house, and the officer, an older
man than the lieutenant whom Gabriele had discomfited, alighted at the
door and called for the priest. Gabriele appeared. It was evident from
the officer's manner that he had heard of her.
"Mademoiselle," he said in French, "you will please give me a plain
answer. A stranger has been seen in and about this house. Who is he?"
"Oh! you mean the catechumen from Almazovsk?"
The captain looked hard at her.
"Come, Mademoiselle, where is the man?"
"The catechumen? He is gone. He went three days ago, all through the
rain. He would not remain, though Father Mayenobe pressed him to wait
in hope of finer weather. You seem to doubt me," added the girl. "The
house has been already searched once, in Father Mayenobe's absence; I
assure you there is nobody in it but our servants; if you will not
accept my assurance you had better search again."
She moved away, and began to occupy herself with simple household
matters, completely ignoring the Russians. The captain did not go
shamefacedly about his work as the lieutenant had done; he searched the
little house thoroughly, ransacking every hole and corner. The task did
not take him long; he found nothing. Coming out again, he beckoned to a
man in civilian costume whom Gabriele had not previously noticed. As he
rode forward, she started; but in an instant recovered herself. He
spoke a few words to the captain; then the latter, with a curt word of
farewell to the girl, gave his men the order to ride away. Gabriele did
not like his look; he had seemed too easily satisfied, and consulted
with the civilian; and she sent two of the servants to keep watch at the
only convenient approaches to the settlement. Her precaution was
justified. Two or three hours later the party rode back at a gallop.
The alarm was given by one of the sentinels, and Jack had time to get
back into the serviceable beech before they arrived. A second search
was made, this also fruitless; then the horsemen finally departed,
convinced against their will that they had come once more on a false
scent.
When Jack left his hiding-place he saw by the expression of Gabriele's
face that she had something to tell him. A red spot burned on each
cheek, and her eyes were blazing.
"How dare he! How dare he!" she exclaimed. "Oh, if I could have killed
him! It was Ladislas Streleszki, the traitor, the villain, the man who
betrayed my father. He was our steward; we did not know for a long time
who had done that foul deed; but when my father was arrested Streleszki
disappeared, and it was many months before we understood."
"Do you mean, Mademoiselle, that he is now a Russian officer?"
"No, no; but when they came the second time he was with them."
"Did he not recognize you?"
"No; it is six years since he saw me, and I have changed very much. I
was afraid he might; I thought perhaps a chance word from one of the
officers in Vladivostok through whom my applications have passed, had
brought him here to persecute me. But it cannot be so; he hardly looked
at me. I knew him at once; he has altered little; his hair is turning
grey; but I could never mistake him; one eyelid droops and----"
"Indeed!" cried Jack with a start. "Is it his left eyelid?"
"Yes. Oh, why do you ask?"
"Sowinski, my father's enemy, has the same defect. Did you hear him
speak, Mademoiselle?"
"Yes; his voice is gruff and coarse."
"Then Streleszki and Sowinski are the same man. Good heavens, we have
indeed had a narrow escape! It would have been all up with me if I had
been found, and I fear your fate would have been sealed too. I am to
blame for staying here so long. I must not bring you into danger again.
I will go to-day."
*CHAPTER VIII*
*A Custom of Cathay*
The Forbidden Mountain--Two from Canton--Clutching at Straws--Ipsos
Custodes--A Question of Dollars--The Yamen--The Majesty of the
Law--Judge and Jury--The Cage--Torture--Mr. Wang--Benevolence and Aid
"Hai-yah!"
"Ph'ho!"
"Fan-yun!"
"Fan-kwei!"
"Look at his eyes! How big! Round as the moon. See how they goggle and
glare!"
"Yah! Ugly beast! His nose! Look at it! Like the beak of a hawk."
"And his hair! Ch'hoy! Like the fleece of a sheep."
"And his clothes! Ragged as a quail's tail."
"No doubt of it, he is a foreign devil, ugly pig."
"Why still alive? Kill him at once, say I. Foreign devils are
dangerous to keep. One come, thousands follow. Kill at once; if we had
done that with the Russians, no more trouble. He will bring ill-luck on
the village. What luck have we had since the Russians came digging into
the Hill of a Thousand Perfumes? Who can say how many demons they let
loose?"
"Yah! Who has found ginseng since then, who? Nothing but ill-luck now.
An Pow dead, strong as he was; Sun Soo drowned in the river; all our
oxen carried off by Ah Lum and his Chunchuses. Hai! hai! And this
foreign devil will make things worse. Why did they not chop off his
head at once?"
