CHAPTER XXVII--HOW LING DRIFTED TO THE STARS
Ling staggered under the weight of his burden. For all that, he gainedthe junk, where he threw the sack into an open hatchway in the forepartof the ship.
He then returned to the glade, and by a great effort lifted a secondsack upon his shoulder. In all, he made the journey twenty times; andon each occasion his gait was more unsteady, his breathing shorter andfaster. It appeared to Frank, who watched him, that the man diminishedin stature; his shoulders became round--when he had once been soupright--and he walked like an old man, with bent knees and hollowedchest.
He was not able to complete his final journey without a rest. Half-waybetween the glade and the junk, he threw down the last sack upon theground, and seating himself upon it, placed his head between his handsand came out with a great sob that was pitiful to hear. He needed hislast ounce of strength to steady himself to walk the narrow gangway. Nosooner had he reached the deck of the junk than the sack fell from hishands, and he himself collapsed. His knees gave way from under him, andhe lay for several minutes quite motionless, curled up like a great dogthat sleeps.
Frank, thinking that the man was unconscious, knew not what to do. Hebegan to search for a tin can or pannikin of some sort in which to givehim water, but he had failed to find anything suitable for such apurpose when Ling struggled to an elbow.
"Come here," said he. "I would speak to you."
His voice was so low as to be scarcely audible. Frank hastened to hisside and, kneeling down, placed an ear close to his mouth.
The boy had no fear now of the mighty Ling. Indeed, it would have beenmere foolishness to fear one so stricken, in so sorry a plight. Lingwas no longer an incarnate monster, a blustering, boisterous bully. Thetiger was caught, choked and enfolded in the meshes of a net. And yet,he still struggled for life--struggled to the last.
He was a man who, during the last few hours, had been possessed by butone idea, which had absorbed the whole of his mind and strength andenergy. Call it avarice, greed of gold, or the nobility of a supremeendeavour, it is all the same--it means that there was something in himof the earthly hero. It means that a power that is immortal had givenhim strength to accomplish all that he desired, had given him courage tolive but a little longer. And now, with the plunder safely on board,and the wide river of the valley extending to the open sea, he knew thathis days were numbered, his time on earth was short.
"I would speak with you," he whispered. "I would tell you, you are myfriend. Go below and release the European prisoners, but keepCheong-Chau's men bound hand and foot. You cannot trust them. They areall of a breed--of the same breed as their leader. In Canton--if youwish it--you can hand them over to justice. Tell the prefect that theywere captured by the mighty Ling."
In that thought he appeared to find some degree of satisfaction. He hadalways been vain of his strength, his wisdom and his courage.
He was silent a moment. Frank noticed that he smiled--a smile that wasterrible to see, because his face was so pinched and haggard. Histhoughts must have turned to things divine, for when he spoke again, itwas in the words of the Celestial Emperor's prayer. He had turned overupon his back, and lay with his eyes wide open, looking up at the stars.
"To Thee, O mysteriously working Maker, I look up in thought. Howimperial is Thy expansive arch! I, Thy child, dull and unenlightened,come to Thee with gladness, as a swallow rejoicing in the spring,praising Thine abundant love."
All his vanity had left him now. The heart of the monster was that of alittle child. The violence of the life he had lived, the cruelty of hisdeeds, departed from him as the life's blood flowed from his wound; andthe wisdom and the reverence he had learned on earth rose superior toearthly joys. He closed his eyes, and lay for a long time, breathingmore easily, as if asleep.
Frank got to his feet and, descending into the cabin below, cut thebonds that bound Mr Waldron and his uncle. In as few words as possible,the boy explained exactly what had happened; and then all three went ondeck, to the place where Ling was lying at the foot of the mast.
As they approached, he endeavoured to lift his head, but it fell backagain, as if he had lost control of the muscles of his neck.
"Can you sail the junk?" he asked, speaking for the first time inEnglish.
"I think so," said Frank. "In any case, if we can but get her out intomid-stream, she will drift upon the current."
"That is what I would wish," said Ling. "Let me drift into the otherworld. Forty years since, I was born upon the turbulent waters of theHoang-Ho. Let me breathe my last upon the tranquil Pe-kiang. One isinclined to believe," he continued, "that destiny is expressed insymbols. The Hoang-Ho is the most boisterous, violent and unmanageableriver in all the thirteen provinces of this celestial land. And my lifehas been such, in very truth. I have lived by violence, and now I die adeath by violence. But--I know not why--I die calmly, in peace with allmen and my Maker. I think that, perhaps, the bad that was within me hasgone out of me with the brute strength that was mine, and the good thatwas within me has taken possession of my soul, to conduct me to theexpansive arch of heaven. And now, that I may rest in peace, bring me apillow for my head. You cannot move me--I am too heavy. Besides, Idesire to remain here, to regard the stars."
Searching the junk, they found several cushions, and these they disposedso that the man could lie in greater ease. And Mr Waldron, who--as aman who had lived much of his life in the wilds--had some littleexperience in surgery and medicine, attended to Ling's wound, washingaway the blood and folding another and a cleaner bandage.
And then they loosed the junk from her moorings, and with difficulty atlast succeeded in getting the ship clear of the creek. She at onceswung round with the current. And when they lowered what little canvasshe carried, the ship drifted down the river, with Sir Thomas Armitageat the tiller.
On this account progress was very slow, and they had not progressed manymiles when the red dawn began to appear in the east. They passedvillages upon both banks of the river, surrounded by flooded ricefields,purple in the dawn. As the light grew, they were able to perceivedistant wooded hills, with ancient temples and pagodas built upon theirslopes.
