when Bob left the monster battle-ship, which scarcely felt the motion of
the waves, for the tiny _Kasumi_, rolling and pitching beneath. A boat
was lowered from the _Hatsuse_, and but for his experience in yachting
on the lower reaches of the Clyde Bob might have had some qualms as to
how he was to mount the rope-ladder let down over the side of the
_Kasumi_. Though he failed to make the ascent with the nimbleness of a
deep-sea pilot, he was on his mettle, and did not disgrace himself in
the eyes of the crews of the _Hatsuse_ and _Kasumi_, critically watching
him from their respective vessels.
On reaching the deck of the destroyer he was as much surprised as
pleased to meet Yamaguchi. He knew that the sub-lieutenant on his
recovery had been promoted and appointed to a torpedo vessel, but until
this moment he had been unaware to which. Their meeting was very
cordial; Yamaguchi looked on Bob as his preserver, and Bob on his part
was delighted to find that he was to make the passage to Chemulpo in
company with one whom he already regarded as a friend.
Besides Yamaguchi, the officers on board were two sub-lieutenants, a
doctor, and an engineer.
"We are fifty-five all told," added Yamaguchi, after introducing their
new mess-mate.
"Where do you stow them all?" asked Bob in surprise.
"Come and see."
The lieutenant showed him first his own cabin, in the after part of the
vessel--a room about ten feet square by seven high, with about as much
accommodation as a small bathing-machine. Next to it was the ward-room,
a trifle larger in area, in which Yamaguchi proposed that Bob should
make his sleeping quarters on a small settee.
"It's half a mile too short for you," he said with a smile.
"I can lengthen it, or double myself up," replied Bob, who was indeed
more than satisfied with his quarters when he saw the space allotted to
the officers--four tiny cabins, each of which could have stood
comfortably on an ordinary four-poster bedstead. Amidships were the
engine-room and stoke-holds, shimmering with a white light from the
furnaces, so intense that the stokers had to wear coloured glass goggles
to preserve their eyes from blindness. The stokers, strong of arm and
steady of nerve, looked like small demons from the Inferno as they kept
cheerful watch on the gauges, cooped up as they were within the length
of a man's body from the blazing mouths.
On the fo'c'sle forward were the conning-tower and the captain's bridge,
with the _Kasumi's_ single heavy gun--a twelve-pounder. Beneath, in a
compartment about half as long again as a full-sized billiard-table, was
the bed- and sitting-room of the crew; three rows of hammocks were slung
along each side, one beneath another. In a heavy sea the whole deck, in
spite of the steel breastwork on each side of the conning-tower was
liable to be swept with water from end to end. Bob was not squeamish,
but he shuddered as he imagined the conditions under which the crew
spent their watch below. It was a lucky thing, he thought, that the
Japanese require even less than the limited space indispensable to the
British Jack-tar.
The _Kasumi_ was rolling and pitching so inconsiderately when Bob
boarded her, that in making his way along the deck in Yamaguchi's wake
he had to cling to every available means of support. And yet the swell
had only been sufficient to give a pleasant, slow, rocking movement to
the _Hatsuse_ he had just left. But it was not until the gallant craft
began to drive her nose at speed into a head sea that Bob began to
realize what life on a torpedo-destroyer really was. There was perhaps
a little less roll, but the pitching was a revelation of what a boat can
suffer without breaking her back. Bob clung to a stanchion, expecting
every moment that the huge mass of water breaking over the fore-bridge
and flooding the deck amidships would rend the vessel asunder. It
seemed impossible that the hull, of merely egg-shell thickness, could
survive the strain. The low bow slugged into a monstrous bank of green
water. "Now she's done for!" thought Bob. But a moment later she was
balanced giddily on the crest of the wave, and began to switchback into
the abyss beneath. All the time the mighty heart of the vessel was
throbbing strenuously; Bob caught himself counting the pulse with a kind
of anxiety lest the engines should prove unequal to their task.
"How do you like this?" said Yamaguchi in Bob's ear.
"Pretty well; it's rather be-wild--"
He was choked by a shower of spray, which left him gasping.
"You'll soon get used to it," said Yamaguchi with a smile.
It was some hours, however, before Bob was sufficiently accustomed to
the _Kasumi's_ eccentricities to be able to move about with any freedom.
He found meal-time in the little ward-room particularly trying. The
food was served out in tins; the officers sat at the table with feet
planted firmly on the floor, and managed to gulp their soup between the
rolls of the vessel. But Bob was not sufficiently practised to time his
movements properly. He would raise the tin to his lips, only to find
that he opened his mouth on empty air, or that the soup made a premature
sally and covered a considerable part of his face and clothes, a mere
starvation portion entering at the proper gate.
There was an even more unpleasant experience in store for him when he
turned in for the night. Do what he could he was unable to avoid being
tossed off the settee, rolled under the table, and brought up with a
jolt at the opposite side of the room. The most ingeniously-contrived
breastwork of cushions proved of no avail; it might survive a roll and a
pitch separately, but when the motions were combined it was incapable of
the complicated resistance necessary, and Bob, just dropping off to
sleep, found himself sprawling among his bastions and outworks beneath
the table.
"Hang it!" he growled, groping upwards after one of these mishaps;
"better stay where I'm chucked!"
He pulled his coverlets off, and making a bed beneath the settee and one
leg of the table, managed to reduce the area of his gyrations by
clutching the table leg whenever his equilibrium was in jeopardy.
It was a still, fair morning when, on awaking from his troubled sleep
and going on deck, he saw before him the city of Chemulpo rising from
the sea-front up a steep snow-clad hill. It looked very picturesque in
the sunlight. The quay was crowded with Koreans in their strange black
mitre-shaped caps and long tasselled coats; coolies trudging along under
burdens pendent to yokes of forked sticks bound to their shoulders;
greatcoated Japanese soldiers, just landed from the transports in the
harbour, moving with a brisk purposeful alacrity. Brawny Korean boatmen
were propelling heavy-laden sampans from the transports to the quay;
children in blue padded garments were running about, watching everything
with wide curious eyes, and getting in everybody's way.
But what attracted most attention and caused most excitement on the
_Kasumi_ was the sight of the wrecks of the Russian ships sunk after the
action of February 8. In one case a part of the hull, in the other only
the funnel and mast, stood up a little above the waterline in the
harbour,--shattered remnants of the _Korietz_ and _Variag_; and as the
_Kasumi_ steamed past, Bob had his first opportunity of seeing at close
quarters something of the effects of modern weapons of destruction. But
there was no sign of any Japanese war-ships; as Bob afterwards learnt,
they had left harbour some time previously for an unknown destination.
Bob, in company with Yamaguchi, was punted to the quay in a sampan, and
he could not but admire the dexterity with which the muscular boatman,
standing in the bows, drove the tapering-prowed boat through the
bewildering maze of small craft. There was no time to explore the town,
for Yamaguchi at once made for the railway-station. He had told Bob that
he was the bearer of a communication from Admiral Togo to General Kuroki
at Seoul, and Bob, having nothing to do in Admiral Uriu's absence, was
ready enough to accept his invitation to accompany him. Soon the train
was bearing them over snow-covered flats, past rough huts, round the
bases of the white hills, into the more open country, and finally over a
broad ice-bound river to the terminus some distance from the walls of
Seoul. There, instead of hiring a rickshaw as Bob expected, Yamaguchi
hastened into the city through one of the arched and towered gateways,
and passing up the crowded main street, boarded a small electric
tram-car, in which the Korean passengers were as much at home as any
European.
"Up to date, you see," said Yamaguchi.
"Yes; upon my word the Far East is going ahead. Fancy electric cars in
Korea!"
"Japanese, my friend. Owned by a Japanese company; driver, conductor,
all the employees are Japanese."
"A peaceful conquest of the country to begin with."
"Now I must leave you," said Yamaguchi, as they stepped out of the car.
"You won't mind waiting for me for a few minutes?"
The few minutes lengthened themselves out to nearly an hour before the
lieutenant returned, but Bob found the time short, so much did he see
that interested him. He watched the people passing. Some of the men,
he noticed, were hatless, and wore their hair long; others had short
hair, and through their transparent flower-pot-shaped hats he could see
a curious top-knot on their heads, the distinguishing mark, as he
afterwards learnt, of the married men. One old man, as he passed,
opened out a fan-shaped bundle of oil-paper which dangled from his belt,
and tied it over his hat, which it served in the office of an umbrella
against a light shower of snow then falling. Everybody wore huge padded
trousers and a short bell-shaped coat with wide sleeves, and walked
along on strange sandal-like shoes bound to the feet by many strands of
paper cord. Scarcely any women were to be seen; the Korean ladies are
kept secluded, and do not go out into the streets except at night. The
few women whom Bob saw were almost hidden by their long green cloaks,
with which they hastily covered their heads at the appearance of a
stranger.
While waiting for Yamaguchi outside the pagoda-shaped house in which
General Kuroki was staying, Bob saw a Chinaman come out, whom he
instantly recognized as the younger of the two men who had so
opportunely run to his assistance at Sasebo. On the impulse of the
moment Bob stepped forward to speak to the man, but remembered suddenly
that he knew no English. The Chinaman passed by without giving any sign
of recognition. Soon afterwards Yamaguchi appeared, and, announcing
that he found it necessary to remain in Seoul until the next morning,
offered to show Bob some of the curiosities of the town. The rest of
that day was spent in wandering through the broad streets and side
alleys, blocked with wares encroaching from the shops, and crowded with
noisy, dirty little children playing happily in the filthy gutters.
Yamaguchi explained how greatly the city had been improved of recent
years, chiefly through the energy of Mr. M'Leavy Brown, the brilliant
Scotsman who had so long and so wisely held the administration of the
Customs.
Next morning Yamaguchi again had an interview with General Kuroki. As
he left the house with Bob, the Chinaman whom the latter had seen on the
previous day came up in the opposite direction, and Bob thought he saw a
faint sign of recognition pass between him and the Japanese.
"Who is he?" asked Bob, when the Chinaman had passed. "I saw him
yesterday, and a month ago at Sasebo, and I can't help thinking I had
seen him somewhere before that."
"All Chinamen are pretty much alike, don't you think?"
Bob saw that Yamaguchi had evaded his question and was not disposed to
give any information. Such silence only piqued his curiosity, and as
they went on he found himself speculating still more deeply on the
identity of the Chinese merchant, and endeavouring to recall the
circumstances of their first meeting, which had not been, he was sure,
at Sasebo.
New transports had evidently just arrived, for the streets were filled
with Japanese soldiers, guns, and baggage-trains, preparing to move up
country. Bob noticed, at the entrance of a side street, a Korean
gentleman of high rank, to judge by his rich dress, waiting on horseback
for a troop of cavalry to pass. Beside him was a group of Koreans,
apparently his servants, and among them a low palanquin, elaborately
decorated, through the open side of which Bob caught a glimpse of a
veiled lady. The bearers, two fine-looking coolies, in white robes and
round hats, stood at the front and rear of the palanquin.
The cavalry trotted by, and Bob, as he walked after them, remarked with
a smile to Yamaguchi that they were not very easy riders.
