_Chapter VII_
THE RED SUN OVER THE GOLDEN GATE
Too-oo-ot, bellowed the whistle of a big steamer that was proceedinggingerly through the fog which enveloped the broad Bay of San Franciscoearly on the morning of May seventh. The soft, white mist crept throughthe Golden Gate among the masts and funnels of the ships made fast tothe docks, enveloped the yellow flame of the lanterns on the foremast ina misty veil, descended from the rigging again, and threatened toextinguish the long series of lights along the endless row of docks. Theglistening bands of light on the Oakland shore tried their best topierce the fog, but became fainter and fainter in the damp, penetrating,constantly moving masses of mist. Even the bright eye on Angel Islandwas shut out at last. Too-oo-ot, again sounded the sullen cry of warningfrom the steamer in the Golden Gate--Too-oo-ot. And then from Tiburonopposite the shrill whistle of the ferry-boat was heard announcing itsdeparture to the passengers on the early train from San Rafael. Theflickering misty atmosphere seemed like a boundless aquarium, anaquarium in which gigantic prehistoric, fabulous creatures stretchedtheir limbs and glared at one another with fiery eyes. Trembling beamsof light hovered between the dancing lights on and between the ships,rising and falling like transparent bars when the shivering sentries ondeck moved their lanterns, and threw into relief now some dripping bitsof rigging, and again the black outline of a deck-house as the sailorhurried below for a drink to refresh his torpid spirits.
The cold wind blew the damp fog into Market Street, forced it uphill andthen let it roll down again, filling every street with its graysubstance.
Too-oo-ot, came the whistle from the Golden Gate again and further offstill another whistle could be heard. Over in Tiburon the ferry-boat hadcalmed down, as it found itself unable to budge in the fog. One afterthe other, the tower-clocks struck half-past four, the strokes soundingloud and unnatural in the fog. From Telegraph Hill at the northern endof San Francisco a splendid view could be obtained of this undulatingsea of mist. A few of the isolated houses situated in the higher partsof the town looked like islands floating on the ever-moving glossy graybillows, while the top stories of several sky-scrapers rose up here andthere like solemn black cliffs. A faint light in the east heralded theapproach of day. Too-oo-ot, sounded the whistle of the approachingsteamer once again; then its voice broke and died out in a discordantsob, which was drowned in the nervous gang, gang, gang of the ship'sbell. The steamer had been obliged to anchor on account of the fog.Too-oo-ot, came from the other steamer further out. Then life in the baycame to a stand-still: nothing could be done till the sun rose andbrought warmth in its train.
"This damned fog," said Tom Hallock, a telegraph boy, to his colleague,Johnny Kirkby, as he jumped off his bicycle in front of the Post Office,"this damned fog is enough to make one choke."
Johnny muttered some unintelligible words, for he was still half asleep;the effect of last night's eighteen drinks had not yet quite worn off."You can't see the nearest lamp-post," he blurted out after a while. "Inearly ran into a company of infantry just now that suddenly popped upin front of me out of the fog. What's going on this morning, anyhow?What are they marching out to Golden Gate for?"
"Oh, you jay," said Tom, "naval maneuvers, of course! Are you blind?Haven't you read the _Evening Standard_? There are to be naval maneuversthis morning, and Admiral Perry is going to attack San Francisco."
"This war-game is a crazy scheme," grumbled Johnny. They both left theirbicycles downstairs in a room in the Post Office and then went up totheir quarters on the first story.
"Naval maneuvers?" began Johnny again. "I really don't know anythingabout them. It was in last night's _Evening Standard_. It said that theorders had been changed quite unexpectedly, and that the maneuvers wouldtake place outside the bay to-day."
"It looks as though we'd have a long wait before daylight appears," saidTom impatiently, pointing out of the windows, while Johnny tackled thedilapidated tea-kettle in an effort to make himself an early morningdrink. Tom stamped up and down the room to warm himself, remarking:"Thank the Lord it's Sunday and there isn't much going on, otherwisewe'd all get sick chasing around with telegrams in this beastly fog."
Boom! The roar of a distant cannon suddenly made the windows rattle;boom again! It sounded as though it came from the Fort. "There you are,"said Tom, "there's your naval maneuvers. Perry won't stand any nonsense.He's not afraid of the fog; in fact, it gives him a fine chance for anattack."
Johnny didn't answer, for he had meanwhile dozed off. As soon as he hadwith considerable trouble got his tea-kettle into working order, he hadfallen fast asleep, and now began to snore with his nose pressed flaton the table, as if he meant to saw it through before his tea was ready.
Tom shrugged his shoulders in disgust, and said: "Those blamed drinks."
Another boom! from outside. The door opened behind Tom and a telegraphofficial looked in. "One, two," he counted, "two are there," and then heclosed the door again.
Downstairs in the street a motor-cycle hurried past puffing andrattling, the rider's figure looking like a gigantic elusive shadowthrough the fog.
Tom started to walk up and down again as the clock in the hall struck aquarter to five. A bell rung in the next room. Steps were heard comingup the stairs and a colleague of the other two came in, swearing at thefog. He passed Johnny, poured out some of the latter's tea for himselfand drank it, meanwhile looking at the sleeper inquiringly.
"It's the drinks," said Tom, grinning.
"H'm," growled the other. Another motor-cycle went by on the streetbelow, and then another.
Later on a group of ten motor-cycles rode past.
"Did you see that, Harry?" asked Tom, who was standing at the window.
"What?"
"Didn't they have guns?"
"They probably have something to do with the naval maneuvers."
At this moment another group of ten men passed, and there was no doubtof the fact that they carried guns.
"I guess it is the naval maneuvers," asserted Tom.
Boom! came the sound of another shot.
"That's queer," said Tom. "What do you suppose it is?" He opened thewindow and listened. "Do you hear it?" he asked Harry, who admittedthat he could also hear a rattling, scraping noise as though drums werebeing beaten far away or as though a handful of peas had been thrownagainst a pane of glass.
Tom leaned further out of the window in time to see a bicycle rider stopin front of the Post Office, take a big sheet of paper, moisten it witha large brush, and stick it on the wall near the entrance; then he rodeoff. Tom shut the window, for the fog seemed to be getting thicker andthicker, and now, in the pale light of approaching dawn, it was almostimpossible to recognize the yellow spots of light on the lamp-posts. Bythis time Johnny had awakened and they all had some tea together.
They were interrupted by a fourth messenger boy, who entered the room atthis moment and exclaimed:
"That's a great scheme of Admiral Perry's, and the fog seems to havehelped him a lot. What do you think? He has surprised San Francisco.There's a notice posted downstairs stating that the Japanese have takenpossession of San Francisco and that the Japanese military governor ofSan Francisco asks the citizens to remain quiet or the city will bebombarded from the harbor by the Japanese fleet."
"Perry is a great fellow, there's no use trying to fool with him," saidTom. "San Francisco surprised by the Japs--that's a mighty fine scheme."
Outside some one was tearing up the stairs two at a time, doors bangednoisily, and several bells rang. "Somebody's in a h--- of a hurry," saidHarry; "we'll have something to do in a minute."
A telegraph operator hurriedly opened the door and with great beads ofperspiration rolling down his face, shouted at the top of his lungs:"Boys, the Japanese have surprised San Francisco."
A roar of laughter greeted this piece of information.
"Stung!" cried Harry. "Stung! Perry is the Jap."
"Perry?" inquired the newcomer, staring at the other four. "Who'sPe
rry?"
"Don't you know, Mr. Allen, that there are naval maneuvers going onto-day and that Admiral Perry is to surprise San Francisco with thefleet?"
"But there are notices at all the street-corners saying that theJapanese governor of San Francisco begs the citizens----"
"Yes, that's where the joke comes in. Perry is going to attack the townas a Jap--that's his scheme."
"You haven't had enough sleep," cried Tom. "If all the Japs looked likeAdmiral Perry, then----"
Tom broke off short and dropped his tea-cup on the floor, staringblankly at the door as if he saw a ghost. Just behind Mr. Allen stood aJap, with a friendly grin on his face, but a Jap all the same, mostcertainly and without the slightest doubt a Jap. He looked around thebare office and said in fluent English: "I must ask you to remain inthis room for the present." With these words he raised his revolver andkept a sharp eye on the five occupants.
Johnny jumped up and felt instinctively for the revolver in his hippocket, but in a flash the muzzle of the Jap's gun was pointed straightat him and mechanically he obeyed the order "Hands up!"
"Hand that thing over here," said the Jap; "you might take it into yourhead to use it," and he took Johnny's revolver and put it in his pocket.Several Japanese soldiers passed by outside. Mr. Allen sank down on achair; not one of them could make head or tail of the situation.
They were kept waiting for half an hour. Down below in the street, wherethe wagons were beginning to rattle over the pavement, could be heardthe steady march of bodies of soldiers, frequently interrupted by thenoise of motor-cycles. There could no longer be any doubt--the affairwas getting serious.
The lamps were extinguished and the gray light of dawn filled the roomsas the head Postmaster made his rounds, guarded by a Japanese officer.
The official was perspiring profusely from sheer nervousness. He beggedthe employees to keep calm, and assured them that it was no joke, butthat San Francisco was really in the hands of the Japanese. It was theduty of the employees and the citizens, he said, to refrain from allresistance, so that a worse misfortune--a bombardment, he added in awhisper--might not befall the city.
The men were obliged to give up any weapons they had in theirpossession, and these were collected by the Japanese. At seven o'clock,when these details had been attended to, and the few telegraphinstruments which were kept in commission were being used by Japaneseoperators--all the others had been rendered useless by the removal ofsome parts of the mechanism--one of the regular operators asked to beallowed to speak to the Postmaster. Permission having been granted bythe Japanese guard, he told his chief, in a low voice, that the momentthe Japanese soldiers had taken possession of the telegraph room he hadhurriedly dispatched a message to Sacramento, telling them that SanFrancisco had been surprised by the Japanese fleet and that the wholecity was occupied by Japanese troops.
"I thank you in the name of our poor country," said the Postmaster,shaking the operator's hand, "I thank you with all my heart; you havedone a brave deed."
Just at the time when the operator sent off his telegram to Sacramento,a little, yellow, narrow-eyed fellow, lying in a ditch many milesinland, far to the east of San Francisco, connected his Morse apparatuswith the San Francisco-Sacramento telegraph-wire, and intercepted thefollowing message: "Chief of Police, Sacramento.--San Francisco attackedby Japanese fleet this morning; whole city in hands of Japanese army.Resistance impossible, as attack took place in thick fog before dawn.Help imperative."
The little yellow man smiled contentedly, tore off the strip, and handedit to the officer standing near him. The latter drew a deep breath andsaid: "Thank Heaven, that's settled."
At the time of the occupation of the Post Office building, the Japaneseoutposts had already spun their fine, almost invisible silver threadsaround all the telegraph-wires far inland and thus cut off alltelegraphic communication with the east. The telegram just quotedtherefore served only to tell the Japanese outposts of the overwhelmingsuccess of the Japanese arms at the Golden Gate.
But how had all this been accomplished? The enemy could not possiblyhave depended on the fog from the outset. Nevertheless an unusualbarometrical depression had brought in its train several days ofdisagreeable, stormy weather. The Japanese had been fully prepared for abattle with the San Francisco forts and with the few warships stationedin the harbor. The fact that they found such a strong ally in the fogwas beyond all their hopes and strategical calculations.
When the sun sank in the waves of the Pacific on the sixth of May, everyJapanese had his orders for the next few hours, and the five thousandmen whose part it was to attend to the work to be accomplished in SanFrancisco on the morning of the seventh, disappeared silently into thesubterranean caves and cellars of the Chinese quarter, to fetch theirweapons and be ready for action soon after midnight.
Banzai! by Parabellum Page 9