The Stone Dragon

by Peter Watt

  ‘We need to rest,’ John had said, although Tung did not appear to be tiring.

  ‘We will rest,’ Tung agreed without argument. ‘I will stand guard.’

  John was grateful and under the dim light of the disappearing stars they moved to a copse of spindly trees to seek sleep, which came easily to each of them after the nightlong trek.

  ‘Wake up,’ a voice reached into John’s troubled dreams. ‘Dawn will be upon us very soon.’

  John sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to peer at a broad orange glow appearing all along the horizon to the east. A small fire was burning and Tung had already warmed the clumps of sticky rice in a small pot they had taken from the bandits’ camp.

  ‘The city is closer than we thought,’ Tung said to John, handing him his share of the meagre meal. ‘All going well we will be able to reach the outer walls by noon.’

  ‘You realise that we will be crossing open plains in broad daylight,’ John cautioned. ‘I somehow think that we are going to stand out a bit.’

  Tung gazed across the plains and reflected on the problem. In the distance they could see a small caravan of around fifty camels winding its way west. ‘How much money do you have?’ he asked.

  ‘Enough to keep us going,’ John replied.

  ‘I think we can intercept one of the caravans and negotiate to travel with them to the city,’ Tung said. ‘They are men from Mongolia and have no interest in our affairs but do understand the value of British currency. By travelling with them we can pose as guards with the arms you and Andrew carry.’

  John thought about the scheme. He sensed that he was so close to his daughter now that the idea was worth the risk. ‘We will do it,’ he said.

  ‘We will wait here until one draws close and I will talk to them,’ Tung said.

  John agreed and passed on the plan to Andrew and Liling, who sat side by side on the other side of the fire.

  By mid-morning the caravan had wended its way towards their position under the trees. Tung approached the leader, a short stocky man with a flat, broad face darkened by many years of exposure to the weather. John had ensured they remained hidden and trained his rifle on the leader in case things went wrong. It was a tense period of uncertainty until Tung turned to walk back to them.

  ‘It is done,’ he said and the three rose from their hide. ‘They have agreed to allow us to travel with them into the city for ten English pounds. But keep a wary eye on all of them,’ Tung continued. ‘They are not to be trusted. The bandits we killed last night are of the same people as these.’

  Warning in mind, they fell in with the caravan. By noon the mighty stone walls of Pekin loomed over the heat-baked plains. Above the walls columns of smoke could be seen rising to blot the pale blue skies.

  ‘Pekin,’ Andrew, walking beside Liling and his father, said with a touch of awe.

  ‘Impressive,’ John replied. ‘The city of the Empress and her court – and a lot of Boxers. Now, all we have to do is find your sister and go home.’ But even as John articulated the purpose of their hazardous mission, he knew that getting to the city was one thing and getting his beloved daughter home was another matter altogether. He brooded as they plodded towards the city that was already cut off from the rest of the world.

  Despite Tung’s suspicions concerning the honesty of the men from the sweeping deserts of the Gobi, they were able to smuggle him and his travelling companions into Pekin safely. The leader accepted the payment of British coins and left the foreigners to make their own way to wherever they planned within the city.

  John gripped his rifle with his finger not far from the trigger guard, gazing around at the almost deserted streets. A few brave merchants were continuing to ply their wares and there was some movement of wooden wheelbarrows being pushed by sinewy Chinese conveying their wares to the merchants’ stalls. The dust and stench was almost overpowering after being on the river and crossing the hills and plains.

  Andrew stood in awe of their surroundings. He had read much about the Orient and Pekin seemed to epitomise all he had imagined with the different Asian faces he saw on the streets: men from Mongolia, the taller Chinese from the north and the paler-skinned Cantonese from the south. Every now and then Andrew recognised the slightest whiff of a familiar incense or herb from his father’s own store.

  Liling also seemed to be in awe. She had only heard this city spoken of by more senior members of her fishing village who may at some time have visited Pekin.

