"'It is a terrible thing, is a wreck on this coast.'""'It is a terrible thing, is a wreck on this coast.'"
"'Please do not shoot me!'""'Please do not shoot me!'"
'I believe this forest goes on to the end of the world!' exclaimed the Colonel of the 18th Hanoverian regiment at the close of an autumn day in the year 1750. 'I was told it was a six hours' journey to Schustadt, but it seems as if we must tramp right across Germany to reach it.'
'I wonder if we have taken a wrong track?' answered the Major, who was riding by his side, whilst behind trudged the men, their white breeches, scarlet coats, and three-cornered hats looking strangely out of place in that dense pine forest.
'We must find out somehow,' said the Colonel, reining up his horse. 'There must be a peasant of some sort in these regions—a wood-cutter or charcoal burner. Call a halt, Wenzler, and let the men scatter in different directions, and tell the first who finds any one capable of acting as guide to bring him straight to me.'
The halt was called, the order given, and the soldiers disappeared amongst the pine trunks, amidst laughter and declarations from each that he would be the first to find a guide. The discovery, however, fell to Schmidt, a young corporal, who had hardly gone a hundred yards into the forest before he came on a lad who was amusing himself by gathering raspberries.
Schmidt was fond of what he called a joke, and laying a rough hand on the lad's shoulder, he said, in a voice purposely very fierce, 'You are my prisoner! I am to bring you to our Colonel, and you will probably be shot as a spy.'
The boy looked up in surprise, and turned pale as he answered: 'I am no spy! I have come out from the town to gather raspberries!'
'I know nothing about raspberries,' answered the man, still enjoying his joke, and taking small heed of the lad's evident terror; 'I must bring you before my Colonel,' and he dragged the terrified boy along the track till he reached the spot where the two officers and some of the soldiers were standing.
'Well, Schmidt; first capture!' said the Colonel, in a pleased tone, for he had not expected him to find any one in so short a time.
'Yes, your honour,' said Schmidt, now releasing the boy, who, placing his hands behind him, now addressed the Colonel in as firm a voice as he could muster.
'Please, Colonel,' he said, 'do not shoot me! I am not a spy—indeed I am not! My name is Fritz Nestor, and I live with my mother in Schustadt.'
The men standing round could not resist smiling at this odd speech, for they knew nothing of Schmidt's 'joke,' and the Colonel, bending down so as to be more of a level with the little fellow, said in a half-puzzled tone:
'You surely cannot think we should shoot you! We are not in an enemy's country, and if we were we do not shoot children. What could have put such a ridiculous idea into your head?'
'He said so,' said the boy, pointing to the corporal, whose very pigtail quivered with fear at being thus brought to his Colonel's notice.
The Colonel straightened himself and looked full at the corporal, who was standing stiffly at his right hand. 'Next time you wish to play a practical joke, corporal,' he said sternly, 'let it be with a man, and not a child! Now, my little fellow,' he said, turning to the boy, 'you may take my word for it that no one will hurt you. Can you show us the right way to Schustadt? I suppose you know it?'
'Oh, yes, sir,' said the boy brightly. 'It is barely a mile away.'
'That is good hearing,' said the Colonel, and the men were quickly recalled, and the march began once more, the boy stepping out bravely in front of the column, much preferring the part of guide to that of a spy.
Ido not mind the hurricane,And biting winter rain;I love to watch them sweep acrossThe woodland and the plain;For as they roar the trees among,I fancy I can hearA whisper like a fairy's song:'The spring is drawing near.'I do not mind the gloomy days,When clouds are dark and low,And rough winds from the meadows tearTheir tattered sheets of snow;For through those ragged holes I've seenA sight the heart to cheer,The face of some sweet flower that tells,'The spring is drawing near.'O children big, and children small,This wisdom bear in mind:Frown not on any rains that fall,Nor grumble at the wind;And when the gloomy winter's dayIs far from blithe and warm,Look well, and think, and you will findA promise in the storm.
Ido not mind the hurricane,And biting winter rain;I love to watch them sweep acrossThe woodland and the plain;For as they roar the trees among,I fancy I can hearA whisper like a fairy's song:'The spring is drawing near.'
I do not mind the gloomy days,When clouds are dark and low,And rough winds from the meadows tearTheir tattered sheets of snow;For through those ragged holes I've seenA sight the heart to cheer,The face of some sweet flower that tells,'The spring is drawing near.'
