*CHAPTER VI*
*In Full Cry*
In Chinatown--A Deal in Horseflesh--North and by East--A KoreanHost--Across the Line--Buriats--Father Mayenube--Gabriele--A Shot--HardPressed--In Hiding--Suggestio Falsi
Jack's business in Vladivostok was now completed. He had secured thelast of his father's property; bills representing several thousands ofpounds were in the safe hands of Captain Fraser, soon to be confided tothe Hong-Kong and Shanghai Bank. So far his task had been unexpectedlyeasy; his difficulties, he felt, were now to begin. During the longjourney from Harbin he had spent hours endeavouring to think out a planto adopt if his secret visit to Vladivostok proved successful. By hookor crook he must get back to Moukden and learn the result of thecompradore's enquiries; the question was, how? The return journey wouldbe attended by many difficulties; even if he should reach Moukden insafety it would only be to find himself encompassed by danger. Yet hesaw no other chance of tracing his father, and whatever the risks andperils, he felt that his duty called him to face them.
The first thing, then, was to make his way back to Moukden. To returnby the railway was out of the question. He dared not go openly, and heknew no one in Vladivostok whom he could trust to negotiate for aclandestine passage. His only course was to slip away, gain theManchurian frontier, and cross the Shan-yan-alin range of mountains--along and difficult journey at the best, and in the present circumstanceshazardous in the extreme. If he evaded the Russians in and aroundVladivostok he would still be exposed to capture by Chinese bandits, tosay nothing of the tenfold risks as he neared his journey's end.
His difficulties were intensified by the desperately short notice atwhich he must now quit Vladivostok. Sowinski, furious at beingoutwitted in the matter of the bills, would be goaded to madness by hisdetention on board the _Waverley_, and as Captain Fraser would probablyconsider it prudent to put him ashore at no great distance, it might notbe long before he telephoned to head-quarters and thus raised the hueand cry in Vladivostok itself. To the natives Jack might easily passfor a Russian; carefully made up, he might, with his smattering ofChinese, be taken by the Russians for a native. But there was no timefor such preparations; and a Russian policeman on the hunt for anEnglishman, with the Pole's description of him, must be an exceptionallyincompetent member of his class if he failed to recognize the fugitive.Speed was thus the first essential.
Hurrying up from the shore he made up his mind what to do. Fortunatelyhe was in the Chinese quarter of the town; it was the part of prudenceto avoid the Russian settlement on the hill. He remembered a Chinesehorse-dealer with whom Mr. Brown had done business when he lived in thetown years before. The Chinese had altered less than the official city,and he thought he could find his way to the merchant's house. Takinghis bearings, he walked rapidly through several streets, and found tohis delight that his recollection had not failed him. The horse-dealerwas at home; he did not recognize Jack, who was a boy of eleven when histransactions with Mr. Brown had taken place; but he well remembered theEnglish merchant. And when he learnt that Jack wished to purchase apony he rubbed his hands together and led him at once to the stables toview the stock. They were a weedy lot, like most of the native animals.Jack was careful to show no haste or eagerness; he looked them overcritically, rejected one after another in spite of all the flowerythings the Chinaman found to say in their favour, and finally refused tobuy. As he expected, the merchant then managed to find a betterbeast--a beautiful little Transbaikal pony, sturdy, well-made, andevidently full of mettle. Jack could not have wished for a betteranimal; but, experienced in the ways of Chinese business men, he gave nosign of his approval. The merchant quoted a price; Jack hemmed,hesitated--he knew better than to close at once; and then offered half.Eager as he was to get away, he patiently chaffered for nearly an hour;then, when the Chinaman was beginning to think he had lost his customer,Jack suddenly closed with the last offer, and the pony became his attwo-thirds of the price first asked. The purchase of a saddle did nottake so long; and when he rode off, both dealer and customer wereequally pleased.
