Kobo: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War

by Herbert Strang

  *CHAPTER XXVI*

  *Old Friends and New Prospects*

  Compulsory Leave--Andrew B. Charteris--Looking Ahead--The BusyBee--Smuggling Ah-Sam--Schwab Proposes--A Blessing

  Kobo was buried in a glade among the trees near the fort. Bob placedover the grave a stone from the ravine--a flat slab washed smooth andwhite by the torrent; and upon this Taru scratched a simple inscriptionin Japanese characters. The chief meanwhile had sent men to find thebody of Chang-Wo. What indignities the already mangled corpse mighthave suffered but for Bob's presence need not be told; Bob insisted on adecent burial, and made the chief promise that the grave should not bedesecrated. The dead man's effects were thoroughly examined, and adiscovery was made which threw light on a matter always puzzling toBob--the presence of Chang-Wo in Tokio. Among his belongings were manypapers, charts, and maps of Japan and the surrounding seas, plans of theJapanese ports, memoranda of military details--all probably intended forRussian use in an invasion of the islands, and kept by the Manchu untilhe could depend on getting a good price for them. These Bob made into abundle; then he prepared to return with Taru and Ah-Sam to the Japanesehead-quarters.

  A few days later the services of one of the army doctors with GeneralKuroki's force were required for a young Englishman who had just beenbrought into camp by four coolies, led by a Japanese and a Chinaman.Sunstroke had laid Bob low on the day after leaving the fort. Theunusual exertions which he had undergone since his adventure with theCossacks had tried his constitution more than he was aware, and thefinal excitement and strain of Kobo's rescue had left him too weak towithstand the effect of the sudden heat. He was unconscious when hereached General Kuroki's quarters, and the doctor who examined himlooked grave.

  It was some days before he came fully to himself, and then the doctor,though he foretold a complete recovery, declared that it would be amatter of time and rest, and emphatically forbade Bob to think of activeservice for months to come.

  "But I must get back to the fleet," protested Bob. "I'm a kind ofdeserter, and though I couldn't help being captured, and everything elsehas followed from that, I sha'n't be able to help feeling guilty when Ireport myself to Admiral Togo."

  "You'll do nothing of the kind. We're a long way from the coast; in anycase we can't spare a cruiser to carry you to Port Arthur; and if wecould, I shouldn't allow you to go."

  "What's to become of me, then? I can't follow the army; and I'm sure Idon't want to be left behind in a Manchurian village."

  The doctor's reply was interrupted by the entrance of General Kurokihimself. After greeting Bob, the general took the doctor aside, and forsome minutes the two were engaged in conversation. They spoke inJapanese, and Bob, with the impatience of an invalid, felt annoyed atbeing the subject of a discussion which he could not follow. At lengthGeneral Kuroki turned to him and said:

  "I hear you want to rejoin the fleet, Mr. Fawcett. That is an entirelycreditable wish; but the doctor is quite right, you must not think ofit. You need not be disturbed about your quarters, however; we shallnot leave you to the tender mercies of the Manchus. I'm going to sendyou to Yokohama. Stay," he added, as Bob began to protest, "it is quitefixed; you will be escorted to Chemulpo as soon as the doctor givespermission. For my part, I shall be glad to be rid of you." Thegeneral smiled. "Don't take that personally; I have had the pleasure ofsending a report to the illustrious Emperor detailing the services youhave rendered us since you left the fleet, and your adventurousexpedition for the rescue of Kobo San. You have good friends, sir.Ever since you started on your quest I have been pestered by telegramsfrom a lady, first from Seoul, then from Yokohama--a Mrs. Pottle, whohas been most energetic in enquiring after your welfare. Mrs. Pottlehas given me more trouble than all the press correspondents together,and that is saying a good deal. I wired to the lady when you werebrought in, telling her of your illness, and hoped that I should hear nomore from her. But her telegram has now become a daily event, and onlythis morning she wired: 'Send him right along, I will nurse him like amother'. So you see, Mr. Fawcett, that in getting rid of you I get rid,as I hope, of Mrs. Pottle."

  For all his disappointment, Bob could not help smiling.

  "She is a most determined woman," he said; "quite capable of leadingyour army, sir, with her umbrella. Well, I'm in your hands, general;it's very kind of you to be bothered with me at all. I only wish I hada chance of doing something; but I suppose that when I am quite wellagain the war will be over."