"That is true," replied Yamaguchi, "but in the mud and snow of Korea
they'll prove more useful than your Life Guards."
They had barely gone a quarter of a mile up the street, when Bob noticed
a sudden commotion among them. The horse of one of the rearmost
troopers, startled by the sudden appearance at the end of an alley of a
bull heavily laden with bundles of straw, began to prance and curvet,
then wheeled round, bucked, and, throwing its rider, set off on a mad
gallop down the street. Bob instinctively looked behind him to see what
there was to check the animal's mad career. He saw that the Korean
gentleman had resumed his journey, being propped up by a servant on each
side lest he should topple over on his high saddle; with the palanquin
and his servants, he took up almost the whole width of the street. By
this time people were shouting, and the clatter of the horse's hoofs was
coming ever nearer. With one consent the Korean's servants ran to the
sides of the street, the palanquin bearers dropped their poles and left
the conveyance in the middle of the road, while the gentleman himself
struggled with his horse, which had been rendered restive by the
ever-increasing clamour.
Nothing stood between the palanquin and the runaway steed but Bob and
Yamaguchi. Clearly, unless the animal's progress was checked, in a few
moments it would dash into the palanquin, and that, being constructed
chiefly of bamboo and lacquer, was certain to be utterly wrecked, while
its occupant would probably be killed, or at any rate seriously injured.
The danger of the situation was instantly manifest. Bob dashed forward a
few yards to meet the advancing horse; then, having placed a sufficient
distance between himself and the palanquin, he halted suddenly and stood
full in the pathway of the runaway animal. It came straight down upon
him at a mad gallop. As it passed Bob sprang slightly aside, and
seizing its hanging bridle dragged on it with all his might.
Fortunately it was a light horse, standing only some fourteen hands; but
in spite of this Bob felt as though his arm were being wrenched from its
socket as he clutched at the reins. He was dragged along and almost
pulled off his feet; but Yamaguchi came to his assistance, and the
frightened animal was brought to a stop within a yard of the palanquin.
There it stood with heaving flanks and panting nostrils, quivering.
Bob retained the bridle, and was beginning to lead the the horse up the
street towards his rider, who was more chagrined than hurt, when the
Korean gentleman overtook him on foot. He was extremely agitated, and,
making a low bow, began to pour out his thanks in the strange monotonous
jerky language of the country. Yamaguchi, interrupting him, spoke a few
words in the same tongue. The Korean stopped, made a still lower
obeisance, and said slowly in a strange compound of colloquial English
and journalese that tickled Bob's sense of humour:
"I thank you very much, hon'ble sir. You do me gigantic favour. You
save my wife--better-half, by your daring courage. It was jolly close
thing. Accept, hon'ble sir, my profound thanks."
Bob bowed his acknowledgments, but his embarrassment was rather
increased when the polite Korean, untying one of several little bags of
orange-coloured silk that hung at his waist-band and served him as
pockets, produced a limp visiting-card, and handed it with another low
bow to his benefactor. Bob thanked him, and looked in some perplexity
at the incomprehensible hieroglyphics on the card.
"You do not understand?" said the Korean. "My name, hon'ble sir, is
San-Po. I am--" He stopped and looked puzzled, evidently at a momentary
loss for an English word. Then his brow cleared, and he added rapidly:
"I am helping-to-decide in His Imperial Majesty's War Office. If,
hon'ble sir, you do me honour of a visit in my house towards An-ju, I
shall esteem it greatest hon'ble favour--jolly well pleased."
Yamaguchi was smiling, evidently enjoying the situation. He did not
offer to help Bob out of his embarrassment.
"Thank you, sir," said Bob, "I am afraid I am not coming that way just
now, but another time--perhaps--"
He finished the sentence with a bow, to which the Korean responded with
a lavish acknowledgment of his condescension. As Bob turned to continue
his journey with Yamaguchi, he became aware that Korean courtliness has
its obverse. Though he did not understand the words, there was no
mistaking the tenor of the vehement harangue which the gentleman was
addressing to his absconding bearers, who had now slunk back to their
poles.
"What in the world does he mean by helping-to-decide in the War Office?"
asked Bob.
"Oh, the war minister, the Pan-Go, or decisive signature, has what you
call under-secretaries, the Cham Pan, which means help to decide; and
under them are the Cham Wi, which means help to discuss. Our polite
friend is one of the Cham Pan. But it really doesn't matter, for the
whole army is quite useless. It never fights."
"All shams together," said Bob with a smile.
"San-Po spent a year or two in England: entered at Lincoln's Inn, I
believe: that explains his command of English."
"It's a fearful and wonderful mixture. Mr. Helping-to-decide is rather
an oddity. I'd rather like to see him at home, though I don't suppose I
should enjoy it so much as my visit to Nikko. I never had a better time
than with one of your countrymen there, Kobo San."
"Kobo San!" ejaculated Yamaguchi, with an accent of surprise.
"Yes. Do you know him?"
"I've met him," replied the lieutenant shortly, with another change of
tone. Bob looked at him, but his face was inscrutable.
*CHAPTER VII*
*The Battle of the Destroyers*
A Chance for the Destroyers--Flotillas in Action--Winged--Repairing
Damages--To the Yalu
Yamaguchi's business in Seoul being completed, he lost no time in
returning to Chemulpo. In default of other instructions, he decided to
keep Bob with him, and half an hour after his arrival, the _Kasumi_
steamed out of the harbour to rejoin the fleet. Its fringe came into
sight some ninety miles south-east of the Liau-ti-shan promontory.
Through his glass Bob saw a destroyer detach itself from the squadron
and come rapidly towards the _Kasumi_.
"Coming to make sure who we are," remarked Yamaguchi.
When the identity of the new-comer had been satisfactorily established,
the other boat ran up signals, from which Yamaguchi learnt the position
of the main fleet. Two hours later the _Kasumi_, going at half-speed,
sighted the cruiser squadron, and about five miles beyond them the
forest of military tops belonging to the Japanese battle-ships. Running
close up to the _Mikasa_, Yamaguchi went off in a boat to make his
report to Admiral Togo, and returned in high feather at having been
ordered to place himself at the disposal of Captain Asai, who was in
command of three destroyers that formed the first division of the
Japanese torpedo flotilla.
"What about me?" asked Bob.
"Not a word. The fact is, I forgot all about you. I didn't mention you,
neither did the admiral."
"Out of sight out of mind," remarked Bob. "But I'm delighted to hear
it, for now that I'm used to this cockle-shell's little eccentricities
I'm perfectly at home. Is there any chance of your going into action?"
"Every chance, I should think. I fancy we're going to have another slap
at the enemy."
"The whole fleet, you mean?"
"No I don't. I've an idea the admiral wants to see how we mosquitoes
can sting. Feel jumpy?"
"Not in the slightest. There's nothing I'm more anxious to see."
"Well, it may be pluck, but I call it sheer ignorance. Here we are in
mid-ocean, a mere egg-shell--you know that; but we've enough explosives
in our magazines to send half London sky-high, and a single fortunate
shot plumping into us would separate us all into our elementary atoms."
The desired order came sooner than was expected. Late in the afternoon
of Wednesday, March 9, Admiral Togo signalled two divisions of
destroyers to approach Port Arthur, the one division to watch the
entrance while the other laid mines at various points along the coast.
The former duty was allotted to Captain Asai's division. Darkness had
fallen, and the sea was rolling high, when the two flotillas, followed
at a considerable distance by a couple of cruisers, broke off from the
rest of the fleet and steamed northwards towards Port Arthur. On the
_Kasumi_ there was none of the orderly bustle of clearing for action
that Bob had observed on the _Mikasa_. A destroyer must always be
ready. The ward-room and the warrant officer's mess were fitted up as
hospitals for wounded; the trolley for bringing torpedoes from the
magazine under the turtle-back deck to the tubes aft was tested along
the rails; Yamaguchi had a short colloquy with the engineer; and then he
went to his place on the fore-bridge, confident that all was right.
The flotilla opened up the lights of the port about midnight. The
presence of the boats was soon discovered by Russian scouts, for at
irregular intervals the guns of the forts tried long-range shots at
them. Within a few miles of the port the divisions separated, the
second steaming straight for the harbour, where it proceeded to lay
mines from the mouth of the channel along the coast towards Dalny.
Captain Asai's three vessels meanwhile cruised off the Liau-ti-shan
promontory.
Bob remained all night with Yamaguchi on the bridge, finding it less
chilly there than below. In spite of the blazing furnaces he had never
felt cold so keenly as in the captain's cabin when he dived down the
small circular hatchway to fetch Yamaguchi an extra jacket. At about
three o'clock in the morning they began to run down the coast. There
was a head sea, which broke in great masses over the fore-deck, the
driving spray being carried high over the canvas screens surrounding the
bridge. Dawn was just breaking when the look-out descried the low hulls
of several destroyers far-off on the horizon. The intelligence was at
once signalled to Captain Asai on the _Akatsuki_. From his bridge he
soon discovered that the approaching vessels were six in number;
obviously they could not belong to the Japanese squadron. The order was
instantly given to attack. Everything was already prepared for
immediate action; every man was at his post; and the three vessels,
cutting at the rate of an express train through the heavy seas, bore
straight down on the six Russian destroyers.
"It's long odds on the Russians," remarked Bob to Yamaguchi.
The Japanese shrugged. "They're not islanders," he said; "we're like
you Britishers, sea-dogs from birth, and our seamanship is a trifle
better than theirs, I fancy. Besides, we're probably better armed. A
Russian destroyer only has three-pounder quick-firers besides its
twelve-pounders. Their shots can pierce our egg-shell, of course, but
our six-pounder shots will do far more damage to their interiors."
"Won't you use your torpedoes, then?"
"No. Dog doesn't eat dog: we keep our torpedoes for larger game."
"You are not using the conning-tower?" asked Bob, noticing that
Yamaguchi showed no sign of leaving the bridge.
"No; it is better to take one's risk in the open. Those peep-holes are
rather worrying when you want to have a good look at the enemy."
The three vessels were now in line ahead--steaming straight for the
Russian flotilla, the _Akatsuki_ leading, the _Kasumi_ a quarter of a
mile behind, and the _Asashio_ making a good third at the same distance.
Bob on the fore-bridge was tingling with exhilaration. All his
faculties seemed to be braced up. He had no sense of danger, in spite
of his knowledge that one lucky shot from the Russians might explode the
magazine beneath him and destroy the ship and every soul on board. His
strongest feeling was one of impatience. The vessel was bounding along
at more than race-horse speed; yet it appeared to be going slowly, too
slowly, and he felt he would have liked to cry "Hurry up! hurry up!
faster! faster!"
Two minutes had passed since the order "Full speed ahead!" Then from
the fore-bridge of the _Akatsuki_ the six-pounder shrieked. From that
moment Bob saw and heard nothing except what went on in his own vessel.
