SU FING'S PRISONER
Four days after Burroughs dispatched his letter to Errington, when the
lapse of time showed pretty plainly that it was not likely to get an
answer, he received a visit from Mr. Ting. The merchant, though he had
refused Errington's request for help, had not done so out of
hard-heartedness or stinginess, but from a wish that the boy should
learn a severe lesson, that would leave an enduring stamp. But when he
had gone a few days' journey down the river his heart smote him. He was
young enough himself to understand the racking anxiety which his old
friend's son was suffering; and his knowledge of the desperate
expedients to which harassed young fellows sometimes resorted, made him
decide to return to Chia-ling Fu, so that he might be at hand to rescue
Errington from the worst consequences of his folly.
He had called at Sui-Fu on his way up a few days before, intending to
find out from Burroughs more precise details of Errington's
circumstances; for as yet he had not heard of the split between the two
friends. But Burroughs chanced to be absent up country, and they did
not meet. On this second occasion, however, Burroughs was in his office
when the Chinaman called.
"How d'you do, Mr. Ting?" he said; "sorry I wasn't in the other day.
All well at Shanghai?"
"Yes, when I left. That is now some days ago. You are doing well, your
father says."
"Rubbing along, you know. These disturbances up the river aren't good
for business."
"That is tlue. And your flend Pidge--I have his school name, you
see--will know that even better than you. I saw him a few days ago."
Burroughs did not reply, and Mr. Ting's observant eyes detected an air
of constraint in his manner.
"You do not see him so often now, of course," the Chinaman went on.
"That is a pity, when you are such good flends. It is a pity, too, that
he is so fa' away. He did not look well: do you know what tloubles him?"
"He hasn't said anything to me," said Burroughs, looking still more
uncomfortable.
"He has not sent you a letter lately?"
"No," said Burroughs, adding hastily: "but I wrote to him a few days
ago."
"And you have heard of no tlouble he is in?" Mr. Ting persisted.
Burroughs hesitated: it was his way to think before he spoke. He had
heard only gossip about the card-playing that went on at Chia-ling Fu,
and it seemed hardly fair to Errington to discuss his personal matters
merely on hearsay. Mr. Ting, of course, was his friend; all the more
reason, thought Burroughs, for not telling what Errington himself had
evidently not told. But Mr. Ting seemed to divine what was passing in
the boy's mind.
"I think you had better tell me all about it," he said quietly. "I have
a good leason for asking: we are both his flends. Tlouble neglected
becomes still more tloublesome, as we say. Tell me, then."
"The truth is," said Burroughs, won over by the Chinaman's evident
sincerity, "Pidge and I have had a row. A ridiculous cause. He thought
I doubted his honour; I lost my wool----"
"Your wool! I do not understand: is it not cotton?"
"My temper, I mean," said Burroughs, with a smile. "A silly thing to
do, because you always say more than you mean."
"Ah yes! Anger is a little fire: if it is not checked, it burns down a
lofty pile. Well?"
"We parted on bad terms, and haven't spoken since. He said he wouldn't
have anything to do with me till I apologized."
"And the apology? You sent it in your letter?"
"No, I'm sorry to say I didn't. Idiotic pride on my part, for of course
I never really doubted him; only after you've had a row it's jolly hard
to say so--to a fellow like me, at any rate."
"Then you come with me, and you shall be flends again. The yielding
tongue endures: the stubborn teeth pelish. Now you have had confidence
in me, I will be open too. Pidge has been gambling."
"I know," said Burroughs gloomily.
"And he owes a thousand dollars or mo'e. We must save him flom the men
who have led him away, and turn him flom gambling. I asked him to
plomise not to gamble again: he would not; plaps for you he will."
"I don't know," said Burroughs. "He is so touchy, you know; can't bear
to be advised. We shall have to go very carefully to work. But there's
a hope in what has happened lately. He can't really bear me a serious
grudge, because he took the trouble to recover my flying boat and send
it back to me."
"Hai! How was that?"
Burroughs told of the theft of the vessel, and of what had happened
since. Mr. Ting listened attentively, and then related a curious story.
