*CHAPTER IV*
*Six to One*
A Newspaper Paragraph--Scenes by the Way--Mistaken Identity--A WarmCorner--A Modern Miracle--Yamaguchi
The train rattled down to Tokio, cutting at intervals through themagnificent avenue of cryptomerias, at such a headlong pace that Bobfeared every moment lest it should jump the rails and end his careerbefore it had begun. But he reached Tokio whole in limb, and, takingleave of Kobo San at the station, hurried to his hotel. After making hispreparations, he found that there was an hour or two to spare before thetrain left for the west, and went into the reading-room to look at thepapers, which he had not seen during his absence. There he encountereda dejected group, comprising his ship-board acquaintances Mr. Morton,Herr Schwab, and Monsieur Desjardins, together with a few otherEuropeans and a couple of Americans, all evidently correspondents.
"Hullo!" shouted Morton. "Thought you were at Hong-Kong by now. I wishI were!"
Morton's loud voice, and the atmosphere of the hotel, struck Bob with acurious sense of incongruity after the quiet of his recent sojourn atNikko.
"What! You don't like Japan?" he said with a smile.
"Humph!" grunted Morton. "Precious little of Japan we've seen, boxed uphere, asking questions, getting no answers. Haven't sent the _Post_ adecent stick of copy since I came. Everything leaks out in Londonbefore we get it here. That wretched legation in Knightsbridge don'tgive us a chance. We might as well be in Kamschatka. But what have youbeen doing?"
"I've been to Nikko!"
"What! Finding ranges?"
"Yes," said Bob; "mountain ranges."
"You say ranges," broke in Herr Schwab instantly. "I hafe new batentkitchen range, save 95 per cent fuel. I can quote you--"
He stopped in stolid wonder at a general chuckle from the group.Morton, evidently scenting information, followed up his clue.
"I suppose you're out of work like the rest of us. Jap motto: 'Noforeigners need apply'. They've had shoals of applications."
Although Bob had not been definitely warned to keep his business secret,he felt that he was not entitled to make any premature disclosure.
"Well, anyhow it's a pleasant enough way of spending a holiday," hesaid. "There's plenty to be seen."
"My word! yes," said Desjardins. "I am in enchantment. De Japanese, deyare adorable. Deir politesse, it is exquisite; dey tell you everyting,but vis a charm--everyting, except vat you vant to know."
"You are right," said Mr. Jacob T. Vanzant, war commissioner of the _NewYork Eagle_. "I flattered myself I could raise a column of red-hot newsout of a dumb waiter, but it would be easier to make the Egyptian sphinxtalk than to draw one of these smiling, affable young slips at theforeign office. But it's war, gentlemen; there isn't a doubt aboutthat. Listen to this."
He took up a fortnight-old copy of the _San Francisco Argonaut_ lying athis elbow.
"Our fellow-citizens will learn with regret that since the fifteenthcurrent the location of Mrs. Isidore G. Pottle and her niece has beeninvolved in obscurity. When our esteemed contributor's usual letterfailed to reach our offices, we cabled enquiries to the Russiancommandant-general in Manchuria, and received in response the followingcommunication: 'Mesdames priees de faire retour via Port Arthur;disparues il y a deux jours'. We have every hope that in spite of theunsettled state of Manchuria Mrs. Isidore G. Pottle's magnificent energyand determination, which have been strikingly evinced in the palpitatingseries of letters that have appeared in the _Argonaut_, will ultimatelyensure her safe return to her native city."
"But I do not onderstand," said Herr Schwab, "vherefore ze egsentricityof your Mrs. Bottle shall be a cause of var."
Mr. Vanzant smiled, and proceeded to explain that if the Russianauthorities had not had serious grounds for believing that hostilitieswere impending, they would have had no occasion to interrupt Mrs.Pottle's projected journey across Korea to Seoul, and thus curtail theprogramme she had set herself to perform when she left San Francisco onher trip round the world.
"Very ingenious," remarked Morton; "but if that's all you've got to goon, seems to me you're raising a skyscraper on a very slightfoundation."
"I presume, sir," retorted the American, "you have not met Mrs. IsidoreG. Pottle."
Desjardins immediately wanted to know all about the adventurous lady,and an animated conversation ensued, in which Bob took no part.Remembering the telegram screwed up in his pocket, he had felt a certainconstraint while Mr. Vanzant had been giving his reasons. Consciousthat he was not a diplomatist, and fearing lest in an unguarded momenthe should let drop information the mere hint of which would betelegraphed to every part of the world, he took an early opportunity ofslipping away.
