XIII
Lanny went down the ladder, the bags were handed to him, and the women followed. The cellar was about eight feet square and six feet high. There were several boxes and on these they sat. The trapdoor was closed and they heard the sacks being moved over it. Then the place was pitch dark, and so the women could set about their dressing. They could not keep from giggling over the extraordinary appearance they were going to present to all China. In the Middle Ages in Europe crusaders setting off to the wars had devised what were called “chastity belts” to put upon their wives and lock fast. Presumably what this pair were now putting on might be called “unchastity belts,” though Lanny wouldn’t venture that jest until he knew them better. He kept a proper silence and pretended not to know that the women were shaking with laughter.
Laurel groped her way to him and sat by his side. He put one arm about her, and with his other hand he took one of hers; that was their honeymoon, just to sit there, and know that one problem at least was settled for life. They wouldn’t have to play any more games, or practice more coquetry. She was his, and he was hers, and it was wonderfully soothing and pleasant. Now and then he would think of that odd attachment to her costume, and would grin unseen; he wouldn’t for the world make any move to investigate it, for though she was his lawful wedded wife she was still the decorous Southern lady. He was, however, privileged to press her hand and to hold her closer to him, and this he did. It was a way of repeating the words she had been so determined to hear; words so simple and obvious, yet which never become a cliché: “I love you.”
Now and then they would feel the earth shake beneath them. They were closer to it than they had ever been before, and these artificial earthquakes went through them as if they were a part of the earth, never individualized, never set free. Each time he felt the shudder pass through her body, magnified by her nervous system. After an especially heavy explosion she whispered into his ear: “Lanny, promise me something.”
“What is it, dear?”
“Whatever happens, you won’t try to resist.”
“No, of course not. I have no weapon.”
“I mean, whatever they do to me. They would kill you if you did.”
“You know what they may do to you, dear?”
“I know. But whatever it is, you must not move, not even speak. Without you I do not want to live. Promise me.”
“All right,” he whispered. His thoughts were grim; for to rape the women in the presence of the men had been one of the methods whereby the Sons of Heaven had been manifesting their superiority to the white race.
Perhaps half an hour passed, and they heard sounds overhead. The sacks were being dragged away, and the trapdoor opened. It couldn’t be time for the boat; could it be that the enemy had come? They did not move, they hardly dared breathe—until they heard the soft voice of their friend the silk merchant. “Paintings,” he said, and by faint light Lanny saw the reliable Ho sliding a large roll into the opening. Lanny took it, and found that it was wrapped in strong cloth and tied. He understood that the old gentleman had had his precious paintings taken out of their frames and rolled up. He eased the burden gently down to the ground and rolled it into a corner. “O.K.,” said the host, and the trapdoor was let down again.
After that there was no way to keep track of time. They were in the hands of fate—or was it the stars, as the ancient Greeks and Egyptians had imagined? Lanny, who had always proceeded on the theory that it was better to be happy than sad, used the time to supply that deficiency which the lady from Baltimore had noted in his conduct. He had her hand, and the hand is a means whereby through uncounted ages the human organism has conducted investigations and made discoveries. The gentlest pressures can reveal the most intimate secrets; and when Lanny put her hand to his lips and kept it there, she wasn’t left in the slightest doubt as to what he meant. It wasn’t a marriage of convenience, and it wasn’t just a preliminary to psychic research.
Althea had politely seated herself as far away as possible inside an eight-foot square. Being a qualified doctor, she knew all the facts of life, but that made no difference in the proprieties. This innocent little courtship had to be carried on without the faintest trace of sound: not a murmur, not a sigh, not a movement of the lips—otherwise Laurel would have been disturbed by the thought that Althea would be disturbed. Those laws of modesty, of reticence, of propriety, were harder than any steel. But hand can move upon hand without betrayal, and a man’s hand can touch a woman’s breast and tell it all the things he has neglected to tell in times past. Both of them knew that his hand might be shot off within the hour, that her breast might be pierced by sharp steel; but these few minutes were safe, and precious with a loveliness which Nature had been preparing for hundreds of millions of years, so that her purposes might not fail of accomplishment and that life might be renewed even in the very presence of death.
XIV
Time passed, and the earth shaking grew more violent; the explosions were surely nearer. But there was nothing they could do about it. If that shed caught fire, could they manage to lift the trapdoor with the sacks on top? Lanny doubted it. The cellar would gradually grow hotter, and they would be baked alive. They put their trust in Mr. Foo; but suppose that he was killed by a shell? There was nothing to be done but to draw a little closer and hold each other a little tighter.
At last, sounds over their heads again! The sacks were being moved. Once more it was the question: friend or foe? The door was lifted, and the voice of Mr. Foo said: “Come quick!” They went up the ladder, the two pregnant ladies in Chinese trousers and jackets, and then the man. Night had come, but their host had a small flashlight, and Lanny got a glimpse of the two female forms, and he saw it was a perfect illusion. Evidently the Number One Mrs. Foo had also known the facts of life, and they were the same here as in the western half of the world.