  ‘I will leave you now,’ Tung said, cutting across their reflections on the mysterious city that held the forbidden palace of the Empress. ‘My mission will be complete when I return the money to my master. You will need to travel in the direction of the Forbidden City along this road and next to it you will find the European legations. I suspect that under the current conditions your daughter will have sought refuge there. I thank you for your friendship that has helped me complete my mission and I pray that the Son of Heaven also hears of how you helped me. People you meet will direct you to the legation but try to avoid any soldiers. I have a written pass for you,’ Tung continued, handing John a sheet of parchment. ‘Should you encounter any soldiers or Boxer warriors show their leader this.’

  John stared at the sheet of paper upon which were written Chinese characters. ‘What does it say?’ John asked.

  ‘It states that you are under the protection of a general of the Empress and must be allowed safe passage. The general signed the paper for me but I have altered it to include your names as well.’

  ‘But why will it work?’ John asked.

  ‘Because the general named in the pass is most powerful and he is also my uncle,’ Tung replied with a faint smile at the surprise he saw in John’s face. ‘I doubt that any Imperial soldier or Boxer would dare take action without first ensuring the authenticity of the pass.’

  John stared at Tung and wondered at this mysterious man. Who was he exactly? No matter who he was, his help had got them this far and now John was on the verge of finding his daughter. ‘Thank you, Tung,’ John said, holding out his hand in the Western tradition.

  Tung accepted John’s extended hand. ‘It is I who should thank you,’ he replied. ‘Without probably knowing it, you have done a great service for my country. Soon, we will be a free and sovereign nation to rule ourselves and the rightful Emperor will usurp the court of the Empress, regaining his God-given role as head of our new nation.’

  The words that rolled from Tung’s tongue were laden with the same conviction that was reflected in his eyes. The former Shaolin priest was a man of action and John could believe that what he said could come about with men such as he to fight for their cause. But at what cost? John had no doubt that Tung was a revolutionary and most probably a Boxer warrior.

  ‘I hope that we meet again,’ John said, releasing the grip. ‘In better times.’

  ‘So do I, old warrior,’ Tung replied with a grim smile. ‘You are a worthy man whose Chinese blood is strong.’

  Tung turned to Andrew and Liling. ‘Andrew, remember all that I have spoken of,’ he said. ‘My country needs such men as you.’

  Andrew nodded, stretching out his hand to his friend. ‘And you, sister,’ Tung said, addressing Liling. ‘You are a true daughter of this land. You have proved that many times.’

  Liling was overwhelmed by his words and looked down shyly, but her face was radiant with the praise she received from this man whose spiritual aura was so strong.

  Tung turned and walked alone along the street.

  John carefully folded the paper pass and placed it into his pocket. He was puzzled by Tung’s comment to his son. When he had the opportunity he would ask Andrew what Tung meant. Hefting his rifle he turned to his son and Liling. ‘Time to go,’ he said and they commenced walking in the direction Tung had pointed out.

  Very soon they would see the walls of the Forbidden City loom before them and they were fortunate that they were not accosted by the armed Boxers and soldiers they passed on the
ir way to the compound. It was as if some of Tung’s aura had rubbed off on them.

  ‘What did Tung mean when he said China needed men like you?’ John finally asked his son as they walked towards the barricades manned by soldiers John recognised as British.

  ‘Nothing really,’ Andrew replied evasively. ‘Just an expression of his, I guess.’

  Andrew’s answer did not satisfy John but he had no further chance to question him as a nervous British soldier raised his rifle and called in English for them to halt. John carefully placed his rifle on the street, and raised his hands, replying loudly, ‘Don’t shoot me, you Pommy bastards, I’m an Australian.’

  His broad accent and appearance that seemed at odds with it almost felled the young British soldier.

  A British officer manning the barricade turned to the soldier who had issued the challenge. ‘Don’t shoot him, soldier,’ he said in a commanding voice. ‘He is a damned colonial from his accent, but probably deserves shooting all the same, for being cheeky.’