To this conversation, carried on within a few feet of him, Jack listened
in a somewhat apathetic spirit. He was utterly dejected, worn out,
humiliated. He lay in a large wooden cage near the headman's house in
the village of Tang-ho-kou in the Long White Mountains. It was a
secluded spot, in a district supposed to be sacred to the emperor's
ancestors, where it was sacrilege even for a Chinaman to tread. The
inhabitants were an exclusive community, ruled by a guild, owning only
nominal allegiance to the emperor, and essentially a self-governed
republic. They were unmolested, for government is lax in Manchuria, and
the Long White Mountains are far from the capital and difficult ground
to police; theoretically the guildsmen went in danger of their heads,
practically they were monarch of all they surveyed.
A group of the villagers was collected on this July evening about the
cage, discussing the foreign prisoner, interrupting their conversation
to snarl at him.
"It is true; his head ought to be chopped off, but they were afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of what might be done to them. The illustrious viceroy at Moukden is
very strict. Even a foreign devil may not be killed without leave.
Why? Because if one is killed, there is trouble. The kings of the
foreign devils are angry, and many good Chinese heads have to fall. They
have sent to ask leave to behead the barbarian: better still, to slice
him. He fought like a hill tiger when they caught him, and two men even
now lie wounded."
"How did they catch him?"
"A Canton man, mafoo to his excellency General Ping at Moukden, overtook
him riding in the hills. He was making a bird's noise with his lips;
that was suspicious. But the Canton man was wary. He spoke to him as a
friend, and rode alongside. Where did he come from? Thus asked the
Canton man. The barbarian shook his head and answered in pidgin, the
tongue of the foreign devil in the south. Yah! That was his ruin. Our
Canton friend also speaks pidgin. 'You come from Canton?' says he.
'Yes.' 'What part? Where did you live? Do you know this place or
that? What is your business?' Those were his questions; a shrewd
fellow, the Canton man. He left him at the next village; then followed
with six strong men. They got ahead of him, hid in a copse by the
roadside, and when the foreign devil came up, rushed out upon him. They
were seven; but it was a hard fight. Ch'hoy! These barbarians are in
league with a thousand demons; that is why they are so fierce and
strong. But they got him at last, and brought him here; worse luck! he
shall suffer for it yet."
The crowd drew nearer to their helpless prisoner, stared at him, jeered,
cast stones and offal, and, worked up by the teller of the story, were
only kept from tearing him to pieces by the guard and the bars of the
cage. Exposed without shelter to the broiling sun, Jack was dizzy and
faint. His clothes had been torn to tatters in the struggle, his
pigtail wrenched from his head. He had had no food for many hours, and,
what was worse, no water.
He had been able to catch the gist of what the chief speaker in the
crowd had said. How stupid of him to whistle--a thing a Chinaman never
does! How unlucky that he had met a man from Canton! The dialects of
the north and south differ so much that by professing to be a Southerner
he had come so far on his journey undetected; but in conversation with a
Cantonese his accent had inevitably betrayed him. And now he knew that
he could expect no mercy. A European carries his life in his hands in
China whenever he ventures alone out of the beaten track. In Manchuria
just then, with the natives embittered by the wanton destruction of
their towns and villages, the chances of a captive being spared were
infinitesimal. Only fear of the mandarins had apparently caused them to
hold their hands in his case; but Jack had little reason to suppose that
the mandarins would interfere to protect him. No order would be issued;
but the villagers would receive a hint to do as they pleased; and Jack
well knew what their pleasure would be. In the unlikely event of
diplomatic pressure being afterwards brought to bear, the mandarins
could still repudiate responsibility, and the villagers would suffer;
several, probably the most innocent, would lose their heads. But Jack
knew that he had placed himself outside the protection of the British
flag. Neither the mandarins nor the villagers had anything to fear.
The sun went down; the village watchman beat his wooden gong; and the
group gradually dispersed. Only the guard was left. Parched with
thirst, Jack ventured to address him, asking for a cup of water. The
man, with more humanity than the most, after some hesitation acceded.
He was generous, and brought also a mess of rice. Greatly refreshed by
the meal, scanty though it was, Jack felt his spirits rising; with more
of hope he began to canvass the possibilities in his favour. But he had
to admit that they were slight. There was just one ray of light, dim
indeed; but a pin-point glimmer is precious in the dark. He had heard
the villagers mention the brigand Ah Lum, the chief of the Chunchuses,
who had levied upon their oxen. This was the chief whom Wang Shih had
left Moukden to join. If Jack could only communicate with Wang Shih
there might still be a chance for him.
