"I ALSO DROPPED IN THE BLUE SEA BEHIND HIM." See page 121.

In The Yellow Sea

HENRY FRITH

LONDON
HENRY FROWDE,
HODDER & STOUGHTON

PREFACE

Perhaps a few words of explanation as regards this volume may be permitted. The following extract from a letter, from a relative who addresses me as "Uncle Harry," will suffice at first. His letter is dated "Shanghai, November 1897":—

"Here are all the papers, with manuscript. Some of the latter is translated by a friend, and some is newspaper work. But I daresay you will be able to work up the matter. Do it as you like best; but don't give me away, please. You will find some additional information in Vladmir's work, and in the Mail, etc. etc. But I am only sending you my experiences and adventures. Call them what you like.

"JULIUS."

Here then is the narrative, in which the writer does not spare himself. He certainly has had adventures by land and sea, between China and Japan—"'twixt Jack and Jap"—during the late war. I have used his papers and extracts in the compilation of the story; with gleanings from Heroic Japan and newspapers, which I have examined, with history, for my own benefit, and to verify my "nephew's" account of his adventures during that stirring time in the Far East.

HENRY FRITH.

UPPER TOOTING, S.W.,
March 1898.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

[ I ALSO DROPPED IN THE BLUE SEA BEHIND HIM] ([see p. 121]) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece

[ "THE RAIN'S A-COMIN' THICK" ]

[ WE PROCEEDED TO THE CONSULATE ]

[ I SAW THE UNLUCKY FÊNG SHUI PLUNGE DOWN BY THE STERN SUDDENLY ]

[ ONE CHINESE VESSEL WAS MOST FEARFULLY PUNISHED ]

[ THEY LAUGHED AT THE STONES I THREW AT THEM ]

[ THE CHINESE WERE LYING ANYHOW ]

[ THE DEED WAS DONE! TORPEDO-BOAT NO. 6 SPED AWAY ]

IN THE YELLOW SEA

CHAPTER I

A DISAPPOINTMENT—I ESCAPE MY FORETOLD
DESTINY—THE OSPREY—THE STORM

"There, that settles the matter," said my stepfather irritably. "The lad's no good for the navy!"

"Why not?" asked my mother, pausing in the act of pouring out the breakfast tea for me,—my parents preferred coffee.

"Because they say his sight is defective—that's all," replied my stepfather. "That's a pretty ending to his career!"

Mr. Bentham was a persistent grumbler. I had already remarked that trait in his disposition, and it annoyed me.

"I am quite sure his eyes are all right," said mother.

"Then perhaps you'll kindly tell the Admiralty so," said my stepfather ("Daddy," I called him). "There's the medical decision. He's been plucked on sight."

"And I am certain there's nothing the matter," said my mother. "I will take him to Mr. Jones, an old friend of his. You will find he is perfectly sound."

"My dear Emily, what is the use of discussing the matter? Julius is deficient. There's the letter, read it for yourself. It's a great nuisance. I suppose he'd better go to Granding and Smith's now. Granding will take him"—

"Granding and Smith's!" I exclaimed suddenly. "To the warehouse in St. Paul's? Oh, why? I can't go into a shop."

Hitherto I had been silent, but when this terrible fate was presented to me I spoke out. The very idea of a warehouse was abhorrent to me.

"My dear Julius, you must learn obedience. We have been educating you for the Royal Navy, you have failed, and"—

"For no fault of his own," interrupted mother quickly.

"My dear, did I say it was for any fault of his? I wish you would not introduce irrelevant remarks. He has failed to satisfy the examiners in eyesight, so"—

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed mother firmly.

My stepfather made no reply. He silently folded the report in its official folds, finished his coffee,—still in silence,—rose quietly, and deliberately left the room.

"Where are you going, Mark?" asked my mother anxiously.

"To my study, until you have settled the question with the Admiralty," he answered satirically, as he closed the door.

We were silent for a while. At length I said timidly—

"Mother, must I go to Granding's? I hate it! Why can't I go to sea?"

"We shall manage something, I daresay, dear," she replied. "I am afraid your father is vexed about this. He was anxious for you to succeed, and he is disappointed."

"But, mother, I can't help it if my eyes are bad. They don't look weak. Shall I go to old Jones, the oculist?"

"We will go by and by; meantime, let me see your father. I am sure Granding's warehouse will not suit you. The confinement will be most trying to your disposition. There may be some mistake about your eyesight; though I fear, even if so, it cannot be amended. Wait here until I return. Ring the bell, and tell Ellen to clear the breakfast things away, dear."

My loving mother left the breakfast-room, and I seated myself at the window to await her return. I was very much upset,—savage, in fact,—and considered that the doctors had spun me on purpose. My eyes were perfectly sound, I knew, at least I thought I knew, and it was "favouritism." I had heard of such a thing; and the medical board were, in my angry estimation, stupid! There was nothing the matter!

When my mother returned to the breakfast-room she found me silent and cross. The idea of giving up all my wishes for the navy, just because a doctor chose to say my eyes were not sound, was absurd! But even then I could not help myself; and, however ridiculous I fancied the decision to be, I was compelled to accept it. I had failed! The medical gentlemen—one, rather—had decided against me. I was most indignant, and inclined to be sulky, when mother had explained all this to me. For some days I was greatly upset, and went about "like a bear with a sore head."

Perhaps I had better not dwell upon that period during which, I now must confess, I behaved badly. My parents were most kind and indulgent. They perceived my disappointment, and made allowances for me in all ways, including pocket-money. They did not worry me, but let me find my level while openly discussing the question of my prospects.

During these weeks I continued my boating and sailing trips. I was well known on the beach; the sailors, with a tender regard for me and my pocket,—which they did not wish to see either too heavy or too light,—indulged me to the top of my bent; and I believe had I suggested a voyage to France, or the Channel Isles, old Murry and his son Tim would have carried me off in their boat, which I called a "yacht" when describing her.

The Osprey was a tidy little "ship," and many a splendid sail we had. I had already learned a good deal respecting ships and shipping, could handle a boat, and steer fairly well. Thus weeks passed. I grew a tall lad; my face was browned by sun and sea, and I quite forgot business,—had even been reconciled to my disappointment as regards the navy, and was repairing my eyesight. Alas! I was just too old for the service then, and my stepfather began to make some arrangements for my future.

I heard the names of Granding and Smith of St. Paul's mentioned, and shuddered. A counting-house and confinement in place of liberty and fresh air! What had I done to deserve this prison fate? It was not my fault that my eyes had been weak; and even mother had thought that "business" was not suited to me. But the blow fell!

The decision had evidently been made. My fate was fixed. I began to be restless, but made no inquiry, and kept away from home as much as possible. But one day, late in summer, the hammer fell upon my "lot"—I was knocked down to the drapers!

Mother came in and told me my fate. "Daddy" had determined it! It was Granding and Smith, or a local bank,—I was generously permitted to take my choice.

Then I arose in wrath, and made some unkind, not to say rude, remarks concerning my stepfather and Granding and Smith. Naval surgeons and examiners also "caught it," and, indeed, my expressions pained my fond mother deeply. Till I had apologised for my violence she declined any assistance on my behalf in future.

Of course, I said I was "sorry," and kissed her penitently. She perceived my repentance was sincere, and forgave me.

"Run away now, Julius, there's a good boy. Take a boat, and sail about until this ill-feeling has subsided. Your father only means it for your good, remember that."

"Yes, I daresay he means all right, mother, but that does me no good! I want to go to sea—I mean in the navy—and I shall do no good any other way, I tell you plainly!"

"My dear boy, that is just nonsense! You have plenty of ability, and will, in time, be very glad to reflect that you were induced to go into business. Business is really the best career, your father says."

"You said it wouldn't suit me, and I know it wouldn't!"

"My dear Julius, your father thinks it best for you."

"He isn't my father, and I won't go to Granding. There!"

With this defiance I rushed from the room, took my straw hat, and hurried away into the bright warm sunlight in search of the sea.

I had not far to travel. We lived then within two miles of the Channel, and close to a tiny station, at which a few branch trains stopped during the day. Perceiving that one of these tiny trains was approaching, I hastened on and caught it. In five minutes afterwards I was crunching the shingle, near the boats, on the beach. Several boatmen accosted me; I knew them well. They humoured me,—I liked them.

"Mornin', sir! Fine mornin' for a sail," said Murry, a queer, old, weather-beaten salt, who had served in the merchant marine. "Goin' out, sir?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied shortly. "How's the tide?"

"Young gentleman's arskin' for the tide, Tim," remarked another salted fellow. "As if he wasn't a sailor now!"

"I am no sailor," I replied savagely. "I'm plucked!"

"Plucked! What d'ye mean? Thrown overboard? Who's been pullin' your leg, sir?"

"It's true. My eyes are bad, the doctor says," I muttered. "He's an ass."

"Your eyes bad? Well, that beats! Why, I wish I'd one o' them at your age! It's a mistake, whoever said it, I say that much."

"Well, anyway, I'm not to be a sailor—not in the navy, anyhow. Perhaps never at all. But let's shut it up. Where's the boat?"

"Yonder she swims," said Murry. "Ye can go where ye like to-day, if you're not venturesome too much."

"Why, do you expect a storm?" I asked, looking at the blue above.

"Well, I wouldn't say it mightn't squall a bit. There's thun'er about too. Better take a hand with ye."

"Better take a second hand," added Tim; "them mare's tails is subspicious. How far d'ye think o' goin'?"

"Round Ratcham Head, and away to Greystones. I suppose we can fetch that?"

"Ay, ay; tide's makin', and we can come back with a flowin' sheet agin' it, proper. Here's my lad, Tim; he can go for the prog. Suppose you'll want somethin'?"

"Of course. Here's the money. Get anything you like, and some beer. Look slippy, Tim. Come back as soon as you can."

Tim touched his cap, took the money, and set off rapidly in the direction of the main street—the only one—of Beachmouth, which was then a small, almost unknown, watering-place. Now it is growing rapidly. Our house and grounds have already been purchased for building purposes, and in the few years which have elapsed since my disappointment the changes have been many and various.

I waited with impatience for Tim's return. The sea was calm. The breeze, which was off-shore, was gentle from the north-west, westing, and the sky was deep blue, with a haze hanging about, indicative of heat in the future hours. The distant vessels—not steamers—were lazily dipping in the offing, not making much way, but still progressing, so we could hope for a breeze outside.

The dirty, chalky cliff sheltered us, and accentuated the rays of the sun, which, reflected from the water, burned and blistered us that summer more than usual, but as I was so much on the sea perhaps I felt it more then. At anyrate, that August day I felt the heat greatly, and became impatient for Tim's return with the "grub," so that we might get away, and sail down Channel, away into the west perhaps.

After what seemed an hour, but was really twenty minutes, we sighted Tim carrying a parcel and a jar, three tumblers being hung around his neck, and his jacket pockets bulging. One glance satisfied me, and I called to Murry to come along.

"I'm a-comin'! I'm a-comin'! We'm goin' alongside in Bill's skiff, ye know. The boat's all ready—ballast and all. Don't ye worrit yourself, Mister Jule; Tim's comin' on, hand over hand."

Tim was certainly very warm when he stepped into the small boat, and when he was seated old Murry sculled us over to the Osprey, a small "yacht," if one may say so—a fore and aft sailing-boat, boasting a little recess which was covered by a hatch, and called the cabin. There was room for ten or twelve people, and she could accommodate more. She carried the usual fore and aft sails, with a mizzen, and sailed very fast. In fact, she was a rather smart boat, and easily handled, being stiff and strong, with pretty lines; she looked smaller than she really was because of her fine shape and slender appearance.

The Osprey could stand rough weather, as I well knew, and when we hauled up the mainsail, and set the jib and foresail, I felt happy for the first time that day.

"Here's the change," said Tim, handing me a small sum, in which sixpence shone proudly in a nest of coppers.

"Pouch it, Tim, please. Now, Murry, what's the course, eh?"

"Well, I should say, keep her close hauled myself. Keep your luff, sir, that's what it is, and then you'll have all your run back. But as you like."

"I want to make Greystones, though," I said, as I glanced ahead.

"Well, ye can tack in. Ye see, it's this way: the tide's agin' ye, and when ye weather the Ratcham ye'll want all the luff ye can find to fetch Greystones this wind, anyway—and it's a squally bit down that gully."

"Yes, that's true; but we can fetch in. So you think I'm a sailor, Murry?" I continued, referring to our previous talk.

"That ye be," he said. "Eyes, indeed! as if ye couldn't see like a cat. Why, I've see ye make out the rig of a coaster when Tim couldn't, and he's been at sea since afore you come."

"How old is Tim?" I asked, with my despised eyes watching ahead.

"Why, about your age, I should say. Fifteen, ain't it?" he shouted to his son.

"Fifteen what?" called back the lad, from forward behind the jib.

"Years, ye donkey-foal!" replied his father. "Your age, I says."

"You oughter know, dad! But I believe I'm thereabouts. What then—what of it?"

"Nothin'—don't you think it," was the reply. "Mind you keep your eyes to windward, seems a change like."

"I've been thinking o' that cloud yonder, dad; seems like to spread. What d'ye think o' standin' in a bit?"

"Nonsense!" I exclaimed sharply. "We can't weather the point if we keep in. As it is the tide seems sucking us into the cliffs."

"There's no call for hurry," said Murry. "But when ye can lay a point inside—well, half a point—do it. The sky's getting kind o' hazy."

We had run well down the coast, slipping over the small waves, and darting merrily along. The boat was sailing well up in the wind, close hauled; and every now and then, with all my care, I could not prevent the sail shaking a bit. This back lift required me to keep away farther out, and then we found the wind coming more abeam, and fresher at times. Again it died away, and luffed up once more.

All this time the sun was blazing hot, like a furnace heat in its effects. Even the wind was warm, and appeared as if from a stove-pipe. It was nearly midday, and the heat was tremendous. So I suggested lunch.

"Suppose we stand out a while, Murry, and pipe to dinner."

"Ay, ay," he replied, with a grin at my assumption of phrase. "It's eight bells, ain't it? Then make it so!"

"We don't want any 'observations,' Murry, I think," said I, smiling.

"No, sir; I ain't going to offer any except 'Hands, splice the mainbrace!'"

Tim laughed, and handed out the beer jar, and a quantity of slices of beef and bacon, some bread and condiments, pickled onions in a bottle, and a huge piece of strong cheese. Altogether it was a splendid dinner, and we fell to, lying gently over to the wind, and enjoyed the fare, the "ship" almost steering herself.

"Well, that's good catering, Tim. I think you are a splendid steward for a small craft," I said, after an interval, during which our attentions had been directed to the thwarts, on which our food was spread. "Now I think we may clear up, and keep our course."

"The weather don't seem so willing to clear up, though," said Murry. "That big, black cloud is sailing up hand over fist. That's a thun'er squall, sir, and we'd better reef the mainsail."

"For a summer squall like that!" I exclaimed. "Why, we shall be under shelter of the cliff before it comes up; and its coming off shore, you see, not on shore."

"Exactly," replied Murry, rising. "Bear a hand, Tim, my lad. Get in a couple of reefs. Lower the foresail afore ye come aft."

"Oh, come, Murry! I believe you're frightened. Why, it's only a puff off shore, anyway."

"That's just it, sir. Tie them reefs, Tim, smart. The squall will catch us out here unless ye luff up, Mister Jule."

"I am luffing up all I can," I replied. "The beastly ship won't stand up to it, somehow! What's the matter?"

"It's the thun'er in the air does it. Ye see the breeze is backin' and fillin'. Give me the tiller, and go ye forward with Tim. Now, just be easy."

Murry did not often interfere with my sailing, and, therefore, I made no further objection to vacate the post of honour. He loosed the sheet, and held it in his left hand while steering the boat. Ever and anon he cast a glance above the cliff in the direction of which we were running obliquely to save all possible wind, but we did not make so much headway, as we wished to reach beneath the point of Ratcham Head for shelter.

"There she comes," cried Tim. "What a black 'un! Whiz! that's lightnin', sure."

"Yes, certainly. We're in for it, I think," I replied.

"Father don't like it, I can see. He's allus skeered in a big storm. Mother, she was struck that-a-way," he whispered.

"How dreadful! In a boat you mean?"

"In this very boat it was. They was out lookin' after nets. Father he was stoopin' forrad, a'most in the water, and mother she was steerin', when smack come the lightnin' and kill her stone dead, settin' up like a statoo, she was; and when father shouted at her to keep up, she set, and set, until he went on savage, and then found her struck. There it is again!"

It was! Behind the cliff, which showed up whiter than ever, an immense bank of cloud was extended as far as we could see landwards, but only occupying a portion of the sky on both sides. To east, west, and south the horizon was clear, but great hanging tendrils were seeking to grip the blue below, and were curling up and retreating or advancing by turns; but apparently also always gaining ground, though the movement of the mass was imperceptible to us. Nevertheless, the blackness increased, and at length the rumbling of the thunder became distinctly audible.

The wind rose, and came rushing across the waters, taking up the little waves in spin-drift, and indicating a bad quarter of an hour for any craft caught unprepared. The boat's head was necessarily put more west, and so, with the wind more on the beam, the rate of sailing increased. The clouds came up steadily, the wind began to bluster suddenly, and to roughen the edges of the waves more and more.

The old fisherman hauled on the sheet, and sat over more to the weather side. He made no remark for a few minutes, then he cried—

"Get in under the hatch there, forward, and haul a tarpaulin over ye. The rain's a-comin' thick. Hear that!"

"THE RAIN'S A-COMIN' THICK"

A tremendous burst of thunder came crashing upon our bowed heads as it seemed. Tim routed out a tarpaulin, and he and I rolled each other in it. It was a covering for the sails, which the old man used at times much to his friends' amusement. However, on this occasion we did not complain, for the rain, and, I fancied, even hail, came down with fearful force, and ran out of the lee scuppers, though with difficulty it escaped.

Notwithstanding all our protection we were getting wet. The wind rose, the thunder roared, the lightning flashed past us, the little yacht bounded and dipped. At length a fearful burst of flame struck us, and we actually screamed in terror.

Then the next moment the wind caught the sail, and flapped it with a terrible noise which mingled with the thunder. The boat careened over, righted, and flew before the wind like a frightened gull. I felt Tim rise, and go astern; I heard a cry of pain and anguish. Then I subsided upon the seething deck blinded and helpless!

CHAPTER II

A TERRIBLE POSITION—A PROPHETIC VISION—SINKING!

When I had rubbed my eyes, and began to take in the surroundings, I felt drenched by the rain and sea. My hands were sticky, and cold and damp. My clothes clung to my limbs, which were stiff under me. My straw hat, with the ribbon of which I had been so proud—a yacht-club ribbon—was sopped, out of shape, and off-colour like my drenched face. The squall was still passing, but the thunder had ceased.

The sea was very lively, and the wind boisterous. We were running close-hauled and fast, dipping and slapping; the mainsail stretched stiffly over the boat, reefed still, and the jib was as taut as a board. Daddy, I thought, was steering splendidly in such a sea, but I at once perceived that the cliffs had sunk deep into the water behind us, and that the line of the horizon was continually broken with the rolling waves. A change, indeed, and in a few moments! A great change!

I sat up, feeling a peculiar sensation of dizziness, and a breathlessness, a desire to gasp for breath—a taste, moreover, of something unpleasant, almost sulphurous, but not of sulphur. Something had happened! I looked around me; astern I saw Tim gripping the sheet in one hand, the tiller in the other, and dragging at the sail, half in the boat, half out.

"What's the matter, Tim? Is the skipper asleep?"

I often called Murry the "skipper" for fun, as he called me his "young gentleman," meaning midshipman.

Tim made no reply. Perhaps my voice had not reached him, so I shouted at him—

"Tim, ahoy! Whither bound? What ship's this, anyhow?"

"The Dead-ship," replied the young sailor. "Come aft, if ye can, and bear a hand. I can't manage the sail and steer this way."

Feeling alarmed, I scrambled up, and in an instant I saw that some fearful accident had occurred. The mainsail was lying half in and half out of the boat, dipping and lashing the waves, and bringing the Osprey down by the quarter and stern, deeply. No wonder I felt drenched, no wonder the boat was uneasy; and Tim had need of all his nerve and skill to keep his course.

