Produced by Al Haines.
Cover art]
"'I AM CHEONG-CHAU,' HE CRIED." _See page_ 63.]
HELD BY CHINESE BRIGANDS
BY
CAPTAIN CHARLES GILSON
ILLUSTRATED BY
JOHN DE WALTON, A.R.W.A.
HUMPHREY MILFORD THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON, EDINBURGH, GLASGOW TORONTO, MELBOURNE, CAPETOWN, BOMBAY 1921
To BARBARA PARTRIDGE
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER I--HOW HENNESSY K. WALDRON "TRIPPED AROUND" CHAPTER II--OF AH WU'S OPIUM DEN CHAPTER III--OF THE TIGER AND THE FOXES CHAPTER IV--HOW CHEONG-CHAU CAME FORTH OF THE TOWN OF PINGLO CHAPTER V--HOW CHEONG-CHAU STRUCK AT DEAD OF NIGHT CHAPTER VI--HOW CHEONG-CHAU STATED HIS TERMS CHAPTER VII--HOW THE LETTER WAS WRITTEN CHAPTER VIII--AND HOW FRANK RESOLVED TO FOLLOW IT CHAPTER IX--OF THE HOSPITALITY OF THE TEA-GROWER CHAPTER X--HOW FRANK WAS IN LUCK'S WAY CHAPTER XI--OF THE REAPPEARANCE OF LING CHAPTER XII--HOW MEN-CHING ESCAPED CHAPTER XIII--HOW FRANK WAS CAUGHT IN THE TOILS CHAPTER XIV--HOW LING SNUFFED THE CANDLE CHAPTER XV--OF CHEONG-CHAU'S MESSENGER CHAPTER XVI--OF THE REPENTANCE OF YUNG HOW CHAPTER XVII--HOW LING WAS TOO LATE CHAPTER XVIII--OF THE SPIDER AND THE WEB CHAPTER XIX--HOW LING READ CONFUCIUS CHAPTER XX--HOW THE TIGER SPRANG CHAPTER XXI--OF THE GLADE OF CHILDREN'S TEARS CHAPTER XXII--OF THE CAPTURE OF THE JUNK CHAPTER XXIII--HOW THE TREASURE ARRIVED CHAPTER XXIV--HOW THE TIGER VANISHED IN THIN AIR CHAPTER XXV--AND HOW CHEONG-CHAU VANISHED ALTOGETHER CHAPTER XXVI--OF GREED OF GOLD CHAPTER XXVII--HOW LING DRIFTED TO THE STARS
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"'I am Cheong-Chau,' he cried" . . . . . . _Frontispiece in colour_ (_see page_ 63)
"Mr Waldron never moved an inch"
"Ling snatched the boathook from his hand"
"There came a roar like that of a charging lion"
"He himself was hurled after it"
CHAPTER I--HOW HENNESSY K. WALDRON "TRIPPED AROUND"
We have heard it said, by those who are widely travelled, that there arethree beautiful harbours in the world: Rio de Janeiro, in Brazil; SydneyHarbour, and--most beautiful of all--the harbour of Hong-Kong.
The famous Peak rises above the town of Victoria and, at a height ofabout two thousand feet, buries its crest in the clouds. The harbouritself is in the shape of a crescent, enclosing the red, bare hills ofKow-lung. By day, from Lyemun to Stonecutter's Island, ferry-boats,_sampans_, _wupans_ and launches scurry here and there, in and out amongthe great anchored men-of-war, like so many mice romping in a cage ofsleeping tigers.
The slopes of the mountain are green with palm-trees, mango, orange andlichen, in the midst of which can be seen innumerable white, flat-roofedvillas, each with its upper-story verandah and green-latticed windows.To the east the hills are more rugged; streams, traced through the glensby straggling brushwood, descend in a succession of waterfalls to thelevel of the sea. In the Pass of Lyemun the traveller finds himself inthe midst of an inhospitable grandeur, similar to that of the westernScottish isles.
It is, however, by night that Hong-Kong Harbour is at its best. With asky of a million stars, and the pale, round China moon hanging like alantern in the midst of the heavens, reflecting its light upon thesurface of the dark, tranquil water, the moving lights upon the_sampans_ and the countless lanterns in the streets of China town, thisplace is surely one of the most romantic in the world. Here the FarEast and the West touch; it is the one place in all China where thefoothold of the European is secure.
