*CHAPTER XXIV*
*In the Enemy's Gates*
A Long Rope--A Trial Trip--A Miss--As a Thief in the Night--Chang-WoTakes His Ease--Tantalus
The next day passed so slowly that it seemed as though it would neverend. Bob was full of all kinds of apprehension as to what had befallenAh-Sam and the chief. He wished he had accompanied them; then saw howunwise it would have been so to do; his presence would only have been asource of danger, and, except in an actual fight, he could be of no use.He ate sparingly of the remaining food; till the men returned he couldnot be sure of their being able to procure a fresh supply. If theyproved unsuccessful, all three would be on short commons indeed.
Dusk fell. There had been time for them to go and return. Bob waitedanxiously. Hour after hour passed; the moon rose, and climbed higherand higher into the sky. Where were the men? He was anxious abouttheir fate; but he fretted also because, even if they returned insafety, it was growing too late to do anything that night. He walked upand down like a sentry, stopping at the end of his beat to listen, howoften he did not count. At last, when he judged it must be nearingmidnight, he heard a soft footfall, and in a moment saw a man's formapproaching. Holding his pistol ready, he waited until the man camewithin a few yards of him, then called softly, "Who are you?"
"My Ah-Sam, allo lightee," came the answer in a whisper.
Bob lowered the pistol, and the Chinaman stepped forward panting, anddropped a heavy bundle at his feet.
"Where is Sing-Cheng?"
"He one piecee li wailo, he hidee. Chang-Wo look-see. 'Ch'hoy! twopiecee man', he say; 'my catchum, killum'; one piecee man no makeemuchee bobbely; he come this-side allo lightee; Chang-Wo no can look-seehe."
"I see, you come one at a time; Sing-Cheng will give you time to gethere, then come himself. A good idea of yours, Ah-Sam. Now tell me howyou got on."
They had reached the village at early morning, said Ah-Sam, and madetheir purchases with no difficulty. On leaving the place they hadthought it advisable to make a slight circuit, and had unluckily, afteran hour's march, come plump upon two of Chang-Wo's men on horseback. Oneof the men had instantly recognized Sing-Cheng, and attempted to layhands on him, while the other made at Ah-Sam with his spear.
"And how did you get away?" asked Bob.
"Killum, one, two," replied Ah-Sam simply.
"The horses?"
"He lun wailo chop-chop; my no can catchee."
"Towards the fort?"
"No, massa; lun far far wailo that-side."
He pointed in the opposite direction. Bob gave a sigh of relief.
"Did you see any more of the brigands as you came?" he asked.
"Look-see one, two, t'lee; he makee my hidee; my come this-side vellyslow, galaw!"
In a few minutes the chief arrived, bearing his share of the burden.Both he and Ah-Sam were exhausted; in any case it was too late toattempt anything that night; and Bob told the men to eat and rest, forthere would be work for them on the morrow.
When, next day, dusk was deepening into night, a sentry on the wall ofthe fort abutting on the ravine might possibly have seen, if it hadoccurred to him to look, a figure moving by almost imperceptible degreesalong the face of the cleft opposite. The course followed was along anarrow ledge some feet below the top, leading from the inner end of thecleft to a spot immediately below the stout iron girder whose presenceand purpose had given Bob so much food for conjecture. Arriving at thegirder, the figure reached up, cautiously passed the looped end of along rope over it, and, threading the other end through the loop, drewit tight over the girder and pushed it gently with the stripped branchof a sapling towards the centre. Then he retraced his steps along theledge, carrying the loose end of the rope. The slack, dangling in thecleft, displaced a stone, which fell with a rattle to the bottom. Thestealthy form hurried his pace to reduce the length of the slack,fearing for a moment lest the fall of the stone might have been heard inthe fort. But there was little risk; stones must frequently drop downthe sides of the ravine; and in any case the rope, in the almost totalobscurity of the narrow cleft, was invisible from the farther side.
At the nearer end of the ledge Bob rejoined Ah-Sam and the chief, whowere crouching by a couple of stout saplings that overhung the deepgorge beneath. Making fast to one of the saplings the rope he carried,he sat down and spoke in low tones to the Chinaman, explaining thescheme which he had devised after hours of meditation.
