Barr Robert
A Chicago Princess
CHAPTER XX
On reaching the yacht I went directly to the old gentleman’s office and handed him Cammerford’s letter, which he tore open, read, and tossed on the desk.
“Mr. Hemster,” said I, while an emotion which I had not suspected myself of possessing caused my voice to tremble a little; “Mr. Hemster, I don’t know how I can thank you for what you have done for me to-day.”
“Oh, that’s all right, that’s all right!” he said gruffly, as if the reference annoyed him. “What you need is a guardian.”
“I think,” said I, “I have secured one.”
The old gentleman glanced up at me quickly.
“Is that so? Well, if the land lays as I have suspected, I congratulate you. Yes, and I congratulate Hilda also. As for a guardian, you have chosen a good one, and now don’t begin to thank me over again, but go and tell her all about it.”
Thus dismissed, I went to the saloon, and there found the lady of whom I was in search, and persuaded her to come up on deck with me. In spite of the vexatious interruption to which we had been forced to submit at this spot, I had become attached to the locality of the two chairs and the wicker table.
“I like this place,” said I, “for its associations, and yet I am certain, the moment we begin to talk, Mr. Hemster will order me overboard, or his daughter will tell you to go down below.”
“There is no immediate danger,” answered Hilda. “Mr. Hemster is busy, and his daughter has not returned from Nagasaki; I suspect, however, that you should be down in the office helping your chief, rather than up here frivolously gossiping with me.”
“I am obeying orders in being up here. My chief, as you call him, told me to search you out and tell you all about it.”
“All about what?”
“Did you tell Mr. Hemster anything of our conversation after I left?”
“Not a word. Poor dear, his mind was occupied with other matters. He talked about you, and fished, – in, oh, such an awkward way, – to find out what I thought of you. He gave me much good counsel which I shall ever treasure, and he warned me to beware of fascinating young men, and not allow myself to become too deeply interested. Indeed I yearned to let him know that his caution was already too late; but, not being sure whether that would ease his mind or cause it greater anxiety, I held my peace. I wish you would tell him. Perhaps I should do it myself, but I cannot find the exact words, I am afraid.”
“I’ll tell him with great pleasure. No, to be honest, I have already told him.”
“Really, and what did he say?”
“Oh, he said I needed a guardian, and I informed him I had already secured one. He twigged the situation in a moment, congratulated me on my choice, and ordered me to come and tell you all about it.”
“Tell me all about what? I’ve asked you that before.”
“Why, about the money with which we are to start housekeeping. Mr. Hemster estimates that it will amount to something more than half a million.”
Hilda sat back in her chair with a remote resemblance to a frown on her pretty brow.
“That was what you were discussing with Mr. Hemster, was it?” she said primly.
“Of course. Don’t you think it most important?”
“I suppose it is.”
“He certainly thought so, and looked on me as very fortunate coming into such a tidy sum so easily.”
“Easily! Did he, indeed?”
“Yes, he’s awfully pleased about it, and so am I.”
“I am delighted to hear it.”
“He said you would be, and he regards me as more than lucky, which, to tell the truth, I acknowledge that I am. You see it was such a complete surprise. I hadn’t expected anything at all, and to find myself suddenly the possessor of such a sum, all because of a few words, seemed almost too good to be true.”
Hilda was leaning back in her chair; there was no question about the frown now, which was visible enough, and, as I prattled on, the displeasure in her speaking eyes became deeper and deeper.
“All because of a few words!” she murmured, as if talking to herself.
“Certainly. Plain, simple, straightforward words, yet look what an effect they had. They practically make me an independent man, even rich, as I should count riches, although I suppose Mr. Hemster wouldn’t consider the amount very important.”
“Probably not, but you seem to look upon the amount as very, very important, – even of paramount importance, I should say.”
“Oh, not of paramount importance, of course, but nevertheless I shall always regard this day as the most fortunate of my life.”
“Really? Because of the money, I suppose?”
“Now, Hilda,” I protested, “you must admit that money is exceedingly necessary.”
“I do admit it. So Mr. Hemster was more pleased about your getting the money than anything else?”
“Oh, I don’t say that, but he certainly was delighted with my luck, and what true friend wouldn’t be? I am sure my people at home will be overjoyed when they hear the news.”
