A World to Win

by Sinclair, Upton;

  She assumed that these visitors had come because they wished to understand the problems of China, and she talked about them freely. She did not mention any of the other members of her family, but pointed out what she believed were the errors of the regime. Of course it was necessary to expel the Japanese invaders, and to do that China had to have order and discipline; but not even war could suppress the struggle between the people’s interests and those of the exploiters. Even in wartime profits would be made; and who was to get them, the speculators and great monopolists, or the co-operatives, which had shown so well their ability to produce the necessities of both war and peace? The co-operatives were now being stifled by the Chungking government, and worse yet was the blockade against “Red” China; even the medical supplies donated by America were not allowed to cross the line. When a political party which had been formed for the purpose of building up the people’s power changed gradually into a group of politicians selling the privileges of government to the highest bidder, it became necessary to make that fact known and to keep it before the people.

  Lanny, lover of peace, asked what she thought could be done about the problem of Japan. The reply was that it was the same problem as in China; the great families made use of both militarists and statesmen to increase their wealth and strengthen their hold upon the people’s means of life. The people did not want wars; the people were willing to work and produce, and asked only to retain the fruits of their labor. But those who exploited labor had to increase their holdings, to protect themselves against rival groups; they had to find markets abroad, because the masses at home did not have the money to buy the products of industry. “Our hope lies in the co-operatives, Mr. Budd, and in the co-operative method of production and distribution.”

  Lanny would have liked to say: “I agree with you entirely.” But with the caution which had become second nature, he told her: “What you say is extremely interesting, and I promise that I will investigate the subject.”

  The “Pink” lady replied: “There is a great co-operative movement in your own country, but it is an unfashionable affair, an achievement of the plain people, and it probably does not get the headlines very often in your capitalist press.”

  VII

  Lanny had promised to keep in touch with the yacht, and he had left word where he and the two ladies were to spend that evening. Now the telephone rang and it was Reverdy, asking if he might speak to Mr. Budd. “I thought you would want to know that we are to leave the first thing in the morning. Sir Mark takes a very serious view of the situation and does not think that any vessel having women on board should remain here. He tells me that the Japs have just doubled their forces in Indo-China, and also that a battlefleet has been observed near their mandated islands, very close to where we passed. Sir Mark thinks they are contemplating some move against British positions. He has arranged for us to have a special permit to get fuel tomorrow morning.”

  “O.K. by me,” Lanny replied. “Our party will be leaving for the yacht within an hour or so.”

  “I’ll be staying a while longer with the Governor. Lizbeth has gone with one of his aides to a dance at the Peninsular Hotel, which is in Kowloon. You might go there and join her, if you like. She is being taken in a government launch, and you three can be brought to the yacht in that.”

  “I’ll ask the others,” said Lanny, “but my guess is they’ll prefer to return as we came. We have been sightseeing all day, and you know it’s usually pretty late before those dances break up. And besides, we aren’t dressed.”

  “As you please,” replied Reverdy. “Be sure you reach the yacht by daylight.”

  Lanny reported this to the company, and they discussed the Governor’s information. Mr. Foo declared it was difficult to forecast the actions of the Japanese, because the Army and the Navy were separate groups, and independent to an extent unimaginable in Western lands; they did not always tell the government what they were planning, and sometimes they didn’t even tell each other. The great Kwantung Army undoubtedly wanted to cut the Trans-Siberian railroad and squeeze the Russians out of Eastern Asia; the Navy undoubtedly wanted to get hold of the Dutch East Indies, with their fabulous wealth of rubber and oil and tin. Why they should be reinforcing their troops in Indo-China was hard to imagine, unless they were aiming an attack upon Singapore. Why they should send a battlefleet to their mandated islands so far to the east was even harder to explain—unless they were mad enough to be contemplating a raid upon Australia.

