A FAIRY HISTORY OF JAPAN.
The shop in which Ned had discovered the object of his search was well
down toward the water front, and the course of the sailor was now toward
the center of the city. The two passed the customs quarters and the
official offices of the city--Yokohama is the old-time treaty port of
Japan--and so on to wide streets lined with shops, still alight, though
the hour was getting late.
Such quaint little shops Ned had never seen before, and more than once
he stopped to look at lacquered ware of rare quality, bronze work, and
fancy embroidery. Directly the sailor led the way from the wide streets
to the old-time narrow ones in the native quarter, which were not far
from the old canal which virtually makes an island of the town.
After proceeding, with hesitating steps, down a particularly dark and
foul-smelling street, the sailor paused at a corner, glanced up at a
window in a tea-chest of a house which stood flush with the alley-like
thoroughfare, and began the ascent of a flight of stairs which swayed
under his weight.
On the corner below the tea-house was still open, and the invariable
graphophone was grinding out some indistinguishable tune. When the two
passed up the dark stairway an attendant slipped out of the public room,
walked to the foot of the stairs, and observed the two mounting figures.
When the sailor opened the door to as miserable a room as the sun of the
Orient ever shone on, the attendant slipped back to the public room and
conferred with a keen-eyed, slender man who sat there--a man garbed in
the native costume, but bearing in manner and face the stamp of a
European!
The sailor closed the door of his room and set a match to a candle which
he found on a shelf hanging to a wall. There was nothing in the room,
nothing but mats, as it seemed to Ned. There was no table, no chair.
Only the mats to sit on and sleep on. The walls were of paper, and Ned
saw with pleasure that the whole front of the room, which faced the
alley, might be rolled up at will!
The sailor dropped on the floor and fumbled in his clothing for a
cigarette.
"Have you got the makings?" he asked, giving up the search at last.
Ned shook his head.
"I have need of all my wits," he said, "and never befuddle my brain with
tobacco. It's the curse of the age."
"I've got to have a cigarette," the sailor said. "I'll go crazy if I
don't have one! I won't sleep a wink, either!" he whined.
Ned handed him a dime and pointed to the door.
"Go and buy some," he said, knowing that the fellow would be in fighting
mood if he was not supplied with the narcotic. "Come back here and
smoke."
The sailor looked at the dime sorrowfully, scorning the small piece of
silver because it wasn't a dollar, as Ned concluded--pitying himself,
too, because it would not buy what he wanted most--liquor!
Ned handed him a quarter and bade him hasten back. With the man's nerves
crying out for accustomed stimulants, the boy knew that he could do
nothing with him. He must get him into a companionable mood if possible.
He dreaded the night, which seemed about to be passed in the fumes of
tobacco and liquor, but there was no help for it that he could see.
Presently the sailor came back with a package of cigarettes, gin in a
bottle, and a jug of water. He arranged the articles in a half-circle
about him when he sat down on a mat. It seemed pitiful to the boy, the
sailor's dependence on the nerve-destroying things he looked upon as
necessary to his comfort. Only for these, only for their constant use
for years, the man might have been honored and respected and possessed a
home among his kind instead of being an object of contempt in a foreign
port.
"Here's to the Flowery Kingdom!" the sailor said, the bottle at his
lips. "Here's life to you, not existence! What's your name?" he added,
stopping in the midst of a grin which wrinkled his dissipated face
horribly to cast a glance of suspicion on the boy sitting in pity before
him. "My name," he added, without waiting for Ned to reply to his
question, "is Brown--B-R-O-W-N."
"Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Brown," Ned said. "One is always
glad to meet Americans in a place like this. Now," he went on, resolved
to have his talk out before the sailor became too befuddled to talk
coherently, "you spoke about wanting to get back to New York. Well, the
_Fultonia_ leaves for New York by way of Manila, to-morrow afternoon,
and I may be able to arrange a passage for you. I'm a friend of the
captain's."
"Not on your life! Not by way of Manila!" the sailor cried. "I wouldn't
go back to Manila for all the gold there is in Standard Oil! I'm going
to lose myself on a wind-jammer! Manila's unhealthy for me!" he added
with a wink.
"I wasn't thinking of remaining there," said Ned. "I'm going back to New
York."
