Part 27

They withdrew for some distance into the passage, and sat down. In a few words Mr. Brown explained what had happened: how on the previous evening, when they had been reading in their hut, they had been surprised and overpowered by two ruffianly posselentsys and forced to accompany their captors up the hill path. The men were unknown to Mr. Brown; he could only explain their action by supposing that the plot to rescue him and Count Walewski had been discovered.

"How did you find us out, Jack?"

"We tracked the fellows by the footprint of one of them; or rather Hi Lo did; he has done me many a good turn since you disappeared, Father; I'll tell you the whole story when you are safe."

"What are we to do, Jack?"

"It won't be safe to leave here before night. If we did, we should be sure to run up against one of the search parties that are probably out by this time."

"You're right. I can manage to hold out, I think; but I'm afraid for Count Walewski. He's not so strong as I am; we've both been without food for more than twelve hours."

"My go fetchee chow-chow," said Hi Lo instantly.

Jack looked dubiously at the boy. Was it safe? he wondered. Hi Lo pleaded so earnestly to be allowed to go that Jack at last consented.

"Be very careful," he said. "When you get out of the mine, go a roundabout way to the shore. If you get there safely you'll be able to reach the junk. Tell Mademoiselle that we hope to see her to-night, and bring just enough food to keep us going until then. Be as quick as you can, boy, and hide if you see anybody on the way."

"Allo lightee, masta; my lun chop-chop; no piecee Lusski catchee Hi Lo, no fea'!"

And he slipped away.

*CHAPTER XXX*

*Crowded Moments*

A Search Party--Touch and Go--Food--Sowinski Reappears--Trackers Tracked--Recrimination--De Profundis--After Long Years

"Now, Jack," said Mr. Brown when Hi Lo was gone, "do you think it safer to stay here, or to leave the mine and hide in the woods till the evening?"

"Here certainly, Father. If we go away we stand a chance of running up against a search party. They are bound to search the workings."

"Yes, if they remember the mine," said the Count. "It has not been worked for several years. And suppose they come into it. How can we escape them?"

"Hi Lo and I nearly came to grief in one of the galleries. The air was very foul. We might hide there, going as far in as is safe. We could keep wet handkerchiefs about our mouths and hold out longer than the pursuers. They wouldn't dare to strike a light for fear of an explosion."

"What is the height of the gallery?" asked Mr. Brown.

"From five to eight feet, I should say. It varies. The other galleries seem to be regular."

"Well, whatever the height, the purer air will be at the top. If in one of the higher parts we could raise a platform and mount it we might venture farther in than if we remained on the floor. Can we do that?"

"Yes, there are some logs just at the entrance. It's worth risking, and the sooner the better."

Hurrying to the entrance, Mr. Brown and Jack carried in as many balks of timber as they could find, dropping them at the turning of the gallery. Then, holding their breath, they rushed one of the logs into the gallery as far as they dared, and ran back to the open passage. They repeated this operation until a small platform was raised some two feet above the floor; then, bidding Jack remain in safety, Mr. Brown mounted to test the result. He found that the air, though foul, was not bad enough to be dangerous. The position would be endurable for a few minutes. He hoped that it would not be necessary to have recourse to this unpleasant place of refuge, but it was well to know that it existed in case of need. Then, somewhat sickened by the foul air they had swallowed, they went to find the Count, who had volunteered to keep watch at the entrance to the mine.

He reported that he had seen, far off on the hillside, two parties of men moving in different directions, in a manner that suggested a search. But they had now disappeared. For some time nothing further was seen, and Jack and his father took the opportunity to exchange confidences about all that had happened since that June day when they had parted at the door of their house in Moukden.

Suddenly the Count, who had remained constantly on the watch, considerately leaving father and son to themselves, touched Mr. Brown on the arm and pointed. The heads of half a dozen men could be seen topping the brow of a slope about 300 yards below them. Instantly the three withdrew into the first gallery, taking the precaution to remove their boots, so that they would not be heard if they had to retreat to the platform. In a few minutes they heard the echoing voices of the men as they left the open and entered the mine. It was impossible to see who they were, but the Count recognized the voice of one of the prison warders, and Mr. Brown that of a prisoner who had occupied the next bed when he was for a week in hospital. It was soon apparent what the prisoner had been brought for. The party halted within a few yards of the fugitives, and their words were now distinctly audible.