Immediately after the _Akatsuki_ had opened fire, Yamaguchi gave his
first order. There was an ear-splitting report; the vessel seemed
almost to pause momentarily in its career, like a racer pulled up on its
haunches; and a second or two later Bob saw a cloud of smoke over the
fore-deck of the leading Russian boat, which, travelling at thirty
knots, instantly shook off the pall and emerged from it with one funnel
completely shattered. Bob did not hear the explosion of the shell; the
din from the _Kasumi_ and the other Japanese vessels, and from the
approaching Russians, was too great to allow individual sounds, except
within a few feet, to be distinguished. Almost before he was aware of
it, the two flotillas had met and passed; they were within a few yards
of each other, so near that the faces of the Russian seamen were easily
visible; but Bob afterwards remembered few details, for the actual time
of transit could be measured by seconds. The vessels sped past at a
combined speed of some sixty miles an hour.
As the _Kasumi_ came abreast of the leading Russian boat, which had
already received a battering from the _Akatsuki_, her twelve-pounder
added a growling bass to the whining of the lighter guns, now firing at
their maximum speed. At this moment a shot from a three-pounder struck
the compass-box on the fore-bridge, just above the chart-room, and a few
feet from where Bob was standing. A splinter from the bursting shell
hit the gunner serving the six-pounder on the bridge; the man was killed
in an instant; a comrade came imperturbably to take his place.
Immediately afterwards a twelve-pounder shell carried away the
ventilator of the aft stokehold, and a three-pounder, penetrating the
hull as though it were of paper, exploded in the ward-room, severely
injuring a man waiting there to receive the wounded. Then the rearmost
vessels of the two squadrons passed, and the _Kasumi's_ twelve-pounder
astern got in a parting shell, which took effect apparently among the
boilers of the Russian, for when the smoke from the bursting charge had
cleared away, the vessel was seen to be enveloped in a vast cloud of
steam. Bob was surprised at the small total effect of such vigorous
firing on both sides, though he realized afterwards that at the rate at
which the vessels were steaming it was still more surprising that the
effect was so great as it was.
But the fight was not yet over. At a signal from the _Akatsuki_ the
Japanese vessels spun round almost within their own length, and started
in pursuit of the enemy, now steaming at half-speed to cover the retreat
of the damaged boat. The Russian flotilla was somewhat bunched;
presumably the boats had been hard hit, and either their commander had
no definite plan of action, or their mechanism had been so much damaged
as to retard their movements. Two had turned, but three others were
manoeuvring in a small space, hampering one another, while the sixth,
the lame duck, was making the best of its solitary way in the direction
of Port Arthur. Captain Asai was quick to seize his opportunity.
Slightly altering his course so as to cut obliquely across the path of
the Russians, he brought the whole of his port-side guns to bear upon
the huddled enemy; then before the Russians had time to take advantage
of the broad target offered to them, he reverted to the line-ahead
formation, and bore straight down upon them.
This time the two flotillas passed at such close quarters that a man
could have thrown a line from one ship to the deck of its opponent.
They were moving at less speed than in the former encounter, and the
effects of their mutual bombardment were correspondingly greater. For
the first time Bob was conscious of a tremor, not of personal fear, but
a reflex of the wild scene around. It seemed to him as if nothing could
survive the hail of shells that screamed and whistled through the air,
to burst with ear-splitting crash whenever one was fortunate enough to
find its billet in the hull or upper works of the gallant _Kasumi_. One
shell, apparently from a three-pounder, ricochetted off the turtle-back
deck beneath the forebridge, and burst in the air about ten yards to
starboard, the splinters breaking a hole in the aftermost funnel and
knocking a corner off the compass-box that stood within a few feet of
it.
"There goes our second compass. We have only the standard left," said
Yamaguchi.
Almost at the same moment there was a crash just below the spot where
Bob was standing. A twelve-pounder shell had passed clean through the
chart-room without exploding.
"A narrow squeak!" said Bob.
"Yes; we'll give that fourth Russian a little pepper," replied
Yamaguchi, his face lit with the joy of service.
He gave an order, and all the _Kasumi's_ port six-pounders let fly at
the Russian destroyer, several shells ploughing into her hull just above
the water-line. Bob noticed the strained expression on the faces of the
Russian seamen, and one vivid picture flashed upon his retina and was
gone--the picture of a man, struck by a fragment of a Japanese shell,
falling with outstretched arms across his gun. A few seconds more and
the _Kasumi_ again came abreast of the last vessel in the Russian line.
She replied so feebly to Yamaguchi's skilfully-aimed broadside that it
was evident she had already been severely handled by the _Asashio_, now
leading. But as the vessels passed, a big Russian picked up a tin
canister and hurled it with such good aim at the _Kasumi_ that it fell
on the platform of the fore-bridge between Yamaguchi and Bob. The
latter instantly lifted it to throw into the sea, but Yamaguchi stayed
his hand.
"There's no danger," he said; "it will not explode now. We'll keep it;
I'll make you a present of it."
At that instant a three-pounder shell exploded in the aft stoke-hold,
bursting a steam-pipe, and dangerously wounding one of the engineers.
"Poor Minamisawa!" said Yamaguchi, when he heard of it. "He was twice
commended for gallantry during the attack on Port Arthur a month ago."
By this time the flotillas had again passed each other. But on turning
once more to renew the fight, Captain Asai found that the enemy had had
enough of it. They were steaming full speed ahead towards the harbour.
The order was given to pursue; but the Russians had obtained too great a
start to permit of their being overhauled before gaining the protection
of their cruisers and shore batteries. The pursuit had necessarily to be
abandoned, and the Japanese commanders turned their attention to making
good the damage sustained during the action.
The full results of this spirited forty minutes' engagement were not
known on board the _Kasumi_ until some time afterwards. Near the
entrance to the harbour two of the Russian destroyers were intercepted
by the second Japanese flotilla. The Russians, battered as they had
been, showed no lack of courage. There was a short, sharp fight, during
which one of the boats slipped past the enemy and got away. The second,
however, the _Stereguschitshi_, was not so fortunate. She fell a prey
to a Japanese destroyer, and was taken in tow. But she was leaking
badly; the tow-rope was snapped like a thread of cotton by a heavy sea,
and, left to her fate, the _Stereguschitshi_ went down.
Meanwhile the three vessels of Captain Asai's division lay for about an
hour with only steering-way on, until the extent of their injuries
should have been ascertained and as far as possible repaired. On the
_Kasumi_ two compass-boxes had been damaged, part of the fore-bridge
carried away, one funnel breached, the chart-room almost entirely
wrecked; but the most serious injury was the shattering of the
steam-pipe, throwing one engine out of action. The other two vessels
stood by while some repairs were being made; it was not safe to leave
the _Kasumi_ to face alone the risk of the appearance of the Russian
cruiser squadron. The work was barely completed, indeed, when two
cruisers, the _Bayan_ and the _Novik_, the latter flying Admiral
Makaroff's flag, steamed out of Port Arthur and ran down towards the
three destroyers. But at the same moment a forest of military masts
appeared on the horizon: the Japanese fleet was evidently coming up in
support; and the two Russians, fearful of being cut off, retired,
fighting at long range with the leading Japanese cruisers until they ran
in under shelter of the forts.
"Another bombardment coming off?" said Bob to Yamaguchi, as the splendid
battle-ships went by.
"Perhaps. The flagship is signalling us."
"What are the signals?"
"Nothing important; the admiral merely says he is satisfied with us."
The flush of pleasure was not on Yamaguchi's cheeks, but on Bob's. He
remembered the historic "Well done, _Condor_!" and felt a sympathetic
glow.
The battle-ships steamed past, and took up a position whence they could
neither see the Russian vessels nor be seen by them. Depending on
high-angle fire from their twelve-inch guns, they sent shell after shell
into the town and harbour, the effect of their shots being signalled by
wireless telegraphy from the cruiser squadron stationed round the point.
The bombardment lasted for nearly four hours, during which several
outbreaks of fire were seen in the town, and a distant explosion
announced that a magazine had been blown up. There was but little reply
from the Russians, and about two o'clock Admiral Togo, having
accomplished his immediate purpose, retired, accompanied by the cruiser
and destroyer squadrons.
Two hours later Yamaguchi was signalled to go aboard the flagship. It
was blowing hard at the time, and seas were sweeping the deck of the
_Kasumi_, tossing her about, and rendering the launching of her boat a
matter of no little difficulty. By the time the little lieutenant
reached the _Mikasa_ he must have been drenched through and through.
"Well," said Bob, when he returned, "are you promoted again?"
"No; but you are."
"What do you mean?"
"The admiral has remembered you, that's all. This morning, being
forgotten, you were at zero; you may be soon at boiling-point. I am to
put you on board the _Yoshino_--if I can."
"Ugh! it won't be a dry passage. If you can, you say?"
"Yes; I am ordered to the mouth of the Yalu, and shall drop you on the
way, if I can do so without losing time."
"In a hurry, then?"
But Yamaguchi made no reply. He was telephoning to the engine-room. In
a few minutes the _Kasumi_ was slugging through the sea, half-speed
ahead, in a north-easterly direction. The wind increased to half a
gale; huge seas broke continually with thud and swish over the vessel,
and Bob did not relish the prospect of the swamping he must undergo if
he were to reach the _Yoshino's_ side. He was overjoyed when he saw
that the distance between the destroyer and the cruiser squadron was
increasing instead of diminishing. Yamaguchi had clearly given up the
idea of putting him aboard the _Yoshino_. From his manner Bob had
already guessed that the expedition on which he was now speeding was one
of some importance, and when at length the lieutenant turned to him and
said, laconically, "Can't waste time over you", his pulse leapt at the
thought that he was still to remain on the _Kasumi_ and share in
whatever adventure there might be in store.
*CHAPTER VIII*
*Cut Off*
Secret Service--Yamaguchi Returns--A Quick Change--A Bleak Ride--On the
Trail
For some time Yamaguchi was too intently occupied in navigating the
vessel between the Elliott and the Blonde islands to concern himself
with Bob. But when he was through the strait he left the bridge and
went below to get something to eat. Then for the first time he told Bob
what his mission was. He had been ordered to survey the coast-line of
Korea Bay as far as the Yalu, to report on the state of the ice, and
especially to examine the condition of things at the mouth of the river.
If he could at the same time pick up any information as to the
disposition of the Russian forces along the shore, so much the better;
but though he might run any personal hazards, he was on no account to
risk his vessel; in war time destroyers cannot easily be replaced.
"You're fixed up for ten days, you see," he said to Bob. "I'm to be back
in that time, and you're bound to remain with me."
"You'll have to go ashore, I suppose," said Bob.
"Yes, if I can get through the ice. And I think I can. I've been this
way before; I suppose that's why the admiral selected me for the job.
Unless it's because one of our engines is out of action. The ice
usually clings to the shore till some time after this, but just before
we reach Taku-shan there's a spit of land where, by some movement of the
currents, the ice is sometimes loosened; and if I'm lucky, there'll be
passage-way for a boat, if not for the destroyer herself."
"I say, you'll let me go with you."
"Certainly not. I'm already one notch down through not being able to
put you on the _Yoshino_, and I can't afford to report you gone for
good."
"But why shouldn't I go where you go?"
