The Cossack fingered his own excellent growth of thick, black beard, then started walking, indicating that Daniel should follow. Daniel obeyed; it would not have been healthy to do otherwise. He had no idea if he was under arrest or not.
The Cossack ducked inside one of the shops and Daniel entered behind him. He gaped in utter confusion as the large man set his rifle against the wall and stripped off his uniform jacket. Then, nudging Daniel into one of the barber chairs, he actually prepared to shave him.
After his shave, Daniel paid the Cossack a ruble for his services. It was the best shave he’d ever had, and Daniel had been able to extract valuable information from the erstwhile barber. Much to his chagrin, he learned not only that Stoessel was still in command of the port, but also of the reversals of the last couple of days. The Russians had finally been forced to retreat within the main defensive perimeter of the fortress. Daniel was unable to learn other vital details, such as the disposition of the Russian fleet, without giving away the fact that he had just arrived illegally in the town. But the Cossack revealed enough for Daniel to know he had come to Port Arthur at its most perilous hour.
When he met Yin Chu at a prearranged rendezvous spot, Daniel was told he had a place to stay in a Chinese inn—located in a part of town he knew to be a squalid slum. Not ready to turn in for the night, especially with such meager prospects before him, Daniel headed once more for the destination that his encounter with the Cossack “barber” had delayed.
A single light burned from the window of the office of the Port Arthur newspaper, Novy Krai. He knew many of the staff and was on especially good terms with one of the reporters, Eduard Nojine. He didn’t want to place his friend in jeopardy with the authorities by asking Nojine to harbor him, but Daniel saw no reason not to contact him for information. Nojine might have some idea about where Daniel might locate Mariana. Finding her was his main objective, but it was quite possible Nojine would welcome Daniel’s services on the paper, if his work could be done discreetly. For one thing, Daniel was fresh from the “outside world” and had much news he was certain even the authorities didn’t have. He was even considering the possibility of using this information to entice the military leaders to allow him to stay legally in the port. First, however, he wanted to confer with Nojine to assure his bargaining position.
Nojine was working late, as Daniel had hoped. His initial shock at the unexpected sight of his American friend was quickly followed by an exuberant Russian embrace.
“My word! You are flesh and blood. For a moment I wondered.” The reporter ushered Daniel into the office and quickly closed the door. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“An affaire d’amour,” Daniel said coyly.
“What? Not you, Trent, the hardheaded, hardhearted American correspondent?”
“I think I deserve to be taken more seriously than that,” said Daniel with mock affront. “I risked my neck to get here.” For the next twenty minutes Daniel gave a brief account of his trip.
“I won’t deny your dedication, my friend,” Nojine said when Daniel finished. “It was pure insanity—that proves it must be love, eh? So, why are you here and not in the arms of your beautiful lover—at least, I must assume she is beautiful, to make you perform such a crazy stunt.”
“I was hoping you could help me find her. It shouldn’t be too difficult since she is a Red Cross nurse.”
“Well, there are a dozen hospitals in operation—but let me see if I can find the names of the Red Cross hospitals.” He turned to a file cabinet, talking as he searched in one of the drawers. “Do you need a place to stay?”
“I’ve got a place north of the quarry, in Chinese town—”
“Ugh! Trent, surely we can find you something better than that.”
“Is your standing with the authorities so secure you could take such a risk?”
Nojine laughed, a low rumble that seemed out of place from the rather frail-looking man. “Stoessel just found out about a message I smuggled out of here to a friend in Chefu telling him to notify the tsar of the absolute necessity of relieving Stoessel of command. You should have heard Stoessel rant and rave at me, calling me—and all reporters—everything from liars to agents of the enemy. I don’t doubt he’d be thrilled to find a reason for tossing me into jail.”
“All the more reason for us to avoid each other.”
“Trent, you aren’t going to waste this opportunity of a lifetime just on love, are you? We’ve got to get the truth out. We can’t—” He stopped suddenly, yanking a file from the drawer. “Ah, here it is!” Shuffling through the file, he withdrew a single page. “There you are, a list of all the hospitals. There are only four Red Cross hospitals, so that should help your search. First thing in the morning—”
“Are you kidding! The night is still young. I haven’t traveled hundreds of miles through enemy lines and monsoons to wait another minute if I can help it.”
“All right, let’s go. I’m always for romance.”
“Are you sure you want to accompany me? I mean, with Stoessel out to get you and all?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Daniel, full of confidence, tried not to think too much about things like love and romance. He gave little thought to the implication of his impulsive visit and the risks involved. It never occurred to him that Mariana might read too much into it. He figured she’d be thrilled to see him, they’d have a good time together, and . . . well, what more did there have to be to it?
His plans simply did not take into account the feelings of a young woman, nor the explosive milieu of war and siege.
23
Daniel found Mariana’s boardinghouse that night, but the place was already locked and shuttered. A nurse on the night shift at the hospital had given him the address and informed him that Mariana was scheduled to be at work at seven in the morning.
He returned to his room at the inn, slept uneasily in a bed he was sure was lice-infested, and seriously considered Nojine’s offer of a place to stay, risk or not. He rose while dawn was making its first mark on the Manchurian skyline. Maybe he could intercept Mariana before she started work.
