Kitabı oku: «The North Pacific», sayfa 7

CHAPTER XII.
BETWEEN TWO FIRES

"I say, Farmer, can't we have a little target-practice and hit something accidentally – even that Chinese junk over there would do – so as to stir up some sort of a scrap?"

Lieutenant Staples, addressing his commander familiarly by the old Academy nickname, yawned and stretched his arms in most undignified fashion as he spoke. The two officers were on the bridge of the Osprey, which lay at anchor off Chefoo. A gentle breeze barely stirred the placid waters of the bay, and the sun gave a hint of the torrid days that were to come.

"I'm tired of sitting here, like a toad in a puddle, aren't you?" added the tall lieutenant, straightening himself up a little as a boatswain's mate crossed the open deck below him.

"There is a kind of a sameness about it," laughed Rexdale, adjusting a pair of field-glasses. "What sort of a craft is that yonder, Tel?"

"H'm – something under steam, anyway. Can you make her out through the glass?"

"Unless I'm mistaken, it's the Zafiro," said the commander, working the glasses for a focus. "Yes, it's the despatch-boat, bringing Starr back from Tokio, no doubt."

Ten minutes later Bob scrambled up over the rail, followed by a young man in civilian's clothes.

"Fred Larkin!" exclaimed Dave. "How on earth did he get on board the Zafiro?"

As soon as Midshipman Bob had reported himself, the war correspondent stepped up with a genial smile and shook hands warmly with the officers on the bridge.

"Fact is, I'm a stowaway, Dave," said he. "That gay young lieutenant on the gunboat would have put me in irons if it hadn't been for Bob Starr. He's a good fellow and stood by me, when I disclosed myself on the Zafiro about twenty miles out."

"Well, what am I to do with you – that's the question?" said Rexdale, laughing in spite of himself at the reporter's nonchalance. "Strictly speaking – "

"Strictly speaking, I've no business on one of Uncle Sam's war-ships without a permit from the Secretary of the Navy, or the admiral of the fleet, at least," said Larkin, with utmost good-humour. "Therefore, we won't speak strictly, until I've had time to look about a little, being under arrest, theoretically."

"I can't very well drop you overboard, old fellow," assented Rexdale, "there being a shark or two around who would gobble up even a newspaper man. But really – "

"Really, I'll leave you before night, old man," interrupted Fred, "so don't worry. Now you and Lieutenant Staples just sit down and tell a fellow what's the news from home – and hereabouts."

"But how did you manage to get on board the Zafiro?" queried Dave.

"Ah, don't ask me, and then you won't know. The movements of some of the heavenly bodies – comets, for instance, and reporters – can only be calculated from their periodic appearances, my son. Didn't you learn that at the Academy?" asked Fred, as the party of officers betook themselves to the after cabin. "Let it suffice your lieutenant-commandership that I really did go on board, and at the proper dramatic moment materialized before the astonished crew. I had a little more sail than I bargained for, not knowing that Mr. Starr had to report to the admiral before coming here."

"Then Bob didn't know – "

"Hadn't the ghost of an idea about it, upon my word of honour," said Larkin hastily. "There wasn't a more thunderstruck man on the ship than he, when I stepped on deck. I wish you could have seen his face!"

They talked of Boston friends and of the progress of the war, concerning which Rexdale could afford his friend but little enlightenment. "All sorts of reports are afloat," said he. "I see in the home papers – by the way, there's a bunch of them at your disposal – that Chefoo is called a 'fake-factory, working over-time.'"

"Not bad," said Larkin. "But so-called fakes often prove to be facts, after all. Has any attack yet been made upon Vladivostock?"

"Apparently not. They say the whole sea-front, up there, is a network of submarine mines. Jap torpedo-boats and destroyers are patrolling the sea in every direction, and have picked up one or two vessels with contraband goods. I believe there was a bombardment of the port early in the month, but it amounted to nothing."

"And on land?"

"Well, the Russians are said to have about four hundred thousand men in Manchuria, and they are arriving by the railroad at the rate of a regiment a day. The Japs probably have at least half that number on the mainland. They are swarming across the Korean Peninsula and will have Port Arthur isolated before long."

"If that is so," mused Fred, "I must move quickly."

"Move – where?"

"I'm going into Port Arthur, my boy."

"Port Arthur! You'll never get there alive – don't try it, Larkin!" exclaimed Staples earnestly. "There's a close blockade, and you'll either be sunk in the bay or at the very best be taken prisoner if you reach the shore."