  ‘Approach, old chap,’ the officer called back. ‘Just be careful where you point that rifle.’

  John stooped to pick up the rifle and strode towards the barricade where the contingent of British soldiers gawked at the big broad-shouldered Chinese man who spoke English with a colonial accent striding confidently towards them.

  ‘John Wong out of Queensland,’ John said when he was allowed through the barricade and was standing before the British officer. ‘This is my son, Andrew, and the young lady who speaks no English is Liling. I am here to meet with my daughter, Miss Naomi Wong.’

  John wondered at the stricken expression that suddenly appeared on the British officer’s face. Then unexpectedly the officer thrust out his hand. ‘I am Lieutenant Robert Mumford,’ he said. ‘And I have news of your daughter that I wish could be better. Please accompany me back to our legation.’

  John accepted the handshake but frowned at the young British officer’s tone. A father’s worst nightmare could be contained in the way the words had been expressed by the officer.

  ‘My daughter?’ John asked, hoping that his voice would not crack. ‘What news do you have?’

  ‘I think that we should return to the legation, Mr Wong. It is best that we get you and your son a cup of tea before speaking of your daughter.’

  Shaken, John and Andrew, with Liling in tow, followed Robert. Liling had not understood the conversation but from the expression on Andrew’s face she knew that something was terribly wrong.

  Over the promised cup of tea Robert explained that Naomi was missing and told them what he knew of the circumstances behind her abduction. Considering the situation, he felt it wise not to add that he was in love with this fiercelooking man’s daughter.

  ‘Your daughter has spoken of your colourful past, Mr Wong,’ Robert said, sipping his tea. ‘Your added rifle and you will be a welcome addition to our defences. And your son’s skills in medicine will be of great help at our hospital. I am sure that Dr Morrison, a fellow countryman of yours, will appreciate his assistance.’

  ‘I am here to find my sister, Mr Mumford,’ Andrew said. ‘I doubt that my father and I will be remaining after we have found her.’

  ‘If you find Miss Wong,’ Robert replied, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, ‘I do not think that it would be wise to attempt to travel under the current circumstances. Granted, your appearance gives you an advantage but the Boxers do discriminate between Chinese people and I suspect that neither of you would be able to completely pass as people born in this country. It would be better that you remained with us until we are relieved by our British naval forces.’

  ‘I appreciate your concern, Mr Mumford,’ John said. ‘But we have already risked much just getting here and my only desire is to get my daughter out of this situation, as you call it.’

  Robert put down his cup. He walked to the window of his quarters to gaze at the bedlam in the street. He had learned that around 4000 people now sought refuge within the walls of the legation compound. Of these, around 473 were civilians, an equal number were European or American soldiers, while the remainder were Chinese converts. Most of those from eighteen nations represented were crowded into the British legation quarter and shared the limited space with a flock of sheep, a cow and some Chinese ponies and mules. Trunks of clothes, mattresses and bedding spilled over into the crowded street while harried British civil servants pointed the way to a recently refurbished chapel which would provide shelter for refugees of every denomination. Robert wondered how they would feed the refugees but dismissed the thought when he reminded himself that he was a soldier whose duty was to defend those same people. Feeding was someone else’s problem.

  ‘You are welcome to share my Spartan quarters,’ Robert suddenly said, turning with his hands behind his back. ‘Feel free to use my name if you need anything and I can ask Dr Morrison to provide quarters for your Chinese girl.’

  Both John and Andrew looked at each other in surprise. This total stranger had offered to share his quarters with them.

  ‘That is very generous, Mr Mumford,’ Andrew thanked. ‘But you hardly know us.’

  ‘Let us say that I was – am – very fond of Miss Wong,’ Robert struggled. ‘Her welfare is primary among my nonmilitary priorities. If there is any way I can assist you in finding her, be assured it will be done.’

  John sensed that the British officer was struggling in relation to Naomi but he did not question the man immediately. Was it possible this man was courting his daughter? Strangely, Naomi had not mentioned his name in any of her letters home. ‘Is it that my daughter holds a special interest to you, Mr Mumford?’ he at length asked quietly.