Upon this beautiful island, with its rugged hills and feathery palms,the white man stands, under his own flag--as it were, upon the verythreshold of the mysterious, eternal "Middle Kingdom." Over the way, tothe north-west, is the great estuary of the Canton river, theChau-kiang--the main trade highway of the south. Canton itself, a cityof two and a half million inhabitants, lies at the junction of threerivers, which meet almost at right angles: the first flowing from theeast, the second from the north, and the third--and greatest---from thewest. Canton is a city of mysteries and marvels; it is a city of manyindustries, insufferable heat, intolerable smells, and almostunbelievable devilry and crime.
The whole of the great province of Kwangsi and the eastern portion ofYunnan is drained by the West River and its hundreds of tributaries.These tributaries for the most part find their sources upon thewatershed of the Nan-ling Mountains, which extend from the Tung-tingLake to the city of Kin-yuen, a distance of over five hundred miles.
Of that great stretch of country little or nothing is known. Thanks tothe early Jesuit explorers, we are provided with excellent maps. But amap is no more than a coloured piece of paper which--at the best--isbacked with linen. Names in themselves convey nothing. Though you studythe map of China for a fortnight you will know less of the Si-kiang, orWest River, than the naval lieutenant who ran his gunboat past Wu-chau,and blew the mud huts of a pirate village into a dust-heap with thepound-and-a-half shells of his Maxim-Nordenfeldt. For, if to this daythere are wild men anywhere upon the face of the earth, who know neithermercy nor pity nor the laws of God or man, they are to be found in thetract of country that lies between the West River and the Nan-lingMountains to the north. And thither we are about to journey, into themidst of a land that is by no means a wilderness, but which is populatedfor the most part by peaceable, hard-working peasants.
There are, however, certain members of the community who are neitherpeaceable nor industrious, who care no more for the gunboats of HisBritannic Majesty upon the wide reaches of the river than they do forthe _yamen_ of the Viceroy of Canton, who so terrorise the province thateach honest man knows that it is more than his life is worth to giveinformation against them.
The chiefs of these pirates or brigands are, as often as not, highlyeducated Chinese, sometimes entitled to wear the blue or red button of amandarin. They hold sway by dint of their cruelty and their cunning.
Such a man was Cheong-Chau, whose headquarters were established in thetown of Kong-chin, at the foot of the mountains. Thence he and his menwere wont to descend to Pinglo, where they would board a sea-going junk,in which they would steal past Wu-chau to Canton, and thence to the opensea, to rob fishing-junks and sometimes even cargo ships. If they passeda gunboat or destroyer upon the broad waters of the estuary they weresimple fishermen, on a cruise to Macao or Amoy. But under their fishingnets and tackle was always a veritable armoury of blood-curdlingcutlasses and knives.
For the time being we will leave this cutthroat resting on hisill-gotten wealth, dazed from opium in a filthy den in the city ofPinglo, and return to the sublime and tranquil beauty of the harbour ofHong-Kong. There we are to meet a gentleman of appearance morepersonable, and personality more engaging, than the redoubtableCheong-Chau. We refer to Mr Hennessy K. Waldron, of Paradise City,Nevada, U.S.A.
Mr Waldron was engaged upon what he termed a "trip around." He had madea pile of money out of cattle, silver, a patent egg-whisk, and pigs.His "trip around" had already lasted two and a half years. He had beento London, Paris, Switzerland, and Venice. He knew the height of thedome of St Paul's Cathedral, the number of bricks in the Mont Cenistunnel, and the names of all the famous Venetian painters. He had gazedat the Pyramids, he had contemplated the Coliseum, and standing upon theBridge of Sighs in Venice, he had quote
d Byron, sentimentalising overthe narrow stretch of water that divides the Doges' Palace from thegloomy dungeon to the right.
And wherever Hennessy K. Waldron had been he had been well received.Before leaving New York he had taken the precaution of arming himselfwith so many letters of introduction to influential persons in all partsof the world that he was obliged to carry them about with him in a largetin-lined box. He had not been two hours in Hong-Kong before he hadcalled upon his Excellency the Governor, _Sir_ John Macintosh--with theaccent, according to Mr Waldron, on the "Sir."
He had also a letter from the British Ambassador in Washington to SirThomas Armitage, the Chief Justice of the Colony, upon whose verandah hewas now seated, with his legs sprawled out in front of him, a Manilacheroot in the corner of his mouth and a whisky-and-soda at his elbow.Hennessy K. Waldron believed in "tripping around" in comfort.
"Judge," said he, "I've scheduled Hong-Kong for a six weeks' stay.Calculate I can do South China in that time?"
Sir Thomas smiled and shook his head.
"Mr Waldron," he replied, "you can't 'do' South China in six years, andyou'll know precious little about it even at the end of sixty."
