Robbie Taggart

by Michael Phillips

  His flustered emotions finally calmed and he turned his attention to the many questions that filled his brain. If Wang had returned, what were his motives in instigating riots against the missionaries? Had he forgotten the old animosities, or was he still intent on seeking his promised revenge?

  Robbie looked into the old missionary’s solemn eyes. He clearly perceived that Isaiah considered his wife’s former suitor still a threat, perhaps now more than ever. Yet whatever Wang’s reasons for withholding, or postponing his vengeance, Robbie knew that God would somehow use them for His purposes.

  He recalled Wallace’s words to him of long ago: “One day, Robbie, you’re going to give God thanks for taking your hand. Whenever you think of it you’re going to praise Him, because that’s how He showed you the depths of His love.”

  Silently Robbie prayed, “Oh, Lord, whatever this news does for us, give me strength to face it by your might not my own. And bring Isaiah’s words to fulfillment in my heart, Lord. I do thank you for what has happened. Yet increase my thankfulness, Lord. And deepen still further my trust in you.”

  60

  How the Mighty Have Fallen

  The old building used to be one of Nanking’s seamier opium dens. But the run-down structure had been boarded up a few years ago because the proprietor had fallen on to hard times and could no longer supply the opium that kept the place in business.

  Pien flicked a cockroach off his frayed and worn pant leg and could not help reflecting on the days when he had proudly ridden fine stallions and reclined in rich apartments on silk cushions. Perhaps he ought to be thankful Wang still owned this rat-infested hovel or they’d likely have even worse accommodations.

  He asked himself why he was still here at all, but the answer was easy. After that fiasco in Wukiang ten years ago, the British had wanted blood—one does not kidnap the adopted daughter of a missionary (curse that fellow who had tried to tell him the girl was not legally adopted!) and then seriously wound and maim a British subject, without incurring the mortal wrath of the pompous foreigners.

  Most of Wang’s army had fled after the incident, some out of fear of reprisal; but most had deserted simply because Wang had lost face in their sight. Pien surely would have been among them, but unfortunately his name was too closely associated with that of Wang. He had, as a result, known it would not be easy to escape the clutches of the authorities. Besides, a part of Pien truly did admire Wang’s cunning, even after his shameful defeat, and knew that in the end he would triumph over his troubles. Thus, when Wang was caught and arrested, Pien had the misfortune to still be with the warlord. It was just lucky for him that the name Wang still carried some influence, and banishment instead of death had been the punishment meted out.

  After ten years of an exile that was supposed to have been for a lifetime, the bandit had been able to bribe his way back into the country. The bribe had ruined him financially, but he swore over and over that it would be worth every ounce of silver and gold when the filthy British sailor had paid for Wang’s lost honor.

  Pien glanced over at his master where he slept on the tattered straw mat in the far corner of the room. Ah, pity that poor sailor when Wang gets his hands on him! The fallen warlord would show no mercy on him, even if he was now crippled and an unworthy adversary.

  All at once a clatter behind the closed door caught Pien’s attention. He tensed, grabbing his pistol at the same time.

  “Who is it?” asked the former lieutenant sharply.

  “It’s me, you lubber!” came a gravelly, menacing voice. “Open the door!”

  Another foreign devil! thought Pien disdainfully. And this one-legged seaman was the lowest of the lot! Why Wang kept him around, Pien could not guess. He supposed the two must find a certain camaraderie in their shared hatreds. The worst of it was that it had been Pike who had struck the decisive blow in the battle with Taggart. A coward he certainly wasn’t, but in every other respect he was a miserable excuse for a human being!

  Pien hitched his frame up from the rickety chair and shuffled toward the door. He unlatched the lock and Benjamin Pike unceremoniously pushed his way in. His cavernous, yellowed eyes glanced quickly around the room, finally resting on Wang’s sleeping figure.

  “What’s he still sleeping for?” said Pike, dropping a cloth sack on the only table in the dingy room. “I thought we was going to be gone by nightfall?”