"Well, for one thing, it's my job and not yours. The admiral has plenty
of lieutenants, but only one Bob Fawcett! Besides, why take you into
danger? If the Russians catch me, I'm shot. Well, that's part of my
work; but you--you'd be shot too, and an Englishman is worth--how many
of any other nation?"
"Too many to count," said Bob smiling.
"Anyhow, you're twice as heavy as me, and nearly twice as tall; and
another thing, you'd find it hard to pass for a Chinaman."
"Oh! you're going in for disguises, then."
"Yes, I shall stick on a pigtail; I won't be caught if I can help it."
"D'you know, I've an idea. Your mention of a disguise makes me wonder
if that Chinaman I saw in Seoul wasn't a Chinaman after all. I saw him
before at Sasebo with another fellow; there was something about them I
seemed to know. D'you think they were really Japanese I had caught
sight of in Tokio?"
"It's possible, of course; but I shouldn't jump to conclusions. Their
disguise must have been pretty feeble if you saw through it after only a
casual glimpse in Tokio."
"Ah! I've a good memory for faces. But let us go on deck, it's so
horribly cold down here."
By this time the vessel had left the Elliott Islands some ten knots on
her port quarter. Looking out in that direction, Bob drew Yamaguchi's
attention to the masts of several vessels that stood up among the
islands. The lieutenant smiled, but said nothing. Bob, in spite of
himself somewhat annoyed at his friend's reticence, formed his own
conclusion: the ships were probably transports landing men or supplies
on the islands, or preparing the way for a Japanese army-corps in
anticipation of a siege of Port Arthur.
Keeping well out in the bay, the _Kasumi_ thrashed her way through a
head-sea on a course north-east by east. Darkness came on, and loth
though he was to go below and shiver, Bob at length was so tired that he
had to turn in. He spent a by no means comfortable night. It was like
sleeping under a blanket of ice. During the hours of darkness, in order
to save coal, the _Kasumi_ went at less than half-speed, and it was
nearing dawn when she arrived off Taku-shan. All that day Yamaguchi
kept her far out, so that she should not be seen from the shore, which
was fringed with ice. The wind had dropped, leaving only a long swell
on the waters of the bay. At nightfall the _Kasumi_ ran in, careful
soundings being taken at various points; and Yamaguchi found, as he had
hoped, that the current had kept open a narrow waterway between Takushan
and the island of Talu. Announcing his decision to go ashore, he went
to the ward-room, and soon returned, transformed into a very presentable
young Chinaman, drooping moustache, skull-cap, pigtail, and all. A boat
was lowered, and the lieutenant departed, saying that he would probably
return by daylight.
That was the first of several short expeditions Yamaguchi made at night
to the shore. Bob could never induce him to speak of what he did, but
noticed that he always appeared abundantly satisfied. On all these
occasions the same plan was followed: Yamaguchi was rowed in the
darkness as near to the shore as the ice-fringe allowed; he finished the
distance on the ice; and the boat returned to the _Kasumi_ until just
before dawn, when it again went shorewards and brought him off.
Four days thus passed away, and on the evening of the fourth, when the
_Kasumi_ had come opposite the mouth of the Yalu, Yamaguchi told Bob
that he was now going on the last of these night journeys, and hoped, on
his return, to rejoin the fleet and make his report to Admiral Togo.
"I may be away longer this time," he said.
"Can't I go? Every time you have been away I have been in a perfect
stew lest you shouldn't come back, and I find it all precious slow."
"Very sorry, but it's impossible."
"How long do you expect to be away this time?"
"I can't say, but I have three days' rice stowed away in my pockets. I
hope I shall not be so long as that. You had better amuse yourself by
playing 'go'."
"But what if the Russian fleet comes up while you're away? For my part,
I don't understand a commander leaving his vessel like this."
"You are not the admiral, you see. I don't think you need trouble about
the Russians. The Port Arthur fleet daren't come, and the Vladivostock
one probably can't. Good-bye."
Two days passed away, and by the end of the second Bob was almost tired
of his life; he had played "go" till he went nearly mad. He wandered
all over the vessel, examining for the tenth time every nook and cranny
of it, until he felt that he could have drawn plans of its construction
from memory. He got one of the gunners who knew something of English to
teach him a little Japanese--common phrases like _Nodo ga
kawakimashita_, "I am thirsty", which to a Japanese is "throat has
dried"; and "I am hungry"--_O naka ga sukimashita_, "honourable inside
has become empty"; and "it is horribly cold"--_O samu gozaimasu_,
"honourably cold augustly is", until he wondered whether it would be
correct Japanese to say "I'll augustly punch your honourable head". But
even such amusement as this palled; and to his own restlessness was
presently added anxiety about Yamaguchi, for whom he felt sincere
affection. At sundown on both evenings the boat went off towards the
shore in accordance with the captain's instructions, but on both
occasions it returned without him. On the third evening, Bob decided to
accompany the boat. The sky was clearer than it had been for many
nights past; the moon was rising, and whatever danger there had
previously been of the boat being seen from the shore was now more than
doubled. Bob felt anxious, and, as he sat in the bows, peered through
his glass towards the snow-covered flats and low hills that stretch on
either side of the Yalu estuary.
The sailors pulled in to the verge of the ice, then lay on their oars.
Many minutes passed. The crew waited in silence, and as the moon rose
higher and its rays were reflected from the snow, it became almost as
light as day. The sea heavily lapped the sides of the boat and swished
against the jagged edges of the ice; otherwise there was no sound.
Suddenly, against the white background, a small dark form was seen,
apparently rising from the other side of a hillock whose contour was
indistinguishable in the universal white. The object soon defined
itself as a small man running, and at headlong pace. Bob stood up in
some excitement, wondering whether this was Yamaguchi at last.
Immediately afterwards he saw other forms appear upon the crest, and he
drew in his breath sharply as he recognized that these were men on
horseback. They came rapidly over the hillock, and began to descend
towards the sea after the running figure. Bob raised his glass to his
eyes; yes, the runner was Yamaguchi, and the horsemen wore the fur caps
and carried the long lances of Cossacks. It was a race for life!
The hillock was nearly half a mile away. Between it and the boat lay an
almost level stretch of mud flats, covered for many inches by
recently-fallen snow, and fifty yards of ice, now of course
indistinguishable from the land. Could Yamaguchi reach the boat in time?
He had the start of his pursuers, but they were mounted, and, as Bob now
saw, there were eight of them. It was almost impossible that the runner
could escape. Yet it seemed impossible to help him. The seamen in the
boat had rifles, but now that pursuers and pursued had descended the
declivity and come to the flat, a shot, however well aimed, might hit
the man it was intended to assist.
In one tense moment Bob seemed to live a lifetime. Then, with a cry to
the men to remain where they were--which, not knowing English, they
understood rather by the tone than by the words--he sprang over the side
of the boat on to the ridge of ice. It creaked and sank under him, but
he leapt on towards the shore, intent on assisting the flagging
footsteps of the Japanese, who was evidently near the end of his
endurance. The ice crackled and groaned as Bob raced on. He reached
the softer snow, and his pace was checked; he heard a shot from one of
the pursuing Cossacks ring past his ear; he shouted a word of
encouragement to the panting lieutenant, and then, leaping, floundering,
staggering over the intervening yards, he caught Yamaguchi by the arm
and turned to run with him towards the boat, feeling all the time that
theirs was a hopeless case, for the foremost horseman, distancing his
comrades, was now but a dozen yards away.
All at once a shot flashed from the boat. Bob heard a strange sobbing
sigh behind him. A moment after he felt the impact of a heavy body, he
was thrown violently on his face, and a riderless horse galloped madly
on towards the sea.
Bob lay for a few moments dazed on the snow. The cold brought him to
his senses. He heard several shots ring out, and lifting his head
cautiously he saw four Cossacks galloping on to the ice, and three
standing by the side of their horses, taking aim at the boat across
their saddles. Then came the crack of ice beneath the horses' hoofs;
loud cries of distress rose on the air as men and horses floundered in
the water; and a fusillade continued between the dismounted Cossacks on
the shore and the crew of the boat, which was now being rapidly pulled
out to sea. Bob saw his opportunity; it might last but a moment, he had
no time to lose. Rising to his feet, still dizzy from the blow, he saw
a few feet behind him the outstretched body of the dead Cossack; his
horse had returned and was now standing patiently by his side. He
stooped down, quickly relieved the Cossack of his cap, cloak, and arms;
then, going quietly to the animal, he sprang upon its back, saw at a
side-glance that the surviving Cossacks were still occupied, and
touching the horse with his heel, trotted away southward on a line
parallel with the coast, towards a clump of trees looming black against
the moonlit sky more than half a mile away.
Having arrived there, and being out of sight from the scene of his late
adventure, he pulled up to consider his position. Yamaguchi, he hoped,
was by this time well on his way to the _Kasumi_; if only he himself
could remain in hiding until the morning, and the vessel were still
lying off the mouth of the river, it might be possible then to get on
board. All depended on whether the Cossacks who had survived the fray
would notice his disappearance, and the fact that their dead comrade had
been despoiled. That they would not do so was in both cases very
unlikely. His only chance, therefore, would be to make his way
southward, in the hope of coming upon the outposts of one of the
Japanese forces which he knew had been landed in the country. That
course would be attended with considerable danger. News of the recent
incident was bound to bring a larger force of Cossacks upon the scene;
parties of Russians would soon be scouring the country, not only to
discover traces of the fugitive, but to keep an eye open for the torpedo
boat destroyer. It was well-known on the Japanese fleet that Cossacks
were employed to ride up and down the coast and signal the approach of
hostile vessels, and these would scarcely fail to note and follow up the
tracks of his horse in the snow.
"This is a precious fix to be in," he thought; and the more he reflected
the more awkward his position appeared. The chance of getting in touch
with the _Kasumi_ was very remote, for if he emerged from hiding and
went down to the shore he could scarcely hope to escape discovery by
Russian patrols. On the other hand, if he hid during the day he would
not be seen from the destroyer. Besides, the _Kasumi_ was due to rejoin
the fleet; and though he knew that Yamaguchi, if a free agent, would do
anything to serve him, he knew also that, with a Japanese, duty came
inexorably first, and it was vain to expect Yamaguchi to cruise about
indefinitely on the chance of picking him up. Supposing he left hiding
and rode towards the south, there seemed little likelihood of his
reaching the Japanese lines. Their outposts were probably not less than
a hundred miles away. Between them and him many detached parties of
Russians were no doubt patrolling the country. Even if he escaped the
Russians he might fall into the hands of the Koreans, and that would
perhaps prove a case of out of the frying-pan into the fire. Much as
the Koreans hated the Japanese, by all accounts they hated the Russians
still more; and being mounted on a Cossack's horse, and wearing Cossack
uniform, knowing, moreover, nothing of the Korean language, he would
have short shrift if he stumbled among the natives. Yet another
consideration. Both he and his horse must have food. A bundle of hay
was tied to the latter, sufficient perhaps for one feed; and on
rummaging in the saddle-bags he found a little black rye bread and a
flask of vodka. But this was very precarious sustenance, and he would
be forced under stress of hunger to enter a village within twenty-four
hours at the latest.
