Chapter X The Hired Man
Gratitude—On Humanity—A Broken Thread—The Hill Country—Nearing Moukden—The Compradore—News at Last—Sowinski’s Address—Burnt Offerings—A Little Black Box—Toitshe!—Pidgin—Excellence—Herr Schwab—Photographabbaratus
After the rescue of Ah Fu, Jack stood in a new relationship to Ah Lum. The boy was the apple of the chief’s eye; nothing was too good for his deliverer. When the party reached camp after the memorable adventure, Ah Lum paraded his whole band, and, his voice broken by unwonted emotion, proclaimed the Englishman his friend. In all such moments of ceremony the literary man, the university graduate, appeared through the brigand chief. After reciting the heroic deed in the flowery language a scholarly Chinaman always has at command, he continued:
“Forgetfulness of a favour received is a sure sign of a bad heart. Let me speak in a similitude. A man is on a long journey; his money is all spent; he is destitute, far from home, without friends, and perishing from want. To him comes a stranger whose goodness of heart leads him to present the wanderer with a few hundred cash, thereby preserving his life. Should he afterwards see this man, his benefactor, ought he not to make some expression of gratitude? It is a common saying, if we receive from others a favour like a drop of water, the return should be as an overflowing fountain. How much more when a man snatches from death a male child! Does not the Sage say: ‘The three greatest misfortunes in life are: in youth to bury one’s father; at the middle age to lose one’s wife; and, being old, to have no son’? Heaven has already afflicted me with the first and the second of these tribulations; the honourable foreigner by his magnanimous courage has spared me the last. It is a true saying, ‘The brave act like tigers, not like mice’. Some of you, to the shame of your ancestors, acted like mice; the Ingoua leapt forth like a tiger and saved my pearl from the snout. He is my friend; whosoever does him a service does a greater service to me. As the Poet says:
“‘The Spring that feeds the Mountain Rill
Helps the great River to grow greater still’.”
Making allowances for the chief’s surcharged emotion, Jack felt that there could be no longer any obstacle to his departure. Ah Lum, indeed, was torn between two impulses. He wished to keep by his side the youth who had shown that he could not only teach English poetry, but display courage and readiness in a moment of danger. He wished also to show his gratitude practically, and knew that he could do so in no more acceptable way than by furthering Jack’s search for his father. After a night of indecision his generosity prevailed; he called Jack into his tent, and promised, if he still wished to go, to do all that he could to help him. But he pointed out that it would be very dangerous for him to venture into Moukden. There were both the Chinese and the Russians to reckon with. As for the former, he could furnish Jack with a pass which would probably secure him from molestation; but if it were found upon him by the Russians, it would in itself be sufficient to hang him. Jack, however, felt that there was little chance of tracing his father except by beginning at Moukden and working along the railway, and he once more expressed his unalterable determination to face whatever risks this course might involve.
Ah Lum then settled down to a serious discussion of ways and means. He agreed that Jack’s best plan would be to try his luck again as a Chinaman; but not this time as a Cantonese; there were too many Cantonese about. It would be better to pass as a native of one of the interior provinces, such as Sz-chuen. The dialect was not likely to be known to anyone in Moukden, so that the matter of speech would not be a difficulty. He might be supposed to have come down the Yang-tse-kiang on river boats, and to have drifted to Manchuria with an Ingoua; the Ingoua, as every Chinaman knew, were great travellers; this would explain his knowledge of pidgin English.
The chief spoke with great simplicity and earnestness; evidently he was sincerely anxious on Jack’s behalf. It was only at the end of the conversation that he reverted to his academic manner.
“Prudence,” he reminded Jack, “is what is most necessary to be cultivated by the young. Your path will be beset with perils; a chance word may be your undoing. When you converse in the road, remember there are men in the grass. For myself, I am old enough to be your father; this and my affection must be my excuse for offering words of advice. What says the proverb? ‘In a melon-patch, do not stoop down to arrange your shoes; under a plum-tree, do not lift your hand to adjust your cap.’”