"Now, Scuratoff, you know the galleries?" said the warder.

"Yes; I worked here seven years ago."

"Then lead the way. Is it safe to light a lantern?"

"Maybe; I cannot say. It used to be safe enough in the main gallery, but in my time there was foul air in the side galleries. We had safety-lamps."

"Yes, confound it! I looked for a safety-lamp, but there wasn't one to be found in the place. We must do the best we can with the ordinary lantern; and to make sure, we'll only use it in the main gallery. If the air in the others is too foul for a light, it will be too foul for life."

The waiting fugitives heard the click of the lantern as the warder opened it, and silently retreated into the side gallery, raising their make-shift respirators to their mouths. They saw a feeble light at the junction of the two passages. The search party continued their progress and halted where the galleries branched, being now in full view of the three within.

"This is the dangerous passage--this one to the right," said the prisoner. "Better take the light away."

The warder retreated some paces with the lantern.

"Go in, Scuratoff, as far as you can. Foul air be hanged! You'll be well rewarded, remember, if you find the runaways--a year off your sentence, at any rate."

The man groped his way in, while Jack and the others quietly drew back to the little platform, where they took their stand. Nearer and nearer drew the Russian; it seemed as though he must discover them, and Jack's hand instinctively went to one of the two pistols he had had the forethought to bring from the junk. Then the voice of the warder, sounding hollow in the vaulted passage, was heard calling.

"Do you find anything?"

"Neither man nor beast," replied the prisoner in a shout. Hitherto he had held his breath, but after speaking he took a mouthful of the foul air. Instantly he turned, rushed down the passage, and stumbled gasping at the opening into the main gallery.

His companions dragged him out into the purer air, and the warder retreated still farther with the lantern. Jack and the others stepped down from the platform, and hurried towards the main gallery, to get the much-needed air while the man was being revived.

"That's enough for that one," they heard the warder say. "We'll push on."

When the searchers passed the entrance of the gallery, the fugitives had again retreated, but were within two yards of them.

It was long before the Russians returned, and meanwhile the fugitives ventured into the main gallery, to enjoy the comparatively pure air as long as they could before they had again to seek shelter. At last the search party, baffled, passed by towards the entrance. Jack heard the warder commenting on the chain they had seen hanging over the edge of the precipice. Somebody at some time must have descended by its means to the ledge; but if the fugitives, they had paid the penalty, for there was no sign of them.

They left the mine. Ten minutes afterwards Jack ventured as far as the entrance. They had disappeared.

By and by Hi Lo returned with a small supply of food, which the three ate ravenously. He reported that every junk in the bay had been searched; and that the "missy" had hardly been prevailed upon not to return with him, so anxious was she to see her father. The condition of Count Walewski was pitiful to behold. Privation and anxiety were telling upon his already broken constitution, and Jack feared lest under the terrible suspense his heart strings should snap.

"Keep a good heart, my friend," said Mr. Brown. "In a few hours all will be well."

The day wore away, all too slowly, and evening settled down over the hillside. Jack, looking out, saw a slight mist rising from the sea, and welcomed it as favouring their dash to the bay, where the vessels at anchor were already raising their riding-lights. So intent was he upon the scene seawards that he had not noticed two men, who were coming up from the woods, furtively, as if fearful of being observed. When he did see them, he shrank back in momentary alarm, remembering immediately that as he had not left the shade of the dark entrance he could not have been seen. He watched their approach. One of the two was of huge stature; the other!----Jack felt his heart leap, for the other, whom in the distance he recognized rather by his gait than his features, was Anton Sowinski, the man whom he believed to be hundreds of miles away in Manchuria, in the safe hands of Ah Lum.

