IN A TYPHOON
"Time is growing short," said Jack one morning in August, "and we have
not seen the Inland Sea nor Kobe nor have we climbed Fuji."
"There is a Japanese proverb which says that there are two kinds of
fools," remarked Nan; "one has never climbed Fujisan and the other has
climbed it twice."
"Set me down for the first kind," said Jean, "for I don't intend to do
any such fool trick as to climb a mountain nearly thirteen thousand
feet high."
"If we are going to do a lot of other things, I don't see how any of
us are to undertake that stunt," said Eleanor. "I vote we pick out the
things we cannot reasonably pass over and then take the leavings as we
can."
"Good girl," cried Jack. "That is the ticket. Tell us, Nan, oh,
honorable lady of the guide-book, what is it up to us to see?"
Nan spread out her map, propped her two elbows on the table before her
and began making investigations while the others chattered away about
Fuji, Lake Biwa and other things that had lately interested them.
"I wish I could remember all the stories about Fuji," said Jean looking
at her neat note-book. "I know that Biwa is called the Lake of the Lute
on account of its shape. There is a legend that tells of its having
been formed by the sun-goddess at the time of a great earthquake. The
rice-fields of the poor people were all destroyed but in their stead
was seen this lake full of fish."
"It was at the same time that Fujisan was formed," Mary Lee went on
with the tale. "It has so many pretty poetical names; one is the
Mountain of the White Lotus, because it rises, all snowy white, from
out the stagnant fields at its base."
"And Japan is called the 'Islands of the Dragon-Fly,'" put in Eleanor;
"I wonder why."
"There is a story of that, too," said Jean. "I have it somewhere in my
note-book. It was when the god Izanami shook from his spear bits of
sand and mud that stayed among the reeds of a watery place and became
dry land. It was in the form of a dragon-fly that the dry part spread
out and so the god called it the Land of the Dragon-Fly."
"Fuji is called the Holy White Mountain, too," put in Jack.
Here Nan looked up. "I think I have puzzled it out," she announced;
"we can go from here to Osake, and then to Kobe. We must see Miyajima
and Sakusa; they are so interesting. There is a great _tori-i_ at
Miyajima which is fine. They say the beauty of the Inland Sea is beyond
anything, so we can stop along its shores and get to Nagasaki in time
to sail when we have planned to."
"What is at Susaki, or whatever the name is?" inquired Eleanor.
"It is Sakusa, and it is not very far from Matsue; we ought to go to
Matsue, for it is a very old and very interesting city. We could go to
Kitzuki from there. Let me see how it would work out." She turned again
to her map. "From here to Kobe and then to Matsue. I think we could
manage it, but there would be some cross-country going. It would make
a tremendously interesting trip. I will see what Aunt Helen says. For
my own part I should like the cross-country trip, but perhaps mother
wouldn't."
"She might take an easier route and one of us could stay with her,"
suggested Mary Lee.
"I would be perfectly willing to," spoke up Jean, who loved her ease
and was not so keen for variety as to sacrifice comfort to it.
"I don't care a rap about those old stuffy places. Just because they
are old doesn't recommend them to me. I would really rather stay in
a pleasant bright city and go about in a 'riky when I want to see
anything."
"Very well, that lets us out," remarked Jack. "I am in for anything,
Nan, the wilder and queerer, the better."
"So am I," responded Eleanor.
"Me, too," put in Mary Lee.
"Then if Aunt Helen will go, we shall be all right," rejoined Nan
closing her book with satisfaction.
As a result of all this, Kyoto was left behind and the party turned
toward the south. At Kobe they left Jean and her mother while the rest
went on to the marvelous temples at Nara, then back to pick up Mrs.
Corner and Jean and to travel on along the shores of the beautiful
Inland Sea to arrive at last at the sacred island of Miyajima, where
a wonderful _tori-i_ rising out of the water appeared mysterious and
strangely picturesque under a sunset sky. A little further on, they
left Jean and her mother, the others taking the trip across country to
the ancient city of Matsue.
