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STOLEN IDOLS
by
E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
BostonLittle, Brown, and Company1925
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Copyright, 1925,By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
All rights reserved
Published May, 1925
Printed in the United States of America
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STOLEN IDOLS
BOOK ONE
CHAPTER I
The two ships, pursuer and pursued, quaintly shaped, with heavy,flapping sails, lay apparently becalmed in a sort of natural basinformed by the junction of two silently flowing, turgid rivers--riverswhose water was thick and oily, yellow in colour, unpleasant to look at.The country through which they passed was swamp-riven and desolate,though in the far distance were rice fields and the curiously fashionedroofs of a Chinese village. The sun beat down upon the glasslike water.The air was windless. Further movement seemed impossible until from thesmaller boat, through unexpectedly opened hatches, half a dozen oarswere suddenly thrust into the water. The huge Chinaman who stood at thehelm, yellow-skinned and naked to the waist, picked up an enormous poleand let it gradually down into the river bed. The oars, languidly thoughthey were wielded, cut the water, and the dhow began slowly to move. WuAbst, the Mighty Terror of the Great River, as he loved to hear himselfdescribed, grinned mockingly as he looked backwards towards his pursuer.He shouted words through the glistening heat intended to convey hiscontempt of those who fancied that he was to be caught napping. Then hebent over his giant pole and glanced with satisfaction at the distantbank, which already showed signs of their progress. At the bend of theriver, not three miles distant, was a stretch of water into which nosuch craft as that which had chased him could follow. He relit his pipe,therefore, and smoked like a man at peace, whilst below the sweat rolledfrom the naked bodies of the men who were emulating their Romanpredecessors of two thousand years ago. Wu Abst, pleased with theirefforts, shipped his pole for a moment, and, leaning over the side,shouted encouragement and exhortation to the toilers. Then suddenly thewords died away upon his lips. His whole frame stiffened. The remains ofthe grin faded from his face, the whole expression of which was nowalmost ludicrously changed. For across that little stretch of river camethe horrible sound of which he had heard, the pop-pop-pop denoting theuse of some devil-made mechanical contrivance, which triumphed overwindless airs and opposing currents.
His horrified gaze became fastened upon the pursuing ship, now alsomoving, and not only moving, but moving very much faster than anythingwhich all the efforts of his toiling gang were able to accomplish.Bewilderment gave place to anger, which in its turn became merged almostat once in the philosophy of his race--the graveyard of all emotions! Heshouted an order to those down below. There was a clatter and a rumbleas the men shipped their oars, and another more metallic sound as theyexchanged them for other weapons.
Wu Abst thrust his hand through the window of a small cuddy hole, whichhe called his cabin, and drew out a long, antiquated rifle. It was oneof a type manufactured in Birmingham fifty years ago, rejected sincethen by every South American band of patriots planning a revolution, andscoffed at even by West African savages. He nevertheless dropped acartridge into its place and waited whilst the other ship glided almostalongside. His eyes swept its deck, and his bloodthirsty intentions werepromptly changed. With expressionless face he slipped his weapon backagain through the cuddy hole and called down another order below. Thenhe leaned over the rail and raised his hand in salute. A man who wasseated aft in a basket chair upon the deck of the approaching ship, roseto his feet and came to the side. He wore Chinese garb and he spoke inChinese, but his linen clothes were spotlessly white and he wore nopigtail.
"Are you Wu Abst, the river pirate?" he called out.
"I am Wu Abst," was the reply. "And who are you?"
"I am Wu Ling, the peaceful trader," the other answered. "I bringprosperity to those whom you seek to rob."
Wu Abst spat into the river.
"I know of you," he growled. "You trade with foreign money. You take thejade and the gems, the silk and the handiwork of these people and sellthem rubbish."
"Where I take," the other rejoined, "I give something in return, whichis more than you do."
"What is your business with me?" Wu Abst demanded, glancing sullenly atthe two Maxim guns trained upon him, behind each of which was seated,cross-legged, a brawny and capable-looking Chinese sailor.
"Last night," Wu Ling announced, "I traded at the village of Hyest, andI heard a strange tale. I heard that you had on board your ship aforeigner tied with ropes, and that you were waiting to reach your ownstretches to throw him to the crocodiles. Is this the truth, Wu Abst, oram I to search your ship?"
