Part 22 (1/2)
It was the All-Hallow's Eve when we came cautiously into the first village, and found the peasants much alarmed at the near approach of the j.a.panese. Scouts had reported the advance, and a number of carts and men were bringing supplies for the army in the town, and for the cavalry outside it. My guide had a brilliant idea,--no less than one for the supply of vegetables, and he managed with my _cash_ to lay in a stock, which he suggested we should carry into Kinchow, and go through it to Port Arthur.
His leaden face lighted up when I praised his plan, though I have reason to think now that I rather called him names in my imperfect vocabulary. However, he seemed pleased, on the whole, and we set out on the 1st November to penetrate between the line of formidable forts which defended the approaches to Kinchow, on the hills along which the stony track meanders. The whole aspect of the country through which we had lately travelled is undulating; seamed by depressions, or ridged by hills, so that we were rising and falling all the time with our hopes and fears. I was particularly nervous, because if anyone chanced to clutch my artificial pigtail I would be a ”lost mutton.” The moral character of the Chinaman depends upon--or shall I say _in_--his tail.
A Chinaman _sans_ pigtail is an outcast. The Manchus live and dress like the Chinese, and supply the best food for powder in China.
We had some trouble--more perhaps in my imagination--on our way to the town, over whose walls the terrible Dragon was waving on banners and flags in most defiant fas.h.i.+on. If the Chinese resistance would only accord with their preparations and defences, the little j.a.panese would certainly be repulsed, I thought. As we advanced I felt like a man forced into a trap, for if discovered I had no chance for life from the Celestials, while the Rising Suns would have no quarter for those taken ”in arms.” Chinese pickets were scattered amongst the hills, and some fine men were in the ranks.
No doubt there were hundreds of men within these forts, though we saw few of them, and I wondered whether they kept watch at night carefully, for indeed they appeared rather sleepy in the morning, though ready enough with their rifles. They could thus command both roads into Kinchow from a distance over the hills and dales.
I had fancied that I heard guns during the night, but perhaps it was thunder. At anyrate the night was boisterous, and the morning chilly and wet. A long column of carts met us, and we with the natives winded our way down the track, pa.s.sing two villages of few houses, and nearing the city, for from the hill we came close to it, and entered by the northern gate. a.s.suming a most ”fearful” carelessness, which in less anxious times might have proved my undoing, I walked by my guide's side watching every movement, and scarcely noticing the glances cast upon us. Luckily my companion was recognised and well known, and our mission was patent. We had brought food, and entered the town by the Gate of ”Eternal Tranquillity,” a misnomer as it proved.
We made our way into the town amid soldiers, horses, and peasants. The walls were lofty and solid, the gates well defended, and I understood that all the approaches were mined, so that the attacking force would be blown up outside _if the mines exploded_. At anyrate, it seemed a very formidable place, and capable of a successful resistance. The guns were mounted on the bastions, and all ready for a siege. The soldiers were swarming in the streets, quartered on the people whom they had come to defend, and swaggering as much as they could.
My guide escorted me to an eating-house, a small, and, I thought, very dirty place, amid the peasants; and there he heard the news, for though all seemed on the alert and not alarmed, they knew the j.a.panese were approaching rapidly. We managed to get some satisfying food, and in escaping observation amid the soldiers who were enjoying themselves, and in excellent spirits. My guide was amused, and when I had paid for our entertainment, he made for the south gate, guarded by Manchus.
There we found exit denied, for the soldiers were stationed there in force, whether to run away first, or to prevent the townspeople from doing so, I could not determine. But we were stopped and questioned and searched. My heart sank to my shoes. The end I considered had come. What defence had I? I could not even reply to the questions which the ”sergeant,” so I deemed him, put to me. My guide had quickly cleared himself, and was standing chattering to the officer of the gate. My time had come, and I braced myself to meet the inevitable fate which was impending.
CHAPTER XIII
KINCHOW--ARRESTED BY CHINESE SOLDIERS--CAPTURE OF THE CITY
As I have said, my heart sank as the sergeant came up roughly and prepared to strip me again. Such an indignity I was unable to resist, and when the man indicated a spot apart where my costume could be conveniently removed if needful, my anger rose, and I made some remarks, which, as a fancy display of Chinese, may have given rise to curiosity, but as a means of release were void of effect. As I continued to address the ”sergeant,” he stood still, and gazed at me in as much surprise as a Manchu soldier usually exhibits. Seeing this, my anger and expostulations grew more fierce. I waved my arms, gesticulated, performed _sleight-of-hand_ movements with my fingers, and in fact exhibited such manifest tokens of ability to take a ”first-cla.s.s” at Earlswood (England), that the man retreated to make inquiry respecting me, and I breathed again.
What was my late companion doing all this time? He had apparently deserted me, and this after all my lavish--in a Chinese sense--expenditure of _cash_. Again my bad feelings predominated, and I felt truly disgusted with my ”luck.” There was no loophole for escape, and though the disappearance of the sergeant was a blessing, it might really result in death.