The situation was a simple one, yet one that called for nerve andunbounded courage. Immediately opposite the cleft, on the other side ofthe ravine, was the small rocky platform, with a staple in the wallabove. The width of the ravine, as Bob estimated, was some eighty feet,but it was impossible to make any more accurate calculation; it might bemore than eighty, it might be less; and a few feet one way or the otherwould make all the difference in the plan he had conceived. He had cometo the conclusion that the iron girder which had so much piqued hiscuriosity had an intimate connection with the platform and staple. Ithad been there in the old chief's time; nobody knew when or why it hadbeen placed in position, but Bob felt convinced that girder and platformhad been intended to serve as a means of ingress to or egress from thefort if it should chance to be invested. A besieging force, relying onthe apparent impossibility of scaling the side of the ravine, would beunlikely to maintain a guard there. But Bob's idea was that, suspendedfrom a rope fastened to the girder, an active man could swing across thechasm, and, if the length of the rope were properly adjusted, could landgently on the platform, make good his footing by grasping the staple,and thereby prevent himself from falling backward with the return swingof the rope. If the rope were too long, he would of course run the riskof being dashed against the wall of the ravine beneath the platform. Ifit were too short, he would fail to reach the staple and swing back intothe cleft; and as the return swing would obviously not carry him to hisstarting-point, he would again swing across the ravine, and so thependulous movement would continue until he came to rest perpendicularlybeneath the girder. He would then either have to climb the eighty feetof rope until he reached the iron bar, or drop the sheer two hundredfeet to the bottom of the cleft. There was a further danger. On thereturn swing the man might, owing to oscillation in the rope, fail toenter the cleft, and be carried against its jagged edge, probably withsufficient force to stun, disable, or even kill him. Clearly theattempt would be full of danger; but it was this hazardous feat that Bobhad resolved to attempt.
One necessary precaution could be taken in advance. It was to discoverby experiment the length of rope needed. Bob guessed that the ledge onwhich he stood, at the narrow end of the cleft farthest from the ravine,must always have formed the springing-ground; its position thereforegoverned the length. Having explained to his two companions what he hadin mind, he cut their expostulations short by borrowing some of theirupper garments, which he made into a soft bundle. He weighted this withsome heavy stones, tied it to the rope, and then, as the moon threw adim light on the opposite side of the ravine, he placed the bundle inAh-Sam's hands and made his way to the neighbourhood of the girder.Arriving there, he lifted his hand as a signal to the Chinaman to loosehis hold on the bundle, and anxiously watched its course. It sweptthrough the cleft, across the ravine, came to rest apparently within ayard of the platform, then swung back, making a giddy oscillation andnarrowly escaping the wall of the cleft, until as it approached theledge Ah-Sam caught it by means of a noose in a shorter rope. Itsunsteady return journey gave Bob some alarm, but he surmised that withthe greater weight of a man the rope would probably have risen higherand taken a more direct backward swing.
The experiment was sufficiently satisfactory, and then Bob explained tohis amazed listeners what he proposed to do. He would himself risk theattempt. If he got safely across he would fix the rope to the stapleand make a preliminary investigation of the pathway leading upwards fromthe platform. Should he require assistance he would
return and loosenthe rope, which would then swing back to a position perpendicularlyunder the girder. Ah-Sam meanwhile was to crawl to the extreme end ofthe ledge just below the bar; he was to obtain a hold of the rope as itswung loose, return to the innermost end of the cleft, and swing acrossthe ravine as Bob had done. On the other hand, if Bob found thatnothing could be done from the platform, or if he were detected, Ah-Samwas to cover his retreat with the revolver.
"What Sing-Cheng do allo tim'?" asked Ah-Sam when he had grasped his owninstructions.
"He will remain behind. Tell him so."
When the chief understood this he was greatly indignant, and began toprotest in loud tones. Bob checked him peremptorily. He felt that ifhe gained admittance to the fort precious time would be wasted if he hadto give orders to Sing-Cheng through Ah-Sam, while if two men wereunable to effect their purpose it was unlikely that three would succeed.He did not consider it necessary to argue with the chief, but pacifiedhim by saying that, if Ah-Sam crossed over, he was to take theChinaman's place at the end of the cleft and watch carefully lest itproved necessary to cover the retreat of the two from the other side.