He began a whispered conversation with his guard, and learnt that, a few
days before, Ah Lum's band was known to be encamped in the hills some
twenty miles to the south-west. It was resting and recruiting its
strength after a severe brush with a force of Cossacks, who had almost
succeeded in cutting it to pieces during a raid on the railway.
"Do you know Wang Shih?"
"No; Ah Lum has several lieutenants. His band numbers nearly eight
hundred; there were more than a thousand before the fight with the
Russians."
"You know what a dollar is?"
"It is worth many strings of cash."
"Well, if you will take word to Mr. Wang about me, I will give you fifty
dollars."
"Where will you get them from?" asked the man suspiciously. "Were you
not searched, and everything taken from you?"
"True, I was searched; but the foreign devil has ways of getting money
that the Chinaman does not understand. It is a small thing I ask you to
do. The reward is great; fifty dollars, hundreds of strings of cash.
You will never get such a chance again."
True to the oriental instinct for haggling, the man argued and discussed
for some time before he at last agreed to Jack's proposition.
"You must make haste," said Jack. "If the messenger to the mandarin
returns before you, I shall be killed and you will get no money."
The man at once explained that it was impossible for him to leave the
village; he must find a messenger.
"Very well. He is to find Wang Shih and say that Jack Brown from
Moukden is in peril of death. You can say the name?"
"Chack Blown," said the man.
"That will do. Now, when can you send your man?"
The guard said that he would be shortly relieved; then he would lose no
time. In a few minutes a man came to take his place, and Jack, with
mingled hopes and fears, settled himself in a corner of the cage, to
sleep if possible. Half an hour later the guard returned with the
welcome news that a messenger had started, after bargaining for twenty
of the fifty dollars, and would travel all night on foot, for he had no
horse, and to hire one would awaken suspicion.
"But," added the guard, "he is a trusty man, much respected, and a great
hater of foreign devils, like all good Chinamen. If he had had his way
the honourable foreign devil would have been executed this afternoon."
"Then how comes it," asked Jack, "that he is willing to go as
messenger?"
The guide looked puzzled.
"Surely the honourable barbarian understands? Did I not explain that I
promised Mr. Fu twenty dollars?"
Even in his misery Jack could not forbear a smile. His messenger was
doubtless the man who had led the chorus of threats and insults a few
hours before. The man's convictions were no doubt still the same; but
the prospect of a few dollars had completely divorced precept from
practice.
Then Jack reflected that the enterprise was a poor chance at the best.
There was little likelihood of the man finding Wang Shih in time, and if
he found him, it was uncertain whether his sense of gratitude was
sufficiently keen to bring him to the rescue. Yet, in spite of all,
Jack's impatient eager thought followed the messenger, as though hope
could give him winged feet.
He spent a miserable night. In that hill country even the summer nights
are cold; and his clothes having been well-nigh torn from his back, he
had scant protection. He slept but little, lying awake for hours
listening to the mice and rats scampering around the cage, and to the
long-drawn melancholy howls of the village dogs.
Soon after dawn he heard a great commotion in the village. His pulse
beat high; he hoped that Wang Shih had arrived. But when his friendly
guardian came to resume duty, his heart sank, for he learnt that the
headman's messenger to the local mandarin had returned, bringing word
that the barbarian should be suitably dealt with by the guild. The
mandarin had evidently washed his hands of the matter; the guard had no
doubt that when the headman was ready Jack would be taken before him,
and he must expect no mercy. The people had never ceased to grumble at
the delay in executing him; and nothing could be hoped of the headman,
for he was a native of Harbin, and bore a bitter grudge against the
Russians, who in constructing their railway had cut through his family
graveyard, and in defiling the bones of his ancestors had done him the
worst injury a Chinaman can suffer. Jack was to have no breakfast; his
captors were so sure of his fate that they thought it would be a mere
waste to feed him.
An hour passed--a terrible hour of suspense. The villagers began to
gather round the cage, and their looks of gleeful and malicious
satisfaction struck Jack cold. All at once they broke into loud shouting
as a posse of armed yamen-runners forced their way through. Jack was
taken out of the cage, and, surrounded by the runners and followed by
the jabbering crowd, was marched to the headman's house. He there found
himself in the presence of a dignified Chinaman, a glossy black
moustache encircling his mouth and chin, his long finger-nails denoting
that he did not condescend to menial work. He was in fact a prosperous
farmer, who, besides possessing large estates (to which he had no title)
in the Forbidden Country, carried on an extensive trade in ginseng, a
plant to which extraordinary medicinal virtues are attributed by the
Chinese, and so valuable that a single root will sometimes fetch as much
as L15 in the Peking market. The headman, feeling the importance of the
occasion, had got himself up in imitation of a magistrate, wearing a
round silk buttoned cap and a blue tunic.