  "I hope so," said the general gravely. "We have hard work before us;many good lives will be lost; but we shall persevere, and who knows--?"

  Bob was welcomed by Mrs. Pottle at Yokohama literally with open arms.He had never been so much fussed over in his life as he was during thenext few days. His health had improved with the voyage; but he wasstill only the shadow of his former self, and Mrs. Pottle showed thatshe had undertaken in all earnestness the duties of nurse. Bob found herenergy rather trying, but he endured her ministrations with patience,for they were alleviated by the presence of Ethel Charteris, whoseenthusiasm was displayed in a quieter and more winning manner. Mrs.Pottle was by no means short-sighted, and after a time she began toleave Bob more and more in her niece's hands, much to his contentment.

  One day she returned from her usual morning expedition through the townaccompanied by a stranger--a tall grizzled gentleman, sparse, keen, yetbearing an undefinable resemblance to the lady. Ethel was seated atBob's side on the veranda of the hotel when she saw the two figuresapproaching.

  "Good gracious! It's poppa!" she exclaimed, and fled to meet him.

  Mrs. Pottle came up first, rustling in Japanese silk under achrysanthemum parasol.

  "See what you're responsible for!" she exclaimed. "Here's my brother,Andrew B. Charteris, come right out to fetch us. Says he couldn't makehead or tale of our letters, and couldn't size up the attractions ofYokohama, and so he's left his business in a critical situation to seewhat his sister and daughter are doing. I hope you and Andrew will getalong, Mr. Fawcett. He's a silent man, but a real good hand at takingstock of things. Here he is."

  Mr. Andrew B. Charteris came up with Ethel clinging to his arm. Theintroductions were made.

  "Heard a lot about you, sir," said Mr. Charteris. "Real glad to meet youin the flesh."

  "There, Andrew, you don't mean anything; but if you had known Mr.Fawcett before, you wouldn't have said just that. Poor boy! he's littleenough flesh on his bones now."

  "H'm! Nature has wonderful recuperative powers," said Mr. Charteris,who after this profound remark walked on into the hotel with hisdaughter.

  A week passed--a time of quiet enjoyment to Bob, who had still more ofEthel's company now that Mrs. Pottle had her brother to pilot round, asshe put it. There was only one drawback to his happiness. One day hewas surprised by a visit from a high court functionary, who had come tocommand his attendance at the palace in Tokio at a certain hour nextday. Bob made a wry face when the functionary was gone. He guessedthat this unexpected honour was due to General Kuroki's report to theMikado, and was sufficiently boyish yet to hate all fuss, as he toldEthel.

  "I think you are quite wrong," she replied. "You have done splendidly,and it is only right that the Mikado should thank you himself. Why, Iknow young men in San Francisco who'd give their eyes to be invited tosee a real live emperor."

  He went to Tokio, and certainly did not look unhappy when he returned.Mrs. Pottle bombarded him with questions about what had happened.

  "Oh, it was all right," said Bob. "He's a very good sort; so's theEmpress. It wasn't the formal affair I expected. They had me in theirprivate apartments and gave me some tea, and the Emperor said uncommonlynice things, and presented me with--this."

  He held up a ribbon with a gold ornament attached.

  "My!" exclaimed Mrs. Pottle, "what's that?"

  "It's the insignia of the order of the Sacred Treasure."

  "Mysakes! Only think of that
! Well, I'll say this; it's no more thanyou deserve. There!"

  "I'm so glad," said Ethel.

  "What's it worth in cash?" drawled Mr. Charteris.

  "Oh, poppa, you unromantic, practical, shocking old man! The idea!It's perfectly priceless. Mr. Fawcett wouldn't part with it foranything, I'm sure."

  "I sha'n't tempt him. I don't cotton to fal-lals of that sort. Athumping cheque would have been more to the point. Say, Mr. Fawcett,you ain't a rich man?"

  Bob flushed at the blunt question, and Ethel blushed in sympathy.

  "No offence!" added the old man, his eyes twinkling. "It's just thisway. I've been thinking for a week, Mr. Fawcett. It ain't right forthat tramp of yours across the Manchurian hills to be thrown slick away.How long do you suppose this war will last out?"