"It is the truth," the other admitted grimly. "He is a foreign devil whomerits death and even torture. He is a thief and a sacrilegious pestupon the earth."
"You speak hard words of him," Wu Ling observed.
"What words other than hard can be spoken of such?" Wu Abst retorted."Presently I shall tell you of his deeds. I like not your speech, WuLing. You speak our tongue but speak it strangely. There are rumours ofyou in many places. There are some who say that not only is the moneywith which you trade the money of foreign devils, but that you, too, areone of them in spirit if not by birth."
"What I am is none of the present business," Wu Ling declared. "What ofthis prisoner of yours?"
"I shall speak of him now," Wu Abst answered. "Then, if you are indeed aman of this country, you shall see that I do no evil thing in castinghim to the crocodiles. He was caught, a thief in the sacred temple ofthe sacred village of Nilkaya, in the temple where the Great Emperorhimself was used to worship. The priests who caught him tied his bodywith ropes--not I. They brought him to the riverside, and they gave mesilver to deal with him."
"Your story is true," Wu Ling admitted. "The circumstances you relateare known to me. But there were two of these robbers. What of the other,his companion?"
"The priests say that he escaped, and with him the two sacred Images ofthe great God, reverenced for nine hundred years," the pirate confided."It is because of the escape of the other that they wish to make sure ofthe death of this one."
Wu Ling considered for a moment.
"Wu Abst," he pronounced at last, "you have told me a true story, andyou have acted in this matter as a just man. Therefore these guns ofmine shall bring no message of evil to you, nor shall I declare war, solong as you keep to your side of the river and above the villages whereI trade. But as for the foreign devil, you must hand him over to me."
Wu Abst raised his hands to heaven. For a time his speech was almostincomprehensible. He was stricken with a fit of anger. He shouted andpleaded until he foamed at the mouth. Wu Ling listened unmoved. When atlast there was silence he spoke.
"It is clear to me what you intended, Wu Abst," he said. "There was tobe torture and more silver from the priests before you cast thisprisoner to the sea fish."
"It is a hard living that one makes nowadays," Wu Abst, the Terror ofthe River, muttered.
"Nevertheless in this matter I am firm," the other insisted. "Hand meover the foreigner and go your way. You know of me. I travel intodangerous places when I leave my ship, and I have a score of men belowwho could hew their way through a regiment of your cutthroats, and a gunin the bows there which would send you to the bottom with a singledischarge. I am your master, Wu Abst, and I command. Bring me theforeigner and go your way."
* * * * *
That evening seemed to the released man like a foretaste of paradise. Helay on a couch in Wu Ling's cabin, with the roof and sides rolled backand nothing but a cunning arrangement of mosquito netting between himand the violet twilight. Above was the moon and the brilliantly starlitnight; on either side occasional groves of trees--trees growing almostdown to the river's edge, some with poisonous odours, others almostsickly sweet. Sometimes there was a light from a distant village, butmore often they were enveloped in a thick, velvety darkness. And theywere pointing for the great port at the mouth of the river, and safety.The released man was sipping brandy and water, and smoking. His host satopposite him, grave and enigmatic.
"I talk English little," Wu Ling said, "but I understand all. Speak yourstory, and tell how called."
The young man raised himself slightly.
"My name is Gregory Ballaston," he announced. "I am an Englishman, asyou know, a traveller and fond of adventure. For years this story of thetemple of Nilkaya has been in my brain. I heard all about it from someone who lived in Pekin for many years."
"The story?" Wu Ling enquired politely.
"In this temple," the young man narrated, "is a great statue of aChinese god--Buddha, I suppose--and on either side of it are two smallerones made from hard wood, marvellously carved, and, some say, a thousandyears old. Each is supposed to be a counterpart of the greater God, andyet they demonstrate an amazingly presented allegory. They bear alikeness to one another, they bear a likeness to the God himself, buteach is curiously different. In one you seem to trace the whole of theevil qualities which could ever enter into the character of man, and inthe other, all the good qualities. One is hideous and the otherbeautiful. Yet, if you put them side by side and glance quickly from oneto the other, the two seem to grow together so that the impression ofthe Image which is left in your mind is that of the great God above.They are called the Body and the Soul."
"This story I have heard," Wu Ling admitted.