"Look-see, masta!" whispered Hi Lo at his elbow. "Polo man, galaw!"

Once more his father's enemy was upon his track. The Pole's presence was of evil import. What was he doing here? Was he merely a searcher, like the rest? He halted near the entrance, and the taller man, who overtopped him by at least six inches, stooped and drew from behind a broken truck a coil of rope. Then both came into the gallery.

Jack slipped back to the others.

"Sowinski!" he said in a whisper. During their conversation earlier in the day he had told his father of his dealings with the Pole, and of the man's identity with Ladislas Streleszki, the traitorous steward of the Count. This news Mr. Brown had kept from the old man, who had been all along in absolute ignorance that he owed his exile and imprisonment to a member of his own household.

Once more the fugitives shrank back into the foul passage. As the two men passed the entrance Jack heard Sowinski say:

"I cannot understand it. Are you sure they searched the cavern? There are not two caverns?"

"No, barin. There is only one. Scuratoff guided them; there is no mistake."

They turned into the left-hand passage. Jack instantly resolved to follow them. Without his boots he would be inaudible, and they carried no light. Accustomed as he now was to the darkness of the mine, he could move about it more rapidly than the Pole and his companion. He whispered his intention to his father.

"Better not."

"I don't think there's any danger. We three should be able to deal with the men, big as the Russian is. I'll give you one of my pistols. Hi Lo can fetch an iron rail from the workings for the Count to use."

"Very well, but be careful, my boy."

Jack slipped away in the wake of the two conspirators. In a few moments he heard the Russian apparently hailing someone in a low voice. Approaching within a few yards of them he heard the man still hailing. There was no reply. Then there was the chink of a boot against a chain.

"What's that?" cried Sowinski in his harsh voice. "Light your candle."

The posselentsy lit his candle. The two saw the chain wound about the wedges, and hanging over the brink. Jack wished he had removed it.

"Scuratoff had no rope," said the Russian. "He must have gone down to the ledge with this. Now tell me if I was right, barin."

"Hold your tongue, fool! The candle throws no light downward. Let it down over the edge."

Fastening it to the rope, the posselentsy paid the latter slowly out. A dash of spray from the waterfall extinguished the flame.

"Pull it up again!" cried Sowinski with a curse. Jack felt instinctively that the man was at a white heat of baffled rage.

Once more the candle, lighted after some trouble, was lowered. This time it escaped a wetting. The Russian stretched himself on his face and peered over.

"I can see nothing. Bozhe moi! They are not there."

He rose slowly and clumsily, pulling up the rope with the candle at the end. Then he turned and faced the Pole, and by the sputtering light Jack saw the look of silly amazement on his face.

"What did I tell you, you clumsy, hulking fool!" cried Sowinski through set teeth. "You've bungled it; idiot that you are. Why, why, I repeat, didn't you take my hint and do for them outright?"

"If it comes to that," replied the man, red with sullen anger, "why didn't you do it yourself? You wanted to run no risks; you wanted it done cheap; did you think I'd chance another twenty years in the prison yonder for two hundred roubles? No, I wouldn't do it. This was your plan; your plan, to save a few paltry roubles. I'd have cracked their heads if you'd made it worth my while; you've only yourself to blame."

"Yes, I was a fool to trust the thing to a sheep-headed lout like you."

"Sheep-headed! Look you, I stand no abuse. I've done your job; two hundred roubles is little enough for it; and I'll trouble you to hand over the balance."

"The balance!" snarled Sowinski. "Eka! You may think yourself lucky to have got what you have. You get no more from me."

"We'll see about that, you white-livered little rat!"

