"And now," said he, "you have ten minutes in which to discuss the question with your friends, in which to make up your mind. Say that you agree, and my messenger leaves for Hong-Kong within an hour. Refuse, and you die before another sun has risen."
With that Cheong-Chau turned upon his heel and, followed by Men-Ching, shuffled from the cave.
CHAPTER VII.
--HOW THE LETTER WAS WRITTEN.
Neither the judge nor Mr Waldron desired so much as ten minutes in which to arrive at a decision. Twenty thousand dollars is by no means an impossible sum to a man who is a millionaire. Even the judge himself would have found little difficulty in producing the money with a few days" notice.
Cheong-Chau, and even Yung How, who was more conversant with the manners and customs of Europeans, had underestimated the wealth of Mr Waldron. To them twenty thousand dollars represented almost fabulous wealth. It never occurred to them that they might have asked twice as much, and secured it with no greater difficulty; for we meet the real miser more in fiction and in fable than in real life, and there are few men who will not part readily with the whole of their fortune in exchange for the most valuable of all human possessions: life, the right to walk upon the face of the earth, to breathe the air of heaven.
Cheong-Chau re-entered the cave, holding in the palm of his hand the gold watch he had stolen from Mr Waldron.
"Ten minutes," said he. "I trust you are ready with your answer."
Men-Ching stood at his side, and behind his back was a score of his ruffians, each man with a naked sword.
"We have considered your proposal," said the judge, "and we agree to it." He spoke the Cantonese language with difficulty, and his p.r.o.nunciation was faulty. However, there is little doubt that Cheong-Chau understood him, for the man nodded his head with an air of satisfaction.
"You are wise," said he. "Rumour has not lied."
"One moment," said Sir Thomas, taking him up. "There is one question we would ask you. If the money is sent from Hong-Kong, and taken in safety to your hiding-place, what guarantee do you propose to give us that you will set us at liberty or even spare our lives?"
"How would I gain by killing you?" asked the bandit, with a shrug of his narrow shoulders.
"I have lived in China," said the judge, "for more than thirty years. I know that there are men in this country--and I see no reason why you should not be numbered amongst them--to whom murder is a pastime, who kill for the sake of killing, who derive a fiendish pleasure from torturing the innocent."
Cheong-Chau carried a hand to his face and stroked his wrinkled chin.
"I see that you are prudent," said he. "For myself, I never bargain with fools."
"Do you mean," asked the judge, "if the conditions are fulfilled on our part, you will guarantee our safety?"
"I mean no such thing," said Cheong-Chau. "I guarantee nothing."
"Then we have naught to rely upon," the judge answered, "but your oath--the oath of a robber?"
"That is so," said the other.
"And may I ask," said the judge, "how much Cheong-Chau reverences the Five Sacred Books?"
The Chinese answered nothing, but stretched forth a hand, and deliberately snapped his fingers.
Sir Thomas shrugged his shoulders and turned away.
"We must make the best of a bad business," said he to Mr Waldron. "I tell you frankly, I don"t trust these men. I know what such scoundrels are."
He spoke in English, and whilst he did so was conscious of a gentle touch upon the shoulder. He turned and beheld Men-Ching, who presented him with a bra.s.s Chinese ink-box, a large piece of rice-paper and a writing-brush. "Write your letter," said the old man, "to the English Viceroy of Hong-Kong. Tell him that the sum of twenty thousand dollars, in silver, must be hidden under the red stone in the Glade of Children"s Tears, before the waning of the moon."
"Where is this place?" asked Sir Thomas.
"On the Sang-kiang, five Chinese li to the north of the city of Canton. A narrow path leads due north from the Five-Storied PaG.o.da. This path crosses the hills and descends into the valley of the Sang River--a very beauteous place."
"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 a.s.suredly 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 G.o.ds 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 pa.s.sed 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 gla.s.s 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 quant.i.ty 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 G.o.ds 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.
[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. WALDRON NEVER MOVED AN INCH.]
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 att.i.tude 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 c.o.c.kolorum," 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 a.s.suredly 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."
He spoke of such atrocities as if they were nothing. He was so calm about it all that the judge looked at him, wondering whether he was one of the few really brave men in the world, or whether he was entirely devoid of imagination. In any case, Mr Waldron withdrew his claim to be allowed to undertake the adventure; and the choice fell upon Frank.
Once this all-important question was settled, it was obvious that there was nothing to be gained--indeed, there was much to lose--by putting off Frank"s departure. The sooner he was away the better, though they did not then realise the supreme importance of time, the alarming fact that the lives both of Sir Thomas and Mr Waldron were to hang upon the thin thread of a few seconds.
It was decided that Frank should endeavour to make his escape from the cave that night. It was in the act of pa.s.sing the sentries, posted at the entrance, that the bulk of his danger would lie. Once the boy succeeded in getting away from the cave, his absence would probably not be discovered until the following morning. He would, in that case, have several hours" start of any pursuers whom Cheong-Chau might think fit to send after him.
Frank had already considered the contingency of making a dash for liberty. He had, so far as he had been able to do so from the interior of the cave, studied the lie of the land. He had noticed that the sentries were not particularly vigilant and that they were armed with old-fashioned, out-of-date fire-arms which they possibly knew not how to use. One of these was a Martini-Henry carbine, and Frank had on one occasion seen a Chinese trying in vain to lower the lever, which was so rusted on to the lock that it was quite certain that the breech could never be opened.
Immediately before the entrance to the cave was the huge boulder, or rock, which has already been described. On either side of this rock a sentry was always posted. But these men did not necessarily face the cave. Indeed, as often as not, they looked the other way, interesting themselves in the wide panorama extended before them. None the less, since the two pa.s.sages on either side of the boulder were very narrow, one could never hope to pa.s.s without being seen. Escape that way, therefore, was impossible without a struggle, which meant that the alarm would be given and a party would immediately start in pursuit of the fugitive.
This was what Frank most wanted to avoid. He knew that his attempt was doomed to failure if he did not succeed in getting well away. He therefore examined the rock itself, and saw at once that it would be quite easy to climb to the top of it. Since he could not pa.s.s round this obstacle he would have to go over it. On the other side, as he knew, was the steep mountain slope descending hundreds of feet to the bed of the valley. Whether he could climb down the slope at all, much less do so silently, so as not to be overheard by the sentries, was another question. He was resolved, however, to take the risk. It was clear that there was no other alternative. It was a perilous business, but he must make the best of it, trusting to Providence, as well as his own agility and presence of mind.
CHAPTER IX.
--OF THE HOSPITALITY OF THE TEA-GROWER.
They waited until nearly midnight, when Cheong-Chau and his ruffians were sound asleep, and only the sentries awake. That day, both Sir Thomas and Mr Waldron had eaten no food since the morning meal, so that Frank might not set forth upon his journey unprovided. He would certainly not be able to procure anything to eat in the desolate mountain region, though with his intimate knowledge of the Chinese language the boy should not experience any difficulty in procuring rice, millet, or even fish, in the valley of the main river.