Part 15

The solid old memorial of Dutch and Chinese workmanship stood on the most prominent angle of the hill which thrust itself forward towards the sea. For two and a half centuries it had braved siege and storm and the wasting forces of tropical typhoons, of rain and sun and clinging, insidious tropical vegetation. In a line with it, along the brow of the hill facing the harbour, were the consul's house, Dr. MacKay's bungalow and that of his colleague, and the residences of the customs officers. Just behind MacKay's house were the two mission schools. In a parallel line below the hill and mostly close to the shore were the customs house, then after a considerable interval MacAllister, Munro Co.'s, Reid & Co.'s, Dr. Bergmann's house, and the Mission Hospital, right in the native town. Away at the far end of the town, a mile beyond the other foreign residences on a little eminence facing the river, were the house and godowns of Scott & Co., known as Peeatow. Over each foreign building flew the British flag, save where Dr. Bergmann had hoisted the flag of his fatherland. Out in mid-stream, right in front of MacAllister, Munro Co.'s, the trim, workmanlike _Locust_ floated on the rising tide.

The residence and godowns of Mr. MacAllister's firm had been chosen as the rendezvous. They were in a sheltered position in what was almost a little cove between the hill and the river. There Commander Gardenier had sent a force of ten bluejackets under a petty officer. As Gorman moved his glass from point to point to fix all in his memory a boat pulled away from the _Locust_ carrying another guard of eight men to Peeatow, where a number of foreigners had elected to remain, because of its distance from the ships of war.

The sergeant turned again to the artillery duel. All over the open downs to the north shells were furrowing the hard, dry soil, ricochetting from knoll to knoll, and exploding harmlessly on the grass. The points where the fewest shells fell were the hollows in which the Chinese camps were sheltered. In spite of the hurtling showers of projectiles which at times filled the air, these seemed to be practically immune.

"Howly Moses!" said Gorman to himself, "if that's the kind of shootin' the Frinchies do, the only safe spot in tin square miles is the man they're aimin' at."

Then a great, clumsy blue-grey water buffalo, the draught beast of the island, disturbed in its accustomed pasture grounds by thundering guns and cracking shells, went lumbering across the common a short distance away. Its ugly snout was thrown forward, its great curved horns laid back against its shoulders. A shell plumped into the ground under its belly and, exploding instantly, blew the buffalo into ten thousand fragments.

"Furst casuality!" exclaimed Gorman. "Private Wather Buffalo of the Furst Battalion, Tamsui Blues, General Soon's heavy brigade. Turned into mince meat. Chewed and partly digested. Dead and mostly missin'."

The next instant it was:

"May the divil fly away wid that gunner! Fwhat the blazes does he mane by shootin' there? Does the omadhaun think that he has killed all the haythen Chinese in the island, that now he's thryin' to kill the Christian white people?"

A shell from the _Galissonniere_ had passed in a great arc over his head. Its sound was that of a long-drawn whine mingled with the rush of a sudden gust of wind. It exploded between the Girls' School and Dr. MacKay's house.

"If it's the Chinese he's tryin' to hit, I wud call that a mortial bad shot. I'll wait to see if that wan was only an accident, or if they're goin' to presint us wid anny more."

He did not wait long. Another rush and whine and a shell passed a little to his left, almost on a level with the spot where he stood and, exploding on the common just back of Thomson's bungalow, threw a cloud of earth high in the air.

That was enough. The red flag fluttered up to the top of the tall signal staff, from which it did not come down for more than twelve hours.

A moment later the consul came out of his house, accompanied by his wife and little daughter and a couple of native servants, to make their perilous way to the rendezvous. He glanced up at the danger signal:

"Are they at it already, sergeant?

"They are, sir; the worse luck to thim. Make the best time you can, sir, an' march in open order."

"Thank you, sergeant. But don't you stay up there to be hit. You can't be of any more service now. Get to cover somewhere. You might be needed at the hospital."

"Very good, sir."

The consul's little group strung out along the narrow road following the brow of the hill past the two mission houses. As they came to Dr. MacKay's they saw the missionary pacing to and fro on his verandah. The consul called to him:

"Not very safe there, Dr. MacKay. I think you

had better do as the rest are doing, bring your family down into the shelter below the hill."