Of all the dangers besetting him the prospect of being followed up by
the Cossacks of Yongampo was the most immediate, and Bob shut his eyes
to the other contingencies in order to provide against this. Obviously
the farther he got from the scene of the fight the better. He rode
carefully through the clump of bare trees southward, and, emerging into
the open, set his horse at a sharp trot. The ground was covered with
snow to a depth of several feet, and as the horse's feet sank into it
slightly, he concluded that the frost was yielding. Guiding himself by
the sound of the waves lapping against the ice on the shore, which
creaked and groaned, and now and again broke with a sharp report, he
struck along the coast in the direction, as he believed, of Seng-cheng.
The Cossack's deep saddle was very comfortable, but he wished that the
stirrups were lower: his knees were a good deal nearer his nose than he
was accustomed to.
The moon was going down, but there was still sufficient light to show
that, except for a few scattered clumps of wood, the country was very
open, and he knew that in the daytime he could be seen for miles. As he
rode, he therefore looked eagerly about in search of some hiding-place
where he might spend the rest of the night in tolerable security. After
some three or four miles he found that the country was becoming
increasingly difficult. On his left the irregular hills rose more and
more steeply, and he was forced more and more towards the ice. Warned by
his recent experience of the Cossacks, he edged away until he reached at
length the summit of a slope some distance above the sea. Great banks
of cloud were looming up across the sea; the wind was rising, and the
air had that incisive rawness that portends snow. To be caught in a
snowstorm in this bleak latitude would be a calamity, and Bob looked
more anxiously around for shelter.
Some distance above him he saw, outlined against a clear patch of sky
not yet reached by the clouds, a large dark building, which from its
size he thought must be a place of some importance. It was in shape
unlike anything he had previously seen. As he looked towards it, he
caught sight of the last horn of the moon apparently in the very centre
of the building. Evidently the place was a ruin. Whatever hesitation
Bob might have had in approaching an inhabited dwelling-house
disappeared; he made his way towards it with some difficulty, the horse
floundering through drifts which more than once threatened to engulf
him. Arriving at the building, Bob found that it was the ruin of a
large stone pagoda, probably at one time part of a monastery. The wind
howled eerily through its dilapidated walls, but it provided shelter of
a sort; and, what was more important, being situated on a slight
eminence it would give him a good outlook in the morning, not only far
across the sea, but also landward towards the mouth of the Yalu. In
this lonely place, then, Bob determined to pass the remainder of the
night.
His first care was to rub down his horse; then he gave it half the
bundle of hay. Then he unstrapped one of the blankets from the saddle
and proceeded to make himself as comfortable as possible. He swallowed
a few mouthfuls of the bitter bread, took one sip (more than sufficient)
of the burning vodka, and being tired out soon dropped into an uneasy
sleep, from which, with the instinct of one accustomed to early rising,
he awoke at the first pale glint of dawn. Rising stiffly to his feet,
he again fed the horse, ate a little bread, and went outside to look
round.
Northwards, in the direction from which he had come the previous night,
he could see with the naked eye for several miles across the snow; and
through his glass, which he had luckily brought with him, he descried
what was evidently a small town--no doubt Yongampo. Over the whole
white stretch intervening there was no sign of life. Looking then
seaward, he saw a leaden sky, white-crested waves lashed by the high
wind and breaking in angry foam on the ice--nothing more. There was not
a speck on the sea. The _Kasumi_ had left him to his fate.
"And I dare say Yamaguchi is even more sorry than I am," he thought.
Then he turned again to the land and swept the horizon with his glass.
What is that? In the far distance, towards Yongampo, he discerns two
dark specks. He gazes intently, his hands so numbed with cold that he
can scarcely hold the glass steadily. The specks are growing larger.
Both are approaching him, one coming southward in a straight line, the
other making a trend somewhat to his right. For some minutes he gazes
at them; the specks become masses, and gradually define themselves as
bodies of horsemen. Doubtless they are Cossacks; it is time to be up
and away.
*CHAPTER IX*
*Chased by Cossacks*
A View-Halloo--Cossacks at Fault--Bluff--Suspicious Hospitality--On the
Pekin Road--A Hill Tiger
The situation was desperate. One band of Cossacks was evidently
following the tracks of his horse, the other taking a short cut to head
him off. The Mandarin road from Pekin to Seoul could not be far away;
the Russians had probably assumed that he would ride in that direction,
and acquainted as they no doubt were with the neighbourhood, they would
have a great advantage over him. His only hope lay in his horse, which
was fortunately a good one, and in the pink of condition. He must ride,
and ride, and ride.
Returning to the pagoda, he found that the horse had eaten the last wisp
of hay. He led it out, down the slope on the side farthest from the
pursuers, through a dip between two low hills; then coasting round a
somewhat steeper hill which hid the pagoda from sight, he judged it safe
to mount, and was soon cantering over the snow-covered ground. It was
rolling country; at one minute he was as it were on the crest of a wave,
the next he would be in a trough. The snow was soft, and the horse's
hoofs left deep pits in the yielding surface by which the course of his
flight could be easily tracked. Soon he lost sight of the sea, and had
nothing by which to take his bearings; the sky all around was one
unbroken lead-gray. As he rode on, he saw with misgiving that the hills
were becoming lower and lower; he would be in full sight of the Cossacks
when they reached the heights he had just left. There was no
alternative but to push on. Of refuge there was none; the whole country
seemed to be desert, with no marks of human habitation except here and
there a native hut perched on the edge of a clump of trees, the
abandoned home of some wood-cutter.
Every now and then he reined up his horse and turned in the saddle to
see if his pursuers were in sight. Struggling up a long slope, and
halting at the top to breathe the animal, he saw before him an almost
level stretch, and behind him--yes, there they were at last, a band of
at least twenty, who had probably dodged round some of the hills which
he had laboriously climbed. He looked eagerly round; there was no way
of eluding the pursuers. Should he set his steed at the gallop and try
to distance them? That was a vain hope; it would exhaust his panting
horse, and the Cossacks would wear him down, following untiringly upon
his track like wolves. He must on again, and husband the animal's
strength as much as possible.
Down the slope, then, he rode, the horse's breath leaving a trail of
vapour in the cold air. The sky was growing blacker, the wind, which
had been blowing in gusts, dropped; there was no sound but the soft
glugging of the hoofs as they plunged into the snow. Suddenly Bob heard
a faint shout behind him. He knew well what it meant; the Cossacks had
reached the crest of the hill and seen him cantering before them. He
looked over his shoulder; they were no more than a mile distant. In
half an hour they would close in upon him; perhaps the second band had
already come round upon his flank and was now ahead of him; for all he
knew, he might have been riding in a circle. Still he must ride on. He
quickened his horse's pace; some ten minutes later he heard the distant
crack of shots, but as no ping of the bullets followed he guessed that
they had flown wide. But the fact that the Cossacks were firing was
ominous. They were accustomed to take flying shots from the backs of
their steeds; at any moment a luckily-aimed bullet might hit him. He lay
upon the horse's neck and called upon the beast to gallop. More shots,
more shouts pursued him, but the sounds were fainter. The gap between
him and the Cossacks must be widening; could the advantage be
maintained?
He spoke encouragingly to the animal, which galloped along with
wonderful sure-footedness. Suddenly Bob felt a damp, cold dab upon his
brow, then another; he lifted his head, and gave a quick gasp of relief
when he saw that snow was falling. The lowering sky had opened at last;
in a few moments the rider was making his way through a dense shower of
whirling snowflakes, which filled eyes and ears and shut out all objects
beyond a hundred yards. By favour of this white screen he might yet
escape.
To the left he saw a small dark clump of trees stretching up the
hillside. Pushing on until he came level with the furthermost edge he
wheeled round, struck through the fringe of the clump where the trees
were thin, and ascended the hill at right angles to his former course,
in hope that his pursuers, losing him from sight, might overshoot the
spot where he diverged before they discovered their mistake. The
blinding fall of snow must now be fast obliterating his tracks; to
distinguish them the Russians would have to slacken speed; and the few
minutes he thus gained might enable him to escape them altogether. But
he dared not wait; the Cossacks, finding that they failed to overtake
him, would soon cast back and probably scatter in the direction they
would guess him to have taken, and how could he expect to elude them
all? Walking his horse for a few minutes to allow it to recover breath,
he again urged it on, hoping that his luck would yet serve.
The air was still thick with the falling snow; to follow a certain
course was impossible. He rode on. Suddenly he heard a dull thud not
far to his right; could it be the sound of the Cossacks returning
already? Quick as thought he reined up behind a large tree, and peering
round the trunk saw, through the whirling flakes, a number of shadowy
forms flit past in the opposite direction to that in which he had been
going. Mingled with the thudding hoofs came the muffled sound of
voices. He could not distinguish the riders, yet he felt sure that they
were his pursuers. Waiting till all sounds were quenched, he cantered
slowly ahead, knowing now that could he but keep a straight course the
Cossacks would be unable, while the snowfall lasted, to find his trail.
But for an accident he was safe.
Safe, indeed, from the pursuers; but there were still dire perils to
face. He had been riding hard for three hours; the horse had for some
time been showing signs of fatigue; he had no food either for it or for
himself, and he was himself ravenously hungry. He was in a wild,
desolate, sparsely-populated region; should he encounter natives he
would be taken for a Russian; he could not speak their language; even if
his horse's strength held out until he reached an advanced Japanese
outpost, he might be shot before he could make himself understood. Yet,
unless he fell in with someone who would give him shelter and food, he
and his horse alike must succumb to fatigue and cold, and he would have
escaped the Scylla of Russian hands only to meet death from the
Charybdis of the elements. Chilled, tired, hungry as he was, for a
brief moment his mind was crossed by the shadow of despair; but he
pulled himself together, shook the reins, straightened himself, and once
more rode on.
It seemed to him that he was wandering on a vast white Sahara, or adrift
on a wide sea without chart or compass. All at once, on his left hand, a
hut such as he had previously seen from the sea-shore loomed up, like an
excrescence from the white plain. He pulled up, dismounted, and led his
horse towards the building. It was partially ruined. The doorway was
too low to admit the animal, but going round to the back he found a
large gap in the rough mud wall just wide enough to allow the horse to
pass. Here at least there was temporary shelter for both man and beast.
True, there was some risk of the Cossacks appearing even yet; but the
horse could go no farther; while it was resting the snow-storm might
cease, and with a lifting sky he might be able to take his bearings and
strike out a definite course. Leading the animal into the hovel, he
scraped the snow from its body, rubbed it as dry as possible with the
cloths he unrolled from the saddle, and sat down on a billet of wood,
cold, hungry, and depressed.
Thinking, dreaming, he at length fell into a doze. When he awoke, he
noticed that the snow had ceased, and the sky was clearing. It was four
o'clock. Rising stiff with cold, he went outside the hut and observed a
streak of dull red on the horizon.
"That must be the setting sun," he said to himself. "I wonder if,
guiding myself by that, I could by and by reach a village and get food.