All was now ready. But Bob waited for nearly an hour until themoonlight fell full upon the platform and the staple above it. Then herose, placed his right foot in the loop of rope from which he hadremoved the experimental bundle, and stood on the ledge, grasping therope firmly with his right hand. It was an anxious moment. He felt asudden shudder run through his body as he hesitated on the brink,looking at the black gulf before him, and realizing that he was in verytruth taking his life into his hands. But his hesitation was butmomentary. With a determination and a hope that were themselves prayerhe set his lips, pulled the rope taut, and dropped, his companionsholding their breath as they watched him. There was little jerk as hefell, but it seemed an eternity before the swift motion through the airbegan to slacken on the upward swing. Suddenly, just as he felt that hewas coming to a stop, he saw the staple above him slightly to his right.He jerked himself up and sideways in the effort to catch it with hisunoccupied left hand; he touched it with the tips of his fingers; thenthe sagging rope became taut again; he fell swiftly downwards, felt aslight jerk at the lowest point of the rope's course, twirled round andround, and grazing the wall, it seemed by an inch, shot upwards towardsthe ledge. He had only time to wonder whether Ah-Sam would catch himwith the loop when he again came to rest and began to fall downwards.There was a sudden constriction about his waist; he felt a sharp pain;then, to his relief, though to his discomfort also, he was steadilyhauled in, and landed breathless, exhausted, and dazed on the ledgebeside Ah-Sam.
When he was again able to take stock of his surroundings, he observedthat Ah-Sam had fastened to one of the saplings one end of the rope bywhich he had been landed. But for this precaution the two men on theledge could scarcely have arrested his fall, but would probably havebeen dragged themselves headlong into the cleft.
"That was well thought of," said Bob to Ah-Sam. "Now, I must haveanother try."
"No, no," returned Ah-Sam. "Massa too muchee tired; Ah-Sam tly onetim'; massa no can do evelyting."
"Your turn by and by. When I have rested a little I'll drop again. Itcan be done. It will not be so strange and breathless the second time."
He waited until he felt completely recovered from the experience, which,though lasting only a few seconds, had been a very trying one; then herose for the second attempt. This time he placed his left foot in theloop and grasped the rope with his left hand, leaving his right free.He sprang off with his right foot, down into the gulf. He went throughthe same series of sensations as before, except that he was moreconscious of the motion and more alert at the end of the swing. Therewas the staple again; again on his right side; he flung out his arm asrapidly as he could, touched the iron, caught it, obtained a good grip.As he did so, the whole weight of his body was thrown on his right hand;but the strain was only momentary, for instinctively advancing the rightleg he reached the edge of the platform, and with a forward jerk hestood safe but breathless on firm rock.
Waiting for a few moments to steady himself, he released his left footfrom the rope. Then hitching the end to the staple, he made his waycautiously up the path. It was broader than it had seemed from theopposite side of the ravine. At the point where the path had appearedto vanish into the cliff he now saw that it entered a low tunnel. Goinginto this, treading warily, he found that he had come to a flight ofnarrow steps. It was pitch dark. With his hands lightly touching thewall on either side he crept up, waiting after each step, anxious,suspicious, his ears strained to catch every sound, his eyes peering forany light above him. Suddenly the steps ceased; he was on level groundagain; he stole forward on tiptoe for what he thought must be betweentwenty and thirty yards. From the direction of the tunnel he guessedthat he must now be near one of the flanking towers: the left-hand oneoverhanging the ravine. There was still no light, still no sound; thiswas not surprising, for the whole garrison save the sentries wereprobably asleep. Yet, if he found no light, his enterprise almostcertainly must fail. He went on, groping, conscious of the mustyatmosphere of the passage. He could see nothing: his hands wereoutstretched, and he moved them now to the right, now to the left,touching the walls on both sides.