"I have heard it many times, but I scarcely believed it--until I saw,"the young man continued. "I had only a few minutes in the temple andthere was danger all around, yet for a moment they took my breath away.I could scarcely move. Why, the man who fashioned them might have beenan oriental Phidias."
"Proceed," Wu Ling begged.
"Well, the point of the story is this. Generations ago there was a greatrising amongst the people, an invasion from the north, and robbers seemto have overrun the whole place. They sacked even the temples, and thepriests--those who had warning of their coming--stripped their robes andtheir temples of all the precious stones which they possessed, and hidthem."
"Hid them," Wu Ling repeated. "Ah!"
"Some of this story, you have, of course, heard," the young man went on,"because your trade brings you, I suppose, within a hundred miles ofNilkaya. The temples were rich in jewels--the emperors of China had sentthem gifts for centuries--and the legend is that all the most valuablewere concealed within these two Images--the Body and the Soul."
"That," Wu Ling commented, "is a strange story."
"As I told you," the young man continued, "I heard it from one who livedin Pekin and I believe that it is the truth. For centuries the priestshave possessed a manuscript which has been handed down from one HighPriest to the other, and this manuscript tells how these Images havebeen fashioned, so that there is within them a hollow place. There aredirections for finding it, and for opening the Images, and they say thatwithout these directions no man in the world could guess how to do it. Ihave spoken with one who has visited the temple, and who was not quiteso much pressed for time as I was, who has seen these Images only a fewfeet away, and who insists upon it that there is not a sign of anypossible aperture or any break in the wood."
"A simple thing," Wu Ling suggested blandly, "would be to break withchoppers."
The young man raised his eyebrows.
"It is strange to hear you, a Chinaman, propose such a thing," heremarked. "I suppose any one who attempted it in this country wouldsooner or later be cut into small pieces, for these Images are blessedjust as the larger one. But there is another reason against attemptingsuch a thing. You are a very wonderful race, you Chinese, and you weremore wonderful still, generations ago."
"Ah!" Wu Ling murmured.
"There are plenty of people," the young man proceeded, "who say thatthere is scarcely a discovery in the world which you have notanticipated and then declined to use because the central tenet of yourreligion and your philosophy was to leave things that are. Well, theysay that you discovered gunpowder and all manner of explosives about thetime these Images were fashioned. They must always, from the first, havebeen intended for a possible hiding place, for the old legend concerningthem--I know this from the only European who has ever visited thetemple--declared that if these are subjected to violence in any way,then the earthquake follows. The priests all believe this implicitly,and, although it sounds a far-fetched idea, the man who first told methe story is convinced that when the jewels were stored away inside,they were imbedded in some sort of explosive."
"It becomes more than ever a strange story," Wu Ling said didactically.
The young man looked searchingly for a moment at his host. Was it hisfancy, he wondered, or was there a faint note of sardonic disbelief inhis even tone?
"Of course," he went on, "it must sound to you, as it does to me,although you would scarcely understand the word, like rot, but the manfrom whom I heard it was a great person in Pekin, a friend even of theEmperor, and not only of the Emperor, but of the Emperor's great adviserwhom some people think the greatest Chinaman who ever lived. He hadprivileges which had never before been extended to any European."
Wu Ling nodded gravely.
"So," he said, with the painstaking air of one trying to solve aproblem, "you were seeking to take Images from temple, away from prieststo whom belong, that you might possess jewels."
The young man coughed. Somehow or other Wu Ling's eyes were verypenetrating.
"Well," he admitted, "I suppose in a way it was robbery, but robbery ona legitimate scale. I don't suppose you've read much European history,have you?"
"Read never," Wu Ling replied.
"That makes it difficult to explain," his companion regretted, pausingfor a moment to breathe in, with great satisfaction, a gulp of the coolnight air. "However, most of the territories in different parts of theworld which England possesses and a great deal of her inherited wealth,have come because centuries ago Englishmen went across the seas to everycountry in the world and helped themselves to pretty well what theywanted."
"That," Wu Ling remarked, "sounds like Wu Abst, the pirate."
Gregory Ballaston smiled.
"Well," he continued, "the invasion of a foreign country for purposes ofaggrandisement is robbery, I suppose, only, you see, it is robbery on abig scale. We looked at this present affair in the same way. If it istrue that there are a million pounds' worth of jewels in these images,what good can they possibly do to any one hidden there for centuries? Noone could see them. No one could derive any good from them. Their verybeauty is lost to the world. Robbery, if you like, Wu Ling, but notpetty larceny."