On his way up the river he had met the captain of a junk whom he
occasionally employed, and in conversation with him learnt of a strange
experience that had befallen him not far above Sui-Fu. He had been
sailing down in his junk, and called at a riverside village to take on
some goods. Having stowed his cargo, and wishing that the junk should
reach Sui-Fu before night, for fear of the river pirates, he sent her on
under charge of his mate, while he remained to negotiate a certain
business transaction with an up-country merchant whose arrival at the
village had been delayed.
On the completion of his business, just before sunset, he started in a
sampan manned by two men, expecting to overtake the junk before she
anchored for the night. Much to his alarm, when only three or four miles
above the port, he discovered that a boat was dogging him. He did not
know whether the crew were pirates or police: it was now too dark to
distinguish; but as a matter of precaution he ordered his men to pull
into the bank, and wait until the boat passed.
When he got within the shadow of some trees overhanging the stream, he
was more alarmed than ever: the pursuers were also making for the bank.
He was quaking in his shoes; but the boat, instead of coming directly
towards him, passed by at a distance of some thirty yards, and
disappeared.
He waited until it had had time to get out of earshot, and resumed his
journey. But he had hardly gone a quarter-mile down stream, when he
heard a low hail, and then the sound of several voices. Steering again
into the bank, he looked down the river, upon which a crescent moon was
throwing a pale light. And then he saw the boat re-appear, towing what
looked like a launch into mid-stream. At the same moment he heard the
throbbing of a motor vessel, and from round a bend in the river there
came a large launch, which hove to as it reached the boat.
In a few minutes the motor launch was again under way, and as it passed
rapidly up stream, the captain of the junk, being well acquainted with
all the motor vessels on the river, recognized it at once as that
belonging to Reinhardt. But it was not alone. It had in tow the
smaller craft which had been drawn out from the bank. This smaller
vessel would perhaps not have attracted the captain's attention had it
not been somewhat curious in shape, owing, as he supposed, to a full
cargo which was concealed under matting.
"There's not much doubt it was my boat," said Burroughs, when Mr. Ting
had ended his story. His face had gone pale, and there was a twitching
of his nostrils; but his tone of voice was perhaps even more equable
than usual. Mr. Ting noted how he differed from Errington in that
respect.
"It looks as if Mr. Reinhardt wanted to pick a quarrel," he added.
"Velly culious," said Mr. Ting, reflectively. "What you call a plactical
joke, plaps."
"A kind of joke I don't appreciate," said Burroughs shortly. "I think
Pidge must have understood that. He's thick with Reinhardt, who
probably told him of the trick, and learnt that he had gone a trifle too
far. Are you going up to Chia-ling Fu to-day, sir?"
"If you will come with me. A word of advice, if I may. Say nothing to
Leinhadt about the matter until you know. One egg is better than ten
cackles."
Burroughs discussed a few business matters with his comprador; his boy
Chin Tai meanwhile packed his bag; and in an hour he was ready to
accompany the merchant to his launch. They had crossed the gang-way,
and were waiting for the skipper to cast off, when they saw an old steam
launch coming swiftly down from the direction of Chia-ling Fu.
"Do you mind holding on a few minutes?" said Burroughs. "She may have a
letter from Pidge on board."
"Velly well," said Mr. Ting, putting on his spectacles. "Lot of
passengers, you see: velly culious."
The deck of the launch did, indeed, present an unusual appearance.
Instead of the one or two white passengers who might have been expected
at this hour--for the vessel must have left Chia-ling Fu very early in
the morning--there was a considerable crowd of men, women and children.
Every inch of standing room appeared to be occupied. And as the launch
drew nearer, it was plain that the passengers were of all
nationalities--German, English and Japanese traders with their families,
English and French missionaries conspicuous among the rest by their
Chinese garments.
"Looks like a general exodus," said Burroughs, his eyes narrowing.
"Something is wrong."
"Yes," said Mr. Ting: "velly much long."
He recrossed the gangway to the quay. Burroughs, shading his eyes
against the sunlight, remained on the boat, searching the crowd for the
familiar tall form of Errington.
