THE BURNING OF THE PRISON
For several days after the Americans had attacked the Forbidden City,
Gilbert’s command had little to do but to guard one of the palaces.
In the mean time the Japanese and the Russians were after the Emperor
and Dowager Empress, who were said to have fled first to one city and
then another. But the royal family had taken time by the forelock, and
could not be overtaken.
Looting had already begun in Pekin, and but little could be done to
stop it while the fighting still continued. The scenes which had been
enacted at Tien-Tsin were here repeated on a larger scale; and acres
of buildings were first emptied of everything valuable, and then given
over to the flames.
As nearly the whole of China was now anxious for peace, it was thought
at first to leave the Forbidden City alone. But this the Celestials
would have taken as a sign of weakness upon the part of the Allies;
and it was later on decided to open the great palace, and allow a
detachment from each foreign nation to march through it, as a sign that
the foreigners were absolute masters of the situation. This was done,
after which the palace was locked up, and the grounds closely guarded
against all vandalism.
It was less than two weeks after the fall of Pekin when Gilbert
received a letter which filled him with interest. It was from Mrs.
Bartlett, and ran as follows:--
“_Dear Lieutenant_,--You will be surprised to hear from me, but I
feel that I must let you know what has happened since your absence.
“A few days after you left Tien-Tsin, the guard at our house was
disturbed by a midnight intruder, who was at my husband’s desk,
ransacking his private papers. The guard called upon the man to
surrender, and with bad grace the intruder did so; and he proved to
be--would you believe it possible?--Nuglich Polk!
“Mr. Polk was at my husband’s papers, trying to steal the stock
certificates of the Richmond Importing Company. He begged to be let
go, but I would not listen to it; and he is now in the jail here,
awaiting trial.
“When Mr. Polk was searched, we found upon his person a number of
papers, also some letters from his father, which prove conclusively
that father and son were trying to defraud my husband out of what is
rightfully coming to him from the company. Among the letters there
was also one from Taku, written by a Jerry Nickerson, and speaking
of your case against the Polks. I think this communication makes it
clear that the Polks are becoming afraid of you; and that must mean
that Ramsey Polk defrauded your father, just as you supposed was the
case.
“When Nuglich Polk was captured, he claimed to be suffering from a
fever. Whether this is so or not, I cannot say; but it is certainly a
fact that life in prison is doing him no good.
“When you get the time, I shall be pleased to have you call upon us;
and I will then show you the letters I have mentioned, and which
Major Gilson has kindly allowed me to retain. It may be to your
interest to call upon Nuglich Polk. You will find him in Ward 8 of
the prison.
“My husband is doing very well, and hopes to be around again in the
course of a few weeks. We are glad to learn that Pekin has fallen,
and hope that a permanent peace will soon follow.”
“They have cornered him at last!” murmured Gilbert, after reading the
communication carefully. “I wish I could get to Tien-Tsin and see that
letter.”
His wish to get to Tien-Tsin was gratified the very next day. A
detachment of troops was going down the river, and Gilbert was placed
in charge. Although the country was still filled with Chinese, the trip
was made without special incident; and the acting captain of Company
A found himself in Tien-Tsin at nightfall the next day, and not many
blocks distant from the prison Mrs. Bartlett had mentioned.
Looting had long ago stopped in the city, and all was comparatively
quiet. Yet, as Gilbert walked in the direction of the prison (being
half of a mind to visit Nuggy Polk before calling upon the Bartletts,
who lived a good mile away), he noticed several soldiers and citizens
running in excitement.
“What’s the matter?” he asked of one of the soldiers, a slim little
Frenchman.
“Zare ees a fire down zat way,” answered the Frenchman, pointing with
his hand. “Ze guard say it ees ze prison zat is burning.”
“The prison!” exclaimed Gilbert.
“So ze guard say. I run, and I see for my own eyes.” And the little
Frenchman ran off as fast as his legs would carry him.
“Well, I guess I’ll see for ‘my own eyes,’ too,” muttered Gilbert, and
also put on a burst of speed, which speedily took him past the man
who had given him the information. By the time the second square was
passed, the young lieutenant saw the prison building quite plainly, and
saw that it was blazing fiercely at one end and in the front.
