Held by Chinese Brigands

"Are they long li?" asked Sir Thomas, understanding well the vagueness of all Chinese measurements, "or short li?"

"They are short li," answered Men-Ching, "for the road runs up-hill until you come to the last li, where the traveller descends into a wide valley of ricefields and fruit trees, li-chi and mango. In the Sang valley there is a tall tower, from the top of which, in days gone by, fathers were wont to throw the she-children they could not afford to keep. A woman child is no use in the world. From the day of her birth to the day of her death she does little else but talk. On the west side of the tower is a small wood, and in the centre of this wood is a glade where the birds sing in summer-time, whilst the water of the river makes sweet and pleasant music. In the glade are rocks; but in one place there is a great red stone, almost round. Two strong men can roll it away from the place where it is; but they must use all their strength. And when the red stone is rolled away, it will be seen that it rests upon a great hole in the ground. It is like the lid of a kettle. Inside this hole there is room enough for twenty thousand dollars."

The judge had listened intently, committing each detail to memory. A little after, Men-Ching left the cave, and the three white men found themselves together. Sir Thomas turned to his nephew.

"Did you hear what the rascal said, Frank?" he asked.

"Every word," replied the boy.

"And you remember it all?"

Frank nodded.

"Then," said the judge, "help me to write this letter. It will be by no means easy to write. I shall have to explain matters very clearly to Sir John, and I've got to write it with a brush."

In the temple they had been deprived of their pencils and notebooks, and everything else their pockets contained, and these had not been brought by Cheong-Chau to the cave. Otherwise Sir Thomas might have asked for his own fountain pen. As it was, he was now obliged to write in English characters with a Chinese brush, and this was a tedious business. In the end, however, the letter was written, covering in all five pages of Chinese rice-paper, in shape longer than foolscap, but not so broad.

Sir Thomas had written fully. He had explained where and by whom they had been captured; he even went so far as to give the name of the bandit chieftain and to relate how he had been betrayed by his own personal servant, Yung How. He said that he had not the slightest doubt that, if the rascals were not paid in full upon the stroke of time, the three of them would be ruthlessly put to death. He ended the letter by explaining the exact whereabouts of the "Glade of Children's Tears," describing the red stone beneath which the ransom money was to be hidden. He also expressed the opinion that it would be useless to endeavour to capture the brigands in the neighbourhood of the glade itself, and he strongly advised the Governor not to attempt to lay an ambush. He pointed out that such a plan would most assuredly fail, since the Chinese were sure to exercise the utmost caution, and to have spies in the neighbourhood. Moreover, the discovery of such a plan would undoubtedly lead to the immediate death of Sir Thomas himself and his companions. It would be time enough to think of reprisals, of taking steps to track down the brigands, after the judge and his party had returned safely to the island.

As the judge wrote, aided by the flickering light of a torch, Frank and Mr Waldron looked over his shoulder, each offering occasional suggestions.

"Do I understand," asked Mr Waldron, "that you don't trust these fellows?"

"I am afraid I am very far from trusting them," replied the judge. "Men of this type, in this mysterious, savage country, are as often as not without honour, cruel beyond description, and incapable of showing mercy. Moreover, in moments of delight-I know for a fact-they are capable of committing the most terrible atrocities. I don't wish to alarm you unnecessarily, Mr Waldron, but I tell you honestly that I fear the future. Sir John will send the money, provided the letter reaches him in safety-which I have no doubt it will. But once the money is in Cheong-Chau's possession, it is quite possible he will kill us, out of sheer devilry, in the moment of his triumph."

Mr Waldron thrust his hands into his trousers pockets, and shaped his lips as if he desired to whistle. No sound, however, came from his lips. He paced backwards and forwards in the cave like a wild beast that is hungry. For all that, upon his clear-cut, regular features there was no sign of apprehension. His manner suggested impatience more than fear.

"It's just cruel luck," said he, as though he were speaking to himself. "Guess I can't look upon it in any other light. Why did I leave Paradise City!"

"There's not much paradise about this," said Frank, taking in his hand a burnt stick and stirring the embers of the fire. A flame sprang forth that illumined the rugged walls of the cave. Here and there upon the hard rock were narrow, streaky grooves, where the moisture had trickled down.

"We're helpless," Mr Waldron burst out, "helpless as the little children these fiends used to throw from the top of that tower. That's what gets me on the raw, Judge. I never before felt helpless. In the course of my life, I have found myself in a great many awkward places; but I have always been able to see a way out and I have made good in the end. This thing's different. Hennessy K. Waldron may be a great man in the state of Nevada; but in this blamed country I guess he don't count more than a copper cash."

And Mr Hennessy K. Waldron was about right-a copper cash, in the coinage of China, having the approximate value of the fifth part of a farthing.

