Kitabı oku: «In the Yellow Sea», sayfa 5

CHAPTER VII
THE FÊNG SHUI CHANGES HER NAME FOR LUCK
– THE TRANSPORT – THE JAPANESE
MAN-OF-WAR – SURRENDER OF THE KOWSHING

We were compelled by circumstances to remain a few days at Shanghai, and almost every hour begat new rumours. Sunday itself was no day of rest for the Spirit of Conjecture; she was busier than ever, and whether on the Bund or on the concession road, where everybody met all the world and his wife and family, the speculations were numerous and important. Only the ugly Amas (Chinese "ayahs"), and their usually pale European charges, were exempted from the general discussions. The Chinese, too, were quite quiet, but also perfectly alive to the situation. Those of the settlers who played lawn tennis or other games, or cycled, – as most of the "foreign" men did, – paused to discuss late events on the grounds, or on the Marine Parade. The Chinese drove, or perhaps walked, but did not "go in for games" as the "foreign devils" do; it is better, they think, to pay people to do all this to amuse them.

The steamer quitted Shanghai, and made her way into the Yellow Sea, which is beautifully blue, and derives its name from the Ho, or Yellow River. Near the land it is more muddy, but steaming at sea through the ocean depths the water is blue as an Italian sky. We made our way up to Taku, or Tien Tsin, the well-known port of Northern China. We passed close by Yung Cheng, and rounded Wei-hai-Wei, passed the islands, and steamed through the Gulf of Pechili to Taku at the mouth of the Pei-Ho.

I was very much interested in this place because a cousin of mine had been engaged in the expedition against the Taku forts in 1859, and I recollect my admiration when my cousin returned with some beautiful Chinese robes, and other articles, which he had purchased, or found, in Pekin after the capture of the capital. These spoils still exist in the possession of my cousin's family.

While embarking Chinese soldiers for Corea, we heard many reports of the Chinese fleet, the attack of Japanese in Seul, and such intelligence, which confirmed my captain in his impression that war had already virtually been declared, and that the struggle would be fought out by sea and land, between China and Japan, in the Yellow Sea and in Corea. So he made haste to embark the soldiers, – some twelve hundred men with twelve guns, – and, when they were settled on board, the steamer followed the other transports, of which nine had already sailed. There were two other English steamers employed in the service, but we didn't think that any fuss would ensue, because we trusted to the "red ensign."

"Well, Julius," said the mate to me, when we had crossed the bar at Taku, "here we are on service."

"Yes," I replied; "but it is only transport service. There will be no fighting. We can't fight, and no one will harm a British ship."

"Let us wait till we reach Corea. When we reach Asan, and land the troops, we shall be able to sing 'Rule Britannia.'"

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking at the mate intently in the dim light. "There is no danger, is there?"

"I suppose you know that the Japanese warships are out in this sea, and they expect to meet some Chinese vessels?"

"But we're not Chinese; we're English."

"Just so," said the mate. "Hadn't you better look after the troops, and get them settled. If any storm gets up, or anything happens, they will be like children, and we can't hold them."

"Who's the major? He's not a Chinese, anyway!"

"No, he's a German, I believe – a Von something – a good fellow, I think. You see the Herrs are getting the thin wedge in in China, quietly. Look at their travellers already – commercial, I mean – they are turning us out! This major is teaching the army to shoot. They are very young in the modern sense. Just see that the Johnnies are quiet."

They were peaceful and resigned. So far as I could ascertain, none of them, except the generals, had any notion of what they were sent to do – except to fight somebody; but they were apparently quite passive in the matter, and gave themselves no concern either way. They were machines then; but later they roused themselves unpleasantly.

It was early in the morning of the 25th July 1894; I had been on deck, but came up again about eight a.m. because I was informed that the islands were in sight off Corea. I knew the mate was on watch, and he might want me. So I came up to him.

"I say, Julius," he said, "just call the captain! There's an ironclad ahead, and I can't quite make her out. She carries the Rising Sun, but there is a white flag over the Japs' colours. Look alive!"

Just glancing ahead I thought I could see the vessel referred to, but of course I called the captain at once.

"Where are we?" he asked, rising quickly.

"Oft Shopieul Island, I heard, sir; in the Corean Archipelago," I added.

"Thanks," he replied; but whether he was sarcastic I could not divine. I at once hurried on deck again, and searched the sea.