O children big, and children small,This wisdom bear in mind:Frown not on any rains that fall,Nor grumble at the wind;And when the gloomy winter's dayIs far from blithe and warm,Look well, and think, and you will findA promise in the storm.
'Cab, Madam?' said a driver; and a lady who wanted a cab got hastily in. But the driver had not proceeded very far before a loud scream from the lady startled him.
When he had recovered himself he got down, and opened the door of the cab. A strange sight met his eyes: the poor lady was huddled up in one corner, and a large and ugly snake reared its head angrily from the floor of the cab.
The driver helped the lady out, and shut the snake up in the cab, and drove as fast as he could to the police station. He remembered then how the keeper of a menagerie had that morning hired his vehicle. The keeper, while he took his drive, had placed the snake, for safe-keeping, under the seat of the cab, and, getting out at his journey's end, had forgotten the snake!
After some delay, a man was procured who killed the reptile; but it was a long time before the lady cared to enter a cab again without searching to see if there were any other travellers already in it.
16.—
Ages before the day when Marconi succeeded in establishing his wireless telegraphy, the Indians of North America carried on a system of signalling by smoke rings and fire arrows.
The settler's wife, looking out from her lonely cabin on the prairie, at the band of roving Indians, learned to note and understand the Indian smoke signals, puffing lightly into the clear blue of the prairie sky. These smoke signals are always sent in puffs or rings, so that there may be no chance of mistaking them for a camp fire. The puffs are made by covering a fire with a blanket for a minute. Then the blanket is lifted quickly, and the smoke ascends in a ring or puff. The blanketing process is repeated until a column of rings warns the Indians far and near to 'Look out,' or 'Be on the watch.' Two smokes built close together mean, 'Camp here.' Three smokes signal 'Danger.'
Signalling at night was carried on by means of fire arrows. Their meaning was like that of the smokes. The fiery trail left by the arrow in its flight through the darkness was the same signal as one smoke. The others tallied, and a flight of several fiery arrows said, 'The enemy are too many for us.'
Ross Frame.
B
ehind the clouds there are marvels as endless as those on the earth itself. Among those who have attempted to describe some of them, few have done so as vividly as the French astronomer, M. Flammarion. He has been up in sunshine and clouds, at sunrise and sunset, and looked down on the sleeping world all through the summer night.
On one of these pleasant voyages, M. Flammarion had for some time been sailing in a dense cloud, which made even the gas-bag above quite invisible, when suddenly the air was filled with most beautiful music. It seemed as though some mysterious band was playing in the very cloud itself, only a few yards away. M. Flammarion strained his eyes in every direction, but nothing except the white mist met his gaze. By-and-by, however, the cloud grew brighter, and a few moments later the haze seemed to open and let him into a world of dazzling light. He had ascended right through the rain-cloud, and broken into fine weather on the other side. On leaving the cloud the mysterious music had ceased. M. Flammarion learned afterwards that it had been produced by the orchestra of a small town over which he was sailing at the time. The rising sound had been caught and retained by the cloud, for, strange to say, while dead silence is found in the clear sky at a certain height, a cloud at the same level will often be full of sounds coming from the world below.
The object of M. Flammarion's voyage was to study the secrets of the air, and to do this properly it was necessary to go up in all sorts of weather. In a long journey from Paris across the border into Prussia, most of the distance was done in a dark and rainy night. Finding that the falling rain had made the balloon so heavy that it was sinking to the earth, he threw out ballast and rose above the cloud. But the struggling moon gave little light, and he was greatly struck by hearing, in the darkness far below, the constant noise of the falling rain. The sense of loneliness in such surroundings was very strong.
Experiments from the floating car have proved that the best echo is produced by the smooth surface of a lake. Thus when the balloon was once over a large sheet of water, the traveller called out the names of the stars reflected on its surface. Each name was echoed back with great clearness, as though some fairy of the lake were mocking him.
'Tell me, then,' cried the aeronaut at last, in fun, 'what the inhabitants of these stars are like?'
But no reply was made, for the balloon had sailed beyond the margin of the water, and his voice had fallen on the solid earth. To obtain an echo fromthatis more difficult.
On one occasion, wishing to find out if the balloon were rising or falling, M. Flammarion dropped a bottle over the side of the car. To his astonishment it stood in the air as though hanging there. It would have been just the same if he had placed a table out there too, with a chair beside it, and a knife and fork and plate upon it. He might have got out himself and sat on the chair, and they would all have appeared to be remaining still in mid-air. But as a matter of fact the bottle and the balloon were descending to earth at exactly the same speed. This would never do, and so a little ballast was thrown out. The bottle immediately seem to shoot downwards, though not quite in a vertical line, for it still moved with the impetus it had been given when thrown overboard. Ten seconds later M. Flammarion saw it reach the earth in the centre of a large field.