The missionary stopped his rapid, nervous pacing backward and forward, lifted his hat in salute, and replied:

"Thank you, Mr. Beauchamp. I have all the protection I need: 'Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day.'"

As they spoke a projectile drove deep into the ground of the garden between them, but did not explode. Undisturbed, the missionary resumed his walking up and down, while the consul hurried after his family. At their gate Mr. and Mrs. Thomson, accompanied by Dr. Sinclair, joined them.

"Run for it! Run!" Beauchamp shouted as the now familiar rush and moan of a shell was heard. The nimblest of them had hardly quickened their pace when it hit the very edge of the almost perpendicular cliff a few yards behind them, ricochetted at an angle to its original course, and plunged into the harbour. Without more ceremony they did run, stringing out until separated by wide intervals, turned sharply down the face of the hill by a narrow path and stone steps which led under some spreading banians, and in a few minutes were at the door of the rendezvous. The shells screamed through the air overhead, skipped along on the hard earth of the hills, or splashed into the river below.

"Wasn't that fun, daddy? You should have been able just to see you and mother run. It was better than a show."

The consul's little daughter was dancing and clapping her hands with delight.

"Not much fun that I could see, Constance," replied her father grimly. "I prefer some other kind of a show."

"Oh, I like this best, father. And it would have been ever so much more fun if Mr. De Vaux had been with us. Wouldn't it have been great to see him run, hear him puff, and say, 'Bless my soul'?"

"That will do, Constance. It wouldn't have been very great if one of us had got blown up by a shell."

"But, daddy, we had Dr. Sinclair with us. He would have fixed us up."

"Sublime faith! By Jove! doctor, you have an admirer here who will not go back on you."

Sinclair laughed, slipped his arm around the little maid as she pressed to his side, ran his fingers through the heavy, dark-brown curls, smiled into those frank child eyes which looked so straight into his, and passed on to the hospital to join Drs. Black and Bergmann.

Meanwhile, Sergeant Gorman, coming from the consulate towards the town, had stopped to ask Dr. MacKay if there was any service he could render.

"From the way the Frenchmen are shootin', I do not expect that we'll have manny cases in the hospital, barrin' it may be some of ourselves, if there's anny of us left to patch the rest together. So I moight as well be doin' an odd job for you, if there's annything that would be of service to you."

"Nothing that I know of just now, sergeant! Nothing! We have made all the preparations we could think of. We are in the hands of God. But your offer is itself a service. I thank you."

A shell drove into the ground in a plantation of young banian trees just to the west of the house. Its explosion threw up a miniature volcanic eruption of gravel.

"Bedad, Dr. MacKay, I have been safer in manny a battlefield than we are at this very minute."

"'The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strong rock, in Him will I trust.'"

"Thin, sir, you have better fortifications around you than a great manny of us have."

A petty officer from the _Locust_ came up the garden walk, saluted, and said:

"Are you Dr. MacKay, sir?"

"I am."

"Commander Gardenier sent me to present his compliments, and to invite you to bring your family and your valuables and come on board the _Locust_. He says that you are in great danger here and that no place on shore is safe. A boat is waiting at the jetty, sir."

His words were interrupted by the weird moan of a shell, followed by an ear-splitting crack. The air was full of smoke and dust and flying fragments of metal and stone. It had struck a big boulder directly in front of the house, on the edge of the narrow road at the foot of the garden.

As they recovered from the shock, MacKay was speaking as quietly as if nothing had happened:

"Give Commander Gardenier my thanks. Tell him that I am deeply indebted to him for his thoughtfulness. Say to him that I have no valuables save these." He swept his arm around the semi-circle of native converts, preachers, students, and simple believers. "He could not accommodate all these. It is not his duty. They are subjects of China. But these are my valuables, my children in the Lord. Since I cannot take them with me, I shall stay with them."

"I shall tell him, sir."

The sailor saluted and withdrew.