As the sun rose over Port Arthur, General Nogi was giving a final inspection to his half dozen land-based guns. These six and 4.7 inch guns, the heaviest of the four hundred guns in his arsenal, could spit fatal shells toward their target from a long distance.
The ground gained by his army in the last few days had placed him within striking distance. He might not be able to capture Russian Port Arthur in one day, as they had defeated Chinese Port Arthur a few years earlier, but he was confident in his present army. His troops had already proven themselves successful against the great Russian bear.
The port’s three lines of defense, however, were nothing to make light of. The Old Town was protected by an ancient Chinese wall a thousand yards from the town center, and the wall was reinforced by a series of formidable forts. In the hills to the northeast and northwest, the Russians had liberally fortified their positions with heavy guns. Especially fortified was the peak known as 203 Metre Hill which overlooked all of Port Arthur, including the harbor.
The Russians could not afford to lose this important hill—its loss would not only spell peril for the town, but it would also jeopardize the vitally important Russian fleet still anchored in the harbor.
Nogi was a venerated veteran and hero of Japan. Nevertheless, he was under great pressure to dispatch this obstacle quickly. Japanese success thus far had come only at the expense of enormous losses in manpower, and for the invasion of Liaoyang in the north to commence, the army required reinforcements from Nogi’s troops. He didn’t have time for a long, drawn-out siege. But more than that, Nogi’s masters in Tokyo demanded victory simply to save face. The Russians had usurped the Liaotung Peninsula, and all of Manchuria for that matter, as if the Japanese were nothing. Now the Nippon Empire must prove otherwise.
Thus, as the rising sun crested the tall hills, Nogi gave the or
der he had been anxious to deliver for many days. The bombardment of Port Arthur was to begin.
Daniel realized it was Sunday only when he heard a church bell peal in the distance. A streak of light in the west outlined the 203 Metre Hill. It looked rather picturesque, with the ringing bells adding to the serenity of the morning.
Several nurses were leaving the boardinghouse as he approached.
“Has Mariana Remizov left yet?” he asked one.
“I don’t know—”
“Oh, yes,” answered another. “I saw her leave a few minutes ago. She can’t be too far away.”
Daniel listened no more but took off immediately toward the hospital. Because it would be too awkward to talk to Mariana at work, he jogged down the street, hoping to catch her before she reached the hospital.
Just then the first of the enemy’s guns blasted in the still morning air. Daniel had been close enough to war zones to realize this was not distant battle. The city itself was being shelled.
The ground under his feet shook with the explosion. Behind him, he heard the frightened screams of the nurses at the boardinghouse, and he glanced back. They were unharmed; the blast had been several streets away.
“You’d better take cover inside,” he called to the nurses. “Is there a cellar in there?”
“Yes, but we’re expected at the hospital.”
Another blast rent the air, then another and another. Daniel could see scattered puffs of black smoke rising in the sky.
“I think they’ll understand. No one’s going to expect you to be out in this—”
Suddenly it struck him—Mariana might be out in the open right now! Would there be some decent shelter for her to retreat to, or just the flimsy buildings that lined the street?
Daniel began to run. It was a good fifteen-minute walk to the hospital from the boardinghouse. Mariana might make it, but would even the hospital be safe? Those big Japanese guns would hardly be able to discern the Red Cross flag waving from its rooftop.
The artillery blasts came in rapid succession. All around Daniel, soldiers scurried to their posts and civilians raced this way and that—some in sheer panic, some in search of cover. Unfortunately, the inept Stoessel had forbidden the building of bomb shelters, probably in a vain attempt to seduce the citizenry into believing they were not in any danger. In an ironic way, he had been successful. The city had been braced for months for just such an attack, yet as time went by, people began to think it was all just idle talk. They were convinced the Japanese would be ousted from the Liaotung Peninsula long before such an attack could ever happen.
The shocked screams of people in the street mingled with curses at the government in general and General Stoessel in particular. But Daniel didn’t care about any of that for the moment. Later, he’d do his best to expose the bungling of the siege; for now his only concern was Mariana.
Then he saw her—at least he saw a nurse dive into a narrow alley as a shell exploded a hundred feet ahead of her. Ignoring the rumbling of the earth under him and the dizzying rattling in his ears, Daniel made for the alley nearly tripping over his own feet as he came to a screeching halt next to the nurse.
She turned wide eyes toward him, and he realized his quest had been rewarded.
He gave Mariana a lopsided grin. “We meet again, Miss Remizov. What a pleasure!”
“Daniel?” Then she laughed. “I wasn’t sure until I heard your voice. You’re rather a blur—I’ve lost my glasses. What in the world are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“Me?”
Another shell exploded, closer this time. Mariana barely stifled a scream as she clamped her hands over her ears. Even Daniel had to suppress his own cry of fear.
“Daniel, you should never have come here.” Mariana’s voice trembled over the words. “But . . . but I am glad to see you. That is, I would be if I could see.”
“When did you lose your glasses?”
“Just a few moments ago when I ran in here.”
“Stay put. I’ll look for them.”