Each voyage brought the explorer some fresh surprise; but we must say good-bye to M. Flammarion and his balloon, for his discoveries and adventures are too many to follow. Before, however, we end these cruises in the clouds altogether, there is time for a word or two about the many machines which have been made in the hope of enabling men to soar in the skies without the aid of a balloon.Attempts to do this were made long before the Montgolfiers sent up their paper bag at Annonay, and beyond the fact that machines have been invented which can lift themselves into the sky, very little progress has been really made. Perhaps the most important of these inventions are those of Professor Langley and Sir Hiram Maxim. After many years of labour, Professor Langley of Washington succeeded, on May 6th, 1896, in launching his flying machine from the shores of the Potomac. The broad sails, or 'aeroplanes,' as they are called, cleaved the air like the wings of a bird, and kept up a steady flight for a minute and a half.
"The bottle stood in the air as though hanging there.""The bottle stood in the air as though hanging there."
Somewhat similar in outward design is the huge mechanical bird built by Sir Hiram Maxim. Broad stretches of canvas are arranged horizontally one above the other, tilting a little upwards in front. Instead of legs and feet, this strange bird has wheels running on rails. When the machine is put in motion it skims over the rails at a great speed, and the effort made by the 'aeroplanes' to climb the air shows a great power of flight. But the machine is prevented from leaving the rails by a second pair of small wheels running on the under-side, and the strain on these wheels shows the strength of the giant wings; for Sir Hiram Maxim's only object is to prove that aerial ships built in such a way would have great buoyancy. A number of them, in a modified form, have been fitted to a 'giant longstride,' and many of the London boys and girls who have been to the Exhibitions (at Earl's Court and elsewhere), where the longstride stands, know something of the principle of the flying machine.
But, after all, the greatest successes in human flight have been won in fancy. And here again, the honour belongs to France, for what more entrancing journey was ever made than that taken by the passengers in the late Jules Verne's 'Clipper of the Clouds?' Built in the form of an ocean-goer, but with large screws worked horizontally at the summits of the masts, this flying ship made a journey round the world, visiting the most distant countries, for when the broad, blue sky is the road no obstacle can lie in the way. True, when the enchanting book is ended, we know that it was only a dream, yet we must remember that many of the great French author's dreams have been realised before now.
John Lea.
"'Every day he went out and brought me in a hare or a rabbit.'""'Every day he went out and brought me in a hare or a rabbit.'"
When men first made houses, with a view to their own comfort, they little thought that they were providing a ready-made home for a host of outsiders, who took so readily to our quarters that we wonder where they can have lived before. How did the stork get on without his chimney, the merry sparrow without his gutter, the clothes-moth without cupboards, the house-spider without dirty corners and ceilings? In Holland the stork makes free with the house-top as a matter of course, often dropping a stray eel, small snake, or frog, intended for his young, down the chimney into the fireless grate of his astonished hosts below. He knows that nobody would be cruel enough to meddle with that untidy bundle of sticks which houses his family circle. The devotion of these beautiful birds to the fluffy youngsters on the roof is an example to those beneath it. In Turkey the stork is greatly respected, and lately he has been better thought of than ever. A small village on the Gulf of Ismidt caught fire, and over two hundred houses were destroyed. Many storks' nests were there, and when the fire began to rage the terrified birds fled pell-mell, but for a few moments only. After a brief pause they recovered their presence of mind, and with a rush the same broad wings which had hurried them away from death bore them as swiftly back to the burning stacks, where, in each nest, there lay two or three helpless young. The old birds settled down over the broods, covered them with their wings, and oneafter another perished without another attempt to save themselves.
A Swallow's Nest on the Crank of a Bell-wire.A Swallow's Nest on the Crank of a Bell-wire.
What the stork is abroad, the swallow is, or ought to be, in England, honoured and admired. Here he makes his summer home, and for the few months during which he stays amply earns his keep by clearing away the swarms of flies. The number of injurious insects consumed by one pair of swallows and their young during a single day cannot be less than one thousand, and the number killed during the season is beyond calculation.