"Waal, I guess I'm not slow in the uptake. I can run my eye over theTower of London, the Matterhorn, or the Louvre, in less time than a NewYork elevator would take to conduct you to the thirteenth story of theFlat Iron Building. And, sir, I'm speaking of things I know. GuessI've got face value out of every dollar's worth of shoe leather I everpurchased, or I never knew the difference between glue and honey."
"That may very well be," said the judge, "but there is so much aboutChina to learn, so much that is confusing, and even contradictory, thatI must confess, even after thirty years in the country, I know verylittle about it."
"Reckon," observed Mr Waldron, "the lingo would twist the tongue of arattlesnake. I'm not referring to that."
"Whilst you are in China," asked Sir Thomas, "what is it, Mr Waldron,you most desire to see?"
For some moments Mr Hennessy K. Waldron appeared to be deep in thought.It was as if he considered the question worthy of earnest consideration.
"Temples," said he, at last. "Judge, I'm just crazy on temples."
"It so happens," said Sir Thomas Armitage, "that I'm interested in thesame subject. For many years I have made a study of the religions ofChina--a vast, and to me an absorbing subject, upon which I am writing abook."
"Waal, now," exclaimed Mr Waldron, "that's very interesting, Judge. Ialways understood the Chink worships the spirits of his ancestors, andthat's about as far as he gets."
"That is by no means correct," said the judge. "There are manyreligions in China. The upper classes are, practically withoutexception, Confucianists. It is true Confucianism is scarcely areligion; it is a system of moral philosophy which, however, serves itspurpose. There are few Mohammedans in China, though great numbers ofBuddhists--Chinese Buddhism differing in several interesting particularsfrom the corruption of the religion which exists to-day in India.However, the great bulk of the people, especially in the ruraldistricts, are Taoists. Taoism is extremely difficult to understand,and even harder to explain. The original Taoist doctrine was aphilosophy of fatalism; it has deteriorated, however, into a belief inevil spirits, alchemy, black magic, and so forth. Taoism and Buddhismhave become confused; in the Taoist temples images can be seen of Buddhaand his disciples."
"Guess that's what I want to see," cut in Mr Waldron.
The judge was silent a moment.
"I am about to undertake a long and somewhat arduous journey," hecontinued. "I have had a great deal of work of late, and am taking asix weeks' vacation. In pursuit of my hobby I intend to journey up theWest River, to visit a very famous and ancient Taoist temple, situatedin the hills, not far from the town of Pinglo. If you would like toaccompany me, Mr Waldron, I am sure I shall be delighted. I warn you,however, that it will be no picnic. The heat will be excessive--for thesummer is here--and we shall be called upon to undergo certaininconveniences and even hardships."
"Sir," exclaimed the American, "I began life as a cow-puncher in Texas.I have consorted, in the course of my career, with Mexican caballeros,bar tenders and pugilists. I'm not likely to get cold feet at the sightof a mosquito or a heathen god."
The judge laughed, and rose to his feet. Mr Waldron knocked the ashfrom the end of his cigar.
The moonlit harbour lay immediately beneath them. The mast-headsignalling-lights upon the anchored cruisers winked their dots anddashes from one to the other. The round Chinese lanterns upon the_sampans_ moved restlessly, like fire-flies, upon the dark surface ofthe water. Somewhere, to the right, in the midst of the trees, amilitary band was playing; now and again they caught the strains of_Light Cavalry_ or _The Pilgrim's March_, from _Tannhaeuser_. To theleft, the flaming lights in the streets of the Chinese quarter threwtheir reflection upon the dark foliage of the palms and orange-trees onthe slopes of Mount Davis. Strange two-stringed instruments and shrillChinese voices, heard faintly in the distance, conveyed to Mr HennessyK. Waldron the impression that he was thousands of miles away fromParadise City.
"That's settled, then," said the judge. "We travel together, Mr Waldron.I shall be delighted to have the pleasure of your company."
"Judge," said Mr Waldron, "the pleasure is mine, sure. If it's temples,I'm your man. If there's going to be danger, I carry a six-shooter; andI can handle a gun as well as any."
"I trust," said the other, "that no such necessity will arise. However,in the region of the Nan-ling Mountains anything may happen. I myselfwill go unarmed."
At that moment a boy of about sixteen years of age entered the verandahfrom the dimly lighted drawing-room beyond, where he had been seated forsome time engrossed in a book. Though he was a good-looking andwell-built lad, he had the yellow complexion similar to that of theChinese themselves, which sooner or later comes to every European whohas lived for any length of time in the Far East.