  “We are!” shouted Wang, now stirring on his mat. “I want out of this place!” He flung the blanket off his husky frame, which gave little evidence of the hardships of the past ten years, and heaved himself to his feet. “And what has taken you so long?” he said, striding to the table and ripping open the sack.

  “Don’t ye shout at me, ye blag’ard!” retorted Pike. “Why’d ye send me out for supplies in the first place? I can’t say a word in the stinkin’ language, and I near ran headlong into a brigade of British soldiers.”

  “At the moment,” replied Wang impatiently, “you are freer to roam about, even with your crude tongue and absurd leg! Now, what is this about soldiers?”

  “What do ye think? They captured me and hung me from a gallows!” replied Pike with a smirk. “What ye see before ye is an angel of mercy! Ha, ha!”

  “Shut up, you fool!” Wang reached a fleshy hand into the sack and pulled out a bottle. At least the idiot bought a good rice wine, he thought. The Shaohing vintage was the only Chinese brew that could pass the tongue without repulsion. He pulled the cork, and bringing the bottle to his lips, drank deeply.

  “These troops,” Wang continued, wiping a sleeve across his mouth; “you are certain you were not observed and followed?”

  “O’ course I am! They was too busy guarding them missions you ransacked and tried to burn.”

  “You make it sound as if I were solely responsible for the deed,” mused the warlord. “As in Wuhu, I was but a part of a riotous mob, caught up in the righteous fervor for the rescue of my country from the evil foreigners.”

  “Jist don’t let none o’ them true patriots see that ye be sharing yer wine with one of them very devils ye say ye hate!” Pike grabbed the bottle from Wang and took a greedy swig.

  “You insolent pig!” cursed Wang, as he wrenched the bottle away from Pike.

  The violent action pitched the aging one-legged ex-sea captain off balance, and he tumbled to the grimy floor. The next instant his crutch was in his hand and he swung it violently at Wang.

  “You yellow-skinned—” he yelled, but before he could finish, Wang caught the crutch and shoved it into Pike’s face. When Pike recovered himself he was still screaming. “I’ll kill you!” he shrieked, trying to climb back to his feet, but the warlord was in possession of the crutch now, and Pike was forced to crawl on his hands and knees to get at his adversary.

  Laughing wickedly, Wang tossed the crutch across the room. Nothing gave him greater pleasure, now that his once-proud domain was reduced to these two slimy river-rats, than to see Pike helplessly dragging his crippled body across the floor to where his crutch lay. Yes, he had kept the old fool around like a cheap bauble on a chain. But his actions did not spring from love, that much was certain. His hatred of foreigners had not wavered, and in fact had only been fired all the more since his troubles began at that cursed monastery ten years ago. But even if he despised white men, he was not above using them to his advantage. He could even see a certain twisted form of his own brand of justice in the action.

  Pien now delicately cleared his throat, hoping to restore some peace again to the premises. “What is there to eat?” he asked, peeking into the sack Pike had brought in.

  In the meantime, Wang dropped his thick body into a chair, while Pike, having retrieved his crutch, limped to a bench that sat against the far wall, and sat there quietly, hunched over, sulking privately.

  The two had fought in this manner for ten years, Wang treating Pike like yesterday’s gruel, and Pike daily threatening to take Wang’s life. Upon countless occasions Pike had limped out of wh
atever hovel they happened to be in, vowing never again to lay eyes on the fat, yellow moron. But the miserable sea captain had always returned, perhaps thinking, and rightly so, that his only hope of getting safely back into China was through Wang. And Wang had always received his enemy back into his company. They each possessed a common goal, an obsession: Pien believed they would keep company even with the devil, if that was what it took to see a final end to their common enemy, the sailor Taggart.

  That goal would be reached soon enough, and none would be happier than Pien. He was a rational man, and this craziness was beginning to wear on him, not to mention the ridiculous accommodations! But things were looking up. Since Wang’s return, he had been working to rebuild his strength and power. He had established a small band of cut-throats in the mountains, but after the fiasco in Wukiang had determined that he would have to use different methods in the future. Pien supposed his involvement of late in anti-foreign activities must have something to do with that. He was certainly being paid handsomely by that circle of wealthy noblemen to instigate trouble. And money was one thing Wang needed more than anything just now.