“Because of the money?” reiterated Hilda, with more of irritation in her tone than I had ever heard there before.
“Why not? Such a lump of gold is not won every day.”
“By a few simple words,” suggested Hilda tartly.
“Exactly. If you choose the psychological moment and use the right words they form a great combination, I can tell you, and success is sure to follow.”
“Deserving man! I think those that called you a fool were mistaken, don’t you?”
“Yes, I rather imagine they are, and in fact that has been admitted.”
“So you and Mr. Hemster have been discussing this money question down in your office?”
“Yes, at first, of course. I began about the money at once, and thanked him sincerely for what he had done.”
“You were quite right; if it had not been for him there would have been no money to make you so jubilant.”
“That’s exactly what I told him. ‘Mr. Hemster’ said I, ‘if it had not been for your action I should never have got a penny.’”
“Well,” said Hilda, with a little break in her voice that went right to my heart and made me ashamed of myself, while the moisture gathered in her eyes, “and so you and Mr. Hemster at last got to me, and began to discuss me after the money question had been exhausted. Really, I suppose I should be thankful to have received so much attention. I wish I had known that gold occupied so large a space in your thoughts, and then I should have entered more accurately into particulars. I told you the amount was two or three times the face value of the stock, but it is what you say, over half a million, and now if you don’t mind I shall go downstairs for a while.”
“I do mind. I want to speak to you, Hilda.”
“I would rather not talk any more just now. If you are wise you will say nothing until I have had time to think it all over.”
“But I never claimed to be wise, Hilda. Sit down again, I beg of you. Indeed you must, I shall not let you go at this juncture.”
The flash in her eyes chased away the mist that had veiled them.
“Sir,” she cried, “you are only making matters worse. If you have any care for me, say no more until I see you again.”
“Hilda,” said I, “I can make it all right with you in five minutes. What will you bet?”
“If you are jesting, I am tired of it. Can’t you see I don’t want to talk. Don’t you understand you have said enough? Do be content. I wish I hadn’t a penny of money, and that I had never told you.”
I now became aware that I was on the horns of a dilemma; I had gone too far, as a stupid man will who thinks he is on the track of a joke. The dear girl was on the verge of tears, and I saw that if I suddenly proclaimed the jest her sorrow would turn into anger against me, and my last state might be worse than my first. I had got this joke by the tail, and the whole dilemma arose through not knowing whether it was safer to hang on or let go. I quickly decided to hang on. I trusted to escape by reason of our national reputation for unreadiness, and determined to stand to my guns and proclaim that all along I had been speaking of my own fortune and not of hers. My obtuseness she would pity and forgive, but ill-timed levity and trifling with her most cherished feelings on this day of all others might produce consequences I dared not face.
“Hilda,” I said, with what dignity I could bring to my command, “you actually seem sorry at my good fortune. I assure you I expected you would rejoice with me. When I spoke to you this morning I was to all intents and purposes a penniless man, and yet, as Mr. Hemster himself informed you, I had but an hour before refused two hundred and fifty thousand dollars as a bribe. That money was but half of the fortune which this man Cammerford had previously looted from me. Now, through a few simple words in the letter Mr. Hemster wrote to him, this man is going to refund the whole half million, with interest for three years at six per cent. Therefore, my darling, imagine the delight with which I learned of this great stroke of good luck. No living person could assert here or hereafter that I was an impecunious fortune-hunter, although equally, of course, no person could have convinced you that your money weighed a particle with me when I asked you to honour me as you have done. And now, really perhaps I am too sensitive, but it seems to me that you do not take the news so kindly as I had expected.”
She swayed a moment, then sank helplessly down into the armchair again.
“Rupert,” she said, looking across at me with a puzzled pathos in her eyes that made me ashamed of myself; “Rupert, what are you talking about? Or am I dreaming? What half million is this you are referring to? I told you that my fortune was two or three times the hundred thousand, but I supposed you had found out its real value. Now you seem to have been speaking of something else.”
“Hilda,” I cried, with a horror that I hope was well simulated, – Lord forgive me for the necessity of using it, – “Hilda, you never supposed for a moment that I was referring to your money?”