The captain then came upon the bridge, and I heard him chatting with the mate.

"I suppose she's a Jap," said the latter; "but I can't grasp the white flag."

"Dip the ensign, anyway; it's the proper thing. Hoist the red rag," he said.

The signal-hand quickly bent the ensign of the merchant navy; it rose, fluttered out, dipped, and rose again to the peak, blowing out plainly.

"I say, he takes no notice," cried the captain. "She keeps her course to the north-east. Now what in thunder does that mean? It's an insult, bedad!"

"She's steaming at a fine rate, sir. Looks as if she was in a hurry."

"Running away, bedad!" laughed the skipper, turning his glass upon the large ship. "Ah! a man-of-war and a Chinaman, – a trick, I believe."

"Really so?" exclaimed the mate. "If so, there's been a 'tit up' yonder, and Jap has licked Johnny, but I heard no guns. Excuse me, sir, what's that yonder? – a schooner, I say."

I heard him, and got a glass from the signalman near whom I was standing. But the schooner was not the Harada, so far as I could see. She had no foretop-sail-yard. She was steering south-east, a long distance away, and looked an old style of vessel getting away.

By this time the news had spread through the steamer, and penetrated to the Chinese intelligence forward. The soldiers came up in numbers, and the officers, accompanied by the European passenger, began to chatter and make all kinds of inquiries and observations. The Japanese flag had evidently raised the "dander" of the Chinese. They understood that the man-of-war was a Chinaman, but could not understand the white feather of retreat or escape.

By degrees the excitement increased, and the crew of the steamer became very much interested. The native fireman even came up to look around, and though unable to see anything, descended again, much impressed with the result.

Notwithstanding our native English assurance, one or two of us – I need not make invidious comparisons – began to suspect danger. The captain, mate, and the German military passenger were perfectly calm and unembarrassed, and the Kowshing proceeded at a good pace to her destination. The chief men were on the bridge. I was within hail, and at times stood upon the ladder to see better, and to hear better, what the prospects might be of seeing war.

We still kept our course, and had approached within a mile or so of the island from the north-west, when three men-of-war came out from the land in our direction.

"What do you make them?" asked the captain.

"Japs," was the reply. "We are getting into a hornet's nest, I think."

"The British ensign will surely protect the steamer?" asked the foreign passenger. "There is no necessity to alter the course."

"Precious little use, anyhow," remarked the mate. "We must keep going, though I fancy the ships will not appreciate the Chinese troops on board. We may be compelled to return."

When the Chinese commanders perceived the Japanese vessels approaching they became rather excited – the soldiers also crowded forward, and there was no appearance of fear amongst them. There was some anxiety, certainly, on board, and when the leading ship passed on and fired two blank cartridges, there was a feeling of uneasiness evident.

"Stop her," came the order when the two guns and the signal had been interpreted. My heart beat loudly at the sound of the unshotted guns. They meant heave to – anchor.

The steamer hove to and waited, tossing gently upon the sea.

"What are they up to?" was the question expressed or implied. "Tell them we understand, Julius." "Ting, ting" went the telegraph to the engine.

The man at the signal halyards and myself sent the bunting aloft. The flags said, "We have stopped"; and again we waited, lopping and rolling, as the anchor plashed away into the blue sea at eleven fathoms.

"I say, are we prisoners?" I asked the mate when he came back amidships, having seen the anchor let go.

"Looks like it," he replied crossly. "Must wait the Japs' convenience, I see."

The Chinese generals then began to plague the captain with demands which the German officer translated and repeated. There was great confusion.

"That ship's the Naniwa," I heard someone say.

"She's returning. All right, we may proceed, I presume."

"She is only going to confer with her mates," said the engineer, who had come up. "But the captain is asking something."

I made out the signal as directed, and it spelt "May we proceed?" The engineers anxiously awaited the reply, and the crew expected the order to weigh.

But to my dismay, and certainly to the disappointment of all on board our steamer, the reply came from the Japanese, sharply —

"Heave to, or take the consequences."

We looked at each other, the Chinese commanders were furious. The men made ready their rifles, and got up ammunition. Things began to look black all round.