CHAPTER VIII-AND HOW FRANK RESOLVED TO FOLLOW IT

That same evening, Men-Ching, accompanied by another man, set forth upon his journey to the south. It was calculated that he could reach the river in five days, though to do so he would have to travel by night as well as day. The prisoners had little doubt that he would find a river-junk at Pinglo or at some other river-side village where the brigands had established outposts. With the help of the current and a favourable wind, he could reach Canton in a few days, and thence the last stage of the journey could be completed by steam-boat-ships leaving Canton for Hong-Kong at least twice a day.

There was, therefore, plenty of time-provided no mishap befell him-for Men-Ching to fulfil his mission. Cheong-Chau, who knew his business, had taken steps to convince the Governor that the plight of the judge was genuine. He had included in the envelope containing his own letter a gold signet ring, which he himself had taken from the finger of Sir Thomas.

When Men-Ching left the cave it was raining hard. He brought the two letters to the fireside, desiring in all probability to satisfy the prisoners that there was to be no mistake, that he was not going to take any risks. He took off his faded scarlet coat, ripped up the lining with a sharp knife, and sewed the letters inside. That done, he tied a sash around his waist, threw a straw raincoat across his shoulders, and put on a large straw hat such as the coolies wear when at work in the southern ricefields. Then he and his companion departed, Men-Ching carrying in his hand a long stick. They followed the narrow path that traversed that bare, desolate region, at one moment on the crest-line of a watershed, at another upon the very brink of a precipice.

The rain descended in torrents, shutting out completely the last rays of the setting sun. A great darkness descended upon the wilderness. The water in the gullies and ravines mounted with the rapidity of quicksilver; and presently the night was alive with savage, discordant sounds: the wind howling amongst the rocks, the roar of cataracts, turbulent streams plunging, as if demented, down the mountain-side. But in spite of the darkness and the rain, Men-Ching and his companion continued to move rapidly towards the south. He was an old man, as we know, but he was by no means inactive. Also, he knew every inch of the road. It was probably for that reason that Cheong-Chau had selected him to undertake the journey.

They did not halt to rest until many hours after daybreak, and then snatched only a few hours' sleep, after eating a handful of rice. The storm had cleared. Men-Ching took off his raincoat, and stretched it out upon the ground, in order that it might dry in the sun. Placing both his hands upon his faded scarlet coat, he expressed the greatest satisfaction to find that it was absolutely dry. The letters were safe; he could feel them inside the lining. There was no chance that the rain had washed out the ink. Indeed, in the whole world, there is probably no more efficient waterproof garment than the straw raincoat of the Far East.

In course of time Men-Ching gained the southern extremity of the Nan-ling Mountains, at a place not far from the town of Pinglo. The rich, fertile valley lay before him, extending as far as the eye could reach. He had left behind him China, the desolate, the barbarous, the unknown; before him lay China, the civilised, the prosperous, the land of ceaseless industry and untold wealth.

And there, for the time being, we may leave him, still travelling towards the south upon his robber's errand. We will leave him to his fate, to the mercy of the heathen gods he may or may not have worshipped. His destiny was already sealed, though little did Men-Ching dream that that was so.

In the cave, day followed day, so far as the captives were concerned, with the same dreary monotony; the same fears and half-foolish hopes. They could take no exercise, and they had no books to read. There was nothing for them to do but to talk, to discuss amongst themselves the tragedy of their position.

And as time passed they had less and less reason to trust Cheong-Chau, to think that they could rely upon his word. The man proved himself a reprobate. He was an opium drunkard; and that is a thing not so common in China as the majority of Europeans imagine.

It is true that opium is smoked throughout the length and breadth of the East. Indeed, the opium pipe in China is the equivalent to the British workman's glass of beer, and opium dens in that country are as common as public-houses in this.

At the same time, most Chinese are only moderate smokers. They do not smoke enough opium even to injure their health. The reason for this is obvious: opium, even in China, is very expensive, and the ordinary man cannot afford to buy much of it. Neither does opium happen to be a drug that does a great deal of harm unless it is taken in excess; it probably does infinitely less harm than alcohol. If taken in large doses, however, its results are disastrous and terrible.

For some reason or other-never explained by physiologists-repeated doses of opium sap the moral fibre. A man begins to smoke opium in a small way, but after a time he finds that he has to smoke double the quantity of pipes in order to get the desired result. And so on, until he finds himself taking doses that would kill one who was not inured to the drug. By that time he has lost everything a man should value most: his sense of honour, his will power, much of his physical strength, and his power of concentration. He is a degenerate whose mind is filled with the foulest, most perverted fancies, who is a stranger to truth, and who delights as often as not in committing the most fiendish of crimes.

Now Cheong-Chau was evidently such a man; for one night he rolled into the cave, awakening his captives-who for many hours had been fast asleep-by the blasphemy and violence of his language. His gait was unsteady; the pupils of his eyes, visible in the bright light of the fire, were small as pinheads. He carried in his hand a naked sword.

"I am Cheong-Chau," he shrieked. "Death to all foreign devils who dare set foot upon the sacred soil of China!"

Bursting into a loud laugh, he raised his sword as if he would strike down Mr Waldron, who had risen to his feet.

"Stay," cried the judge. "Have we not your oath-that if the money is paid you will not stain your hands in blood?"