Her troubled face seemed fixed on something intangible in the distance, as if her mind were trying to recall our conversation, that she might find some point in what I had said to account for the mistake she supposed herself to have made. The double meaning of my words was apparent enough, but of course every sentence I had uttered applied to her money equally well with my own. Now that enlightenment had come, her supposed error became obtrusively plain to her. She turned her puzzled face to me, and her expression melted into one of great tenderness as she reached forward her two hands and laid her palms on the back of mine, which rested on the wicker table.
“Rupert,” she said in a low voice, “will you forgive me? I have deeply misjudged you.”
“Hilda,” said I, “would you have forgiven me if I had been in the wrong?”
“I would, I would, I would,” she cried, and it was plain that she meant it, yet I did not dare to risk a full confession. What brutes we men are after all, and how much we stand in need of forgiveness every day of our lives!
“Tell me all about this newly found treasure,” she said, and now I launched out on fresh ground once more, resolving never to get on such thin ice again after so narrow an escape. As we talked, the indefatigable little naphtha launch came alongside, and Gertrude Hemster appeared at the gangway, followed by her miniature Countess. Miss Hemster was good enough to ignore us entirely, and, after a few words to her new companion, disappeared down the companion-way. The Countess toddled up to where we sat, and, addressing Hilda, said in her high-keyed Japanese voice:
“Mees Stretton, the mistress desires your attendance immediately,” and with that she toddled away again. Hilda rose at once.
“Don’t go,” I commanded; but she smiled, and held out her hand to me.
“Isn’t it funny,” she said; “you and I together are equal to one millionaire, yet we have to dance attendance when called upon, but, unlike others in bondage, we don’t need to cry, ‘How long, O Lord! how long?’ do we?”
“Not on your life, Hilda, as they say in the Wild West. The day of jubilee is a-coming my dear,” and, in spite of her trying to slip away, I put my arm around her and drew her toward me.
“Oh, the captain is looking at us,” she whispered in alarm.
“The captain is a good friend of ours, and has done the same in his time, I dare say,” and with that I – . Hilda swung herself free and fled, red as a rose. On glancing up at the bridge I noticed that the captain had suddenly turned his back on us. I always did like that rough man from Cape Cod, who would haunt the bridge during his waking hours whether the ship had steam up or not.
CHAPTER XXI
Next day was the most eventful I had spent on the yacht in spite of all that had gone before, for a few moments were filled with a peril which we escaped, as one might say, by a miracle, or more accurately by the prompt and energetic action of a capable man whom I shall always regard with deep affection. If Cape Cod has turned out many like him, it is a notable section of a great country.
Somewhat early in the morning I paid my third visit to the Nagasaki Hotel and brought John C. Cammerford with me to the yacht. He told me he had placed the full amount to my credit in the Bank of Japan, and said he did not need to do any cabling to America. Mr. Hemster was closeted with him in his office until the luncheon gong rang, and the amiable Cammerford was a guest at our table, referring to me several times as his old friend, and recounting stories that were more humourous than accurate about my adventures with him in the Adirondack Mountains and the fishing districts of Canada. I gathered that all the stories he had ever heard of Englishmen he now fastened on me, relating them with great gusto as having come within his own cognizance. Therefore I was delighted to be able to inform him that one of his anecdotes had appeared in Punch in the year 1854, which he promptly denied, whereupon I proposed a modest little wager that was accepted by him under the supposition that I could not prove my assertion. But we happened to have in the library two volumes of Punch for that year, which I had frequently thumbed over, and I now confounded him by their production. I don’t think he minded the money so much as the slight cast on what he supposed to be a genuine American joke. About three o’clock the good man left us in a high state of exultation, carried away by the useful naphtha launch.
We were all on deck about four o’clock in the afternoon when the event happened to which I have referred. Hilda and I were sitting in our chairs by the wicker table, quite boldly in the face of all, for our engagement was now public property. Gertrude Hemster and the little Japanese noblewoman were walking up and down the other side of the deck, and from the snatches of conversation wafted to us it really seemed as if Miss Hemster were learning Japanese. She had passed the ignoring phase so far as I was concerned, and had reached the stage of the icily polite and scrupulously courteous high dame, so that I quite looked forward to an intimate interview with her later on if this change continued. The old gentleman occupied his customary armchair with his feet on the rail, and it is a marvellous thing to record that during all the excitement he never shifted his position. He said afterward that it was the captain’s duty to deal with the crisis, and he had absolute confidence in the captain. This confidence was not misplaced.