He had evidently made a study of the procedure in a mandarin's yamen.
He was the only man seated at a long table; at each end stood a scribe
with a dirty book, which might or might not have been a book of law,
outspread before him; at his right hand stood a man with a lighted pipe,
from which during the proceedings the headman took occasional whiffs; in
front stood a group of runners in weird costumes, wearing black cloth
caps with red tassels. From the sour expression on the Chinaman's face
Jack knew that he was already judged and condemned; but he held his head
high, and gazed unflinchingly on the stern-visaged Chinaman.
It is proper for a prisoner to take his trial on his knees, and one of
the runners approached Jack and sharply bade him kneel. He refused.
Two other men came up with threatening gestures, and laid hands on him
to force him down. He resisted; he had the rooted European objection to
kowtow to an Asiatic. With too much good sense to indulge himself in
heroics, he yet recalled at this moment by a freak of memory the lines
written on the heroic Private Moyse of the Buffs. His back stiffened;
there was the making of a pretty wrestling match; but the headman,
mindful of the stout fight when the prisoner was arrested, and desiring
that the proceedings should be conducted with decorum, ordered his men
to desist. Then he began his interrogatory.
"You are an Russian?"
"No, an Englishman."
"Where have you been living?"
"In Moukden."
"What have you been doing there?"
"I lived with my father."
"Who is he?"
"He is a merchant."
"What is his name?"
"He is known as Mr. Brown of Moukden."
"What did he trade in?"
"In many things. He supplied stores of all kinds."
"To the Russians?"
"Yes."
"Assisting them to build the iron road that is the ruin of Manchuria?"
"I believe your august emperor gave the Russians permission."
"Do not dare to mention the Son of Heaven. Do not dare, I say, you
foreign devil! Where is your father now?"
"I do not know. He was arrested by the Russians."
"Why?"
"They accused him of giving information to the Japanese."
"Did he give information?"
"No."
"Ch'hoy! Then clearly he was in league with the Russians. He, too, is
worthy of death. What brought you into the Shan-yan-alin mountains?"
"I am trying to find my father. I was on my way to Moukden."
"Do you know that the Ch'ang-pai-shan is sacred to the emperor? Nobody
is allowed to tread these hills, on pain of death."
"I am in your honour's august company."
The headman winced and blinked. That was a home-thrust. He grew angry.
"Enough! You are a foreign devil. By your own confession you have been
in league with the Russians, assisting them in their impious work,
disturbing the feng-shui in the most sacred city of the virtuous Son of
Heaven. You are found in insolent disguise within the limits of the
Forbidden Mountains; you resisted lawful arrest, to the severe injury of
two of my officers. It is clear that you are a vile example of the
outer barbarians who are scheming to drive the Manchu from his
immemorial lands, defiling the graves of our fathers, and bringing our
sons to shame. You are not fit to live; every one of your offences is
punishable with death; in their sum you are lightly touched by my
sentence upon you, that you suffer the ling-ch'ih, and then be beheaded.
Confess your crimes."
Jack had answered the man's questions briefly and calmly, and listened
with unmoved countenance to his speech. The decision was only what he
had expected. The worst was to come. He knew that by the laws and
customs of China he could not be executed until he had acknowledged the
justice of the sentence and made open confession of his crime; he knew
also that, failing to confess voluntarily, he would be tortured by all
the most fiendish methods devised by Chinese ingenuity until confession
was extorted from his lacerated, half-inanimate frame. The end would be
the same; for a moment, in his helplessness and despair, he thought it
would perhaps be better to acquiesce at once and get it over. But then
pride of race stepped in. Could he, innocent as he felt himself to be,
act a lie by even formally acquiescing in the sentence? He did not know
how far his fortitude would enable him to bear the tortures in store;
but he would not allow the mere prospect to cow him. He had paused but
a moment.
"I have nothing to confess," he said.
The headman gave a grunt of satisfaction.
"Put him in the cage," he said.
