CHAPTER II
RED-HEADED BEGGAR AND MISSIONARY
Turning my back on him, I edged toward a desk. It seemed to me that hehad not recognized me as the austere man in the bus, or perhaps he choseto pass without encountering me again. He stared about the place, leaningon one leg for a minute as if undecided what to do next, or not quitesure he was in the right establishment.
I could hear voices in a room close at hand, and Meeker turned toward thedoor, walking silently in his cloth deck-shoes, and passed into the room.I heard a man give a cry of astonishment, followed by a growl of wrath,and Meeker ran out again, retreating backward and holding his hands up inprotest.
"My dear sirs!" he whined. "No offence, I am sure! I hope you have takenno offence, for none was intended, and I did not mean to disturb anyperson--I was simply asking alms for a seamen's chapel, and I do mostsincerely beg your pardons, gentlemen."
He went into the street, and a sallow-faced man with a slender malaccacane held in his hand as if it were a rapier, came to the door of theroom and said something in French, indignant that he should be disturbed.He waved the cane menacingly after Meeker and slammed the door.
Leaving the bank, I turned toward the Escolta, which is the principalbusiness street of Manila. The shop windows attracted me, and I saunteredfor half an hour or more. I wanted a new field-glass, and as I stood onthe pavement at a corner and looked in at a jeweller's window I caughtthe image of Meeker in the glass, which was thrown in a shadow by anawning.
I turned without thinking Meeker could have any interest in what I mightdo, and saw him half a block away talking to the little red-headed beggarwho had looked in at the bank door. Meeker evidently caught me looking athim, for he whispered to the beggar, who hastened away, taking a furtiveglance at me over his shoulder as he left. I turned toward Meeker, and heswung away down the street as I approached him, with more nimbleness thanI supposed was in his old bones.
"I suppose the pest will be at my heels for the next week," I toldmyself, annoyed at the way the missionary crossed my path. That was thefourth time I had seen him in an hour, and I dreaded to go to the hotel,sure I would meet him again--for, of course, he could not have goneanywhere else but to the Oriente.
I thought it strange that he should be talking to the little beggar,although it never occurred to me that they were watching me; and, even ifthey were, I would have not concerned myself much about it. As it was, Iascribed Meeker's embarrassment when I last saw him to what had passedbetween us in the bus, and concluded that he was trying to avoid me,which I considered a praiseworthy effort on his part.
There was a possibility of orders awaiting me at the hotel; and, althoughit was not yet noon, I hailed a rig and drove there. The clerk passedover the familiar yellow envelope, and my message read: "Proceed toHong-Kong for orders." I replied that I would leave at once, and themessage was gone before I discovered that there wasn't a steamer forHong-Kong before the end of the week, five days away.
It would have sounded silly to dispatch another message, telling of lackof steamers. I had supposed a steamer sailed every day or two, and mytemper was ruffled at my mistake and the prospect of fretting away a weekin the heat of Manila.
A little item in the _Times_ gave me hope. It told of the steamer_Kut Sang_ coming out of dry dock to sail for Hong-Kong that veryafternoon with general cargo. There was a bare chance that I might getpassage in her, for the paper referred to her as a former passenger boat,and I was sure I could cajole the company into selling me a berth, orbribe the captain into signing me as a member of the crew, with no dutiesto perform, a common practice.
"This is Mr. Trenholm of the Amalgamated Press," I told the clerk in thesteamship office over the hotel's desk-telephone. "Simply must get toHong-Kong as soon as possible, and would like to go in the _Kut Sang_this afternoon. May I buy passage in her?"
It was hard to make him understand, for he was a Filipino who insistedon speaking English, although I had a working knowledge of Spanish. Hefirst mistook me for a stevedore, then for the manager, and next for theHong-Kong-Shanghai Bank. I stormed at him, irritated that I should haveto shout my business for the benefit of the loafers in the hotel office.
"Correspondent!" I yelled in answer to his questions. "Newspapercorrespondent working on the war. I want to go to Hong-Kong in the_Kut Sang_!"
"I am very sorry," he said, without explaining his sorrow.
"May I go in the _Kut Sang_?" I insisted, and he told me I could, andafter he had talked in a low tone with somebody in his office, said thatI couldn't, which was exasperating. I decided to go to the steamshipoffice and plead with the officials. Hanging up the receiver, I signalledto the boy to call a carriage.
"You want to go in the _Kut Sang_, my dear sir?" came a purring voice atmy shoulder. I looked up, and the Rev. Luther Meeker smiled at me.
I growled something at him to the effect that I wondered if I was ever tolose sight of him. He bowed again and grinned.
"Sorry that you object to me," he murmured, with lifted eyebrows. "Butwe'll let all that pass. I might inform you that it is impossible to goin the steamer _Kut Sang_. You will pardon me, I am sure, but I heardwhat you said at the telephone, and I am willing to annoy you to save youtime and trouble. I repeat, there is absolutely no possibility of yourgetting passage in the _Kut Sang_."
"How do you know?" I asked, still curt with him, but feeling a trifleashamed of myself for insulting him.
"Because they have just refused me, my dear sir--allow me--the Rev.Luther Meeker of the London Evangelical Society," and he gave me acard which had seen considerable service.
"Trenholm is my name. Sorry I haven't a card. Equally sorry, Mr. Meeker,that you have been refused passage in the _Kut Sang_. Excuse me, but I amin a hurry."
"It won't avail you anything to visit the office," he said, with sad mienand a sneer on his lips.
"And why not?"