I clambered astern and hauled in the sail which had come down full, with the gaff, upon the stern-sheets, and nearly swamped us. I recollected the cry I had heard. What had happened?

My cheerfulness was quenched in a second. I was face to face with death for the first time! I could not credit it!

Yet I knew it I could see nothing but the sail, the blackened spar, the tangled ropes, the mainsheet still gripped in Tim's hand, held, too, I fancied, by another hand—the hand of his dead father!

This impression suddenly seized me, and the idea burned into my brain like a dart—a hot nerve-thrill. Murry had been struck by that fearful flash, and I must have been laid out senseless. The peculiar feeling and sensation caused by the "electric fluid" I still remember, and do not wish to experience them again.

I felt afraid as I seated myself silently and with carefulness beside Tim. I questioned him with a look; he replied with a nod. Neither of us made an attempt to speak. He kept the boat's head close to the wind as possible, but we drifted out farther and farther all the time. We had no grapnel, and had we shipped an anchor we had not line to hold the boat there. All Tim could do was to keep up until a fishing-smack or some other craft could assist us.

Meantime we hauled the sail in board, and then, having lashed the tiller, we managed to roll it up and get it away from the body, which lay in the small, sunk, stern-sheets, still half supported. Murry was dead! My heart thumped in my throat, and a horrible feeling of hysteria attacked me. I suddenly burst out crying, and then sniggered in shame amid sobs.

"That's how mother was took," said Tim at length. "Can't we carry him in to the cabin place, think ye?"

I nodded assent. With great difficulty we managed to place the fine old man upon the lockers; the rolling and jumping of the boat was excessive, and imparted a weird movement to the body of the sailor.

He lay perfectly uninjured to all appearance. There was a blue mark on his neck, and his jersey had been split. Those were the only signs of dissolution. Poor Murry! He was a fine hearty sailor, and I am sure all his mates missed him for many a day.

This terrible incident affected us both deeply. Tim said a few words only, but I could perceive that he was feeling deeply, though his training and habit did not tend to sentiment. My intention was to get back as quickly as possible, and I said so. Let us get home!

"Whatever course are you steering, Tim?" I asked. "We're making out, not home."

"We shall never get home unless by land—unless we run ashore," replied Tim grimly. "She's leakin' like old boots."

"Leaking! What do you mean?" I asked in alarm.

"I means leakin', that's plain enough, I think. She's takin' the sea in fine, and I dessay in a few hours we'll see her beached."

"Where?" I asked quickly. "You're keeping off shore now."

"Can't land under these cliffs, anyhow. We must bail and run soon. That's our only chance I take it, Mister Jule. 'Spose you looks and bails; there's a dipper there. See to the well. Come, we'll lash the tiller, and she'll lie up a while in the wind if the mainsel catches her astern."

"But surely we can get ashore well enough. There are several vessels yonder; let us run out and board one."

"And be swamped likely. No, sir; let's weather the point and then we may get in on the eddy a bit. See here, we're driftin' now; we can't signal, the weather's thick a'ready, and likely as not a fog will come up to-night. There's bad weather about now. So let's try for the leak anyhow, and fix it."

We made an investigation which occupied some little time. We found the vessel was leaking, not badly; and if we could set the mainsail we could sail fairly well. The wind was unfortunately rising fast, and the day had completely changed.

I was surprised to find that time had passed so rapidly; it was three o'clock already. We were some miles out then, and still drifting out.

We determined to repair the gaff as a preliminary, so Tim set to work, and I assisted him as much as I could. That was not much, however, and all the time the day declined, the sea rose, the wind increased, and the Osprey jumped so that our efforts were not quickly successful.

"I say, Tim, can't we rig up the sail on the stump, and let her drive? We shall surely run against something bound homewards, or to London, or somewhere, and get ashore."

"I'm thinkin' we must chance it! The drift is dashing up too thick, and I'm feelin' like tea-time. Tell ye the truth, Mister Jule, I ain't the spirit for this. Think o' father there! How can we go back with that story? I'm gettin' 'down' over it."

"Oh, I say, Tim, none of that, please! Cheer up! we mustn't say die, you know. We have had a bad time, I know that, but we can't alter the facts. It's Providence, you know."

"Ye didn't say that this mornin' when you was savage about your eyesight," retorted Tim. "There was no 'Providence' in that. It was bad words and hanging people then."

"I was savage then, I know, and sick of things. But 'there's worse things happen at sea,' remember; and this is the worst I ever knew. Besides, it's a matter of self-defence and preservation, Tim. So let her drive; we'll be picked up certain. Let's do our best!"

"Very well, sir; you're master! Only, just see the weather! If we gets out yonder we'll never get back!"

"And if we lie here dipping and leaking we shall get nowhere! We can't hoist the sail, can we? No; well, then, loose the jib-sheet and drive out, there's plenty of steamers in the offing. I don't want to go home in such a hurry, and if it was not for"—

I stopped suddenly, my eyes had rested upon the outline of the poor old skipper's form, covered with the tarpaulin, amidships.

"Beg your pardon, Tim; do as you think best. I'll say no more. Let us lay to as you say, and try it."

There was a pause for a few moments. The spin-drift drenched us anew.

"Mister Jule," said he,—Jule being, of course, short for Julius,—"I think I understand ye. But, sir, you're the 'boss,' and arter all, the old dad—he can't hurt. He's 'done his bit,' and done it well! We'm alive-like, and we mustn't give in, must us? No, sir; we'll trim the boat, and run into the sea-way, and take what the Lord sends us. What d'ye say?"

"Done with you, Tim! Here's my hand on it. We'll sink or swim together. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir; that's hearty! I rather thinks it's sink more than swim. What you says I dessay's right; we may sink, and lay-to that way. Let's drive!"

"Ay, indeed! I am inclined to make a run for it, and do something."

Before I had finished speaking this ultimatum Tim had loosed the jib-sheet, and I shifted the helm a bit. The wind was lashing us then across Channel; the afternoon was glooming, the sun had disappeared to our starboard beam, and the sea became higher as the tide turned and carried us away from the "dirty cliffs."

"We shall smile at our fears to-morrow," I said, in an effort to be cheerful which my heart did not respond to.

Tim Murry made no reply, and we still ran seaward silently. Then I suddenly became dreamy—listless. I did not realise the circumstances, the sea seemed rocking me to sleep. Tim approached and looked at me, took the tiller from me, and I fell into a calm dream of home. I remember it well even now. The whole dream was for me a reality. My stepfather was looking at me, while I appeared to be on board a large ship like a man-of-war. Guns were mounted fore and aft, a number of men were running about, there was some great excitement. Yet I was not on the large vessel long; I was on a steamship next. The large man-of-war attacked us, I could not say how, and the ship I was in sank with a roar of steam and whistling and—

"Rouse up, sir, look alive! Steamer close aboard of us. She's whistling; she's seen us. I waved to her. Now we must leave this sinking boat."

I started up. The evening had fallen. The Osprey was half full of water. I had been dreaming of sinking—the reality was very near.

"Let us shout," I cried. "Say we're sinking, Tim."

"That's no lie, Mister Jule. The steamer sees us right enough. Will she be in time?"

"What a time she takes," I muttered. "Somehow I can't believe it all. Is it really true, Tim?"

"Rather!" replied Tim. "There's the boat launched! Don't you believe the water's up to your boots now? Look at it!"

I suppose I was still half asleep. I gazed at the swishing sea, and had no fear.

"All right, I can swim! You said we wouldn't, Tim!"

"You're nearer sinkin'," he answered. "Dad will never see the home again, arter all. Well, well, it's the Lord's will, that it is."

It was a sad and painful ending to a boating excursion. But at least we were saved, and going home. How delightful it would be to see mother again, to tell her all my adventures, to confess my temper, and to try to do all she had told me to please Mr. Bentham. Yes, I made up my mind to behave well, and give up the sea—if I must.

"Step in youngster," said someone.

My reverie had been suddenly cut short. I looked up, the steamer's boat was alongside.

"Just in the nick," remarked the officer. "How did you lads get into this pickle o' fish? Lucky we sighted you."

"Yes," I responded in a sleepy voice. "Is Tim there?"

"Aye, I'm here," he said.

"And your father's—body?" I asked. "Bring him out, please."

"What?" exclaimed the steersman. "A body—a dead body! Not for us. Push off, lads."

"You won't take it?" I cried. "Won't you bring it ashore?"

"No time to go ashore, youngster! There, you see, just in time! See!—she's sinking!"

I looked. The Osprey began to lurch and dip as the men pulled away. I stared in dread suspense, half dead, I fancied. Then we increased our distance. The Osprey lifted and fell, appeared again, disappeared; rose again, and just when one expected to see it once more the sea hid it and bore it out of sight for ever.

I think I shouted; I know I leaped up in haste, but a firm hand was placed upon my collar, and I sank back unconscious of all around me save the darkness of sea and sky. My senses left me!

So Murry had gained a sailor's grave. "There in the lone, lone sea—in a spot unmarked but holy," he lies at rest until the last call for "all hands" is piped.

CHAPTER III

THE STEAMER FÊNG-SHUI, FOR CHINA—CAPTAIN
GOLDHEUGH—DISCIPLINE AND A ROPE'S END!

When I again recovered consciousness I found myself in a comfortable berth, in what appeared an airy cabin on the deck of a vessel. The distant churning noise which attracted my rather wandering attention, and the shaking of the furniture, told me that I was on board a screw steamer. From the cabin windows I perceived a dim light upon the sea. The steamer rolled and plunged and shook herself with great energy, and at times the lamp hung, apparently, quite sideways across the room. As I continued to gaze rather listlessly about me, my eyes fastened themselves upon two words, of which I could make no sense nor meaning. These were painted upon a locker in golden characters, above some peculiar characters, and read—

FÊNG-SHUI.

What was Fêng-Shui? I had never heard of it. I puzzled over it. Was it a name, a motto, or a spell of some kind? It seemed to my still obscured brain "neither fish nor fowl nor good red herring," and the painted characters beneath the words looked even funnier than those upon a tea-chest. FÊNG-SHUI!

The letters burned into my brain; they kept recurring in a kind of sing-song refrain, and finally adapted themselves to the "Tit-Willow" song in the Mikado. Fêng-Shui, Fêng-Shui, Fêng-Shui! As I lay staring at the locker my mind turned the song anew—

A poor little sailor-boy lay in a berth,
Fêng-Shui, Fêng-Shui, Fêng-Shui!
And never could tell what was meant on this earth
By Shui, Fêng-Shui, Fêng-Shui!

And so on, ad infinitum, till my senses reeled again. At length, being almost desperate, I rose, and was in the act of quitting the horrible cabin, when a man in uniform—merchant service—came in.

"Hallo!" he exclaimed, "what are you up to? Sleep-walking? Get back directly, d'ye hear? Smart now!"

He aimed a blow at my back, and literally ran me into the swinging cot which I had just vacated.

"Are ye mad?" he inquired, with a touch of the brogue of northern Ireland—a most amusing accent to my mind—which gave a comic turn to his most serious remarks.

I made no reply immediately, only by staring.

"Ah! the boy's off his head! D'ye hear me? Are ye deaf and mad?"

"No," I replied; "neither, I think."

"Ye think! Ye're not sure! Then bedad I think ye're mad. What made ye jump out o' bed, then, like a lunatic?"

"I was wondering where I was, and thinking of those queer letters. I am better now. I was confused when I woke up."

"Oh, that's better! Sure it was a miracle ye woke at all; we all thought ye dead as Kerry mutton. What's ailing ye?"

"Nothing, except those queer letters."

"What! The ship's name, is it? That's nothing but Fêng-Shui, and it's written in Chinese besides."

"Oh, thank you, I see. I couldn't make it out. What does it mean?"

"Wind and Weather, and a lot more, in China. Ye'll see in time. Be easy now, I tell ye."

"In time! What do you mean?" I asked, starting up.

"What I say. In time! By and by,—when ye get there."

"Get where? To China?"

"That's it," replied my new acquaintance. "Ye've hit it plumb."

"But I am not going to China!"

"Aren't ye, bedad! Well, we'll agree to differ on that."

"What rot!" I exclaimed rudely. "Surely you're going to London?"

"Not till I get back, round the East. Then, maybe I will."

"Do you mean to say that this vessel is bound to China?"

"I do; and ye're bound to go with it."

"Then I won't! I want to go home to Beachmouth. Can't you put me ashore anywhere?—I don't care where it is."

"Can ye swim?" he asked, looking at me with a funny wink.

"I can, of course. Well?"

"Then ye must swim home. We're away in the Channel, and France is on the port-beam, if ye know what that is."

"Of course I do. Do you think me an idiot?"

"I did—a while ago. If ye're not a fool ye'll stay where ye are. Of course, ye're a bit mad now, but by the mornin' ye'll be well. Lie quiet now, and I'll send ye some food."

"No, thank you, I am not hungry. I am thirsty and chilly, though. Why can't I go home?"

"Because, unless I stop to put ye aboard some ship, ye can't. I can't stop now till daylight, anyway; and then we shall be about in the Bay. By that time I expect ye'll want to stay where ye are. Lie quiet now, I'll send the steward to ye with a lemon drink. Maybe in the morning ye'll feel better. Anyhow, ye must remain here—for the present, and keep yer claws in, like Tim Connor's cat."

"Are you the captain?" I asked, with some deference.

"So they tell me," was the quaint reply, as he left the cabin.

The captain of the Wind and Weather! Perhaps I had been too "cheeky." What would he do to me, I wondered. He seemed a nice man. Then I began to wonder what had become of Tim. He had not been given a cabin. Why had the captain taken such care of me? he had never heard of me, I was sure.

While thus groping in my mind for assistance and ideas, the steward appeared with a warm drink, which smelt of lemon juice, and some spirit—I think whisky. I had never tasted spirits, and declined the draught then.

"If you don't drink it the doc will come and fix you," said the steward. "Better this than him. He's a 'nailer' at nastiness. Take my advice, drink this, and you'll sleep like a top."

"On one leg, do you mean?" I asked, taking the glass and smiling.

"Anyhow, after that. There, you've some sense in you, I see. You came up pretty limp from the boat. Now lie down, and sleep till mornin', I'll come and see after you."

"I say, steward, wait a second. What's the captain's name?"

"Goldheugh—Martin Goldheugh—and a first-rate captain, too, I can tell you. But you must do as you're bid, mind; no skulking. Now shut your eyes and keep quiet. Good-night."

I murmured something. The drink I had imbibed was mounting to my head; I felt warm and comfortable. Then I began to count the distant throbs of the engine, and just as I had reached three hundred and sixty-two I—woke.

It was broad daylight. I rubbed my eyes in surprise. Daylight! Had I slept (like Scrooge in the "Christmas Carol") through a whole night in a few minutes. It could not be daylight, surely? I had only counted three hundred and odd beats of the engine at supper-time, and already morning had come. My first glance fell upon "Wind and Weather"—the Fêng-Shui sign; and then my heart beat fast. I flushed hotly. What would my parents think? what would they do?

I confess I was miserable and greatly upset. I was at sea, and for the first time very unhappy. My thoughts rushed to my mother, then to my indulgent stepfather, and I compared them with other fellows' parents who were so strict and stiff and severe. Neither my own father nor mother, not even Mr. Bentham, had been really severe with me. Most of my troubles had been caused by my own wilfulness and obstinacy; and, I then confessed, my disobedience! Yes, they had advised and guided me, while I, in my conceit, fancied I knew best, and consequently came to grief at last. Punishments came at times, and I rebelled, got punished again, and sulked. I perceived then that my parents had been just, and I regretted now that I had been so rude, and had parted from my mother so brusquely and unkindly.

My melancholy reflections were disturbed by the entrance of the steward. I was pleased to see him.

"Good-morning," he said. "Sleep well?"

"Splendidly! Where are we, steward?"

"Off Ushant. We shall get a tossing presently."

"What do you call this?" I asked, as the waves came rushing past the bulwarks. I could see great mountains rising and sinking outside, and white foam dashing up. The air was cool too, and raw.

"That's nothing at all; wait a while. The wind's rising fast, and we'll have a fine sea presently. Are you getting up?"

"What's the time, please? I feel better now."

"It's seven bells in the morning watch—half-past seven, you know."

"Yes, I know that," I replied. "Can I have breakfast?"

"Of course; whatever you like—in reason."

"Where will you reach port and land me?"

"I can't say; maybe at Gib—or Malta. We're in the Bay now. It's all the Bay between Ushant and Cape Finisterre."

"It's awful rough, I think I had better lie still," I said.

"As you like. The swell comes in here from the west, you see. But it isn't any rougher than the Atlantic between Ireland and America."

"I suppose you have sailed all around England, and also abroad?"

"Yes, I've been in a few places in my time. I was a schoolmaster once."

"You—a schoolmaster!" I exclaimed, sitting up with a jerk.

"Yes. Then I left the business, and went to sea as a purser's mate in the American trade. I saw a bit, and learned more geography than I could teach. I suppose you know all the celebrated sea places?"

"Oh yes; Trafalgar, and all those, of course."

"And Dungeness, Beachy Head, Harfleur, and Ushant close here, on the great first of June. I could tell boys all about them better now. Ay, ay; but let's not think of them. You want breakfast—all right."

He disappeared, and in a few minutes another man entered with a tray of good things, including marmalade and jam, toast, and hot rolls. What a splendid breakfast I made. I almost forgot my home then. But the reaction came, and I felt miserable once more.

At half-past eight—I mean one bell in the forenoon watch—I said I would get up. I received some assistance from the steward, who had dried my clothes, but they had shrunk sadly. I made inquiries for Tim.

"He's forward all right,—you mean the fisherman, don't you?"

"Yes, Tim Murry. I should like to see him."

"You can see him on the forecastle, if you like. You can walk forward when you've found your legs. Gently does it."

I was greatly amused by being advised to take care. Why, I had been out in vessels in very rough seas often! The idea of the steamer being so bad was ridiculous. So I stepped out on deck, and was just about to gaze around when I was thrown forcibly against the port (lee) bulwarks, and the breath knocked out of my body.

Wildly I grasped at the shrouds and halyards within reach. I gasped, turned blue and pale, and felt as if I was dying.

"Hold up!" cried the steward, who had come out behind me. "Don't try to kill yourself, young fellow! You're too venturesome. Here, let me lead you to the companion, and sit there by the steps."

He assisted me to the companion stair, and placed me in safety by the entrance to the little saloon.

The captain was on the bridge close by, over the chart-house. The ship was flush-decked, broken only by the commander's cabin, the charthouse, and the skylights, masts, and funnel. Forward was the men's berth and hatch. I could only observe these points when the captain hailed me.

"Hallo, my lad, are ye practisin' for the slack-wire? Would ye like a sling for yer legs?"

I blushed because the mate and steward laughed. The sailor at the wheel grinned silently.

"All right, captain," I replied, "I'll have a sling, please. Hoist away!"

The mate—I thought him the mate—on the deck laughed again, but in a different key. The captain spoke to him in a low tone. The officer came aft and beckoned to me to approach the bulwarks.

I staggered up as bidden, and in a moment he had secured me with a rope to a belaying pin amidships, beneath the bridge. The rope hurt me, and pressed hard upon my waist in front.

"Let me go," I cried, struggling to reach the deck, from which I was just lifted by the rope; "I can't breathe."

"You can shout, anyhow," replied the mate. "You'll find your level presently. Then you'll walk circumspectly."

"Can you spell it?" I sneered. I was annoyed then by the laughter.

"I T," was the answer. "And you'll spell 'rope's end' if you're impudent, my lad. So put that in your pipe!"

"I don't smoke," I retorted. "Let me go, please."

"Presently. Keep quiet, as the captain says. You'll be glad presently. How do you feel now, eh?".

"None the better for seeing you," I said rudely. "Let me go!"

"No, no; you must feel better first. You see this rope's end, you'll feel it presently. Just a little pleasant warming. See?"

He then suddenly laid the rope across my shoulders sharply, and on my back a few times.

"That will keep you," he concluded, stepping forward and leaving me to my reflections. "Now you know the ropes," he cried jeeringly.

