XIII
It was ten o’clock the second night in town, and Soichi had been asleep in his warm red blankets two hours or more when the sergeant shook him awake and told him to get up. He was to take rifle and cartridge belt and follow, making no noise. In the darkness he joined a squad of his mates and saw Omori, Ito, and two or three others of his friends, all equipped as he was. Presently an officer came up and Soichi recognized Kokan. He saw the lieutenant give him a sharp look, and heard him mutter something he did not understand. Then without a wordKokan strode away and the sergeant told them to come on. Nothing had been said of the duty, but Soichi knew it was not sentry-go and guessed they were going scouting.
In silence broken only by the muffled footsteps on the soft earth they followed Kokan to the river’s edge. A man with a boat was waiting and they stepped in softly, careful to make no noise. The man stood up, and with his long oar skillfully and silently drove the boat out into the stream.
In a whisper the order was passed to load magazines, but not to fire except to avoid capture. The hard, metallic click of a magazine spring betrayed the haste of one of the men in shoving his cartridge home. In the ghostly stillness it came like the crack of a rifle and brought a sharp whisper from Kokan:
“Kutami, was that you?”
But Soichi had thought of that and muffled his magazine with his blouse so that no sound came from it.
“Even here!” he thought, surprised. “Will he forget his duty to think of me now? Well, he shall have no just complaint.”
Softly the boat came up to the bank of the island, and noiselessly the men made their wayto land. Then, while they gathered about him in a ring, Kokan whispered their instructions. They were to spread out and endeavor to get by the Russian outposts concealed in the clumps of willows that dotted the island, to work across to the next stream, note the width of the island and the character of the ground, the number of the outposts of the enemy they saw and their position. They had three hours for the work. At the end of that time they must be back at the boat. Any who did not return would be left to get back to camp as best he could. They must estimate the time, and in no case strike matches to consult watches. Kokan asked each man if he understood, and when all replied that they did he sent them away one by one. Then he himself started straight across the island alone.
Soichi had the downstream end of the line. It was a bad time for such work, one of those blue-black nights when the stars shine with multiplied brilliance, and the white sand of the island was a dangerous background for their dark uniforms. He took a long look at the heavens to select a guide and then pushed away from the bank, and, crouching stealthily, walked with long steps directly toward a singlewillow that stood a few yards inshore. There he paused and took stock of his situation. Off to his right he saw dimly a dark figure crawling across the sand. It was one of his comrades, and he realized what a telltale his uniform was. With sudden resolve he took it Off, and smiled to see how his gray flannels matched the sand. Then he pulled off his boots, and with only his rifle and shells started on. He walked upright, with the rifle held close by his side, and moved as fast as he could. His soldier’s instinct warned him to avoid the clumps of trees and bushes, and from tree to tree that stood alone he worked his way. A queer fancy struck him to count his steps the better to estimate the distance he traveled, but he soon found that it distracted his attention from his work. So he changed his plan, and at each pause under a bush calculated its distance from the last and mentally kept the sum of the whole. To reckon the time was the hardest, and after a little he gave up guessing at that. He would do his work first and let the time take care of itself.
He saw dimly a dark figure.
He saw dimly a dark figure.
Suddenly as he sat resting and thinking under cover of a thick willow, he heard a sound that seemed close at his left. With every sensealert he gazed in the direction whence it came, and waited. Presently it was repeated, and now he recognized a man’s voice, husky and guttural from the unsuccessful effort to whisper. He lay face down on the sand to muffle his heart, for it seemed that the enemy surely must hear its beating. Then as he watched he saw a match struck in a clump of willows scarcely forty yards away, and presently caught the glow of a lighted cigarette. Soon another and another appeared, and then their aroma came faintly to him across the night. Three men awake, he thought; did that mean a dozen in the post? He wasted no time in guessing, but flat on his face wriggled away across the sand. He was inside the line of outposts now, and when he had crawled a long distance and put some bushes between himself and the men he had so nearly run into, he rose and walked rapidly forward.
He had advanced what he calculated to be nearly a mile from the boat, and thought he must be nearing the stream he was seeking. The ground became less sandy and there were fewer trees and bushes. He thought it unlikely that the Russians would have more outposts there. He had almost concluded to make a runfor it to the river, when a rifle shot to his right and behind him sent him flat to the ground in breathless suspense. Someone had been discovered! Other shots followed, and then a fusillade that sounded like that morning brush when he had first heard fire. He crawled to the nearest bush and lay still.
No bullets whistled his way and he heard no reports from the rifles of his men. The fire was all Russian, and he hoped it was only a scare and that his men had got away. Then he saw that the firing was extending toward the river, and the reports of Japanese rifles mingled in the sound. They were caught back there, and his heart stood still at the thought that the success of the night’s work might depend on him. From the direction in which the firing came he thought the Russians must be near his boat. Perhaps his party were all cut off and killed, or worse than that, captured.