Jack knew from experience that, being fairly mounted on his hobby, the chief could not easily be stopped, and settled himself to listen in patience.
“There are three things mainly to strive for: filial piety, that is the most important; integrity; and humanity. Let us take the last first. Humanity is among the greatest of the virtues. If a man wish to attain the excellence of superior beings, let him cultivate the attributes of humanity. They include benevolence, charity, clemency——”
At this moment a voice was heard at the entrance: “The august decree is fulfilled.”
The curtain was parted, and there entered the chief’s second in command, a big ferocious-looking fellow, holding up to Jack’s horrified gaze two ghastly blood-stained human heads. Ah Lum looked at the hideous objects with unmoved countenance.
“That is well,” he said. “Affix them on poles, and set them in the centre of the camp, with this scroll in large characters from the poet P’an T’ang-she’n:
“‘Virtue is best; hold Knavery in dread;
A Thief gains nothing if he lose his Head.’”
The incident interrupted the chief’s homily before his first heading was developed. The flow of his ideas seemed broken, for on the departure of his lieutenant he turned the conversation into another channel.
Jack afterwards learnt that the unfortunate wretches decapitated were two members of the band who had stolen fowls from a farmer. Since robbery was a principal reason of the Chunchuses’ existence, Jack was amazed at such an offence meeting with so terrible a punishment, until he heard that the farmer thus robbed had purchased immunity from Ah Lum by a gift of fodder, and the chief was inexorably merciless to any who were guilty, or who made him appear guilty, of a breach of faith. Jack was now convinced, if he had not been before, that Ah Lum was no mere spectacled pedant.
One fine morning Jack set off on his long journey to Moukden. His appearance was indistinguishable from that of a well-to-do Manchu. Every detail of his costume was correct, from the round black hat and glossy pigtail to the cloth boots with white felt soles. He was mounted on a good pony, and accompanied by a trusty Chunchuse. Ah Fu shed tears at parting; Ah Lum and Wang Shih were undisguisedly sorry to lose him, and the former indeed declared his willingness at any time to welcome him back, and even to give him a command in his band. Jack thanked him warmly, pressed his closed fists to his breast in Chinese salutation, and rode away.
It was nearly a thousand li—more than 300 miles—from the camp to Moukden; not as the crow flies, for in that country of forest, mountain, and river a straight course is impossible. The traveller has to proceed by pack roads, to ford streams deep and swift, to ascend and descend rugged forest-clad slopes; and if his journey is timed in the rainy season he suffers inconveniences and perils without number. It was fortunate for Jack that the rains were not so persistent and continuous this year as is sometimes the case. He was delayed at one or two stages of his journey by thunder-storms and swollen rivers; but, thanks to his guide, who knew the country perfectly, he was able to cover an average of about twenty-five miles a day. At another time nothing would have delighted him more than to take things easily, for he passed through some of the most magnificent scenery in the world, a country teeming with game of all kinds, and dotted at out-of-the-way spots with interesting monuments. But, determined to reach Moukden as soon as possible, he was not to be allured by the cry of pheasants or the trails of the tiger and the deer.
Furthermore, unequipped for such travelling as attracts the globe-trotter, he found the inevitable discomforts of the route somewhat trying to his patience. On fine days he was plagued for hours at a time by myriads of midges, which swarmed about his head, biting with fiendish ferocity. But his own sufferings were slight in comparison with his pony’s. From sunrise to sunset huge gadflies infested the poor animal, settling upon its tough hide, and piercing it till the beast was streaming with blood. Jack spent the greater part of the day in smashing the terrible insects with his whip, slaying hundreds and still leaving hundreds unslain. The nights also were times of torment. Putting up at some inn, he had to pass the hours in a crowded room, sealed up to prevent the ingress of midges, filled with smoke and the sickening odours of stewed pork and rancid vegetables. He slept on the k’ang, sometimes wedged in among a crowd of natives by no means too clean, never knowing but that he might have the dangerous company of an adder before the morning. He had to put up with such food as the inn afforded, mostly Chinese pork and salted eggs, with an occasional bonne bouche in the way of a trout when there happened to be Korean fishermen in the neighbourhood. But night by night he rejoiced in the completion of another good stage of his journey; and, thanks to his prudence and the clever management of his guide, he aroused no suspicions, and was accepted as a native, morose and uncompanionable indeed, but excused as being a wanderer from a distant province.