  So it was that amateur strategists speculated and debated, not merely in Hongkong but in every spot on land and sea where there was a radio set and people to turn the dials. That Saturday night was Friday on the other side of the world; it was December 5 in “the States,” and December 6 in Hongkong and Manila. Everywhere there were groups of sober-minded people asking with fear what was going to become of their world; and everywhere there were larger groups of light-minded people and the young, dancing to the pounding of drums, the moaning of saxophones, and the blaring of stopped trumpets.

  VIII

  Laurel, always tactful, suggested that they might be keeping their hostess too long, but Madame Sun said that she was enjoying their company. When Lanny mentioned the dance at the hotel, Mr. Foo remarked that it was being given for the benefit of the Chinese-British Bomber Fund, and he thought it might be a good thing if Ching-Ling were to show herself there, if only for a few minutes. Madame assented, saying: “I have to keep in touch with my rich friends. I am able to shame many of them into giving for our causes.”

  She excused herself for a few minutes, and came back wearing a handsome Mandarin gown of black silk with embroidery of gold. There was plenty of time, Mr. Foo assured them, and they drove to the Peninsular Hotel, an immense structure facing Hongkong about a mile across the bay. The Chinese city surrounded it, with shopping streets built with arcades, so that you could walk for a mile or two sheltered from sun and rain. The streets were so crowded that it was hard to walk there at all, but a skillful Chinese chauffeur was able to deliver them to the hotel, and they went up to the second floor, where two great ballrooms were thronged with dancers.

  Hongkong was proud of its social life, and made it a point of prestige to continue it in spite of all opposition, whether of nature or man. The fact that there were fifty thousand Japanese troops forming a semicircle about the territory, as close at some points as fifteen miles, was no reason why smart society should give up breakfast parties followed by horseback rides, luncheons followed by sailing parties or bridge, dinners followed by dances. Then, too, there was the horse racing at the Happy Valley track; and between all the other doings there were whisky-sodas! To have given up any of all this would have been to lose face with one’s Chinese allies, and with the servants. News spread with the speed of lightning in the crowded arcades, and when in this region you had lost face you had nothing left. Hongkong, Gibraltar of the Far East, must never know fear!

  Madame Sun went in, and her friends crowded about her. The three Americans, not being properly costumed, stood in the doorway for a few minutes, watching the picturesque scene. Many of the men were in uniform, British or Chinese; many of the ladies wore costumes which were a compromise between the styles of the two countries. The Chinese girls wore their hair loose; it was slick and shiny, and floated behind them in black cascades. War was coming, and this might be their last chance of happiness. Lanny thought about the ball in Brussels on the night before the battle of Waterloo and which he had read about in Vanity Fair. To the American observer the strangest thing was to see British and Chinese dancing to that music which was called “modern,” and which had come out of the jungles of Africa and been refashioned in the dives of Mississippi river towns and of New York’s Harlem.

  Lanny observed the daughter of the Holdenhursts dancing in the arms of a tall young man in a British Army lieutenant’s uniform. He was handsome and blond, with a trim little mustache. Lizbeth bore every sign of being happy, and Lanny thought perhaps this would be
the great romance of her life; this gallant warrior would whisper into her ear, and promise to come to Green Spring Valley when the war was over; if this were so, the rest of the cruise of the Oriole would be happier for the son of Budd-Erling. He did not know whether she saw him now, and took care not to intrude upon her dream.

  On with the dance! Mr. Foo invited them to have supper in the hotel dining-room, and when they were through it was midnight. They went upstairs for a final glimpse of the dancers, and to say good-by to Madame Sun. As they stood in the doorway the music stopped suddenly, and there was a man standing in the balcony, calling for silence. Later on they learned that he was Mr. Wilson, head of the President Line of steamships and a prominent figure socially. He waved a megaphone, and when he got silence he spoke: “All men connected with ships in the harbor report on board at once. All men belonging to the reserve report for duty at once.”