"It's just that 'very best' that I'm reckoning upon," rejoined the reporter coolly. "I wanted to see you fellows before I went in, so you can allude to my whereabouts if I don't show up in a week or two. I'm an American citizen, Dave, and don't you forget it. You may be sure I won't let Russian or Jap, whichever one captures me, forget that little fact. There's no danger of my being hung as a spy, for I have my passport and credentials, and the worst they can do, when they've made their investigation, is to fire me out. All this is supposing I actually reach one 'firing-line' or the other. I've sat round in Tokio and looked at lanterns and spidery letters until I'm tired of it. The Bulletin sent me out here to get news, and I'm not going to disappoint the old man."

The day passed pleasantly enough, with stories, talk of old times and discussions of war incidents. The routine duties of naval life filled the intervals in the conversation. Late in the afternoon the officers missed their jolly companion, and enquired for him, but no one knew where he was. As evening came on they realised that the daring young reporter had kept his word and left them, it was impossible to ascertain when or by what means.

"I hope he won't get into serious trouble," said the commander anxiously.

"Oh, Larkin can take care of himself," replied Liddon, who had joined in the useless search. "He has been through one war, besides innumerable scrapes in which he came out on top. That's why the Bulletin chose him for this service."

"Evening colours!" sang one bugle after another, on the war-ships; and all hands stood with bared heads while the flags fluttered down from staff and peak.

Shortly afterward a dull boom sounded across the waters of the bay. But little attention was paid to it by the men on the Osprey, such disturbances being of daily occurrence. That shot, however, meant much to Fred Larkin.

About half an hour before he was missed, that afternoon, he had slipped over the ship's side into a Chinese sampan, or small fishing-boat, which had come alongside to dispose of its fare of fish. Fred tossed a coin to the Chinaman who was seated in the stern and pulled a broad piece of matting over himself in the bottom of the boat. All this was done in less time than it takes to tell it. If any of the Osprey's jackies saw it, he said nothing. The sympathy of a sailor always goes with a runaway, whatever the reason for the escape may be.

The owner of the sampan, understanding from a gesture of his unexpected passenger that the latter wished to reach the shore without detection, immediately cast off his painter and worked his small craft skilfully and swiftly toward the docks of Chefoo. As soon as the Osprey was hidden by another hull – that of a British man-of-war – Larkin threw off the matting gladly enough and sat up. Presently he caught sight of a large junk, just hoisting its sails. It was heavily loaded, though the character of its freight could not be ascertained.

Fred pointed to the junk, and the oarsman turned his boat toward it. A moment later he was alongside.

"Where are you bound?" he called out to the skipper.

Fortunately the latter could understand English.

"Port Arthur," he replied, but not loudly.

Fred held up a coin. The man nodded, and the correspondent jumped on board, taking in his hand the small leathern gripsack he had brought from home.

The junk proved to be coal-laden, and the captain (and owner), having made sure that no Japanese vessels were in sight, was about to make a dash for Port Arthur, where he knew he would obtain high rates for his cargo.

It soon appeared that he had underrated the watchfulness of the blockaders, for within less than an hour from leaving port the men on the junk perceived a torpedo-boat destroyer bearing down on them. The skipper calculated his chances of safe return, and decided to "keep all on" for Port Arthur. In twenty minutes the black hull of the pursuer could be plainly made out, and soon after the sound of a gun was heard. The Chinamen working the junk got as far down out of danger as possible, in their clumsy craft, and Fred followed suit. He had no desire to be killed or maimed, nor did he wish to be captured and sent back to Tokio.

He was beginning to despair of the successful issue of his adventure, when a shout from the sailors called his attention to an object dead ahead. It was a column of dense black smoke arising from the sea in the direction of Port Arthur.

A cheer rang out from the Chinamen, as they perceived the smoke. There could be no doubt that it arose from a Russian war-ship, coming out under full head of steam to meet the destroyer.

Again the Japanese gun spoke, and this time the shot struck the water within a few feet of the junk.

"They've got our range," said Fred to himself grimly. "Trust the Japs for scientific work, when it comes to firing! I might as well improve the time, though!" And drawing his note-book from his pocket he began to take notes.

The junk kept on its course, foaming through the water under pressure of her great sail until the lee rail almost went under. Clouds had arisen in the west and it was nearly dark. A search-light on the mainland flared out suddenly, and a broad ray wavered over the waves until it picked up the Japanese boat, now within less than a mile of the fleeing junk. A deep boom sounded ahead. The Russian had at last spoken, and a big lump of steel swirled through the gloom, over the great triangular sail. The Chinese craft was between two fires. The Japs shrewdly kept her in line with themselves and the enemy, so that the latter dared not fire low. The destroyer fired steadily and fiercely, hulling the junk more than once. It was evident that a crisis was at hand.

Crash! A solid six-pound shot struck the stern of the labouring White Dragon, knocking her rudder to bits and killing the skipper, who had remained bravely at the helm. The junk yawed wildly and fell off before the wind. The sailors shrieked and ran to and fro, calling upon their gods to help them.

Another shot, and the mast went by the board. But the Russian cruiser was now close at hand and engaged the Japanese boat savagely.