At length, on the fourteenth day after leaving the Chunchuse camp, the two travellers reached a village some twelve miles from Moukden. They were squatting at dinner in an inn when a detachment of Cossacks rode up, in the course of a foraging expedition. Jack felt a little anxious as they entered, but to them he was a mere Chinaman like the rest; he escaped notice, yet was relieved when they rode off in the direction of Moukden. When they were well on their way he suggested to his guide that it would be good policy to follow hard on their heels; entering the city in their wake he might hope to pass without attracting special attention.
It was late in the day, near the time for the closing of the gates, when the Cossacks approached the city. To Jack’s disappointment, instead of entering they rode off to the north-west, in the direction of the railway. He thought it advisable to put up in a little hamlet some two miles from the walls and wait till morning. There was sure to be a considerable crowd of country people awaiting the opening of the gates, and in the crush he was likely to pass unrecognized. Early in the morning, therefore, he took leave of the Chunchuse and turned his pony’s head towards Moukden. Though outwardly calm, he had many an inward tremor as he joined the crowd of people—labourers, farmers with carts loaded with beans, drovers with black pigs, women with fowls and geese slung round their necks—a miscellaneous throng, all too intent on their business, however, to give more than a passing glance to a rider hardly distinguishable from themselves.
The gates were thrown open, and Jack passed through with the rest, feeling tolerably secure now that he was at last within the walls. Turning off from the main road, he made his way by narrow and tortuous alleys to the street where the compradore lived in his cottage at the foot of Mr. Brown’s garden. The man was smoking at the door, and his son Hi Lo was playing at knuckle-stones on the ground near him. Jack reined up and dismounted, saying nothing at first in order to test the efficacy of his disguise. The compradore looked up, but did not recognize him. The boy was quicker. At the first glance he jumped up, ran to his father, and whispered in his ear. The man started, kowtowed, then, looking hurriedly and anxiously around and up and down the street, invited Jack to enter. When the door was shut he expressed his delight at seeing his young master once more. He had heard from his brother at Harbin of the successful stratagem by which Jack had managed to start for Vladivostok, but, knowing what risks the journey involved, he had ever since been fearful lest some harm should have befallen him.
“I have had some narrow escapes,” said Jack, “but here I am, you see, safe and sound. I’ll tell you all about it by and by; but first tell me, Mr. Hi, have you discovered anything about my father?”
The compradore’s face fell as he related the result of his enquiries. A Chinaman once in Mr. Brown’s employment had been working at the railway-station at Shuang-miao-tzü, about half-way between Moukden and Harbin, when, on a siding in an open truck, among a crowd of malefactors in chains, he had been amazed to recognize his former master. The truck had remained there for two days; the man had tried to get speech with Mr. Brown, but in vain. By questioning and comparing notes Jack came to the conclusion that this was the very truck he had seen from the window of the train on his way to Harbin. His blood boiled at the recollection of the miserable wretches and the thought that his father was among them; he felt an insane desire to rush off at once and confront General Bekovitch with the discovery; but he knew how fatal such a step would be; and after an explosion of wrath which he could not control, and at which Hi An looked on with every mark of sympathy, he regained his composure, and, recognizing that there was no hope save in patience, settled down to discuss his future course of action. He knew full well that an unlucky accident might at any time put an end to his quest and perhaps his life, and resolved that so far as in him lay he would not fail through lack of caution.