All at once his right hand came upon an obstacle immediately in front ofhim. It was either the blind end of the tunnel or a door. His heartsank as the thought crossed his mind that the tunnel, so long in disuse,might have been bricked up. But moving his hand over the obstructingsurface he felt that it was of wood, and in a moment he touchedsomething cold that projected an inch or two towards him. He pressed itgently, pushed it, tried to lift it, then bore down upon it; it yieldedsuddenly, and from the other side came the unmistakable click of alatch. He held his breath, waiting motionless for more than a minute,fearful lest the sound should have been heard by someone on the otherside. All was still as death. Keeping the latch depressed, he pushedthe door gently, then more firmly. There was no yielding. Again hisheart sank; was the door bolted on the inside? Had he come thus far onlyto be baulked at last? But doors might open outwards as well asinwards. He pulled gently at the catch, and stopped with a start, forhe heard the dreaded creak of a hinge. The door had begun to opentowards him; through the inch-wide opening a draught of cold air playedupon his face.
Had the creak been heard? He waited, listening. The silence was stillunbroken. Then he began to pull the door towards him by almostinfinitesimal degrees, and with every least movement there was a faintcreak that sent a thrill through him. Yet it was better to risk manyslight and interrupted sounds than one loud and prolonged; and hecontinued, lessening the strain on the hinges by giving an upwardpressure upon the catch.
It seemed an age before the door was sufficiently open to allow him towriggle through. He waited again; then moved slowly and warily forward,to find within a few paces that his foot was arrested by another step.He had come to a staircase. This time the flight wound round and round,and as he rose higher a glint of moonlight fell through a narrow slit inthe right-hand wall; he must be on a winding stair within the tower. Heleft the dim light behind and came again into inky blackness; then, atanother turn, another slit gave entrance to the pale beam. At last,after mounting until it seemed that his winding course would never end,he came into open air and full moonlight; he was on the roof of thetower. Before stepping out from the shelter of the stairway he glancedeagerly to right and left. The roof was vacant. It was hexagonal inshape. He wondered whether it was overlooked by other towers. Droppingon his knees, he crawled under cover of the wall that intercepted themoonlight, and made his way thus to the parapet. With relief he sawthat the other towers were no higher, but apparently indeed a few feetlower. Completing the circuit of the roof, he came to another stairwayimmediately opposite the one he had just left. He entered cautiously,and found that this also was a winding stair, differing from the otheronly in the fact that there were no patches of light from sli
ts in thewall. He went down step by step, quietly, until at a turn he wasbrought to a sudden pause by the sight of a small lamp burning in aniche opposite a heavily-barred door. For a minute he stood still; thenstepped silently down until he came to the door. He listened; heventured to place his ear against the wood: there was no sound. Waitingfor a brief space, he hovered between advancing and retiring; then, withquickening breath, he moved on past the door until he came to the footof the staircase.
He there perceived that he was in a narrow passage, with mattingunderfoot. It was dark, except at the farther end, which was slightlyilluminated by a dull glow, evidently the reflection of a light fromsome point round the corner. Proceeding with cautious movements towardsit, he came to a spot where the passage made a sharp turn to the right.He dropped to the floor, and, after listening to make sure that no onewas approaching, ventured to peep round. At the end of the passage hesaw a half-open door, through which the light was streaming; and now heheard the low hum of voices, and in the distance a faint clatter as ofcooking utensils. On his left was a massive door clamped with plates ofiron. It was shut. Bob guessed that he had been following a passagethat led round the inner wall of the tower, and that the iron door wasthe principal entrance to the tower from the central courtyard of thefort. On the right hand, opposite this door, he saw a broad corridor orentrance-hall, illuminated by a large oil-lamp. He rose and peepedround the corner; the corridor ended with another door richly hung withsilk.
He waited for a moment. If either door should be suddenly thrown openhe was lost. He almost feared lest someone should hear the beating ofhis heart, so madly was it thumping. It was touch and go. The risk wasgreat, but he had a great purpose. He stepped into the corridor, andcrept along towards the silk-hung door.
