“No, that’s quite safe; but she isn’t supposed to use it for wailing except in public. Take her to your rooms, little one, and don’t fear for her or Mai Mou any longer. Your troubles are nearly over, I’m sure.”
So Nor Ghai smiled also, and led her two friends away. The last we ever saw of them were their pretty forms toddling up the passage with their pretty faces turned over their shoulders to smile upon us. Then the tapestry hid them and they were gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE POOL OF THE DEVIL FISH
THAT EVENING, being unable to sleep, we sat up late, packing our booty into the chests furnished by the eunuch. They were light and strong and so closely did the gems pack that we were able to get our ivories and some other valuable ornaments into an extra case. Before we went to bed all the boxes were tightly nailed, wound with cords, and the cords sealed with wax. As the seals bore the impression of Prince Kai’s signet ring I felt sure they would be respected.
Next morning we sent for Wi-to, and when he appeared, looking still a bit “groggy,” as Archie expressed it, we told him the story we had invented to suit our necessity.
“Mai Lo is dead,” I began.
The Chief Eunuch started.
“You have killed him?” he asked.
“No; he committed suicide.”
“Impossible!”
“So I would have said had I not seen it,” I answered, gravely. “And perhaps, after all, the governor did not intend to fulfil his duty so hastily. Sit down, Wi-to, and listen to the story.”
He sat down, but looked incredulous and uneasy.
“While you were ill yesterday,” I began, “we went out to take a walk.”
“With the governor’s soldiers guarding every door?” he asked.
“Why, you yourself have said there were secret passages that the governor did not know of. You must not forget, sir, that we are the trusted friends and emissaries of Prince Kai Lun Pu.”
This may or may not have satisfied him. Anyhow, he said nothing but looked at me inquiringly.
“We wandered through the grounds, trying not to meet anyone,” I continued, “until we came to the great pool by the rocks which your people say is inhabited by the devil-fish.”
“It is true,” said Wi-to. “I, myself, have seen the monster.”
I was much relieved to hear this, for it made my invention seem more plausible.
“While we stood looking into the pool,” said I, “the governor suddenly stepped from the grove of trees nearby and advanced toward us. He held a naked scimitar in his hand, such as his soldiers use, and he seemed very angry. He reproached us for making the acquaintence of his wife and daughter and for opposing his soldiers, and declared we should not escape him again.”
This struck the enuuch as quite reasonable. He began to look interested.
“We were angry, and argued with him,” I went on, “and while we were quarreling Mai Lo suddenly gave a loud cry. We looked around and saw the great ape called Fo-Chu, the King, leaping toward us from the grove.”
I paused and Wi-to said:
“He escaped from the pagoda several days ago, and could not be found.”
“We were all frightened,” said I, “for the beast seemed feirce and excited. The governor alone was armed, and as Fo-Chu bounded forward Mai Lo thrust out the scimitar and ran it through the ape’s body. But Fo-Chu drew the blade from his own breast, swung it in the air, and with one blow severed the governor’s head from his shoulders. Then the ape seized the body and leaped into the pool with it, and both sank quickly beneath the black waters. I am quite sure the beast was dying at the time, and perhaps the devil-fish grabbed them, for neither one came to the surface again.”
As I finished the yarn the Chief Eunuch coughed and looked puzzled.
“But although the bodies were gone,” I added, “the head of Mai Lo remained upon the ground where it had fallen.”
“Here it is,” announced Archie, “we used to call him old Death’s-Head, and may be it is appropriate,” and holding the horrible thing in his hand, he advanced and laid it at the eunuch’s feet.
Wi-to grew pale and stared into the placid face of his enemy. Mai Lo stared back at him, and I could not see that the beady eyes or parchment face had changed at all in death.
“Ugh!” said the eunuch, turning away. “It is certain the man is dead. But who will believe your story?”
“You will, to begin with,” said I, confidently, “and you will make others believe it.”