Jack's blood ran cold in spite of himself. The word used by his judge
was not the name of the cage in which he had already been confined, but
meant an instrument of torture. Amid the exultant hoots of the crowd of
natives, who spat on the ground as he passed, he was hauled from the
presence and taken to a yard near by. In the centre of it stood a
bamboo cage somewhat more than five feet high. Its top consisted of two
movable slabs of wood which, when brought together, left a hole large
enough to encircle a man's neck, but too small for his head to pass
through. The height of the cage was so adjusted, that when the prisoner
was inside with his head protruding from the top he could only avoid
being hung by the neck so long as his feet rested on a brick. By and by
that would be removed; he might defer strangulation for a short time by
standing on tiptoe, but that would soon become too painful. Jack had
never seen the instrument in use, but he had heard of it, and he quailed
at the imagination of the torture he was to endure.
His arms were bound together; he was locked into the cage; his head was
enclosed; and the mob jeered and yelled as, the brick being knocked away
after a few minutes, he instinctively raised himself on his toes to ease
the pressure on his neck. How long could he endure it? he wondered.
Had the messenger failed to find Wang Shih? Had some perverse fate
removed the Chunchuse band at this moment of dire peril? Humanly
speaking, his salvation depended on Wang Shih, and on him alone: was his
last hope to prove vain? Should he now yield, confess, and spare
himself further torture? Already he was suffering intense pain; he
gained momentary relief for his feet by drawing up his legs, a movement
which brought his whole weight upon his neck; but that was endurable
only for a few seconds. He closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the
yelling mob; pressed his lips together lest a moan should escape him: "I
will never give in, never give in." he said to himself; "pray God it
may not be long."
The pain became excruciating; he no longer saw or heard the yelling
fiends gloating over every spasm of his tortured body; he was fast
sinking into unconsciousness, and the headman, fearful of losing his
victim, was about to give the order for his temporary release, when
suddenly his ears caught the sound of galloping horses. The noise
around him lulled; he heard loud shouts in the distance, and drawing
ever nearer. Then the crowd scattered like chaff, and through their
midst rode a brawny figure brandishing a riding-whip of bamboo. Dashing
through the amazed throng at the head of thirty shouting bandits he
leapt from his horse, sprang to the cage, tore away the catch holding
the two panels together, and Jack fell, an unconscious heap, to the
bottom of the cage.
The first alarm being now passed, the villagers raised a hubbub. They
clustered about the new-comers, protesting with all their might that the
prisoner was merely a foreign devil, an impious pig. But Wang Shih
cleared a space with his whip; then, springing to the saddle again, he
raised his voice in a shout that dominated and silenced the clamour of
the mob.
"Hai-yah! What are you doing, men of Tang-ho-kou? Is this foreigner a
Russian that you treat him thus? A fine thing truly! You skulk in your
fangtzes, afraid to come out with the honourable Ah Lum and me and fight
the Russians, and yet you are bold enough to catch a solitary man, a
friend of the Chinaman, and to misuse him thus because he is alone!
Know you not that he is an enemy of the Russians? They have imprisoned
his father; it is reverence for his father that brings him here. Is
filial piety so little esteemed in Tang-ho-kou to-day? Ch'hoy! I see
your headman aping a lordly mandarin; let him listen. I say you are
lucky I do not burn your village and execute a dozen of you as you were
about to execute the stranger. But I will be merciful. I will take
from you a contribution of five thousand taels for my chief; and your
headman--ch'hoy! he shall stand for half an hour in the cage. That
shall suffice. But beware how you offend again. Learn to distinguish
your friends from your enemies--an Englishman from the Russians whom the
dwarfs of Japan are helping us to drive back to the frozen north. Take
heed of what I say--I, Wang Shih, the worthless servant of his
excellency Ah Lum, the virtuous commander of many honourable brigands."
This speech made an impression upon the crowd. The headman was
beginning to slink away, but Wang Shih noticed the movement and sent one
of his men after him. In spite of his protests he was dragged to the
cage, from which Jack, now fully conscious, had been removed; he was
fastened in it, and compelled to tiptoe as his erstwhile prisoner had
done. But after some minutes Jack, with a vivid remembrance of his own
sufferings, interceded for the wretched man, and Wang Shih released him,
bidding him collect from the villagers the tribute he had demanded. The
presence of the thirty well-armed Chunchuses was a powerful spur to
haste, and within half an hour the amount was raised. Meanwhile Jack's
neck had been bathed, and his muscles were beginning to recover from the
strain to which they had been put. He declared that he was well enough
to ride away with his deliverers. He had first to pay the guard the
fifty dollars agreed upon. Not wishing to disclose the hiding-place in
the soles of his boots where he kept his notes, he borrowed from Wang
Shih the necessary sum in bar silver. Then, mounted upon a horse
borrowed from the headman's own stables, he rode with the brigands from
the village.