Swallows are quick to avail themselves of ready-made nooks for their nests. When the eaves and similar places will not do, they boldly enter houses and churches, and take any spot that takes their fancy. A farmer at Crux Eastern was honoured by a couple who chose a door inside his home, and, when the nest was accidentally shaken down, pitched upon another door. The farmer's wife, fearing that this nest would be destroyed also, drove a large nail into the woodwork beneath as a support. But Dame Swallow could not put up with this interference, and, leaving the second nest, she chose the crank of a bell-wire in the kitchen. Without more ado she built, laid eggs, and hatched them, though the farmer gave a supper to his men while she was still house-keeping, and while the sheep-shearers enjoyed their noisy feast, the little pair flew in and out, feeding their young as quietly as if they were utterly alone.
Much might be said of the fondness shown by some unbidden guests for our food, of the trickery of the mouse, or of the cricket's habit of tumbling into the milk, while taking unlawful sips. But a plea can be found even for the most despised of creatures. Cheese is a dainty to the pilfering mouse, but the eggs of the cockroach are a still daintier morsel. The cricket is a scavenger, and besides cheering us by his sprightly song, rids the floor of tiny atoms of insanitary dust, and the house-spider preys on the clothes-moth. One lesson at least is taught by many a household insect, that of strict cleanliness.
Besides our regular housemates, many strange creatures will live with us in time of trouble, forgetful of their fear. The following is a true and delightful instance of this. On one of the Highland hills an old woman lived quite alone. After a severe snow-storm, some shepherds, fearing for her safety, went to the rescue and found her hut snowed up. They were unable to trace it till a curl of smoke was seen rising out of a drift. The warmth had melted a small hollow just above the hole in her roof which served as a chimney. Down this they called, 'Jenny, are you living?' For answer a fox darted out of the hole and ran away. Again they called. 'Yes,' answered the old woman. 'Heaven has been very good to me. I have been fed by the beasts of the wood.' 'What do you mean?' asked the men. She said, 'A wild fox came down the chimney to take shelter. I spoke kindly to it, and it came and sat by the fire, and every day he went out and brought me in a hare or a rabbit.'
This story makes one feel how easily the fear and dread of us, which so many creatures are forced to feel, might be changed into trust and love, so that we might fulfil the text, 'The beast of the field shall be at peace with thee.'
Edith Carrington.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(Continued from page 387.)
The Boxers had evidently heard that Charlie and the two Chinamen had ventured to leave the shelter of the mission enclosure, and it was plain that they had hoped to surprise them. And had they been a minute earlier, they would undoubtedly have succeeded in doing so. In fact, the foremost man was so close upon them that he seized the ladder just as it was being raised, and, tugging hard, pulled it out of Barton's hands. This capture, trivial though it was, filled the Boxers with enthusiasm. With fierce shouts they rushed at the gates and attacked them with hatchets. But, as the gates were of iron, and had been made and fixed with the intention of resisting such assaults, their efforts were in vain. Soon they recognised that they were wasting their strength, and, at a signal from their leader, they turned away and ran to seek shelter. Soon there was not a living Boxer visible to the missionaries and their friends.
They had had enough fighting for one day, and did not again expose themselves. The besieged party took the opportunity to strengthen their defences and make other preparations for a long siege.
'I hope,' Barton said, in answer to a question from Charlie, 'that we shall be relieved within a week from to-day, as the missionaries who had to seek shelter here sent trustworthy messengers to Peking and Wei-hai-wei with letters to the British officials, telling them of their sufferings and whither they were bound; and the day before you arrived I sent off two messengers with notes for the captain of any British warship they could find, stating that we were besieged.'
About ten o'clock on the following morning the Boxers renewed their attack, but in a manner which the defenders had not expected. Instead of rushing into the open, as they had done before, they fired from the houses facing the mission building.
'Get the women and children into the basement at once,' Barton shouted to one of his colleagues, for some of the Boxers were firing from the roofs of the houses into the mission enclosure.
'The Boxers take good care to keep under cover,' Charlie remarked. 'Evidently we have taught them to respect us.'
'They won't remain concealed for many hours,' said Ping Wang. 'When they get excited they will make another attack on the gate.'
His words came true. For nearly one hour the Boxers continued to fire upon the missionaries' house, doing severe damage to it. Their success elated them, and the fact that the besieged did not reply to the attack probably made them believe that they had used up all their ammunition. At any rate, they suddenly rushed out of the houses and made for the mission gate, waving flags and shouting wildly. Fred and Barton, at some newly-made loop-holes, and Charlie, Mr. Wilkins, and Ping Wang at their former positions, fired rapidly at theadvancing mob, which, with loud shouts and wild gestures, rushed at the gate to make another attempt to destroy it. But the gate resisted all their efforts.