The man made a sudden step forward and shot out his free hand to grip the Pole by the throat. But Sowinski, instinctively aware of what was coming, drew back quickly, his right hand seeking his pocket. The Russian saw the movement, flung himself forward,--dropping the candle, which sputtered on the floor of the passage--seized the Pole with his right hand, and with the left clutched at the other's right arm. But he was a second too late. He missed his grasp, and even as he swung his opponent round with the intention of hurling him into the abyss, there was a flash and a report that startled a hundred echoes from the cavern and the galleries. The Russian gave a quick grunt; then all was in darkness; they had trodden out the light. Into the next moments so much was crowded that Jack could never disentangle the separate events in his mind. His father's voice; a cry from Hi Lo; an appalling scream from Sowinski; a dull thud, followed by a brief silence save for the splash and rumble of the cataract. Then, through the sound of the waters, came a second and heavier thud that turned Jack's blood cold. At his side his father struck a match.

"They're gone!" gasped Jack, white to the lips.

"Your pistol?"

"No."

"Thank God!"

Tempter and tempted had struck the ledge in their fall, rebounded, and gone headlong to the rocks a hundred feet below.

Some few minutes after midnight, a sampan put off silently from a solitary angle of the bay. Creeping through the white mist, slowly, to avoid the intervening junks, it skirted the anchored vessels and quietly ran alongside of the _Yu-ye_. A hooded figure leant over the bulwarks, watching with straining eyes as five dark figures climbed up the side.

Count Walewski tottered into his daughter's arms.

Jack turned away and spoke to the skipper. An order was given in a low voice. The junk, riding on a single anchor, slipped the cable and ran up her enormous foresail. Spars and cordage creaked; but all was silent around; and the sail filling to the strong north-easter, the junk began to make way towards the open sea.

*CHAPTER XXXI*

*Entente Cordiale*

Censored--A Letter--An Oxford Version--Last Words from Ah Lum--A Rencontre--Debit and Credit--Schwab Sympathizes--Business--Partnership--Light in the East

"My word! And then--and then?"

"That's all, Monsieur Brin. The old junk sailed magnificently; with morning light we found ourselves off the Japanese coast, and three days later ran safe into the harbour of Hakodate. There's nothing more to tell. We spent several weeks in Japan among the plum-blossoms, and--here we are, in time to see this great meeting of the fleets."

Monsieur Brin and Jack Brown were among a party seated at dinner in the George Hotel, Portsmouth. The Browns had landed at Southampton two days before with Count Walewski and his daughter. They had been met by Mrs. Brown and her two other children, and had now come to Portsmouth to witness the festivities in connection with the visit of the French fleet. Monsieur Brin was at the same hotel, in the capacity of special reporter for the _Soleil_.

"But now, Monsieur," continued Jack, "I've told you all our adventures. What about yourself? What have you been doing since I saw you last at Harbin?"

"Ah! You ask! My friend, my history is in sum one word--Kaiser! You left me in Harbin: well, I devote care to Hildebrand Schwab; he recovers; we are both recalled, he because his negatives are all lost, I because when I describe the only battle I saw, my despatch is blacked out by the censor. Naturally my redacteur open his eyes when he must pay my bills for such as this. Look! Here is a leaf of my copy; that is what the Russian censor has done--and Russia, par exemple! is the ally of France. Behold!"

He took a leaf from his pocket-book, and laid it on the table. It appeared as follows:--

"Les Russes ont commence aujourd'hui un ------------------ ------------------------------------ j'ai vu le general Kouropatkin qui buvait -------------------------------- -------------- 'Doucement berce sur ma mule fringante,' je chevauchais a cote du general ---------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------- au meme moment, psst! j'entends le sifflement d'un obus qui me va au----dessus de la tete eclater dans ------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- des jambes, des bras, *disjecta membra*, comme dit le ---------------- ------------ plus loin, un medecin qui plonge ------------ -------------------------- et ---------------------------- -------------- la bataille."

"That is my account of a most dramatic episode of the battle of the Sha-ho. What is left? Nothing! It provoke curiosity, it tantalise, but does it satisfy, does it excite, hein?"

"The censor has certainly made a terrible hash of it," said Mr. Brown, passing the paper round the table. It created much amusement, and seemed to fascinate Jack's fifteen-year-old brother Humphrey, who gazed at it with a sort of awful admiration.

"But you spoke of Herr Schwab," said Jack. "What became of him?"

