Upon thinking it over later, I realized that he had said nothing definite about himself.
We turned in, at length, and as we undressed I observed two things. O’Grady wore a pistol slung in a neat armpit holster; and, tightly about his neck, a little pouch. To this latter I paid slight heed at the moment, thinking naturally that he was wearing a scapulary.
I was asleep in no time, taking the upper bunk. When I awakened, it was one o’clock; on the wall hung my illuminated watch pointing the hour. I wondered what had wakened me, then was aware of a subdued movement in the cabin. As I turned, the berth-springs squeaked abominably. The cabin door slammed; when I switched on the light, I was alone, save for the snoring figure of O’Grady.
Slipping into trousers and shoes, I doused the light and opened the door. As I did so, a vibrant, excited voice sang out on deck, followed almost instantly by a shot from some little distance, to judge by the sound. I caught my coat from the hook near the door, dragged out my pistol, and started for the deck. I heard O’Grady hit the floor with both feet as I had departed, but paused not for him.
The vibration of the boat, which suddenly increased, told me that full speed was being made.
I crawled out on deck, just in time to come foul of several struggling men. One of them broke free, went over the rail, and struck with a splash. His head came up into the moonlight. Rising, I caught sight of Yu standing at the rail, pistol in hand, and called to him; he shot while I was calling, and to the report, the swimming man vanished.
Glancing around, I saw that the steward and crew were in sight. Yu turned to me and smiled thinly under his stubble of beard.
“A Jap,” he said briefly. “Stowaway,”
“Then he was the fellow in the cabin! I heard him and woke up—”
“Boarders away!” sang out the voice of O’Grady, behind me. “What’s up?”
For answer, Yu lifted his arm and pointed. Then I saw what until now I had overlooked in the swiftness of things.
We were in midstream, shooting rapidly through the water, which lay like a wide silvern flood in the light of the high moon. Two hundred yards to our right, heading as though to meet us at a convergent angle, was another craft—a gasoline launch, to judge from the sound of her exhaust. From either bow was thrown up and back a curving wave of water, which indicated her speed, half hiding her from view.
While we stared, a flash leaped out amidships of her, and I caught the whine of a bullet close overhead. O’Grady ducked, then laughed.
“More o’ your pleasant friends, Breck? Faith, we’re not goin’ to be lonely, at all events. Who is she, or what?”
I repeated the question to Yu. He snapped an order at the steward, who vanished, then turned to me with a warning gesture.
“A police boat, bribed by Schneider to halt us, and she has the speed of us. Fortunately, I know these boats very well; I think I can stop her. Will you gentlemen kindly lie down? I believe they will shoot again.”
At another order from him, the speed of the launch slowed a bit, and Yu stretched out on the afterdeck. The steward appeared and put a rifle into his hand. A moment later, he fired. To the crack, O’Grady caught my arm excitedly as we crouched.
“Breck, ’pon my word, the beggar’s usin’ explosive bullets! If he hits her petrol tank, what price we’re hung for piracy?”
“You never heard of a newspaper man getting hung for anything,” I said.
“Oh!” and he chuckled at that, “But I’m no journalist, me lad; I’m an Irishman. And ye never heard of an Irishman bein’ drowned that was born to be hung! But I’m with ye, hanging or no hanging. Wish that boy o’ yours ’ud give me a try with that rifle!”
Indeed, Yu had taken two shots, seemingly without result. I left O’Grady, and crawled aft behind Yu, and perceived that he was aiming at the very bow of the other craft. He no doubt knew that her gasoline tank was there.
Meantime, bullets were driving about us, and now there came a tremendous bang, and a one-pounder shell screeched overhead. If that police craft had carried a machine gun instead of one designed to sink pirates, we could not have lasted. She was converging every moment, and now was not a hundred yards distant.
Then Yu fired for the third time.
I saw him lay down the rifle and come up, squatting. Then a red sheet of flame leaped from the water, and we reeled under the blast of the concussion. When the following blackness passed, I saw Yu still squatting there, and we were still heading upstream. I leaped up.
