CHAPTER XXVI--OF GREED OF GOLD
When they reached the junk, Ling was not able to ascend by means of therope up which he had swarmed so easily before. Frank went on deck, andfinding a rope ladder, lowered it over the side of the ship.
By means of this Ling climbed to the deck, whence he descended to thecabin below, where the paraffin lamp was still burning brightly.
He asked Frank to procure for him a bucket of river water; and whilstthe boy was absent, the man took off his coat and the thin under-vestthat he wore. The bullet had passed under his ribs, on the left side ofhis body. The wound, which was still bleeding profusely, was a great,ugly rent. When Frank returned with water he was at once shocked andastonished to observe the expression upon the man's face.
His features were pinched and drawn and haggard. The agony he sufferedhad caused deep lines to appear upon his forehead and about his mouth,and his eyes seemed to have sunk into his head. Beyond doubt, any otherman would have fainted; but Ling was possessed of something of thevitality of a cat. He was able to speak with difficulty, yet his mindwas perfectly clear. Assisted by the boy, he washed and dressed hiswound.
He had evidently small regard for antiseptics, for in place of lint andiodoform, he utilised ordinary ship's tow, which he held in place bymeans of a silk sash tied tightly round his waist. Then he orderedFrank to search the ship for opium.
The boy found a bowl of the treacle-like substance upon a table in thecabin. This he brought to Ling, together with an opium pipe and aspirit-lamp.
The man smiled, at the same time thanking the boy for his kindness.
"I am too far gone to smoke," said he. "I desire to be released frompain."
At that, he dipped his hand into the bowl and proceeded to eat thecontents. The boy stood by, amazed. He knew enough of the potency ofthe drug to believe that Ling had swallowed enough to kill himself. Heknew nothing, however, of the man's capacity for consuming poisonousdoses of morphine.
In a few minutes the drug began to work. His eyes, which had becomedull, grew brighter; the wrinkles slowly vanished from his face. Whenhe spoke, his voice was stronger.
"You may think," said he to Frank, "that the tables are turned, that youare now master of the situation. It may have occurred to you that youhave but to go into the other room to release your European friends, andthen it will be an easy thing to overpower a wounded man. I assure you,that is not the case."
"I had no such thought," said Frank.
Ling smiled again, regarding the boy even kindly--if such an expressionmay be used in regard to a man whose face was like that of a hawk.
"You are my friend," said he. "I know not why I like you. I think,because you are brave. I am not fool enough to believe for a momentthat you love me; but I am sure that you have always realised that I ama just man, whereas Cheong-Chau was no better than a fiend. I wouldhave you to understand--lest I be forced to harm you--that, wounded as Iam, I am still master of this ship and master of you. My strength isgoing rapidly from me, as the tide goes down upon the margin of the sea,or as the sun sets when the day draws to its close. But I can stillshoot, and if you play me false I shall kill you. Whilst the breath oflife is within me, you will be wise to obey my orders."
He got to his feet, and walking more briskly than before, ascended tothe upper deck, followed by Frank. There they hoisted the sail, andgoing to the forepart of the ship, hauled up the anchor. A minutelater, the junk was sailing slowly down the river in the starlight, Lingholding the tiller.
With a skill that proved that he had spent a portion of his life uponthe sea, he steered the junk into the narrow creek which had beenentered by the launch. There Ling, assisted by Frank, lowered agangway, conducting from the deck to the shore. The sail had beenhauled down and the ship secured by hawsers made fast to the trunks oftrees that grew upon the edge of the water.
Frank Armitage is never likely to forget that tragic night, its grimwork and pitiful conclusion. He was led by Ling to the Glade ofChildren's Tears--so named, perhaps, because, in a barbarous age, themurdered infants had been buried there, and the temple erected so thatmen might pray to the heathen gods of China for those young souls whohad passed so soon into the Celestial Kingdom.
The faint, cold light of the dying moon here and there pierced thebranches of the trees, so that it was possible to distinguish the oldmoss-clad ruins, the great fallen images, and the lifeless body of theman whose very name had once spread terror from the Nan-ling Mountainsto the sea. There was no sign of Tong; the man had evidently recoveredconsciousness and taken to his heels.
Frank stood by, a mute and wondering spectator of the fruitless effortsof the wounded giant. The air was heavy with the scent of the blossomwhich was on the trees; no sound disturbed the silence save the heavybreathing of Ling, becoming shorter and shorter as he worked, and theceaseless washing of the water against the river bank.
Ling walked to the centre of the glade. His gait was steady, though hisstride shorter than usual. He stood at his full height; and had he notonce or twice carried a hand to his left side, the boy might haveforgotten that the man suffered grievous pain and was weak from loss ofblood.
He stood for a moment, thinking. It may have been that then he prayedto the god he worshipped, the god of Confucius and Mencius and the sagesof all China: the Eternal Spirit of the Universe, the IncomprehensibleWisdom of the world.
Then he passed on to the great stone, which, not without difficulty, herolled from its place. That done, he descended into the vault below,where he struck a match, lighting a candle he had brought with him fromthe junk.
Frank, looking down, beheld a subterranean chamber, about five yards bysix in area, and not more than six feet deep--for Ling's head andshoulders protruded above the level of the ground. And in this vaultwere sacks, to the number of twenty, each of which was filled with athousand Mexican dollars.
Now a thousand silver dollars are no mean weight; and yet Ling unaided,and in spite of his fast-failing strength, lifted the sacks one afteranother and placed them upon the ground above.
Then he himself came forth from the vault, and stood for a momentholding his left side, with the pale moonlight full upon his face. Itwas the face of death itself.
The man's features were more drawn and haggard-looking even than before.It may have been the moonlight that caused his countenance to appearsnow-white. He breathed like one who is spent from running; his greatchest heaved, and Frank perceived that his wound had opened again, andthe red blood was even then staining his clothes. Towards this man--ofwhom, throughout all the adventures through which he had passed, he hadstood in the greatest dread--the boy now experienced feelings ofinfinite commiseration.
"Let me help you?" he asked.
And Ling laughed aloud--a laugh that sounded forced and hollow, in whichthere was more of irony than mirth. He pointed to one of the bags.
"Lift that up," said he.
Frank attempted to do so, but found that he had not the strength.
"You must go back to the junk," said he. "I give you my word of honourI will be true to you. I will attend to your wound. I will do all Ican to help you."
"You do not know me," answered Ling. "I never give in. I go throughwith that which I have begun. And besides, there is no time to lose. Ifeel sure that Yung How has not wasted his time. If I delay I may becaptured."
"If you do not rest," cried Frank, "you will kill yourself."
Ling was silent a moment. Then he snapped his fingers. "And what doesthat matter?" he asked. "What difference does it make to you--or, forthe matter of that, to me? Death is nothing. We are only put into theworld to die."
At that he lifted one of the bags upon his shoulder, and set forward inthe direction of the place where the junk was moored.