  So that was the end of the festivities. There were very few white men in Hongkong who didn’t belong to one or the other of these categories, and they faded suddenly out of the picture, leaving the women to gather in little groups, pale in spite of their war paint. There was only one thing it could possibly mean—the Japanese enemy. Where was he, and what was he doing or threatening? Mr. Foo said: “Madame will know,” and went to ask her. She, as sister-in-law of the “Gissimo,” would have the right to share military secrets; and presently the elderly merchant came back and reported: “Big fleet Japanese ships near. All ships in port ordered leave tonight or next night. Very bad situation. You go to yacht quick.”

  IX

  That was indeed a serious matter, and they wasted no time in discussion. Madame Sun would be taken home by other friends. Mr. Foo would take the three passengers in his car. Dr. Carroll, who was not going on the yacht, would spend the night at Mr. Foo’s home. They hurried down to the front of the hotel, where a press of people were calling for their cars, for taxis or rickshaws. After some delay they found their host’s car, and made their way to the Star ferry, as it was called. There they found a long line of cars waiting. Mr. Foo said: “We never able to get car on board next boat. You walk more quick. Other side, you get taxi.”

  That was obviously good advice, so Lanny and Laurel said a brief farewell to the other two. “Some day you come again,” said the elderly Chinese, and the doctor promised to write to Lanny at Newcastle when possible. They hurried to join the waiting crowd, getting close to the front, and when the ferry came in they crowded on board. A heavy fog had drifted over the harbor, something common at this season; foghorns and whistles sounded from near and far, and the little green boat crept ahead with caution.

  It would be a good night for escaping, if a vessel could find its way out to sea, everybody agreed. There were ship’s officers here who meant to try it; they talked freely—the presence of danger broke down the customary reticence. Information was scarce but speculation plentiful. All seemed to agree that Hongkong could withstand a long siege, but the business of ships was at sea and not locked up in any harbor. Among the landsmen, every one had his post; if any one of them had a doubt or a fear he kept it in his heart.

  In a time like this it was natural for the men to assume that their jobs were more important; they rushed off the boat and grabbed all the waiting taxis and rickshaws, and Lanny, whose legs still had to be treated carefully, walked off with his lady and found the street bare. They started along the waterfront, and it was some time before they were able to find one rickshaw and then a second. At long last they got to the pier where the launch of the Oriole was to be, but there was no launch. With sinking hearts they made certain, and then seated themselves to wait. Lanny said: “Perhaps the launch is taking Reverdy to the yacht.” Laurel’s reply was: “Would he have stayed this late with the Governor?” It really didn’t seem plausible.

  They sat gazing out into the fog, so heavy that they could not see a light the distance of a city block. The air resounded with the horns and whistles of ships; evidently there was much movement going on, but those on shore could only guess about it. Laurel asked: “Do you suppose the launch would have trouble in finding this pier?”

  “They couldn’t very well miss the whole waterfront,” was the reply. “When they step ashore they can find out where they are, and would surely send somebody here for us.”

  They debated the idea of going out to search for the yacht at her anchorage. They could hire a sampan or rowboat, but it would be extremely dangerous in this fog, and once out of sight of the dock they would be lost. They would have little chance of finding the yacht, and afterwards would have still less of getting back to the same spot. They had precise instructions; this was the place, and there was no chance of mistaking it; if they went off looking elsewhere, the launch might come and miss them. Reverdy had given them until daylight, and that was a long time off.

  X

  There was nothing to do but sit still. Fortunately it was warm. The busy labor of the Chinese docks went on by night as by day, in war as in peace; a ship was being loaded farther out on the pier, and trucks rolled by them, piled high with boxes and sacks. “Trucks,” in a Chinese port, did not mean motor vehicles; it meant a low platform on wheels, hauled by perhaps a dozen men with straps across their shoulders. You saw them going uphill and down in Hongkong streets. Here on the pier none of these sweating laborers paid the slightest attention to a white “missie” and her man.