Wu Ling
shook his head with an uncomprehending smile.
"Of course you won't understand that," the other observed. "Still, whatI mean to say is, that the very danger of the exploit, the fact that yourisk your life--look how near I came to losing mine!--makes theenterprise almost worth while. Nothing mean about it, anyway."
"Ah!" Wu Ling murmured meditatively. "And now please tell, whereImages?"
The young man was silent.
"That's a long story, Wu Ling," he sighed. "There were two of us inthis. The other got away. He didn't desert me exactly. It was accordingto plan, but he had to leave first, and he left damned quick."
"And the Images?" Wu Ling persisted softly.
Gregory Ballaston leaned back. The night had become a thing ofsplendour, the water, no longer yellow, but glittering with thereflection of the moon. They were passing through a narrow strip ofcountry which might have been the garden of some great nobleman'spalace. There were flowering shrubs down to the river's edge, a faintperfume of almond blossom, in the distance a stronger scent of somethinglike eucalyptus, and all the time a divine silence. After his terriblequarters in the pirate ship this was a dream of luxury. The young manwas full of gratitude to his benefactor, and yet he hesitated. Could onetrust any Chinaman, even though he has saved one's life, with a secretlike this?
"The Images no longer stand in the Temple, Wu Ling," he said, "but justwhere they are now I do not know. It was my part of the affair--if youunderstand military language--to fight a rearguard action. I did, butthere were too many of them for me. They fought like furies, thosepriests. I might have killed them, but I hadn't the heart to do it. Ishot one or two in the limbs, and then chucked it when I saw it was nouse. Whether my friend succeeded in getting away with the Images or not,I shall not know for many days."
They passed a tiny village. From a plastered house with a curving roof,two lanterns were hanging. A girl's figure was dimly visible through thestrings of thin bamboo, rustling musically together in the breeze. Shewas singing to a kind of guitar, an amazing melody, uncouth in its way,and unintelligible. Yet the young man turned over and smiled as helistened.
"Is there no other thing but money to be desired amongst you of theWest," Wu Ling asked, "that even in youth you risk so much?"
Gregory Ballaston clasped his hands behind his head. He was gazingsteadily up at the stars, listening to the melody dying away in thedistance. Although he addressed his companion, he had the air of onesoliloquising.
"The further West you go, Wu Ling," he said, "the more you need money totaste life. Artistically, of course, it's all wrong, but then theworld's all wrong. It's slipped out of shape somehow, during the lastthousand years. We aren't natural any longer. The natural person acceptspleasure, but doesn't seek it. Directly you seek, you begin a terriblechase, and we're all seekers over westward, Wu Ling. We have lost theart of being. We have lost the gift of repose. We have lost the capacityfor quiet enjoyments. Sport, ambitions and love-making have all joinedin the debacle. No one man can live alone and away from his fellows,even if he sees into the evil of these things. All life to us has cometo run on wheels which need always the oil of money."
"And for the chance of gaining that," Wu Ling murmured, "you youngEnglishmen have come so far and risked your lives."
The young man looked round the cabin and beyond. There was a rack ofrifles against the wall, boxes of ammunition which reached to theceiling. The moonlight outside glinted now and then upon the muzzles ofthe Maxims.
"You yourself, Wu Ling," he pointed out, "run risks. For what? For thesame thing. For wealth. You wouldn't carry those firearms unless you hadtrouble sometimes. You are past the time of life when an adventure aloneappeals. You too seek wealth, and you seek it with Maxim guns andEnfield rifles to protect yourself."
"There are evil men upon the river," Wu Ling admitted. "There are menlike Abst and others, but these are for protection. We have a proverb inthis country--'The strong man only is safe.'"
"A wise saying," the young man acknowledged drowsily.
Wu Ling rose to his feet.
"Our guest must sleep," he said. "Soon the night will be cold and theywill draw coverings over the netting."
"I'm awfully afraid I'm turning you out of your quarters," GregoryBallaston apologised.
"I have others," was the courteous reply. "It is for sleep I leave you."
He passed out and, walking to the stern of the boat, stood pensivelywatching a little streak of silver left behind. Forward the young manslept--slept as he had never hoped to do again in this world. Allthrough the night they made lazy progress towards the great city whichfringed the ocean.
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