*CHAPTER XXII*
*Capturing a Locomotive*
Overdue--A Special--The Vladivostok Train--The Sound of a Whistle--AnInterrupted Message--A Correction--Bound East
"The fair at Wu-chi-mi will be well attended this month. I have not hadso many bookings for a long time."
The station-master at Mao-shan looked appreciatively at the motleygathering. With true oriental patience they had come at least an hourbefore the train was due, and in Manchuria that was probably two hoursbefore it would arrive. Flanked by the enormous bundles and parcelsthat in the East represent personal luggage, they were squatting on rugsand mats under the station shed, waiting for the gates leading on to theplatform to be opened.
"I only hope there'll be room for them all. But it's wonderful howtight these Chinamen can pack. And they haven't far to go. Thelong-distance passengers will grumble."
The waiting crowd was not really large, but the station was small.There might be seventy or eighty in all--men, women, and children. Someof them were chattering volubly in their high-pitched voices; otherswere stolidly smoking or doing nothing at all. One big, burly fellowwas joining in a game of knuckle-stones with a bright-looking boy, theman playing with the deepest solemnity, the child bubbling withmerriment as he got the better of his elder. All were protected fromthe cold by garments so thickly wadded that the heads of the peoplelooked entirely out of proportion to their bulk of body.
"It's extraordinary," continued the station-master, who was doing themost of the talking, his companion, a tall captain of Cossacks wearinglong felt boots, a large fur hat, and a fur-lined cloak up to his ears,interjecting only an occasional brief word--"it's extraordinary, yournobility, how the Chinese have taken to the railway. When I came herefour years ago, the most of them looked on it with suspicion, evendread; now they use it as freely as the folk in Moscow or Petersburg.But this is a poor district hereabouts, and they can't afford to travelmuch, though it's cheap enough, goodness knows."
"She's late, is she not?" enquired the captain, breaking into theofficial's monologue. "It's past eight"--glancing at the station clock.
"True, little father. Half an hour late at Hsiao-ten-shan-ling, andthat's less than usual. She may make up five or ten minutes; it isdownhill on the whole. But the government is keeping a sharp eye on thefuel. They won't burn extra to make up lost time; and for the matter ofthat, there's no need. The only train that mattered ran through twohours ago."
"Ah! a special?"
The station-master dropped his voice, as if fearful of being heard bythe Chinese outside the barrier.
"Yes, a special. We were warned by telegraph not to let the news spreadamong the natives. But seeing you are an officer, there's no harm inmentioning there were three hundred of your own men--Cossacks, and asprinkling of Siberian Rifles. I suppose you are going on the sameerrand?"
Map of the Siberian Railway from Mao-shan toHan-ta-ho-tzue.]
There was much curiosity in the station-master's voice. He was himself asoldier, and keenly interested in military matters, in which, indeed, hewas more at home than in the routine of railway work. A green-coatedrailway sentinel passed and saluted. The captain, who was unknown tothe station-master, had ridden in from Ho-ni-ho-tzue an hour before, andpurchased a ticket for Hai-lin, the station for Ninguta. He had beenanything but communicative, much to the chagrin of the official, to whoma gossip was the sole distraction in a very monotonous existence, exiledas he was in this out-of-the-way station. His curiosity had beenaroused by the fact that the captain was leaving his horse in hischarge. It was to be put on board the Harbin train when that officerreturned.
"Yes," the captain replied, "the same errand."
"Ah Lum?"
"Da, da! Ah Lum. There will soon be a strong force at Ninguta."
"There must be nearly a thousand there now, to say nothing of the threehundred that passed through this morning, and as many yesterday morning.They are running them very quickly, for the empty train passed here onthe way back to Harbin on the afternoon of the same day. We don't oftenmake such running on this railway. It's more like old days on theWarsaw section. I was there before I came here. The Paris express--thatis a train if you like. Although they do say that they run even fasterin England. Of course that's a lie; they are all liars, the English.That's well known, is it not, little father?"
"What's that yonder?" said the officer instead of replying.
The station-master looked in the direction indicated. Nearly a mile awaya cart, drawn by mules and ponies, was hurrying from the neighbourhoodof Ho-ni-ho-tzue towards the station.
"Another passenger, I suspect," said the station-master. "And he'dbetter hurry, for there's the train at last."
A thin white riband of vapour was just visible against the blue sky,floating above the hills to the west.
"He won't catch it," said the officer.
"I sha'n't keep it for him," returned the official. "But he may just doit. He's cut it rather fine for a Chinaman. The train's late as it is;should have been half-way to Wu-chi-mi by this time."
As he spoke, the engine came in sight round a curve of the hilly track.The Chinamen in waiting rose to their feet, grasped their bundles, andclosed up against the barrier. Three riflemen emerged from their littleblockhouse and began to patrol the platform; two or three stationattendants appeared. A few seconds later the huge train, looking fartoo large for the station, rumbled in and came to a stop. It consistedof several old and shaky carriages already well filled with passengers,and one saloon in the centre. The few passengers for Mao-shan alightedand passed through the barrier; then the waiting crowd surged throughand hurried along the platform in search of vacant places, which seemedhard to find.
A train attendant handed an official-looking paper to thestation-master, who passed with it into his office; there was asignature to affix. Two of the Chinese passengers followed him as heleft the platform; two others halted near the attendant. There werecries from the officials to the Chinamen to take their seats. Meanwhilethe Cossack captain had sauntered into the room of the telegraphoperator, and half a dozen Chinamen, having, it seemed, failed todiscover vacant places in the forward carriages, were moving on towardsthe engine, followed by the voluble protest of one of the riflemen, whohurried after them to bring them back. Two or three, among them the bigman and the boy who had been playing knuckle-stones, were peering in atthe windows of the saloon carriage, apparently in great curiosity to seethe occupants.