“How?”
I brought some rice-paper, brush and ink from the cabinet, where there was a store of such material, and laid them on the table.
“Write the words I shall give you, in Chinese, as Mai Lo would have written them,” I said.
The eunuch smiled as if suddenly enlightened, and accepted the task cheerfully.
“‘Wishing to die, as it is my duty to do,’”I dictated, “‘I have loosed the Sacred Ape and trusted myself to his avenging hand. If I am dead after we have met, all the world will know that Mai Lo, Governor of Kwang-Kai-Nong and the trusted servant of Prince Kai Lun Pu, who lies with his ancestors, has done his full duty.”
Wi-to nodded like an automaton and wrote with much skill upon the paper, beginning at one of the bottom corners of the sheet and working up.
The Chinese characters were neat and uniform, and when the document was finished Wi-to laid down the brush with a sigh of content.
“I have not used your words,” said he, “but I have used the idea. And the signature,” he added, with a sly leer, “is the signature of Mai Lo himself. I will now go and exhibit the head and the paper, and salute Mai Tchin as the new governor.”
So eager was he that he caught up the head by its queue and dragged the grinning trophy away with him without having it wrapped into a neat parcel, as I had intended should be done.
Wi-to might not believe our story, but he was assuredly glad to be rid of his long-standing foe, and we had given the wily eunuch the clew that would enable him to deceive anyone who might be interested in knowing how the governor met his death.
I have beside me, as I write, a clipping from the Hong-Kong Gazette announcing the death of the Governor of the Province of Kwang-Kai-Nong. It states that he committed suicide according to Shinto requirements, owing to the premature death of his master, Prince Kai Lun Pu, late Viceroy of the Imperial Chinese Empire.
Within an hour we left our rooms and ventured to walk out into the palace and wander in the grounds again. The soldiers had all been withdrawn and the palace eunuchs made humble obeisance to us as we passed.
There was no excitement apparent around the palace.
The artisans were busy with their tasks and the gardeners pruned and weeded as deliberately as ever. But when we descended the mound we heard a loud chorus of moans proceeding from the governor’s house, and knew that his death was now publicly recognized.
The place was getting decidedly distasteful to us, and that evening we told Wi-to that we had performed all the requests of Prince Kai and wanted to return to Shanghai at once. He replied that he was sorry to have us go, but appreciated the fact that the unpleasant incidents of our visit must outweigh with us the pleasure we had had. Next morning we were waited upon by the new governor, who received us in the state apartment of the palace. We found him a weak, undecided young man, who seemed frightfully nervous at his sudden accession to power and eager to get rid of us. We explained to him the terms of our contract with his father, Mai Lo, and while we did not mention the ten thousand taels, we insisted upon a proper escort to Ichang and payment of all the expenses of the trip back to Shanghai. He agreed to every demand with alacrity, and I could see he was in positive terror of the “foreign devils.”
Within forty-eight hours the arrangements were all completed and the train of elephants, horses and attendants gathered in the open space before the palace. The eunuchs carried down our heavy cases and loaded them upon the elephants, and while the bearers must have thought
them tremendously heavy they dared not complain, and the Chief Eunuch’s suspicions were in no way aroused.
Wi-to seemed really grieved to lose his guests, and we thanked him cordially for his hospitality and parted from him, both he and we expressing the utmost good will.
Our escort was led by a very polite fellow, who spoke amusing pigeon-English and had evidently been instructed by Mai Tchin to show us especial deference and obey our slightest command.
The result was that we met with little annoyance from the natives along the route, and reached Ichang with our entire treasure intact, after a very agreeable journey.
There we left our elephants and horses and boarded the steamer for Shanghai, taking with us merely an escort of a dozen soldiers. These richly dressed warriors commanded sufficient respect to insure our safety on the trip.
At Shanghai Uncle Naboth was waiting for us, and the dear old fellow was overjoyed at our safe return.
