AN UNEXPECTED DESERTION.
No one can gain any adequate idea of the magnitude of the Empire of
China until he has journeyed up that great waterway, the Yang-tse-Kiang,
and observed the millions upon millions of natives that throng both the
river and its banks. For the first four hundred miles of its twisting,
serpentine course, the Yang-tse seems to wind through one successive
village, back of which the skilfully cultivated gardens and fields are
visible. The people as a rule seem peaceful and plodding; but we soon
discovered a deep-rooted antipathy for foreigners in their character
which induced them to regard us with scowling countenances or
mischievous jeers. Whenever we tied up at the river-bank they crowded
around to mock us and make faces at us like a pack of unruly schoolboys,
and we began to realize that we would be far from safe if we ventured
among them unprotected.
Our steamer was a wheezy little flat-bottomed affair, which in spite of
its awkward appearance breasted the stream energetically and made fairly
good time. It had been chartered especially for our party by Mai Lo, and
was to carry us as far as Ichang, where we were to take mules and
elephants to Kai-Nong.
Mai Lo was now a vastly different personage from the humble and
groveling attendant of Prince Kai whom we had first known. He boarded
the steamer at Shanghai clothed in gorgeous Chinese raiment of
embroidered silks and accompanied by a band of servitors from his own
province, whom he had picked up in the city. He was as silent and
undemonstrative as ever, but had assumed a new dignity of demeanor. His
commands were obeyed by all around him as readily as if he had been an
autocrat, or the Emperor himself, and whenever he spoke to any of our
party, which was but seldom, there was a suspicion of a sneer in his
harsh tones that was very annoying, although his words were so courteous
that we could not well find fault with them.
It mattered very little to Archie, Joe or myself that Mai Lo assumed
these airs, but the doctor was uneasy and discontented, and more than
once expressed regrets that we had been foolish enough to undertake such
a risky adventure. Yet he continued to perform the duties he had
undertaken in a brisk, businesslike manner. At least three or four times
in every twenty-four hours the doctor and I entered the little room
where the supposed body of the Prince had been placed in state,
surrounded by flags and decorations, and moistened the bandages with the
rum. We had brought with us three large demijohns of the liquor, which
Doctor Gaylord had labelled “poison,” so that we might continue the
farce until the end of our journey.
Mai Lo, however, no longer guarded the corpse of his Prince in the same
jealous manner as he had on board the _Seagull_. This might easily be
accounted for by the fact that now there was no danger that could menace
the dead. The Chinese have an intense reverence for a corpse, and would
not molest one under any circumstances.
“All the same,” said the doctor, gloomily, “I wish Mai Lo would take a
little more interest in the remains of Prince Kai. His indifference
makes me suspect that the crafty mandarin knows more than we give him
credit for.”
Our little party was accorded excellent treatment on this voyage, and we
had little to complain of. Our South Sea Islanders had nothing to do,
and received almost as much deference as ourselves from the Chinese
aboard the steamboat, who looked upon Nux and Bryonia with unfeigned
curiosity. Our blacks were as grave and dignified as judges, and
conducted themselves in their customary admirable manner. I believe they
had themselves been princes, or at least nobles, in the half-civilized
island from whence they had come, and certainly their conduct under
trying circumstances had always been such as to win my confidence.
We were eight days getting to Ichang, for the boat tied up at the bank
the greater part of each night, and resumed its journey at daybreak. The
Chinese boatmen have a horror of traveling by night, except those of the
pirate junks, who prefer the dark to cloak their movements. Sometimes,
of course, it is necessary to travel at night, and in consequence every
Chinese boat has an eye painted on each side of the bow so that the boat
can see where it is going in the dark and avoid running aground or into
the rocks.
Ichang we found to be another important and densely populated city, and
to my surprise there were several European travelers there. A regular
line of steamers runs between Ichang and Shanghai.
Doctor Gaylord met an old friend, a retired English officer, and seemed
overjoyed to see him, for they held a long and animated conversation
together that evening.
Mai Lo put us up at the best hotel, but the proprietor objected to
receiving the “remains” of Prince Kai, and so the casket was left on
board the steamer until we were ready to start—the next morning but one
after our arrival. This made it necessary for the doctor and me to make
trips to the boat from the hotel, since we dared not neglect any of the
useless but impressive duties we had assumed in caring for the dummy
corpse.
On the first of these excursions we were nearly mobbed by the natives;
but fortunately our entire band was together and Nux and Bryonia cleared
the way, using freely some stout lengths of bamboo.
So the rabble did not press us too closely, and on our following trips
to the boat they were careful not to interfere with us, although they
jeered and mocked “the foreign pigs.”
The attitude of the natives seemed to make the doctor very nervous; but
the others of us did not mind their silly actions, as it was evident
that we were feared as much as we were hated.
It appeared that Mai Lo had arranged for his caravan in advance—probably
by the Chinese Imperial Telegraph—so we were delayed only two days in
Ichang. The evening before we started Doctor Gaylord was again engaged
in earnest conversation with his tourist acquaintance, and when we left
him to go to bed—for we were to start at daybreak next morning—they were
still talking together.
Joe aroused me next morning while it was still dark, and told me that I
had barely time to dress and get my breakfast.
When the meal was finished—and Chinese breakfasts do not consume much
time—we all marched down to the river, from the banks of which the
caravan was to start.
There were three elephants and some twenty spindle-legged mules in the
convoy, and our escort consisted of Chinese warriors carefully selected
by Mai Lo.
The casket of Prince Kai was to ride in state upon one of the elephants,
and to be accompanied by the doctor and myself, as his assistant. The
doctor was late and had not yet arrived, so I personally directed the
removal of the casket from the cabin of the steamer and saw that it was
carefully loaded upon the elephant and secured just in front of the
howdah. The beast was profusely decorated with flags and streamers of
gay colors. The Chinese do not use black as mourning, and this was their
way of honoring the memory of the late Prince. Some of the flags were
embroidered with the regulation Earth Dragon, but others bore the figure
of the Sacred Ape, which was the especial emblem of the House of Kai.
The doctor had not yet arrived by the time the elephant was loaded, and
we began to be impatient. Mai Lo came to me to inquire why the noble
physician was delayed, but I could not tell him. Messengers were sent
back to the hotel, and in the meantime I watched two of the puffing,
flat-bottomed little river steamers leave the bank a few rods away and
begin a race down the river toward Shanghai. They had disappeared around
the bend of the river a full half hour when a native touched my shoulder
and stealthily handed me a soiled bit of crumpled paper.
I found it was a note from the doctor, and to my astonishment it read as
follows:
“I have thrown up the job and gone back to Shanghai. Too dangerous to
tackle. I advise you to follow my example. Life is worth more than you
can possibly gain.
“Gaylord.”
“So,” said a harsh voice beside me; “the noble physician has run away.”
I turned with a start to face Mai Lo, who had insolently read the note
over my shoulder.
“So it seems,” I answered, blankly.
“Run away!” exclaimed Joe and Archie, who were unable to comprehend this
desertion.
“Gone back to Shanghai,” I answered, handing them the paper.
“Will you follow his example?” asked Mai Lo, calmly. “I must know at
once, as we are ready to start.”
We three boys, confronted by this trying emergency, glanced into one
another’s eyes; but after exchanging this look I was prepared to answer
Mai Lo.
“We are going to Kai-Nong,” I said, with an air of unconcern. “Whenever
you are ready, we will begin the journey.”