GILBERT MEETS AMOS BARTLETT
Despite the fighting which he had done during the past few days,
Gilbert had not forgotten about Mr. Amos Bartlett; and as soon as he
found time he started out to learn, if possible, what had become of the
tea-merchant.
It was with difficulty that he found the street upon which was located
Amos Bartlett’s house and likewise the place where the merchant did
business. It was usually a busy quarter, but now it was all but
deserted.
The streets were filled with rubbish and filth, and household effects
were scattered everywhere. More than one house or store showed signs
of the bombardment, in the way of great holes or falling walls; and at
certain points the very roadway was ploughed up.
At last the young lieutenant stood before Amos Bartlett’s warehouse, a
low, rambling affair of wood. It seemed to be locked up; and he was
about to go on to the house beyond, when a cry in an English voice
arrested him.
“Let those goods alone! They belong to me, and you shall not touch
them!”
The voice was high-pitched and trembling, as if that of an elderly
man, and appeared to come from the rear of the warehouse. Curious to
know what was going on, Gilbert hurried to the rear, and here found
an elderly American gentleman and three Russian soldiers. The Russian
soldiers were trying to walk off with a big box of tea, and the elderly
man was endeavoring to stop them. The foreigners were talking in their
native tongue, and of course Gilbert could not understand a word of
what was said.
“What’s the trouble?” asked the young lieutenant. The brutal looks on
the faces of the three Russians did not please him.
“They wish to rob me of my tea, and I refuse to let them have it,”
answered the elderly gentleman; and then, glancing at Gilbert’s
uniform, he added, “Are you an American officer?”
“I am.”
“Then let me tell you that I am an American citizen. These are my own
private goods, and I place myself under your protection.”
Gilbert was startled, and naturally; for he immediately felt the
delicacy of his position. Yet it was not in him to shirk his duty; and,
facing the three Russians, he ordered them to drop the box they had
picked up.
At once all three began to talk at a rapid rate, every word being
utterly unintelligible to the young lieutenant. All he could do was to
point to the box with his sword and then point to the floor. But the
Russians either did not or would not understand, and they started for
the door with their burden.
But Gilbert was not to be circumvented; and, rushing to the doorway, he
placed himself in the very centre of it, holding his sword straight in
front of him.
“Can you speak Russian?” he asked of the elderly man.
“Just a little.”
“Then tell them that you have placed the goods in care of the American
soldiers.”
As well as he was able, the elderly man did as requested. At once the
Russians began to answer, speaking as rapidly as before.
“They say they have orders from one of their officers to take the tea,”
said the elderly man. “But I don’t believe them. Some of those Russians
have stolen my tea before this. They are all great drinkers of tea, you
know.”
“Tell them they must produce a written order for tea, properly signed,”
went on Gilbert. “Then, if they take it, you can charge it up to the
Russian government.”
When Gilbert’s words were translated the three Russians scowled. As
a matter of fact, they had not been sent out at all, but were on a
private looting expedition, and had expected to obtain a rich prize in
the chest of tea, which weighed at least a hundred pounds. One of the
number looked as if he wished to fight the young lieutenant, but the
determined look in Gilbert’s eyes held him in check.
“Be it so. We will get an order,” said the ring-leader, in Russian; and
he sullenly withdrew, followed by his comrades. Once outside, they lost
no time in hurrying for the Russian camp, fearful of being followed and
reported.
“That is the sixth time they have attempted to loot this warehouse,”
said the elderly man, drawing a long sigh of relief on finding the
intruders gone. “If I didn’t keep watch day and night, I shouldn’t have
a cash’s worth of goods left.”
“I am glad I was of service to you,” answered Gilbert; and then he
added curiously, “Can this be Mr. Amos Bartlett?”
“That is my name, lieutenant. But you have the advantage of me.” And
Amos Bartlett looked at Gilbert carefully.
“We have never met, Mr. Bartlett; but I have often heard of you,
and you knew my father and my mother quite well. My name is Gilbert
Pennington, and my father was Jefferson Pennington.”
“Jefferson Pennington’s son! Is it possible?” The elderly gentleman
held out his hand. “I am more than delighted to meet you.” And he wrung
Gilbert’s hand warmly. The heartiness of the grasp was one Gilbert
never forgot; and, as he looked into Amos Bartlett’s eyes, he realized
that he had met one who could be trusted and who would be his friend.