"Are you talking about your journey up the West River, uncle?" he asked,with his eyes upon the heavy Colt revolver that Mr Waldron had producedfrom the hip-pocket of his trousers.
"Yes," said Sir Thomas. "Mr Waldron has agreed to come with me. I havepromised him that the expedition will be full of interest."
"I am going too?" asked the boy.
The judge laid a hand upon his nephew's shoulder. "I believe," said he,"that was arranged. Here, Mr Waldron," he added, turning to theAmerican, "is our interpreter. I have studied the Chinese language allmy life and can speak a little in the Mandarin dialect. But Frank islucky. He learnt the language from his amah, or Chinese nurse. He couldtalk Cantonese before he knew fifty words of English. When I amtravelling on the mainland I always take Frank with me. The Chinese areextraordinary people. If you speak their language badly they will notattempt to understand you, but Frank can talk the Southern dialect aswell as the peasants themselves."
"I'm in luck's way," observed Mr Waldron. "In the old days in Texas, ifI was prospecting for gold, I struck oil; if I was looking for oil, Ifound gold. That's how I made my pile. I guess there're not manyglobe-trotters who get such an opportunity of leaving the beaten track,of seeing China from the inside. And, Judge, I'm no good on the stump,but let me tell you, sir, I appreciate the honour; and if ever you findyourself in Paradise City, Nevada, U.S.A., you'll find my name a freepass to anything that's going, from a ten-cent circus to a pocketful ofcigars. And that's a bargain, Judge."
Whilst Mr Waldron was expressing, in his own peculiar fashion, his senseof obligation, there appeared, in the shadows of the room that gave uponthe verandah, a tall, dark-eyed Cantonese servant, a man of about thirtyyears of age, with a black glistening pigtail which reached almost tohis knees.
Wearing soft, felt-soled shoes, he glided across the room as noiselesslyand as stealthily as a cat. At the casement window he caught sight ofthe shining barrels of Mr Waldron's nickel-plated revolver. And at oncehe disappeared--behind a curtain.
"And now, Judge, may I ask when you intend to start?" asked theAmerican.
"In a week's time," said Sir Thomas. "That will give you a few days inwhich to see the sights of Hong-Kong. Bring no more baggage than oneman can carry. We are going into a country where there are no roads,only a few footpaths between the ricefields. And above all, Mr Waldron,I must request you to say nothing about it to anyone. Our destinationmust remain a secret. I do not trust even my own personal attendants."
"Your wishes will be obeyed, Judge," said Mr Waldron. "But may I ask,sir, why these precautions are essential?"
"They are not essential," said the judge, "but I think you will agreewith me they are wise when I tell you that the West River abounds withpirates, and there are several gangs of Chinese bandits in the Nan-lingMountains, especially in the neighbourhood where we are going. The townof Pinglo has an exceptionally bad reputation. You yourself, MrWaldron, are a wealthy man, and I have a position of some importance inthis colony. It might be well worth the while of some rascal who is intouch with the West River pirates to give information against us."
"I get your meaning, Judge," said Mr Waldron, returning his revolver tohis hip-pocket. "I'm as dumb as a dewberry pie. And now I must get backto my hotel. Good-night, and, sir, I'm pleased and honoured to have metyou."
"One moment," said the judge. "Let me send for a ricksha. I am afraidmy own chair coolies have gone to bed."
Sir Thomas entered the drawing-room, unconscious of the fact there was aman not five paces away from him hiding behind the curtain. He rang asmall bronze hand-bell and returned to the verandah.
The man behind the curtain dropped down upon his hands and knees, andkeeping in the shade of the various chairs and tables he gained thedoor, opened it, and passed through silently.
Two seconds afterwards he re-entered, standing at his full height, withan expression of profound dignity, even of contempt, upon every featureof his face.
He closed the door with a bang, marched with a stately stride across theroom, and presented himself at the window.
"Master rang," said he.
"Yes," said Sir Thomas. "Yung How, please order a ricksha for MrWaldron, to take him to the King Edward Hotel."
The man bowed--if an almost imperceptible downward movement of the headmay be so described.
"Yes, master," said he.
Stepping upon the verandah, he picked up the empty glass which hadcontained Mr Waldron's whisky-and-soda. Holding this in his hand, as ifit were something sacramental, Yung How stalked gravely from the room.
That night, tossing restlessly upon his bed in the stifling heat of thebreathless tropic night, Mr Hennessy K. Waldron, of Paradise City, Nev.,dreamed of heathen gods.