"Well, it was something of a jaunt, but I don't believe we shall regret
it," said Nan looking from her window upon a fair lake and a range of
mountain peaks which made a background for the queer old town. "I am
crazy for a short turn about the place, a view of Daisen, which they
say is much like Fuji."
"You certainly are enterprising, Nan," said her aunt. "Aren't you
tired?"
"A little, but not so much but I can walk more. The city looks quite
flat, Aunt Helen, but the hills beyond are beautiful. It was a feudal
stronghold until quite modern times and it must still show remnants of
its use-to-be-ness. There are three special quarters, the shopkeeping
part, the temple and the residence section. There is a great castle,
too, about which there are the grimmest kinds of legends. There are
ever and ever so many temples. I wonder if we shall have time to see
them all."
"Not if we do all the other things your energetic mind has planned."
Miss Helen was quite right, for a fierce typhoon came sweeping up the
land that very night, and before it every one trembled and thanked
heaven to be under shelter. The day had been so depressingly hot as to
be most uncomfortable in the lowlands. By evening all were gasping for
breath and then came a queer sensation as if one were unsteadily trying
to keep his balance. The girls arose from their beds, groped their way
to one another and sat huddled together in Miss Helen's room to which
they went with one consent.
"Do you suppose it is an earthquake?" queried Eleanor shakily.
"I shouldn't be at all surprised," returned Miss Helen. "There!" As
she exclaimed, the whole house seemed to rock from side to side, then
came a sweep and rush of rain, a perfect deluge, which threatened to
engulf everybody and everything in its furious attack. There had been
much running back and forth before the storm broke. The wooden shutters
were secured, the doors bolted. There were weird sounds outside, gusts
that went shrieking up the hills, thunderous sounds of lashing waves
and roaring streams, heard once in a while between the dashing rain
which never ceased. At intervals was felt the alarming tremor which
made the girls all huddle closer together with white faces and nervous
clutchings of one another's hands.
"There is one thing," whispered Nan trying to be encouraging, "if we go
we shall all go together."
"But I wish mother and Jean were here," said Jack chokingly.
Mary Lee gave a convulsive sob, and Eleanor broke down completely. "I
wish I had never come," she wailed. "I wish I had stayed home with my
mother, and I wish Neal were here. Oh, dear, why did I come to this
dreadful place?"
"My dear children," spoke Miss Helen from her bed, "don't get
hysterical. I imagine the worst is over. Do try to calm yourselves. No
doubt they have had storms like this before and the house has stood,
as you see. It sounds dreadful, but I do not believe we shall have a
truly upheaving earthquake. Some slight unsettling always accompanies a
typhoon, I have been told."
"Do you think this is a typhoon?" asked Eleanor trying to stop her
tears.
"I imagine so; it seems very like the descriptions of such storms as I
have read about."
"I verily do believe it is not quite so furious," remarked Nan.
"But we can't be sure." Eleanor was still apprehensive. "I could never
go to bed this night."
"Nor I," came from one and another.
They all sat in silence till Jack spoke. "I wonder if poor little Toku
is all right. I expect he is scared to death," she said mournfully.
Eleanor giggled hysterically. "I don't believe he knows anything about
it. He is probably sleeping the sleep of the innocent," she said.
Somehow Jack's remark relieved the tension, and, as it was evident that
the gale was less violent, they all began to be more cheerful though
there was no sleep for any of them that night. At last only the lashing
waves and the rush of water along the streets remained of the noises of
earth and sky, and by daylight the girls crept back to their beds to
sleep uneasily till it was time to get up.
The typhoon had left its mark behind in the overthrow of trees and the
snapping of wires, the tearing down of signs and the wrenching off of
roofs. Later on came accounts of damage in the hills, of the washing
away of bridges and the complete demolition of paths.
"So we shall have to give up Kitzuki altogether," Nan announced after
an interview with the proprietor of the hotel. "It would not be safe,
they say. But it is not so very far to Sakusa, and if we wait long
enough we may be able to get there, though we shall have to walk even
then."
"You don't catch this child walking." Jack spoke with decision.