A strong wind was blowing; and, unless this shifted, it was easy to see
that the entire structure would be doomed. The thick black smoke was
curling from every window; and the very street was so full that the
fire brigade could do little or nothing.
“Have they got the prisoners out?” asked Gilbert of one of the firemen.
“Got some of ’em out,” was the answer. “We couldn’t get at the others:
the smoke was too thick.”
“Where are the prisoners?”
“Under guard, in the compound in the rear.”
Without the loss of a moment, Gilbert ran around to the compound. At
least sixty prisoners were there, some of the wounded lying upon the
ground and improvised couches. He looked them all over, but saw nothing
of Nuggy Polk.
“I am looking for a man who was in Ward 8,” he said to one of the
prison guards. “His name was Nuglich Polk, and he was an American.”
“We couldn’t get anybody out of Ward 8,” was the answer, after a glance
at Gilbert’s uniform. “That ward is up there, and the smoke kept us
out.”
The young lieutenant made out the corner of the building to which
the guard alluded. An outside stairway led to that section of the
structure, a stairway which but a moment before had been surrounded by
smoke. But now came a puff of wind, and the smoke was sent flying in
the opposite direction.
“Give me a key--I am going to look for that man!” cried Gilbert. “It’s
a shame to let anybody die like a rat in a trap.”
“That’s so, lieutenant. But the danger--”
“I’ll risk it. Give me the key.”
“I’ll go with you,” returned the guard. “I see the wind is shifting.”
“Then come!” And away went Gilbert for the stairs. Some few who saw the
action cheered, but others shook their heads.
“It’s foolhardy,” said the head-keeper. “If the wind drives back, he’ll
be lost, sure. Grimes, better stay here.”
“I said I’ll go, and I will,” answered Grimes, the assistant. He had
been in charge of Ward 8, and felt he must do what he could for the
unfortunates who were locked up.
It took Gilbert but a few seconds to reach the second floor of the
prison. The door at the top of the outside staircase was open, and he
plunged into the corridor beyond. Here the smoke was still thick, and
he had to pause to locate his surroundings.
“To the left!” shouted Grimes. “The prisoners are in the last two
rooms. Better bend down--the smoke won’t affect you so much.”
To find his way through the narrow corridor was no easy matter, and
Gilbert was soon suffering for the want of pure air. He, however,
gained the first of the two rooms mentioned in safety; and on his heels
came Grimes.
“Help! help! Let us out!” came in the voices of two men, a Russian and
a German; and the door was quickly unlocked. The men leaped out like
wild beasts, hurling Grimes flat in their eagerness to escape.
“Now the other door!” said Gilbert, in a hoarse whisper, so thick was
the smoke in his throat; but Grimes was too dazed to answer, and,
rising, the keeper ran after the pair who had just been liberated.
Gilbert was going after him, when his foot touched something and sent
it spinning against a side wall. It was a prison key, the one Grimes
had dropped. Hurriedly he picked it up, and ran for the last room at
the end of the corrider.
Here were three men fighting madly to pull down the iron barrier with
their bare hands, while a fourth was at the window bars. “Let us out!”
cried one, in broken English. “Do not let us roast to death!”
“I will open the door,” answered Gilbert. “Stand back!” And he thrust
the key into the lock. It did not fit very well, and all the time he
was trying to turn it the men continued to shriek and dance around like
maniacs. At last the bolt slipped back; and out came the men pell-mell,
the fellow from the window following the three others.
“Is Nuggy Polk here?” cried Gilbert; but none of the men answered him,
and an instant later he found himself alone in the corridor, which was
again filling with smoke as the wind shifted once more.
Gilbert was on the point of abandoning the search, when it came to
his mind to take one look into the ward before leaving it. Quickly
he sprang past the door, and his eyes swept over the couches and the
corners of the apartment. Nobody was there; and then his eyes travelled
to a small side window, opening upon what was a small balcony. But this
balcony was now barred from use.
A cry of horror escaped the young lieutenant. At the window was Nuggy
Polk. The young man had tried to escape by crowding between two of the
bars. His neck had been caught in the opening; and, with his head on
one side and his body on the other, he was a close prisoner.