"Oath!" cried the robber. "What are oaths and blood to me? Am I a Canton flower-girl or a Buddhist priest that I should not shed blood when the fancy takes me? Know that I am Cheong-Chau, the robber, who cares for neither oaths nor gods nor men."

For some reason or other he had singled out the American; and it looked most certain that, at that moment, the life of Mr Hennessy K. Waldron was in the greatest danger. However, Mr Waldron never moved an inch; he neither drew back nor showed the slightest sign of alarm. He held his ground, staring the villain boldly in the face.

It was, in all probability, solely his courage that saved him. The Chinese was so low down in the scale of humanity that he was not far removed from the beasts; and it is well known that no animal can for any length of time look a strong man in the eyes. The eyes of Mr Waldron were those of one who had carved a way for himself in the world, who-starting life in a very humble sphere-had conquered a thousand difficulties; thereby proving himself a strong man who could not fail to be conscious of his strength.

Cheong-Chau was unable to maintain his threatening and defiant attitude before that steel-grey, steady gaze. Slowly his sword descended; his eyes dropped to the ground. Mr Waldron, with admirable calmness, deliberately placed a hand upon the man's shoulder, and addressed him in the English language in a tone that was even kindly.

"Say, old cockolorum," said he, "you ought to retire from business. You're doing yourself no good, you know. Guess you want a good six weeks at some quiet seaside resort, where there's no more excitement than a dance-hall or a merry-go-round. Take the missus and the kids."

Cheong-Chau turned away with an oath. No doubt he supposed that Mr Waldron had delivered a brief speech, somewhat in the tragic vein, suitable to the occasion; for neither in the expression upon the American's face nor in the serious tones of his voice was there anything to convey the intelligence that Mr Waldron was disposed to be frivolous.

For all that, they could not overlook the fact that, whether or not the ransom were paid, their lives were in the greatest danger. The man who held them in his power was subject to ungovernable fits of wrath, during which his mental condition bordered upon that type of insanity which is inseparable from the truly criminal character. At such times-which invariably followed a debauch of opium smoking-Cheong-Chau was certainly not responsible for his actions; and discussing the question among themselves, they came to the conclusion that at any moment the order to murder them might be issued. By no such act of treachery could the brigand forfeit the ransom, since both the prisoners and Cheong-Chau himself had no means of direct communication with Hong-Kong. Men-Ching should be now well upon his way, approaching the city of Canton.

It was Mr Waldron who suggested that one of them should endeavour to escape. At first, this idea struck the judge as a piece of outrageous folly, since if one of the three even did succeed in getting away from the cave and crossing the mountains-a very unlikely contingency-the murderous Cheong-Chau would be so furious that he would probably not hesitate to make short work of the unfortunate two who remained. On debating the matter, however, Mr Waldron was able to throw quite another light upon the situation.

He explained that if a survivor reached Hong-Kong who could not only identify Cheong-Chau himself and the majority of his men, but who could actually guide an avenging expedition to the neighbourhood of the cave, the brigands would be hunted from pillar to post, and if not captured, certainly driven from the province. The robber could not be unaware that in the British colony were both English and Indian troops, whilst a large fleet lay at anchor in the harbour, and he must have known enough of the British Government to remember that the cold-blooded murder of British citizens was an act not likely to be overlooked. He could not wish to involve both himself and the members of his gang in international complications. He would therefore, in all probability, hesitate to do away with his captives.

It is true that an attempt to escape might fail, in which case the plight of the prisoners would be, if anything, somewhat worse. But in any case, as day succeeded day, they became more and more convinced that Cheong-Chau intended to kill them. He did but bide his time, waiting to hear news of Men-Ching to the effect that the ransom had been duly paid. For these reasons it was eventually decided that one of them should endeavour to escape.

It was next necessary to settle who should go. The judge himself was too old to attempt to cross the mountains alone upon so long and hazardous a journey. The choice, therefore, lay between Frank Armitage and Mr Waldron.

The American-who had already proved himself a man of the greatest courage, both physical and moral-was naturally anxious to take the risk himself. However, he could not be blind to the fact that he laboured under several very serious disadvantages.

In the first place, he was entirely ignorant of both the language and the country. He knew neither the habits and customs of the people nor the topography of Southern China. Frank, on the other hand, had been born and had lived all his life in China; on many a former occasion he had proved himself quite capable of conversing even with the most untutored and obstinate peasants. Moreover, the boy was the most active member of the party: he was a good runner; he could climb, if necessary, to the top of mountain peaks, and he was an adept at swimming-an important item, since he might have to cross the West River, as well as several tributaries, in order to reach Canton or the coast.

It was this consideration that settled the question in the mind of Mr Waldron. The American was obliged to confess that he could not swim except for a short distance in salt water. If he endeavoured to cross the strong current of a great river without even taking his clothes off, he would most assuredly drown.

"And in that case," he observed, "I might as well have stayed here to have my throat cut in my sleep, or sample the death by a thousand cuts."