  “Pien!” shouted Wang after a lengthy pause. “Prepare us a meal! And quickly! There is much to do before we leave.”

  Pien shuffled toward the stove, purposefully taking his time. He threw a couple sticks of wood in, then stirred around the nearly dead ashes, thinking that he had risked too much to continue to accept his servant status indefinitely. It had better all change after this Wukiang business is concluded, he thought bitterly. If it were up to him he would forget all about Wukiang and Taggart and the whole stupid lot of them. The insane obsession that drove both Pike and Wang could only breed trouble.

  The lieutenant stirred the embers to life. He had begun to feel as if he were the only sane man around. It was good he kept sight of reality, for Wang was beginning to lose his grip. If I keep my wits about me, thought Pien selfishly, I will be the likely candidate to take charge of things when Wang finally goes over the edge, however matters fall in Wukiang. Let Wang enjoy his petty revenge—he will end up with little else!

  While Pien was thus massaging his vast ego, Benjamin Pike had managed to recover at least a small portion of his lost dignity. He lifted his head and hatefully eyed Wang, who was at the moment absorbed in his rice wine and took no notice of the Britisher’s evil stare. The overconfident blackguard! thought Pike, cursing silently. As if I need him now that I’m safely in China again!

  But even Pike’s degenerated mind could see that his wishful statement was far from true. Of course he still did need the lubbering fool! He couldn’t speak the blasted language, and if he tried to get about alone he’d only draw attention to himself. But if that miserable rat tried to push him around again, he’d sooner try his luck outside. Nobody probably cared about him anymore—the British were no doubt long past caring about following his track. With a bit of a disguise and a change of name . . .

  Then he glanced at his wooden stump. How do ye disguise that? he said to himself. I’ll do it some way, and I’ll get Robbie on me own! What’d I need Wang for anyway? Although it would be nice to get ’em both! Ha, ha! That’d show the whole lot of ’em! I ain’t no has-been!

  The old skipper’s eyes glistened as he recalled something he had heard earlier on the streets.

  “I forgots to tell ye somethin’,” he barked in a sly tone.

  Wang’s head shot up. His eyes were dull and bleary; the wine was having its effect on his senses.

  “I heard a fellow use your name,” Pike continued in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “What!” cried Wang. He had taken great pains to keep his identity carefully cloaked even from the men who were paying him. The name of Wang could not be associated with this present work, for it must not get back to Wukiang that he was afoot—not yet at least. They must suspect nothing. When he finally struck the mission, it must be believed to have been merely the act of riotous anti-foreign mobs. He would not be implicated this time—there would be no one after him, no banishments.

  “How do you know this?” Wang demanded. “There are many with my name.”

  “I know enough of your cursed babble to know when the once-great bandit, Wang K’ung-wu, is mentioned—”

  “Why you—” seethed Wang, rising ominously though unsteadily from his chair.

  Now Pike laughed.

  “An’ I thought ye’d be glad to hear ye was still remembered after all these years!”

  In two lumbering strides Wang reached Pike and had his hands at the smaller man’s throat. “If you have betrayed me—” He let his tightening hands complete the threat for him.

  “W—why would I do such a thing?” Pike squeaked. “If the great Wang is betrayed, I am betrayed.”

  Wang loosened his grip.” What was said? Who spoke of me?”

  “I only understood your name and the word tsei. Does that not mean robber?”

  “Why were they speaking of me?” asked Wang, knowing he would get no answer from the ignorant seaman. He let go of Pike and returned to his wine.

  Pike brushed at his crumpled shirt as if the worn and filthy fabric were fine linen. “If I’d known ye’d take on so, I wouldn’t ’ave said nothin’.” His triumphant eyes, however, said that he had thoroughly relished seeing the warlord caught so off his guard.

  “If you lie, Pike—!”