Lifting the curtain, he found that the door stood slightly ajar. Heheld his breath as he peeped round, and spied, in the midst of amagnificently-furnished apartment, crowded with the rich spoils of manya raid, the one-eared Manchu Chang-Wo, reclining on a divan, andsmoking. He wore a loose jacket of blue silk above his pantaloons, anda skullcap. His features had the same impassivity that alwayscharacterized him; from his face one could never have guessed whether hewas happy or the reverse. As Bob looked, Chang-Wo raised his hand, andwith the knuckles struck a small gong that stood by his side. Bobwondered with no little alarm from what quarter the summons would beanswered, and gripped his revolver. From a door on the left of theapartment a burly Manchu entered. To him Chang-Wo addressed a few curtwords; whereupon the man kow-towed and disappeared through the doorway.There was a sound of voices, then light footsteps in the passage at theend of the corridor--a continuation of the passage up which Bob himselfhad come. He flattened himself against the wall just as three figurescrossed the end of the corridor in front of the iron door, and wentalong the passage towards the staircase by which he had descended. Theywere no doubt carrying out the order Chang-Wo had just given. What if,on their return, they should take the nearest way to their chief's roomand come down the corridor instead of along the passage and through thedoor leading, as Bob conjectured, to the kitchen? In that case theywould certainly discover him. He could not risk discovery, so tiptoeingalong the corridor he followed the men, calculating his pace by thesound of their shuffling footsteps ahead.
He came in a few moments to the foot of the staircase, and knew by thehollow sounds coming down that the three men had ascended. Theirmission apparently was either to the roof or to the heavily-barred doorhe had passed on his descent. The passage led on past the opening ofthe staircase, and as it was quite dark in that direction Bob resolvedto go on for a few steps and await the men's return, trusting to thedarkness to conceal him. Listening near the foot of the stairs he heardthe clatter of the bolts as they were withdrawn at the door above, thenthe creak of rusty hinges. There was an interval; then he heard the menreturning, and as they came down, with the sound of their voices wasmingled the clank of chains.
They descended slowly, and as with care. They reached the bottom; theyentered the passage; and then in the dim glow Bob saw that there werenot three men now, but four. The fourth, a smaller man than the rest,was being half pushed, half dragged along, and all the time his everymovement was accompanied by the clank-clank of metal. Bob felt a rush ofblood to his face; his fingers tingled as though with galvanism. Hepressed on after the group. They came, as he had done, to the great irondoor. As he had done, they turned into the corridor opposite; and theypassed into Chang-Wo's hall by the draped door where Bob himself had buta few minutes before been peeping. Almost reckless of consequences hefollowed them. They left the door half open, and from the folds of asilken hanging he beheld a piteous scene.
Between two of the Manchu guards Kobo was held up before his enemy. Hewas but the shadow of his former self. Bob could not see his face, buthe saw his thin manacled wrists, he saw the hollows in his neck, andthese, with the drooping helplessness of his attitude, were evidence ofsomething too terrible for words.
Chang-Wo was speaking. He took the pipe from his mouth and jerked aword at the third Manchu, who went into the kitchen and returned with ametal can. Then Chang-Wo spoke to Kobo, snapping out the syllables in aharsh staccato that matched well the cold cruelty of his stony face. Itmattered little to Bob that he could not understand what the Manchusaid, or what Kobo replied in a thin husky whisper, scarcely audible.He heard a mocking note in Chang-Wo's voice; he saw the cup held beforeKobo's face, but just beyond his reach; he saw Kobo's head move slowlyfrom side to side as if making the gesture of refusal; and he guessedthat this was the extremity of torture to which his friend had been put:that he had been kept without water, and that a brimming cup was nowbeing offered to him in the hope of tempting him to betray his country.
For some minutes the scene continued--Chang-Wo's cold metallic voiceaddressing the fainting Japanese; Kobo murmuring his steadfast refusal;the Manchu offering the cup. Then suddenly it ceased; Chang-Wo, hisexpression never changing, flung up his hand; the water was taken away;the two guards wheeled Kobo round, and in the moment before Bob turnedto retreat he caught one glimpse of his friend's face.
"God in heaven!" he muttered, and, white to the lips, went silently overthe matting to the foot of the staircase.
Kobo: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War Page 25