I was angry, and made up my mind to fight the mate when I got released. The captain did not interfere at all, though he saw all that had occurred. However, I suspected he would have said something had he disapproved. I was very savage, though not really hurt—except in my inmost feelings. I wriggled, and kicked, and yelled aloud, but no one took any notice of me whatever. At length I subsided,—I felt rather sick and faint.

"Cut him down," said the captain to one of the hands; "he's had enough. He'll lie quiet now."

The man at once untied the knot which I could not reach; I fell on deck, and felt terribly ill.

"Come along o' me," said the sailor. "Just stand here to leeward! You'll be all spry in a few minutes now. Hold up, matey! Why, you're a greenhorn, and no mistake! Shave my cat's whiskers, but you are!"

I felt too unwell to dispute the question. I considered that I had been most unkindly treated; that the captain and crew, including the mate most particularly, had been almost brutal! I longed to quit the ship and to return home. Even Granding and Smith's, I believed, would be more pleasant than the steamer. I began to hate the sea, the waves, the voyage! Was this the beautiful Ocean on which I had sailed so joyfully so often? What a mercy it was that I had been plucked in eyesight!

My eyes were open now, long before the usual nine days. I could see things in a different light. No doubt the Royal Navy was different from this "tramp" steamer, but it was all the same feeling at sea! Oh, my head! my head!

CHAPTER IV

BOUND TO CHINA—THE VOYAGE AND MY EXPERIENCES—
CASH IN HONG KONG—RUMOUR OF WAR

"I've been thinking about ye," said the skipper, two days later, when my head and legs became more easy, and obedient to my will. "When we reach Gib ye must make yer choice—and I think ye'd better stay with me."

"Yes, sir," I replied doubtfully; "I suppose I must."

"There's no must in it, youngster. I'm bound for Hong Kong and Canton, and, further, I don't keep any idlers on board. If ye go with me ye must look lively. Yer mate, Tim, yonder, is already worth his salt. He tells me ye're a cadet."

"I wanted to be; my eyes were wrong, the doctor said."

"Then ye're fond of the sea? Now, here's my idea: I'll keep ye, if ye like, aboard, and, please Goodness, bring ye home. If not, ye must telegraph home from Gib, and I must send ye back in some liner, somehow. Make up yer mind, it can't take long."

"I suppose you think me a fool?" I exclaimed testily.

"I do not," he replied, with the emphasis of the native Irishman; "but maybe I will when I hear yer opinion."

"Then, I'll stay," I replied, feeling rather undecided nevertheless. "But what will they think at home? My mother will fret."

"Well, I'm sorry for yer mother, but I think she'll survive. I know something about ye from the boy forward. Now, tell me the truth about yerself. Who are ye, anyhow?"

I told him the truth. He listened quietly, nodding at intervals, and finally said—

"All right. Now, my lad, listen to me. I'll be the making of ye, and yer mother won't know ye when ye go back, eh?"

I hardly fancied that this would be an advantage for my parents, but I said nothing, and the captain continued—

"I'll make a man of ye, so I will. I'll just wire to yer daddy, and tell him I've got ye safe and sound, and will bring ye back. I'll clothe and feed ye and teach ye something, and maybe ye'll come back a second mate for the Company—the Shanghai and Hong Kong Tea Company."

"Thanks," I said briefly, rising as I spoke.

"Hold on a minute, there's one lesson first. When ye speak to the captain, say sir; d'ye mind?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, blushing furiously as I stood before the master.

"Very well, that's the first thing. Now, what can ye do? Can ye hand, reef, or steer? Speak up!"

"I can't furl a sail, sir. I can reef a fore and aft sail, and can steer a little."

"Very well. Look here, now, I'll keep ye, and put ye under my man; he'll trim ye a bit, and Mr. Rose, the mate, will set yer lessons. By the time we reach the China Sea I expect ye'll know the ropes. Ye must work for your living here,—no skulking, now!"

"No, sir," I answered respectfully.

"That'll do; I'll take the responsibility of ye, and bedad ye'll have to mind me! But I understand ye are a gentleman; so'm I, and ye'll be taken care of. Ye'll be a man before your mother yet."

This I believed highly probable, and nearly said so, but the looks of the captain deterred me. He proceeded—

"Just keep quiet till we make Gib; then I'll see ye fix'd up, and put to work. My steward will berth ye and feed ye. Ye needn't go amongst the crew, mind; and needn't keep watch—unless ye like—at first. Now, are ye satisfied?"

"Yes, sir, I am; and am very grateful to you for all your kindness."

"That's bully, now," he exclaimed. "Here's my hand on the bargain. Ye'll do, when ye get the starch out of yer collar. We don't want any airs here, mind ye. What's yer name? Jule, is it?—what?"

"Julius, sir," I replied, feeling terribly small.

"Julius Cæsar? No, it can't be that, I suppose. Never mind, we'll call ye Julius until ye become a mate. In my country they'd say if ye wasn't the mate ye'd be the boy to serve it! D'ye mind that? Come up now, and get a breath of the wind, young Cæsar."

I laughed, and thus I became a sailor. But how different was the introduction from that I had anticipated! I was rigged out as a cabin-boy in the steamer, and carried away to the Far East, instead of being trained on the Britannia and serving in a man-of-war. Many a night I lay half-crying in my bunk, thinking of the change in my prospects, but the days passed quickly, letters came from home, and I had plenty of money afterwards, but the first step counted very much in my career, and I grew fast at sea. I said so once to the captain.

"Mind ye don't grow fast ashore," he said. "Cut yer wisdom teeth first here."

I could not get much "change" out of the skipper.

But I am anticipating. I was still a cabin lad, and under orders. I was taught many things, such as knots and splices, heaving the lead, the names of the ropes, and was sent aloft when I had become accustomed to the vessel. We didn't sail much, but at times we hoisted a topsail, jib, and spencer (or mainsail) when the wind was on the quarter, and time was pressing. We steamed through the Mediterranean, and had I time I could tell you my experiences and pleasure in seeing the places which as a lad I had read about.

What lad of fifteen would not have been delighted, as I was, by seeing Capes St. Vincent and Trafalgar? The steward, the captain's man, my chief, so to say, told me many anecdotes about them, and the battles, the prizes, Nelson, and other heroes. Gibraltar, Naples, Malta, the canal, where we saw mirages in the sand, Suez, the Red Sea, Colombo, and away to Hong Kong, whence we proceeded to Canton. All these experiences were delightful. I almost forgot home in the new and charming scenes of the East, though I found some drawbacks in the Chinese people and the climate.

We voyaged and traded between India and China for eighteen months, until I became, as the captain had declared, a mate under him, and though acting, I could act fairly well! I was then a grown lad, nearly seventeen, and full of energy.

We were at Hong Kong in the year 1894, a place I always liked, and the first visit to Victoria I never shall forget. It was in the end of the year after leaving home. Hong Kong in my mind had been always associated with a song which we used to sing in the bedroom at my first school about a "gay cavalier" who, having been disappointed by the lady he loved, declared, lyrically, that she "might go to Hong Kong" for him! This fine and interesting ditty, as we then thought it, came into my head that day when the Fêng Shui steamed into the harbour.

What a beautiful scene! Perhaps you think that because I am young and (a little) verdant I exaggerate the beauties of the panorama. Well, ask your friends. Let them tell you of the blue sky and sea, with the numerous vessels sailing and at anchor, the men-of-war with flags and pennants of all nations, the sampans, the junks, the hundreds of strange rigs and faces (and languages as of Babel all around you) floating on the beautiful water, from behind which rises "the Peak," the highest point of the mountain chain which dominates the town of Victoria, which is built along the slopes.

And, indeed, upon a steep slope it rests, in an apparently insecure basis, inasmuch as the houses appear to be tending to the sea, as if thrust by those behind; so that one almost expects, when one returns after an absence, to find a row missing, and the larger houses lower down on the hill. Above them are the woods or thickets of the mountains, and, at times, the low clouds upon the Peak. Opposite is China, bare and rugged.

When you land in Hong Kong—at least this was my youthful experience—you are inundated by coolies who will carry your baggage, for a few cask, upon a bamboo pole, resting upon the shoulders of two "porters." A single porter may be employed, but in this case your (light) load will be balanced by him at the end of the pole and sustained by a weight at the other, in the weighing-machine method. These fellows trot up the hills with the burden which sways upon the pole, and though you may wonder why the man does not walk quietly, you will soon discover that the flexible bamboo is most easily borne at a jogtrot when laden, because it adapts itself to the pace, or the pace to it, as it swings. Try it, my young friends, and you will agree with me that a swinging trot is the easiest mode of progression under the circumstances.

"Cash" in Hong Kong, and in China generally, is of course in signification the same as in Europe, but in China it is specific, definite. The cash is a bronze coin, in value about the tenth of a penny, with a square hole punched in it, so that the purse-bearer can string hundreds of them over his shoulder like a bandolier of cartridges. The cash is usually slipped upon a cord, knotted in the centre, and the money passed on over both ends. When a hundred cash has been strung on each end a knot is tied, and two other hundreds are added as before, up to usually one thousand cash, which then represent a dollar. Three shillings and ninepence at most, if good money, but frequently it is mixed. In some ports eleven hundred cash equal a dollar.[[1]]

[[1]] Cash is very ancient, it dates to 2300 B.C. The "sword cash" was in use about 221 B.C.; the circular, with square cut, is of David's time in Israel. Value, 1800 cash = 1 oz. silver.

The dollar and cent are the money values in China,—copper cash and paper notes. A five cent piece represents about twopence farthing. Provided with cash, and even sometimes with a purse-bearer, one can "shop" in China if you are careful to give about one-third of the value of the article demanded. Let me now resume my story in 1894.

*****

"Jule," said the skipper to me one day, "take the belt and come with me. I want to make a few purchases and to do a little bit of business. I think we shall make money."

I accordingly procured sufficient cash, and we were passing the club of Hong Kong, which, by the bye, contains a nice library, when a gentleman accosted the captain. The stranger looked like a Japanese. He was short, intelligent, quiet, but decided in his manner, and spoke English fairly well.

"Captain Goldheugh, I believe?" he said, raising his hat in salute. It was not the salute of an inferior, though; there was no servility in the man's manner.

"Yes, sir," replied the captain, responding in kind.

"Can you favour me with five minutes conversation?" asked the young man. "Perfectly private matter."

"Certainly," was the reply; "shall I accompany you? We may talk here." They drew aside within the shelter of the house, and appeared to be in earnest conversation, which continued for some minutes. Meantime I strolled back and forwards watching the mixed assortment of people, of whom there are specimens from India and Arabia and other lands in abundance—negroes, Europeans, Parsees, Chinese, British, Portuguese, and French, coolies, and some—very few—Japanese; so the gentleman who had accosted my skipper was rather remarkable, perhaps.

When the pair had finished their chat, the skipper came back to me, and said—

"Jule, my lad, ye need not carry the cash to-day. Unless I am mistaken we are in for a fine deal. Mind now, keep your mouth shut. I think we'll make a profitable business of this."

"What is it?" I asked, as we returned to the waterside.

"Well I'm going to trust ye now, as a gentleman. What d'ye think of a war?" he asked.

"A war!" I exclaimed. "Where? In Europe do you mean, against us?"

"No, here; in China perhaps."

Such an idea had never entered my mind. The fact of impending war in China had not been presented to me; all seemed peaceful.

"Who is going to fight?" I asked.

"Perhaps no one. But ye saw that Jap there?"

"Yes; a nice fellow I thought, sir."

"Well, he has made me an offer, and if my suspicions are correct we'll make a little haul of cash. English cash—pounds—not this miserable, crawling, centipede kind of stuff which wouldn't buy a scarecrow a meal for Sunday. No, bedad, Jule, my boy, we're in luck."

"I hope so, sir. How?"

"Don't ye know I told ye about some business when we started that had reference to a mandarin chap, one of the Company's customers, for whom I had advices. Now, mind ye, this Jap has shown a hand—only a finger, I may say, but a finger points somewhere; and it just indicates the very direction in which I was going later. D'ye take me?"

"Yes, sir. It seems that the John Chinaman and the Jap have their heads in the same direction."

"Exactly. Jack and Jap is the business entirely. I have business both in Japan and China. I know the seas about here, and they both know I know them. So my friend has 'offered' me for the steamer. What d'ye think of that? But he desires secrecy—a private cruise."

"The Japanese man you mean?"

"Ay, the Jap. But I was going to-day to the Mandarin Johnny to hear his business, and if he means the same, I smell war, my lad!"

"But how will that benefit you, sir?"

"It will benefit the Company if the Government takes up any transports, and makes a contract with the Fêng Shui. See? Now let us go on board, dress, and see the mandarin later."

We went off in a sampan to the steamer, which was lying off a little, awaiting orders. The captain took me ashore, dressed in a neat uniform, and I rather fancied myself in it. We landed, chartered two "rickshas," or jinrickshas, a Japanese importation, and were trotted out to the bamboo-shaded house, amid the scent of lovely flowers of all colours and perfumes—frangipanni, jessamine, roses—which the natives arrange in tasteful bouquets in the streets.

The "ricksha," pulled rapidly by the coolies, passed along the hilly thoroughfares under the hot and stifling sunlight. It was not a very bad day either, and yet in our cool white suits, and under wide umbrellas, the heat was quite sufficient that afternoon, and we were compelled to change on our return from our "pidgin" with the "Number One Johnny"—the high-class mandarin, to wit.

This mandarin lived in a bungalow, and affected certain tastes in deference to his neighbours—the English. He spoke the language well, and though he was dressed in Chinese fashion, and was a perfect Chinaman in appearance, he had risen above his people in many ways. We entered the house, which was almost destitute of all the attributes of British houses, no curtains, nor carpets, nor rugs, nor anything to heat one to look at; on the contrary, all things were cool—bamboo chairs, high casements, wide windows, stained floor, fans and punkahs waving automatically, it seemed, but, of course, pulled outside.

We were ushered in by a Chinese "boy," and into the presence of the "Number One man." He was dressed in the usual well-known fashion—a loose robe, with trousers, long sleeves to his garment, stuff shoes, and of course a fan. His keen eyes were shaded by spectacles. His shaven head and pendant pigtail and queer eyes betokened the true Chinaman.

After salutations, by rubbing his hands over each other, he asked in what he had deserved the tremendous honour which my captain had done him in visiting his most miserable hut.

The captain in reply mentioned certain instructions he had just received, and suggested that the "Number One man" knew something of his errand. What did the mandarin think of the steamer Fêng Shui?

"It is a solid vessel, and can carry soldiers?" he asked quickly, after some other remarks had passed. The Chinaman dispensed with any compliments just then; he offered us tea, but did not taste it then.

"Yes," replied the captain with deference, "she will suit for a transport. The Japanese wish for her."

The spectacles flashed at us, the fan waved, but no irritation was otherwise expressed.

"Has the Japan Government purchased the 'inside' steamer?" (screw).

"No, highness; I declined the offer. I am awaiting yours."

"Your terms for the steamship for three months, if we wish to send it with your crew to Corea?"

The captain paused a while, then he named a sum which made me look out of the window, I nearly smiled. I did not know the value of steam transports fitted for service; it meant hundreds a day! Hundreds for that small steamer and crew—and, of course, officers.

At length the transaction was completed. The tea was drunk then, not before. We bowed ourselves out, and regained the Fêng Shui, where the mate was in charge.

"Well," said the first officer, "what's happened?"

The captain told him our experiences, and mentioned the conclusions at which he had arrived.

"Look here," he said in a low tone, "mark ye this, there's going to be a fuss between these two countries. They are both trying to get ahead of the other, and I understand that Corea has a finger in the pie. That Japanese I told ye of—the man I pointed out to ye," he continued, addressing the mate—"ye know."

"Ay, ay; but he's not a Jap!"

"Not a Jap! What d'ye mean?" exclaimed the captain angrily.

"What I say, captain; he's no Jap! He and his pal are Coreans. I can see that. Look at his sleepy face under that 'bowler' hat—a disguise! He isn't a Jap; and he wants a secret passage, you say. Things are getting mixed all round. He's up to no good."

"Well, maybe ye're right, Rose," replied the captain. "But why do ye think the Corean men are cutting in against us?"

"I only know what I have seen; I've seen two Coreans searching for a vessel to-day—and on the sly, I hear. They are up to something; and it's all round queer, because they have a Chinese and a Japanese with them. Four together, and only the Jap looks honest."

"They can't hurt us, so no matter. I'd like to know what they are scheming, by the same token. There's war in it, and the Company's agent knows it. I'll fix it, and we may have to steam for Shanghai on sight. We'll get steam up, Mr. Rose; pass the word for Jenkins."

Mr. Jenkins was the "chief engineer," and he came to confer with the captain in due course.

I obtained leave for the evening. Fancying that I could clear up the mystery of the Japs and Coreans, I took a sampan, and went out on search through the harbour for the hired, secret vessel.

CHAPTER V

A SECRET MISSION—KIDNAPPED!—THE SCHOONER—THE ASSASSIN

As I did not wish my chief to know whither I was bound, I went ashore first, and strolled about in the cooler hour of the evening, and even penetrated into the queer Chinese slums where little drums of the peddlers, and the chatter and smells and heat, soon drove me back to the parade, away from the houses of the natives. Their stupid faces, so smooth and greasy-looking, their odd dress, long pigtails (of the men), the coarse, rolled hair, pinned in masses (of the females), both sexes being costumed nearly alike, quite put me off. Even some experience of the country has not impressed me in favour of the native of China.

So I returned to the water, and calling a "sampan" got the number of the man taken—for many people have been "missed" from a Chinese boat at evening—and told my man to propel me across the harbour towards Kow-loon. This is in China, where the change of the scenery is marked and wild; but I did not come for the prospect, I wanted to search the further side of the harbour, which is about a mile across and ten square miles in extent.

If the Coreans had an idea of secrecy, I imagined they would rather seek a small sailing vessel—perhaps a junk rather than a steamer, though, of course, the latter would be more speedy, and more certain if a storm arose. But they would sail by the north channel, so I made for the north point, the extremity of the peninsula of Kow-loon, which is under British authority by lease.

I passed amid the ships of all kinds, large and small, which crowd the harbour; boat-houses (literally dwelling-houses) of the natives who at Hong Kong, as at Canton and Shanghai, and other places, live in the wherries in aggregate thousands. Small and limited is the accommodation, truly, when a family, with a pig, and perhaps ducks, live on board. The chances are in favour of drowning; but the male children are tied to the gunwale; the girls are let to go as they please, and if they disappear—it is "only a girl"! There is little care for life in China—of the natives, I mean—and least of all for female children.

The evening was drawing in, and I had not found any vessel on which I recognised the so-called "Japs." There were hundreds of ships of all sorts, and I was pleased to hear a hail in English from a clipper schooner as I was passing in the dusk.

I pulled alongside the vessel whence the "hail" had come, and, when close aboard, I recognised the speaker as a friend who had assisted me once or twice in the past when I had been unhappy and in need. His name was Eagan.

Glancing along the trim and natty decks of the schooner, I gained the gangway. The little ship was ready to put to sea, the anchor was already weighed, and the schooner was only fast to a buoy, for the breeze was light. I recognised the craft as a former smuggling vessel, and named Harada by her late owner. She traded in "natives" up the coast, and to Formosa, the Pescadores, and as far as Shanghai, or even farther north.

"Hallo! back again?" I cried, as I clasped Eagan's hand.

"Why, certainly," he replied; "think I'd scooted? What are you prowling about for?"

"Simple curiosity," I said. "Thanks, yes, I'll have a 'peg," I added, as he indicated refreshment by a nod in the direction of the cabin.

"A tidy berth this," I continued. "Suits you, anyway."

"Yes, not badly. What's your simple curiosity led you to? I can estimate the curiosity, but I don't see where the simplicity comes in."

"Really?" I asked, as I watched him mixing a soothing draught.

"No, really. What's your spot? What's your little game?"

"My game! I'm just sculling around—that's all."

"By accident. One of your freaks, o' course! Still acting on the Fêng Shui, I suppose?"

"Yes; but confirmed now—second."

"Ah! Going north yet?"

"Presently—I mean by and by. When do you sail again?"

"When I receive sailin' orders. Maybe to-morrow—maybe never."