*CHAPTER IX*
*Ah Lum*
Ishmaels--The Chief--Fair Words--Wise Saws--Ah Fu's Tutors--An Honorary
Appointment--Chopping Maxims--A Deputation--Hunting the Boar--A Forest
Monarch--Charging Home--The Knife--A Close Call
The Chunchuse camp, Jack learnt as he rode, was some thirty miles
distant in the hills. It had been shifted; it was always shifting; that
was why the intervention of Wang Shih had been so nearly too late.
Jack was somewhat amused when he reflected on the strange company in
which he found himself. He had heard a good deal about these
redoubtable bandits, but never till this day had he seen any of them.
Their bands were, he knew, very miscellaneous in their composition.
Escaped prisoners, whether guilty, or innocent like Wang Shih,
frequently sought refuge with one or other of the brigand chiefs. Men
who had been ruined in business, or were too indolent for regular work;
men possessed of grievances against the mandarins, or by a sheer lust of
adventure and lawlessness; helped to swell their numbers; and Mr. Brown
had once remarked that they reminded him of the motley band that
gathered about David in the cave Adullam: "Every one that was in
distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was
discontented".
The name Chunchuse means "red beard", and was originally applied by the
natives to any foreigner. Since the bandits were almost all
clean-shaven, like the majority of Chinamen, Jack could only conjecture
that they were styled "red beards" from some fancied resemblance of
their predatory ways to the methods of the hated foreigners. They were
held in terror by all the law-abiding inhabitants, and the machinery of
the Chinese government was totally unable to keep them down. Since the
coming of the Russians they had grown in numbers and in power. Knowing
every inch of the country they were able to wage an effective guerrilla
warfare against the invaders, often surprising scouting parties of
Siberian riflemen or Cossacks, raiding isolated camps, damaging the
railways, and capturing convoys.
Jack was interested in taking stock of his strange companions. They
were tall strapping fellows, powerfully built, with muscular and
athletic frames, and they included men of every race known in Manchuria.
Their costumes differed as greatly as the men themselves. Some were
clad in the usual garb of Chinamen; others had black cloth jackets with
brass buttons, tight-fitting trousers, and long riding-boots reaching to
the knees. Their heads were covered with knotted handkerchiefs of red,
black, or yellow cotton, beneath which their pigtails were coiled up out
of sight. Each carried a rifle and a revolver stuck in his leather
belt.
On the way to the camp Wang Shih gave Jack a few particulars about the
band, in which he had already risen to a high position. Ah Lum, the
chief, had been for many years notorious for the daring with which he
would swoop with a few men on rich merchants travelling through the
country, even though they might be escorted by Chinese soldiers. But
since the outbreak of the war such sources of gain had ceased, and he
had gradually collected a very large following for the purpose of
conducting irregular operations against his country's despoilers. All
were magnificent horsemen; the Russians had in vain endeavoured to hunt
them down; and the very rifles they carried were the spoil of successful
raids.
After a ride of about five hours through the hills, Wang Shih's party
reached the Chunchuse camp. It was a strange mixture of shelters, many
of them huts built of the stalks of kowliang, yet arranged, as Jack
noticed, in a certain order. Conspicuous in the middle of the camp was
a large tent, in which, as they approached, Jack recognized the Russian
service pattern. This too was evidently part of the spoil of a raid.
At the outskirts of the camp Wang Shih dismissed his men, proceeding
alone with Jack to the tent. It was the head-quarters of the chief.
There was no sign of state, no sentinel at the entrance; Wang Shih rode
up unquestioned, and unceremoniously shouted into the tent for Mr. Ah.