By this time the rest of the passengers had squeezed themselves into thealready crowded compartments. Faces were pressed against all thewindows; there was much speculation as to the chance of the belatedpassenger in the cart catching the train, its progress being eagerlywatched, and the Chinamen in the carriages betting freely on the event.
Suddenly a shrill whistle rang out from the room of the telegraphoperator. There was an instant change of scene. Here and there alongthe platform, groups of Chinamen, who a moment before had all the guiseof peaceable passengers, threw themselves with startling rapidity uponthe officials and the riflemen. There was a series of brief swiftstruggles; a revolver shot was heard; but that was all. Inside andoutside of the train the guard and attendants were in a few secondsbound and helpless; the men who had gone forward to the engine grappledwith the driver and fireman; the station-master was tied up in his ownoffice. The passengers, alarmed and apprehensive, were staringopen-mouthed at the proceedings. The door of the saloon carriage wasthrown open, and there appeared at it two men, one a tall long-beardedRussian officer, whose uniform betokened high rank, the other a fairhook-nosed civilian, who stared round the other's shoulder.
"What is this, what is this?" cried the officer, stepping out of thetrain revolver in hand.
The last word was hardly out of his mouth when the burly Chinaman hurledhimself at the Russian's knees from behind; he fell backwards; therevolver was wrenched from his hand, and the Chin
aman held him pinned tothe platform. His companion meanwhile had run back into the saloon;before he could slam the door the Chinese boy interposed, flinginghimself flat on the floor of the doorway. Two Chinamen forced their wayin, and did not reappear.
The prostrate officer was now trussed up. His captor had given a brieforder to the rest of the assailants, now ranged along the platformawaiting instructions. At once they boarded the train, and peremptorilyordered the passengers to alight. Then the Chinamen found theirtongues; there was a great hubbub and commotion among them; their firsthesitation was quickly overcome by the pistol butts of the bandits, whohastened their exit by ruthless and well-directed kicks and buffets.One of the passengers, a heavy man, roared an imprecation and showedfight; but he was matched in size by the big fellow who had tackled theofficer, and who now, his work with him being finished, seized theprotester and flung him out on to the platform. Bruised and shaken, herolled over and squatted on his hams; there was no more fight in him.
As soon as the train came to a standstill the Cossack officer hadentered the little room of the telegraphist, and at a sign from him theChinaman close behind him blew the shrill blast on a whistle that hadbeen the signal for the attack.
"Excuse me," said the captain, "I have a message to send."
The operator, interrupted in the midst of a message, was startled by theabrupt entrance of the soldier, the sudden whistle, and the sharp crackof a revolver immediately following. He looked round, half-rising fromhis chair, his hand still on the key of the instrument.
"Finish your message," said the officer quietly. His uniform, his calmair of authority, impressed the man. Dropping back into his seat heticked off the remainder of his message: it was merely a serviceintimation of the arrival of the train. The sounds of commotion on theplatform were increasing; when the operator had finished he said:
"Is there a fight, your nobility? Perhaps I ought to assist. We are asmall staff."
"No. Stay where you are. It is all over. Now please, my message. ToWu-chi-mi----"
"But, your nobility, if you will write the despatch out--we are notallowed----"
"There is no time for that. At once, if you please."
The man still hesitated: the officer sternly continued:
"My business will not admit of a moment's delay. You can attend toformalities afterwards."
"Well, your nobility, if you insist---- But you will take theresponsibility?"
"Certainly. Call up Wu-chi-mi, if you please."
The man ticked off the call. There was an immediate reply.
"Say this: 'Station on fire'----"
The operator almost sprang from his stool; his eyes were wide withalarm.
"But----"
"You heard what I said. 'Station on fire!'"
A pistol's cold muzzle at the man's ear sent him cowering to his post.Pale to the lips, with trembling fingers he ticked off the words. Itwas clear that the officer could follow his rapid movements, for hesuddenly pointed the pistol full at his brow, saying:
"That is enough: recall your last word; another mistake of the kind maycost you your life."
"Recall your last word!"]
Seeing that his attempt to warn the operator at the other end had beendetected, the man corrected the word.
"Now add: 'Vladivostok train can get through; expect temporary cessationof messages: will try to save instruments'. That will do."
The man sank back, and wiped his clammy brow. The officer turned to theChinaman, beckoning him forward. In his arms he bore a bulky parcel. Ata sign from the captain he placed the bundle beneath the operator'sdesk; opening it, he disclosed a heap of greasy shavings. He struck amatch and set light to the pile; the man sprang from his chair and madefor the door, but was caught and held by the Chinaman. Dismantling theapparatus, the officer gave it into the free hand of his follower; then,the room being full of smoke, he hurried out to the platform, the cowedand bewildered official being pushed along in front.
Only a few minutes had elapsed since the train came to a stop at theplatform. As the captain emerged, the cart which had been sighted inthe distance had just arrived. While twenty men stood with levelledrevolvers overawing the crowd, a dozen muscular bandits hauled crowbars,spades, and long spanners from the cart across the platform into thebrake-van, and the noticeably big man carefully carried a small box tothe saloon carriage. At a sign from the captain, a gang of the Chinamenhad hurried up the line some distance from the station and were nowcutting the wires in two places a hundred yards apart. Breaking openthe store-room, yet another group found what they were evidently insearch of: a reserve instrument and a heavy coil of wire. These, withthe wire cut from the line, with which the other men came hastening up,were bundled into the train; and within a quarter of an hour from thebeginning of the attack the brigands were aboard, the Cossack captainwas in the cab of the locomotive, and, watched by the ejected passengersin silent amazement, the train rumbled slowly out of the station.
Brown of Moukden: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War Page 23