"Come, Eagan, you're mysterious, for you! Your anchor's a-peak, and you are loosing sails. You are just off. What's the game? Whither bound—honour bright?"

He paused and looked at his tumbler, then raised it and looked at the lamp through the liquid the glass contained. He slowly brought his eyes back upon mine, and said—

"Honour it is! Chemulpo perhaps—Shanghai certain."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I say, Eagan, what's your Jap up to?" He started and stared at me, then he replied—

"I say, Jule, what's your Chinese up to?"

"Rats," I replied. "What's the coil here?"

"Snakes," he retorted. "What's your notion?"

He suspected me; and I fancied that I had by accident hit upon the Coreans' vessel, or of the vessel they had chartered, perhaps.

I kept staring at the skipper; he was silently staring at me. Neither would say the word he was anxious to say. A pause ensued.

"Well," I said at length, "I must be off. No more, thanks. 'Pegs' are likely to upset one in the dark; anyway, they don't steady one."

"P'raps not," he replied. "Well, so-long, mate; we'll meet sometimes, I hope."

"Certain! I see your sails are loosed, Eagan. I'd better be going. Ta-ta!"

"Good-night. Hallo! where's your boat?"

I rushed to the side. My sampan and the boatman had disappeared.

"Hang it! I say, skipper, send me ashore, please," I cried anxiously. "We may sail by daybreak."

"I'm just as sorry as sin, but I can't. My dinghy's ashore, and I've no time to man another. I guess you'll have to wait a while."

"What do you mean? Remain here? I can't."

"Guess ye must, Jule boy, till morning. Say, there's a signal. That's my boss comin' alongside. Show lights!" he called out. "Gangway!"

Three or four men, dark-featured fellows, Chinese apparently, came abaft, and a European mate came up from the cabin somewhere.

I saw a light flashing from a boat which quickly came alongside the schooner. I walked to the counter and watched it. The occupants were two short men in the stern, two natives in the bow, and two sailors rowing.

The lanterns gleamed as the men stepped on deck from the stern-sheets of the boat. They were wrapped up, but I knew one of them. He was the quasi-Japanese officer whom my captain had spoken with. These men were escaping perhaps—whither? What plans had they been maturing—what plots had they been framing in British territory?

The foremost arrival did not notice me, the second did,—he I did not know at all,—but neither made any remark to me. The officer, as I may term him, turned to Eagan, and said in English, clearly—

"Stand out at once, please. Make for Shanghai direct."

Eagan nodded merely, and said, "All right, boss." Then he gave a few orders which the mate repeated, and in five minutes the schooner was passing out by the north channel.

"Eagan," I said, "where are you taking me? I must join my ship."

He shook his head, and went to the wheel himself, leaving me raging. I followed him.

"Do you hear?" I cried. "This is piracy. I'll give the alarm if you do not put me ashore. Hail a boat!"

"Just lie low, Jule. Wait till we reach Shanghai, you'll find the steamer there, I expect, and if not you can wire; so be easy, boy."

"I'll make a row for this!" I cried, feeling enraged with him.

"If ye do I'll put ye overboard. The crew are Chinese, and no one will care except me. So, keep still, and I'll land you safely up at Shanghai; best so, I tell ye."

"Then you are hired to carry these fellows; I see. There is something wrong here, Eagan, and you shouldn't do it."

"It's no business of mine, lad. I'm paid for the passage, and when they land it's finished. Your old screw will be in Shanghai before us. There's nothing wrong in the case so far as I see yet; I'll tell you more in a while. Go and have some supper."

I was very much annoyed by this departure, and began to grumble at the skipper; he only laughed at first, and then got angry in his turn, until the mate came aft and dragged me below, where we supped in amity.

"Take no notice of anything," said my new friend; "but, 'tween you and me, there's going to be trouble about this. For one of these chaps has been induced by the other to clear out of Victoria and to go to Shanghai. I can understand some of the lingo, and it's plain to me that the man named Oh Sing, or Kim,—I can't quite catch it,—is rather frightened of the boss, whose name is Lung. The Lung man won't let him out of his sight, and if a chance comes I suspect Mr. Lung will punish the other fellow."

"What's his object, then?" I asked.

"Can't say. Eagan is suspicious, too, of these Coreans. One fellow is evidently nervous, and keeps his Japanese servant near him all the time. The captain don't want any fuss on board this ship, you understand."

"Well, I shall say nothing. We shan't be long in reaching Shanghai, and there I can quit, eh?"

"Certainly—why yes, of course. Now, when you're finished, we shall go on deck. The captain will want to go down then, and you shall watch with me if you like. Keep your eyes skinned."

"You scent danger then?"

"In two ways. The glass is falling; that, after such a jumpy time as we've had, means tempest. You know that?"

I nodded, and he proceeded.

"Then, again, we must never leave these passengers to themselves, unless the weather's very bad, because there'll be trouble. If the weather's bad they'll all be sick, and near dead anyway. So let us pray for typhoon, mister."

"I shall not," was my reply. "When you see the barometer waltzing down to twenty-eight degrees or so you'll pray for something more interesting to yourself! Keep an eye upon the Coreans by all means, but watch the glass whatever you do."

We were strolling up and down the weather-side of the deck. The wind was off shore, and a bit abaft the beam. As we cleared the Channel we spun along the ripples, sending the "phosphorus" flying around the stern, and light-up the forepart to the chains. The sky was perfectly clear, and the mate hoped to reach Formosa quickly with such a breeze.

We were still strolling at four bells, ten o'clock, and then I felt inclined to turn in somewhere.

"Take my bunk in the inner cabin. If you hear anything, just let me or the skipper know. Those fellows have a game on if I am not mistaken; but no 'revenge' in this ship, I say."

He nodded at me significantly in the soft light by the binnacle. The steersman was a Lascar. The crew was composed of a variety of natives; but in the cold weather of the northern sea the Lascars were as dead—and died too.

"Good-night," I said. "I'll find my way."

I stepped softly down the stairs, and passed through the "saloon" or eating-cabin. I found the berth close by, and tumbled in by the dim light of a swinging candle-lamp of the spring-up pattern, as we used to call it. The company in the saloon had dispersed; the captain had quitted it some time before, and the two Coreans and the Japanese servant, who stuck to Oh Sing, parted. The man Lung, I fancied, disposed himself in the saloon. The other came and looked at me, and perceiving that I did not stir, he, after a pause, crawled out, hands and knees, on the floor, and vanished in the darkness outside the berth.

The wind was rising, the sea was following suit. I slept lightly as usual, when I was awakened by a breathing close to my face. I opened my eyes quickly, and started up.

A knife flashed in my face. I seized it, and shouted, "Help!"

At the moment I cried out I sprang up. Someone at the same time extinguished the already expiring lamp, and as I leaped upon the deck-floor I distinctly heard something retiring. I called again, and the captain came down into the dark and silent saloon.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Is that you, Mr. Julius? Had a bad dream, I reckon, eh? What are you doing here, anyway?"

He turned a ship's lantern upon my scared countenance as he was speaking.

"No; someone came into the berth and flashed a knife in my eyes. If I had not called out I would have been stabbed."

"Nonsense, nonsense," said the captain, who still blinked the light upon my alarmed looks. "There are no murderers here, lad. But tell me how you came in here; this berth belongs to the passengers."

"The mate told me I would find a bunk in his berth."

"Likely; but this isn't his. This belongs to one of my passengers—to Mr. Oh Sing."

"To him!" I exclaimed, recalling the hints of the mate. "Then perhaps somebody intended to stab him!"

The skipper looked at me steadily for quite half a minute, without speaking. Then he replied—

"Better come on deck, sonny; you'll see no knives there, and may bear a hand for me. I think, somehow, a storm is coming up. Look slippy now," he said, as he went to examine the other "rooms" astern.

I looked as slippy as possible, but "look sleepy" was just then the more correct expression, as I ascended the stairs to the deck. The breezy, somewhat cool, night soon dissipated the feelings of sloth which remained in my eyes, and I was able to grasp the aspects of the surroundings, which were, after all, pleasanter than the revealed dangers of the cabin.

The mate was forward, and I took up my position by the wheel so as to look well ahead and around. There was a low grating astern, on that I stood and cast my eyes over the sails.

The schooner was slipping away north-east, the wind still just a little abaft the beam, and filling all our sails. The Harada was a topsail schooner—that is, she carried small square sails aloft on the foremast, and as I reflected, with a fast-beating heart, upon the very narrow escape I had had below, my glance was fixed upon the topsail, which seemed pulling hard at intervals. Then the wind would slacken again, the cloths would remain at their former tension, and all well.

The sky was beautifully blue-black and clear, and I calculated that we should reach Shanghai in about six days, supposing no bad weather intervened. I felt very happy and comfortable there, in command, nominally, of the vessel, though I wondered why the skipper remained below.

After a while I became convinced that the breeze was increasing, and more than that, in a jerky, uncertain manner which I did not like. We had plenty of sail on the vessel, jib, stayforesail, topsail, fore and aft foresail, and mainsail. I fancied we ought to furl the topsail at anyrate, and I called the captain through the skylight.

Eagan came up smartly, and after a comprehensive look around, said—

"Mr. Julius, just call the hands, will you? Watch will reduce sail," he cried. "Be smart, lads!"

The watch, who had been resting in the "shade" of the bulwarks, at once arose at the summons, and I ran forward to call all hands, but the mate anticipated me and turned the men up.

"Come, Mr. Julius, will you lead the men aloft for me? I must get the mainsail stowed and the jib down."

"Aloft, boys!" I exclaimed, and was in a moment leading the hands up the rigging. "Crikey," it did blow up there then! All of a sudden, as it seemed, the wind increased, and when we attempted to secure the sail it flapped and banged us about so that it was with great difficulty we even commenced to secure it. But the six skilful hands managed it, and by holding on "by our eyelids" and "legs and necks" we got the square topsail secured to the yard in fair style. Luckily the true tempest had not then broken, and we got the yard down.

Then came the struggle. Sail after sail was reduced as fast as possible, and came down rapidly, racing the mercury in the tube which was leaping lower and lower. All hands were on deck except the passengers, and the sea came drifting in foam and spray across the ship. The Harada dashed into the short seas, which rose landward, as if ejected by big hands underneath with no roller-force; but the wind made noise enough in the shrouds and cordage to deafen us, and even the boats slapped and almost danced adrift from the davits, and filled with rain-water.

I thought we would escape easily, but Eagan roared in my ear that this was the beginning. He was right. The furious blast seized the sturdy little ship at one moment, and snapping some ropes like whipcord, sent them flying around our heads and beyond. The schooner dipped and dipped, lower and lower; strake after strake disappeared, until the planks seemed to become lost, and the vessel to be settling beam under. The passengers set up a horrible scream, they were too greatly alarmed to fight, no doubt; and even the best of us thought of the great and solemn inevitable end.

All this time the sea was most terrible, the wind and darkness were awful, the foam simply a white mist around us. The vessel suddenly rose up again, was again depressed, again lifted as the squall subsided; and after four such experiences, each one bringing our masts down to the waves, and the last one smashing the mizzen-topmast short at the cap, we floated more steadily. The wind changed, smote us again on the starboard quarter, after blowing in a circle for a couple of hours, and we rested on a trembling sea, drenched with spray and rain, and dishevelled.

Most fortunately our masts stood the strain, and our ballast did not shift. Had the latter given way we must have been swamped, or we must have cut away the masts. However, we pulled through the cyclone, or "typhoon" as they call it out there, and in seven days we ran into the river at Shanghai not much the worse after all, though with a jury topmast and spliced rigging.

CHAPTER VI

SHANGHAI: ITS IMPRESSIONS—MURDER!—A RESCUE, AND A HAPPY ENCOUNTER

The steamer had proceeded up the coast, threading the Chinese Archipelago in the direction of the southern entrance to the Yang-Tse-Chiang, as English people mis-name it. The Chinese name it Kiang, or Ta Kiang, the former being the "river," the latter the "great river" (Kiang-tsi being the province). The Kiang runs for three thousand miles through North and Southern China, and is available for steamers for a long distance inland. The contrast between the blue ocean and the mud-tinged waters of the river is observable far from land.

To approach Shanghai we were compelled to proceed carefully in our little ship, because the Woosung River, on which the settlement is so well situated, is narrow and shallow in comparison with the Kiang. But when the last corner is turned and the concession comes into view, with its wharfs, brewery, cathedral, trees, fine houses, quays and streets, well supplied with water, gas, electric light, post-offices, telegraphs, and pillar-boxes; police of sorts, from the British "blue-bottle" to the Chinese "copper" in knickerbockers and gaiters, supplemented by the Sikh or Indian guardian of the peace in a blazing turban, who would more quickly disperse any youthful gathering in England by his mere appearance at the corner than the "bobby" of British aspect at home, the visitor is astonished.

The schooner anchored in the stream, and I was greatly surprised by the evidences of wealth which the beautiful houses and the esplanade, the wharfs and shipping, denoted. All these are so different from the ideas which the average and untravelled Britisher has conceived of China, that if he do not visit Hong Kong on the way out, nor stay in San Francisco on the way round, he will be fairly astonished at Shanghai, when he first views the settlements, and its prosperity.

Three concessions line the river, namely, the English, the American, and the French. The two former are united in their Government, and separated by creeks and bridges. The English and American settlements are well kept, clean, and well looked after. The French, which lies by the Chinese outside-settlement, was rather badly kept, and even a British "ricksha" was not permitted to cross the French line. A roadway lined by trees, like a boulevard, runs between the houses and the river, which is embanked, like the Thames in London. The Chinese city of Shanghai is walled and separated from the "foreign devils'" location, it is most truly Chinese, which means a great deal. Woosung is the port.

I was pondering upon my intended movements, when Eagan came amidships to where I was gazing at the crowded river, and asked me what I proposed to do.

"Suppose you'll go ashore and have a spree?" he said.

"Can't I stay where I am?" I asked. "I have not much money, and am ignorant of the place, though I hear there are boarding-houses for sailors."

"Hum—yes," he said doubtfully. "We're going into dock, and I think you'd better go to the hotel. My passengers are landing, and are going to the Japanese hotel in the American section, now. They won't mind you anyhow. The place is cheap and good, I hear. If you stay there to-night you may find the Consulate in the morning, and get a wire perhaps, or letters, or any news possible."

I thought Mr. Eagan wished me away, and I consented to his suggestion at once. He seemed relieved by my assent.

"See, now," he proceeded, "here's cash for you, never mind paying. We're bound to refit, and you'll have twice the fun ashore than you'd have with me in the 'muss.' You've never been up here? Laws! Then go ashore with my passengers. Never mind the want of baggage, it's aboard your ship," he said, winking, "but I'll lend you a change, and a few things till to-morrow."

Under the circumstances I considered that Eagan's plan was best, and besides he did not want me any more than the four passengers, and I did not press the matter further. The skipper gave me some dollars and a quantity of cash, and passed me amid the crowd of chattering coolies who scented passengers and a job. After a struggle, in which Eagan had upset several of the most unfortunate of the coolies, the valise he had filled for me was hoisted by the chosen one of the mob, and borne by him to the Japanese hotel in Honkiew, the "American" settlement, which, with the British and French settlements, are entirely separated from the Chinese city, though the rich Chinese prefer the foreign quarter.

The foreign concession is surrounded by streams and ditch from the rest, and is virtually an island isolated. The river bounds one side, and brooks the others; one crossed bridges and ditches, and finds change and decay! There is an Anglo-Chinese settlement, but all the foreign side is clean, well lighted by lamps and electricity, with fine houses, warehouses, and public buildings. Shanghai is no longer China in the settlements.

In the American settlement my friend Eagan, whom I suspected was an American bred, had indicated the hotel on the Broadway. To this I repaired, and was quickly furnished with a room which in itself was not lavishly supplied in this manner. However, it was clean, and proved comfortable, and I slept, rocked, in imagination, by the heaving sea.

I awoke late, and was engaged in various "extension motions" ere preparing to dress, when my calisthenics were suddenly brought to a conclusion by the sound of a pistol shot. Was this imagination? I hastily attired myself in pyjamas again, but before I had quite finished, another, and another shot rang out in the corridor!

I dashed out, but seeing no one, though inhaling the smoke of the discharges, I ran to the head of the stairs. Three or four others came on the scene immediately, and a number of persons came rushing up from below. I pushed on, and stared in horror at the sight. A dead and bleeding body lay before me!

It was that of Oh Sing, or Kim, the smaller of the two Coreans who had sailed in the Harada.

I started back. Then Lung had been revenged! I began to appreciate the danger I had escaped on board the schooner. Here was the victim, shot dead in the "Japanese" hotel! Truly I had had a most marvellous escape. Lung had evidently intended to assassinate his companion in the berth which I had unwittingly occupied. What had been the object of the murderer? These reflections hurried through my mind like lightning, and the spectators began to compare notes concerning the incident even while carrying the dead man back to his room. As we thus retraced our steps, we managed to put the facts together, and when the doctor arrived he asked me what I had witnessed. My testimony was brief but important, and the Consul's representative arrived during the interview.

The unfortunate Oh Sing had been shot by three bullets, so all the discharges had taken effect. He had been shot through the cheek—the left—and again through the stomach—wounds which tended to prove that the man must have been lying down when attacked, and that the assassin had entered the bedroom. The left cheek being perforated tended to the assumption that the poor victim had been lying on his right side, away from the door, when attacked. He must then have turned, half rising up, and received another bullet in front, and then he had fled. The third ball had penetrated below the shoulder, and had found its billet in a vital part, for the man had died at the end of the corridor, by the stairs down which the man Lung had escaped.

This was a most unfortunate occurrence for the hotel people, and I fancied I knew then why Eagan had been so anxious to get the passengers, including myself, ashore; and why he had kept the Coreans apart when on board. He knew something—and guessed the rest.

Having given my name to the Consul, and been advised to remain in Shanghai for a while, I had breakfast, for which I had little appetite, and sauntered out. My first visit was to the docks to acquaint Eagan with the news, but I ascertained that the Harada had sailed at daybreak, "leaving no address," so I was compelled to retrace my steps.

I was now in a quandary. If the Fêng Shui did not come up soon I might be arrested as an accomplice in the murder, and all day I strolled about within the settlements listening to the strong expressions of disgust for the deed. The murderer must be hanged—that was only justice. The feeling against the Japanese was in a measure increasing, and one knows how racial dislikes are fomented in the Far East. I began to look around me cautiously. I had been already in the witness-box, and some fanatic might think it proper to whet his knife upon my ribs. This opportunity I did not desire to afford him.

But for all my care I, of all people, was drawn into a dispute, and concerning an arrest—or perhaps I should say an attempted arrest. I was strolling up the road which turns aside from the Bund—a street in which European wares are displayed—when I perceived two rather peculiar Chinamen following a third Chinese, and evidently "shadowing" him. Perhaps I might not have remarked them had not the "shadowed" man halted beside me as I was looking at photographs displayed in a well-known shop. I turned sharply to look at the man. He struck me as different from the ordinary Chinaman, not a coolie, yet not a mandarin certainly. A "middle-class" I may say; a trader, perhaps, but surely not a native of South China.

To my astonishment he addressed me in excellent English.

"Can you permit me to accompany you, sir? Please be cautious."

I stared at the fellow; then thinking that trouble might arise, I made no reply. He spoke again. The men stood watching us.

"Do not turn away. I am in danger in these clothes. Can you assist me? I am a Japanese officer."

"A Jap!" I exclaimed. "Why this disguise, then? What are you doing here?"

"I have been travelling in China. The Chinese suspect me in consequence of the murder here. Can I accompany you a while?"

I paused a moment, and at length consented. We proceeded to the Consulate, and were seated upon the bench there, when my new acquaintance replied to my request for information by saying—

"I am a sailor—a Japanese junior officer. Those men intended to kill me. I am searching for news. They are arming against us."

WE PROCEEDED TO THE CONSULATE

"Yes," I replied; "I hear as much. How can I protect you then, supposing you are a Japanese officer? How can I tell that?"

"I can produce my authority, sir," he said gently but firmly.

"Will you disclose your identity to the Consul, then?"

"I would prefer not."

"How, then, can I protect you? I have no proof of your mission."

"If you permit me to remain with you until evening, I can then meet protection."