They had taken turn and turn about at the work of steering, relievingone another every half-hour, so that there were always two of them inattendance upon Ling. He did not speak again until the sun had risen,when he complained that the light was trying to his eyes.
As he had said, he was far too heavy to be moved. They constructed anawning above him, a small sail tied to the mast. He thanked them withChinese courtesy, and then closed his eyes again, as if he desired tosleep.
A little after, they rounded a bend of the river, and found that theyhad gained the Pe-kiang, or North River, which joins the West River alittle above Canton. And there, lying in mid-stream, like a watch-dogat the mouth of its kennel, was a British gunboat, her paint glisteningin the sun, the great muzzle of a 4.5 gun directed at the bows of thejunk. They could see the gunners, each man in his place, standing readyto fire.
The junk drifted nearer and nearer to the man-of-war. They could seethe commander on the bridge. He shouted to them through a megaphone,ordering them to heave to and drop their anchors, or else he would openfire. When he saw that there were Europeans on board, however, who werefree to do what they liked, and that the only Chinaman visible was a manstretched at full length upon the deck beneath an awning, he threw backhis head with an exclamation of surprise.
At the commander's side upon the bridge stood a long-coated Chinaman;and as the junk drew alongside, Sir Thomas and his nephew recognisedtheir old servant, Yung How.
A moment later, the lieutenant-commander was on board the junk,listening in astonishment to the extraordinary tale which Frank Armitagehad to tell. It was not easy to believe, but there was on board thejunk indisputable evidence that the boy spoke the truth. For there wasthe sack of silver dollars upon the deck, where Ling had thrown it;Cheong-Chau'
s seven men were below, bound hand and foot; and there wasthe great Honanese himself, with the spark of life no more thanglimmering in that colossal frame.
Whilst Frank was relating his story, Sir Thomas addressed himself toYung How, who stood upon the deck of the gunboat. The man explainedthat he had done all in his power to atone for his treachery andingratitude. He had reached Hong-Kong--as we know--on the same boat asthe letters, but had not been able to pluck up sufficient moral courageto present himself before the police authorities until after he had beenseveral hours on the island. The ransom had already been despatched,when the Chief of Police presented himself before Sir John Macintosh,the Governor.
It would have been easy to telegraph to Canton, instructing those onboard the launch to wait for His Majesty's gunboat _Ferret_. It wasdecided, however, to allow the ransom money to be taken over by thebrigands, who could afterwards be brought to book at the junction of theSang River with the Pekiang. It would not be possible for Cheong-Chauto remove the treasure by any other means than by junk or _wupan_. Ofthe operations of Ling and the undoing of Cheong-Chau and his band, theHong-Kong police authorities, of course, knew nothing.
Yung How himself was ordered to accompany the ship's doctor, whoimmediately hastened to the assistance of the dying man on board thejunk. When the servant found himself face to face with his master, heimmediately fell upon his knees, imploring Sir Thomas to be merciful.The judge was not slow to forgive, realising that Yung How had at lastbeen made to realise the evils of the drug to which for so many years hehad been a slave, and the depths of degradation to which the opiumsmoker can sink.
Upon that fateful morning, however, beyond a few brief words of mutualcongratulation, little enough was said. The attention of all was takenup by the prostrate figure of the notorious Canton robber, who for yearspast had defied all authority and law.
The naval surgeon declared that he could do nothing. The man wasalready as good as dead. The surgeon's sole cause for wonderment wasthat Ling still lived.
The great Honanese remained insensible until the moment whenCheong-Chau's brigands were brought on deck. Then, opening his eyes, helooked at them, at first not appearing to remember who they were. Then,very slowly, a smile spread upon his face.
"They go the way of all men," said he; "to the Potter's Yard, ifevidence can be produced against them; at all events, to the woodencages that are to be found at the gates of the city. As for myself, Igo before a greater court of justice. And I am not afraid."
He remained silent for a moment, and then, seeing Frank, he asked theboy to come to him.
"Had I not met you," said he, "that morning on the wharf at Sanshui,perhaps I should not now be bidding farewell to all my earthly troubles.Still, that is a matter of no importance. I would like to thank you,because you have been true to me. It does not flatter me to think thatyou preferred me to Cheong-Chau. You obeyed me in the first instancethrough fear, and then because you saw that I was one upon whom youcould rely. Tell me, is that so?"
"I think it is," said the boy, and then he added: "You are a strange manindeed."
"I believe I am," said Ling. "A singular mixture: evil and good,brutality and kindness, strength and weakness."
"I should not call you weak," said the boy.
"Then you do not know me, after all. What was all my vanity andboasting but weakness? What right has any man to boast? In the midstof the universe he is smaller than the ant; his voice, beside thethunder, is no more than the croaking of a frog. And now, bid mefarewell, for I am about to die, and would gladly do so, that the pain Isuffer may be ended."
It was just as if the man passed into the other world of his own freewill. Slowly he closed his eyes; and then he breathed no more. Thefeatures of his face relaxed; the hardness and the cruelty, the lines ofagony and crime, vanished from his features. The tiger was no more. Andlet us believe what he himself believed: that the evil that was in himremained upon this earth in that great casket of sinew, nerve andmuscle, destined to decay, and the good that was within him--all thatwas noble and heroic, the great thoughts that he had had and the wisdomhe had acquired--was carried by his soul into what he himself haddescribed as "the expansive arch of heaven."
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