When Sergeant Gorman told Sinclair of it at the hospital he said:

"I was born a Catholic, an' I'll die a Catholic. But whin I see that man up there on the hill an' thin think of that college in Skibbereen, an' the priests that have me little farm, that isn't mine neither, at Sleeahtballymackcurraghalicky, I'll tell ye it isn't the memory of the priests that kapes me a Catholic. It is because I am an Irishman an' I hate the name of a turncoat."

*XXV*

*THE BALL PROCEEDS*

"This is a sudden and unceremonious inroad of uninvited guests, Mr. MacAllister," said the consul as he entered. "Awfully sorry to crowd you so."

"There's no necessity for apologies, Mr. Beauchamp. We are only too glad to share with all any shelter or safety our situation may afford. Will you not stay and be as comfortable as the circumstances will allow?"

"Thanks, very much. I cannot stay just now. I see that you have every one from the hill except MacKay and his family and those who are at the hospital. But there are others who have taken refuge at Scott & Co.'s bungalow. I want to look in at the hospital, and then go on to Peeatow. I shall leave this party in your care and that of Boville. If it gets too hot here, signal Gardenier, and he will take you all on board. I shall be back in an hour."

He was off, following the narrow, crooked, rough-paved Chinese street, his quick, nervous step carrying him rapidly on his tour of inspection.

Mr. MacAllister went up to the living-rooms where the ladies were with De Vaux, Thomson the missionary, Clark the tea-buyer, Boville, Carteret, and practically the whole customs staff. The house never ceased shaking with the continual discharge of the cannon. Ever and anon the sharp splitting crash of a bursting shell, some nearer, some farther away, gave the nervous a start. Less frequently could be heard, even within the house, the mingled whine and whirr of a passing projectile.

Not one of the ladies showed a sign of fear. Mrs. Beauchamp was quiet and self-controlled. Perhaps there was a trace of anxiety as her eye followed the light, fawn-like movements of Constance, or when she thought of her husband out trying to assure himself of the safety of others. But there was no fear. Mrs. MacAllister was at her best. Whatever her faults might be, timidity was not one of them. She belonged to a war-like people. Her colour was high Her dark eyes shone with a strange fire. She looked a score of years younger than she was. Her husband was struck by the change in her. He found an opportunity to say:

"You look beautiful to-day, Flora."

"I am thinking of you, Hector. If you have to go out into danger, I want to go with you. Now I know why Allister would be a soldier. And I know what Jessie would mean when she says she wishes she wass a man. I nefer knew before."

She was deeply moved. The instinct of a fighting race had suddenly come to life with the sound of battle and the accent of her childhood's speech was back upon her tongue.

She looked around for her daughter. Miss MacAllister was standing near a window talking to Boville. She was drawn up to her full height, dwarfing the rotund commissioner of customs. Her cheeks were burning. Her eyes had an almost unnatural light. Her bosom was heaving with the short, quick breath of one in struggle. Perhaps for the first time in her life Mrs. MacAllister understood her daughter's feelings. But she did not understand how much their interview of the day before had added to their intensity.

"Mr. Boville, I really cannot stay in here and not be able to see what is going on. I simply cannot. Let us go out on the verandah."

"Very well, Miss MacAllister. I do not know that it is any more dangerous there. I shall be glad to go with you."

"So shall I!" exclaimed Mrs. Thomson, whose natural vivacity had likewise been quickened by the excitement of the occasion. "I must go out. If there's any danger, let's take it in the open, and not shut up here like rats in a hole."

Her husband made a slow and feeble protest. But, with a half-defiant "You may hide in here if you want to," she ran out where she could get a view. Meanwhile, Constance Beauchamp danced in and out, bringing reports of what was to be seen to her mother, who remained sedately inside.

A heavy projectile splashed in the river midway between the company's jetty and the _Locust_. Another dropped on a cargo boat lying at the jetty, smashing through its bottom. The boat immediately filled and sank. A third drove into the soft mud of the shore close by and exploded, bespattering the whole vicinity with slime. There was a moan and rush nearer still, a shrill human shriek, a splitting crash, and a small native house spouted up a cloud of dust and splinters and fragments of sun-dried brick. Then it collapsed in a little heap of debris. In that heap were the bodies of an old Chinese peasant and his wife, and a little child. The great guns of the French Republic's battleships had claimed some notable victims.