The Chinese commanders demanded to know what had been said, and when they had been informed a discussion arose. So greatly were they exercised that the foreign officer suggested that the soldiers might be sent below, because he feared a disturbance if any Japanese came on board; and also, I think, he fancied we all were in danger if the troops became mutinous.

This advice, backed up by the officers of the steamer, was acted upon, and when I had assisted in carrying out the order with the quarter-master, Louis, we came on deck again, and we saw the same ship again approaching us on the port side – on the beam; she took up a position so that she could enfilade us with her starboard battery, and we could see that she had prepared to fire her broadside.

I really could not believe we were in danger. It seemed so absurd to think that our Japanese friends could threaten a British ship sailing under the ensign, and employed in transport duties. I said as much to the mate. He shook his head.

"You see, we are in the enemy's pay, and the Japs must have the first blow if they mean war. Still, I suppose they will take us off the steamer, and make the Johnnies prisoners. Here comes a boat. We shall soon find out all about this business."

"The Japanese are armed," I said.

"Certainly they are. They are on the warpath. I hope we shan't lose our scalps!"

I laughed at the idea, and the mate walked forward to keep watch and order ahead, without echoing my misplaced merriment. He seemed to take things seriously. How absurd!

"Gangway!" came the order, and the captain went down to receive the two Japanese officers who intended to come on board. They were received with politeness, the lieutenant and his sub demanded to see the steamer's papers. For this purpose they went into the chart-room.

Meantime I was staring at the boat and the Japanese sailors, neat and tidy fellows, and at the youthful officer keeping guard. My heart leaped. I recognised him as the youth whom I had assisted that evening in Shanghai when the feeling against the Japanese ran high. He recognised me at the same moment, and smiled. I advanced and saluted him; he replied in kind, and we exchanged greetings. It was Tomi!

"May I inquire what your captain intends to do with us?" I asked after a while.

"I cannot say," he replied. "My officer and your captain will doubtless arrange matters."

"We are not at war," I persisted; "we cannot be harmed." I glanced at the English ensign as I was speaking.

His eyes followed mine, and he touched his cap politely, then looked at me. "Will you come on board?" he asked. "I will assist you now, if you like."

"Why? What for?" After a pause, I replied, "No, thank you. I am on duty, of course." But I thought it kind of the middy. He knew the danger.

"Stand back, please; here is my officer," he said quickly. "Be silent."

He at once became distant as the land, and shut up like an oyster. He perhaps was afraid to be seen speaking to me.

The captain and the Japanese lieutenant then appeared. The latter said —

"I will convey your message, sir, I understand that this vessel is under the charter of the Chinese Government to convey troops from Taku to Asan. Is that correct?"

"Perfectly," replied the captain.

The lieutenant continued, "There are eleven hundred soldiers on board, with arms and ammunition and supplies. Are you prepared to follow the Naniwa, sir?"

"I am willing to do so," replied the captain. "Will you favour me with your esteemed name?"

"Lieutenant Hitomi," was the reply. "Yours, sir, is Goldheugh?"

The captain bowed; the lieutenant bowed in response, and was then most politely escorted to the gangway, whence he was rowed to the Naniwa, as he had named her. She was painted white, and had one funnel.

She was, and is, a fine ship, and I scrutinised her size and guns and equipage of modern appearance. She was armed with two 26 c.m. twenty-eight-ton Armstrong guns; six 15 c.m. five-ton Krupps; besides machine guns – a heavy armament for a ship of something under four thousand tons, I estimated. She carried three hundred and fifty-seven men, and could steam eighteen knots. These details I learned later; at the moment of the lieutenant's departure I was fascinated by her guns. It seemed so unreal to me. War was so unexpected by us, though I gathered that it had been brewing for months. Still it is always disturbing and alarming, even if one is not face to face with it, as I was.

When the Japanese officer had returned to the ship, the Chinese generals came up with the German officer to make inquiries. The major was not present when the explanation had been made, but he understood that our captain had mentioned him as a "passenger."

"I did so, sir; I told the lieutenant. Did you not hear what I said?"

"No," replied the passenger. "If you had called me, as we agreed " —

"Bless my soul, what time had I to call anyone?" exclaimed the captain. "The man didn't wait for any explanations. He asked me questions, and when I had replied he was off like a shot; and maybe he'll treat us to one presently, though I suppose it isn't his fault. What are the generals going to do?"

"They declare they will resist. You should have stipulated to return to Taku, they say; and they will rather die than be taken prisoners."

