by Anthology
The sun gradually mounts the heavens and tries in vain with vertical rays to arouse the still figure stretched out on the ground beneath. The stars climb to their places in turn and burn through the night in silent majesty, but the quiet form remains motionless under the sheltering trees. But when the grey light of another day begins to dim the cold splendour of the spangled darkness, the prone body moans and stirs and rising to a sitting posture looks with blinking eyes at the brightening sky.
A small stream flows noisily near the stranger's resting place and, at length attracted by the sound, he plunges his bearded face in its ice-edged waters and as he drinks in the cold fluid in long draughts his eyes grow brighter and when his feverish thirst is satisfied, he raises his head and laughs hoarsely.
"I've done it!" he exclaims aloud. "One man against 60,000 — but 60,000 aren't worth one if they haven't ammunition — and it'll be a good many days before they can run a train through that tunnel again. Well, there's one more item in the score settled, but it isn't all paid yet — it isn't all paid! Oh, Lord, how long?"
He stretches his stiffened limbs with a groan, but suddenly arrested by a sharp pain, pulls off his fur coat, revealing a little mass of brown, clotted blood low down on his right side.
"H'm — so they got me after all! Well, it can't be very serious or I couldn't have come this far. Let's see what she looks like."
With firm fingers he cuts the clothing from around the wound and sponging away the dried blood, uncovers a tiny hole in the white flesh. As he examines it, the crimson wells up in slow drops, staining the clear skin redly, but unmoved, he washes the blood away and deftly binds a water-soaked compress over the wound.
"There's no telling how far in that goes," he muses; "but if it's deep enough to matter, I'll find out soon enough. Anyhow, I'll be damned if I die yet — before the whole account is paid."
Strengthened by this reflection, he eats sparingly from a small bag of dried meat and, disregarding the pain of his swollen limbs, strikes out resolutely towards the southeast.
Twelve days later, gaunt with famine and ceaseless travel, he sees before him the Sea of Japan.
Chapter XII
Lieutenant Hooker Meets An Old Acquaintance
LIEUTENANT TOMMY HOOKER sat in his comfortable cabin on board the Ariadne with his feet resting contentedly on their especial corner of the flat-topped desk and his lips nursing a particularly vicious-looking Burma cheroot. The Ariadne, her long gas-bag nearly empty, rocked easily on the low swells and the Lieutenant swayed unconsciously in unison with her movements. Through the open port, the waters of Wei-hai-wei harbour flashed in the sunshine. Near at hand, a little fleet of naval dirigibles, their hulls partially submerged, bobbed gravely, while further off, the slate-coloured forms of four cruisers were outlined sharply in the clear air.
But the Lieutenant was alike indifferent to the work of nature, represented by the bright sunshine and the gleaming bay, and the hand of man, as set forth in the warlike assemblage. His attention was wholly concentrated upon a letter, written in a somewhat irregular feminine hand, which the mail orderly had just left with him.
"Dear Mr. Hooker," the letter began, "it's too bad that you had to start off for the other side of the world just when we were getting to be such good friends, but that's always the way, isn't it? However we'll hope to see you back again before long, loaded with honours and an admiral at the very least — or don't they have such things in the air fleet? I'd be very glad indeed if you'd write to me whenever you can find the time, as you suggest, and I know I'll be awfully thrilled at getting letters from the actual seat of war. Strange as it may appear, you're the only man I know in the International Police, except of course poor Leslie Gardiner. I don't suppose, by the way, you've learned anything more about his death, have you?
"Evelyn has been simply wonderful! It's hard even for me to understand how she can bear her terrible loss so bravely. Sometimes she slips away for a little while and when she comes back I can tell that she's been crying, but she's always cheerful and smiling when she's with the rest of us. It makes me very humble sometimes when I think of her and realise how far I'd have to go before I could hope to equal her, but I am trying to be a little more thoughtful and considerate of other people and a little less happy-go-lucky and intent on my own sweet self. Connie — she's my room-mate — you remember her, don't you? — asked me the other day if there was anything the matter with me, which I considered quite encouraging since it showed that my efforts at reform were noticeable at all events. I've been coming down from college every week-end this term, largely on Eve's account. I think it makes her feel better to have me around, and so many of her friends have married and moved away that —"
An imperative rap on the cabin door cut short further perusal and looking up impatiently, the Lieutenant growled, "Come in!" at the same time hastily stuffing the letter into the bosom of his undress blouse. The irritation clouding his usually cheerful countenance vanished immediately, however, as a pleasant-faced young man in the uniform of an army aviator entered in response to the rather ungracious summons, and jumping to his feet, he eagerly grasped the soldier's outstretched hand and shook it warmly.
"Why, you old mosquito driver," he exclaimed joyously, his features expanding in a broad grin of delight; "what the devil are you doing so far from London town? But sit down — sit down," he added, dragging his visitor towards a capacious arm-chair and thrusting a box of cheroots into his hand. "There! Light up first and then we can talk in comfort."
The army man coloured with pleasure at the friendly warmth of his reception and advancing the end of his weed towards the proffered match, drew in the smoke with great contentment.