'Oh, for a Maxim!' Charlie sighed. 'That would disperse them.'
'So would boiling water,' Mr. Wilkins remarked, 'but we can't spare it. I wonder——'
What Mr. Wilkins intended to say was never known, for at that moment Number One, who was stationed, revolver in hand, some yards away, hailed them excitedly: 'Lun, lun!' he shouted; 'Boxer man climbee up ladder plenty quick.'
Charlie and Mr. Wilkins looked out from among the sandbags, and saw that the Boxers had placed two ladders a foot or two to the left of where Number One was posted. As the defenders looked out, some who had remained under cover fired at them. Charlie drew back instantly, for a bullet passed within an inch of his head, and, hurrying down from his platform, ran to the spot where the Boxers hoped to scale the wall. One of them was already on it. He dropped from the wall into the mission enclosure, and rushed with wild shouts at Number One, who fired but failed to hit him. But Charlie was close at hand, and, when the Boxer was about ten yards from Number One he pressed the trigger of his rifle, and the daring fanatic fell. But four more Boxers had dropped into the enclosure, and, not daunted by the fate of their comrade, were rushing at Charlie and Number One. The latter fired his revolver, and, to his great surprise, shot the foremost Boxer in the left leg. Almost at the same moment Charlie put another out of the fight, but, before he could reload, the third Boxer was close upon him. Dropping the cartridge, Charlie grasped his rifle in both hands near the muzzle, and, swinging it over his shoulder, brought the butt down on his assailant's head. The fourth man, seeing the fate of his comrades, tried to escape, but his efforts were fruitless.
'Tell him to surrender,' Charlie said to Number One.
Number One did so, and the Boxer at once went down on his knees, and, bending forward, placed his forehead and the palms of his hands on the ground.
'Get some rope and bind him securely,' Charlie instructed Number One, who obeyed at once.
Several other Boxers had been sitting on top of the wall, watching the fight, and, when they saw that their comrades were getting the worst of it, instead of going to their help, they retired quickly to join the mob, which, however, had once more taken to flight. The gallant little band of defenders were, naturally, very pleased at their victory, which, alas! they soon discovered was very dearly bought. To their great grief, the veteran missionary, Mr. Wilkins, had been shot through the throat and was dead. Evidently the fatal wound had been received when he looked out to see if the Boxers really were climbing the wall. He was buried at sunset in a corner of the mission enclosure, and his death cast a gloom over the defenders.
Two weeks passed away, and there was still no news of the long-expected relief. Food was so scarce that it was indeed wonderful how the besieged managed to exist. Four of them had died, and were now lying in the little cemetery in the corner of the enclosure. Others were seriously ill, and it was feared that, unless relief came speedily, they, too, would soon succumb.
The Boxers had altered their plans on finding that they could not carry the mission buildings by assault, and now relied upon starving out the defenders. By day or by night scarcely a single Boxer was to be seen, although hundreds were within a stone's-throw. Every building that could be seen from the mission had a Boxer flag planted on it, and every house facing it had been fortified. From these houses the Boxers, day and night, fired on the mission, the residential part of which, except the basement, was in a ruined condition. To cross from the platforms to the mission house was a work of danger, for some trained Chinese soldiers, who had joined the Boxers, were by no means bad shots, and, as they could look down into the enclosure, they fired every time that one of the defenders was seen. They used a large amount of ammunition, but without drawing the fire of the missionaries and their friends.
Another week passed—the most disastrous that the besieged had gone through. Two more of them had died from fatigue, fever, and want of proper food. The mule which had drawn the missionaries' trap for some years, had been killed and skinned, and in the course of two or three days the last of it would be eaten. When that was gone there would not be an atom of food left. If it had not been for the women and children, the men would have made a sortie and died facing overwhelming odds.
'We must remain where we are for their sake,' Barton declared, and the rest agreed with him. Then they discussed how to make the remainder of the mule-flesh last a day or two longer than they hoped; but they were already on such short rations that it was almost impossible to reduce them.
'What's that?' Charlie exclaimed, suddenly. 'Didn't you hear anything?'
'Only those two shots which the Boxers fired,' Fred replied.
'No, not that. I thought I heard a cheer.'
'Imagination, I'm afraid,' Barton said, sorrowfully, but he had scarcely uttered the words when the sound of firing in the distance was heard distinctly.