In the street Jack stopped a young Chinese boy and sent him to apurveyor's shop for a small supply of portable food. The messengerreturned with some dried fish and stale cakes of potato-rice, all hecould procure. With this tied behind his saddle Jack set off. It wasan anxious moment when he passed a brown-coated Cossack policeman, and alittle farther on he gave a jump when a squadron of Cossacks swung roundthe corner of the street. But they rode on without giving him more thana casual glance. Not daring to hasten, he slowly made his way throughthe city and out into the country. It was still only eleven o'clock; hehad nine or ten hours of daylight before him, and though the pony wassomewhat soft for want of exercise, it was no doubt good for thirtymiles at a pinch.
Vladivostok stands at the end of a narrow peninsula, with the Amur Bayrunning for several miles into the land on the west, and the Ussuri Bayon the east. To gain the Manchurian frontier Jack would have to ridenorthwards, cross the railway at the head of the Amur Bay or beyond, andthen turn to the south-west. It was obviously unsafe for him to rideparallel with the railway line, for his escape, if discovered, would nodoubt be telegraphed ahead, and the road would be watched, especially inthe neighbourhood of the stations. His best course, therefore, would beto strike up eastwards towards the head of the Ussuri Bay, away from hisultimate destination, and trust to luck to find a hill-path leading backthat would enable him to cross the line somewhere between the head ofthe Amur Bay and the garrison town of Nikolskoye. His way led throughthe plantation where he had made his toilet early that morning, then tothe right towards the hills.
Though Vladivostok itself has sprung up with marvellous rapidity, thecountry is as yet sparsely peopled. At one time the town was closelysurrounded by magnificent woods; but the axe of the lumberman has beenbusy, and the same work of deforesting that has robbed the town ofpicturesqueness is now being pursued inland. One of the few people Jackmet along the unfrequented road he had chosen was a Russian colonistriding behind a cart laden with pine logs and driven by a coolie. Jackthrew him a friendly "Good morning!" as he passed, and received afeeling "Very hot, barin" in return. It was indeed hot; the almostnaked Korean labourers in the fields were streaming with sweat; and Jackwas glad to halt at a little brook to refresh himself and his beast.
After riding for some three hours, and covering, as he guessed, abouteighteen miles, almost entirely uphill, he saw the sea below him on theright, and the far coast-line running to all appearance due south. Thismust be Ussuri Bay. He had evidently come far enough east; it was timeto change his course to the north-west. Swinging round, he had notridden far before he came to a small farm, the house surrounded, likeall Chinese isolated country buildings, with a mud wall. His ponyrequired food, and though he felt some misgivings he thought this toogood an opportunity to be neglected. He rode up. The owner, he found,was a Korean; Jack did not speak Korean; but by the help of Chinese andpidgin Russian he succeeded in making the man understand what he wanted.He then asked how far it was to Nikolskoye, and learning that it wasthirty versts, roughly twenty miles, he decided to give his pony a goodrest and start again about six o'clock, so that darkness would havefallen by the time he came to the neighbourhood of the railway. Havingseen that the animal was rubbed down and provided with a good feed ofhay, he joined the farmer in a game of _wei-ch'i_, a difficult variantof chess, and with this and a slow laborious conversation, in the courseof which his host expounded his hazy ideas of the war, he managed to getthrough the hot afternoon.
Soon after six he set off again. The way was mainly downhill now, andeasier riding. About nine o'clock he saw in the gloaming a littlesettlement ahead, and beyond it the hexagonal water-tower and timberedstore-house of the typical Siberian railway-station, but on a smallscale. The path he was following led direct to the hamlet, and the sightof several small knots of people at that hour of the evening showed thata trai
n would shortly be passing; the peasants have not yet lost theircuriosity about the iron horse. He thought it well to avoid observationby leaving the track--road it could not be called--and striking across abean-field. Making a wide sweep he came to the railway some threeversts north of the station. He rode very cautiously as he approachedthe line, tied his pony to a tree, and scouted ahead to make sure thatthe line rifle guard, whose hut might be expected a few versts beyond,was not in sight. Suddenly he heard the distant rumble of a train--thenight train for Harbin. In a moment he saw that the passage of thetrain would give him an opportunity of crossing the line unobserved. Hewent back to his pony, led it as near as he dared to the embankment, andwaited.