"Why not address some other Englishman—a merchant or shipper? There are many officers and sailors better than I."

"The merchant would not credit a 'Chinese.' The natives do not mix with the foreigners except in business-talk—'pidgin,' you know. If they betrayed me I might be killed. I intended to leave here sooner, but have found no vessel in which I can yet sail. The Japanese steamer will arrive to-night. Let me remain with you. You will be sorry if you do not, I daresay."

"You speak English very well," I said. "You have been in London?"

"Yes," he answered; "I was attached to the Japanese Embassy a while—at least, I was a student in London, and met with much kindness. My brother, who is in our army, was also in England at one time."

"Can you tell me the names of any people in England who knew you?"

"Oh, certainly," he said, smiling at me as if I had asked an awkward question. Then he mentioned several people well known, and at least one family with whom my people were acquainted, their residence, and friends. I was almost convinced.

"Very well," I said after a pause, "I will take you to the hotel; but you must talk bad English, and attend me to the various places I want to see."

"Can do," he replied promptly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, in surprise.

"Can do; makee talk chop-chop. Alle same Melican-man."

"Pelican? What do you mean? Are you sensible? What's Pelican? Food?"

"No," he replied, smiling broadly, "Melican-man is an American in the pidgin. Melican."

"Oh, I thought you said pelican first, not pigeon." He smiled.

"I was chattering coolie-pidgin. 'Can do' means 'can,' simply. I implied that I would attend you, that's all. Please be careful."

"Of you, or of myself?" I asked, smiling in return. "All right, let us go to the hotel. You can remain there a while, then we will take a stroll, and perhaps by the time we have returned we may find your ship in the stream. I am also expecting a vessel."

"Which vessel? British?"

"Yes, British built,—a steamer, Fêng Shui. Heard of it?"

"Not a steamer. Fêng Shui is Chinese—superstition. The men are leaving us, see! But they will return. Shall we move?"

We rose, and looked round us. I felt rather nervous. Suddenly my young Japanese cried—

"There she is! Kyodo Maya. My ship for Japan."

"A merchant steamer!" I exclaimed. "Not a warship."

"Yes, 'Union Steam.' I go home. You have saved my life. Let me wait until the boat comes ashore. I join my ship at Chemulpo."

I was quite puzzled. Was this man true or false? If false, what could he gain by selling me? He appeared honest, and certainly two men were watching us still. He had laid himself open to suspicion, at least.

"Come with me, sir," he said. "If you will come on board the steamer you will understand this. I assure you I am true, and thankful for your society."

"I am also awaiting my ship. Perhaps your vessel may not wait to put me ashore again, and"—

"I am an officer," he interrupted. "The captain has instructions for me."

"But not for me. See, the men are approaching again. A boat is being launched. Shall we go to the wharf now?"

We hastened down. The sun was setting, and the Japanese had certainly had an escape. Even then the bandits looked ugly and revengeful. The "officer" was full of thankfulness and gratitude to me.

"Remember," he said, "if ever we meet I am your debtor. My name is Tomi Taijiro. My relatives are in the navy and in the mercantile service. My elder brother is in the army. You will remember you have saved my life."

"I am pleased to think so," said I. "If so, I am truly glad. I hope we shall meet again. If so, once more, I shall claim your promise. I believe you."

He bowed deeply, lowly fashion, and I wondered for the moment. But his costume warranted the obeisance, and the boat came near. The two men approached us through the throng, and Tomi whispered—

"On guard! I dare not call assistance. Stand firm!"

Meantime the steamer's boat was approaching, impelled by Japanese. The Chinamen came closer. We shifted away amongst the people, and I hailed the boat. The officer made a sign to the coxswain. The men pulled harder.

At that moment the assassins rushed in. In another moment we might have been struck, or even killed. But we turned suddenly, and unexpectedly separated. Each seized a "coolie"—so they appeared to be—and with real luck avoided a stab. In a second both men were swimming for life amid the shouts of the spectators, amid alarms and cries from natives.

"What is it?" asked some anxiously. "What has happened? Were they thrown in?"

"An accident," I replied, nodding at Tomi as I turned away. The boat came up, and he was rowed away, to the surprise of the onlookers on the wharf, who had not seen the struggle.

Then I returned, and remained indoors next day till afternoon.

As no one molested me, I became more easy in my mind as the day wore on, and I began to look about me with more interest. From the fine parade along the river,—the Bund it is called,—with its turfed slopes, Shanghai is alive, right away to the men-of-war, local steamers, and launches. The streets are full, even crowded, with passers-by and rickshas—the original "Pull-man car of Shanghai." On the Bund the business is performed, and its occupants are indeed busy. It is a wonderful sight for the stranger from Europe, who expects things to be Chinese-like. In the Maloo, or chief road, cabs, broughams, barrows, and horsemen jostle each other daily.

This is not China! It is London, Paris, New York. Fine houses and broad pavements; banks, hotels, imposing buildings, a cathedral. Great ships and little boats, sampans. Vessels loading and unloading, noise and bustle, cranes and steam-whistles. Babel of language, and the never-ceasing chatter of the Chinaman and his friends. Cash! cash! cash! Merchants, coolies, rickshas, runners, porters; Chinese dodging the carts, and avoiding the "foreign devils"; yet, at times, driving in British landaus driven by a Chinese. Such a confusion, such fun and variety; yet all over it, for me, hung the shadow of the crime of the Corean which led to War!

I crossed the bridge, and visited the Chinese-European sections,—not the city of Shanghai,—and the French Quai des Fossés, and the familiar notice of the continent of Europe—"defendu!" The Chinese possess in their section no landaus, they hire wheelbarrows like Mr. Pickwick's. Here one can examine the shops and the natives at leisure. You may see the deformed feet, and the really unpleasant supplies of food which the Chinaman consumes, and the frequent coffin which he will occupy later when he dies of "carrion dishes."

And all this primitive, conservative, old-world practice in the midst of modern civilisation—electric light, steam, and even comparatively broad streets, high houses, and wide roads,—but not China.

I put in the three last items because Chinese natives have no roads, as we called them, no high houses as in Europe, and no streets. The streets are alleys; the houses deep, not high; the roads, paths! All is topsy-turvy; even the house-roof is made and put up before the walls; and politeness consists in depreciating oneself to the visitor. The lady of the house is a nonentity, and the meaning of "wife" is merely "the woman who uses the broom" or servant! In Shanghai Anglo-China you may be amused and interested, but in a Chinese town, such as Amoy, or Shanghai, or Hankow, you will be disgusted, and unless strong in all ways, come away absolutely sick and ill. The sights, the smells, the open drains, the filth, the putrid food, and the personal dirtiness, will, in a quarter of an hour, repel all but the devoted seeker and the confirmed and robust smoker.[[1]]

[[1]] The wealthy Chinese are yearly becoming less conservative in their habits, and their wives are now in evidence in carriages.

But when within European districts one may see something, and satisfy legitimate curiosity; perhaps even in the peep-shows, though here again the taste of the native is for "high" meats; and "blue" incidents, as in the theatre and such places, are evident.

*****

When I arose next morning I heard that Lung had been arrested, and that the inquest was to be held at once. Lung did not seem in any way interested, and declared that he had acted under directions from high authority in Corea. However that may have been, he was not hanged nor imprisoned, but handed by the consuls to the Chinese, and departed in a man-of-war.

Being much interested in the case, I kept watch, and discovered that the man would be conveyed away by night to Corea. As I was wondering how I could find out the fact, and conceal myself from the police, I saw a well-known figure making for the Consulate, near which I was seated. I rushed up and accosted the new-comer.

"Captain Goldheugh! This is luck!"

"Julius! By thunder! is it yourself entirely? Well now, look at that! I was going to the Consulate for ye. Look at that!"

This was an apostrophe, a favourite expression with the skipper.

"And ye're not dead at all?" he asked, after a hearty shake, twice repeated.

"Not at all," I replied, laughing. "Delighted to see you, captain."

"So am I, bedad! Why, the steamer was crying for ye, and wouldn't steam scarcely, and we declared it was the name did it—Fêng Shui, no less. I am thinking of changing it. I am so!"

"Why, sir? Surely Fêng Shui is no harm?"

"No harm, is it? Bedad, it may mean anything—in China; and as we're Chinese now—a Chinese transport I think I'll make it, bedad!—I'm going to the Consul to report the Kowshing. I never did like the name Fêng Shui—in China. I was told it was unlucky."

"Why? What does it mean?" I asked, as we continued our way.

"Fêng Shui? I told ye it means 'wind and weather,'—but also their influences; things which cannot be exactly understood, but which, like electricity, are evident. In China Fêng Shui generally means a grave."

"That's cheerful, anyway," I muttered.

"And whether the place is 'good' or 'bad' depends very much upon the imagination or estimation of the persons interested. There are 'professors' who profess to understand Fêng Shui, but I needn't say they are mostly humbugs, and only try to make money out of ye. But I think China is getting much wiser, and less conservative in many ways. Ye'll see ladies on bicycles soon—I mean Chinese women; and when ye do, ye may depend the old restrictions are broken away."

"Then the Fêng Shui is doomed, you mean?"

"Yes, it will be; and the steamer must change her name. Look here, Julius, between you and me and the bedpost, the mate and myself have made up our minds to stand the racket for the Company, and chance it. The agent holds off, but I see my way to profit by the fuss."

"What fuss? This murder?"

"Bosh!" exclaimed the captain. "The war! The Chinese and Japs are already at loggerheads about Corea. This murder business will cause the Japs to interfere. China has already sent soldiers to Corea, and the Japs have the right to do the same. Now ye'll see sparks fly!"

"I'm afraid I do not quite understand it."

"Well, well! Can't ye understand the difference between Conservatives and Progressives? Yes! Then Japan is progressive, and the Chinese the other way. The Johnnies objected to Corea being made progressive, as the Japanese tried to make it, because Japan is advancing to European perfections. That very fellow who was killed two days ago was an adherent of Japanese advance, and the old Coreans' style opposed him. Some years ago (in 1882) the Japanese had to fly out of Corea; they sent troops to punish the natives, the Chinese did the same, for the sake of making peace. But the Corean Progressives attacked the Corean Conservatives, who retaliated, and drove the Progressive party out in 1884.

"Then it was arranged that both China and Japan, the Conservative and Progressive motive-powers, should each send troops to Corea if the other did, and the treaty between Li Hung Chang and Count Ito lasted for nine years, till now—1894. And now," concluded the skipper, "Mr. Oh Sing, or Kim, has again thrown the fat into the fire. He's been killed,—he was a 'Progressive,' ye understand,—and the consuls, or one of them, has caused the murderer to be sent by the Chinese to Corea to the king, free and unpunished! Bedad, my lad, we'll see more sparks out o' these flints yet!"

"Then the Conservative Corean has killed the Progressive Corean?"

"Just so; and the Chinese, being Conservative, have saved the murderer, and sent him home in a man-of-war! In a Government ship! Sent him home with honours! Sure the Japs won't stand that."

"I suppose it was a planned thing?"

"Certainly; a plot,—a decoy. You, somehow, came in the vessel, and, I hear, got into trouble almost. If the King of Corea instructed the man Lung, or Hung, and if he goes back unpunished, then ye'll see some 'fun,' as people call it."

"And the Chinese expect something?" I asked.

"Yes, they do. They're searching for transports on the quiet; and when I have changed the Fêng Shui to Kowshing, and settled the bad luck, then we'll just go up to the Yellow Sea, and look in at Taku."

"Why at Taku?'

"Because I hear, quite by accident (accidentally on purpose, as my uncle used to say), that the troops for Corea will embark there, if anywhere at all. My game is ready, and the steamer will be there. If I can get the job, I makee much cash; if not, then perhaps one catchee die, and get one piecee coffin, as Johnny Coolie might say. But alle samee some day. Are ye hungry, Julius? Let's chow-chow, eh?"

"Indeed I am, sir; very hungry."

"So'm I. I'm a'most dying with the forgortha—the hunger, ye know,—myself. Come on then, and have bird's-nest soup and roast rat."

"No thank you," I replied with a shudder,

"Oh, come on, boy! Have lunch with me, and drink good luck to the Kowshing and peace to the Fêng Shui. Come!"

CHAPTER VII

THE FÊNG SHUI CHANGES HER NAME FOR LUCK
—THE TRANSPORT—THE JAPANESE
MAN-OF-WAR—SURRENDER OF THE KOWSHING

We were compelled by circumstances to remain a few days at Shanghai, and almost every hour begat new rumours. Sunday itself was no day of rest for the Spirit of Conjecture; she was busier than ever, and whether on the Bund or on the concession road, where everybody met all the world and his wife and family, the speculations were numerous and important. Only the ugly Amas (Chinese "ayahs"), and their usually pale European charges, were exempted from the general discussions. The Chinese, too, were quite quiet, but also perfectly alive to the situation. Those of the settlers who played lawn tennis or other games, or cycled,—as most of the "foreign" men did,—paused to discuss late events on the grounds, or on the Marine Parade. The Chinese drove, or perhaps walked, but did not "go in for games" as the "foreign devils" do; it is better, they think, to pay people to do all this to amuse them.

The steamer quitted Shanghai, and made her way into the Yellow Sea, which is beautifully blue, and derives its name from the Ho, or Yellow River. Near the land it is more muddy, but steaming at sea through the ocean depths the water is blue as an Italian sky. We made our way up to Taku, or Tien Tsin, the well-known port of Northern China. We passed close by Yung Cheng, and rounded Wei-hai-Wei, passed the islands, and steamed through the Gulf of Pechili to Taku at the mouth of the Pei-Ho.

I was very much interested in this place because a cousin of mine had been engaged in the expedition against the Taku forts in 1859, and I recollect my admiration when my cousin returned with some beautiful Chinese robes, and other articles, which he had purchased, or found, in Pekin after the capture of the capital. These spoils still exist in the possession of my cousin's family.

While embarking Chinese soldiers for Corea, we heard many reports of the Chinese fleet, the attack of Japanese in Seul, and such intelligence, which confirmed my captain in his impression that war had already virtually been declared, and that the struggle would be fought out by sea and land, between China and Japan, in the Yellow Sea and in Corea. So he made haste to embark the soldiers,—some twelve hundred men with twelve guns,—and, when they were settled on board, the steamer followed the other transports, of which nine had already sailed. There were two other English steamers employed in the service, but we didn't think that any fuss would ensue, because we trusted to the "red ensign."

"Well, Julius," said the mate to me, when we had crossed the bar at Taku, "here we are on service."

"Yes," I replied; "but it is only transport service. There will be no fighting. We can't fight, and no one will harm a British ship."

"Let us wait till we reach Corea. When we reach Asan, and land the troops, we shall be able to sing 'Rule Britannia.'"

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking at the mate intently in the dim light. "There is no danger, is there?"

"I suppose you know that the Japanese warships are out in this sea, and they expect to meet some Chinese vessels?"

"But we're not Chinese; we're English."

"Just so," said the mate. "Hadn't you better look after the troops, and get them settled. If any storm gets up, or anything happens, they will be like children, and we can't hold them."

"Who's the major? He's not a Chinese, anyway!"

"No, he's a German, I believe—a Von something—a good fellow, I think. You see the Herrs are getting the thin wedge in in China, quietly. Look at their travellers already—commercial, I mean—they are turning us out! This major is teaching the army to shoot. They are very young in the modern sense. Just see that the Johnnies are quiet."

They were peaceful and resigned. So far as I could ascertain, none of them, except the generals, had any notion of what they were sent to do—except to fight somebody; but they were apparently quite passive in the matter, and gave themselves no concern either way. They were machines then; but later they roused themselves unpleasantly.

It was early in the morning of the 25th July 1894; I had been on deck, but came up again about eight a.m. because I was informed that the islands were in sight off Corea. I knew the mate was on watch, and he might want me. So I came up to him.

"I say, Julius," he said, "just call the captain! There's an ironclad ahead, and I can't quite make her out. She carries the Rising Sun, but there is a white flag over the Japs' colours. Look alive!"

Just glancing ahead I thought I could see the vessel referred to, but of course I called the captain at once.

"Where are we?" he asked, rising quickly.

"Oft Shopieul Island, I heard, sir; in the Corean Archipelago," I added.

"Thanks," he replied; but whether he was sarcastic I could not divine. I at once hurried on deck again, and searched the sea.

The captain then came upon the bridge, and I heard him chatting with the mate.

"I suppose she's a Jap," said the latter; "but I can't grasp the white flag."

"Dip the ensign, anyway; it's the proper thing. Hoist the red rag," he said.

The signal-hand quickly bent the ensign of the merchant navy; it rose, fluttered out, dipped, and rose again to the peak, blowing out plainly.

"I say, he takes no notice," cried the captain. "She keeps her course to the north-east. Now what in thunder does that mean? It's an insult, bedad!"

"She's steaming at a fine rate, sir. Looks as if she was in a hurry."

"Running away, bedad!" laughed the skipper, turning his glass upon the large ship. "Ah! a man-of-war and a Chinaman,—a trick, I believe."

"Really so?" exclaimed the mate. "If so, there's been a 'tit up' yonder, and Jap has licked Johnny, but I heard no guns. Excuse me, sir, what's that yonder?—a schooner, I say."

I heard him, and got a glass from the signalman near whom I was standing. But the schooner was not the Harada, so far as I could see. She had no foretop-sail-yard. She was steering south-east, a long distance away, and looked an old style of vessel getting away.

By this time the news had spread through the steamer, and penetrated to the Chinese intelligence forward. The soldiers came up in numbers, and the officers, accompanied by the European passenger, began to chatter and make all kinds of inquiries and observations. The Japanese flag had evidently raised the "dander" of the Chinese. They understood that the man-of-war was a Chinaman, but could not understand the white feather of retreat or escape.

By degrees the excitement increased, and the crew of the steamer became very much interested. The native fireman even came up to look around, and though unable to see anything, descended again, much impressed with the result.

Notwithstanding our native English assurance, one or two of us—I need not make invidious comparisons—began to suspect danger. The captain, mate, and the German military passenger were perfectly calm and unembarrassed, and the Kowshing proceeded at a good pace to her destination. The chief men were on the bridge. I was within hail, and at times stood upon the ladder to see better, and to hear better, what the prospects might be of seeing war.

We still kept our course, and had approached within a mile or so of the island from the north-west, when three men-of-war came out from the land in our direction.

"What do you make them?" asked the captain.

"Japs," was the reply. "We are getting into a hornet's nest, I think."

"The British ensign will surely protect the steamer?" asked the foreign passenger. "There is no necessity to alter the course."

"Precious little use, anyhow," remarked the mate. "We must keep going, though I fancy the ships will not appreciate the Chinese troops on board. We may be compelled to return."

When the Chinese commanders perceived the Japanese vessels approaching they became rather excited—the soldiers also crowded forward, and there was no appearance of fear amongst them. There was some anxiety, certainly, on board, and when the leading ship passed on and fired two blank cartridges, there was a feeling of uneasiness evident.

"Stop her," came the order when the two guns and the signal had been interpreted. My heart beat loudly at the sound of the unshotted guns. They meant heave to—anchor.

The steamer hove to and waited, tossing gently upon the sea.

"What are they up to?" was the question expressed or implied. "Tell them we understand, Julius." "Ting, ting" went the telegraph to the engine.

The man at the signal halyards and myself sent the bunting aloft. The flags said, "We have stopped"; and again we waited, lopping and rolling, as the anchor plashed away into the blue sea at eleven fathoms.

"I say, are we prisoners?" I asked the mate when he came back amidships, having seen the anchor let go.

"Looks like it," he replied crossly. "Must wait the Japs' convenience, I see."

The Chinese generals then began to plague the captain with demands which the German officer translated and repeated. There was great confusion.

"That ship's the Naniwa," I heard someone say.

"She's returning. All right, we may proceed, I presume."

"She is only going to confer with her mates," said the engineer, who had come up. "But the captain is asking something."

I made out the signal as directed, and it spelt "May we proceed?" The engineers anxiously awaited the reply, and the crew expected the order to weigh.

But to my dismay, and certainly to the disappointment of all on board our steamer, the reply came from the Japanese, sharply—

"Heave to, or take the consequences."