  "That's more than I can even imagine," replied Bob. "I don't see howPort Arthur can hold out much longer; they are closing in on it; and asto the land campaign, the Japanese generals are driving the Russiansfrom pillar to post. If the Russians are wise, the war will end withthe fall of Port Arthur."

  "Ah! and then?"

  "What do you mean, sir?"

  "Well, I suppose the Japs--"

  "Poppa!" interrupted Ethel. "Don't use that horrid word--call themJapanese."

  "Anything to please you, my love. I was going to say that I suppose theJaps--Japanese, I mean--are not running this war for nothing. They'llwant to develop the country--what?"

  "No doubt."

  "And they'll keep an 'open door', eh? Well, what I've been thinking isthis. When the war ends, it'll be time for me to slip in with asyndicate to work out some of the minerals--what! And it seems to me,from what I've heard and seen of you--especially what I've seen--thatyou're the right sort to be of use. You know the country; say, you'vehad a practical training--not wasted too much time on defunct languages,eh? and what's most to the point, you've got a pretty level head, andI'll go bail you ain't afraid of work. So, if you're agreeable, we'llstrike a bargain. What?"

  "I accept your offer with pleasure, sir," said Bob, his face flushed,his eyes shining. "I've always wanted to live an active life, and--"

  "Shake!" said the American, relapsing into his usual laconic mode ofutterance. Mrs. Pottle gleamed benevolence through her eye-glasses, andBob's eyes sought Ethel's.

  A few days later, one of the liners of the _Pacific Mail_ was steamingacross the ocean from Yokohama towards San Francisco. On the deck sat agroup of three--the same three who had foregathered on the voyage out toNagasaki seven months before. Morton and Desjardins, finding that theirchances of seeing anything of the actual fighting were not improving,had asked to be recalled, and were returning by way of New York. Bob,with sick-leave from the Japanese government, had accepted an invitationto spend a few weeks with Mr. Charteris in San Francisco. The threewere lolling on their deck-chairs, when a fourth figure was seen slowlyrising from the companion-way.

  "Well, Schwab, feel better?" shouted Morton.

  "Zanks, Mr. Morton, I am vat you call fairly gumfortable. Ze sea-illnessattack me not zis time so bad. Indeed," he added expansively, "Igommence to enjoy myself."

  "Ah! de beautiful sea, de beautiful sun!" exclaimed Desjardins. "I lookup into de blue sky lovly above, and it make me feel all de vorld ispoetry."

  "Bosh!" snorted Morton in his downright way. "Excuse me; no poetry inthe world but what you put there. I ain't built that way; no Englishmanwho can eat a beefsteak is. No!"

  "But, monsieur, you do yourself, you do your nation, im-mense injustice.Par exemple! vat vas it I hear last night ven I promenade myself beneasde so silent stars? Assuredly it vas de sweet voice of MademoiselleCharteris who give a lesson to de boy Ah-Sam. I listen; I am charmed;it vas a little poem, so short, so simple, I learn it by 'art at once:

  "''Ow doss de leetle beesy bee-e Impr-rove each shinin' hour-r, And gader 'oney all de day-e From every openin' flower-r-r!

  So it begin, and--"

  "I see Madame Bottle!" suddenly exclaimed Schwab, rising clumsily fromthe deck-chair into which he had subsided. The others rose also andhastened along the deck towards a group of two ladies and a gentlemancoming in their direction. Schwab at once took possession of Mrs.Pottle; the others manoeuvred for the place at Ethel's left hand, theright being occupied by her father. Desjardins lost his chance bywaiting to make an elaborate bow; Morton, for all his bluntness, was abashful man; so that Bob had no great difficulty in securing theposition. Morton consoled himself by arranging deck-chairs for theladies, and the company grouped themselves, Schwab still next to Mrs.Pottle, and Bob retaining his place at Ethel's left hand.

  "We've been hearing of your English lessons to Ah-Sam," said Morton toEthel.

  "Have you? Oh yes! I don't like his pidgin English at all. It wouldbe so much nicer if he could speak properly, and the poor man is reallyso eager to learn."

  "How does he get on?" asked Bob.

  "I think he is improving, but it is very slow. I read in a magazine theother day that learning to recite poetry is a great help, so I have beenteaching him a very easy little poem, explaining it as I go along injust the same simple language I use to my Sunday-school class. He is sointelligent."

  "There he is," said Bob. "Let us see what he makes of it" (with aglance at Desjardins). "You don't mind, Miss Charteris?"