  There was only one subject to talk about, and they had already said everything—except one thing which was too painful to be voiced. But as the slow hours dragged by Lanny became fixed in his conviction, and finally he said: “I am afraid the Oriole has departed. We are not going to see her again—at least not in Hongkong.”

  “Oh, Lanny, such a dreadful idea!” exclaimed Laurel. “I can’t bring myself to face it.”

  “How else can you figure it? Lizbeth was with a member of the Governor’s staff at the dance. Is it conceivable that when an alarm was given, a staff member wasn’t the first to be told? They had a government launch and they bolted for it, and of course their first job was to deliver Lizbeth to the yacht—they must have agreed to do that when they borrowed her. And Reverdy was due to be there—he surely wasn’t going to sit chatting with Sir Mark a minute after the alarm came. It wouldn’t take him more than a few minutes to get from Government House to this spot, and he would find the launch here, but no Lanny and no Laurel. What would he do?”

  “I suppose he would fume and fret for a while, but then he would be taken out to the yacht.”

  “He would find Lizbeth on board, or she would arrive soon afterwards; and then what? Let us say that he sends the launch in again—no simple matter in this fog. Would he possibly fail to put a time limit on it?”

  “It would be a dreadful decision to have to make, Lanny.”

  “He would say: ‘I give them one hour. If they aren’t there by that time, it’s their hard luck.’”

  Laurel had to find some excuse for her uncle, even in this imaginary scene. “He would have to think of the other people on board, the crew as well as the passengers.”

  “Do you really think he would think about that, Laurel?”

  This brought her up short, and she hesitated. “I think he would think that he was thinking about it—if that is not too complicated.”

  “I am guessing, of course. He may have been told by the Governor that this fog offers him his one chance to get out, and that every minute he waits he is reducing that chance. My guess is, he has weighed anchor, and the Oriole’s siren is one of those sounds we are hearing, though we can’t recognize it.”

  Every minute that passed brought this theory more to the fore. The only argument to oppose it was that Uncle Reverdy was a Southern gentleman, and wouldn’t desert a lady, especially one who was a member of his own family. Laurel suggested that the fog was so bad and the night traffic so thick he dared not send the launch ashore until daylight. Possibly he himself had gone to the Hongkong Hotel for the night. Possibly he had been told that
the cruiser and the destroyer in the harbor would convoy a fleet of vessels out by daylight.

  “Possibly, but surely not probably!” was Lanny’s reply. “The Japs have an airport at Canton, and if they mean trouble they may go to work at dawn this Sunday morning.”

  Nothing to do but sit and wait! He asked if she didn’t want to take a nap, but she answered that she was too keyed up. He asked whether she was worried about the loss of her manuscript; she relieved his mind on that point by telling him that in Manila she had mailed a copy to her friend in New York. He wanted to know if it hurt her to talk about the idea of her uncle going off and leaving her; to this she replied: “I try to see it from his point of view. If he had to weigh Lizbeth’s safety against mine, naturally he would favor hers.”

  “What I am wondering is how much our recent misconduct would weigh against us in the balance.”

  “Oh, Lanny! Surely not that!”

  “I won’t talk about you, since it might be painful. But consider my standing.” There was a smile in Lanny’s voice—he didn’t mean to give up smiling, even in darkness and danger. “I was his prospective son-in-law, and I rejected the honor, and in a particularly inconsiderate way. I came aboard the yacht under false pretenses, I wrote to my lady friend, telling her that I was coming. Of course Reverdy wouldn’t know whether I suggested your coming, or whether that was your own bright idea. Most probably he suspects it was a conspiracy between us, and that I decided to come with the idea of enjoying the pleasure of your society. Certainly I had been keeping from him and his family the fact that I had known his niece for three years or so, and that she had been a guest in my mother’s home. Don’t you think that in view of all this, there might be a strong tendency to say: ‘All right, they wanted to be together, and now they have it, and don’t have us to bother them’?”