Poor old horse! I hope you are not feeling as hungry and miserable as I
am."
He led the beast out and mounted. It was now freezing hard; the snow
gave a metallic crunch under the hoofs as he rode away. Westward,
towards the setting sun, must lie the sea; in that direction there was
nothing to hope for. Northward were the Russians, southward the
Japanese, but how far away? His course must be eastward, for sooner or
later he must strike the high-road, and when once on the high-road he
must in time reach a village. There would always be the risk of meeting
Russians, but he could only chance that. Eastward, therefore, he set
his horse. His advent in a Korean village would not be without danger;
but one peril balanced another, and his plight could scarcely be more
desperate.
He had ridden, as he guessed, some three miles farther across the
valley, when suddenly, in the dusk before him, he descried a cluster of
huts. "At last!" he said to himself with a sigh of relief. Here at any
rate were people; where people were, there must be food--and food, both
for himself and his horse, must be obtained, whatever the risk. The
hamlet might harbour a Cossack patrol; but at this stage Bob felt that
it was no worse to fall into Russian hands than to die of famine on the
snow-clad hills. On the other hand, if there were no Cossacks in the
hamlet, his own appearance in Russian guise would be sufficient to
procure him supplies. The Korean as a fighting man was not, Yamaguchi
had told him, very formidable, so that even if the villagers proved
hostile he felt that he could manage to hold his own.
Taking the Cossack's pistol from the holster, Bob rode on boldly into
the hamlet. To assure himself that it sheltered no Russians, he
cantered right through the narrow street, then turned his horse and made
his way to what appeared to be the principal house. Like all Korean
villages of the poorer sort, this one was dirty and cramped, consisting
of a few one-story houses of mud with thatched roofs. The street was
now deserted; the few people who had been in it when he cantered through
had scattered into their houses when they saw him turn, regarding him no
doubt as the pioneer of a body of Cossacks. He dismounted at the closed
door of the hut, and knocked. There was no reply; save for the bark of
a dog the whole village was shrouded in silence. He knocked again, and
a third time, still without effect; the fourth time he battered
insistently on the door with his pistol. Then he heard a sound within;
the door opened, and by the dim light of a foul-smelling oil-lamp he saw
a very fat elderly Korean spreading himself across the entrance.
Bob knew no Korean, no Russian, no Chinese, and only a few words of
Japanese. These he had perforce to rely on.
"Komban wa!" he said politely, giving the evening greeting.
The man snapped out something in gruff tones.
"Tabe-mono!" added Bob, taking a few Japanese coins out of his pocket.
"Uma! Pan taberu daro!"
The Korean shook his head and began to jabber words incomprehensible to
Bob. His meaning, however, was obvious; he was not inclined to supply
the food for horse and man for which his visitor had asked. Bob was in
no mood to brook reluctance or even dilatoriness. Raising his pistol and
pointing it full at the man's head, he poured out a torrent of the first
abuse that came to him, which happened to be phrases he had heard
addressed to the referee at football matches in the Celtic Park. No
Korean, as he had expected, could stand up against this. In a short time
a feed of corn was brought for his horse; he tied the beast up at the
door, and returning to the room sat down on the stone floor, awaiting
food for himself, and wishing that the furnace in the cellar beneath
were not quite so hot. The air inside the hovel was foul and
suffocating, but a man can put up with a good deal of discomfort when he
is starving, and Bob did not turn up his nose at the evil-smelling
mixture by and by set before him. It was a dish of which the poorer
Koreans are fond--a compound of raw fish, pepper, vinegar, and slabs of
fat pork, and the odour was like mingled collodion and decaying
sea-weed. He tasted it, tried to swallow a mouthful, found it
impossible, and then, in a burst of scarcely feigned rage, demanded
meshi or boiled rice, which he had reason to suppose would be at once
more palatable and more trustworthy. This was in due course
forthcoming, and with the aid of a spoon, the only one the house
contained, he succeeded in disposing of a quantity of food which would
have astonished anyone but a Korean. His host had now become cringingly
polite. Bob questioned him, partly by signs, partly by means of his few
words of Japanese, regarding the direction of Seng-cheng and the Pekin
road. The former, he learnt, was 70 li (about 21 miles) over the hills,
the latter 10 li due east. Thinking over the situation, he resolved to
make boldly for the road, which he knew led direct to Ping-yang, and on
reaching it to travel by night and rest in hiding during the day.
Having made a hearty meal, with a moderate potation of a thin rice beer
which he found very refreshing, he rose to leave, and offered the Korean
a yen, which, as prices go in the country, was probably four times the
value of what he and his horse had consumed. The man, with many bows
and protestations, refused to accept payment. Bob insisted, the Korean
resisted, and, pointing to a wooden pillow-block on the floor and a
quilt hanging on a peg, tried to persuade his visitor to stay the night.
This invitation was politely declined, whereupon the Korean in his turn
became insistent, so that Bob grew suspicious. The man's refusal to
accept money was no doubt an attempt to ingratiate himself with the
Cossack patrol to which he supposed Bob belonged; his pressing
invitation was capable of a less amicable explanation. Bob in his guise
as a Cossack would never think of spending the night alone in a Korean
village; if he fell asleep he might never awaken. Shaking his head
resolutely, he made signs that he wished the remains of his meal to be
put up for him in one of the lacquer boxes he saw in the room. This
having been done with manifest reluctance by his host, he moved forward
his horse, the Korean following him still with pressing entreaty. All
the time that Bob was bundling up a supply of fodder for his horse the
man stood jabbering at his side, but he withstood these persevering
efforts to detain him, and was just about to mount his horse, when he
saw dimly in the dusk, at the end of the street by which he had entered
the village, a body of men whom even in the distance he recognized by
their quaint caps and baggy clothes as Korean infantry.
Instantly he vaulted into the saddle. At the same moment he heard the
bang-bang of rifles and a volley of shouts. His fat host flung himself
flat on his face, and Bob galloped up the street, smiling at the
ineffectiveness of the Koreans' aim, and wondering how long it would
take them to reload. At a turn of the street, even more to their
surprise than to his own, he came plump upon another body of Koreans
marching in no great order in the opposite direction. Evidently a
clumsy attempt had been made to surround him. There was no alternative.
He dashed straight at this new body; they scurried like rabbits to the
sides of the road, yelling with fright, and by the time they had
recovered sufficiently to remember that they were soldiers of the
emperor, Bob was out of sight.
Only a few minutes after Bob had thus routed a Korean detachment, two
Chinamen rode in at the other end of the village. They were shorter
than the average Chinaman; yet, mounted as they were on the high saddles
usual in Korea, their feet nearly touched the ground at the sides of
their diminutive and sorry-looking ponies. They dismounted at the door
of the house that Bob had lately left, and then it could be seen that
the younger of the two was dressed like a respectable Chinese merchant,
the other being evidently his servant.
The merchant enquired of the Korean at the door what was the meaning of
the sounds of firing he had heard.
"The soldiers were honourably shooting at a Russian," replied the man.
"Did he have his lance?" asked the Chinaman instantly.
"No; but a pistol."
"You are sure he was not a Japanese dressed in Russian clothes?"
"Yes; he was tall, his cheeks were red, his eyes were blue, his hair the
colour of ripe corn; there is no doubt at all that he was a red-haired
barbarian."
The merchant spoke a few words to his servant; then both remounted, and
set off as fast as their Lilliputian steeds could carry them after the
departed Cossack.
Bob meanwhile had been hastening on. During the day his horse had had
nearly five hours' rest, and after its good meal was again comparatively
fresh. Scrambling over the hills, in no little danger of coming to
grief in the darkness, he at length struck the beaten track over the
snow that alone marked the course of the high-road. It rang hard under
the horse's hoofs; much heavy sled traffic must have passed over it--no
doubt supplies for the Russian cavalry, scattered over the whole of
Northern Korea. All the way as he rode, Bob was alert to catch any
sound of approaching troops, but the highway was deserted; he met
neither man nor beast. After covering about ten miles he thought it
best to leave the road and strike off into the hills on his left, with
the object of skirting round Seng-cheng, which he felt sure was occupied
by a Russian force, large or small. Choosing a spot where the highway
edged a clump of wood, he rode some yards among the trunks, dismounted,
and then carefully smoothed over his horse's tracks on the snow, leaving
no track himself by retreating in the hoof-marks. Then he plunged
deeper into the wood, in a direction at right angles to the road,
leading his horse in order to avoid collision with the trees, and hoping
by and by to reach some woodman's hut where he might safely pass the
rest of the night. A faint moonlight began to shine through the
leafless skeletons, assisting his progress. After half an hour he came
suddenly upon a somewhat extensive clearing, in the midst of which he
saw a small cluster of huts similar to those he had left behind. He was
about to turn sharply off to avoid them, when something in their
appearance struck him as unusual. Leaving his horse, he advanced
cautiously, and found that the huts were deserted and in ruins; the
blackened thatch and mud told a tale of burning, and Bob surmised that
here was evidence of a Cossack raid. After a little search he found a
hovel that had suffered less than the rest. He easily broke a way
through its wall for the horse, returned and led the animal in,
barricaded the opening with debris from the other huts, and made himself
as comfortable as he could by means of the cloak and horsecloths rolled
up before and behind the saddle. Then, being by this time dead beat, he
soon fell asleep.
Just as dawn was breaking, he was startled from his heaviness by the
loud snorting of his horse. Springing up on his elbow, he saw in the
wan light the animal, its ears thrown back, its eyes protruding, tugging
at the reins by which Bob had secured it to one of the beams supporting
the roof. It was panting, trembling, frantic with fear. Wide awake in
an instant, Bob reached for the case containing his rifle, which he had
worn slung over his shoulder and removed on lying down. Even as he did
so the faint light filtering through the loosely-barricaded doorway was
obscured. There was a thump and the crash of falling woodwork, and a
heavy body, in the suddenness of its onset looking even larger than it
was, sprang between him and the horse. A shrill scream of fright,
followed instantly by a dull thud, then a deep growl, and Bob, though he
had never heard it before, was in no doubt what the sound implied: it
was the warning growl of a tiger after a kill. Stretched upon the
inanimate horse, he saw in the uncertain light a huge tawny form. Its
back was towards him; its tail was lashing the ground within a few feet
of where he had lain; in a moment it must scent him. To gain the door,
even had there been any prospect of safety in flight, he would have to
pass immediately behind the brute, which at the sound would turn in far
less time than he would take to rush past. The beast was still growling
and lashing the floor. Bob remained still as death, in the reclining
posture in which the tiger's entrance had surprised him. In a flash he
saw that his only chance lay in one shot so well aimed as to kill or
maim the brute; if he missed, nothing could save him; yet the slightest
click or rustle would not escape its sensitive ears. Even as he raised
the rifle to his shoulder with all his care, the tiger heard the
movement and half-turned its head. But its head was still too much
covered by the length of its body for Bob to risk a shot at its brain,
and he knew that in the sudden volte-face that was now bound to come the
movement would be so rapid that he might very easily miss. Instantly
leaning forward, he brought the muzzle of the rifle within a foot of the
animal's body at the region of the heart, and fired. There was a scream
of rage, a convulsive twist of the huge body, a leap, and Bob was on the
floor, beneath the tiger, unconscious.