"Zey are civilized? Ach! zey buy nozink. Ruskin, zey vill not readhim; batent mangle, zey vill not look at it. Vy, ven I vas in ze CongoState viz Mr. Burnaby, ze blacks zey buy eferyzink: pins, lawn-mower,lexicon, hair-oil--" These were the last words Bob heard as he left theroom, and the last he was destined to hear from Herr Schwab for aconsiderable time to come.
At ten o'clock that night he quietly left the hotel, and was drawn in arickshaw, with his slender kit, to the Shimbashi railway-station, _enroute_ for Sasebo. He had a long journey before him, but he had no ideaof how long it was actually to be. Many times during that night and thenext day his train was shunted into sidings, to allow the passing oftrains bearing troops to the western ports. During the hours ofdarkness he slept soundly, but with the morning light he awoke to thefact that things were happening. At the stations, where refreshments inneat little boxes were brought to the passengers, he saw crowds,sometimes melting away, sometimes gathering, with looks of intenteagerness on their faces. At one station, which was thronged, he saw theactual departure of a train overflowing with the trim little Japanesesoldiers. He was struck by the air of joyous confidence that markedtheir bearing, and the look of pride with which the women and childrenon the platforms bade them farewell. There was none of the frenziedenthusiasm and the bitter grief which he had noticed in the crowds thatsped the British soldiers on their way to South Africa five yearsbefore; there was no kissing or hand-shaking, no hanging on the necks ofthe departing warriors, no impeding of their movements as theyentrained, no tearful last words. A few shouts of "Banzai! Banzai!" asthe train moved off, and then the throng dispersed in perfect order anddecorum, to hide their sorrow, perhaps, in the seclusion of their ownhomes. Bob was much impressed by the scene; it was like the departureof a band of Crusaders in the great days of old.
He was glad enough when, after a journey of some thirty hours, he atlength reached Sasebo, the naval station where he understood theJapanese fleet was lying. Leaving his portmanteau at therailway-station, he enquired of the station-master the way to theharbour, and was courteously informed by him, in the few English phraseshe had at command, that the distance was not great. Always desirous ofseeing as much of the people as his opportunities allowed, Bob decidedto make his way to the harbour on foot, and declined the offers of therickshaw coolies who stood waiting to be hired in the station-yard. Aregiment from Southern Kiushiu had recently detrained, and the crowdthat had assembled to greet them was dispersing, as Bob passed out, withthe same general orderliness that he had remarked at the stations on theline. But in this case a few among the patriots had been indulgingsomewhat too freely in sake, and once or twice Bob moved aside to give awide berth to knots of roysterers who seemed inclined to claim the wholeroadway. As he passed a group of half a dozen young men whom he took tobe students, he heard the word "Orosha", which he remembered as theJapanese equivalent for "Russia". This was followed by a string ofremarks which by their tone were clearly of no complimentary character,but which were as clearly aimed at him. In anticipation of his long,cold journey, Bob had put on his long frieze ulster that covered himfrom his heels to his ears, and a deer-stalker cap that was verycomfortable if not very elegant. His tall figure thus costumed, hisfair hai
r and blue eyes, were sufficient to give him the appearance of aRussian to half-drunken patriots, who in the circumstances of the timewere not likely to be well-disposed towards their national enemies.
Bob did not look round; he smiled a little at the thought of being takenfor a Muscovite. "Never knew I was a handsome fellow before," hethought. Walking more quickly and more directly than the noisystudents, he expected to pass out of their sight in the course of a fewminutes. But he was somewhat disconcerted to find that the partyquickened their steps behind him; the abuse became louder and morecontinuous; and even the quiet, orderly portion of the crowd, nowthinning in the dusk, began, as he could see, to regard him with somesuspicion. He was aware that the less educated Japanese do not drawfine distinctions in the matter of foreigners, and remembering what hehad learnt in Nikko from Kobo, and still more from his servant Taru, ofthe outrages which Europeans had suffered at the hands of infuriatedJapanese not many years before, he felt some apprehension of what theend of the business might be. It was hopeless to attempt to conciliatethe youths by announcing his British citizenship, for his whole stock ofJapanese words consisted of the names of a few common things, and themere attempt to address them might increase their irritation. Thinkingto shake them off, he turned suddenly down a narrow side street,leading, as he supposed, in the direction of the harbour. The houses atthe sides were little one-story affairs built of wood; their fronts,removed all day, had been replaced for the night; no lanterns hung atthe entrances; the one street-lamp was not lit; and the wholethoroughfare was deserted, except for two Chinamen who were proceedingin the same direction as Bob, about two hundred yards ahead.