"Wind-jammer for mine!" Brown insisted. "Why," he added, swinging his
bottle of gin in the air, "do you know that I'd like to get inside a
boat with wide white wings and sail about the Orient forever! The more I
mix with Englishmen and Americans the more I think of the Japs. It was
an American that threw me down to-night. I did something for him, and--"
The sailor paused, gave a slight shiver, and looked down at his right
hand. Then he brushed it, as if trying to wipe something away that was
obstinate and hard to get rid of--some stain like the stain of blood!
"And he left you stranded?" Ned continued "I'm glad I happened along,"
he added, not caring to say how glad he was, nor how much the meeting
might mean to him!
"I did his dirty work!" the sailor went on, his tongue loosened by the
liquor. "I did for him what I never did before, what I never will do
again! And he went back on me! He threw me down! I'd like to meet him on
Roosevelt street, New York! I'd provide against his throwing anyone else
down!"
"What did you do for him?" Ned asked, with as innocent a manner as he
could assume.
"That's my business!" Brown answered, with a sly wink. "That's between
the two of us! If I had him here I'd cut his heart out, and show you how
black it is."
The sailor was fast coming under the influence of the gin, and Ned knew
that he must keep him talking or he would drop off into drugged slumber.
He sounded him on half a dozen subjects, intending to lead him back to
the man's connection with the plot, but he would not talk until the
subject of Japan was brought up. He seemed to be infatuated with the
Flowery Kingdom.
"I know the history of Japan," he said, with a brightening of the eyes.
"In the beginning, the world was like an egg in shape. The white became
heaven, and the yolk became earth. You may read about it yourself in the
book called "_The Way of the Gods_." Then two Gods descended from
heaven, and a son called Omikami was born to them, and his body was so
bright that he flew up into the sky and became the sun.
"What do you think of that? He became the sun. And a daughter was born
to the two Gods, and she became the moon. The moon you see when the sun
goes down. Then the children that were born after these became strong
and founded the Empire of Japan. And the original inhabitants were hairy
on the body and ate raw meat. You see I know all about it!"
"And Japan may in time acquire all Asia," Ned said, desiring to lead the
sailor back to within reaching distance of the subject he was most
interested in. "In time the Philippines may belong to Japan."
The sailor winked at Ned mysteriously and flourished his bottle of gin.
"I know!" he cried. "I know! If Japan gets the Philippines she'll have
to fight a thousand tribes and the monkeys in the trees! She'll have to
fight also the crocodiles in the brooks. 'I could a tale unfold whose
lightest word would harrow up thy soul--cause thy two eyes, like stars,
to start from their spheres, and thy--.' Say," he said with a laugh,
"what do you think of me anyway? You think I've got a jag on, don't you.
Never was soberer in my innocent life!"
"If you'll describe this man that threw you down," Ned said, anxious to
have done with the by-play, "and tell me where to look for him, I'll go
and see what I can do for you. How much was he to give you?"
"Barrels!"
The sailor paused and stretched his hands above his head, the bottle
glistening in one of them. "He was to pile the greenbacks up so
high--for me to wade in, and wipe my feet on. You can't find him."
There was a stealthy movement on the stairs, and a movement not so
stealthy at the door. Ned heard a hand moving over the bamboo, and made
ready for a spring. He had no idea who the visitor might be, but his
manner of approach showed him to be no friend of the sailor's.
There were no more sounds at the door, and Ned glanced casually in that
direction. The candle on the wobbling shelf gave forth little light, and
that seemed to grow more shadows than rays of illumination. The shadows
seemed deepest and most uncertain of form at the door, but, at the
center of the odd-shape panel in the middle of the door he thought he
saw a malevolent eye looking forth into the room.
He wondered if an eye was really there, or if, his imagination stirred
by the weird scene and the fairy history of Japan which the sailor had
repeated, he was seeing things not present to the senses!
In a moment there was no doubt, for the malevolent eye left the aperture
and there was again a fumbling at the door. Ned made no motion, but sat
as if unconscious of any intruder being there. He knew that the person
at the door was there to watch the sailor, to see that he did not talk
too much, to see that he did not leave Yokohama until the trap of
treason had been fully set and baited.
There was no doubt in the mind of the boy now that he had found the man
he had set out in quest of. Of course the man who had planned the
conspiracy, who was doubtless assisting the tribes to arms and
ammunition by way of the unpatrolled China Sea, was the one he aimed to
reach in time. The sailor was only a link in the chain which led to the
object sought.