The harbor of Nagasaki is usually crowded with shipping, and steamers are continually arriving or departing, consequently they attract but little attention, for they are generally capably managed. Of course a yacht swinging at anchor with no steam up is absolutely helpless if some vessel under way bears down upon her. We were lying broadside on to Nagasaki. I was so absorbed in my conversation with Hilda that I did not notice our danger until the captain put a megaphone to his lips and vehemently hailed an oncoming steamer. Looking up, I saw a huge, black, clumsy craft steaming right down upon us, and knew in a moment that if she did not deflect her course she would cut us in two amidships. The captain, who recognized the nationality of the vessel, although I did not, roared down to me:
“What is the Chinese for ‘Sheer off?’”
I sprang to my feet. “Fling me the megaphone,” I cried. He instantly heaved it down to me, and a moment later I was roaring through it a warning to the approaching steamer. But to this not the slightest attention was paid, nor indeed could I see anyone aboard. The black brute came on as if she were an abandoned ship without captain or crew. She appeared to grow up out of the waters; looming tremendous in size above us, and it did seem as if nothing under Heaven could save us. However, good luck and the resources of our captain did that very thing. The good luck assumed the shape of a tug which came tearing past our stern. The captain by this time was on deck with a coil of rope with a bowline on its end. Not a word did he say to the flying tug, but he swung the rope so unerringly that the loop came down like a flying quoit right on the sternpost of the little vessel. In a flash the captain had the end he held twisted twice around a huge iron cleat at our side.
“Lie down, you women, at once,” he roared, bracing his feet against the cleat and hanging back upon the end of the rope.
Hilda obeyed instantly, but Miss Hemster, with the Countess clinging to her, stood dazed, while I sprang forward and caught her, breaking the fall as much as was possible, all three of us coming down in a heap with myself underneath. The rope had tightened like a rod, and had either to break, jerk the tug backward out of the water, or swing us around, which latter it did, taking the yacht from under us with a suddenness that instantly overcame all equilibrium, and in a jiffy we were at right angles to our former position, while the black hulk scraped harmlessly along our side. Even now no one appeared on the deck of the Chinese steamer, but after running a hundred yards nearer the city she slowly swerved around, heading outward again, and I thought she was about to escape; but instead of that she came to a standstill a quarter of a mile or so from our position and there coolly dropped anchor.
I helped the ladies to their feet again, inquiring if they were hurt, and Miss Hemster replied with a sweet smile that, thanks to me, she was not. The Countess showed signs of hysterics with which I could not deal, therefore I turned my attention to Hilda, who by this time had scrambled up, looking rather pale and frightened. Mr. Hemster’s chair had been swung with a crash against the bulwarks, and he had been compelled to take his feet down from the rail, but beyond that he kept his old position, chewing industriously at his unlit cigar. The captain was in a ludicrously pitiable position because of a red-hot Cape Cod rage and his inability to relieve his feelings by swearing on account of the ladies being present. Hilda noticed this and cried with a little quivering laugh:
“Don’t mind us, captain; say what you want to, and it is quite likely we will agree with you.”
The captain shook his huge fist at the big steamer now rounding to her anchorage.
“You can say what you please,” he shouted; “that was no accident; it was intended. That damned, – I beg your pardon, ladies, – that chap tried to run us down, and I’ll have the law of him, dod-blast-him, – excuse me, ladies, – if there’s any law in this God-forsaken hole!”
Mr. Hemster very calmly shoved his chair back to its former position, and put his feet once more on the rail, then he beckoned to the captain, and when that angry hero reached his side he said imperturbably, as if nothing had happened:
“Captain, there’s no use swearing. Besides, so capable a man as you never needs to swear. In that half minute you earned ten thousand dollars, and I’ll make it more if you don’t think it enough.”
“Nonsense,” protested the captain, “it’s all in the day’s work: a lucky throw of the rope, that’s all.”