At the first sound of the shell Miss MacAllister and Mrs. Thomson were unceremoniously rushed into the house by Boville and De Vaux. The latter showed a presence of mind and courage in time of danger of which his excitability on ordinary occasions had given little promise. The shower of fragments rattled harmlessly on the roof and walls.

For a few minutes they appeared to be safe. But they did not have a long respite. There was a terrific crash and rending. The house shook as if in the grip of an earthquake. A great, gaping hole appeared in the back corner of the room on a level with the floor.

"Out on the verandah! Quick!" yelled Boville.

"Don't stop there! Bless my soul! To the far end!" echoed De Vaux.

With one exception all ran to the end of the verandah farthest from where they expected the explosion to take place. For a moment or two there was dead silence as hearts stood still in expectancy of the death-dealing shock. Then a quick step was heard running up the stairs and into the room they had left. The next instant Sinclair stepped out on the verandah.

"I hope no one was hurt," he said. "There is no immediate danger now. It's a dead one."

A heavy shell from the _Triomphante_ had ricochetted from the hill behind, struck the back of the house just above the level of the floor of the room in which the refugees were, passed through the wall and floor, and landed amid the boxes of tea piled in the lower story. Dr. Sinclair was just entering the storeroom on the ground floor at that moment, and soon satisfied himself that it could do no more harm.

His assurance was received with a chorus of grateful exclamations. In the midst of them Mrs. MacAllister turned to Carteret and said:

"I am very glad to see, Mr. Carteret, that you are perfectly safe."

She had not failed to notice that he had been the first to reach a place of safety, and had ensconced himself in the corner farthest from the expected danger. She had got a glimpse of the man's character. She could forgive drunkenness and gambling, and some other things which need not be mentioned. These were the privileges of the nobility. But cowardice! She despised that. Her voice was icily cold when she said:

"I am very glad to see, Mr. Carteret, that you are perfectly safe."

Carteret's pale face, paler than usual, flushed. But with ready effrontery he carried himself through:

"Thank you, Mrs. MacAllister; I am very glad to see that every one is perfectly safe."

At that moment Sinclair's voice was heard saying:

"What's the matter in here? Was any one hurt?"

He stepped into the room again, followed by all the rest. From a dark corner came broken ejaculations, mingled with the names of the deity:

"Oh, God! Oh, God! ... Lord! ... Lord! ... Oh, God, have mercy on my soul!"

Peering through the semi-darkness after the glare of the bright sunshine outside, they discovered Clark on his hands and knees under a heavy teak table.

"Hallo, Clark!" exclaimed Sinclair. "What are you doing there? Are you hurt?"

"Oh, God! ... No! ... We'll all be killed.... Lord! ... Lord! ... The shell! ... Oh, God! Have mercy on my soul!"

"Lord bless my soul!" exclaimed De Vaux in his high-pitched voice. "Is the man a coward?"

"Lord have mercy on my soul!" prayed Clark, under the table.

"My God! ... This is disgraceful," stuttered De Vaux. "I never heard of the like.... Bless my soul!"

"Oh, God! ... Have mercy on my soul!" echoed Clark.

"Sounds like a Free Methodist prayer-meeting!" remarked Sinclair, with a laugh, in which the rest joined.

"Mother, doesn't Mr. Clark get under the table and whine just like Carlo when father whipped him for keeping company with those nasty Chinese dogs?"

"Hush, Constance! Don't you say another word."

Sinclair reached under the table and began to pull Clark out:

"Come along, Clark! The Lord's going to give you another chance with that soul of yours. Perhaps you will have it in better shape by the time you get the next call."

When a few minutes later a boat from the _Locust_ arrived to take all to the gunboat for greater safety, Clark found his legs with amazing expedition. Indeed, he would have been the first person in the boat if it had not been that Lieutenant Lanyon, who was in command, caught him by the collar and jerked him back on the jetty with the warning:

"Ladies first, sir, or by my faith you don't go at all."

Meanwhile on the exposed hill-top MacKay, his wife and children, and his Chinese converts, who had no souls, remained calm and unmoved amidst the ceaseless whirr and whine of the flying projectiles and the crash of bursting shells.