The engine came snorting along at a fair pace, the fire throwing a glowupon the darkling sky. The train clattered by. Immediately after thelast carriage had passed, Jack mounted the embankment, dragging hispony, crossed the single line, and descended on the other side.
With a lighter heart he got into the saddle again, and rode hisexcellent little steed across the fields in the hope of ere longstriking a road. Pursuit would be difficult in the darkness; thegreatest danger was to be expected with daylight, and it was verynecessary that he should put as many miles as possible between himselfand the railway before dawn. His course must be mainly south-west; thenearest town of any size was Hun-chun, some sixty miles in thatdirection; but having a vague idea that the Russians had erected a fortthere, he had already made up his mind to avoid that town itself. Fouror five hundred miles and countless perils lay between him and Moukden;but with the hopefulness of youth he rode confidently on. Danger anddifficulty were only incentives to caution; if he anticipated them, itwas merely that, being prepared, he might be the more ready to grapplewith and overcome them. Ever present in his mind was the belief thathis father's fate hung upon the success of his enterprise.
Coming by and by to a rough track between the fields, he followed ituntil past midnight. Then, feeling that his pony could do no more, andbeing unable in the darkness to guide himself by the little compass hewore on his watch-chain, he left the track, rode into a plantation tothe right, off-saddled, and, hitching the bridle to a tree, threwhimself on the ground and fell asleep.
During the short hours of darkness his slumbers were disturbed bydreams. Sowinski, Orloff, Monsieur Brin, the Chinese horse-dealer--allfigured in a strange phantasmagoria. Monsieur Brin had lost his pass,and was shedding tears because he could not tear the red brassard fromhis arm, when Jack awoke with a start. Looking at his watch he found itwas five o'clock. He must be up and away. He ate the last of his food;the pony had already made a meal of the shoots of creeping plants; then,with the instinct born of his fugitive condition, Jack approached theedge of the plantation to spy out the country. Before him, not manyyards away, was a narrow river; behind--he gave a great start, forlittle more than half a mile distant he saw a troop of Russian horsementrotting smartly along the road towards him. They might be going, ofcourse, to Possiet Bay, or Novo Kiewsk, or the Korean frontier. But henoticed at a second glance that the leading man was bending low in hissaddle, as though following a trail. He distinguished their uniform now;they were Buriats, Mongols by race and Buddhists by religion, hardriders, excellent scouts, the most reckless and daring of the Russiancavalry. Without a moment's hesitation he went back to his pony,snatched from the ground the saddle that had formed his pillow, threw itover the animal's back, and, tightening the girths with hands that shookin spite of himself, he plunged with the pony into the thickest part ofthe plantation.
At seven o'clock that morning, in a neatly-thatched, white-washed brickcottage, surrounded by a luxuriant and well-kept garden, in thehill-country above the Chuan, a little group sat at breakfast. The roomwas plain but spotlessly clean. The wooden floors shone; the whiteplastered walls were covered with coloured lithographs representing theseven stations of the Cross; the little windows were hung with curtainsof Chinese muslin. A narrow shelf of books occupied one corner, a stoveanother; and the table in the centre was spread with a snow-white cloth,dishes of fruit, and home-made bread.
At the table three persons were seated. One was a tall man of finepresence, with clear-cut features, soft brown eyes, long white hair andbeard. He wore the loose white tunic and pantaloons of a Chinaman, butthe cross that hung by a cord round his neck was not Chinese. JeanMayenobe was a Frenchman, a priest, one of those devoted missionarieswho cut themselves off from home and kindred to live a life ofself-denial, peril, and humble Christian service in remote unfriendlycorners of the globe.
His companions were a woman and a girl. The former was plain-featuredand plainly dressed, with placid expression and humble mien. The latterseemed strangely out of place in her surroundings. She was young,apparently of some seventeen years. Her features were beautiful, with adignity and a look of self-command rare in one of her age. Hercomplexion was ruddy brown; her bright hair, gathered in a knot behind,rebelled against the black riband that bound it, and fell behind herears in crispy waves. Before her on the table was a samovar, and shehad just handed a cup of tea to the missionary.