“Got any treasure?” he asked.
We pointed to the sealed packing-cases which the porters were laboriously unloading.
“There’s enough there, Uncle,” I whispered, “to make us all rich as Rockefeller — if we can get it safe aboard the Seagull.”
“Why, we’ll hire a special steamer to transport it to Woosung,” he declared; and knowing Mr. Perkins as we did we were all relieved when the treasure had been turned over to his care.
We met Dr. Gaylord in Shanghai, and he was still “out of a job.” He seemed amazed that we had returned safely from our adventure and asked us a thousand questions which we answered discreetly, without telling him too much. But he was a good-hearted old fellow, and had been of much service to us before his courage had failed him and led him to desert our cause. Remembering this, I placed a small packet in his hands when we parted at the wharf and asked him not to open it until after we had gone.
I hope it helped the good doctor to buy that farm in England which he so much desired; for although the packet merely contained what Archie described as “some of the loose plunder that was in our pockets,” it ought to have been sufficient to set the doctor up for life.
Fortunately there are no customs officials at the port of Woosung, and our chartered steamer puffed directly to the side of the Seagull and loaded us and our treasure on our own craft.
We received a joyful welcome from my father and the officers and crew, you may be sure, and before we had told all of our story we were well out at sea and were homeward bound.
I have often wondered if our visits to the Ancestral Halls of the House of Kai have ever been discovered, or the treasure we abstracted at the instance of the Prince ever missed.
But from the far-away Province of Kwang-Kai-Nong to the deck of the wandering Seagull is a far cry, and it is unlikely we shall ever know what happened in Kai-Nong after our departure.
Since that time we “Boy Fortune Hunters” have been through many other experiences, not all rewarded with equal profit, but, I can assure you, quite as thrilling; and some of these I purpose to relate at another time. Some of our earlier adventures, such as those with which we entertained the dying Prince Kai, may be read in the other volumes of Sam Steele’s Adventures.
THE BOY FORTUNE HUNTERS IN YUCATAN
The Boy Fortune Hunters in Yucatan, published by Reilly & Britton in 1910, was Baum’s fifth in a series appearing under the pseudonym, Floyd Akers. Once again, Sam Steele and his friends are after a vast treasure, this time among the people of Tcha, a city in the remote jungles of Yucatan, founded by a tribe from the lost continent of Atlantis. Throughout this adventurous tale, the boys must deal with dangers, including a violent earthquake, inter-tribal warfare, and betrayal by allies.
A first edition copy of The Boy Fortune Hunters in Yucatan
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 1
WE MEET LIEUTENANT ALLERTON
“What do you say, Sam, to making a stop at Magdalena Bay?” asked Uncle Naboth, as we stood on the deck of the Seagull, anchored in Golden Gate Harbor.
“Magdalena!” I exclaimed; “why, it’s a wilderness.”
“I know,” he replied; “but the torpedo fleet is there, doin’ target practice, an’ Admiral Seebre has asked us to drop some mail an’ dispatches there, as well as a few supplies missed by the transport that left last Tuesday.”
“Oh, Admiral Seebre,” I rejoined. “That puts a different face on the matter. We’ll stop anywhere the admiral wants us to.” Merchantmen though we are, none of us can fail in genuine admiration for Uriel Seebre, the most typical sea dog on earth — or on water, rather.
So we waited to ship the supplies and mail, and by sunset were shrouded in golden glory as we slowly steamed out of the harbor and headed south.
It’s a pretty trip. Past old Santa Barbara, the man-made harbor of San Pedro — the port of Los Angeles — and along the coast of beautiful Coronado, we hugged the shore line to enjoy the splendid panorama of scenery; but once opposite the Mexican coast we stood out to sea until, three days afterward, we made Magdalena Bay and dropped anchor amid the rakish, narrow-nosed fleet of the torpedo flotilla.