We looked at each other, the Chinese commanders were furious. The men made ready their rifles, and got up ammunition. Things began to look black all round.

The Chinese commanders demanded to know what had been said, and when they had been informed a discussion arose. So greatly were they exercised that the foreign officer suggested that the soldiers might be sent below, because he feared a disturbance if any Japanese came on board; and also, I think, he fancied we all were in danger if the troops became mutinous.

This advice, backed up by the officers of the steamer, was acted upon, and when I had assisted in carrying out the order with the quarter-master, Louis, we came on deck again, and we saw the same ship again approaching us on the port side—on the beam; she took up a position so that she could enfilade us with her starboard battery, and we could see that she had prepared to fire her broadside.

I really could not believe we were in danger. It seemed so absurd to think that our Japanese friends could threaten a British ship sailing under the ensign, and employed in transport duties. I said as much to the mate. He shook his head.

"You see, we are in the enemy's pay, and the Japs must have the first blow if they mean war. Still, I suppose they will take us off the steamer, and make the Johnnies prisoners. Here comes a boat. We shall soon find out all about this business."

"The Japanese are armed," I said.

"Certainly they are. They are on the warpath. I hope we shan't lose our scalps!"

I laughed at the idea, and the mate walked forward to keep watch and order ahead, without echoing my misplaced merriment. He seemed to take things seriously. How absurd!

"Gangway!" came the order, and the captain went down to receive the two Japanese officers who intended to come on board. They were received with politeness, the lieutenant and his sub demanded to see the steamer's papers. For this purpose they went into the chart-room.

Meantime I was staring at the boat and the Japanese sailors, neat and tidy fellows, and at the youthful officer keeping guard. My heart leaped. I recognised him as the youth whom I had assisted that evening in Shanghai when the feeling against the Japanese ran high. He recognised me at the same moment, and smiled. I advanced and saluted him; he replied in kind, and we exchanged greetings. It was Tomi!

"May I inquire what your captain intends to do with us?" I asked after a while.

"I cannot say," he replied. "My officer and your captain will doubtless arrange matters."

"We are not at war," I persisted; "we cannot be harmed." I glanced at the English ensign as I was speaking.

His eyes followed mine, and he touched his cap politely, then looked at me. "Will you come on board?" he asked. "I will assist you now, if you like."

"Why? What for?" After a pause, I replied, "No, thank you. I am on duty, of course." But I thought it kind of the middy. He knew the danger.

"Stand back, please; here is my officer," he said quickly. "Be silent."

He at once became distant as the land, and shut up like an oyster. He perhaps was afraid to be seen speaking to me.

The captain and the Japanese lieutenant then appeared. The latter said—

"I will convey your message, sir, I understand that this vessel is under the charter of the Chinese Government to convey troops from Taku to Asan. Is that correct?"

"Perfectly," replied the captain.

The lieutenant continued, "There are eleven hundred soldiers on board, with arms and ammunition and supplies. Are you prepared to follow the Naniwa, sir?"

"I am willing to do so," replied the captain. "Will you favour me with your esteemed name?"

"Lieutenant Hitomi," was the reply. "Yours, sir, is Goldheugh?"

The captain bowed; the lieutenant bowed in response, and was then most politely escorted to the gangway, whence he was rowed to the Naniwa, as he had named her. She was painted white, and had one funnel.

She was, and is, a fine ship, and I scrutinised her size and guns and equipage of modern appearance. She was armed with two 26 c.m. twenty-eight-ton Armstrong guns; six 15 c.m. five-ton Krupps; besides machine guns—a heavy armament for a ship of something under four thousand tons, I estimated. She carried three hundred and fifty-seven men, and could steam eighteen knots. These details I learned later; at the moment of the lieutenant's departure I was fascinated by her guns. It seemed so unreal to me. War was so unexpected by us, though I gathered that it had been brewing for months. Still it is always disturbing and alarming, even if one is not face to face with it, as I was.

When the Japanese officer had returned to the ship, the Chinese generals came up with the German officer to make inquiries. The major was not present when the explanation had been made, but he understood that our captain had mentioned him as a "passenger."

"I did so, sir; I told the lieutenant. Did you not hear what I said?"

"No," replied the passenger. "If you had called me, as we agreed "—

"Bless my soul, what time had I to call anyone?" exclaimed the captain. "The man didn't wait for any explanations. He asked me questions, and when I had replied he was off like a shot; and maybe he'll treat us to one presently, though I suppose it isn't his fault. What are the generals going to do?"

"They declare they will resist. You should have stipulated to return to Taku, they say; and they will rather die than be taken prisoners."

"Bedad, they may have to do it!" muttered the captain. "Julius, hoist the signal for a boat. The Chinese fellows are breaking loose, and we'll be murdered in a minute. We're between the devils and the deep sea now, and may go anywhere. Call assistance!"

The German gentleman in vain attempted to influence the Chinese. He could speak their language, but they did not listen. The officers declared they would fight. They had eleven hundred against the three hundred and fifty Japanese, and they could prevail! In vain the major declared that the ship's guns must destroy the steamer if she fired at us. The generals were obdurate. They directed their men to guard the bridge and gangway, to kill any European who resisted, and to load all rifles.

"We have your protection," they said to the captain. "If you withdraw it on the part of England, we shall shoot you. You have made a contract with us, you must complete it. Take us to Asan, or back to Taku, and forfeit the charter."

This was translated to the captain, and he swore. He signalled for the Japanese to send a boat, and the reply came—"Send at once." We then waited in the greatest excitement, fearing for all on board who were not Chinese, because the soldiers threatened, and made the most horrible signs to us all the while suggesting death and torture.

It is almost incredible, but it is true—no romance is here.

CHAPTER VIII

THE END OF THE FÊNG SHUI—CAPTURED AND PRESSED

The tremendous excitement of the Chinese was due, as I then understood, to a signal from the Naniwa, which we found out meant "Weigh; cut or slip." This was rightly interpreted as a command to follow the warship and surrender, and the Chinese absolutely declined. I wished we had run away and beached the steamer.

We were on the bridge then. I mean the officers; and the captain attempted to persuade the Chinese officers to be quiet. But the trouble increased every minute. Soldiers loaded their rifles, and took up their positions as sentries at the ladders, so that at the first symptoms of surrender the British would be shot; and when the Asiatic begins to kill he becomes a fiend.

Under these circumstances the captain made an appeal to the Japanese. Goldheugh and the mate conferred with the German officer, who was a "drill instructor" of the Chinese troops, and the cry went up—

"Send a boat. Must confer personally."

When this signal was perceived, and explained, the generals threatened to shoot us all; the soldiers at once thronged the deck, and advanced to the gangway, so that if the Japanese came on board again they ran a great risk of being killed. The signal was replied to by "Send immediately," and we waited amid a fearful uproar, and desperate resolves upon the part of the Chinese to cut our heads off.

We were silent and expectant. The explanation was agreed on by all the Europeans, and it was with great difficulty that the Chinese leaders were at length induced to order the men from the gangway. The Japanese did not come alongside at once. They perceived the difficulty and the risk for us.

When the lieutenant did come up he was informed of the state of the case. Captain Goldheugh and the German officer fully explained the cause of the delay.

"We can do nothing," said the former. "You desire us to weigh anchor; the Chinese will kill us all if we attempt to obey. Cannot your captain permit us to return? We had not heard of any declaration of war before we sailed. We have not in any way broken the laws of nations."

"The Europeans must quit the ship," said the Japanese. "That is my suggestion."

"We cannot. You perceive the difficulty. What shall we do? You may let us return to Taku. This is the Chinese demand."

The Jap shook his head doubtfully.

"I will inform my superior," he replied. "You must be ready to act when the answer comes, whatever it may be."

He then returned to the boat, and the crew gave way rapidly. All these arrangements had occupied quite three hours and a half, and it was then nearly "one bell,"—half-past twelve,—for I remember the bell being struck at the time the Japanese boat was proceeding to the cruiser, which lay about half a mile away.

"Julius," said the captain, "tell the engineers and firemen to come on deck; and hark ye, my lad, put on a life-belt."

"A life-belt! What for?" I exclaimed.

"Do as ye're bid," he said, descending from the bridge, and entering the chart-room, and later, his cabin. Meantime I gave the order, and the engineers and firemen came up, some went forward to wash.

We had not much time to spare. The Chinese sentries had left the bridge before this, and the "calm that precedes a storm" had settled upon us. The pause was broken by the expected reply from the cruiser—

"Leave the steamer at once."

The captain shrugged his shoulders, and called to me—

"Have you told the engineers? Signal, 'I am not allowed,' and ask for a boat for us. Be ready all; there's mischief now."

When the captain had made this reply, he spoke to the mate, who quitted the bridge, and made some preparations to depart. The next thing I remarked was a red flag at the foremast of the cruiser, and a signal abaft—"Can't send boat."

"Then we're done," said the chief engineer. "What's that red flag?"

"Looks like 'Fire,' but it can't be that," replied his mate, who had retreated aft with the mate of the steamer.

"She's taking up position," said the mate. "See! What's that? By thunder, it's a torpedo! That's another. Hurry, lads. Fly! Jump! They intend to sink us with the Chinese fools!"

I stood irresolute, not from fear, because I could not realise the extreme danger of the situation. "A torpedo," the engineer had said. I had never seen one before; and was it possible that this black thing which was rushing like a small porpoise at us was intended as a destructive weapon against a friendly vessel? What would happen if it struck the steamer?

Before it touched us, however, a fearful thunder of guns rang out at one moment, and a curious sound of grinding or rattling.

"A broadside!" shouted the chief mate, rushing forward. "Leap, Julius; jump overboard!"

He rushed at a belt, and disappeared as the steamer heeled over under the fearful impact of the shot or shell, and I also dropped in the blue sea behind him. The effect of the broadside was to depress the steamer upon the starboard side.

The crash was fearful! Even as I fell into the water I felt the concussion, and the roar of the discharge was terrific. Since then I have heard "guns going off," and have been startled by them, but this hurricane of shot was fearful. When I again rose, supported by my belt, the air was enveloped in steam, and thick with dust, while the sea was sprinkled with coal ashes.

The "quick-firing" guns were peppering the survivors on the doomed ship, flashing from the Naniwa like crackers. The Chinese kept firing in reply at anyone in the water, and at the ship's boats, which had been lowered, but not with the intention to save life at first. The Japs fired without mercy at the wrecked and sinking steamer and the Chinese troops.

Mechanically I swam in the direction of the island. I had no time to fear the bullets, but perhaps I owe my life to the small ladder which supported me, and beneath which I managed to float, and propel myself at intervals, while the firing continued. The Chinese replied aimlessly from the steamer, killing their own people on the principle of the scorpion which attacks itself when in imminent danger of death. Numbers of Chinese were swimming, and were slain in the water; a few were saved, with three or four Europeans, by the Japanese and by a French vessel which came upon the scene, but the vast majority perished.

I learned these details afterwards; at the time the noise and shouting, the crackling of the machine-guns and the rifle fire, were most bewildering, and how I managed to keep afloat and unharmed is to me, even now, astonishing. Had I not been perfectly at home in the water I think I must have drowned from sheer nervousness; the exertion itself would have exhausted me before the boat came and rescued me. As it proved, I kept my head and my life-belt.

Then I saw the unlucky Fêng Shui rise up a little, roll a bit, and plunge down by the stern suddenly, carrying hundreds of living, wounded, and dead Chinese into the vortex of the Yellow Sea. The Naniwa had struck a decisive blow in the war. Then my mind sprung back to the evening on which I had been rescued by Captain Goldheugh from the sinking yacht, in which I had dreamed of a sinking steamer attacked by a man-of-war, amid steam and the roar of artillery. Was this prophetic?

I SAW THE UNLUCKY FÊNG SHUI PLUNGE DOWN BY THE STERN SUDDENLY

A murmur of strange voices aroused me for I swam mechanically, as I ascertained later, in the direction of the Japanese cruiser. I raised my head, and perceived a large boat closing upon me gently. A word of command; I was seized and dragged on board the launch amid the Japanese crew, and to my delight I perceived Mr. Rose, the mate of the steamer. There were some other boats afloat with Japanese and Chinese occupants, but the former fired upon the latter at every opportunity.

We were carried to the Naniwa and, I am glad to say, well treated by our captors, who supplied our wants, and those of the others rescued. We received no apologies, however, though food and dry clothing were supplied. The captain also was rescued by another boat, but we did not "chum" with him; and we found that a sentry had been placed at the doors of the cabins respectively, to avoid and prevent any comparisons of our treatment.

During the evening we were asked separately many questions, and desired to make a statement to the captain of the cruiser. At eight bells we anchored for the night, and I slept thankfully till the morning.

*****

Very early in the morning of the next day I was awakened by the noise of a brief and sharp conversation outside the cabin wherein I was lying. There was a sound of firearms, a clash of a sword, and in the dawning light I perceived a young officer advancing from the door.

Impulsively I arose, bracing myself for an encounter, but the ambassador was on peace intent. He was my young friend the midshipman to whom I had been of some assistance at Shanghai. He began directly, without any preface.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Julius? I have been thinking about you, and have ventured to see you. What are your plans?"

"I have no plans. My captain and mate are prisoners, and I am in custody," I replied. "Why ask a prisoner what his plans are?"

He put up his hand deprecatingly, and shook his head.

"You are not a captive," he replied; "at least only until we can restore you and your officers to the British ships. Your captain will return to Nagasaki, I believe, and thence to Hong Kong, perhaps. But if you have liberty to remain, why not stay with this ship?"

"Enlist in the Japanese navy?" I exclaimed.

"Not enlist; join us. My uncle is commander here now, and he is already pleased with you, and grateful for your assistance to me. He himself has suggested your joining the ship. You were intended for the English navy, you said; and you may do us the honour of accepting the offer."

I made no immediate reply. The suggestion was pleasant to my ears. Perhaps I might volunteer if Captain Goldheugh had no objection.

"Well?" asked the young Japanese. "I must request a reply, as my watch will be called at eight bells."

"Yes; I will volunteer if my captain will permit me. But must I actually join your service?"

"I presume not. The idea is merely one to enable you to see some service, and I am certain you will be a credit to the Naniwa."

He bowed and smiled. I jumped up and responded.

"You are too kind, Tomi," I said. "Please tell your most honourable uncle that I will, if permitted, be most happy to join his ship, though he nearly drowned us in the Fêng Shui."

"That would have been a misfortune," said Tomi.

"The steamer was always unlucky," I replied. "Her very name is a reproach, and the captain changed it to Kowshing."

"Which was even a greater ill-luck. But I am on duty. We weigh at four o'clock this morning. I will tell the commander of you."

He retired quickly. The time was passing, and the hands were about to weigh anchor. Before I had finished dressing in the sailor's clothes, with which home-made (Japanese) attire we had all been supplied, a message came for me, and I was released politely from the surveillance to that time observed. At this point I may say that all the officers and men, and later the Japanese ashore, treated us all most kindly. But all the same I think that in war they would be most formidable antagonists, because they "go" for their aim at once, risking all for country; even killing themselves if they do not succeed as they intend to do, and they spare neither themselves nor their opponents, not even to the farther verge of cruelty, if aroused.

But I did not know so much of the Japanese character then, and I admire it still. In all my dealings with them—and I have met many influential Japanese and others—I have found them polite and courteous, with a fine tendency to business, and to "take the turn of the market" for themselves.

Soon after eight bells the warship weighed anchor, and I was permitted to go on deck amidships, or forward of the bridge, and while I was gazing alongside my midshipman friend accosted me.

"Your captain is aft," he said. "Perhaps you would like to see him."

"Is he a prisoner?" I asked, as I gazed at a Chinese gunboat close by, which had been captured when conveying despatches. "What's that vessel?"

"She's a Chinese boat, Tsaokiang," replied my friend Tomi. "We have caught her, and shall send her captain and crew with your officers in the transport. You can visit your captain if you wish."

This was my desire, and accordingly I proceeded astern, under escort and by permission, to the cabin in which Captain Goldheugh was interned. He welcomed me gladly from his cot.

"Ah! my son, so ye've got free of the Japs, have ye? Sure I'm still in limbo, though I must say the fellows are civil enough. We're steaming to the rendezvous, I'm told."

"Yes, sir. I came to ask your permission to stay on board here."

I rushed at my fence, you see, and yet in trepidation when I realised the obstacles.

"What!" exclaimed the captain. "Remain on board the Jap's cruiser with the fellows who smashed us into smithereens, and made a 'holy show' of the Fêng Shui? Bedad, a March hare isn't in the same run with ye. He's mad this time, anyway," concluded the captain. "Stark and staring! Are those straws in your hair?"

"No," I replied, smiling, yet nervously. "The fact is the captain of this ship has offered me a berth, and"—

"By the powers o' Moll Kelly this beats the world!" cried the captain, relapsing into native idiom. "The Jap captain offers ye a berth. Ah, go out o' that! He wants ye to take the cruiser into action, so he does! That's what he means. Well, well," he sighed resignedly, "look at that!"

He nodded his head up and down three times, as if perfectly, but unwillingly, resigned. I felt smaller by degrees.

"All right, admiral," he said suddenly. "By all manner o' means. Won't I make them proud at home when I tell them that the young runaway is the admiral of the Naniwa—what's that mean? In Ireland 'Nanny' is an old nurse—and she here is your wet-nurse, bedad! Oh, it's grand entirely, your honour!"

This affectation of manner puzzled me. The captain was "putting on" this, I perceived.

"If you object, sir," I began.

"Is it me object! Not at all! Go and leave your ship—she's left ye—and your friends. What for?" he asked suddenly and almost fiercely. "What d'ye want to do?"

"To serve in the Japanese navy," I said, "as a volunteer, and see some service for a while. The captain here has told his nephew, who asked me to tell you too."

"The dog began to bite the pig, the pig began to go, and the old woman (that's me) begins to get over the stile. I see! Well, do as ye like, Julius, my boy, I'll not stop ye."

"Really? Oh, you are kind, captain! Still, if you order me"—

"Ah! go on! Ye won't stay long I expect. But if ye do it will do ye good. I don't understand why the captain of the ship has made ye the offer, but as he has, and ye are already dressed up in Japanese clothes, maybe he wants to see whether ye're worth your salt! All right, Admiral Julius, 'Go where Glory waits ye,' as Tommy Moore says, and 'when Fame elates thee, then remember me,' that's all. Here's the lieutenant."

The officer came in, we saluted, and the captain accepted the polite invitation to breakfast by and by, and the lieutenant retired.

"Now, admiral, quit, if ye please, as I'm going to 'draw on my stockings,' and—dress myself. I suppose ye'll breakfast in the cabin, while I am pigging in the ward-room. Be off, I tell ye! Don't stand there staring like a stuck pig. Hurry, now!"

I obeyed, feeling that the captain was annoyed, but my feelings of adventure rose in me, and as he had consented, however unwillingly, I decided to assume his acquiescence in the matter, but he apparently feared the future.

There was another interview with my captain afterwards, and a chat with the mate and others, who subsequently were transferred to the transport Yayayama with the Danish gentleman,—also a captive from the despatch boat,—the Chinese crews of it, and the surviving soldiers of the Fêng Shui. I need not dwell upon the parting. I felt sorry to leave my messmates, but against this feeling came the knowledge that I was adrift already, and must go to Nagasaki first, then find conveyance to China and perhaps to Europe. I had no money, and no chance of finding any then. My parents, particularly my dear mother, would be much more pleased to receive a telegram announcing my entry into the Japanese service, than a wire for money and announcing shipwreck! The captain (Goldheugh) had promised to write about me, and I found out afterwards that not only had he done so, but had spoken well of me to Captain Toyo of the Naniwa.

The Tsaokiang, which had appeared before the sinking of the steamer, was a prize to the Maya; and all her officers and crew having been transferred as indicated above, the Yayayama steamed away for Japan. I remained in the cruiser while she sent boats to search for the fugitive Chinese vessel, which had fled away ashore. She was found and destroyed by the Japanese boats' crews as she lay beached.

Then the cruisers joined the fleet, and war was declared on the 1st August 1894, "after the ball" at Phungdo.

CHAPTER IX

THE BATTLE IN THE YELLOW SEA—THE EVIL
GENIUS OF "FÊNG SHUI"

It would not be interesting to the reader to peruse the details of our cruise off the Chinese and Corean coasts after the declaration of war till the middle of September, but a passing reference to the actions of the squadron may be made.