"Bedad, they may have to do it!" muttered the captain. "Julius, hoist the signal for a boat. The Chinese fellows are breaking loose, and we'll be murdered in a minute. We're between the devils and the deep sea now, and may go anywhere. Call assistance!"

The German gentleman in vain attempted to influence the Chinese. He could speak their language, but they did not listen. The officers declared they would fight. They had eleven hundred against the three hundred and fifty Japanese, and they could prevail! In vain the major declared that the ship's guns must destroy the steamer if she fired at us. The generals were obdurate. They directed their men to guard the bridge and gangway, to kill any European who resisted, and to load all rifles.

"We have your protection," they said to the captain. "If you withdraw it on the part of England, we shall shoot you. You have made a contract with us, you must complete it. Take us to Asan, or back to Taku, and forfeit the charter."

This was translated to the captain, and he swore. He signalled for the Japanese to send a boat, and the reply came – "Send at once." We then waited in the greatest excitement, fearing for all on board who were not Chinese, because the soldiers threatened, and made the most horrible signs to us all the while suggesting death and torture.

It is almost incredible, but it is true – no romance is here.

CHAPTER VIII
THE END OF THE FÊNG SHUI – CAPTURED AND PRESSED

The tremendous excitement of the Chinese was due, as I then understood, to a signal from the Naniwa, which we found out meant "Weigh; cut or slip." This was rightly interpreted as a command to follow the warship and surrender, and the Chinese absolutely declined. I wished we had run away and beached the steamer.

We were on the bridge then. I mean the officers; and the captain attempted to persuade the Chinese officers to be quiet. But the trouble increased every minute. Soldiers loaded their rifles, and took up their positions as sentries at the ladders, so that at the first symptoms of surrender the British would be shot; and when the Asiatic begins to kill he becomes a fiend.

Under these circumstances the captain made an appeal to the Japanese. Goldheugh and the mate conferred with the German officer, who was a "drill instructor" of the Chinese troops, and the cry went up —

"Send a boat. Must confer personally."

When this signal was perceived, and explained, the generals threatened to shoot us all; the soldiers at once thronged the deck, and advanced to the gangway, so that if the Japanese came on board again they ran a great risk of being killed. The signal was replied to by "Send immediately," and we waited amid a fearful uproar, and desperate resolves upon the part of the Chinese to cut our heads off.

We were silent and expectant. The explanation was agreed on by all the Europeans, and it was with great difficulty that the Chinese leaders were at length induced to order the men from the gangway. The Japanese did not come alongside at once. They perceived the difficulty and the risk for us.

When the lieutenant did come up he was informed of the state of the case. Captain Goldheugh and the German officer fully explained the cause of the delay.

"We can do nothing," said the former. "You desire us to weigh anchor; the Chinese will kill us all if we attempt to obey. Cannot your captain permit us to return? We had not heard of any declaration of war before we sailed. We have not in any way broken the laws of nations."

"The Europeans must quit the ship," said the Japanese. "That is my suggestion."

"We cannot. You perceive the difficulty. What shall we do? You may let us return to Taku. This is the Chinese demand."

The Jap shook his head doubtfully.

"I will inform my superior," he replied. "You must be ready to act when the answer comes, whatever it may be."

He then returned to the boat, and the crew gave way rapidly. All these arrangements had occupied quite three hours and a half, and it was then nearly "one bell," – half-past twelve, – for I remember the bell being struck at the time the Japanese boat was proceeding to the cruiser, which lay about half a mile away.

"Julius," said the captain, "tell the engineers and firemen to come on deck; and hark ye, my lad, put on a life-belt."

"A life-belt! What for?" I exclaimed.

"Do as ye're bid," he said, descending from the bridge, and entering the chart-room, and later, his cabin. Meantime I gave the order, and the engineers and firemen came up, some went forward to wash.

We had not much time to spare. The Chinese sentries had left the bridge before this, and the "calm that precedes a storm" had settled upon us. The pause was broken by the expected reply from the cruiser —

"Leave the steamer at once."

The captain shrugged his shoulders, and called to me —

"Have you told the engineers? Signal, 'I am not allowed,' and ask for a boat for us. Be ready all; there's mischief now."