  "Not at all," replied Ethel, with a faint blush, "--if you are not toosevere an examiner."

  "Here, Ah-Sam!" called Bob.

  The Chinaman came up and bowed humbly.

  "Miss Charteris has been teaching you about the little busy bee. Weshould like to hear you say it."

  "My no can talkee missy so-fashion," said Ah-Sam, looking troubled.

  "Never mind that. Say it your own way."

  Ah-Sam looked at Ethel.

  "Come, Ah-Sam," she said; "remember how I explained it to you."

  The Chinaman put his hands behind his back, hesitated, then fixed hiseyes on the nearest ventilator, and in his odd sing-song chanted:

  "What-for one piecee littee pidgy bee Wantchee go workee allo bloomin' day-lo? He go 'long smellum evely littee tlee; Ch'hoy! catchee jam-jam; bimeby chop-chop wailo!"

  The colour of Ethel's cheeks had deepened from pink to scarlet duringthis recitation. Morton gave a titter at the second line, then cougnedand looked solemn. At the end they all glanced at one another and burstinto an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Ah-Sam looked deprecatingly athis young mistress, and began to make humble obeisance with his hands.

  "Thank you, Ah-Sam," she said. "You said it very nicely. You may gonow.--What a shame!" she added, turning to the others when he had gone,"to hurt the poor man's feelings so. He did his best."

  "And clearly showed that he had studied your commentary more than thetext, as is the way with students of English," said Bob. "Never mind,Miss Charteris; Ah-Sam's a good fellow. I am hardly yet reconciled tohis transference of allegiance from me to you."

  "Nor I," said Mr. Charteris drily, with a grim look at his sister.

  "Now, Andrew, don't go into that again," said Mrs. Pottle. "There's norule without an exception. Our legislators are mostly right, I allow;but when they make a law that excludes all Chinamen from ourshores--well, they have to reckon with me. I confess I smuggled Ah-Samon board; he's the exception, a most exceptional China boy. Ethel tooka fancy to have him for a servant, and I'll land him right down at SanFrancisco, laws or no laws."

  Mr. Charteris shrugged.

  "Fawcett," he said, "come and take a turn with me. We must talk overthat prospectus--eh, what?"

  "Yes, and I must write up my diary for the _Argonaut_," said Mrs.Pottle, rising, and sailing away towards a table specially reserved forher beneath the awning. Herr Schwab looked glum on her departure; hetook no part in the conversation of the others, and when Ethel by and byleft the group and strolled away by herself, he too got up, refilled hisbig pipe, and walked to a spot where, leaning on the rail, he had Mrs.Pottle in full vie
w. Puffing solemnly, he watched her for a long time asshe wrote on and on in complete unconsciousness of his lingering gaze.At last, putting his pipe into his pocket without knocking out theashes, he went below. Soon he returned, laden with several bulky tomes,and staggered up to Mrs. Pottle's sheltered corner, where he placed thevolumes in a pile beside her table, and heaved a sonorous sigh. Mrs.Pottle looked up, glanced from Schwab's face to the books, then resumedher writing, just as the German was bringing his right hand down on thecrown of his wideawake. He wiped his gold-rimmed spectacles, replacedthem on his nose, and sighed again.

  "Don't you feel well, Mr. Schwab?" said the lady, preparing to pack upher papers.

  "Quite vell, madame, I zank you--egzept in vun sbot," he said. He hadhis hat off now, and as Mrs. Pottle looked curiously at him he made hera profound obeisance, and in a hurried, slightly anxious tone, said:

  "I beg leaf, dear madame, to bresent you zese few volumes _BrockhausEncyglobaedia_--last edition, viz colour blates."

  "Really, Mr. Schwab, it is very good of you, but--no, I couldn't thinkof it--I--"

  "Ach, it is nozink; it is nozink. Ze Gairman heart, madame, ven it istouched, do not zink of egsbense; it vibrate only viz sentiment.Besides, I buy zem halfprice."

  Mrs. Pottle had both hands on the table, and was gazing through hereye-glasses at Schwab in speechless amazement.