He had scarcely turned the corner when he felt that he had made anunwise move, a feeling confirmed in a few moments, for the group ofstudents, gaining courage from the fact that the eyes of the more sobersection of the crowd were no longer upon them, followed him into thenarrow street with louder and more threatening cries. Bob was annoyed;he had nothing to gain by a street row; but while he instinctivelyquickened his pace he took a tight grip upon a knobbed stick ofcherry-wood presented to him by Kobo at Nikko, preparing to turninstantly on his pursuers if they attempted to close in upon him. Hebegan to recognize that sooner or later there would be a rush, andthough he was pretty sure that by incontinently taking to his heels hecould distance the little fellows with ease, and suspected that thiswould probably be the wisest course, he could not bring himself to runaway from a mob of students whom he overtopped head and shoulders,especially as his flight must be witnessed by two Chinamen.
Within a minute his anticipations were fulfilled. There was a yell anda sudden rush behind him. Quick as thought he stepped sideways into anangle between the latticed entrance to a shop and a low palisade thatstood out a couple of feet from the wall, enclosing some architecturalornament, and faced the angry students. There were six of them, allarmed with sticks, and they made at the solitary foreigner in a body.Fortunately for Bob, they could not reach him from behind; his left waspartially protected by the railing; and as they surged forward theyimpeded one another's movements. Had it not been so, Bob's experiencesin the Far East would have been closed there and then, for the Japaneseare the finest fencers in the world, and singlestick-play is with them afavourite pastime.
Raising his stick to defend his head, Bob received upon it thesimultaneous strokes of the three foremost of his opponents, whichalmost beat down his guard. But he had a wrist of iron; he had notserved an apprenticeship in an engineering shop for nothing; and heinstantly retaliated with two rapid sledge-hammer blows with his leftfist, which felled two of the Japanese to the ground. The rest were forthe moment somewhat staggered; they knew single-stick, but were notprepared for this peculiarly British variation. With characteristicpluck, however, they recovered themselves almost before their comradeshad reached the ground, and undeterred by the fate of their vanguard,the others, going to work a little more cautiously, closed in towardsthe tall, erect figure of the foreigner. Keeping out of arm's reach,they tried to rain their blows on Bob's head. Their sticks rattled uponhis; one sturdy little Japanese got in a heavy blow on his left wristthat put one arm out of action, while another at the same moment dodgedin under his guard and seized him by the throat. With a great musculareffort Bob, dropping his stick, now useless to him, shortened his armand struck his assailant behind the ear, at the same time raising hiswounded arm to protect his head and making a dash forward to breakthrough the ring. The grip upon his throat relaxed; the Japanese,falling under Bob's weight, was borne to the ground, but as he fell heseized Bob by the foot, and with a violent jerk tripped him up. As hedropped he received two or three blows on the back and shoulders; thenhe was overwhelmed by the weight of the three remaining Japanese, allstriving to get at him at the same time. He felt that he was in adesperately tight place; afterwards he remembered that his sensationsstrangely resembled those he had experienced at a critical moment in acertain memorable soccer match between his club and an eleven ofClydebank riveters.
But before the assailants could distinguish between Bob's form and thatof the half-senseless Japanese entangled with him, an unlooked-fordiversion occurred. There was the soft pad of felt soles, inaudible toBob and his enemies; two or three resounding thwacks on the craniums ofthe panting Japanese, and in a twinkling Bob was on his feet,breathless, hatless, speechless, returning as best he could thecourteous salutations of two grave, silent Chinamen. Four Japanese werelimping down the street, two others still lay senseless on the ground.The Chinamen were the same two figures Bob had seen immediately in frontof him as he entered the thoroughfare, which was still deserted, all theinhabitants having gone down to the harbour, save one old ship'scarpenter who had tottered to his shop-front, attracted by the sound ofthe scuffle.
"It is very good of you," said Bob, gasping. "I'm much obliged to you,I'm sure."
The younger of the two Chinamen, apparently a merchant, shook his headand smiled deprecatingly, from which Bob gathered that he did notunderstand English. The other, evidently a servant, preserved animpassivity of countenance such as only a Chinaman can command. Bob wasat a loss how to express his gratitude; but the dignified merchant,waving his hand to signify that the affair was a mere nothing, bowedceremoniously and continued on his way.
Bob picked up his hat and stick, dusted his coat with his hand, and felthis wrist to make sure that no bones were broken. Then, thinking itwise to return to the principal street and proceed to the harbour asdirected by the station-master, he retraced his steps.
"I wonder where I have seen those two Chinamen before," he said tohimself as he walked on. "Was it at Hong-Kong, or Shanghai?"