The launch drew in, and the merchants on board, recognizing Mr. Ting,
began to shout to him; but all speaking together in their respective
languages, it was impossible to make out what any of them said. As soon
as they had landed, however, Burroughs, who had now returned to the
quay, was singled out by his agent, and told of the exciting events
which had happened at Chia-ling Fu.
For several days the European community had been in a state of nervous
tension owing to reports of the successes of the rebels further north.
Despite all the efforts of the ill-armed, ill-disciplined rabble that so
frequently masquerades as an army in the interior of China, the
insurgents had made great headway. They had captured Cheng Tu, and an
attempt to retake the place had been defeated, with considerable loss to
the so-called regular troops. The success of the rebels had brought, as
is always the case, large accessions to their numbers. All the restless
and turbulent elements of the province for two hundred miles round had
flocked to the captured city. There were no Europeans there except a
few French missionaries who were reported to be held prisoners, but to
have suffered no ill-usage.
This news put every one at Chia-ling Fu on the alert. Arrangements were
made to move down river at short notice. The Europeans recognized that,
whatever might be the treatment of the missionary prisoners, the lives
of any white men captured by the insurgents must always be in jeopardy.
Even where their leaders desired, from policy, to protect their
prisoners, the blood-thirstiness and anti-foreign prejudices of their
ignorant following were always likely to force their hand.
It had been expected at Chia-ling Fu, however, that news of any
southward movement of the rebels would be reported by native spies in
time to enable the Europeans to make their escape. But just before dawn
on this morning, they had been wakened by the sound of shots and a great
hubbub. They sprang up, pulled on their clothes hurriedly, seized their
arms, and sallied out to see what was afoot. They found the city
already in the hands of the insurgents. Making a wide circuit by night,
an immense force had crept upon the place from the landward side, and at
the same time a large fleet of vessels of all descriptions, including
two or three steamers captured at Cheng Tu, had come down the river and
anchored at some little distance above the city. The sleepy sentinels
at all the gates had been surprised and overpowered, the rabble poured
in, and the place fell without striking a blow.
All these details were not known until afterwards: the confusion at dawn
had been so great that the Europeans knew nothing except the bare fact
that the city was captured, and that they were prisoners. To their great
surprise, in a few hours they were all released, told to collect their
belongings, and conveyed to the steamer which had just brought them down
the river. Clearly the leaders of the insurgents intended to show that
the rising was a purely domestic one; they did not wish to provoke
action by the foreign Powers.
All the time that Burroughs was listening to the story told him by his
agent, he kept his eyes on the gangway, hoping to see Errington step
off. He recognized several acquaintances among the passengers, but his
old friend did not appear.
"Where's Mr. Errington?" he asked his agent.
"Upon my word, Mr. Burroughs, I don't know. I never thought of him. I
suppose----"
"Mr. Stevens, was Errington on the boat?" asked Burroughs, stepping
towards the gangway and taking the merchant by the sleeve.
"Errington! Of course he was. That is, I suppose so. We are all here;
but such a crowd of us that we were very much mixed up. Hamilton, did
you see Errington?"
"Surely: but no, now I come to think of it, I didn't. Isn't he here?"
Answers of the same kind came from all the passengers who were
interrogated. In the confusion and excitement, in their preoccupation
with themselves and their families, they hardly knew who had been among
them, and who not. It was very soon certain, however, that Errington
was not among those who left the vessel.
"What can have happened to him?" Burroughs said to Mr. Ting anxiously.
"He's such a hot-headed chap that it would be just like him to show
fight."
Mr. Ting looked more troubled than Burroughs had ever before seen him.
"I hope he is safe," he said. "Plaps he escaped in a sampan, and will
come by and by. We must wait and see."
But though several vessels came down in the course of the day, bringing
native merchants who had fled from the city, Errington was not in any of
them, nor did his boy appear. Mr. Ting's journey up-stream was
necessarily abandoned. With the rebels in possession of the river no
one would be safe. It was with very anxious hearts that Burroughs and
the Chinaman awaited the dawn of another day.