“Fog very good,” declared the old man. “Boat come soon. You follow Ho, he take you quick. Very quiet, may be anywhere monkey man.”
All three wrung his hand and thanked him. He said: “I am old man, you young. Go quick. Good luck.”
The reliable servant tucked one of the ladies’ bags under each arm, and Lanny carried the small bundle of possessions he had managed to accumulate while driving the lorry in Hongkong. They went, half running, through the beautiful gate—“To and From the World Gate” was its name—and struck out across a field. Presently they were following a hedge row; the man in front stopped now and then to listen, and they all held their breaths. The fog was thick, and drifting slowly; you could feel it cool against your face. Other creatures were moving that night, but whether they were friend or foe, or perhaps animals, could not be known. The fugitives moved, lifting their feet carefully; the women were wearing Chinese canvas shoes, their leather shoes being in the bags.
Presently they came to a gully, and after listening, they slid down into it. There were many stones, which made hard walking; but there was a trace of a path, and they followed it by putting a hand on the shoulder of the person ahead. Much stopping and listening, and suddenly the guide whispered: “Yat pun jai!”—which means Japanese dwarfs. He led them to one side, where they crouched against the side of the bank, partly hidden by bushes. They heard sounds of men walking, and presently there came a file up the gully, evidently trying to move silently. They might be enemy troops or they might be British—there was no guessing. They passed, and it was still again, and the journey was resumed.
Lanny guessed that this gully would lead them to the sea, and so it proved. The slope diminished, the ground became wet, and presently it was a stream, and they were following a path along its side. When they stopped to listen they heard gurgling water, and before long they realized that it was lapping waves. They couldn’t see ten feet in front of them, but there was an open feeling, perhaps a matter of sound echoes; they knew they were facing the sea. They went a short way along the shore and stopped at a small platform, wet and slimy, perhaps used to haul a fishing boat u
pon. This was the place, and the guide took them a few feet back into the bushes, where they crouched and waited.
How any junk was going to find the spot in that dense fog was a mystery to the Occidental mind. But Lanny had read somewhere that the Chinese had invented the compass, and he hoped they hadn’t forgotten its use. Anyhow, there was nothing to do but wait. Althea knew a few words of Cantonese, the dialect spoken in this part of the Country, entirely different from Mandarin spoken in the northern and central parts. She translated to the others what Ho said: “Boat maybe.” It seemed like a slim chance, but their lives depended upon it. If daylight found them crouching here, they would have a hard time escaping.
XV
Soon there came over the water what they took to be the sound of sails being lowered. A Chinese junk has lateen sails, which means that there are parallel strips of bamboo all the way across. When these come down they make considerable noise. Apparently this was a shallow cove, and the vessel was being poled in. There was the sound of an anchor rope being paid out, and presently a tiny skiff appeared at the platform—a craft barely large enough for one passenger and the man who poled or paddled.
This was the fisherman to whom their fate was entrusted. They saw him only as a shadowy form. He exchanged a few whispered words with Ho, and the latter put a packet of money into his hands. Lanny gave the faithful servant a proper cumshaw, and then got into the rickety little skiff. He was going first, so as to preclude the possibility of the junk sailing off with the two women. He climbed onto the deck and stood waiting while first Laurel and then Althea were brought on board. The skiff was lifted in, and while the rest of the crew pulled up the anchor, the fisherman signed to his passengers to follow.
Lanny could see almost nothing of this junk, but he had seen them by the hundreds in the South China Sea and in Hongkong harbor. They have curved prows and a high poop, and Lanny guessed that this was a small one, perhaps thirty feet long. They entered through a doorway so low that they had to stoop; a hatchway was lifted and they went down a companionway that was almost a ladder. They were in a part of the hold, and remembered what Mr. Foo had said: “Bad smell.” He had been a good prophet. Fish nets had been stored here, perhaps for decades, and the stench was strong; the three would smell of fish for the rest of their visit to China. But then, what are a few fish or a million fish compared to all the conglomerate smells of the Orient? Nothing to sneeze at.
Some boxes were to be their bed, and behind them they could hide in case of alarm. There was a pile of nets and another of gunny sacks, and they might pull these over themselves and escape detection in case the Japs came aboard. The fisherman explained this, in words which Althea said she was able to understand. The man added: “I am old-time Party member. You friends Madame Sun.” The magic still worked!
They lay in utter darkness, and listened to the sounds of the anchor being pulled up and the sails being set. Then their bed became tilted, and they knew that the vessel was under way. They could feel the vibration of the waves hitting the planking. They could imagine a sailing vessel sliding through this black fog, and could only pray that the compass was true. Of course the fisherman would know these waters as a dog knows its own yard; southeast through the East Lamma Channel, and then, after passing the islands that lie east of Hongkong, northeast along the coast.
It was safe to talk now, and Lanny leaned toward his bride, saying: “At least the astrologer is licked. I am not going to die in Hongkong.”
“Don’t say that!” she whispered, still afraid of the fates. “We are not out of danger yet.”
“Near Hongkong or around Hongkong, perhaps—but not in Hongkong, or on it!”
BOOK SEVEN
An Ancient Tale of Wrong
25
Looking over Wasted Lands
I
There were no means or guessing how long tha voyage to the continent of Asia might last; and at any moment it might be interrupted by a crash upon rocks or a shot from a Japanese war vessel. There was no longer any reason for silence, so they discussed these and other possibilities: what they were likely to find when they were put ashore, what means of travel they would use, what course they would take. Althea, who knew the country, would be the captain of the expedition, and she gave them a series of lectures on life in subtropical China. When they were tired, they stretched themselves on hard planks with the duffelbags for pillows. The doctor again removed herself to a discreet distance, but this was not necessary, for it was no time or place for a bridal night.
Hand in hand Lanny and his new wife lay, and part of the time they dozed, or thought about the strange adventure of their times; they shared in mind the agony of a civilization undergoing assault from organized banditry. Long ago Trudi Schultz had remarked to Lanny that it was a bad time to be born. That had certainly proved true for her, and now Lanny confronted the possibility that the same dark fate might be hanging over the gentle and sensitive woman who lay by his side. He would be helpless to protect her, alike against the cruelties of nature and those of man: whether a storm were to come up while this sailing craft was crossing a corner of the South China Sea, or whether it were to be boarded by primitive barbarians armed with the instruments of killing devised by modern science.
Hours passed, and more hours. Lanny had his watch, and kept it wound, but he had overlooked the importance of such a small convenience as a box of matches. Perhaps the kind Mr. Foo had put some in the bags, but they did not want to unpack them in this filthy place. They did not think they could keep food on their stomachs here, especially as the junk was now beginning to toss and her timbers to creak. They clung together and talked some more; they agreed that the tossing meant they were out in the open sea, and this meant they were safer from the Japs, if not from the sea. They did not know which to fear more.
What would the fisherman do if a storm came up? What fishermen always did, Lanny said—fight for their lives. They would have to keep away from the coast, unless it was an off-shore wind. Such a wind would blow the fog away, and perhaps expose them to sight of the enemy. Lanny had heard that the British flyers now had a device by which they could see in the dark, by means of radio waves echoed back; whether the Japanese Navy had it, who could guess? Lanny, who had done a lot of sailing and yachting in his fashionable life, noted the slow pitching of the vessel from front to back, and guessed that they were running before a wind. That would speed their journey, but make it harder for them to land.
Althea, the devout soul, revealed that she was praying. She invited them to join her. They had just pledged their marital troth in the presence of the Lord, and in His name; why should they not ask Him to protect them and brine their marriage to fruition? The prayers of three were stronger than those of one; had not Jesus said: “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them”? Althea said the prayer ordained for use in storms at sea. “Oh, most powerful and glorious Lord God,” it begins, “at whose command the winds blow, and lift up the waves of the sea, and who stillest the rage thereof; We, thy creatures, but miserable sinners, do in this our great distress cry unto Thee for help: Save, Lord, or else we perish.” This she repeated, and the others learned it.
To persons who had fallen under the spell of materialistic science and had never been able entirely to escape it, this seemed an infinitely strange procedure. But prolonged anxiety and the sight of death had brought them to the state of little children, and they did what they were told. Presently Althea sang, and again they learned the words:
Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.
II
It has happened many times, as travelers on the sea have come home to testify; but of course there is no testimony from those who did not come home—therefore the testimony is not
found convincing by the devotees of materialistic science. Be that as it may, the slow pitching of the junk gradually diminished, and likewise the creaking of her planking and timbers. The lapping of little waves seemed like dead silence in comparison, and the travelers sat motionless, waiting. Was that the sound of an anchor rope being paid out? Did that mean they were safe in a harbor, or could it be that the vessel had been captured at sea, and that it would be Japanese who opened the trapdoor? Should they cover themselves with the nets and the filthy gunny sacks?
While they hesitated, the trapdoor was opened and a dim light shone in. They heard the voice of the “old-time Party member,” saying the magic phrase which men know all over the earth if they have had any contact with white persons: “O.K., boss!”
So they handed up their belongings and climbed the short ladder. The light was that of a dim lantern, but they could see the figure of their deliverer, and Lanny grasped his hand and patted him on the back and said: “Good fellow! O.K. fellow!” The three passengers were so happy they hugged each other; that is, Lanny hugged Laurel, and she passed it on to Althea. It was really a remarkable occasion; and when you have condescended to pray and sing a hymn, you can surely afford to laugh and shout for a while.
They were escorted to the open deck, and discovered that dawn was breaking. They could see that they were in a little cove, and that there was a flat shore. The fisherman pointed and said: “Hou fang!” Althea translated: “The Rear”—which was their phrase for “Free China.” So of course they wanted to get there quickly. Lanny presented a proper cumshaw to all members of the crew—three besides the captain—and shook hands with them. He asked Althea to make plain to them that America was now in the war on China’s side. These weather-beaten men of the sea beamed with pleasure, and said: “Come soon!” They made it plain that they wanted none of the Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere.
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