“Now I see that you want to swear at somebody,” Mr. Hemster went on, “and suppressed profanity is bad for the system; so I suppose you’ll prefer to swear at the person mostly to blame. Get into the launch with Mr. Tremorne here, who will translate for you, because our oaths, unlike our gold, are not current in every country. Go over to that black monstrosity; get aboard of her; find out what their game is, and swear at whoever is responsible. When we know their object we can take action, either by law, or by hiring some pirate to run her down and see how she likes it herself. I want to get at the bottom of this business.”
The upshot was that the captain and I got into the naphtha launch and made directly for the Chinese steamer. We went around her twice, but saw not a soul on board, neither was there any ladder alongside by which we could ascend, or even a rope; so, after calling in vain for them to throw us a line, the captain, with an agility I should not have expected of his years and bulk, caught hold of the anchor-chain and worked himself up over the bow. His head appearing over the rail must have been a stupefying surprise to the crew, whom he found lying flat on their faces on deck. I followed the captain up the anchor-chain route, though in somewhat less effective fashion, until I was at the captain’s heels. He had thrown one leg across the rail, when he whipped out a revolver and fired two rapid shots, which were followed by howls of terror. The crew had sprung to their feet and flashed out knives, but his quick revolver-shots stopped the attack even before it was rightly begun. We both leaped over the rail to the deck. The cowardly crew were huddled in a heap; no one had been killed, but two were crippled and crawled moaning on the deck; the rest had ceased their outcry and crouched together with that hopeless air of resignation to take stolidly whatever fate had in store for them, which is characteristic of the lower-class Chinese. They expected instant death and were prepared to meet it with nonchalance.
“Where is your captain?” I asked them in their own tongue.
Several of them made a motion of their head toward a low deck-house aft.
“Go and bring him,” I said to one who seemed rather more intelligent than the rest. He got on his feet and went into the deck-house, presently emerging with a trembling man who admitted he was the captain.
“What did you mean,” I asked him, “by trying to run us down?”
He spread out his hands with a gesture that seemed to indicate his helplessness, and maintained that it was all an accident.
“That is not true,” I insisted, but nothing could budge him from his statement that the steering-gear had gone wrong and he had lost control of the ship.
“Why didn’t you stop the engines when you saw where you were going?” I asked.
He had become panic-stricken, he said, and so had the crew. The engineer had run up on deck, and there was no one to shut off steam. I knew the man was lying, and told our captain so, whereupon he pressed the muzzle of his revolver against the other’s forehead.
“Now question him,” he said.
I did so, but the captain simply relapsed into the condition of his crew, and not another word could I get out of him.
“It’s no use,” I said to our captain, “these people don’t mind being shot in the least. You might massacre the whole lot, and yet not get a word of truth out of any one of them previous to their extinction. Nevertheless, until you kill them they are in some wholesome fear of firearms, so if you keep the drop on the captain and his men I’ll penetrate this deck-house and see what it contains.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” said our captain, “they’re treacherous dogs, I imagine, and, while afraid to meet us in broad daylight on deck here, they might prove mighty handy with the knife in the darkness of that shanty. No, send the captain in and order him to bring out all his officers, if he’s got any.”
This seemed practical advice, so, asking our captain to remove his revolver from the other’s forehead, I said to the latter:
“How many officers have you?”
He answered that there were five.
“Very well, go and bring them all out on deck here.”
He gave the order to one of the crew, who went into the deck-house and presently came out with five discouraged-looking Chinese ship’s officers. There was nothing to be made out of this lot; they simply stood in a row and glowered at us without answering. Whenever I put a question to them they glanced at the captain, then turned their bovine gaze upon me, but never once did one of them open his mouth.
“Now, captain,” said I, “I propose that we herd this whole mob, officers and men, into the forecastle. The windlass, anchor-tackle, and all that will impede them, if they endeavour to take concerted action. You stand here on the clear deck with your two revolvers and keep an eye on them. The captain and officers will probably imagine you understand Chinese, too, so they will give no orders. Then I shall penetrate into the deck-house, for I am convinced that we have not yet come upon the responsible man. I don’t believe this fellow is the captain at all.”