"Luxurious beggars, you navy men," he grunted between puffs. "We don't have anything like this when we're in the field — but that's the advantage of taking your quarters along with you when you're on active service."
"But how do you happen to be here?" repeated the Lieutenant, having recourse to his pipe for the sake of variety.
"Jove, I should ask you that question," returned the other; "but since you asked it first — here goes!" He puffed a moment reflectively and then continued. "You see, St. John, being what you would call a 'blarsted Britisher,' didn't have any too much confidence in the sections of the aviation corps with the Russians and Germans, so he imported half-a-dozen of us when he came east to take command, myself being one of the lucky number. Then there was Forsythe — remember him, don't you? — he was on the Cape station that same year, too. Poor chap! He got pretty badly hurt a couple of weeks ago and it's doubtful if he'll recover. And there was Bagworthy, too — you don't know him, though. Well, yesterday St. John started me off with a message for Admiral Barrows — got here this morning — some one happened to let fall the remark that you and the Ariadne were with the fleet — made a few inquiries — and here I am!"
"I thought the Chinese were between St. John and us."
"Oh, I stuck close to the mountains and slipped around their flank. Their air scouts were too fully occupied to bother with a lone despatch runner. Had precious little juice left when I landed, though."
"You fellows use ermic acid for power, don't you?"
"Yes — pretty good stuff. Wonder they never tried it for dirigibles."
"Oh, it doesn't develop energy enough for a tub the size of this one. We use straight electricity with permanent batteries and re-charge as we run. Of course the batteries give out in time, but they last as long as the lift in our gas does and that's all we want. Come to think of it, though, ermic acid has been tried in a dirigible engine." The Lieutenant grinned at the recollection. "It happened when I was still in the training school. There was a young instructor in mechanics there then — can't recall his name, but he was God's own idiot. Well, he got it into his head that ermic acid could be made to run the biggest dirigible engine built if instead of mixing it with air in the usual way, it was energised with pure oxygen."
"By Jove!" exclaimed the army of
ficer.
"Just so. He spent about a year working out formulae to prove his theory, and then one day he hitched about a gallon of the stuff up to the biggest twin propeller compound he had in the mechanical laboratory and turned on his oxygen. He got his energy all right. It was the damndest explosion in the history of the school."
"I remember hearing about it," chuckled the soldier. "The man wasn't hurt a bit either."
"It took all the hair off his head and he was as bald as a coot when they dug him out of the ruins. He survived, though, and was dismissed from the Service. Since then they've quit experimenting with ermic acid until they know more about it than they do now."
"In the meantime," suggested the aviator, leaning forward to knock the ashes from his cheroot, "you haven't explained your presence in the Far East."
"Oh, that's simple enough," returned the Lieutenant. "The whole Federation fleet's out here except a small squadron Barrows left in the Black Sea to amuse the Turks. About all we've had to do is hang around the Sea of Japan and pot Jap cruisers. It's put me up a step though." He tapped the gold diamond on the black braid of his collar. "I'm a division commander now."
"You don't say!" exclaimed the other with interest. "Congratulations, old chap. How did it happen?"
"I was clever enough to stay alive — that's all. You see, when we arrived, the Japanese fleet was waiting for us in Korea Strait and Barrows found it a pretty tough nut to crack. He had the whole Pacific fleet and the air squadron of the Atlantic fleet besides, so he was superior in strength to say nothing of our men being rather better shots. In spite of that, it took us a good eight hours to win that fight and some of our boats were pretty badly shot to pieces. The Denmark — she was one of the old timers — was sunk by a submarine, and besides her, we lost the Austria, London, and Minneapolis — all good ships. By evening the Japs decided they'd had enough and drew off to the north. They'd lost three first-class battleships, five cruisers, a scout cruiser, and some miscellaneous junk and were rather badly crippled. Barrows sent the second cruiser squadron to keep them on the run and went on with the rest of his fleet to bombard the forts here, repairing damages as well as he could on the way. One thing that helped to beat the Japs was that they were far inferior in airships. Apparently only about half their air fleet was ready when the war broke out and what they had, they handled too carefully to hurt us much. They got the Freya, though, and as Bailey had made her his flagship, he was killed along with the rest of the crew and that's how I got my step. The day after the battle, Barrows sailed in here and commenced hammering the forts with his big guns, while we dropped bombs from above and the marines landed and attacked from the rear. The Chinese couldn't stand that for very long, though I will say that they fought like devils incarnate."
"Where was the Chinese fleet all this time?"
"Oh that was another bit of luck for us. You see, the allies didn't expect the war would begin until summer, and the Chinese fleet was still fitting out in Port Arthur. A couple of big battleships and three battle cruisers were with the Japanese, but the rest weren't in any condition for sea so they naturally stayed where they were. After Barrows captured this place, he sent a submarine mine-layer over to Port Arthur and sowed the entrance to the harbour so thick that a fish couldn't swim through without hitting something. Great man, Barrows. He's making a reputation for himself this year if no one else is."
"Hold on there, Tommy. Aren't you pulling my leg?"
"You aren't to blame for the mistakes of your superiors."