After the first moment of relief and happiness at seeing Jack again, the compradore showed himself seriously concerned for his young master’s safety. If he were detected by the Russians he ran the risk of being shot as a spy. His disguise was perfect; Moukden was probably the last place where his enemies would expect to find him; but while the Russians were in possession there would always be found Chinamen ready to curry favour with them, and earn a little cash. After some discussion it was arranged that the compradore should give out that Jack was a distant relative from Sz-chuen, and Hi An himself suggested that he should feign illness for a time until his future movements could be carefully thought out.
“I shall want a name,” said Jack with a smile. “What can you call me?”
“Sin Foo, master. I had a nephew of that name; he is dead, poor boy; it is a good name.”
“Very well. Now we must make further enquiries along the line to see what has become of that truck. I have plenty of money; the flour we expected came safely to Vladivostok, and I sold it. You have friends you can employ?”
“Yes. But it will take a long time.”
“Of course. I wish I could go up the line myself. Is it impossible?”
“You must not think of it, master. If it were known that questions were being asked about an Englishman arrested by the Russians, suspicion would be awakened, and what could you say if you were caught? No, leave it to my countrymen; they will know exactly how to enquire, without seeming too curious. As for you, it is best to remain in Moukden, and wait until we get more news.”
“I’m afraid you are right. Well, let it be so for the present. Tell me, is Sowinski in the city?”
“Yes, he is living in your father’s house.”
At that Jack fired up again. Red with anger he strode up and down the room, itching to do something, yet feeling all the time his helplessness. Then he checked himself with a laugh.
“I’ll never do for a Chinaman,” he said, “if I show temper so easily. You must teach me to fix my face, Mr. Hi.”
“Yes, master,” said the compradore seriously. “I will buy a little image of Buddha, and put it in a corner of the room. If you look at it for two hours every day your face will be as calm as a still pool.”
The compradore’s house was very small, and before a week was out Jack was terribly sick of being cooped up in it from morning till night. Only after dark, when the quarter was quiet—and that was at a very late hour, for when Chinamen start playing fan-tan it becomes a trial of endurance—only then did the compradore think it safe for his guest to issue forth for a breath of air. The proximity of Sowinski was itself a danger. Moreover, his acquaintances, among them Sowinski’s Chinese servants, were becoming curious. It was impossible to harbour a stranger long in secret; for a couple of days the story of a sick cousin passed muster, but the compradore had omitted to state the nature of the illness, and his friends began to enquire whether they might not be allowed to see the sick man and join Hi An himself in the charms and exorcisms proper to cure him. Thus pushed into a corner, the worthy man drank in their sight the ashes of burnt yellow paper, and whispered that he feared his relative was sickening for a fever; it would not be safe to admit visitors. He was about to sacrifice to the divinities on the sick man’s behalf; and, taking his courage in both hands, he invited a number of his friends to accompany him.
Jack rolled with laughter when he afterwards learnt what had happened. His amusement was all the greater because the compradore was so obviously ill at ease lest he should have incurred the displeasure of the divinities by sacrificing for a man who was not ill. Professing to be not quite sure of the disease, he had gone first to the roadside shrine of his Excellency the Small-Pox and burnt incense there; then to the Honourable Divinity the Plague; finally, to make short work of it and cover all imaginable complaints, he had proceeded to the deity known as Mr. Imperfect-In-Every-Part-Of-His-Body, a hideous idol with sore eyes, hare-lip, and ulcerated legs. Convinced now that the travelled relative must be in a desperately bad state, the inquisitive neighbours gave a wide berth to Hi An, and no longer desired to cross his threshold.