The mind of the boy was not at that time much concerned with thoughts
for his own safety although he could never be in more deadly peril than
he was at that moment when he was looked at through the opening in the
door. His one idea was to get a view of the spy, and with this object in
view he arose and stepped toward the door.
"You're getting sleepy," he said to the sailor, "and I'll go out and get
a little fresh air while you sleep. I shall not be far away."
"You're a good fellow," Brown cried, already half asleep. "When I get
out of this I'll tell you something that'll make your fortune. Bring
back another bottle of gin. Thish mos' gone!"
Ned stood by the door for a moment in order to give the spy time to get
back to the bottom of the stairs. He could see no profit in a struggle
in that place, and there was certain to be one if he permitted the spy
to know that his movements had been observed.
Finally he heard soft footsteps on the stairs. He waited only an instant
after this before passing out into the narrow hall. The staircase was
clear, but a door opening into it from the public room below was open
and a broad zone of light lay on the floor of the passage and on the
wall.
Ned stood in the doorway and looked out on the street, now and then
turning his eyes in the direction of the public room. At a table well
toward the back end of the place he saw the man he was looking for. He
was seated at a table with two men who appeared to be American sailors.
While he stood there, wondering at the inefficiency of the disguise the
man wore, at the nerve which prompted him to wear that fragment of
native costume when his face, manner and accent bespoke the cultured
American another sailor came swaggering into the place.
This sailor was unquestionably intoxicated. He swayed back and forth as
he walked, and would have fallen to the floor at the very door only for
the restraining hand of a boy who accompanied him. Immediately on his
appearance waiters rushed forward to attend to his wants, to give him a
chair and a table, and to pay him all sorts of little attentions.
In such places in all foreign ports the American sailor is the easy
mark. He drinks--when he drinks at all--until he is past all wisdom
regarding the expenditure of money, with the result that he literally
throws it away. In the appearance of this sailor the attendants saw a
rich harvest, not only for the place but for themselves.
But Ned saw more than this. He saw the freckled face and sparkling eyes
of Jimmie McGraw, steering the drunken sailor to the table pointed out
for him. The boy was in high humor, for he joked with the blundering
sailor, and instead of sitting down at the table--brought into use there
because the foreigners insist on not drinking sitting on the floor--he
sat down on it and swung his feet downward.
"Look at the kid!" one of the men at the table Ned was watching said.
"Looks like he was on South Clark street, Chicago."
"Don't get gay, now!" Jimmie retorted. "I'm playin' I'm a tug towin'
this 'ere sailorman to bed."
"You've got a job on your hands," the other said, and then the three at
the table bent their heads forward and talked in whispers. Now and then
they faced toward the doorway, but Ned was then too far toward the
street for them to observe him.
They did not seem at all suspicious of Jimmie, and Ned concluded that
such occurrences were not uncommon there. Jimmie seated his companion
more firmly in his chair in a moment and passed out, stopping at the
doorway where Ned stood.
"You duck!" the boy said. "That man in there with the sailors followed
you here, an' I followed him here. You duck!"
"I haven't got the information I'm after yet," Ned said. "How in the
world did you get here?"
"Followed the chap that followed you," was the quick reply. "Out here I
come upon that beery sailor and took him in tow!"
"Good idea," Ned said. "Now, you slip past me and go up stairs, to the
room in front, and see if the man there can be gotten away. I want to
size up the men in there. I can see them by poking my head out
occasionally, but they can't see me."
"Well, you keep your gun ready," Jimmie warned. "This ain't New York,
with a cop every half block an' a taxicab always within reach. This is
Yokohama! Don't you forget that!"
"Don't remain up there long!" said Ned.
Jimmie hastened away, and Ned stood leaning against the casing of the
doorway. Then Jimmie came down the stairs at a jump, making no pretense
of secrecy, and behind him there was a rush of feet and a jumble of
foreign words.
The three men Ned had been watching sprang up from their table and
dashed toward the front of the place, and all was confusion in an
instant. The sailor who had come in with Jimmie attempted to lean
carelessly back in his chair and toppled over on the floor, where he lay
with the slippered feet of the attendants striking him in their rush for
the door.
"Run!" Jimmie cried as he approached Ned. "Hot foot! The man you sent me
to is dead, and there's a bunch of ruffians after us. Run! Beat it!"