“Head back and pick ’em up!” I shouted to the helmsman in the stern.
He made no motion to obey. O’Grady joined me, with a shout, and then we found Yu suddenly erect before us, hand outstretched.
“Master,” he said, “men who take bribes deserve what happens. Besides, you are in my charge. Until you are set ashore, my orders are obeyed, not yours. Then I serve you without protest, with perfect obedience! But meantime, leave things to me.”
To protests, oaths, orders, he was absolutely impervious; so were his men. Except by actual force, we could do nothing. When we realized this, we were a mile distant from the scene of the fight, and the police boat must have gone down like a shot. At length O’Grady laughed and turned away.
“Never mind, Breck, when in Rome, do as the Romans do! Let the boy run the show; faith, he’s made a good job of it so far! I say, Yu, when are we to be landed?”
“At this time tomorrow night, sir,” returned Yu, “you will be ashore and on your way up-country. As you will travel all night, I respectfully suggest that you sleep as much as possible all day.”
“Do you expect any more such trouble as we’ve just had?” I asked.
“Yes, master.” Yu nodded thoughtfully. “We change crews at ten in the morning, when we reach a place this side of Nanfu. We shall have trouble getting past that town, but the new crew will probably bring some warning.”
I stared at him in stark amazement. “What system do you use? Wireless?” This was probably a shrewd guess, but Yu merely looked blank and refused to explain. As a matter of fact, I believe that Kohler did have a private wireless system of his own that covered a large portion of China.
O’Grady and I went back to sleep. What the Irishman thought about all this, was uncertain; yet he certainly enjoyed himself hugely. Nor did I care particularly what he thought. It was enough that he was a good comrade, and one to depend upon, as he had proven there at the Fuchow landing-stairs. It seemed to me that the mystery surrounding this adventure spiced it for him, and because of this he asked no questions.
Something went wrong with the engines, I believe, and we were an hour late at Nanfu. About two miles this side of the town, we slipped in to the shore, entered what appeared to be a canal mouth, and a moment later were floating in a hidden anchorage surrounded by trees. Here lay a wharf, a godown from which men were bringing fuel, a house sitting back from the water, long boathouses, and a small dry-dock; all of them quite invisible from the river. As we slid up to the landing, Yu approached the astonished pair of us.
“We shall be here twenty minutes, master,” he told me. “If you care to visit the guesthouse yonder, you will find luncheon ready. If not, you may care to stroll along the shore.”
“Is this a private estate?” I asked him, careful not to mention Kohler’s name before O’Grady. He grinned at that.
“Yes, master.”
O’Grady asked no questions, but he looked unwontedly thoughtful as we docked.
Now, how it was managed I don’t know, for I am certain there was no wireless aboard the launch. Perhaps it was prevision on the part of Kohler. At all events, we had no sooner lined up than a coolie presented himself at the wharf with an envelope, which he handed to me. I opened it with a word of apology to O’Grady, and found a curt note addressed to me and signed by Kohler. It read:
Yu is in charge until you leave the launch. Then everything is in your hands. Do not interfere with him or with what he does. Luck to you!
I tore up the
message and went up to the guesthouse with O’Grady. There we found deft servants, an excellent luncheon, and some English magazines that were given us to take along.
Much as I knew of Kohler, this place was a revelation to me. The very significance of such a place was astounding. Certainly, the Japs knew nothing of it, although their strong influence permeated all Fukien province. They might have been watching the launch and Yu, might even have got their spy aboard her, and doubtless Kohler himself was surrounded by spies; but here they could not reach. Indeed, O’Grady and I saw several armed men at various points, and from the veranda of the bungalow I rather fancied that I discerned a line of barbed-wire forking out amid the trees, but was not certain.
When Yu summoned us to the launch, aboard which was a new and augmented crew of five men, he squatted down before us and spoke frankly, addressing me but speaking to O’Grady as well.
“Master, we shall have trouble passing Nanfu. Schneider is three hours ahead of us. Fifteen miles the other side of Nanfu, he will fall into a trap that I have set for him, but he has also set snares for us. The influence of Dubonnet & Cie. is very strong here. I suggest that you gentlemen separate and take different boats here.”