But when a week had passed, Jack, finding his inactivity intolerable, came to the conclusion that it would really be safer if he moved about a little. The neighbourhood would expect to be invited either to his funeral or to a feast in celebration of his recovery, and the talk that would ensue when neither event happened might develop danger both for himself and for his host. One evening the compradore, on returning home, chanced to mention that during the day he had been asked by a foreign war-correspondent if he could recommend a servant. The stranger already had a capable mafoo, or groom, but this man had absolutely refused to carry or have anything to do with a little black box on which his master set great store, and the foreigner had met with the same refusal from every native to whom he applied. Hi An himself was somewhat amused at the situation. Having served Mr. Brown for so many years, and in so many different places, including the southern treaty ports, he was well aware that the black box was a harmless photographic camera: had not Master Jack himself possessed one in Shanghai? But the Moukden natives, not yet accustomed to the kodak of the globe-trotter, were convinced that the mysterious box was choke-full of little black devils impatiently waiting for any confiding Chinaman simple enough to be lured within their influence. The correspondent, being somewhat stout and far from active, was loth to carry the camera himself, and had almost resigned himself to the dead-lock.
“Poor fellow!” said Jack, laughing. “How did you come across him, Mr. Hi?”
The compradore explained that the correspondent appeared to be a business connection of Mr. Brown’s, for he had tried to find the merchant when he arrived in Moukden some weeks before, and was greatly disappointed and distressed when he learnt what had happened.
“How should I suit?” said Jack, as an idea struck him.
“Ch’hoy!” exclaimed the compradore. “Master a servant?”
“Why not? I should be able to move about then; as the servant of a European I should run less risk of being suspected either by Russians or Chinese than if I were a masterless man; and I might—the chance is small, but still it is a chance—I might come upon some trace of my father if attached to a foreign correspondent, whose duties will surely take him from place to place.”
“But, master, a servant! And to a foreigner; not even a Yinkelis or a Melican man, but a Toitsche! Ch’hoy!”
There was a world of contempt in the Chinaman’s tone. To the average Chinaman all “foreign devils” are alike; only those whose business brings them into relations with Europeans recognize degrees.
“I know you don’t like the Germans; but what does it matter, Mr. Hi? A German is less likely to see through my disguise than an Englishman. Besides, of a hundred virtues, filial piety is the best. You know the maxim?”
The compradore scratched his head. He found these ideas difficult to reconcile. But after some further talk he yielded, and promised to go to the correspondent early next morning and offer the services of Sin Foo, a young man whose honesty and industry he could guarantee.
A little before noon next day he returned. The correspondent was delighted with the prospect of engaging a suitable man, but must see the candidate first. He was living with a number of other correspondents at the Green Dragon Hotel, and wished to see Sin Foo at once.
“Is Monsieur Brin there?” asked Jack instantly.
“No, master. He went to Harbin a week ago. He was very sad.”
“Lucky for me! Then we’ll go at once, Mr. Hi.”
The neighbours had already been prepared to see Hi An’s relative out-of-doors at last; the application to Mr. Imperfect-In-Every-Part-Of-His-Body had been abundantly successful. Most of them were engaged in their usual occupations at that time of day, and Jack attracted little notice as he walked through the streets at Hi An’s side. At the hotel he was presented to a short, corpulent German, wearing gold spectacles and a battered wide-awake, and smoking a huge pipe.
“He belongey Sin Foo,” said Hi An.
Jack made the kowtow in the most approved style. The German looked him up and down.
“So!” he said. “You been servant before?”
“Suttingly,” replied Jack, remembering his fagging days at school.
“So! You strong?”
“My plenty stlong, masta!”
“Not afraid of little box?”
“No fea’! My cally littee box this-side, that-side, allo-side, all-same.”
“Goot! You are shust ze man I seek. Now to fix ze so imbortant business of vages. Business are business. Vat you say to ten yen—ach! I zink still I am in Japan: vat say you to ten dollar per mensem—ze monce?”
“Allo-lightee—” began Jack, but the compradore interposed.
“Ch’hoy! Ten piecee dollar! Ph’ho! My hab catchee Sin Foo—one piecee first-chop man; he numpa one boy; my fetchee he this-side; no can makee pidgin so-fashion for littee bittee cash. Sin Foo, come wailo chop-chop; folin genelum no savvy pidgin China-side fashion.”