The fleet was under the command of Admiral Ito,[[1]] who later made an attack on Port Arthur and Wei-hai-Wei, which are opposite each other in the Gulf of Pechili, the latter port being in Shangtung, and the former in Manchuria, North China. The admiral did not communicate his ideas to many people, but it leaked out in the fleet that he was keeping the Chinese in check while his transports were carrying the Japanese troops to Corea. Meantime the Chinese fleet remained in harbour at Wei-hai-Wei, and the Coreans assisted the Japanese troops. So the Chinese soldiers were marching southwards, and the Japanese northwards, the respective fleets being in the Yellow Sea.

[[1]] Now "Marquis" Ito, Prime Minister of Japan.

The Yalu River separates China from Corea, and by that entrance the Chinese came by sea, the land forces came from Manchuria. The Japanese from Chemulpo, Gensan, and Fusan, the fleet having left the Taidong River, which is across the peninsula, opposite to Gensan, cruised along the Corean shore searching for transports; and the Naniwa, in which I was, was one of the First Flying Squadron, composed of four ships, Yoshino, Naniwa, Akitsushima, and Takachiho.

This was the arrangement in September when, on the 16th of the month, we left Taidong River, our division being commanded by Rear-Admiral Kozo in the Yoshino. The main squadron, commanded by Vice-Admiral Ito Sukahiro, was inclusive of the flagship Matsushima and five other ships, with a couple of small vessels of no great importance.

While in Corea I managed to get a kit and outfit, and though feeling strange in my new surroundings, I was treated well, and in a most friendly manner as an Englishman. Many of my messmates in the fleet had been to England, and some had studied there, so they knew that a naval cadet was not an upstart, and if he were he would be quickly brought to his bearings. At anyrate I got on very well with the Japanese officers and "subs," though the crew were not so friendly.

"When shall we find the Chinese fleet?" I asked one day, when after cruising about not even a trail of smoke had been visible. But the reply was a half shrug and a smile; no one knew when, but everybody was evidently impatient. All were prepared for action,—well disciplined and trained. The admiral had confidence in officers and men, and they obeyed orders calmly and smilingly; and if they looked unenergetic, and at times listless, they quickly "perked up" when "business" was "toward."

It seemed to me curious that the ships had not fallen in with the Chinese as everyone anticipated. Every "Jack"-Jap was full of fight, strong language (not swearing), and disdain of the Chinese. But we ascertained that the astute John had landed his soldiers in transports, under the protection of his warships, while the Japanese fleet had been temporarily refreshing themselves in the Taidong River. The Chinese on the 16th September landed their troops at the Yalu, and returned home thence—at least they started back homewards across the Yellow Sea.

The Japanese vessels made for Hai-yang, a large island off the Manchurian Peninsula, and considerable irritation was displayed when the lookouts declared that no Chinese ships were in sight. The chief officers were on the bridge or in the tower, and as the morning wore on and nothing appeared, the disappointment increased.

Suddenly a hail startled some of us, and the Japanese smile widened.

"What's the news?" I asked my neighbour.

He could not reply in English, but pointed to the horizon over the port-bow. We were proceeding under easy steam, the day was fine and pleasant, and I managed to make out a darkening or smudge upon the horizon in the north-east.

"Smoke!" I exclaimed aloud. "The Chinese ships, I expect."

My Japanese friend at that moment came up to announce to me the great news. The Chinese fleet was approaching!

Then the discipline of the Japanese sailor was observed. At once, at the word "beat to quarters," every man and officer was in his place, and the proper arrangements were made for disposing of the wounded and supplying ammunition. In fact, so far as I could ascertain at the time, and subsequently by inquiry and reading, the condition of the Japanese navy is equal to that of any European nation, if it is deficient in the size of the men and in numbers. The cool and yet defiant manner of the crew struck me greatly, and all the vessels went into action like bulldogs.

The day was beautifully fine, with a calm, almost quiet, blue sea, over which twenty vessels at least were approaching each other. In the arrangements I was in a measure overlooked, and kept out of sight of the officers as much as possible, watching ahead. All the ships had cleared for action and beat to quarters. Eight bells,—noon.

There's a signal! I wondered what it meant, but I soon saw the object of it. The flagship Matsushima was quickly making the arrangements, and our ship, with three others, was commanded to proceed to attack the Chinese. These "flyers" steamed ahead, the Yoshino in advance, against the great Chinese ironclads, ten or twelve immense vessels, of different sizes and speed, like the Japanese, but two of the Chinese ships, named Lai-yuen and Ching-yuen, came first, the rest extending behind them like wildfowl.

As the four Japanese vessels went on they did not fire. Then a most fearful roar arose in front, a mile off, and the sea became alive with spray and jets of water.

"Shell-fire," whispered my friend as he passed, carrying an order below astern. Shells! I had heard of shell-firing, but never had expected to see it. The sea was torn up all around the Japanese as they steamed swiftly on, but certainly our vessel was not hit, and I did not see any man touched.

But soon after all the vessels began, and such a fearful din and such a pall of smoke it is impossible to describe properly. The concussion of the big guns deafened me, the spitting of the smaller ones irritated me; and yet we passed the enemy with little damage to the Naniwa, and without a single casualty amid the crew. If anyone had told me at the time that the ship would escape serious injury I would have derided him.

Now, how shall I describe this naval battle, as I am not one of those wonderful correspondents who see everything at once, and that amid the smoke and thunder and crashing of shot and guns and shells, 'mid the shouts and cries of victory and the shrieks of the dying, or the more ghastly wounded? I could see the other ships coming up behind us in our wake, the Naniwa was the last ship of the leading squadron, and the Chinese phalanx advanced, firing steadily and punishing us. I heard fearful thuds and crashes beside me, and saw, amid the white and murky smoke of the guns, flames shooting up and flashes from the broadsides and tops of our opponents.

I sheltered myself as much as possible, and waited while the heavy smoke drifted away slowly. We could see signals above it, astern, from the flagship, and I was thankful when our speed carried us on beyond the Chinese vessels, though the din and the smoke became more fearful each moment. I had no real idea, or rather had no idea of the reality, of war. I had read of sailors seeing cannon-shot coming towards them, and of others ducking before shells; but I saw no missiles, and, until I saw the result, did not know where to look for them.

After passing the Chinese ships, and firing like demons until the ship actually quivered on the glassy water, we all—I mean the first four vessels—left the enemy on the starboard quarter, and turned to port. We had passed thus along in front of, and to the starboard side of, the Chinese, and now, in response to signals, rounded back, starboarding the helm, and came behind the advancing Chinese, having driven the small vessels away to the north.

Then the conflict began again for us, while the main squadron were attacking in front. I could perceive that some of our ships were getting badly hurt. One of the Japanese vessels came through the Chinese line most bravely, but came out shattered and in flames. Her bulwarks were smashed, and her deck shambles enveloped in fire, as she had met two Chinese dragons, veritable monsters, iron-cased.

Then we came in behind the main squadron, as the Chinese swept on and round to starboard to cut off our stragglers, and the main line of our ships came on on their quarters and gave them none. The "Rising Suns," their rayed naval ensigns, blowing out in the draught—for there was little wind—advanced with deadly intent, the flags floating proudly amid the smoke and flames.

Close came the fire, and still closer, as the Japanese "circled" in two divisions, and in opposite directions, around the Chinese ships. Shells crashed and shot thundered, bullets whizzed and sang in all directions, and over all the flame-streaked smoke of guns and furnaces poured out and hung upon the scene, as if to conceal man's awful passions and fierce conflicts. Through this Gehenna we rushed at great speed, tossing the water upon our sterns and bows, to leave it seething astern jotted with plunging shot.

One Chinese vessel, in particular, I noticed, which was most fearfully punished. We dosed her well, and passing on saw her sinking slowly, certainly, her decks battered and bathed in blood, her dead and wounded left, and her living crew shouting for the aid which never could come, as the ship heeled over and sank helplessly, the cries of the doomed Chinese being audible even above the fearful roar of the opposing guns.

ONE CHINESE VESSEL WAS MOST FEARFULLY PUNISHED

We, the Naniwa's, continued our chase of two Chinese ships for a while longer, and would have destroyed them willingly had not our captain seen a signal of recall. As he had both eyes—and not one blind side—he was compelled by discipline to return to the main squadron. It was then about half-past three p.m. In all these encounters the Naniwa, being last in the line, did not receive any damage, nor did I see a dead or severely injured man.

But when we came near the flagship I learned what war was.

We had come back as ordered at full speed to the main body, and found them all in full conflict, the terrible effects of the heavy guns being visible to the unaided eye, and the shells were still causing flames to break out in the opposing ships. One of the big Chinese ships tried to ram us, and we had a narrow escape. I ran forward to my young Japanese friend, and stood by him. But the ships made such a tremendous attack upon her that she was almost helpless.

"Suppose she had rammed us?" I said nervously to my friend.

"We should have been picked up," he replied carelessly; and this cool reply from a Japanese lad is deserving of mention. It was worthy of a young Nelson, who in such surroundings could quietly contemplate the sinking of the ship, in full assurance that his mates would pick up all they could even in the midst of the battle.

This faith was justified in some degree, for the great Chinese ship was shot through. Time after time the Japanese shot and shell struck her, battered her, splintered and dinted her. Her inner fittings must have been shattered, and her guns dismounted. Still she persevered. She pluckily retaliated until we perceived she was listing to starboard more and more, her port-side being less exposed. She was sinking.

Sinking! Yes, I could see she was settling amid the smoke, and she herself in flames. An awful sight! We, with other ships, kept our circular course around the poor vessel; it seemed cowardly. She was burning fiercely; great masses of smoke rose up and drifted over the ships, and yet she did not strike, but fought it out, until at length, blazing, she plunged suddenly down, and slowly disappeared, hissing at her enemies, shrouding them in what seemed a deep shadow after the brightness of flame. It was like the sudden sunset on the sea.

Then I felt almost sick and angry with my friends. The fearful destruction of life which I had witnessed made me feel "bad," and savage too. I was curiously placed, and was debating with myself, when a great shell, and then another, from the big guns of the Chinese flagship came plump upon the Japanese flagship. No one, I think, who has not witnessed the effect of modern artillery can conceive of the destruction which these two shells caused in the ship attacked. My reflections were suddenly banished.

Fancy a mass of metal discharged into a warship's steel armour, and bending it, shattering it, smashing the gun behind the shield, and dashing on almost unchecked, plunging almost into the magazine, exploding the ammunition near it, and killing all there. Then, not satisfied, it set fire to the ship, which burned for a long time. The other shell apparently had made a big hole in the port-side, by the lower deck, struck upwards to the opposite side, and sent a gun overboard, or tumbled it below. The loss of life was tremendous; about eighty killed and wounded by these two discharges alone, besides the other damage done by the explosion of the quick-firing ammunition which lay around. Had the fire thus caused reached the magazine, the Matsushima's career must have ended then and there, and the Japs would have had to lament a terrible loss in their admiral. As it was the guns had to be manned by marines and recruits afterwards.

But the Ping-yuen, which had done this damage, was also seriously injured and "fired." Had not other ships come to her assistance, I think she must have been destroyed. Thus the battle raged until the Chinese, outmanoeuvred, separated themselves from their enemy and dispersed.

The evening was by this time closing in. It was already five o'clock. The great Chinese ironclads continued the contest as long as possible, their action being directed by the German officer—the same, I was given to understand, who had been released with the passengers in the Kowshing. Why this German soldier was intrusted with the control of the Chinese squadron was one of the topsy-turvy "Celestial" decisions which happen in China, where the admiral himself had served in a military capacity.

The firing slackened. The Japanese ships had quite outmanoeuvred their opponents, and at length they steamed away from the fatal circle on which the "Rising Suns" threw a lurid light. The circling vessels moving to the attack in opposite directions gave the Chinese no quarter; the latter became confused and fought independently, while the Japanese, as I can testify, kept touch with each other, and implicitly obeyed the signals of Admiral Ito.

So the Chinese fleet was crumpled up, the great ironclads alone displayed confidence, and they, at dusk, retreated, followed by the Japanese at a respectful distance, fearing torpedoes, of which the Japs had not one in action, having left their boats in harbour.

At six o'clock the battle was ended. Then, while slowly pursuing the enemy, the doctor's report was presented. To my unbounded astonishment the Naniwa had absolutely not one man reported dead or even wounded. No doubt there were some contusions, but the hands assembled later, and not a man was missing at quarters.

As soon as I could, I joined my young Japanese friend and engaged him in conversation.

"Have the Chinese cut and run?" I asked, after some few remarks and congratulations had passed. "What shall we do now?"

"Pursue them. You perceive we are following them in a parallel course. They will take shelter in Wei-hai-Wei."

"But has not some change taken place in the ships. I see the flagship has been doing something."

"Your eyes are pretty smart," he replied. "The admiral has transferred the flag to the Hashidate. The Matsushima requires repair, and is lying up for Japan. We have gained a victory."

As if to accentuate his declaration, at that moment the admiral appeared upon the deck of the Hashidate, amid lights, and cheering, marines presented arms, and all the crew uncovered dark heads in the dying daylight. From ship to ship the cheering spread, and speeded many brave souls to heaven in the excitement attendant upon the martial strains of the solemn "Kimi-ga-yo," the National Anthem. Far over the now quiet sea, and amid the still evening air, the music died away in the distance. The lusty singing accompanied by the band made all pulses beat as fiercely as in action; and as a good omen a falcon flew down and perched upon the Takachiho.

"Look, look!" cried my friend. "The falcon alights. He rests upon the main topsail-yard of the ship. Surely someone will capture it?"

"Not very likely," I replied, "unless it is tired or tame it will quickly escape. We shall not be able to ascertain at anyrate till the morning. What a curious incident!"

"It means good luck," said my friend. "For hundreds of years our philosophers have agreed that the falcon brings good fortune to the Japanese. So this is a splendid omen for us, and a bad one for our enemies."

"I am pleased that I am a friend, then," I replied, laughing. "The bird, I hope, has nothing evil in store for a volunteer."

"I do not think so," he replied, joining in my humour. "But here's something to interest us both," he continued, as a marine approached and saluted.

A few sentences were exchanged, and my young friend turned to me, saying—

"Here's an opportunity for a volunteer. Do you understand the Chinese language?"

"I can make myself understood in it, a little," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because someone has suspected you of being a spy," he replied. "You must see the captain at once, and explain matters to him. One of the officers has sent me the message; I must speak to the lieutenant. Wait here for me; someone has been talking about you. Wait a while."

Then he went aft, leaving me to think of this new misfortune. The trail of "Fêng Shui" was over it all.

CHAPTER X

A TRANSFORMATION SCENE—I BECOME A "CHINESE"

While I ruminated upon this most unexpected incident, my ears were almost insensible of the shouts and singing, the cries of "Nippon Banzai!"—Japan for ever!—the music, and the general enthusiasm. Who had been so base as to state that I was a Chinese spy? Perhaps one of the crew who had rescued me from the sinking steamer, and had noticed me in the company of the German officer, a well-known adherent of the Chinese. If so, my fate was sealed. The yardarm on which the falcon had perched appeared to me to be my ultimate destination, or to suggest it. The more I ruminated upon my prospects, the less I liked them.

Meantime the Naniwa pursued her course, the lookouts keeping a most careful watch for torpedoes. I kept an equally anxious watch for the midshipman.

At length he returned, having had an interview with the captain. His expression puzzled me, because it gave me no assurance of relief, and yet did not suggest despair.

"Well?" I asked, as soon as he came within speaking distance. "Am I to be boiled in oil?" This was an attempt at levity which my heart did not respond to.

"No, not yet," was the alarming answer. "But you will have to leave the ship."

"Leave the ship? Why?"

"Because you must. A rumour has arisen about you, and the men do not regard you with favour. An opportunity will occur to put you ashore, and then you will be landed with others."

"Then you think me a traitor!" I exclaimed. "I swear I am not! Why, you must know yourself that I an Englishman and honest."

"Yes; I said so."

"Won't the captain believe you, then? What can he think of you?"

"He believes me, certainly."

"Hang me if I understand you!" I exclaimed irritably. "What is the fuss about? What is to be done? Let me know the worst?"

"The fact is as I said: you will be sent ashore. You understand some Chinese?"

"But the dialects differ. Surely your clever captain knows that?"

"Yes; and there lies the point. Four men—our men—are going ashore. They are interpreters of the fleet. The men have an idea that you are mixed up with the Chinese. So the captain thinks it better to send you ashore with the interpreters, who intend to search the places and report upon the country."

"Really, your captain is very kind, but I can't travel in China as a Japanese, or perhaps as an Englishman in your service."

"No," replied my friend calmly. "You must go as a Chinese."

"A Chinese? Play the spy, you mean? Never!"

"Then you may be shot; because the impression amongst the crew, as reported, is hostile to you."

"But the captain can settle that. What's the use of his being captain if he can't quench this falsehood—if he wishes?"

"His wishes are not concerned, his ship is; and his orders are to land you with the explorers from the fleet. No one will harm you in our service, because you shall have a permit. When you meet the army you will be safe."

"But why not put me aboard a British vessel? There are several in these seas. That is the most sensible plan. Ask the captain that?"

"I am afraid his mind is made up on the subject. If you had not been suspected of Chinese inclinations, you might have got sent away easily. You rather favoured the Chinese, you remember?"

I then recalled some expressions I had used after my release on board the Naniwa respecting the conduct of the Japanese ships in respect of the steamer Kowshing. These remarks must have been heard and commented upon. I felt annoyed, and said—

"Then I quite believe there are Japanese spies on board. When am I to clear out?"

"When opportunity occurs," the young man replied, rather coldly. "You need not think you are under arrest meanwhile."

"Thank you," I said; "I will try to deserve the clemency."

Then he left me to my reflections, and I remained staring at the sea, and thinking of the future, until the hour and the change of the watch warned me to seek my hammock.

We had sighted nothing during the night, and in the morning the smoke of the retreating warships was all we discerned. Whether the Japanese squadron had had enough fighting I cannot say. At anyrate, the admiral did not hasten the pursuit, he returned in the direction of Talien Bay.

The combined squadron now discovered some remnants of the encounter of the day before, at which "all hands" gazed with satisfaction and interest. As we advanced to Hai-yang Island the distant smoke of some steamer caused the admiral to despatch a cruiser to intercept the vessel, but whatever she was she escaped. My interest in the chase, and in the general surroundings, was keen, because I knew not what fate might befall me; and if the steamer had been a Britisher I might have been transferred to her.

But no such luck was mine. As I gazed around the ship, and realised the effects of the action, and recalled the remembrance of it, I felt depressed. The roar, the smoke, the flames, and the rattle of the great fight had all died away and disappeared. The heavy black pall of smoke which had shrouded the vessels had been lifted long before, and nothing but a stranded Chinese vessel and fragments of the encounter remained.

A signal fluttered, and the Chiyoda was sent upon its ghoulish errand to destroy the wreck of the stranded ship. This proved to be the Yang Wei, which had run aground. A torpedo effected the desired result, and shattered the vessel to atoms, after which brilliant episode the Chiyoda came pelting up to the squadron again. Then the whole array proceeded to the anchorage, where some of the disabled Japanese ships had repaired. There we ascertained that the falcon which had flown on board the Takachiho had been easily secured, and placed in a cage; and when, later, one of the imperial chamberlains came to convey the Mikado's congratulations to the admiral and the fleet, the bird was committed to his charge for conveyance to the Emperor. I heard, long afterwards, that the bird was named after the cruiser, and was then living in the imperial aviary at Tokio.

However, this is by the way. My personal adventures were at the time much more interesting to me, and yet I was neither kept in bondage nor for a while put ashore. But one day the verdict was delivered, the sentence pronounced, and my farewell was made. The circumstances were as follows:—

A lieutenant came into the berth with my friend, and by him I was informed that I must prepare for departure. We had been acting as escort to a number of transports in Japanese waters, and any chance of escape had been carefully prevented. So when the lieutenant came in with his interpreting junior, I was almost pleased to meet them and hear my fate, though it was tinged with despair. Anything then appeared to me better than submission to the polite suspicions to which I had lately been enduring, and even thus my position as an Englishman and a sailor preserved for me a greater degree of toleration than would have been granted to most other foreigners. The recital of my adventures and training, particularly my rescue of the young Japanese officer, pleaded in my favour; but the rumours from the forecastle, which had penetrated to the ward-room, compelled attention, and in war-time any underhand practices, if only suspected, always bring disaster.