  “Well, ain’t that gratitude! I should have kept me mouth shut! But then I figure we need each other—an’ no matter how much you bluster an’ shout, Wang, you can’t deny you need me.”

  “Ha!” retorted Wang. “Why would I need the likes of a lizard like you? I think your demented mind has mistaken my benevolence.”

  “Oh, I ain’t mistaken nothin’! You need me because it’s me what’s going to hand you Robbie Taggart on a platter. Only I can do it, and ye knows it!”

  “Do I now . . . ? And just how do you intend on doing that?”

  Pike leaned forward, rubbing his hands eagerly together. He suddenly forgot about all his animosity toward the warlord, as his prime objective refocused itself in his brain. Simply maiming the picture-perfect Robbie Taggart had only whetted Pike’s thirst for revenge. Fanned by Wang’s rancor, his hunger to once and for all do away with his nemesis had grown once more into a fevered obsession.

  He had vaguely kept track of Robbie’s activities over the years, and just the fact that he was still with the mission was proof enough that he had cast his lot with them. This came as hardly a surprise to Pike. He had always seen the younger sailor as a hopeless do-gooder.

  Now it would be Taggart’s undoing, and Pike nearly drooled with relish at the thought.

  61

  A Friend in Need

  As the sun set behind the hills toward the west, Robbie and Ruth crossed the bridge leading toward home. They were coming from a visit with Kuo-hwa and several other church members.

  Since the uprising in Wuhu, the spiritual climate around eastern China had steadily degenerated. Though most of the continued troubles were concentrated along the Yangtze valley, the plain of its delta had not gone untouched. Robbie and Wallace had redoubled their efforts to strengthen and unify the body of believers in the district against further testings of their faith. The village people had been genuinely frightened by the news that had begun to leak down from the regions closer to the great river. Missions in Nanking, Protestant and Catholic alike, had been broken into and burned. In Wusueh, two English missionaries had been murdered.

  There had been a few minor flare-ups in the Wukiang district, but Wallace had taken a strong lead in being an example to his flock to pray for and demonstrate charity toward their oppressors. Thus far, such a nonviolent response to the trouble that occasionally arose had been successful; the troublemakers, usually so taken aback by the peaceful responses of their Christian neighbors, had dispersed peacefully without serious incident. Yet the situation remained tense, for though most villagers wanted no part of the trouble, there were still more than a few rabble
-rousers who were caught up in the doings elsewhere, and still others with grievances whose volatile emotions could easily spark an incident.

  “Look over there, Papa,” said Ruth, stopping on the bridge and pointing toward a colorfully decorated small sampan gliding down the river.

  It was a “meeting boat,” in which a groom carried his new bride to the home of her new family. The sight was comforting, for it indicated that the minds and hearts of the village folk were not totally preoccupied with the tumultuous political events of the last weeks and months. A wedding brought hope and joy, and Robbie felt an unrestrained smile rise to his lips. He and Ruth waved as the boat passed beneath them, watching until it turned into the smaller river and disappeared from sight.

  “Ah, lass,” said Robbie thoughtfully as they resumed their walk, “we must never lose sight of God’s promises. ‘We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed!’ He is with us, little Chi-Yueh, we have no need to fear.”

  “I am not afraid, Papa.”

  “I cannot help being a wee bit afraid at times,” replied Robbie, smiling to himself. He could still recall the days when it had not been so easy to make such an admission.

  “Grandfather says that perfect love casts out all fear.”

  “So he does!” Robbie tossed back his head and laughed a free and easy laugh. “He is right, and he has told me those very words many times. We are indeed blessed, Ruth. Come, I’ll race you to the mission!”

  Still laughing, Robbie allowed his giggling daughter several paces lead before jogging after her.

  “I’m about to catch you!” he shouted merrily, but in a concerted burst of effort, Ruth sprinted ahead, and Robbie found he had to work a good deal harder than expected in order to keep pace. She is growing up, he thought. Soon she’ll be able to win in a legitimate race! He let her get to the compound yard first, where he planned to jog up breathlessly behind her, declaring her the fastest girl in Wukiang.