When the captain had made this reply, he spoke to the mate, who quitted the bridge, and made some preparations to depart. The next thing I remarked was a red flag at the foremast of the cruiser, and a signal abaft – "Can't send boat."

"Then we're done," said the chief engineer. "What's that red flag?"

"Looks like 'Fire,' but it can't be that," replied his mate, who had retreated aft with the mate of the steamer.

"She's taking up position," said the mate. "See! What's that? By thunder, it's a torpedo! That's another. Hurry, lads. Fly! Jump! They intend to sink us with the Chinese fools!"

I stood irresolute, not from fear, because I could not realise the extreme danger of the situation. "A torpedo," the engineer had said. I had never seen one before; and was it possible that this black thing which was rushing like a small porpoise at us was intended as a destructive weapon against a friendly vessel? What would happen if it struck the steamer?

Before it touched us, however, a fearful thunder of guns rang out at one moment, and a curious sound of grinding or rattling.

"A broadside!" shouted the chief mate, rushing forward. "Leap, Julius; jump overboard!"

He rushed at a belt, and disappeared as the steamer heeled over under the fearful impact of the shot or shell, and I also dropped in the blue sea behind him. The effect of the broadside was to depress the steamer upon the starboard side.

The crash was fearful! Even as I fell into the water I felt the concussion, and the roar of the discharge was terrific. Since then I have heard "guns going off," and have been startled by them, but this hurricane of shot was fearful. When I again rose, supported by my belt, the air was enveloped in steam, and thick with dust, while the sea was sprinkled with coal ashes.

The "quick-firing" guns were peppering the survivors on the doomed ship, flashing from the Naniwa like crackers. The Chinese kept firing in reply at anyone in the water, and at the ship's boats, which had been lowered, but not with the intention to save life at first. The Japs fired without mercy at the wrecked and sinking steamer and the Chinese troops.

Mechanically I swam in the direction of the island. I had no time to fear the bullets, but perhaps I owe my life to the small ladder which supported me, and beneath which I managed to float, and propel myself at intervals, while the firing continued. The Chinese replied aimlessly from the steamer, killing their own people on the principle of the scorpion which attacks itself when in imminent danger of death. Numbers of Chinese were swimming, and were slain in the water; a few were saved, with three or four Europeans, by the Japanese and by a French vessel which came upon the scene, but the vast majority perished.

I learned these details afterwards; at the time the noise and shouting, the crackling of the machine-guns and the rifle fire, were most bewildering, and how I managed to keep afloat and unharmed is to me, even now, astonishing. Had I not been perfectly at home in the water I think I must have drowned from sheer nervousness; the exertion itself would have exhausted me before the boat came and rescued me. As it proved, I kept my head and my life-belt.

Then I saw the unlucky Fêng Shui rise up a little, roll a bit, and plunge down by the stern suddenly, carrying hundreds of living, wounded, and dead Chinese into the vortex of the Yellow Sea. The Naniwa had struck a decisive blow in the war. Then my mind sprung back to the evening on which I had been rescued by Captain Goldheugh from the sinking yacht, in which I had dreamed of a sinking steamer attacked by a man-of-war, amid steam and the roar of artillery. Was this prophetic?

A murmur of strange voices aroused me for I swam mechanically, as I ascertained later, in the direction of the Japanese cruiser. I raised my head, and perceived a large boat closing upon me gently. A word of command; I was seized and dragged on board the launch amid the Japanese crew, and to my delight I perceived Mr. Rose, the mate of the steamer. There were some other boats afloat with Japanese and Chinese occupants, but the former fired upon the latter at every opportunity.

We were carried to the Naniwa and, I am glad to say, well treated by our captors, who supplied our wants, and those of the others rescued. We received no apologies, however, though food and dry clothing were supplied. The captain also was rescued by another boat, but we did not "chum" with him; and we found that a sentry had been placed at the doors of the cabins respectively, to avoid and prevent any comparisons of our treatment.

During the evening we were asked separately many questions, and desired to make a statement to the captain of the cruiser. At eight bells we anchored for the night, and I slept thankfully till the morning.

*****

Very early in the morning of the next day I was awakened by the noise of a brief and sharp conversation outside the cabin wherein I was lying. There was a sound of firearms, a clash of a sword, and in the dawning light I perceived a young officer advancing from the door.