Down the long street, strangely quiet. Bob wondered what had become ofall the people. The secret was ere long disclosed. He came to thequays. There were people everywhere; men, women, children, soldiers,sailors, crowded together in picturesque disorder. Out on the waters ofthe harbour there was a throng of shipping scarcely less dense. Nearerthe shore, sampans, junks, transport vessels of all descriptions, thesmaller craft hurrying this way and that, loaded with goods, loaded withmen. Farther out, many twinkling lights, making curious fairy-likepatterns in the deepening gloom. There Bob got his first vague glimpseof the fleet.
He looked, and wondered, and thought. Those silent forms, lying sopeacefully amid the reflections of their lights--how soon would theyfulfil their destiny as deadly instruments of destruction? What anamazing object-lesson in the history of nations! Forty years before,Japan, socially and politically, was as remote from western civilizationas the peoples of Europe in the middle ages. Now she possessed, and, asshe had proved in the China war, could make the fullest use of, the mostcomplex engines evolved by western science. Bob recalled the tales toldhim by Kobo of Japan during his own childhood, and was conscious of atransformation more marvellous than the most fantastic of fairy lore.The ships were amazing enough, but what of the men? Every vessel boreits complement of officers and engineers trained to the highest poin
t ofefficiency, with perfect command of the myriad delicate details of thesemarvels of mechanical invention. They were the sons of men who hadswaggered about the streets of Yedo in strange attire with their doubleswords, the terror of the despised peaceful folk, or, clad in mediaevalarmour, had swelled the trains of great daimios who came in from theirdistant fiefs to pay an enforced annual visit to the capital. Thecrews! they sprang from peasants, artisans, and menials who forgenerations had been forbidden to wear arms, and were supposed fit forlittle else than to be hewers of wood and drawers of water for theirproud lords and lordlings. Yet, as the China war had proved, now thatthe awakening had taken place, this despised and unconsidered class hadshown a daring, a martial spirit, a capacity for heroism, no whitinferior to that of their officers, the descendants of daimios andsamurai whose very life was war.
The blare of a bugle woke Bob from his reverie. From the crowd at theend of the quay rose a shout of "Banzai!" which was taken up by thethrong all around, and swelled by the echo from the walls of thearsenal. The last boatload of soldiers had just left shore for one ofthe transports. It was time for Bob to go on board. Soon he was beingpunted along in a sampan, which threaded its way slowly among lighters,tugs, and innumerable small craft, clear of which it came at length tothe war-ships. The _Mikasa_ was easily singled out; there was a shortparley with the officer of the watch, and Bob, mounting the side, wasere long conducted to the presence of the admiral in whom Japan'shighest hopes were centred.
Keen eyes, a grizzled pointed beard, a quiet self-possessed manner, alow pleasant voice--it was these that gave Bob his first impressions ofAdmiral Togo as, enveloped in his thick greatcoat, he greeted the youngEnglishman. Many years had passed since he trod the deck of the_Worcester_ as a cadet: years in which he had seen the building-up ofthe great navy that now lay obedient to his single word. He spokeexcellent English, and in a few sentences acquainted Bob with thesituation that had called for his services. The fleet was about tosail; war might break out at any moment; he needed someone at hand incase the range-finders, on which so much would depend, should requirechecking or adjusting.
"You are in an exceptional position, Mr. Fawcett," he said. "We are notenlisting the services of foreigners; but the mechanism of therange-finder being of a special character, it was thought well to haveon the spot some one from its original makers. I should point out toyou that your services may be required on any vessel of the fleet at amoment's notice, and your duties may lead you into very grave peril. Weare at the beginning of new experiences in naval warfare; there may beterrible things in store for us. It is right to warn you, so that youmay not go blindfold into danger. It is for you to say whether youaccept the position."
"Thank you, sir," replied Bob. "I've been sent out to do a certainwork, and I can only take things as they come. I'm delighted to havethe chance of seeing service on your magnificent vessel."
Bob's manifest eagerness provoked a faint smile from the admiral.
"Very well, then, I'll send for your baggage and hand you over toSub-lieutenant Yamaguchi; he has not long left Glasgow and knows Englishwell, so that he will no doubt prove an acceptable mess-mate. He willsee that you get a berth, and look after you generally."
In a few moments Bob was being convoyed by the sub-lieutenant, a littlefellow of five feet two, to the wardroom, where he was introduced toseveral other officers. Some of these had more than a smattering ofEnglish, and their courtesy and air of good fellowship would have made amore self-conscious stranger than Bob Fawcett feel at home. He spent adelightful evening in their company, and went to his bunk with vagueexpectations of things to happen next day.
Kobo: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War Page 5