  "Allow me, dear Madame Bottle, to egsblain. You, no doubt, hafforgotten ze moment--vy should you regollect?--ven you ar-rive on zisship: ze moment ven--vat shall I say?--ven you stickfast in zetoo-narrow gangvay. Oh! madame, zat vas ze obbortunity of my life; I vasready. You, Madame Bottle, vas Andromeda; I, Hildebrand Schwab, vasBerseus. Madame, I bush you zrough.... And at zatmoment--I--fall--in--lov!"

  "Oh!" gasped Mrs. Pottle, half rising to escape. But she could notleave the corner she had so carefully chosen without passing Schwab; hisbulky form concealed her from view; and feeling a prisoner she felllimply back into her chair.

  "Lov!" continued Schwab, as one declaiming an oration; "lov! vat is it?Madame, I seek it in _Brockhaus Encyglobaedia_, vol. eleven:--'Lov is ahighly gomblex emotion azzoziated viz ze value vun put upon a berson ora objeck.' Vat, I ask myself, is ze value I put upon zat beautifulobjeck--I should say berson? Madame, I--I cannot gif estimate--I,Hildebrand Schwab, vat gif estimate by ze zousand. Ergo, I am in lov:_quod erat demonstrandum_."

  Mrs. Pottle said something, and again essayed to flee, but Schwab spreadhimself and solemnly waved her down.

  "Stay, madame. It is not merely zat I am in lov; I am also in business.I haf ze honour to offer you double bartnership. My hand, madame, myheart--my Gairman heart--I blace zem at your feet. And viz zem go zerebresentation of ze solid house of Schlagintwert, ze gorresbondence ofze _Duesseldoerfer Tageblatt_ vat circulate in Werden, Kettwig,Muelheim, Odenkolin, and ozer blaces; besides fery bromising agencies inRuskin edition de luxe, batent mangle, hair restorer, zentrifugal bomp,bianola--"

  Schwab was so intent on his formula that he was not prepared for asudden convulsive movement on the part of Mrs. Pottle, who seized hersunshade, and, sweeping the bulky wooer from her path, fled below. Hestood for a moment in solemn stillness; then he took out his pipe,emptied it of ash, refilled and lit it, and, blowing great guns,gathered the volumes into his arms and walked away.

  Meanwhile Mrs. Pottle had almost fallen into the arms of her brother,who was bringing from his cabin a paper to show Bob on deck.

  "Now, Jane, Jane," expostulated Mr. Charteris mildly "you are too old totake flying leaps like that."

  "Oh, Andrew, Andrew!" said Mrs. Pottle, with a burst of laughter, "I amnot too old to have an offer."

  "What do you mean?"

  "My! I can hardly tell you for laughing. I have had a proposal ofmarriage--at my age! Guess who from?"

  "Not Bob Fawcett?" said Mr Charteris with a sudden grim suspicion.

  "Bob Fawcett!" Mrs. Pottle almost shouted with laughter. "You are justan old goose, Andrew. No; from Mr. Schwab, Hildebrand Schwab, who triedto woo me with a German encyclopaedia. It just beats anything!"

  Mr. Charteris grunted.

  "Knows that Isidore left you a pile, I suppose."

  "You're not complimentary, Andrew. Mr. Schwab called me a 'beautifulobjeck', fell in love with me because he had to help me up the gangway,'bush me zrough!' Oh!----"

  The recollection was too much for Mrs. Pottle; her portly double chinshook, and she was breathless with laughter.

  "I advise a visit to the stewardess, Jane," said Mr. Charteris."Excitement is dangerous--at your age."

  "Wait a moment, Andrew," said his sister as he made to ascend theladder. "You thought Bob might have fallen a victim to Isidore's pile?You're as blind as a bat to everything but business. Let me tell you asecret, sir. Bob is head over ears in love with Ethel."

  "Eh?"

  "And Ethel, though of course she won't admit it, is, his, well----"

  "What?"

  "Yes!" said Mrs. Pottle inconsequently. "Don't look so fierce," sheadded, patting his arm. "Bob's a good fellow; you won't be disappointedin him."

  "Well, Jane," said Mr. Charteris slowly, "I allow that you surprise me.I guess I'm pretty well pleased. To be sure, I never reckoned on Ethelmarrying a Britisher; she don't take no stock of 'em as a rule. ButI'll say this: I don't care who the man is--Yankee, Britisher, orAustralian; but if he's a worker, a fellow who'll get on, a good sort,and real fond of my gal--hang me, he shall have her--if she's willing.What!"

  THE END