At this, O’Grady started slightly, and eyed Yu. Despite the message I had received, I shook my head.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Yu. Let’s go ahead.”
“Very well, master.” Yu rose. “We will not go aboard the same launch, but another, to which your things have been transferred.”
There was no getting around this fellow. He led us to the landing slip, toward which another craft was being fetched from a boathouse. Meantime, our first launch got under way. I noticed that beneath the after awning two of the crew were sitting; they wore whites and helmets, and might easily pass at a distance for me and O’Grady.
“Clever head,” murmured the Irishman. “Decoy, eh? It’s a smart lad he is, that chap Yu!”
We got aboard the second launch, which was a replica of the first in every respect, and in five minutes were heading out into the river. Then, at Yu’s suggestion, O’Grady and I went below. Before we went, however, we saw the first launch, well ahead of us, go toward the other side of the river, while upon her converged several craft that had been lying in wait, apparently.
Of Nanfu or what happened to the other launch, we saw nothing; the small cabin ports gave us no view at all, being obscured by waves most of the time.
When Yu at length summoned us above, the river was empty save for a couple of salt junks, and we settled down beneath the after-awning with a cold drink apiece. Before that drink had disappeared, we rounded a sweeping curve of the river and came into sight of our old friend Schneider.
A big launch was laid up, well heeled over, too, in some bad white-water to the left. We headed over that way and ran to within a hundred feet of her, the engines slowing down. Schneider, who had been waving for help, recognized us and desisted; he stood staring, in furious dismay and consternation.
“Nice day, old chap!” shouted O’Grady, lifting his glass. “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye!”
Yu, standing beside us, chuckled. Schneider shook his fist and shouted something that was lost on the wind. Later, I was to regret not having listened to his words.
“Sorry we can’t stop,” I shouted, for we were upwind. “Take your time, Schneider! No hurry at all, so far as you’re concerned.”
He shouted something else that was lost, although O’Grady’s name reached us, and shook his fist again. Then we were past and churning upriver once more, and I judged that we had left all enemies behind us.
Late that afternoon we landed, found mules and a complete camping-equipment waiting for us, and started into the mountains.
IV
When darkness fell that night, with the promise of the full moon ahead, we were toiling along a narrow and winding mountain road, which was no more than a trail. I thought in my folly that all our troubles were past, little reckoning what country we were in, and little knowing what this thirty miles of mountain road was to bring.
I was now definitely in command. Our six mafus had come from farther up the river, with their mules, to meet us, and knew nothing about our business; they were faithful men, however, armed with rifles. Two of them knew the way to Kiuling and served as guides. Yu was of course with us, also the steward from the launch, who acted as cook. There was a small tent for O’Grady and me, but little other baggage.
We expected to reach Kiuling sometime the following night, depending of course on the moon to light our way. Also, the roads would be deserted after dark, since tigers were plentiful in the district. Hearing this, O’Grady joyfully demanded a rifle, which was provided, and took the lead with one of the guides.
The trail was nothing short of vile, and I marveled that French should have come to such a place as Kiuling. Nowhere was there any road that a horse could have managed; we continually wound along steep, rocky hillsides, circling valleys which were pits of blackness in the moonlight, crossing swaying bamboo suspension bridges one at a time. The path wound about and meandered insanely, for there were no towns between us and Kiuling; but a straight trail would of course be open to devils, and so we curved.
A little after midnight, clouds which had gradually swept up the sky overspread the moon. Yu, just behind me, sniffed the air uneasily.
“Rain,” he commented. I shrugged and dismissed the prophecy.
The mafus wanted to stop with the darkness, but I ordered them to keep going for three hours, then halt for hot tea and food. We went on, O’Grady still in the lead, and after a bit, at a wide spot, I came up and fell in beside him. Then the trail narrowed and we had to go single file again.