“Perhaps you will think it queer, but I have been thinking of you a
good deal lately,” said the young lieutenant. “And it was partly to
try to find you that I was anxious for this campaign in China.”
“Yes? You excite my curiosity. But come into my house, and I will
introduce you to my wife and daughter. I wished to send them to Taku
for safety, but neither would leave me.”
Trembling with excitement over what had just occurred, Amos Bartlett
led the way out of the warehouse, the door of which he bolted and
locked, and then took Gilbert to the house next door, a comfortable
residence, built in the form of a hollow square, and two stories high.
In the centre was a tastefully laid out garden; and here, resting in
hammocks, were Mrs. Bartlett, a lady nearly as old as her husband, and
Jennie, her daughter, a girl of fifteen.
Mrs. Bartlett had known the late Mrs. Pennington well, and was greatly
pleased to meet Gilbert; and the daughter was also interested. They
soon made the young lieutenant feel at home, and the lady of the house
had a faithful Chinese servant prepare some refreshments.
“Of course we are all upset,” said Mrs. Bartlett; “for we do not know
what minute the Chinese may turn their guns in this direction again.
I want my husband to go to Taku with us, but he insists upon remaining
here and guarding his property to the last; and I cannot bear to think
of separating from him, for we have been together ever since we came to
China.”
“You spoke about coming particularly to see me,” put in Amos Bartlett.
“I did wish to see you very much, Mr. Bartlett,” answered Gilbert.
“But, before I go further, let me ask, has Mr. Ramsey Polk’s son Nuggy
called upon you yet?”
“Ramsey Polk’s son?” repeated the tea-merchant. “Why, no. I did not
know that he was in China.”
“He came over from Manila with our regiment, although he is not a
soldier.”
“I have seen or heard nothing of him. I remember him as a boy, but that
is all.”
“He is on his way here to buy out your interest in the Richmond
Importing Company.”
“Indeed! I was informed by letter that the Importing Company’s affairs
were in bad shape.” And Amos Bartlett smiled in a peculiar way.
“Who wrote you that?”
“Ramsey Polk. He told me I had better sell out.”
“According to my notion, he has misinformed you; and the company is in
a highly prosperous condition.”
“So I have already learned through a lawyer I hired to investigate. Is
this what you wish to see me about?”
“I wanted to see you about the claim my father had on the company at
the time of his death. If you will remember, my mother got only about
two thousand dollars--”
“But Ramsey Polk paid her twenty-six thousand dollars later on,”
interposed the old tea-merchant.
“Twenty-six thousand dollars! He didn’t pay her a cent more than the
law compelled him to pay.”
“But he wrote to me that he had paid it to her,” insisted Amos Bartlett.
“Then he wrote that which was not true. Did you know that there was
twenty-six thousand dollars coming to her?”
“I did. Your father turned over the certificates of stock to Polk just
before he died. I wrote to Polk about it, and he wrote back as I have
told you. So neither you nor your mother ever got the money? This
looks like a deliberate swindle. Well, I am not surprised--after the
game Polk tried to work upon me. He is a bad egg.” And Amos Bartlett
shook his head sadly.
“I met Nuggy Polk by accident in Manila,” continued Gilbert, and
related the particulars of the affair. “If he turns up here, he will
get the better of you if he can. But probably he will be too scared to
come to Tien-Tsin just now.”
“I don’t believe he can harm me--since I have learned the truth of
matters in Richmond and since you have warned me. As soon as the
present war is over, I shall go to work to bring Ramsey Polk to a
strict accounting.”
“And will you aid me in my suit against him?” asked Gilbert, anxiously.
“Certainly I will, lieutenant. Your father and I were great friends,
and I will do all in my power to see that justice is done you.”
Amos Bartlett extended his hand, and Gilbert took it again. By this
time the refreshments were ready to be served, and the whole party
moved to a piazza of the residence where it was more shady.
The move was a providential one; for hardly were the party seated
around the table which the Chinese servant had spread when there came a
low and sudden whine, as of something in deadly pain, and a shell burst
directly in the top of a tree growing in the centre of the garden. The
report was followed by a shower of small branches and leaves, and then
it was seen that the tree had been split in twain almost from top to
bottom.
“Creation! but that was close!” cried Gilbert; while Jennie Bartlett
shrieked from fright. Then the young lieutenant looked at the split
tree. “Get out of the way!” he ejaculated hoarsely. “It’s coming down
on top of us!”