Daniel searched in the alley to no avail, then he cautiously moved out into the street. Sunlight glinting off the lenses led him to the eyeglasses, lying a few feet from the opening of the alley. He had just closed his hand around them when another shell burst a mere sixty feet away. The impact sent him sprawling, and he nearly lost his own spectacles.
“Daniel!”
Amid the dust and flying rubble, he scrambled back into the alley, then triumphantly held out her glasses.
“Oh, Daniel! I’m so frightened.” Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.
Her hands were trembling, and Daniel slipped the glasses on her face. Then he placed a calming arm around her.
“It’s okay, Mariana.” He was scared himself but he would never admit it freely.
Mariana sniffed and dabbed at the tears beneath her lenses.
A shell ripped a hole in the ground in the middle of the street, and the wall of the building they were leaning against shook. Rubble and shrapnel sliced at them; only by pressing their bodies against the brick wall of the building did they escape serious injury. Nevertheless a piece of wood ripped through Daniel’s shirt-sleeve, gashing his arm. Across the street, the building that had been hit a few moments ago burst into flames.
“We really ought to get out of here,” Daniel said with forced calm. “How far is it to the hospital?”
“Two blocks.”
“Maybe there’s a cellar nearby—”
“They’re going to need me at the hospital.”
“You’ll get to the hospital soon enough. Better you get there in one piece, rather than on a stretcher.”
“But—”
“And I thought I was crazy.” He rolled his eyes, but the dust and grime on his glasses hid the motion. “Come on. The building next to us seems to be holding up all right. Maybe there’s a cellar inside.”
Without waiting for an argument, he grabbed her hand and started toward the street. Mariana followed without resistance.
They were about to make the sharp right at the front of the building when a shell burst dead center in the roof. The entire front of the building shattered, sending bits of glass, wood, mortar, and broken bricks everywhere. Mariana and Daniel were knocked off their feet and thrown about two yards back into the alley. It was their closest call yet. Pieces of roofing sailed down on them, one nicking Daniel in the head, another bruising Mariana’s shoulder. But the wall adjacent to the alley held and provided some protection—otherwise both he and Mariana might have been killed, crushed by the weight of the wall or impaled by shrapnel.
Crouching on the ground, pressed for dear life against the wall, they did not move for several minutes. Mariana clung to Daniel, shaking and weeping. Daniel was shaking too, completely unable to maintain his courageous facade, and he inwardly cursed the tears that mingled freely with his sweat.
The bombing kept up relentlessly. Daniel had been in dangerous situations before, but this was completely unhinging. Bombs were falling all around them. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he had been alone, but the weight of the responsibility he felt for Mariana made the fear suffocating. He felt so inadequate, so puny. What could he do? He was great at talking big, but talk wasn’t going to stop one of those Japanese bombs from snuffing out their lives.
The ground rumbled with another blast. Though the actual blast was many feet away, the wall at their backs shook, and loose bricks toppled down on them.
“We gotta get out of here!” Daniel grabbed Mariana’s hand and they tried to make a run for it.
A shell ripped up the street directly ahead of them, then another at their rear. They were trapped, and the brick wall was crumbling more with every blast. There was no place safe to hide.
Covering her ears, Mariana buried her head against Daniel. “Why won’t it stop?”
The weight of fear and responsibility nearly crushed Daniel as he looked wildly around for a way of escape. “Oh, God,
help us!” he cried, hardly knowing what he was saying.
When a short lull came in the shelling, Daniel propelled Mariana toward the street but another explosion stopped him. He turned in the opposite direction. Maybe the alley went through. He tried not to think that if it didn’t, they could easily be trapped.
Then he saw the door in the side of the building.
He headed toward it, Mariana following as if in a trance. Daniel tried the doorknob. It was locked, but it was an old lock, and the wood encasing the door appeared rotten. A couple of hard kicks and a ram with his shoulder splintered the wood so the door could be opened. A flight of stairs leading down greeted them.
“A cellar!” Daniel exclaimed.
The cellar was dark, and a thick shroud of cobwebs indicated that it hadn’t been used for a long time, but it represented salvation to Daniel and Mariana. They huddled together in its black recesses and tried to regain their composure—not an easy matter with explosions still echoing outside and unseen things inside the building rattling and crashing.
After a few more minutes they noticed the silence. Utter quiet, like the silence of a tomb.
24
Mariana’s voice, though frail and shaky, was like a light in the nearly complete blackness that surrounded them.
“Is . . . is it over?”
“For now.”
“There’ll be more?”
Daniel couldn’t see Mariana’s face, but he heard the fear in her voice.
“You better brace yourself.” Daniel tried to be gentle in his prediction. “It could go on for the duration of the siege.”
“I was never more frightened in my life.” She paused. Daniel didn’t like the darkness filling up the void and was relieved when Mariana continued. “Daniel, I really appreciate your praying for us.”
“Praying? Me?”
“Yes, back there in the alley.”
“Oh . . . I forgot about that.”
“I’m glad someone had the presence of mind to do it. I hate to admit it, but I was so frightened I completely forgot to pray.”
The Russians Collection Page 164