It was no easy matter riding along that path in the darkness. We had to trust solely to the mules and the guide. Now we would be skirting some narrow ledge above a precipice, and again the trail would zigzag up a hillside of loose shale and talus. Yet, by a miracle, we kept forging ahead.
It was two o’clock—I had just glanced at my watch. We were scrambling up one of those cursed slopes, with a long treeless fall of rock below us, when my mule lost his footing. His hind legs went over the edge, and he scrambled there for a moment, snorting wildly. I had absolutely no warning, could not get out of the saddle; I could feel the poor beast slipping backward, his fore hooves hanging to the rock.
Then O’Grady’s voice was in my ear. “Steady does it, me lad. Now, then, up with ye!”
He was out of his saddle, standing there before me, hauling the mule back by sheer strength. An instant later, with a laugh, he was gone to his own beast once more, leaving me more shaken than I cared to confess.
This was the second time O’Grady had saved my life.
It was bitter cold that night. At three o’clock, coming to a fairly wide stretch of road between trees, I ordered a halt until dawn. The weather looked more like snow than rain to me, but so far there was no sign of either, save the heavy clouds.
Within ten minutes we had roaring fires going, for the uneasiness of the mules showed that tiger were nearby; besides, if we had beaten our opponents this far, we would certainly beat them into Kittling, and there was no object in freezing to death from too much precaution.
As we were about to open the packs, O’Grady sauntered up to the fire with a package.
“Here’s some first-chop tea for all hands,” he said, “as a contribution. Bought it in Fuchow; remember, Breck?”
I nodded, smiling at thought of how we had seen the sights that afternoon. I recalled that the Irishman had insisted on buying some extra fine tea, which he had never had an opportunity to sample.
The men welcomed his gift eagerly, for it was a package of the finest and most expensive tea produced. Yu, at the moment, was getting our tent erected; leaving the cook and men at the fire, we stepped over to the tent and with Yu’s help got our things opened up and blankets out.
O’Grady got an electric torch out of his kit, stepped outside, and flash
ed the light at the trees several times. I thought nothing of it, except to caution him against using up his battery. He came back to me, laughing to himself, and I wondered why he seemed so amused. I was too busy shaving to ask any questions, however, and he joined me over the pot of hot water.
By the time we had shaved and dismissed Yu, some food and a couple of bowls of hot tea were waiting for us. The tent was none too large a dining room, but afforded us a shelter from the bitter wind that was coming up and bringing rain with it. Our men, already eating, were grouped about the fire twenty paces distant.
“I wouldn’t touch that tea just yet,” said O’Grady, giving me a singular look.
“Why not?”
“Wait and see. Here, have a bit o’ this marmalade. It’s real Dundee, me lad! Upon my word, I believe it’ll be raining in another half hour, what?”
“The rain is beginning now, I think. Pleasant trip tomorrow.”
Indeed, a few drops of rain spattered on the tent. A moment later I reached out for the tea-bowl, then recollected O’Grady’s singular prohibition.
“Say’ what’s the idea about the tea? Too hot?”
A thin smile curved O’Grady’s lips. He was a handsome beggar, in his own way; yet there was a peculiar quality in his eye, as he looked at me, that I could not comprehend. He half turned on his stool, raised a hand toward me in restraint, and took out his pistol. He was now gazing out at the campfire.
“What is it?” I queried. “Tiger?”
He gave me a quizzical glance.
“Faith, a dev’lish tiger and no mistake, me lad! Hold on a minute now, will ye? And be handin’ me that electric torch, like a good chap.”
Mystified by his manner and actions, I handed him the torch. He flashed it toward the tent opening, then thrust his hand outside and flashed it again. Then, putting the torch into his coat pocket, he leaned forward and beckoned me to join him.
Crowding around the makeshift table, I crouched beside him and peered out. For a moment I could see nothing unusual; then I perceived that our muleteers, grouped about the fire, were motionless. I could not sense what was wrong until, from the edge of the firelight, half a dozen figures came running in from all sides. Then it burst upon me—every last one of our men was drugged! Not a man stirred.
The H. Bedford-Jones Pulp Fiction Megapack Page 11