To all this my comrade agreed, although he still demurred at my entering the deck-house. I ordered the men forward and then lined the alleged captain and his officers along the rail near them, and, while my captain stood by with a revolver in each hand, I, similarly equipped, went down three steps into the low cabin. It was a dangerous move if there had been anyone of courage within, for there were no windows, and what little light penetrated the place came in through the open door, and that was now largely shut out by the bulk of my body. Knowing that I was rather conspicuously silhouetted against the outside glare and formed an easy mark for either pistol or knife, I stepped down as quickly as possible and then stood aside. I thought at first the place was empty, but as my eyes became accustomed to the gloom I saw that a bench ran around three walls and in the further corner was a huddled figure which I knew.
“Ah, Excellency Hun Woe!” I cried, covering him with the revolver, “it is to you then we were to have been indebted for our death.”
The wretch flung himself on his face at my feet, moaning for mercy. A Corean never has the nonchalance of a Chinaman when danger confronts him.
“Get up from the floor and sit down where you were,” I said; “I want to have some conversation with you.” Then I went to the door again and cried to the captain:
“It’s all right. There is no one here but the Prime Minister of Corea, and I think I begin to see daylight so far as this so-called accident is concerned. I want to have a few minutes’ talk with him, so, unless you hear a pistol-shot, everything is going well.”
“Good enough,” cried the genial captain, “you play a lone hand for all it’s worth, and I’ll hold up these hoodlums while you pow-wow.”
“Now, Hun Woe,” I cried, turning to him, “what is the meaning of this dastardly trick?”
“Oh, Excellency,” he moaned, “I am the most miserable of men.”
“Yes, you are. I admit that, and, furthermore, unless you tell the truth you are in some danger of your life at this moment.”
“My life,” he went on, – and I knew he spoke truly enough, – “is already forfeited. My family and my kinsmen are all in the hands of the Emperor. Their heads will fall if I do not bring back the white woman whom the Emperor has chosen for his mate.”
“But how in Heaven’s name would it have brought back the white woman if you had run us down and drowned us all?”
“We have expert swimmers aboard,” he said, “divers brought for the purpose, who would have saved the white woman, and indeed,” he added hurriedly, “would have saved you all, but the white woman we would have brought back with us.”
“What a hairbrained scheme!” I cried.
“Yes, Excellency, it is not mine. I but do what I am ordered to do. The Emperor wished to sink the war-vessel of the American King so that he might not invade our coasts.”
“Is it true that the Empress has been murdered?”
“Ah, not murdered, Excellency; she died of a fever.”
“She looked anything but feverish when I saw her the day before,” I insisted.
“We are all in God’s hands,” said the Prime Minister with a shrug of resignation, “and death sometimes comes suddenly.”
“It does indeed in Seoul,” I commented, whereupon the Prime Minister groaned aloud, thinking probably of his own impending fate and that of his wife, children, and kinsfolk.
“Excellency,” he went on with the courage of desperation, “it is all your fault. If you had not brought that creature to Seoul, I would have been a happy man to-day. I have always been your friend, and it is said your country stands by its friends; but that, I fear, is not true. You can help me now, but perhaps you will not do it.”
“I admit it is largely my fault, although, like yourself, I was merely the Prime Minister on our side of the affair. Nevertheless, if there is anything I can do to help you, Hun Woe, I shall be very glad to do it.”
He brightened up perceptibly at this, and said eagerly, as if to give further spur to my inclination:
“If you do, I will make you a rich man, Excellency.”
Nothing showed the desperate nature of his case more conclusively than this offer of money, which is always a Corean’s very last card.
“I do not want a single sek from you, Hun Woe; in fact I am willing to give away many thousands of them if it will aid you. Tell me what I can do for you. I will even go so far as to return with you to Seoul and beg or bribe the Emperor’s clemency.”
“That would indeed be useless,” demurred the Prime Minister; “His Majesty would promise you anything and take what money you liked to give him; but my body would be dismembered as soon as you were gone, and all my kinsfolk killed or sent to slavery.”
I knew this to be an accurate presentation of the case.
“What, then, can I do for you?” I asked.
He lowered his voice, his little eyes glittering.
“There is but one thing to do, and that is to get the white woman on board this ship.”
“To kidnap her? That is impossible; you cannot do it here in Japan, and you could not do it even if the ship were lying in Chemulpo roadstead. It is a dream of foolishness, and if your Emperor had any sense he would know it could not be done.”