"I know that, but 'tisn't etiquette for me to sit tight and let you run down my commander-in-chief."
"But good god, Dick, every one admits that St. John bungled that northern campaign horribly, and was only saved from disaster by the intervention of Providence."
"Providence — and one man! You heard about that, didn't you?"
"I only heard that Michaloff got there just in time to save von Erlen's 2nd division."
"That's only half the story. The rest isn't generally known, but you aren't a talkative chap —"
The Lieutenant grinned understandingly. "I understand — sail ahead."
"It almost seems miraculous," French resumed; "though according to this atheistic age, I suppose there must be an explanation somewhere. About a day before the battle began, an unknown man suddenly appeared at headquarters and offered to blow up a tunnel on the Harbin-Vladivostok line so that the Japanese would be cut off from their ammunition supply. No one knew who he was or where he came from, but he bore all the earmarks of a European and talked English like — like an American."
"Much obliged for the compliment. And he did the job?"
"Well, rather! The way I learned about; it all was that Bagworthy had been killed and Forsythe badly wounded on reconnaissance duty, so St. John detailed me to carry the mysterious stranger around the enemy's lines and set him down near the scene of action. I landed him early on the morning of the day the Japanese came down on us. He must have stayed in hiding all that day and when night came on, slipped out and cut the railway. Anyhow the Japs ran out of ammunition just when they were about to wipe us off the earth, and by the time they got the tunnel open again, we were ready for them with over a hundred thousand men."
"May — I — be — damned!" said Hooker slowly.
"Not half bad, eh?"
"Did the man escape all right?"
"No one knows — or rather I should say that I don't, which practically amounts to the same thing, if you except the Commander-in-Chief himself — and I really believe that in this instance he's no wiser than the rest of us. Of course there must have been some arrangement made about picking him up if he survived — the mysterious stranger, I mean — but I'm quite certain he hasn't returned to our lines yet."
"He didn't volunteer any information about himself while he was with you?"
"No, and I rather felt it wouldn't be quite the decent thing to do to ask questions. Hang it all, Tommy, the man was a gentleman — you could tell that the minute he opened his mouth, even if he did look like a moth-eaten Esquimau; and it really wasn't any of my business. We're all liable to ups and downs in this life."
"Then he struck you as being a fellow that'd had hard luck or something shady in his past and for reasons best known to himself, had decided to drop out of the procession, either temporarily or permanently? — say an International who'd been dismissed the Service for 'conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman'?"
"Must confess it seemed so to me — but then anything's possible in this world."
"Yes, of course. What did your friend look like — physical appearance, I mean? "
"What the devil, Tommy! You haven't any reason for supposing you know the chap, have you?"
"Not in the least — just my natural curiosity, that's all."
"Well," replied Lieutenant French, puzzled but obedient; "he was about my height — blue eyes and face practically hidden by a heavy blond beard. You must remember I only saw him in half light and hadn't an opportunity for a really good look at him then."
"Did he seem to know army ways?"
"Oh, I can't really say as to that. I started to explain the way to explode a kellinite blasting cartridge, but he said he'd used the stuff before — but then any civil engineer could say as much."
"I see. Much obliged to you."
Hooker smoked in silence for an interval, apparently buried in deep thought, while Lieutenant French idly examined the disorderly display on the naval officer's desk to pass the time. Presently his attention was attracted by an artistically engraved gold frame inclosing a snapshot of a pretty young girl, clad in a rough, white coat and short, dark skirt, with a pair of skates slung from her gracefully-curved arm.
"Your sister?" he asked by way of re-opening the conversation.
"No — just a friend of mine," replied Hooker, reddening slightly under his tan. "College girl I met last Christmas at a house party."
"Oh, I beg your pardon."
"No occasion for it. T
hough I can't stand womenfolk as a rule, I will say that she's a pretty fine little girl, and that's more than I've ever confessed to any one else."
French appeared to understand, for he suddenly held out his hand to his friend. The Lieutenant took it with considerable embarrassment and turned with an air of relief as a sharp rap came on the cabin door. At his short summons to enter, the door opened admitting a naval cadet, who advanced four paces into the room and saluted stiffly.
"Admiral Barrows' compliments, and will Mr. Hooker please report to him at once."
"Present my compliments to Admiral Barrows and say that I'll be there immediately. Will you come along, French, or would you rather wait here? "
"I think I'd better accompany you and find out if your chief has his reply to St. John's despatch ready for me to take back yet."
"Just as well. Barrows is as likely as not to keep me all day."
They quickly reached the narrow steel deck and swung down the Ariadne's low freeboard into the waiting launch. Hooker rapidly spun the wheel and jerked the starting-switch as a blue-clad sailor jumped in forward and the swift little craft headed shoreward, her sharp prow cutting the water cleanly as she slipped over the long swells.
Once ashore, the friends parted with brief but none the less sincere expressions of mutual affection and esteem, and Lieutenant Hooker took his way to headquarters, where he was at once ushered into the presence of the doughty admiral himself. The lean Yankee naval chief was studying a chart of the northern coastline, but he looked up quickly as Hooker entered and perfunctorily saluted.