"Father," she said in French, "I am so tired of waiting. I am beginningto think that permission will never come. But why should it be refused?It is not as if I were seeking some benefit. In appearance I lose, notgain."
"True, my child, you have nothing personally to gain. I have saidbefore, it is not every daughter who would come thousands of miles andsuffer hardship in order to bear her father company in exile andimprisonment. And such exile! The little I know of Sakhalin isfrightful. It gives me pain to think of your knowing even so much."
"I am not afraid. And if the treatment of prisoners in Sakhalin is sobad, that is all the more reason why I should be at my father's side, tohelp and comfort him a little. Why do they refuse to let me go?"
"Probably they have forgotten all about you. The war occupies themcompletely. And I repeat, if you have patience your father may come toyou. I have no belief that the Russians will win in this terrible war.I heard but a little while ago from a brother priest near the scene ofoperations at Hai-cheng, who has studied the combatants, that he isconvinced of the ultimate success of the Japanese. If they arevictorious they will probably demand that Sakhalin shall be restored tothem, and it will no longer be a place for Russian prisoners. Rest inthe Lord, my child; wait patiently for Him, and He will give thee thyheart's desire."
Gabriele Walewska was silent. Father Mayenobe sank into a reverie. Theelderly woman looked sympathetically at her mistress, laid her hand onhers, and murmured a few words in Polish, to which the girl respondedwith a grateful smile. The sound of a distant shot coming through theopen window shook the missionary from his musing.
"Russian officers out snipe-shooting again, I suppose," he said. "Itreminds me I must go, my child. That poor Korean convert of mine is atthe point of death, I fear. I must go to him. I may be absent allday."
"We shall be quite happy, father. I shall pick the last of yourstrawberries to-day, and make some of your favourite tartlets forsupper."
"You will spoil me," said the priest with a smile. "Dominus vobiscum."
When the missionary had gone, Gabriele left the Korean servants to clearthe table, and, accompanied by her old nurse, went out into the gardenwith a light wicker basket. As she did so she scanned the surroundingcountry for signs of the shooting party. The mission station was at thesummit of a low hill, and below it, towards the east, stretched a tractof sparse woodland, alternating with cultivated fields. A stream bathedthe foot of the hill, and wound away to join the Hun-Chuan, its coursetraceable by the thickness of the wooded belt and the more vivid greenof the fields.
While the girl was still picking the ripe red berries she heard anothershot, this time closer at hand. She rose, and out of pure curiositysearching the landscape she saw, about two miles away, a band ofhorsemen galloping through a field of kowliang, already so well grownthat the stalks rose almost to the horses' heads. There were somet
hirty or forty of the riders, at present little more than specks in thedistance. It struck her as rather a large hunting party, and shewondered what they were chasing, big game being unknown in theneighbourhood, and the time of year unusual for such sport. As shestood looking, the horsemen left the field and disappeared into thewooded belt bordering the stream.
Expecting them to come again into sight a little higher up, Gabrieleremained at the same spot. It occurred to her that one of them might bebringing the written permission she desired, and had taken advantage ofhis errand to organize a hunt. Suddenly she was startled to see afigure on horseback emerge from the copse but a few yards below her. Itwas a young man, a European; he was swaying in his saddle; and shenoticed with feminine quickness that one arm was supported in a sling--ahandkerchief looped round his neck. The next moment the rider caughtsight of her; his eyes seemed to her to speak the language of despair.He swayed still more heavily, and was on the point of falling from hishorse when Gabriele sprang down the slope and caught him. Calling to hernurse and a Korean man-servant near at hand, with their help she liftedhim from the saddle and loosened his shirt-collar, then sent the Koreanfor water.
Jack was dazed at first, all but swooning.
"Thank you!" he said in Russian. "I was almost done, I think. Butplease help me to mount again. I must ride on."
"Impossible, gospodin!" she said. "You are hurt, I see; the injury mustbe seen to."