If Jack had expected to see the typical brigand of romance he must have
been disappointed. Ah Lum was the shortest member of the band, a wiry
figure with a slight stoop. His appearance was that of a university
professor rather than a warrior. He was apparently between forty and
fifty years of age, with an intelligent and thoughtful cast of
countenance, enhanced by a pair of horn spectacles over which he looked
searchingly when Jack was introduced to him. Ah Lum was, in fact, a man
of considerable education and even learning. He had taken the highest
honours in the examinations for the successive degrees of Cultivated
Talent, Uplifted Literary Man, and Exalted Bookworm; and the poems he
composed when competing for a place in the Board of Civil Office were
acknowledged as superior to anything recently written in the Mandarin
language. But his success on this occasion awoke a bitter jealousy in
the breast of a "same-year-man" who had kept pace with him throughout
his career until this last promotion. The disappointed candidate
adopted a characteristically Chinese mode of wreaking vengeance. He
committed suicide on Ah Lum's door-step. According to Chinese belief Ah
Lum would not only be haunted ever after by his rival's spirit, but
would also have to clear himself before the mandarin's court of a charge
of murder. Unluckily the mandarin was an enemy of Ah Lum; his price for
a favourable judgment was more than the Exalted Bookworm could offer;
and the latter, seeing that his condemnation was certain, discreetly
vacated his desk at the Board of Civil Office and betook himself to the
mountains.
Jack only learnt all this gradually. His first impression of Ah Lum as
a spectacled, courteous, polished savant left him wondering how such a
man had succeeded in imposing his authority on the hard-living,
hard-faring, reckless set of outlaws who composed his band. That he had
some personal force of character was a foregone conclusion, for his
position could depend on nothing else. He received Jack very kindly,
and, having Heard his story from Wang Shih, promised to do all he could
to help him.
"Mr. Wang," he said, bowing to his lieutenant, "does me the honour to be
my friend. Has he not rendered me great services? Surely it becomes me
to serve his friends when my insignificant capabilities permit.
Meanwhile deign, sir, to regard all our contemptible possessions as your
own, and excuse our numberless shortcomings. Where good-will is the
cook, the dish is already seasoned."
He paused, as though expecting a comment on the proverb.
"Quite so," said Jack, feeling that he ought to say something.
The chief proceeded at once to warn him of the danger of pursuing
further his attempt to enter Moukden in disguise. If he tried to pass
as a Canton man he might at any moment meet a real Cantonese, as had
already happened to his cost; and, besides, the Cantonese were not loved
in Manchuria. As a Manchu, on the other hand, he would be apt to betray
himself in endless little ways. However, if he were bent on it, Ah Lum
would do what he could to secure him good treatment. Meanwhile, after
what he had gone through, a few days' rest in camp would do him no harm.
"Haste is the parent of delay," he said; "whereas if one has a mind to
beat a stone, the stone will in due time have a hole in it."
Again he paused, like an actor waiting for the gallery's applause to his
tag.
"A very sound maxim," said Jack, thinking it well to humour this
singular moralist.
The chief concluded with an offer of hospitality so cordial, that Jack,
anxious as he was to pursue his mission, could not well decline it.
Wang Shih, Jack found, was third in command. His enormous strength,
allied to a bull-dog courage, had enabled him to force his way to the
front in a community where those qualities were esteemed above all
others. That they were not the only titles to respect was proved by the
position of the chief; and the longer Jack stayed in the camp the more
he was impressed by the ease and firmness with which Ah Lum swayed his
band.
The chief had a son, a boy of twelve, who from the first took a great
liking to Jack. Ah Fu was a bright boy, vivacious for a Chinese; and Ah
Lum loved him with even more than the usual Chinaman's devotion. He
doted on the child. He never tired of talking about him to Jack.
"If," he said, "a man has much money, but no child, he cannot be
reckoned rich: if he has children, but no money, he cannot be reckoned
poor. And I am blessed in my son: he is dutiful, respectful, voracious
of knowledge. 'A bad son', says the Sage, 'is as a dunning creditor; but
a good son as the repayment of a long-standing debt'."
At great pains he had kidnapped two graduates for the express purpose of
having Ah Fu carefully trained in the elements of Chinese culture.
Himself a man of education, he set the highest value on learning.
"Weeds are the only harvest of an untilled field," he would say.