"Well, we don't want to go to-day anyhow," Nan answered, "and as it is
pretty bad everywhere after the storm we'd better just hold our horses
till we can decide what is best. There are enough excursions to satisfy
us, probably, though I am awfully disappointed not to go to Kitzuki."
"What is its particular vanity?" inquired Eleanor.
"It is first of all a very holy place, according to Japanese creeds,
then it is a very fashionable seaside resort."
"The latter appeals to me more strongly than the former," Eleanor
declared, "but I can resign myself to leaving it out of our itinerary
if there are any dangers. What is this Sakusa that you are so keen
about?"
Nan hesitated before she answered. "There are some interesting
ceremonies take place there, and there is a temple."
"A temple!" said Eleanor scornfully. "I have seen temples till I am
worn out with them. What are the ceremonies?"
"I know," spoke up Jack as Nan again hesitated. "I have been reading
up. Sakusa is the place where lovers make a pilgrimage and tie wishes
on the trees. The wishes are supposed to come true and there are queer
charms sold there and all sorts of funny doings."
"Oh!" Eleanor gave Nan a swift look, which Nan, seeing, resented.
"Oh, I am not so very anxious about it," she said nonchalantly, "though
I think those odd customs are always interesting to see. If you all
don't care about going or if there is anywhere else you prefer, why
just let us leave it out."
"I am crazy to go," said Eleanor. "I suppose we can join any band
of pilgrims that we see going up and down the breadth of the land.
They really have a pretty good time of it, I fancy. The old folks
particularly. I haven't a doubt but some of those old ladies get no
other outing; you always see them moseying along as cheerful as the
next, although they may have walked far and have not had much to
sustain them on the way. You get up the excursion, Nan, and we will be
your happy band of pilgrims."
"I'm going out to see what it looks like after the storm," announced
Jack. "Come along, any one who wants to go."
Mary Lee and Eleanor decided to accept this invitation and Nan was left
to her guide-books. "You'd better join us," were their parting words.
"Tell me where you are going and perhaps I will come and hunt you up,"
returned Nan.
"We shall go to the great bridge," Jack told her. "It is always
interesting there."
So they passed out and it was a couple of hours before they returned.
In the meantime Nan had occupied herself in various ways, but had
found no time to go to the bridge to meet the others. They came in
hilarious from their walk.
"Why didn't you come, Nan?" asked Eleanor. "We waited for you ever so
long. Neal wanted to come back for you but Jack said he might miss you,
as you would probably be on your way."
"Neal!" Nan looked up startled. Then she recovered herself. "Oh, your
brother," she said with too great a show of indifference. "What is he
doing here?"
"He came to see if we were all alive after the typhoon. The papers
reported a great deal of damage in this part of the country and so he
rushed over to see whether we were sound in life and limb."
"And where is he now?" inquired Miss Helen, to Nan's relief asking the
question she would have put but for a self-consciousness she could not
overcome.
"Oh, he has gone off with Jack. She is showing him the town, but we
were tired and wouldn't go."
Gone off with Jack, very willingly of course, thought Nan. He was so
little eager to see her that he had not even returned for a moment's
greeting. She wondered how many letters Jack had received from him
during this interval, and again she began to build up the altar of
sacrifice upon which she would lay her heart. "Was it worth while going
out to see the havoc?" she asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Yes, it was rather interesting to see what was going
on down by the wharves. We saw a good many funny things."
"Suppose we go, Aunt Helen," proposed Nan suddenly. "We have been
cooped up all morning and I have been reading about a little temple
of Jizo which they say is worth while. These others don't care about
temples, so we won't insist upon their going. What do you say?"
Miss Helen agreed to the proposition and they began to make ready.
"Aren't you going to stay for lunch?" queried Mary Lee.
"No, we will get something at a tea-house on the way," replied Nan, and
was off without further remark.
As Nan disappeared from view, Eleanor turned to Mary Lee. "Well," she
exclaimed, "what do you make out of that?"
Mary Lee shook her head. "It is beyond me. I really thought she cared,
but it looks as if she didn't. I wonder if, after all, she likes
Rob Powell. There may have been a misunderstanding or a quarrel or
something like that."