Impulsively I arose, bracing myself for an encounter, but the ambassador was on peace intent. He was my young friend the midshipman to whom I had been of some assistance at Shanghai. He began directly, without any preface.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Julius? I have been thinking about you, and have ventured to see you. What are your plans?"

"I have no plans. My captain and mate are prisoners, and I am in custody," I replied. "Why ask a prisoner what his plans are?"

He put up his hand deprecatingly, and shook his head.

"You are not a captive," he replied; "at least only until we can restore you and your officers to the British ships. Your captain will return to Nagasaki, I believe, and thence to Hong Kong, perhaps. But if you have liberty to remain, why not stay with this ship?"

"Enlist in the Japanese navy?" I exclaimed.

"Not enlist; join us. My uncle is commander here now, and he is already pleased with you, and grateful for your assistance to me. He himself has suggested your joining the ship. You were intended for the English navy, you said; and you may do us the honour of accepting the offer."

I made no immediate reply. The suggestion was pleasant to my ears. Perhaps I might volunteer if Captain Goldheugh had no objection.

"Well?" asked the young Japanese. "I must request a reply, as my watch will be called at eight bells."

"Yes; I will volunteer if my captain will permit me. But must I actually join your service?"

"I presume not. The idea is merely one to enable you to see some service, and I am certain you will be a credit to the Naniwa."

He bowed and smiled. I jumped up and responded.

"You are too kind, Tomi," I said. "Please tell your most honourable uncle that I will, if permitted, be most happy to join his ship, though he nearly drowned us in the Fêng Shui."

"That would have been a misfortune," said Tomi.

"The steamer was always unlucky," I replied. "Her very name is a reproach, and the captain changed it to Kowshing."

"Which was even a greater ill-luck. But I am on duty. We weigh at four o'clock this morning. I will tell the commander of you."

He retired quickly. The time was passing, and the hands were about to weigh anchor. Before I had finished dressing in the sailor's clothes, with which home-made (Japanese) attire we had all been supplied, a message came for me, and I was released politely from the surveillance to that time observed. At this point I may say that all the officers and men, and later the Japanese ashore, treated us all most kindly. But all the same I think that in war they would be most formidable antagonists, because they "go" for their aim at once, risking all for country; even killing themselves if they do not succeed as they intend to do, and they spare neither themselves nor their opponents, not even to the farther verge of cruelty, if aroused.

But I did not know so much of the Japanese character then, and I admire it still. In all my dealings with them – and I have met many influential Japanese and others – I have found them polite and courteous, with a fine tendency to business, and to "take the turn of the market" for themselves.

Soon after eight bells the warship weighed anchor, and I was permitted to go on deck amidships, or forward of the bridge, and while I was gazing alongside my midshipman friend accosted me.

"Your captain is aft," he said. "Perhaps you would like to see him."

"Is he a prisoner?" I asked, as I gazed at a Chinese gunboat close by, which had been captured when conveying despatches. "What's that vessel?"

"She's a Chinese boat, Tsaokiang," replied my friend Tomi. "We have caught her, and shall send her captain and crew with your officers in the transport. You can visit your captain if you wish."

This was my desire, and accordingly I proceeded astern, under escort and by permission, to the cabin in which Captain Goldheugh was interned. He welcomed me gladly from his cot.

"Ah! my son, so ye've got free of the Japs, have ye? Sure I'm still in limbo, though I must say the fellows are civil enough. We're steaming to the rendezvous, I'm told."

"Yes, sir. I came to ask your permission to stay on board here."

I rushed at my fence, you see, and yet in trepidation when I realised the obstacles.

"What!" exclaimed the captain. "Remain on board the Jap's cruiser with the fellows who smashed us into smithereens, and made a 'holy show' of the Fêng Shui? Bedad, a March hare isn't in the same run with ye. He's mad this time, anyway," concluded the captain. "Stark and staring! Are those straws in your hair?"

"No," I replied, smiling, yet nervously. "The fact is the captain of this ship has offered me a berth, and" —

"By the powers o' Moll Kelly this beats the world!" cried the captain, relapsing into native idiom. "The Jap captain offers ye a berth. Ah, go out o' that! He wants ye to take the cruiser into action, so he does! That's what he means. Well, well," he sighed resignedly, "look at that!"

He nodded his head up and down three times, as if perfectly, but unwillingly, resigned. I felt smaller by degrees.