The man had left me alone in the hut,--I cannot call it house,--and when my ill temper had quickly evaporated I began to think of escape.
The door was open to the pa.s.sage or side street, and when I peeped out I perceived a soldier, armed, standing sentry at the end of the _cul de sac_, as the alley was. Escape seemed impossible. I was again a prisoner; whither could I go, what could I do were the thoughts which surged through my excited brain. The Chinese (or Manchu) soldier had me in his keeping, and perhaps had orders to kill me if I attempted to escape, pending the return of the lieutenant of the guard. Meantime, I was absolutely helpless. In any ”civilised” country one might have managed to intercede for oneself, but there in Manchuria the case was different. I was lost!--strayed!
During the minutes already at my disposal I considered all the available plans of evasion I had heard of. Captives in stories, and in all the imaginative books which I had devoured, always had a friend who, whether a Freemason or not, had means at hand to circ.u.mvent the villain! But there was no villain in my case; nothing unusual, nothing out of the way in my circ.u.mstances, and this dead-level of experience appeared devoid of any person who could undertake the role of the ”G.o.d in the machine,” and release me. Here was the sentry, there the lofty gate, its platform surmounted by a two-storeyed tower, from which the advance of the enemy was doubtless perceived, or would shortly be perceived. Neither sentinel nor entrance seemed likely to afford me pa.s.sage. Ah! the sentry was approaching. I shrank back into the hut, and peeped through the opening of the door. The sentry came on slowly and somewhat limply.
He had a rifle and ammunition, and seemed well equipped. He pa.s.sed the place of my concealment, and I began to hope that he would pa.s.s on, and permit of my escape to the main street, which, being full of people, might afford opportunities for it; but to my disgust he turned, and came directly towards me. As he came nearer I retreated into the gloom of the hut, and not perceiving me, he came in. Still uncertain, he advanced carelessly, I fancied, and at that moment something prompted me to make a decided effort at release.
He was carrying his rifle on his arm above the elbow, not in any European soldierly manner; a sword or bayonet was at his side.
Suddenly I made a spring like a tiger upon the man, and in a second had him thrown. He struggled manfully, and attempted to strike me with a knife, but I was half-maddened, youthful, and strong. I hit him violently between the eyes, and dazed him; then wresting the rifle from his relaxed grasp, I banged it upon his head in a manner which I afterwards regretted, and darted from the hut. As I ran into the alley I encountered my late guide, who was then coming in search of me.
His surprise was genuine, and he made some inquiries by the pantomime method, a.s.sisting it by a few words, which I interpreted to indicate surprise at my escape. I told him in the same tongue what had happened, and he was aghast at my temerity! He dragged me back at once hastily, and I was unable to resist him. When he saw the unconscious soldier he became calmer, but still apparently greatly in the same haste, motioning me to a.s.sist in taking off the man's outward dress.
Seeing some prospect of escape, I helped him, and then putting his own clothes upon the soldier, who never stirred all the time, but lay pa.s.sive as the dead, my guide quickly dragged me out with him, a prisoner, having first hidden the rifle and ammunition, keeping the sword of the sentry.
But I understood his plan. Armed he might a.s.sist me, and quit the town in the dusk of the evening. Proceeding by side streets, and avoiding the largest--all very small--thoroughfares, my rescuer reached a house at which he was recognised as I supposed, but I was wrong. He had merely brought me to an opium-house, where he intended to remain a while till an opportunity arose for leaving the city.
This was a most dreadful experience, because, of course, the idea of opium smoking to me was abhorrent. To lie there upon one of those hard bed-planks, inhaling a pipeful of sticky stuff, which though exceedingly minute, is always--at first at anyrate--most sickly. My guide seemed to think it essential, I supposed, to my safety, and I made s.h.i.+ft to comply with his suggestions, but speedily became unconscious, which, I presume, he desired.
My sensations were _at first_ unpleasant. As a smoker of tobacco I have had my most deadly experiences when learning to smoke, but certainly in my case the attempt I made was not so unpleasant in Kinchow opium smoking. But the moral effect of the surroundings was bad, and even though acknowledging the risk and my guide's anxiety, I would not attempt opium again. The flavour is not unpleasant, and is rather aromatic perhaps. The smoke is inhaled as usual, and expelled by the nostrils. Before I became unconscious I felt quite happy, and full of a pleasant sense of content, as if ”I wouldn't call the Emperor of China my uncle”! This happiness lasted into oblivion, into which I was lulled that evening by the sound of cannon-fire.
Unfortunately I cannot tell how long I remained in the den, because the Chinese have no clocks, and those which are imported from America and elsewhere are not in favour with the people. The day had died, and I felt rather ”seedy” when I made an effort to get up. The cannonade and firing continued at a distance during my sleep, and later, when I made a serious attempt to rouse myself, I heard the roar of distant guns. I suppose that when the effects of the opium had pa.s.sed away I had slept, and in my dreams heard the noise. Daylight was near then, and when I could plainly discern things I discovered that I had been carried into another room, and was alone.
This did not alarm me, because all was perfectly still in the house.