*CHAPTER X*
*The One-Eared Man*
Mr. Helping-to-decide on Tour--Watched--The Tragedy of the Topknot--A
Vampire--Mr. Helping-to-decide at Home--An Unholy
Alliance--Cross-Examined
"How do you do, sir? I trust you enjoy excellent health and spirits."
These were the first words Bob heard when he came to himself. He was
surrounded by a group of Korean soldiers, about whom there was nothing
martial but the blood-red band in their hats. In the centre, just
alighted from a palanquin, was a Korean in long white cloak and a hat
like an inverted flower-pot; he was bowing and smiling with a mingled
expression of amiability and concern. Bob recognized him in a moment;
it was Mr. Helping-to-decide.
"Thank you, I'm rather shaky," said Bob looking round. "What has become
of that brute?"
"Outside, sir. You stop horses; you stop tigers too. You kill him stone
dead, sir."
"Did I really? The last I remember is an uneasy idea that the tiger was
going to kill me. D'you mind giving me your hand. I feel rather giddy
and battered."
With Mr. Helping-to-decide's eager assistance he rose to his feet and
staggered out of the hut. There lay the tiger, a fine animal nearly
twelve feet long. Beside it was the horse, whose skull had been broken
by a single blow from the tiger's massive paw.
"I wonder I escaped," said Bob.
"A good, a famous shot, sir," said the Korean; "but you have a scratch,
an abrasion, on your nob just where your hair begins."
"Have I? I am lucky it is no worse. But how is it I have the pleasure
of seeing you here, sir?"
Then Mr. Helping-to-decide explained that he was on the way to his
country house some fifteen miles distant. He had been sent by his
government to watch the Russians at Seng-cheng, and had gone into the
town with the full determination to let nothing escape his attention.
But the Russians objected to being watched. They peremptorily ordered
him out of their lines, and compelled him to disband his troops,
allowing him to retain only the small escort which Bob saw with him. He
was following his wife and family, who had preceded him along the road,
when the sound of a shot had arrested his progress, and on searching he
had found the tiger in the throes of death, and underneath it the
inanimate form of the man to whom he owed eternal gratitude. If only he
had been a little earlier he might have killed the tiger before it made
its spring, and so have saved his honourable benefactor the bruises he
was sure he bore on his body and the cut he saw on his head. Still, he
hoped that he might some day have an opportunity of doing something in
return for the Englishman's condescending kindness.
It was now several years since Mr. Helping-to-decide had eaten his
dinners at Lincoln's Inn, but he spoke with extreme volubility, and was
seldom at a loss for a word. Law lecturers, London landladies,
leader-writers and cabmen had all assisted to form his style.
"Many thanks," said Bob. "Really you are too kind. I am very glad to
have met you, as, knowing the country, you may be able to assist me to
escape."
"Certainly, sir, with the greatest pleasure. If you will come with me,
no wild beasts will dare to molest you."
"I wasn't thinking of wild beasts," said Bob with a smile. "I was
thinking of Russians. The Cossacks are after me."
An instantaneous change took place in the expression of Mr.
Helping-to-decide's features. He glanced round with a quick movement
like that of a startled hare, and peered among the trees as though
expecting to find a Cossack behind every one of them.
"I don't think they are here just now," added Bob, repressing a smile.
He proceeded to give an account of the circumstances that had brought
him to that spot, the Korean listening with gathering apprehension.
"This is a most astounding fix," he said. "The Russians are very
hostile, very unkind. They are on all sides" (he made a wide sweep with
his arm); "they will find you, and then, hon'ble sir, what in the name
of goodness will you do? You are more than a match for a horse, you
have considerable facility with tigers, but with a Russian--ah! that is
ultra vires. Why, would you believe it?--they treat me, who help to
decide in the War Department of his Imperial Majesty--they treat even me
as if I were a dog! It is a jolly astounding fix!"
The little man looked so sincerely perturbed that Bob made an effort to
keep a grave face.
"It is very kind of you," he said, "to feel so much anxiety on my
account. After a short rest I shall be well enough to push on. I shall
have to do so on foot, unless one of your men will sell me his horse. I
could give him a bill on Yokohama."
"On no account whatever, hon'ble sir. I am still head over ears in your
debt. Do I not owe to you preservation of my better half? Yes, by gum!
Now, sir, if you will do me the honour to ride in my insignificant
conveyance, I will have you transported to my humble roof, where the
weary are at rest, and we can there enjoy sweet converse about via media
in these awkward circs."
Bob did not much relish the idea of proceeding over the roads cooped up
in the narrow space of a palanquin carried by coolies, but the Korean's
anxiety that he should keep out of sight was so evident that he decided
to accept the offer. He returned to the hut to fetch the Cossack's cap,
cloak, and rifle, and his own glass, but when he reappeared with them,
Mr. Helping-to-decide again looked startled and begged him to leave them
behind. Bob yielded, except as to the glass. A Korean cap was found
among the official's belongings, and with this perched on his head Bob
crept into the palanquin, prepared to endure an uncomfortable journey.
Just as the party was about to move off, one of the escort approached
Mr. Helping-to-decide, and, first humbly kow-towing, said something in a
tone of supplication. The functionary explained. The men would like the
horse; would he allow them to cut up the animal? Bob declared that he
had no objection whatever; whereupon Mr. Helping-to-decide told the men
that they might have the horse if they first skinned the tiger. A dozen
men at once set to work, and in half an hour the double operation was
performed; the dismembered horse was distributed among the escort, the
tiger's skin was entrusted to the head coolie, and after this long delay
the party resumed their northward journey.
As they left the group of huts, no one noticed two Chinamen crouching in
a ruined cabin, within a few feet of Bob and Mr. Helping-to-decide.
They had seen and heard all that passed since the arrival of the
Koreans. When the party had finally departed, the Chinamen left their
place of concealment, struck through the trees in a north-westerly
direction, and presently reappearing on their little ponies, made off
towards the Ping-yang road.
Mr. Helping-to-decide rode by the side of the palanquin, the top of
which was lifted up, and showed himself anxious to keep up his guest's
spirits by a never-ceasing flow of conversation, to which Bob listened
with a fearful joy. He explained that the Koreans were deeply interested
in the result of the war, for it appeared inevitable that the country
must come under the dominating influence either of Russia or of Japan.
They would rather have neither, but if it must be one or the other, they
preferred Japan to Russia. But there was one particular grudge they had
against Japan. It was due to Japanese influence that the Emperor of
Korea, some years before, had decreed the abolition of the topknot and
plunged the whole nation into despair.
"Dear me!" said Bob. "I should have thought it the other way about.
The cultivation of the topknot must give you a good deal of trouble."
"Ah! You are a barbarian--excuse me, a foreigner; you do not
understand. How should you? In your country what do they do to a man
when he is grown up and becomes married?"
"I don't know that they do anything--except send in tax-papers, and that
sort of thing."
"Well, in my country we wear cranial ornament--topknot to wit. In Korea
the topknot is a sine qua non; without it a Korean has no locus standi:
he is a vulgar fraction--of no importance. Let me inform you, hon'ble
sir, a gray-beard, though of respectable antiquity, if minus a topknot,
is to all intents and purposes a baby-in-arms. That is our Korean
custom. Now, hon'ble sir, can you imagine our unutterable
consternation, perturbation of spirit, nervous prostration, when an
Imperial decree issues--every conjugal Korean's topknot shall be
abbreviated, cut off instanter! There is dire tribulation, sore
perplexity. All Korea plumps into the depths of despair. Besides, it is
the height of absurdity. How, hon'ble sir, shall distinction henceforth
be drawn between celibate irresponsible and self-respecting citizen with
hostages to fortune? That is what we ask ourselves, and echo answers,
how? I pause for a reply."
Bob, chuckling inwardly at Mr. Helping-to-decide's wonderful command of
the English tongue, looked sympathetic, and said:
"It was very awkward certainly. But what happened?"
"At promulgation of decree I was residing at my eligible country house.
By gum, I think, such humiliating necessity cannot embrace the
Cham-Wi--hon'ble helping-to-discuss in his Majesty's War Office. Perish
the thought! But, hon'ble sir, stern duty calls me to metropolitan city.
I arrive at the outer gate. Lo! I am arrested, I the Cham-Wi, by
guardian of the peace--copper, who stands outside with huge shears
ferociously brandished. I make myself scarce--bunk. Alas! vain hope: a
brawny arm seizes me from behind; one, two, the deed is done; my
topknot--where is it? It is beyond recall. I am dishonoured. Behold
me on my beam ends!"
The recollection moved Mr. Helping-to-decide almost to tears. Having
recovered, he went on to explain that a domestic revolution soon
afterwards removed the emperor from the influence of his evil advisers.
The decree was abrogated; and since then the Koreans had cultivated
topknots anew, and had again become honourable men.
In spite of this bad business of the topknot, Mr. Helping-to-decide was
quite emphatic in his preference of the Japanese to the Russians, and he
was glad to know of the successes of the former at Port Arthur. He was
able to give Bob some information about the progress they were making in
Korea. Their armies now stretched in a long front of some fifty miles,
and were only waiting for the break-up of the ice to press forward to
the Yalu. Between their present position and Wiju there were five rivers
in all, which would require to be bridged, but this would give little
trouble to the Japanese engineers, who were exceedingly quick and
capable. They had also exact information of the Russian dispositions.
Many Japanese, disguised as Chinese or Koreans, were constantly moving
in and out among the Russians, carrying their lives in their hands.
Several had been caught and shot, but more had escaped detection and
brought valuable information to their generals. The Russians were
doubly incensed at this because they were unable to play the same game.
While the Japanese were perfectly at home in the country, and were
moreover very skilful in disguising themselves, no Russian could easily
pass for a Chinaman or a Korean, for even if his physique were not
against him, his ignorance of the languages would prove a serious
drawback.
"That makes me wonder what I am to do," said Bob. "I want to reach the
Japanese lines, and the disadvantages of the Russian are disadvantages
in my case also."
"You must come to my house; we will disguise you,--make you look quite
the lady. Then you can ride in a palanquin to the south, and I will
send trusty men to guide you and bring you o.k. to the Japanese."
Bob was not enamoured of the suggestion, and hoped that some other means
would offer. Meanwhile, having no alternative to suggest, he said
nothing.
Twelve miles of the journey had been accomplished, at a terribly slow
pace, and three more remained to be covered, when an old and
weather-beaten Korean riding a pony appeared rounding the shoulder of a
hill not far ahead. He quickened his pace when he saw the cavalcade,
and on meeting Mr. Helping-to-decide entered into grave conversation
with him. Bob, watching the functionary's face, saw its expression
become more and more agitated and alarmed. He came at length to the
palanquin, and explained that the rider was the sergeant in charge of
the village they were approaching, and had come to report that during
the past few days a notorious Manchu brigand, in Russian pay, had been
raiding within ten miles of the village under pretence of reconnoitring.