"It is good of you, but my arm must wait. Please help me to mount mypony."
His wounded arm, his urgent manner, recalled to Gabriele the shots shehad heard, the band of horsemen she had seen galloping in the distance.
"You are in danger?" she said quickly. "Is it not so?"
"Yes. There are Buriats behind me; they are close on my heels.Indeed"--he smiled wanly--"it is your duty, as a Russian, I suppose, togive me up."
"I am not a Russian," she exclaimed. "And if I were, I should notlightly give up a fugitive to the Russian police. You can go no farther;what can I do? There is so little time."
For a few seconds she appeared to be considering. Her brow was knit;she looked at him anxiously. Fully trusting her, he made no furthereffort to continue his flight, for which, indeed, he was manifestlyunfit. Half-reclining on his pony's neck, he waited, panting.
Then she spoke rapidly to the Korean.
"Take the pony, unsaddle him, and turn him loose in the kowliang yonder.Saddle the Father's pony, ride a few yards in the stream, then galloppast the edge of the copse, through the hemp field, up to Boulder Hill.If you are followed by horsemen, throw them off the scent. Don't letthem see you closely. Return after dark, but make sure the Buriats arenot here before you come in."
An unregenerate Korean would probably have hesitated, but this man hadbeen for some time under Father Mayenobe's training, and in a fewminutes he had brought out the pony and cantered away. MeanwhileGabriele, asking Jack to lean upon her arm, had led him into the copseto a large beech, the lowest branch of which sprang from the trunk abouttwelve feet from the ground. Asking him to remain there, she ran offwith the fleetness of a doe, and soon returned with a light ladder.Setting this against the tree, she assisted Jack to mount; when hereached the fork he saw that the interior of the trunk was hollow. Thenshe pulled up the ladder, lowered it into the hollow space, and helpedJack to descend. Drawing up the ladder again, she let it down outside,ran down, and carried it swiftly back to the house, leaving Jack insidethe trunk, where he stood upright, supporting himself with his uninjuredarm.
Scarcely five minutes had passed since his first appearance. TheBuriats had not yet come in sight; they had clearly been checked by thefugitive's sudden divergence from his previous line of flight, andnonplussed by his precaution in riding for some distance through thestream. But in another five minutes half a dozen horsemen, with ahandsome young Russian lieutenant at their head, drew rein in front ofthe house. Gabriele was unconcernedly shelling peas at the window ofthe little dining-room.
The officer was evidently surprised to see a young European lady. Withheightened colour he bent over his saddle and addressed her in Russian.
"Have you seen a man on horseback in (he neighbourhood, Mademoiselle?"
Gabriele looked up, with a puzzled expression.
"Monsieur parle-t-il francais?" she said.
"Oui, Mademoiselle," returned the officer, then repeating his questionin French.
"Yes," she replied. "A few minutes ago a man galloped from the stream,past the copse, and rode auay along the side of the hill."
"Merci bien, Mademoiselle," said the lieutenant, translating theinformation for his men.
They at once began to hunt for the tracks, and in a few moments spiedthe hoof-marks of a galloping horse. One of them discharged his rifleto bring up the rest of the troop, who had scattered over the face ofthe country, endeavouring to pick up the trail of the fugitive. Somewere already galloping off in the direction indicated by Gabriele. Soonthe rest of the Buriats came riding by in twos and threes, until thewhole band was in full cry up the hillside.
Gabriele remained at the window shelling peas until she was sure thatthe last horseman had passed. Then she took a bottle of home-grown winefrom the missionary's store, filled a cup and gave it to her old nurseto carry, and returned with the ladder to the tree.
"It is I," she said as she approached. "I am bringing you wine."
Mounting into the tree, she handed down the cup. Jack drained it at adraught.
"You are suffering?" said the girl.
"Not much. It is a flesh wound; I have lost some blood, and was faint.I am better now."
"You must remain in the tree. The danger is not yet past; but havepatience. I dare not stay longer; they will come back soon. Hope on."
Brown of Moukden: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War Page 7