Fred was watching the fight and looking for a chance to hail the Russian, when a splinter struck him and he was knocked headlong into the sea.

CHAPTER XIII.
WYNNIE MAKES A BLUNDER

Edith and Wynnie found Tokio rather lonely after the two young men had gone. It was the loveliest season of the Japan year; the trees were pink with blossoms and every street and square carpeted with fallen petals. Save in the government offices and at the railway stations there was little outward sign of war. All over the empire almond-eyed girls and women were working quietly for the soldiers, arranging bandages, picking lint, preparing scrap-books for the hospitals; but this made no stir. The rickshaw coolies pattered along the city streets and groups of strangers clustered about the shop-windows as in the time of peace. Now and then the tap of a drum was heard, and a column of dark-faced little soldiers passed at quickstep, their faces set with stern resolve, the sunrise flag floating before them. For a moment the crowds turned to look, then returned to their money-making or sight-seeing or shopping.

Señor Bellardo became more attentive to the Blacks on the very day when the midshipman and correspondent sailed away in the Zafiro. He attached himself naïvely to their party, even when they went to the War Office to ask for the latest news.

Larkin and Bob Starr, in pursuance of their purpose of showing their friends everything worth seeing in Tokio, had introduced the American girls, as well as Colonel Selborne, to the high government officials, who had welcomed the strangers with utmost courtesy.

About a week after the departure of the young men the Blacks called at the War Office, Bellardo following meekly in their train. As it happened, no one was in the room but the orderlies, who gave the party to understand that their superiors had been called out, but would return soon.

"Oh, we can't wait," said Edith impatiently.

"But it's our last visit, really a call of ceremony, girls," protested their adopted uncle, as he called himself. "It will hardly be courteous to leave without seeing one or both of these gentlemen who have been so polite to us."

"I'll write a line and leave it for them," said Wynnie impulsively. "We've lots to do, Uncle, and we can't waste time, you know, in our last day in Tokio. They may not come back for hours."

She took the chair of one of the officials, looked about for pen and ink, and began writing hurriedly on a blank sheet which lay on the top of a pile of documents. The orderlies gazed in bewilderment at the pretty vision of the girl in a picture hat, occupying the chair of their venerated head of department.

Before Wynnie could finish her note, however, the owner of the chair appeared, with profuse apologies for his delay. Wynnie crumpled up the slip of paper upon which she was writing, and dropped it into the waste-basket as she rose to pay her respects to the war official. The rest of the party advanced and joined in the mutual farewells and regrets. As they stood by the desk, Edith was surprised to see the Spaniard stoop, take Wynnie's half-written note from the basket, and bestow it in an inner pocket. "How sentimental!" she thought, rather contemptuously. She started to speak to her sister about it, on the way home, but something in the street took her attention, and she forgot all about it.

The Blacks had expected to leave next morning for Yokohama, where they were to go on board a steamer for Hawaii and San Francisco. In the disturbed state of affairs on the Chinese coast, Colonel Selborne had concluded not to risk inconvenience or danger, and to give up the rest of the trip. Early in July the whole party would be at home once more. But their plans were interrupted by an unforeseen and astounding incident. It was no less than the detention of all four by the Japanese Government.

They had hardly reached the hotel, on their return from the War Office, when a dapper little gentleman stepped up to the Colonel and said a few words in a low tone.

"What!" exclaimed the American. "Impossible. We start for home to-morrow morning. Edith," he added, turning to his young guests, who were just behind with Señor Bellardo, "this man says we are not to leave the hotel till further notice. Special orders from the War Office!"

"Why, what can be the reason? What has happened?"

The Japanese officer shrugged his shoulders and murmured an apology. "A document of great value has been lost," he said. "It is necessary to detain every one who has visited the office during the afternoon. It is mere form. Honourably do not be annoyed – a thousand regrets for your inconvenience!"

Colonel Selborne understood Japanese methods well enough to know there was a hand of iron under the velvet glove. He submitted with what grace he could muster.

"Search our rooms," he said. "It is absurd to suppose – "

"Ah," interrupted the emissary from the War Office eagerly, "we suppose nothing. It is mere form. To-night, to-morrow, next day, you will surely be at liberty to depart. If you are put to extra expense by remaining longer than you had planned the Government will repay all."

At the Colonel's urgent request the rooms were searched, and of course nothing was found. The little man withdrew, walking backward and apologising over and over; but he did not leave the hotel. He sent a message to the Office and informed the Blacks that nothing further could be done until the next day.

It was ten o'clock in the evening when the recollection of Wynnie's half-written note flashed across Edith's mind. She almost flew to her uncle's door and rapped. The good man had not retired; he was too much annoyed and troubled to sleep.