He was a man whom the people had long had reason to dread. During the
war in 1894 he had committed terrible atrocities in Northern Korea, and
had since infested the upper reaches of the Yalu with a band of
desperadoes, terrorizing a district several hundred square miles in
extent. His head-quarters were supposed to be in a mountain fastness
some distance beyond the Yalu. Before the outbreak of the present war
the Russians had more than once attempted to extirpate his gang, but he
had always proved too clever for them. They had now come to terms with
him, and were utilizing his great knowledge of the country and his
undoubted genius for leadership. He was a most accomplished linguist,
speaking every dialect of the Korean-Manchurian borderland, besides
having a good knowledge of Japanese, a smattering of Russian, and a
certain command of pidgin English. In his early youth he had been a
trader on the Chinese coast, but it having been discovered that he was
in league with pirates, he had suddenly disappeared, being next heard of
as ringleader of his desperate band of brigands. He was utterly
unscrupulous, and the fact that he was now acting with the Russians only
increased the gravity of the news that he was in the neighbourhood of
Mr. Helping-to-decide's home.
The Korean was much depressed during the remainder of the journey, and
spoke but little. He cheered up, however, when the village at length
came in sight. It was evening; only women were to be seen in the
street, for it is the Korean custom for the men to remain indoors after
nightfall, and leave the streets free for their women folk. Mr.
Helping-to-decide rode through the village till he came to the only
house of stones and tiles which it contained, where, dismounting, he
politely invited the honourable sir to deign to enter his contemptible
abode. Bob was very glad to stretch his limbs after many hours in the
palanquin, and, slipping off his boots at the door, found himself for
the first time an inmate of a Korean house of the better sort.
He could not help comparing it unfavourably with the Japanese interior
he had found so pleasant at Nikko. There was a striking lack of the
simple grace of Kobo's house. The room to which his host led him was
small and bare. The tiled roof was supported on a thick beam running
the whole length of the house. In place of the spotless mats of Kobo's
rooms there was a dirty leopard-skin and an expanse of yellowish
oil-paper covering the whole floor. The walls were of mud and plaster,
with sliding lattices covered with tissue-paper that also appeared to
have been well oiled. One or two jars and a lacquer box completed the
furniture.
He saw nothing of Mrs. Helping-to-decide. The evening meal was shared
by himself and his host alone. The food brought in by the female
servants was sufficient for a much larger company. It consisted first
of all of some questionable sweetmeats; these were followed by raw fish,
underdone pork chops, rice in various forms, radishes of gigantic size,
and fruit, including dried apples and very tough and indigestible
persimmons. Bob knew that he would be regarded as impolite if he
refused to partake of all these dishes. He did his best, but found it
difficult to swallow anything but the rice, in the cooking of which the
Korean excels. His poor trencher-work was, however, put to shame by Mr.
Helping-to-decide himself, who disposed of course after course with a
gusto which would have amazed his visitor had he not heard extraordinary
stories of the capacity of the Koreans in this respect. When the meal
was over, Bob was not surprised to see his host fall asleep, and being
thus left to his own resources, he rolled himself up in his cloak and a
silk coverlet provided by one of the maids, and made himself as
comfortable as possible on the floor.
He passed a most uneasy night. He had not been long asleep when he half
woke with the feeling that his right side was scorching. He turned over
sleepily, only to find by and by that the left side was even hotter than
the right had been. Whatever position he chose, he could not escape
this totally unnecessary heat, which, combined with the unpleasant odour
from the oiled-paper carpet, made him wish he could go back to the cold
ruined hut in which he had spent the previous night. The explanation
was, that beneath the floor was a cellar in which a fire had been lit,
and the coolie had piled on enough fuel to last through the night. This
was a simple means of heating the house, but Bob could not help
wondering whether a refrigerator would not perhaps form a more
satisfactory bed-chamber than an oven.
He was glad when morning came, and Mr. Helping-to-decide, awaking from
his heavy sleep, had sufficiently regained his senses to discuss ways
and means. It soon appeared that the trusty Korean servant who was to
have assisted Bob towards the Japanese lines was absent, having gone to
keep a watch on the Manchu brigands. Mr. Helping-to-decide accordingly
proposed that Bob should remain with him until the man returned, and
impressed upon him the advisability of keeping within doors in order not
to attract attention. Bob was by no means pleased at the prospect of
spending even one day within these close walls, but seeing no help for
it he submitted with a good grace.
It was a dreary time. During the morning he was left to himself, and to
while away the hours he found nothing better to do than to look out,
through a slit in one of the tissued lattices, at what went on in the
street. But after the mid-day meal, Mr. Helping-to-decide proposed a
game of "go", which Bob knew from previous experience might be spun out
to any length. They were in the midst of the game, when there was a
great shouting and hurry-scurry in the street; then the clatter of
galloping horses. Mr. Helping-to-decide sprang up in agitation, and Bob,
going to his slit, saw a troop of Cossacks headed by a tall Manchu
galloping up the street, followed by a band of riders, whom from their
features and habiliments he concluded to be Manchu bandits. Mr.
Helping-to-decide stood in quivering helplessness. The horsemen reined
up before his house; some of them went round it in both directions, and
the terrified owner turned his white face to Bob and groaned.
When the house was surrounded, the commander of the Cossacks shouted
something which neither Bob nor the Korean understood. But the cry was
immediately repeated in the vernacular by the tall Manchu; he had
dismounted and was approaching the house with the apparent intention of
forcing an entrance through the sliding lattice.
"What does he say?" asked Bob.
"He says, hon'ble sir, 'Bring out the spy'," faltered Mr.
Helping-to-decide. "This is indeed a critical moment. I am at a
loss--flabbergasted. I am driven to conclusion it is all u.p."
The Manchu had now come to the wall of the house, and bellowed what was
evidently a threatening message.
"'If the spy is not brought out instanter,'" translated Mr.
Helping-to-decide, "'he will conflagrate this residence and adjacent
village, with incidental murder of inhabitants.'"
Mr. Helping-to-decide wrung his hands in impotent despair.
"I shall give myself up," said Bob.
His host's agitation at once gave place to polite admiration and a show
of confidence at which Bob almost laughed. He recognized that it was no
laughing matter. The ruined state of the hamlet in which he had met the
tiger was clear evidence that the invader's threat was no empty one, and
the tales he had heard of the Cossacks' brutality did not promise a
pleasant experience to any prisoner who fell into their power. But Bob
felt that he had no alternative. There was just a hope that as a
British subject he would come off with a whole skin, but in any case it
was impossible to let the whole village suffer through any weakness of
his. He therefore pulled aside the lattice, stepped out, and with a
bold bearing that ill-matched his inward quaking, delivered himself up
to the enemy.
The Cossack captain sat his horse side by side with the Manchu a few
paces in advance of his troop. As Bob approached, amid perfect silence,
he noticed that the Manchu leant quickly forward and peered at him with
an interest greater than the circumstances seemed to warrant. Something
in the man's face was familiar to Bob, who, as the Manchu turned half
round to speak to the Russian officer, saw that he had only one ear. He
remembered him clearly now. He was the man who had been saved from
drowning by the _Sardinia_,--the man from whom Bob himself had saved
Kobo's half-throttled servant Taru in the Ueno Park. It was Kobo's old
enemy, the Manchu Tartar, Chang-Wo. The discovery did not tend to
reassure Bob, but for all his tremors at the dangerous possibilities of
the situation, he knew that his only chance was to maintain an air of
utter fearlessness, and no one could have guessed from his undaunted
attitude that he felt he was in a very tight place.
The Cossack captain looked hard at him for a moment, then gruffly
addressed him, presumably in Russian.
Bob shook his head, saying, in the best French he could command, that he
was sorry he was not familiar with the Russian tongue. To his surprise,
the Cossack did not understand him. Bob had believed that every
educated Russian knew French, and such ignorance seemed to prove this
officer a boor.
"So much the worse for me," thought Bob.
The Cossack said a few words to the Manchu, who bent over and began a
catechism in pidgin English, interpreting each answer as he received it
to the Russian. Bob was surprised: on board the _Sardinia_ the man had
professed to know no English. He had some difficulty at first in
understanding the strange idiom, but the general purport of Chang-Wo's
questions was clear.
"What-side belongey?"
"I am a British subject."
"What you pidgin?"
"I am in the Japanese service."
"What-for you Japan-side?"
Bob hesitated. It was not likely that the Manchu would know what a
range-finder was. He made an attempt to explain, but the
circumlocutions he had to use aroused the Manchu's suspicion, and he
interrupted impatiently:
"What you hab catchee in Korea?"
"I was left behind."
"What pidgin makee you hab got behind-side?"
"It was my bad luck--an accident."
"What-tim' you hab catchee accident?"
"Three days ago."
"What-side?"
"Near Yongampo."
"Supposey you tellum allo 'bout it?"
"Well, I got mixed up in a fight between Cossacks and Japanese, and I
was bowled over."
"Bowled over! What that say?"
"Hit, tumbled on the ground: savvy?"
"How hab got wailo?"
"On a horse."
"How horso belongey you?"
"Caught it."
"What-side horso this-tim'?"
"Dead."
"You come this-side sampan?"
"In a ship."
"What callum ship?'
"That I can't tell you."
"No savvy?"
"Oh yes, I know; but I can't say."
"What-for no tellum?"
"Because I'm in the Japanese service."
"What namee Japanese that-tim' Yongampo?"
"What do you mean?"
"Japanese belongey you come Yongampo. He namee--what?"
"I can't tell you that."
"What-for no tellum?"
"For the same reason as before."
"Muss tellum--velly soon."
"Very sorry; it's quite impossible."
"You belongey too muchee sassy. You no tellum, my hab got whip."
Bob gave him a look, but said nothing. The Manchu raised his whip and
dealt him a sharp blow with the stock, which struck his shoulder, only
escaping his head because he swerved suddenly aside as he saw it coming.
The next moment the Manchu lay sprawling on the ground. Bob had sprung
at him and hit him so heavily and unexpectedly beneath the jaw that he
lost his balance and fell backwards over his horse's haunches. He
picked himself up, and drawing his sword rushed at Bob, who stood with
flaming eyes and clenched fists ready to defend himself. But the
Cossack officer moved his horse a pace or two forward and interposed.
He spoke a few rapid words to the Manchu, saying in effect that the
prisoner was too valuable to be killed in a fit of temper; information
could no doubt be got out of him in course of time; and meanwhile he
should have a foretaste of the discipline awaiting him.
The Manchu gave way with a sullen scowl, and remounted his horse. Then
the captain gave an order; a trooper dismounted, and came towards Bob
with a narrow leather thong in his hand. Bob instantly guessed what was
to be done, and seeing the utter vanity of resistance, he submitted
quietly, while the thong was firmly bound about his right wrist and then
knotted to the near stirrup of the captain's horse. Another order was
then given; the whole troop set off at a trot down the deserted street,
and as Bob was dragged by the side of the horse, the last object he
remembered seeing was the pale, terror-stricken face of Mr.
Helping-to-decide peeping through the broken lattice of his house.
*CHAPTER XI*
*Tried and Sentenced*