The fleet, as I have said, had for some time patrolled the Manchurian coast, seeking for a landing-place for the lately raised army, of which Marshal Oyama was appointed general-in-chief. The division had landed in Corea near the Taidong River, and thither the men-of-war proceeded when the arrangements for the disembarkation had been concluded.

It was on the 23rd October that the whole array of transports, escorted by a number of warships, left the river; and next day, an eventful day for me, they anchored off the Manchurian coast at some little distance from shore, in thick and misty weather. All hands were alert, though nothing had occurred to alarm us, but when the vessels became discernible from the shore some excitement was manifested, because the natives had never seen such an array of force, and could not believe in its advance. They knew the water was shallow, and though their junks could come in, and lie at ease under the shadow of the hills, the great vessels would be wrecked, they knew.

The Naniwa had anchored when the two officers came to the berth in search of me, and made the final proposition, as I anticipated. My young friend interpreted the decision.

"The captain and officers," he said, "have no alternative in this matter, though I am instructed to say that in their opinion you have not willingly transgressed nor plotted against his Imperial Majesty. Therefore they offer you the opportunity to go ashore with our scouts, and to act with them. Will you accept the offer?"

"Pray accept my thanks for the courtesy. But what if I decline it?"

"Then you will be dealt with in a more severe manner."

I paused before I replied to this. My temper rose, and I felt that any dispute was to be avoided. Still I could not withhold a protest.

"Your captain can, of course, hang me, but I am perfectly innocent. Cannot he send me aboard some American or British ship?"

"We have no means of doing so," he replied, when this renewed demand had been translated. "You must decide at once, and, if you do accept the offer, make your preparations."

"Well then, I must accept, I suppose. What preparations do you refer to?"

"You must appear as a Chinese, and accompany the interpreters ashore, and bring back the intelligence to the Commander-in-Chief."

I was staggered. My heart beat loudly. Was this Japanese method? Then the punishment was really intended to fit the supposed crime. I was accused of being a spy. The Japanese would make me one in fact! This was carrying the war into the enemy's country with a vengeance.

"Impossible!" I gasped. "I cannot. You surely will not compel me to play the spy?"

The lieutenant perceived my indignation, and said something to the junior officer.

"You must decide quickly," he said. "The troops will soon be landed."

This was a form of speech which I discounted. The vessels were miles away from shore.

"Who will be my companions? and shall I be treated well?"

"Certainly. One of your associates can speak French, you can also speak a little Chinese. They will be told that you are an English correspondent of a newspaper. You sketch?"

"A little."

"Then your arrangements will be easily made. You will go as a traveller, as many of your compatriots have already done in Asia-Minor and farther East. Put aside the idea of 'spy,' sir; think of your safety only. You will be a traveller, and can move as you please."

"You do not expect me to return?"

"No, indeed! Pardon me, we want to get rid of you."

I smiled faintly. "Very well," I said. "How can I find the dress?"

"Very easily. You shall see. This is settled then?"

"Decidedly!"

"That is good. The captain will supply you with cash, and give you a pass to roam as you please; but the Chinese may interfere with you."

"You will give me a revolver?"

"Yes; and plenty of ammunition. A knife may be useful—or sword."

"Perhaps; but why a sword?"

"To kill yourself, if necessary, and save yourself torture," replied the young man calmly, as he retreated in the wake of his superior.

I shuddered, and stood staring after them as they ascended to the deck; then followed them, and looked around me once again on the Yellow Sea. It had never warranted its name before in my eyes. It did then.

We were anchored off a village almost as primitive as some in Cornwall; and the sandy beach, the cliffs, and the more distant hills, somehow reminded me of England, though the junks destroyed the illusion, and the costume of the astonished natives dissipated any resemblance to the sturdy west-country fishers of my own land. I wondered how the troops would manage to embark; but I soon perceived a party of Japanese had landed in a small boat, and had planted a flag on one of the hills.

As we were all watching them, some soldiers quitted one of the transports, and then the ships, in obedience to a signal, moved in closer, feeling their way, and steering "for the flag" on the hill. The soldiers had included a party of engineers, and after a while they began a long pontoon-bridge in the shallow water, to land the artillery and horses. I was intensely interested in the calm and deliberate manner in which the Japanese set to work. They had apparently no fear of interruption by the enemy, for I saw some of the men-o'-war, scouting in the offing, capturing a few junks, and finally a small steamer, which proved a great assistance in towing and landing troops and supplies.

These arrangements were not made nor completed in a day, nor in ten. I think a fortnight elapsed before I was once more warned for service, and a complete suit of Chinese dress procured for me.

My young mentor brought it to me below.

"Here is your uniform," he said; "your travelling dress. Don't look so angrily at me," he continued; "indeed I cannot help it."

This pacified me somewhat, and after all the change was nothing more extraordinary than Burton's. I began to perceive that the Japanese captain was, perhaps unwittingly, doing me a good turn, for some Englishmen were certain to turn up with the army, and with them I could be assured of protection. Unfortunately, I could not "have it out" with the captain, either to thank him, or to condemn.

The Chinese dress is so simple, that one wonders it is not adopted more generally. The night-suits and day-suits are almost identical, and the dress of ladies and gentlemen, in pattern and material, are almost alike. The trousers, tunic, or kirtle, need no decided measurement, for one measure is sufficient for each garment, as from hip to ankle, or from neck to the knees, as the case may be. In winter, wadding is quilted into the clothes, and several suits worn over the innermost, so that a man may be apparently stout until unrolled, or undressed. The suits wear for years, as the fashion of the Chinese passeth not away; and when the old suit is discarded, it is relegated to night-duty—goes on the "night-shift," as the miner says.

There was no difficulty in arraying me over my body-clothing in Chinese costume, and in a few minutes I was transformed into the outer semblance of a Chinaman with a crop of thick hair. The dresser then shaved my face, and made me up, and he began to shave my locks. This I resented, and was about to resist forcibly, until the young officer interfered and made peace.

At length I was attired, painted, and coiffe; my delicate skull was shaven; a long lock was retained, and to this a proper pigtail was by artifice attached. When this caudal appendage was fixed, and my whole appearance touched up, I caught sight of myself in a mirror, and, after a struggle with my pride, burst into a roar of laughter.

It was too ridiculous! The "coolie," butcher-blue suit, the queer shoes, the long sleeves, the wide trousers and loose tunic, made me feel as if dressed for a fancy ball, and my amusement was only checked by the presentation of the revolver and some cartridges. I was instructed to rely upon my chosen companion for all else, and for example. We were to travel in pairs, and I was to keep silent, as much as possible, for my own sake and his. My young friend, the middy, gave me several hints as to behaviour and manners, and my own experience dictated several more, which I could employ with advantage.

When my costume had been completed by a cap, I was taken on shore by the young officer, Tomi, and put under the care of a Japanese interpreter, who seemed to be a good sort of fellow. Tomi urged him, with much native eloquence, to be vigilant, and to look after the Englishman, who was one of those "crazy creatures" who risk their lives in the search of information. The Japanese apparently understood the nature of the animal. A Chinese would have thought me a lunatic, for even a man who hunts, or "sports" in any way, is regarded by Celestials as stupid. "They should get men to do all this for them," they say of the British athlete.

The natives were perfectly quiet, and we (the scouts) were directed to proceed across the isthmus, first along the coast to Putsewo, or Pittozo-wo, and thence across towards Fuchow. The former place is about twenty-eight miles from where we had landed, and in the direction of Port Arthur. The other two scouts were directed to proceed further in the direction of Kinchow, which is at the opposite side of the peninsula, where it is narrowest, there being only about two miles distance between the shores of Talien Bay and the Nan-Kua Pass. The peninsula then expands. Port Arthur occupies the eastern side in the bay, at the extremity.

My companion, named Hoyo, or Hoko, took a rather nervous farewell of the officer. Tomi clasped my hands, and repeatedly assured me that my life had been frequently in danger, and had I remained I must have fallen a victim to the enmity of the Japs. He again protested that he was for ever my debtor, and had even volunteered to accompany me in my expedition, but had been refused.

"Take this badge," he concluded, "it is a private token of a Japanese naval officer. If ever in the company of our fleet, or even with the army, and in trouble, produce it. It is the Emperor's gift, and will assure you of safety. Farewell!"

He wrung my hand, touched his cap, and turned away to the boat, while Hoko and I mounted the sandy shore which ascended beside the river Hua-yuan.

Thus I was again "dismissed" from naval service, and cast upon my own resources, and slender they were indeed!

CHAPTER XI

CHINESE LANGUAGE—"HELD UP"—BETRAYED!

We started in the gloaming, carrying small packs and some supplies, for we did not know whether the natives would suspect us, or assist us, even if they were not distrustful. Hoko "cheered me up" by relating slowly, for my benefit, the list of likely tortures which the Chinese practised upon the enemy. The list need not be recapitulated in full, but cutting-up (alive), beheading, and hanging, first by the heels, were amongst those most usually inflicted upon the prisoner, and perhaps the most "merciful."

My spirits were not thereby elated, and scarcely had we reached the road when a picket of Japanese soldiers accosted us. They were quickly satisfied by my companion, and laughed at us as we parted with them. This interview was succeeded by others, and in each case we got away safely. At our last halt Hoko consulted his map, and gave it to me to ponder in the lantern-light of the picket guards. Again we resumed our journey, and this party proved to be the last post of the Japs at that time. Thenceforward all was dark and unknown.

When we had proceeded a few miles, hunger assailed us, and after a short time we agreed, chiefly by signs, to rest in the glade into which we had wandered from the road. The Chinese tongue never seemed to me so wanting in expression as then. My command of language is not despicable in English, and on board ship; but in that glade in the society of the Japanese scout I felt kinder dumb! There was no need for silence. The Chinese language embraces about forty thousand strokes or letters (or signs rather) in writing; while only about three hundred and fifty are spoken. Hence the same spoken word represents a number of different—vastly different—things in writing; and the few hundreds of words represent so many more thousands of characters or signs! Even a Chinese may communicate with a friend in another province by writing; but he very likely will not understand his dialect.

The Chinese language, I may state, depends really upon the tones of voice, not upon the actual pronunciation of the words, and these tones are even increased in the Mongolian dialect. In Manchuria, perhaps, the bulk of the population is of Mongolian descent, a superior, a braver, race than the ordinary (I don't say "pure and simple") Chinaman—for "John" is not that. But practice and tone of voice will teach much; and this tone will entirely alter the sense of the speaker if he misapply it. In some languages one may speak by "ear." Ear is of no account in China. There are certain "radical signs" and a number of "primitive" signs; characters are made by combining both, and are written downwards.

As may be anticipated, I had not made much progress in the Chinese language, but I could chatter "pidgin" English, which is so useful in the Treaty ports, and so useless in China proper, which is arrived at by changing every "r" to "l" and adding the "e" doubled when it is single, as in "alle samee," "makee laugh," "alle samee Elopean man," "no wantchee." "Number one" means "proper," and "chop-chop" "quickly," in this language; while "play-pidgin" is merely "talk," and "top-side pidgin" is religion, or religious converse.

One soon becomes conversant with the business talk, for "pidgin" means "business" in the mind of the trader and the coolie (or labourer). But let me resume my narrative.

The night was very chilly, and the early morning misty, as my companion roused me up and told me that we must be going. Let it be remembered that our conversations were only carried on piecemeal, and when I mention them you must understand that signs assisted us greatly. But the man was honest, I believed, and had no thought of any treachery towards me. We conversed in southern dialect a little, and made signs.

We presently reached a river which I learned was called Pilu (or Pihliu), and proceeded to a small village where we got some food, which I did not relish, but had to eat in order to keep up my character. We learned that the invaders were expected, and that it would be better for us to keep away to the north-west, else we might get into trouble. We therefore assented, and passed on for a while, intending to change our route as soon as possible, but fate had ordained otherwise. My companion had intended to proceed in the direction of Putsewo, and then strike westward again, marching by a compass and map which I had secured in my tunic, but when we took the advice of the well-meaning villagers we left our former direction, and when again essaying to recover our route we came to grief. For a long time we wandered amidst the hills and rough country seeking a track, but finding nothing promising, until almost suddenly we descended a hillside and found ourselves near a rather substantial village, from which there was no escape without questioning from the natives.

Hoko quickly gave me to understand that I was his brother, that we were South Chinamen seeking a ship at Port Arthur, and that we had been north and intended to return to Chefoo.[[1]] We had rehearsed this little play before, and my South-China lingo was supposed sufficient to deceive the Mongolians. If necessary, my guide informed me, a little "geomaney," or "wind and weather" fortune-telling, would keep suspicion at bay. So, primed with a few simple maxims, I braced myself for the encounter.

[[1]] Chefoo or Chifu.—H.F.

The natives were decidedly of the race of Didymus. They did not credit half our assurance, and we—at least I—wished we had more of it. Certainly the interpreter remained as cool as possible, and his calm method of lying would have discredited Ananias of old, and deceived St. Peter himself. I give my impressions of the examination to which the interpreter was subjected.

"Your name?" demanded the chief of the villagers.

"Ho-wuh-Chang."

"Where do you come from?"

"Panchwang, in the province of Fuhkien."

"Where have you been?"

"At Takushan."

"Whither bound?

"Chefoo and Shanghai."

"Who is this man?"

Here the interpreter made a pretence of great reverence and respect, as he answered—

"My all-enlightened brother of Tau."

This reply drew attention to me, for Tau is the "priest" of Chinese theosophy or magic art, and is accordingly respected, for every Chinaman fears Tau, the more so as he has no idea what it is, any more than its votary. Tau is "The Right": what one cannot see, nor hear, nor seize. It is a kind of "Fêng Shui" in its essence, and Tau is the true Reason for all things in the universe, the Great Primitive Cause in the world, not a religious dogma.

The Tauist, then, becomes by inheritance, or profession, a kind of priest, a miracle-man, supposed to be versed in ancient lore, able to tell fortunes, and decide social questions with authority as regards the work and operations of nature, and "Fêng Shui"—the effects of wind and weather. Superstitious as the Chinese are, these attributes confer great authority upon the adherents and practice of the Tauists. Hence, if I was not found out, my companion concluded we should escape.

Unfortunately one of the villagers perceived the accent of the Japanese interpreter, and declared him a Corean! This at once gave cause of mischief, and my companion was searched, his small knapsack, or pack, was turned upside down, and all the while a rush of epithets assailed us both. I carried no pack, but had the compass and map and revolver in my possession. If the suspicious and antagonistic villagers had found those articles our fates would have been sealed, and a cruel death must have ensued.

While the natives were thus examining the Japanese, I was not molested, though several glances were directed at me, and some remarks made—which I did not notice. All the time I was endeavouring to discover some means whereby I could satisfy, if I could not alarm, the villagers, but for a while no idea appeared to my mind feasible. The pack had been examined, the Jap had been interrogated freely and rudely, and now my turn was approaching. Fortunately the villagers had been informed that I did not wish to be disturbed, but they had evident intentions of finding things out for themselves!

Luckily, I possessed one of the attributes of the Tauists, perhaps quite as sincere as theirs—the knowledge and anticipation of the ordinary phases of weather. The morning had been misty and almost frosty, and a change of wind, I noticed, had been causing a fog to arise. Hitherto it had been almost imperceptible even in the hills, the vale was clear; but while looking about me I noticed the vapour gradually creeping down the slopes behind the men who barred our way. My plan was quickly matured: the mist would serve us well. I remembered Fennimore Cooper, and the eclipse as adapted by Haggard in Solomon's Mines, and hoped for success.

I calmly approached my companion, and managed to give him a hint, in French, that he was to make me out a necromancer; thus I intended to play upon the fears of the natives, and he must back me up. Meantime, if we were attacked, I would shoot as many of the assailants as I could. My suggestions and gestures were understood, and when the natives advanced to search me, demanding some explanation, the interpreter motioned them to stand aside. He told them to be careful. I was a necromancer—one who had the weather "in the palm of his hand"; was related to the genii, and if I (and he) were interrupted further, and our peaceful progress barred, the immediate consequences would be serious, and the future disastrous for the village. Their graves would suffer, their families die; and I could change them themselves into stocks and stones, and cause them to disappear from the village. In fact, I could transform them! When once the Japanese Ananias had fully embarked upon the marvellous, his imagination carried him away more completely than ever the villagers could be. If we were properly treated, he added, money might be showered upon them!

While the interpreter was thus hoodwinking the villagers, one or two of whom seemed sceptical, I bethought me of a simple trick which I had practised in "parlour magic" at home. If the fog did not serve my purpose I could convince the natives, so I beckoned to the chief sceptic, and taking a piece of money from my wallet, which contained little of value, I placed the coin in his palm, pressing it firmly into the hand and closing the fingers. He looked pleased, and retired, keeping his fingers closely shut as directed; my "assistant" hinted if the man were unfriendly his coin would disappear, at which the villager called up a smile or grimace as a protest, evidently hypocritical, and his associates also watched him.

Seeing the gift, they came forward with much curiosity, and as I examined their features I found that some of the men were fairly honest, and a "tip" would not be thrown away upon them, though it must be merely a token, not a gift. So while bestowing these "tips" I kept my eyes upon the weather, and by the time I had given all the men small presents, as they fancied, but only a few of the most influential actually received money, the mist came rolling down thickly. To escape was now my intention.

It was rather amusing to see the party of men standing in a row helplessly with their right hands guarding the magic gifts thus bestowed by the "Tauist." The interpreter had already grasped the situation, and at my request desired the natives to turn at the necromancer's order, step ten paces, and open their hands. The order was impressed upon them by myself. I waved my hands and made as if impelling some invisible force to urge these simple superstitious men. They moved in obedience to my order, slowly, and when I had counted six, pausing between each number, the interpreter and I rushed away through the glade, and into the mist, which perhaps the Chinese may have fancied I had induced. The last I saw of my dangerous adherents was a line of stupid-looking men each gazing at his closed hand, and speculating upon what it contained for him.

I am afraid most of them were disappointed when they had released their grasps of the magic gifts, and they found money in only four palms, and those of the most influential of the party.

Meantime my faithful companion and I hurried away into the mist, which effectually shrouded us, and pursued a devious course, now and then halting to listen for the pursuers, for we did not doubt they would pursue us. But we heard nothing to alarm us, and made good progress when the mist lifted later.

We congratulated ourselves greatly upon this ruse, but it would not serve us again. I managed to explain the trick to the Japanese, who, when I had finished the laboured sentences, told me of some far more intelligent tricks which he had seen performed, and tried to explain them to me. But I was a very simple amateur in these matters, and could do little beyond the easy legerdemain of the drawing-room at home.

"It was a dangerous game," said Hoko, "and if any of the men meet us again they will kill us."

"But they won't catch us," I replied, with all the fine assurance of a sharp "hare" in the schoolboy paper chase. "We can turn, and return on our path. How do you propose to travel?"

"I am considering," he replied. "Please lend me the map and compass. It was well they did not search you, because you would have been killed. The map would have betrayed us."

"You can keep it," I said with great magnanimity. "By all means keep it. I can steer by the points of the heavens, and by my watch, and the sun and stars."

The Japanese nodded, and concealed the articles in his dress.

"The pistol?" he asked presently. "Is it ready?"

"Yes. I think I will keep it, thank you. Shall we continue our journey?"

He nodded again, and we proceeded cautiously for several miles, bending and twisting the route until we were both certain that we must have put miles between us and the enraged natives, whom I had some reason to fear notwithstanding my assumed influential character. The interpreter proposed a halt, and being hungry I gladly acceded; then, having eaten a few cakes and refreshed ourselves, we rested. I slept soundly for some time. When I awoke it was dusk, and I was alone! Alone! deserted! betrayed!

CHAPTER XII

ABANDONED!—I FALL AMONG THIEVES, BUT FIND
SOME "GOOD SAMARITANS"