"Though your sons be well disposed, yet if they be not duly instructed,
what can you expect of them but ignorance?" In addition to his daily
instruction in the philosophers and poets, the boy went through all
kinds of physical exercises--practising with the bow and the rifle,
riding a spirited little pony, learning fearless horsemanship from the
best rider in the band; and the Chunchuses rival the Cossacks in the
superb management of their steeds. Before Jack had been a day in the
camp he was requested by the chief to teach his son English. He agreed,
though he thought that in the short time he was to spend with them not
much could be done. Ah Lum was very pressing in the matter. Jack, he
was sure, had all the learning of the west (this tickled Jack; how the
fourth-form master at Sherborne would have roared!). The learning of
the east Ah Lum himself could get for the boy. In addition to the
kidnapped graduates he had his eye on an astronomer of distinction at
Kirin, and at Tieling there lived a very learned man, skilled in the
casting of horoscopes. But he had naturally few opportunities of
providing European instruction. "True doctrine cannot injure the true
scholar," he said. "An ounce of wisdom is worth a world of gold." He
was particularly anxious that Ah Fu should lack nothing in education
through his father's outlawed condition. Himself a poet, he set much
store by poetry; and having learnt from Jack that the most popular
English poet was Tennyson, he made it a special point that the boy
should from the first learn some of his poems. Jack was amused; he did
not tell the chief that poetry was not so highly esteemed in England as
in China; but happening to know a few odds and ends of Tennyson's verse,
he got Ah Fu to repeat them after him until the boy could recite them
faultlessly. Jack had his doubts whether the poems thus recited would
have been recognized by an Englishman, but that was nothing to the
point.
After a week, when he felt his strength thoroughly recruited, Jack spoke
of continuing his journey. But Ah Lum, in his politest manner, urged
excellent reasons why he should remain a little longer. It had been
raining almost continuously since his arrival; the streams were in
flood; the rivers were not fordable. Moreover, a large body of Russian
troops was moving between the camp and Moukden; and Chinamen were being
narrowly questioned and examined under suspicion of being Japanese spies
in disguise. Day after day passed; every hint of Jack's that he wished
to be off was met by some new excuse enforced by maxims, and turned by a
question as to how Ah Fu was getting on with his poetry. At last Jack
grew uneasy and suspicious; it appeared as if Ah Lum intended to keep
him as an additional tutor, unpaid. He began to think of taking French
leave, but was restrained by several considerations: the fact that he
owed his life to the brigands; the danger lest his disappearance should
cause a quarrel between Wang Shih and the chief; the hope that he might
find the Chunchuses useful in prosecuting his search; and the risk of
recapture, for he knew that the country people would certainly give him
up to the chief if they caught him.
He abandoned therefore the idea of flight, resolving to stay on with
what patience he could muster, and hoping to obtain his end by mild
persistence. But his courteous and repeated applications were met by
still more courteous and equally firm refusals--not direct refusals, but
regrets that on one pretext or another the "Ingoua superior man" could
not safely leave the camp. Ah Lum's stock of proverbs and maxims was
again drawn upon. "Though powerful drugs be nauseous to the taste, they
are beneficial to the stomach. So, candid advice may be unpleasant to
the ear, but it is profitable for the conduct. The carpenter makes the
cangue that he himself may be doomed to wear."
"Exactly."
There was a want of conviction in Jack's stereotyped reply. He was
growing tired of these eternal copy-book headings, which seemed to him
often the merest platitudes--tired of expressing the assent which his
sententious host always looked for. He asked Wang Shih to expostulate
with the chief; but when the Chinaman ventured to suggest that the young
Englishman's dutiful regard for his father ought to be respected and his
errand furthered, he got a good snubbing for his pains.
"It is easy to convince a wise man," said Ah Lum with a snap; "but to
reason with fools, that is a difficult undertaking. You cannot turn a
somersault in an oyster-shell."
Greatly daring, Wang Shih cited a maxim very pertinent, he thought, to
the case.
"True, honourable sir; but is it not written: 'Of a hundred virtues,
filial piety is the best'?"
"No doubt," retorted Ah Lum, still more snappishly. "But remember that
if a man has good desires, heaven will assuredly grant them."
And Jack had to kick his heels, and drum poetry into Ah Fu, thinking
disrespectfully of proverbial philosophy.
Thus three weeks passed. During this period the band grew steadily
stronger. Jack reckoned that it now numbered at least eleven hundred.
The rains having ceased, the camp was moved some twenty miles to the
north-west, not in a direct line to Moukden, but nearer to that city. To
Jack this was a crumb of comfort; but there were disadvantages in the
change, for with the finer weather and the removal to somewhat lower
ground, the midges and mosquitoes became more lively and troublesome,
and he spent many a hot hour of pain and smart.
Another fortnight went by. The Chunchuses had been inactive so far as
brigandage was concerned, and, except that they did no work, they might
have been nothing but a peaceful mountain tribe. But one day a
deputation came to the chief from a village lying in the midst of a
woody and well-cultivated valley a few miles from the camp. They
announced that their plantations of young bamboos were being devastated
by a herd of wild boars with which they were unable to cope, and they
had been deputed to beg the Chunchuse chief to come to their assistance.
Ah Lum was never unwilling to please the country people when he saw a
chance of gaining
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