"If they wouldn't let me go, a man of the cloth, with credentials fromthe Bishop of Salisbury, your case is hopeless."
"Thanks for the compliment," I shot at him, and left him staring after mewith puzzled surprise on his wrinkled countenance. He stepped to the doorand saw me enter a _quilez_, and there was a gleam of anger in his craftyold eyes. The sunlight made him blink, for he was not wearing goggles,and as I rolled toward the Parian Gate, I looked back and saw himstanding in the door and shading his eyes with his hand to look after me.
Taking possession of a very surprised steamship-agent, I informed himthat I was going to Hong-Kong in the _Kut Sang_, and I was ready to arguewith him until the vessel sailed. A refusal was out of the question--hedidn't have time to refuse. I spread all sorts of papers on the counterand threatened to bring all the officers of the Hong-Kong-ShanghaiBank up there to argue for me.
The talk about the bank seemed to help me wonderfully, for he had awhispered conversation with a gray-bearded old gentleman, who looked meover with a shrewd eye, and nodded his assent to my buying a ticket.
"It won't be necessary for you to sign ship's articles," said the agent,turning affable all of a sudden. "We have a passenger-license for the_Kut Sang_, although we have withdrawn her from the passenger-tradeexcept in cases of emergency or delay of the regular ships. But shehasn't been in the passenger-trade for nearly a year and we won'tundertake to guarantee the table or service.
"You won't find her equal to a liner, and the ticket is sold with theunderstanding that she is a cargo-boat, and if you are willing to takepot-luck with Captain Riggs, that is your affair. However, it isunderstood that you are not to make unreasonable complaints or demands ofthe master."
My answer to this was to dump a handful of gold coins on the counterbefore he could change his mind. I told him I was willing to go to HongKong in a coal-barge.
"You will find it lonesome on the passage," he said.
"I'll manage all right," I replied, not quite rid of my asperity overtheir lack of decision about taking a passenger.
"We have already sold one ticket,
" continued the clerk, as he put downfigures on a pad. He glanced at me with a quizzical expression, and thensmiled.
"One passenger will help," I commented, for something better to say.
"If he doesn't talk an arm off you before you reach Hong-Kong, I'll giveyou the ticket for sixpence. He's a missionary," he grinned.
"The Rev. Luther Meeker!" I cried in horror.
"The Rev. Luther Meeker!" he repeated, and gave me my change with achuckle.
Naturally, I was astonished to discover that Meeker was to be a passengerwith me in the _Kut Sang_, but I was out in the street again before itdawned upon me that the situation was more than a mere coincidence. Themissionary had lied to me when he said he had been refused passage,he had misled me when he said it was impossible to buy a ticket in the_Kut Sang_, and I could make nothing of it all but that he did not wantme to know he was sailing in the vessel, and that he did not want me togo in her.
The idea that he would interfere with my plans and delay me for a weeksimply because he objected to my presence in the same steamer with himfilled me with wrath. I so lost my temper for a minute that I was bent ongoing back to the hotel and knocking him down, missionary or nomissionary; but, instead, came to the conclusion that the joke was onhim, and I would have plenty of opportunities to retaliate upon himbetween Manila and Hong-Kong.
Before I got into my _quilez_ my ire was roused again at the sight of thered-headed beggar lounging in a doorway across the street, obviouslywatching me. It was plain enough that Meeker had sent him to spy upon meand learn if I went to the steamship office. The little beggar saw melooking at him and dodged into a doorway, but fled when he saw me startafter him.
In the _quilez_ I laughed at myself for allowing a prying old man likeMeeker to upset my temper, and, as I rode back to the hotel, put the bothof them out of my mind; but promised myself that I would take my revengeon the old pest in some way aboard the steamer.
My bag was packed again, and I was ready for tiffin and then an afternoonnap, to be called in time to catch the steamer. My telephone rang, and Ihastened to answer it, expecting orders from the cable-office, and hopingthat London had decided, after all, to send me after the Baltic fleet tothe south, rather than to Hong-Kong.
"Is this Mr. Trenholm? This is the steamship office, Mr. Trenholm. Wewish to inform you that the _Kut Sang_ has been delayed until to-morrowmorning for cargo which did not get in to-day. Sails to-morrow sure."
It made little difference to me, and I would be glad to have a night'ssleep ashore after the rice-steamer. However, it would be wise to havethe exact sailing-time of the _Kut Sang_, so I rang up the steamshipoffice and asked, not wishing to run the risk of getting to the mole andfinding the steamer gone.
"She sails this afternoon at five, as noted on the board," was thestartling response to my query. I was so taken aback for a second that Ididn't know what to think or say. I remarked into the telephone thatsomebody in the steamship office must take me for a fool, and that I didnot consider such things jokes.
No, they had not telephoned me the sailing was delayed; couldn't say whohad; certainly no one in the steamship office could think of doing such athing, which sounded reasonable enough; knew nothing whatever about adelay, and were quite perturbed to hear I had been told there was; had noidea how it happened, but there was no doubt the _Kut Sang_ would sail onschedule time, for the stevedore was there in the office at that minutegetting lading-slips signed, and he knew of no delay.
"Meeker's little joke is going too far," I decided, after I had hung upthe receiver. "I think there are a few words I can say to him that willconvince him I am not to be trifled with in this manner."
Seizing my cap, I pulled the door open abruptly and almost fell over thelittle red-headed beggar lurking near my room. He darted down thestairway, and I leaped after him.
The Devil's Admiral Page 2