There isn’t much to see at Magdalena. The bay itself is fairly attractive, but the shore is uninteresting and merely discloses a motley group of frame and adobe huts. Yet here the Pacific Squadron comes semiannually to practice target shooting.
As it was four o’clock when our anchor reeled out we decided to lie in the bay until sunrise next morning. We signaled “mail and supplies” and two boats put out from the Paul Jones, the flagship of the miniature but formidable fleet, and soon boarded us. They were in charge of Lieutenant Paul Allerton, whom we found a very decent fellow without a hint of that contempt for merchantmen affected by so many Annapolis fledglings.
We soon had the stores lowered — they were not many — and delivered the mail pouch and dispatch box, getting a formal receipt for them. As supercargo and purser, I attended to this business personally.
“I’m glad to have met you, Mr. Steele,” said Lieutenant Allerton, “and to have seen your famous boat, the Seagull. We’ve heard a good deal of your curious adventures, you know.”
I laughed, and Uncle Naboth Perkins, who stood beside me, remarked:
“Our days of adventure are about over, I guess, Mr. Allerton.”
“Have you bagged so much treasure you are ready to retire?” asked the officer.
“It isn’t that,” replied my uncle. “We’ve been tramps a long time, an’ sailed in many seas; but the life’s a bit too strenuous for us, so’s to speak. These boys o’ ours are reckless enough to git us inter a heap o’ trouble, an’ keep us there, too, if we didn’t call a halt. So, seein’ as life counts for more ‘n anything else, Cap’n Steele an’ I hev made the youngsters turn over a new leaf. We’re now on our way to the Atlantic, ‘round the Horn, an’ perpose to do peaceful tradin’ from now on.”
Allerton listened with thoughtful interest. He seemed on the point of saying something in return, but hesitated and then touched his cap.
“I must be going, gentlemen. You know how grateful we exiles are for the mail and tinned stuff, and I tender the thanks of the fleet for your courtesy.”
Then he went away and we considered the incident closed.
We were a strang
ely assorted group as we congregated on the deck of our beautiful craft, the Seagull, after dinner that evening, and perhaps here is an excellent opportunity to introduce ourselves to the reader.
Our ship, which we believe has been termed “the pride of the merchant marine,” was constructed under our personal supervision, and sails or steams as we desire. It is about a thousand tons burden, yacht built, and as trim as a man-o’-war. It is commanded by my father, Captain Richard Steele, one of the most experienced and capable sailors of his time. He is one-third owner, and I have the same interest, being proud to state that I furnished my share of the money from funds I had personally earned. Uncle Naboth Perkins, my dead mother’s only brother, owns the remaining third.
Uncle Naboth is a “natural bom trader” and a wonder in his way. He isn’t a bit of a practical sailor, but has followed the seas from his youth and has won the confidence and esteem of every shipper who ever entrusted a cargo to his care. He has no scholastic learning, but is very wise in mercantile ways and is noted for his sterling honesty.
My father has a wooden leg; he is old and his face resembles ancient parchment. He uses words only for necessary expression, yet his reserve is neither morose nor disagreeable. He knows how to handle the Seagull in any emergency and his men render him alert obedience because they know that he knows.
I admit that I am rather young to have followed the seas for so long. I can’t well object to being called a boy, because I am a boy in years, and experience hasn’t made my beard grow or added an inch to my height. My position on the Seagull is that of purser and assistant supercargo. In other words, I keep the books, check up the various cargoes, render bills and pay our expenses. I know almost as little of navigation as Uncle Naboth, who is the most important member of our firm because he makes all our contracts with shippers and attends to the delivery of all cargoes.
Over against the rail stands Ned Britton, our first mate. Ned is father’s right bower. They have sailed together many years and have acquired a mutual understanding and respect. Ned has been thoroughly tested in the past: a blunt, bluff sailor-man, as brave as a lion and as guileless as a babe. His strong point is obeying orders and doing his duty on all occasions.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 698