The compradore’s intervention showed Jack that he must needs exercise every care if he was to play his part properly. To have accepted the German’s first offer without bargaining would have betrayed him to any travelled man. After an hour’s discussion an arrangement was concluded between the stranger and Hi An. Sin Foo was to have nothing else to do but to take charge of the photographic apparatus. The terms agreed upon were so high that the German declared that he must dismiss his mafoo and engage a cheaper man. Whereupon the compradore suggested Hi Lo to fill the place, and Jack regarded the opportunity as almost a special providence, for he had been dreading the discomforts and dangers that might arise from enforced companionship with a Chinese mafoo. With Hi Lo for a fellow-servant, however, he need fear neither danger nor discomfort, and he was pleased when the German accepted the boy, but at ridiculously low wages.
Jack was to enter upon his duties at once. As soon as the compradore had gone to fetch Hi Lo, the German took the opportunity to explain who and what he was.
“I cannot shpeak your bidgin talk,” he said. “You understan’ blain English, boy?”
“My savvy littee bit Yinkelis; my tly understan’ masta—he talkee Yinkelis first-chop.”
“Ver’ vell. Now you call me Excellenz; you can say zat?”
“No, not a bit of it.”
The phrase slipped out before Jack could check it. Luckily the German was not aware of the lapsus linguae.
“Zat is not bolite English; you should say, ‘No, sir, I am sorry, or I regret, zat I cannot say Excellenz.’ Vell, can you call me ‘mein Herr-r-r’?”
“He no belongey lightee China-side. My no can talkee so-fashion. China boy tly; he say ‘mine hell’.”
“Ach!” grunted the German. “Zat vill nefer do, not at all. But I cannot vaste ze time to egsblain. You must zen call me—master. Ver’ vell. Now, my name is Schwab—Hildebrand Schwab.” Jack suddenly remembered the letter his father had shown him on the day before the arrest; this, then, was the representative of Schlagintwert & Co. and correspondent of the Illustrirte Vaterland und Colonien. “And remember zis,” continued Schwab. “If you meet any man vat vant Birmingham screw, Manchester soft goots, Viltshire bacon, or hair-oil, superfine, you vill let me know at vunce—at vunce. Ven ze var is ofer I shall do goot business in all zose zinks—ja, and many more. It is only in var zat I am gorresbondent; in beace I rebresent ze solid firma Schlagintwert Gombany of Düsseldorf. You understan’?”
“Allo lightee, Herr.”
“Ver’ goot, ver’ goot inteed. You say it not so bad. Now I tell you ozer zink. I haf come at great egsbense from San Francisco to take photographs of ze scenes of var. I am already some veeks here, vaiting, vaiting, for bermission to go to ze front. You understan’? At last it come. I haf it now in my pockett. How do I get it? Ach! it vas qvite simble. Ven I am tired of vaiting, I go to Herr Oberst Pesteech, bresscensor, and I say: ‘Your servant, noble sir; Hildebrand Schwab. Entweder you give me ze bermission to see zis var business, or I vire to our Kaiser who is in Berlin. At Berlin, and viz ze Kaiser, business are business.’ Zat is ze vay I shpeak. So I return to my hotel: siehe da! ze bermission is already zere. Zat vere business. Ver’ vell. Now I tell you vat ve do. To-morrow ve go to ze front, vere ze var is. You vill haf ze camera; you vill assist me to make my photographs. I vill learn you how. And give notice, boy, zat I am not bermitted to photograph ze bositions of ze Russian army; nor Russian troops on ze march; nor Russian troops in action, egzept I get anozer bermission from ze Russian general. Vat is zat for a kind of bermission I do not say. Zerefore you vill take photographs ven I tell you, and no ozer time. You understan’?”
“Savvy allo masta talkee; my tinkey velly nice.”
“So; come zen viz me; I vill learn you ze—ze—ze control of ze photographabbaratus.”