"Uncle, Uncle, I've something important to tell you. It may be a clue!" And she described Wynnie's act of throwing away the piece of paper and its subsequent recovery by the Spaniard.

"I thought he just wanted a bit of Wyn.'s writing," she said, her lip curling a little. "It may be there was something deeper in it."

"But the paper was perfectly blank; there was nothing on it but two or three lines I had written when General Kafuro came in," said Wynnie, who had joined them.

"Did you look on the other side of the sheet?" demanded Colonel Selborne.

"Not once! And it may have been the very document they miss! Oh, what a foolish, foolish girl I was! I saw the paper lying there on a heap of other sheets, and supposed – oh, the General must have turned it over so that no one would see it when he was called out, expecting to return in a minute! That was it, I know it was – and it's all my fault!" Wynnie hid her face on her uncle's shoulder.

"There, there, dear, it was a natural enough mistake, and you really meant to do a kind and courteous thing in writing our regrets," said the Colonel, patting the brown head.

"Do you know what the missing paper was, sir?" asked Edith.

"It was a sketch of a portion of the fortifications at Sasebo, with specifications below – all in very fine handwriting and pale ink. I must see the officials at once," added Colonel Selborne, looking for his hat.

"Why not hunt up Señor Bellardo first?" suggested Edith eagerly. "Now I think of it, he must have left us just as you were first notified, and he didn't come near us the whole evening."

"I noticed that," said Wynnie, "and was glad of it. I can't bear him, and never could."

"Do you remember how Mr. Larkin looked at him?"

"Yes, and he said – "

"I can't stop, my dears," broke in the Colonel. "I'll enquire for the Spaniard at once and find him if he is in the hotel. Do you know where his lodgings are in Tokio?"

Neither of them knew. Singularly enough, the man had never mentioned his lodging-place. He always dined at the hotel.

Colonel Selborne found the Japanese official on the verandah, and at once took him into his confidence. They made enquiries and looked into every public room in the hotel. Bellardo was not there.

"Leave the matter now with me," said the secret-service man quietly. "My men are near, and I will continue the search. In the morning you shall know the result, and I hope to be able to relieve you from further surveillance."

Early the next morning the report was made by the chagrined but ever-polite officer. The bird had flown. Señor Bellardo's lodgings were known – as were those of every stranger in the city – to the police. They were visited before midnight, and found empty. The police in every seaport were notified by telephone and ordered to arrest a tall, well-dressed man, claiming to be a Spaniard, with dark complexion and black beard and moustache. His clothes were described, as well as a certain shifty look in his eyes. His bearing was that of one who had been trained in a military or naval school.

Colonel Selborne and his party made affidavits before the American consul, telling everything they knew about the matter. As General Kafuro remembered leaving the paper on the very pile from which Wynnie had taken her sheet, there seemed to be no doubt that Edith's story accounted for the theft. Other papers of value had been missed from time to time since the war broke out, and it was believed at the Office that the so-called Spaniard was a dangerous spy in the pay of the Russians.

General Kafuro congratulated Ethelwyn on having forced the man's hand, and, at the request of the consul, declared the American party free to leave Tokio whenever they wished.

Colonel Selborne lost no time in availing himself of the permission and, with his wife and the two young ladies, sailed from Yokohama two days later.

On the evening of the same day, when the City of Pekin was heading eastward with the Americans on board, a small sailboat put out from a village on the west coast of the island. Besides the sailors it had one passenger – a gentleman with smooth face, light complexion, and red hair. The boatmen had agreed, for a large sum, to land him at the nearest point in Korea, unless they should previously fall in with a Russian war-ship. The latter contingency actually came to pass, as the boat was driven northward by a southerly storm, and picked up by one of the Vladivostock squadron, then cruising for prizes.

From Vladivostock, where he was safely landed on the following day, the red-haired gentleman proceeded by rail to Harbin Junction, and then southward to Port Arthur, now nearly cut off by Nogi's troops. Trains, however, were still running regularly between the beleaguered port and Moukden.

Strangely enough, the hair of the mysterious gentleman was now rapidly turning dark. By the time he reached Port Arthur, it was quite black. A stubbly beard and moustache, too, began to show themselves on his sallow face. The man spoke Russian brokenly, and used English when he could. Never a Spanish word came from his lips, and the Barcelona estates proved veritable castles in Spain, fading from his memory.

As the man passed up the street of Port Arthur, under escort of a corporal's guard, he laid his hand triumphantly on his breast. In an inner pocket, beneath it, reposed a sheet of rice paper, on one side of which were scrawled a few lines, in a girlish handwriting. On the other were drawings of moats, counterscarps, and a medley of fortifications, followed by vertical lines of delicate Japanese characters.

"Take me at once to General Stoessel's headquarters," said the sallow-faced man. "I have important information for him. Here is my pass from the War Office at St. Petersburg."