The firing ceased, and he lay under his bush and wondered what to do. He remembered that he had not yet reached the river, and he rose and ran swiftly forward. Soon he caught the gleam of water, and in a moment was at the bank. He lay down and went over his calculationof the distance he had come. Then he looked up at the stars, marked out his course, and started back.
He knew the location of one outpost, and he thought at first his best chance was to go as close to it as he had come. But he reflected that all the sleeping men must have been roused by the firing, and that if they had discovered the boat they would watch to see if any of the scouting party came back to it. No, he must go another way and swim the stream. But he wanted his uniform. He dreaded what would be said to him if he went back without it. How to get it was the question. The aroused Russians were between him and the bush where it lay.
The fire had not extended much to his right and he judged that the line of outposts did not reach far that way. He turned sharply downstream and moved as rapidly as he dared. At times, when the way was open, he ran; but in the bushes it was slow work. At last he ventured to turn back toward his own shore. Cautiously he made his way until the soft lap of the water on the bank caught his ear. Here was the stream. Should he strike in, or try for the uniform? He wondered how long he hadbeen on the island. It might be an hour, it might be two. The night was yet far from spent. A low ridge of sand ran parallel with the bank, shutting the stream from his sight. He moved stealthily to the river side of it and made up his mind to go after his uniform. The ridge would guide him to the bush where it lay, and if worse came to worst a quick leap would take him into the water and he would trust to the darkness to escape the Russian lead.
At first he walked upright, near the water, and traveled rapidly. Then as he approached the point where he judged the Russians might be, he came close under the ridge and crawled on hands and knees. It was ticklish work, and the rifle bothered him badly. Not a sound came to his alert ears. By and by he wriggled to the top of the ridge and peered over. After a time he thought he could make out the willows where the smokers had been. His own bush was not far off now and he crawled on.
A new thought stopped him like a blow. Suppose the Russians had found his clothes and were waiting for him to come for them. That was a matter to be considered, and he pondered it seriously for some time. Then hewent on. He would take the chance. Keeping the ridge between himself and it he crawled opposite the bush and lay a long time listening intently. He was so near he thought he could hear the breathing of any man waiting, and knew he would hear a movement. Not a sound came from the bush, and at length he ventured on. It was but an instant’s work to gather up trousers, blouse, and boots and scuttle back over the ridge.
One foot was in a trouser leg when he stopped. The river was wide and swift. It would be hard enough to swim as he was, and the thick uniform would hamper him terribly. He thought it over a moment, then swiftly rolled up blouse and boots and tied them with the trouser legs in a bundle at the back of his neck. Then he slung his rifle across his back and waded in. The water was icy cold, but he moved slowly lest he make a noise and arouse some Russian. He was up to his waist and almost ready to strike out when an unlucky step brought his foot down on a stone that turned and he stumbled forward with a loud splash.
Instantly there came a hoarse, Russian shout from up the stream and he ducked. As he went down he heard the loud report of a rifleand felt the wind of a bullet over his head. He plunged forward and swam rapidly out and downstream. Low in the water, with head as far down as he could keep it, he put all his strength into his strokes. Behind him the Russians along the shore fired as if charged by an army. The bullets sang over his head and hissed in the water beside him. He heard the roar of the rifles and the shouts of the men, and tried to dive, but under water the bundle and rifle held him back, and he gave that up.
Gradually the firing slackened, and when it ceased he judged by the current that he was in mid-stream. He was very tired now, and very cold. He began to fear he could not get across. But the thought of the disgrace of failure after all he had done nerved him for fresh effort. He had the information the party had been sent to get, and it might be that none of the others had secured it. He must go on. In spite of his exertion the cold was agonizing. His bones ached from it, and his heart was bursting with the strain. He had done his best. He could do no more. The bank that seemed so near was yet out of reach. He had taken his last stroke. No, one more, and now another.A third, and his feet struck bottom. He staggered out and fell exhausted on the sand.
How long he lay thus he did not know. Aching from head to foot, shivering with cold and with rattling teeth, he struggled to his feet. Somewhere upstream lay his goal and he reeled toward it. Presently the walking warmed him a little. He unslung the bundle from his shoulders and put on the sodden uniform. Then he thrust his feet into the boots and went on. Dawn was breaking when he stood at his captain’s door and heard the voice of Kokan saying:
“That fool Kutami aroused the Russians and we could not go on. We just barely got away. He spoiled it all, and probably was captured as well.”
Then he went in and reported, and when he finished, heard, like a voice in a dream, his captain’s comment:
“That is the spirit ofYamato Damashii!” (the soul of old Japan).
He turned and went out, with Kokan staring after him in speechless amazement.