"Maybe, but I'll stake my best hat that she is in love with some one,
and I really did hope it was Neal. Do you suppose by any accident that
she has gone off in this way because she is jealous of Jack, is miffed
because Neal didn't come back with us?"
"She would have some reason to, it seems to me."
"It seems so to me, too. You don't suppose Jack has been putting
notions in Neal's head, do you?"
"What kind of notions?"
"Oh, making him think Nan has a single steady at home or something of
that kind."
"I am sure Jack wouldn't do it with any malicious intent, but she
may have done it inadvertently. You see we are rather in the dark
ourselves and cannot swear to anything. Nan is expansive enough about
some things, but she is the most elusive person when it comes to an
affair of the heart. I have been puzzled a score of times myself about
her. She gets very high-flown romantic ideas about sacrifice and all
that kind of thing, and if she took it into her head that Jack must be
interested in Neal she would go the whole length. I know she did have
some such fancy a while ago, but I said enough to disabuse her mind of
it, I thought."
"Well, I must talk to Neal," decided Eleanor.
"What will you tell him?"
"Goodness knows. What can I tell him? That Jack is fond of Carter and
that Nan is not pledged to any one?"
Mary Lee shook her head doubtfully.
"What we do must be done quickly," declared Eleanor. "Once you are all
out of this country, good-bye to Neal's chances."
"How long is he going to be here?"
"Don't know. I haven't had a chance to ask him. He can often stay till
he is recalled, but no one knows the hour or minute that may be. This
much is certain; he was certainly more interested in Nan than I have
ever known him to be in any one. He didn't say so in so many words,
but he said enough to make me sure of it, and I am convinced that he
wouldn't have been so eager for opportunities of getting her off to
herself if he hadn't been pretty far gone."
"Then why under the sun did he march off with Jack to-day without a
word with Nan?"
"That is where you have me, my child. There is something queer and
we have to find out. Suppose you tackle Jack and I will get at Neal.
Between us we may be able to find out the truth."
Mary Lee agreed to this, but her opportunity did not come that day nor
the next. Nan and Mr. Harding met with a polite greeting, much less
effusive than that which had passed between the young man and Jack
on his arrival. But for the furtive glances which he gave Nan, when
he thought no one was looking, Eleanor and Mary Lee would have been
convinced of his absolute indifference. Nan, herself, did not once look
his way unless compelled to.
"There is this about it," confessed Eleanor, when the two conspirators
got together. "They are entirely too deadly indifferent for it to be
altogether natural. It is my opinion they have quarreled. Have you
noticed how Neal watches Nan when he thinks no one is looking?"
"And how she never looks at him at all?" returned Mary Lee. "I have not
seen them exchange a dozen remarks since your brother came, and Nan
has scarcely mentioned him to me. When she has, it has been because I
dragged his name into the conversation."
"It is vastly more suspicious than if there were not this studied
ignoring the one of the other."
"Of course it is," agreed Mary Lee.
"Poor old Neal; I hate to have him unhappy," said Eleanor.
"Poor old Nan; I can't bear to have her unhappy."
They both laughed. Then Mary Lee exclaimed, "I have just thought of
something that makes me sure it is all on account of Jack and that Rob
isn't in it at all."
"Do tell me."
"Nan asked me a while ago upon a certain occasion, don't ask me when
it was, please, Nell, but she asked me then if I didn't think it was
almost as hard to give up one whom you loved to another as to have him
taken from you to another world. You know, Nell, I can't talk of such
things very much, and this was a sacred hour, but I thought I would
tell you."
Eleanor put her arm around her friend. "It is dear of you to tell me. I
understand, Mary Lee, and because it was a sacred hour you can be sure
that Nan spoke from the very depths of her heart."
"That is exactly it. It doesn't prove anything, but it meant more than
I realized at the time, of that we can be sure. Yes, we must get some
light on this subject and do it soon." Here Nan herself came into the
room and the girls, in a very lively manner, tried to appear as if they
had been talking over their days at college.
[Illustration: CHAPTER XVIII
JACK'S EYES ARE OPENED]