"He came----"

"By gum!" interrupted Humphrey, "don't I wish old Caesar's despatches had been blacked out like this!"

Brin glanced at the boy over his glasses and resumed:

"Schwab came with me from Harbin by the same train. My word! it is Kaiser, Kaiser all the way. 'Our Kaiser who is in Berlin': I begin to think that is the German paternoster. I left Schwab at Vienna; he was going to sell his camera. He has a great admiration for you, Mr. Jack, but he is filled with regret that he never had an opportunity of doing business for Schlagintwert with that chief of brigands--how did he call himself?"

"Ah Lum. By the way, I forgot to tell you that when we landed at Southampton I found a letter awaiting me from him; it had been forwarded from Shanghai, and got here first owing to our little tour in Japan. It explains how Sowinski was able to reach Sakhalin."

He handed Ah Lum's letter to the Frenchman. Brin read it carefully, and with much gravity. It was as follows:--

From my camp above Tu-men-tzue, First Sunday after Trinity.

Honoured Sir,

A man's manners, says the Sage T'ai Ping-fu, are to be measured by his intentions. If therefore your servant, greatly deploring his ignorance of your honourable language, write through another hand, I pray you will not charge him with want of courtesy; does not the poet say "Respect is the corner-stone of friendship"? Nor will you, honoured sir, be other than indulgent if this letter should seem to have been unduly delayed in the writing. Even as a pearl is not to be found in every oyster, so is it rare among our literati to meet a scholar learned in the barbaric tongues. Such a one I have now discovered in the writer of this letter, Mr. Chang Fu-sing, whose late return from the august University at Oxford was duly reported by my agents at Ma-en-ho-kai. [_Lincoln College: 3rd class Mods., aegrotat Mod. Hist. Chang Fu-sing, B.A. Oxon._] Him I secured by night for the trifling loss of five men. [_My nose abraded; one eye bunged up. Ch. F.-s., B.A.Oxon._] Trifling, for rarity--and the need of the purchaser--are the true measures of value. To the starving man a crust outweighs a viceroy's ransom.

Since the auspicious day when your honour's never-to-be-forgotten assistance enabled our troops to reach the shelter of these mountains, the insolent Russians--may their graves be defiled!--[_Idiom="Ruin seize thee!" Cf. Gray, "The Bard", i. 1. Ch. F.-s., B.A. Oxon._]--have not dared to molest your unworthy servant. For, as the ineffable T'ai Ping-fu says, the bird that has once escaped the net is hard indeed to snare. But, again, as Wang Wei reminds us to our profit in his _Essay on Military Matters_, small reverses, by inspiring caution, may benefit an army, even as small successes may lead through saucy confidence to humiliation. After a little affair otherwise unworthy of your august attention, the two prisoners, Bekovitch and Sowinski, were found to have absented themselves from our custody. As the proverb goes, Only a fool expects courtesy from a hog.

Yet, as Li T'ai-poh harmoniously says:

When stings the Bee, and Pain is keen, then shouldst thou think of Honey; Wise Men seek Good in every Ill, yea, e'en in Loss of Money.

[_The versification is mine. Competitor: Newdigate Verse. Ch. F.-s., B.A. Oxon._] After consulting the works of Tu Fu, I found that, the sunshine of your honour's presence being withdrawn, it was allowable to return to our ancestral usages in matters relating to the treatment of prisoners and criminals. If in this my judgment was in error, I must beg your honour's clemency; for are we not taught by P'an T'ang-shen that in defending a friend from calumny all measures are laudable? It may suffice to say that some days before his escape, the Pole, kneeling on hot chains, was induced to confess his crimes; these were duly inscribed by him in the Russian tongue and signed. Thereafter his partner in guilt, who had shown more obduracy, even resisting our most approved means of persuasion, acknowledged his many wickednesses, among them the preparation of forged papers secretly introduced by a menial into the writing-cabinet of your honour's august father. True is it, as the Sage says, "Fear rather a faithless servant within the gates than a hundred enemies without", or, as the more homely proverb warns us, A worm at the root will bring the noblest oak to earth.