  Robert stared directly at John. ‘It could be said that I have a special interest in your daughter, sir,’ he replied. ‘I have already attempted to locate her, however without any success. But I will do so again when I am able.’

  John did not press the matter. He suspected that his daughter’s beauty crossed all barriers of race. He even felt sympathy for the young British officer who fought to keep his true feelings to himself. ‘We will find her,’ John assured him. ‘I promise you that.’

  ‘You may be able to provide us with valuable information on what you saw and encountered on your journey here,’ Robert said, turning the conversation from the sensitive subject of Naomi. ‘As you can see, we are somewhat besieged and any news from beyond the legation walls is greatly appreciated.’

  John provided a brief outline of their trek from the coast to Pekin, being careful to mention Liling’s invaluable role in assisting them with her family’s sampan. He did not, however, mention Tung or his role in their journey. After all, Tung was a wanted man in the colony of Queensland and John thought it wise to keep the former Shaolin priest out of any report of their affairs.

  Robert listened with interest. ‘Tientsin appears to be cut off as well,’ he sighed heavily. ‘We were hoping to see a relief force come to our assistance by now.’

  ‘We didn’t see any signs of European troops,’ John said.

  ‘Well, I suppose that I should take you over to meet Dr Morrison,’ Robert concluded. ‘I am sure that your Chinese girl could do with some rest, as I suspect so could you.’

  As much as John wanted to set out straightaway into the city in search of his daughter, he also realised just how exhausted they were from the arduous journey.

  Dr George Morrison impressed Andrew from the very outset of their meeting and although dirt-stained and sweating, the tall, charismatic Australian carried the aura of a man in command.

  ‘So you are from Queensland,’ Morrison said, gripping Andrew’s hand firmly. ‘I have visited your colony.’

  ‘Ah, Mr Wong,’ Morrison said, turning to John. ‘Your exploits are not unknown to me.’

  John also fell under the journalist’s spell and when he looked around him he could see a mass of Chinese men, women and children attempting to make a home for themselves in the cramped area.

  Morrison n
oticed John’s interest in the people around them – many he had personally rescued from certain death at the hands of the Boxers. ‘Your linguistic skills will be invaluable to me here,’ he said. ‘At the moment my own grasp of the language is rudimentary at best. It appears, from what Mr Mumford has told me, you are fluent in Mandarin.’

  ‘Not me,’ John confessed. ‘My son, Andrew, is the linguist. I just get by.’

  When Morrison turned his attention to Liling, Andrew could see that the handsome journalist was admiring her. He even introduced himself to Liling in passable Chinese, to which Liling reacted with pleasure. Just for a moment Andrew experienced a pang of jealousy towards this accomplished man but quickly let that feeling go when Morrison immediately returned his attention to Andrew and his father.

  ‘There has been some discussion that able-bodied civilian males will be armed and form a kind of militia to help boost the defences,’ Morrison said. ‘Knowing of your past I would expect you to join our little army, Mr Wong.’

  Although John had not considered staying any longer than it took to find his daughter, under the gaze of Morrison he suddenly found it hard to say no. ‘I suppose I could do that,’ he replied.

  ‘And you, Mr Wong,’ Morrison said, addressing Andrew. ‘I believe that you are a student of my old alma mater in Edinburgh. How far have you advanced?’

  ‘Final year,’ Andrew replied.

  ‘Good, I will need assistance with the hospital when things warm up. Your skills will be invaluable. I hope that you can be of assistance. I can provide quarters for Miss Liling with my female servants as I believe Mr Mumford has provided you with accommodation.’

  ‘Thank you, and it would be an honour to work in the hospital,’ Andrew replied. ‘I am sure that Liling could be trained by me to assist.’

  ‘A good idea,’ Morrison said with a broad smile. ‘I am afraid my duties as a journalist will keep me away from any medical practices.’