*XXVI*

*A GAME OF BALL*

During the afternoon the French fire slackened. By four o'clock it had died away to scattering shots. The party of refugees had spent most of the forenoon on board the _Locust_, had lunched at Peeatow, and now were back at their morning rendezvous. Some of the men had remained at Peeatow. Clark, the hero of the teak table incident, was not one of them. Evidently believing that a special divinity had been assigned to watch over the ladies, he kept very close to them, so that he might share in that divinity's protection.

Sinclair had spent the day at the hospital, though there was not much to do there. The all-day bombardment had wounded less than a score of Chinamen. But when he visited the rendezvous in the morning he noticed that Miss MacAllister seemed to avoid him. He was not the man to push himself in where he was not wanted, and so stayed away. But they met in the late afternoon. It was she who contrived it.

"Where is Miss MacAllister?" said Mrs. Beauchamp to that young lady's mother. "I have not seen her for some time."

"I really do not know. I had not missed her. But now that you mention it, I have not seen her since we came back. She may be in her room."

"Constance, would you go to Miss MacAllister's room and see if she is there?"

"Oh, no, mother, she is not in her room! I know. I heard her dare Mr. Carteret to have a game of tennis. She said that she would get Dr. Sinclair, too. She has gone away up to our place to play tennis."

"To play tennis!" both ladies exclaimed in horror.

"Yes," replied Constance. "Mr. Carteret did not want to go one bit. He was scared. I know. He tried to make all sorts of excuses. It was because he was so scared. I know. He looked just as frightened as he could look. But Miss MacAllister made him go. Isn't she dandy?"

"Constance, quick, run and ask your father to come here!"

When the consul heard what his wife had to tell, he uttered one brief, emphatic word, not loud but deep, grabbed his hat, and ran down the stairs. Breathlessly climbing the steep hill behind, he had just turned the corner of the customs compound when he heard the moan of a shell coming from the direction of the _Vipere_, which had moved from her former position and was lying well within the mouth of the river. It exploded in the air between the two mission bungalows. A fragment cut its way clean through the cottage roof of Thomson's bungalow, going in at one side and coming out at the other, leaving a great gaping hole in the tiles.

"By Jove!" said the consul to himself, "if that had been a percussion, or if the Frenchman had given it one second longer, Thomson would have been minus a house."

He caught a glimpse of swiftly-moving white figures on his lawn and quickened his pace. He called a cheery greeting to MacKay as he passed and ran down into the little hollow between the missionary's house and his own. Just then he heard Sinclair's strong voice calling:

"Fifteen--love! ... Thirty--love! ... Forty--love! ... Game!"

"What an expert! Just look at the cool, confident way he serves those balls. And we might as well try to stop a French shell with our rackets as return his service. Mr. Carteret, it's your service. Now play up or he'll win this set."

At that moment the consul ran through the gate in the hedge into the midst of the players:

"What the deuce is the meaning of this? Miss MacAllister? Dr. Sinclair?"

"Oh, Mr. Beauchamp, I'm so glad you have come! We needed another player to complete a doubles. Dr. Sinclair has been playing singles against Mr. Carteret and me. Won't you join in? There's a gentleman's racket on the settee right before you."

"Miss MacAllister, this is no time for fooling. I want to know what is the meaning of this. Carteret, you are a resident of the East and know what it means to disobey the orders of a consul. Why are you here and not at the rendezvous?"

"Ask the young lady," replied Carteret, with a shrug of his shoulders and a curl of his lip.

"Thanks, Adam! Since the blame is to be thrown back on Eve, she'll reply. I got tired of being stewed up in the house with men who crawled under the table whenever there was a hint of danger. So I came up here. Besides, I do not believe that it is nearly so dangerous here as there. Not a shell has come near us since we came, and I have not seen where one has fallen about here all day. And, if they did start to shoot at us, Dr. Sinclair keeps us jumping about so lively after his balls that the Frenchmen could never hit us."

It took all Beauchamp's self-control to maintain the gravity of his countenance. But he managed it somehow, and answered as sternly as he could: