_Chapter XV_
A RAY OF LIGHT
Only a small Japanese garrison was left at Seattle after the firsttransports of troops had turned eastward on the seventh and eighth ofMay, and the northern army under Marshal Nogi had, after a fewinsignificant skirmishes with small American detachments, taken up itsposition in, and to the south of, the Blue Mountains. Then, in thebeginning of June, the first transport-ships arrived from Hawaii,bringing the reserve corps for the northern army, with orders to occupythe harbors and coast-towns behind the front and to guard the lines ofcommunication to the East.
Communication by rail had been stopped everywhere. No American wasallowed to board a train, and only with the greatest difficulty did afew succeed in securing special permission in very urgent cases. Thestations had one and all been turned into little forts, being occupiedby Japanese detachments who at the same time attended to the Japanesepassenger and freight-service.
In all places occupied by the Japanese the press had been silenced,except for one paper in each town, which was allowed to continue itsexistence because the Japs needed it for the publication of edicts andproclamations issued to the inhabitants, and for the dissemination ofnews from the seat of war, the latter point being considered of greatimportance. This entire absence of news from other than Japanese sourcesgave rise to thousands of rumors, which seemed to circulate morerapidly by word of mouth than the former telegraphic dispatches hadthrough the newspapers.
On the morning of June eighth the news was spread in Tacoma that thecity would that day receive a Japanese garrison, as severaltransport-steamers had arrived at Seattle. Up to that time only oneJapanese company had been stationed at Tacoma, and they had occupied therailroad station and the gas and electric works and intrenchedthemselves in the new waterworks outside the town. Through some strangetrick of fortune the gun-depot for the arming of the national guardwhich had been removed to Tacoma a year ago and which contained aboutfive thousand 1903 Springfield rifles had escaped the notice of theenemy. The guns had been stored provisionally in the cellars of a largegrain elevator and it had been possible to keep them concealed from theeyes of the Japs, but it was feared that their hiding-place might bebetrayed any day. This danger would of course be greatly increased themoment Tacoma received a stronger garrison.
Martin Engelmann, a German who had immigrated to the great Northwestsome twenty years ago, owned a pretty little home in the suburbs ofTacoma. The family had just sat down to dinner when the youngest son,who was employed in a large mercantile establishment in the city,entered hurriedly and called out excitedly:
"They're coming, father, they're in the harbor."
Then he sat down and began to eat his soup in haste.
"They're coming?" asked old Engelmann in a serious tone of voice, "thenI fear it is too late."
The old man got up from the table and going over to the window lookedout into the street. Not a living thing was to be seen far and wideexcept a little white poodle gnawing a bone in the middle of thestreet. Engelmann stared attentively at the poodle, buried in thought.
"How many of them are there?" he asked after a pause.
"At least a whole battalion, I'm told," answered the son, finishing hissoup in short order.
"Then it's all over, of course. Just twenty-four hours too soon," sighedEngelmann softly as he watched the poodle, who at that moment wasjumping about on the street playing with the gnawed bone.
Engelmann tried hard to control himself, but he did not dare turn hishead, for he could hear low, suppressed sobbing behind him. Martha, thefaithful companion of his busy life, sat at the table with her faceburied in her hands, the tears rolling uninterruptedly down her cheeks,while her two daughters were trying their best to comfort her.
Old Engelmann opened the window and listened.
"Nothing to be heard yet; but they'll have to pass here to get to thewaterworks," he said. Then he joined his family, and turning to hiswife, said: "Courage, mother! Arthur will do his duty."
"But if anything should happen to him--" sobbed his wife.
"Then it will be for his country, and his death and that of his comradeswill give us an example of the sacrifices we must all make until thelast of the yellow race has been driven out."
The mother went on crying quietly, her handkerchief up to her eyes:"When was it to be? Tell me!" she cried.
"To-night," said the father, "and they would surely have beensuccessful, for they could easily have overpowered the few men at thestation and in the town. Listen, there are the Japs!"
From outside came the regular beat of the drums. Bum--bum--bum, bum, bumthey went, and then the shrill squeaking of the fifes could also beheard.
"Yes, there they are, the deuce take 'em," said Engelmann. The sound ofthe drums became more and more distinct and presently the sound oftroops marching in step could be clearly distinguished. Then the stepsbecame firmer, and the window-panes began to rattle as the leader of thebattalion appeared on horseback in the middle of the street, followed bythe fife and drum corps, and with the little white poodle barking at hisheels. It was a Japanese battalion of reserves marching in the directionof the new waterworks outside the town.
"Courage, mother!" comforted the old man. "If they only stay at thewaterworks all may yet be well."
"Wouldn't it be possible to warn Arthur?" began the mother again.
"Warn him?" said Engelmann, shrugging his shoulders, "all you have to dois to go to the telegraph office and hand in a telegram to the Japaneseofficial, telling them to remain where they are."
"But couldn't we make it a go after all?" asked the youngest sonthoughtfully. "The boxes are all ready, and can be packed in half anhour. We have three hundred men and thirty wagons. The latter were to beloaded at eleven o'clock to-night. And then at them with our revolvers!There aren't more than twenty men at the station," he went on withsparkling eyes. "At eleven o'clock sharp the telegraph-wire to thewaterworks will be cut, also the wires to all the stations; then letthem telegraph all they like. The minute the train arrives, the enginewill be switched to another track and then backed in front of the train.Meanwhile the boxes will be packed in the cars and then we'll be offwith the throttle wide open. At each station a car will be dropped, andwagons will be waiting to receive their loads and get away as fast asthe horses can pull them. Safe hiding-places have been found for all theboxes, and whatever hasn't been captured by to-morrow morning willcertainly never fall into the enemy's hands."
"Where is the telegraph-wire to the waterworks?" asked the father.
"That's my job, to cut the wire just before the arrival of the train,"said his son proudly.
"Richard," cried the mother in a horrified voice, "are you in it, too?"
"Yes, mother, you didn't suppose I'd stand and look on while Arthur wasrisking his life, did you? What would they think of us on the other sideif we were to hesitate at such a time as this? 'Germans to the front,'that's our slogan now, and we'll show the people in Washington that theGerman-Americans treat the duties of their new country seriously."
Old Engelmann laid his hand on his son's shoulder, saying: "Right youare, my boy, and my blessing go with you! So you are to cut thetelegraph-wire?"
"Yes, father. We happen to know where it is. The Japs were of courseclever enough to lay it underground, but we have discovered it under thepaving near Brown & Co.'s store. We dug through to it very carefullyfrom the cellar, and so as to make quite sure in case they should noticeanything out of the way at the waterworks, we attached a Morse apparatusto the wire in the cellar. In case they suspect anything at the worksand begin to telegraph, I'm to work the keys a little so that they won'tknow the wire is cut. In addition we laid a wire to the station lastnight, which will give a loud bell-signal in case any danger threatens."
The young fellow had talked himself into a state of great excitement,and his two sisters, watching him proudly, began to be infected by hisenthusiasm.
The shades of night were falling slowly as Richard Engelmann bade ato
uching farewell to his family and left the house, whistling a livelytune as he walked towards the town.
Banzai! by Parabellum Page 17