'Relief!' Charlie declared, excitedly. 'I'm certain it was an English cheer which I heard.'
'The firing is outside the town,' Ping Wang remarked, 'and the Boxers have heard it. Look, they're leaving their shelter.'
The sound of the firing had evidently caused the greatest excitement among the Boxers. They streamed out of the houses and ran off in the direction of the gates through which the advancing force, whether friend or foe, would have to enter the town.
The sound of firing in the distance now became louder, and it was plain that a fierce fight was raging somewhere near the town gates. Soon they knew that the force attacking the town was winning, for several terror-stricken Chinamen rushed past the mission, seeking some place in which to hide.
(Continued on page 402.)
"Charlie grasped his rifle in both hands.""Charlie grasped his rifle in both hands."
"'This is a delightful surprise.'""'This is a delightful surprise.'"
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(Continued from page 399.)
Three-quarters of an hour after the first sound of firing was heard by Charlie and his friends, a loud, unmistakably British cheer rang through the air.
'They've entered the town,' Fred exclaimed, and cheered wildly. Every Englishman, and Ping Wang also, joined in the cheer. Then they fell into silence, listening to the distant sounds. The Boxers were yelling furiously, hoping to terrify the Englishmen who had entered the town.
'They're marching straight through the town,' one of the missionaries declared anxiously. 'Perhaps they don't know that we are here.'
'They are certain to be aware of that,' Barton answered. 'No doubt they are going to secure the other gate.'
'My cally message to Number One soldier man,' Number One suggested. 'Say Clistian missionalies big piecee hungy.'
'But the Boxers might kill you,' Barton hinted.
'Boxer man nebber killee me. My plenty clebber. Boxer man nebber catchee me.'
'All right then; you may go.'
Number One grinned with delight, and, when the bamboo ladder had been lowered over the wall, went off at a run.
Charlie, Fred, and their friends found the time pass very slowly. They could hear that the English were fighting their way steadily through the town, and every minute their anxiety to see their gallant countrymen increased. Presently a loud British cheer told them that the other gate had been captured. The firing now became less frequent, and in about ten minutes it ceased entirely.
The excitement in the mission enclosure was now intense. The surviving women and children came out of the basement where they had been prisoners for more than three weeks, and climbed up on the platforms to get the first view of their deliverers. The native Christians, who had borne the hardships of the siege uncomplainingly, chatted and laughed gaily. The sick and wounded lay in the little hospital with their eyes fixed on the door.
'They're coming!' Charlie shouted a few minutes later, and the good news thrilled both Englishmen and Chinamen.
The tramp of drilled men came nearer and nearer, and soon from out of the street, almost facing the mission buildings, marched a British naval officer. He gave a swift glance along the wall, and seeing the men and women peering through the sandbags, he saluted them with his sword. They answered him with a cheer, and instantly some fifty smiling, sun-burnt tars burst into a loud 'Hip, hip, hoorah!'
With the smartness characteristic of our navy the men were formed up in a line with their backs to the mission wall. The officer in command gave one look at them, and then almost ran up the ladder which Barton had lowered.
'It is!' Charlie exclaimed, delightedly, as the officer reached the top of the ladder. 'It's our old friend Williams.'
'So it is,' Fred declared, as he recognised the officer of the revenue cutter, who had captured the coper in which his brother and Ping Wang were unwilling passengers.
Williams heard his name mentioned as he vaulted over the wall on to the platform, and the next moment he recognised his friends.
'Well, this is a delightful surprise!' he exclaimed, as he grasped Charlie's hand.
'It's still more delightful for us,' Fred declared.
'You've had a very rough time, I fear,' said Williams, when he had shaken hands with his three friends. 'You look almost like skeletons, every man of you. However, you shall soon have a good feed.'
'Shall we open the gate?' Barton asked, when he and his colleagues had been introduced to Williams.
'Certainly,' Williams replied; but when he saw how securely the gate had been barricaded, he knew that the task would be more than the half-starved defenders of the mission could accomplish.
'I'll call some of my men to do it,' he said, and in a few moments twelve jovial, sun-burnt, travel-stained sailors had climbed the ladder and entered the enclosure. Instantly the men, women, and children surrounded them, grasping their hands, and showering blessings on them.
'Come along, men,' Williams shouted out. 'Down with that barricade, and open the gates.'
The sailors started their work at once. In a few minutes the barricade, which had taken the missionaries some days to build, was torn down, and the gates thrown open. Number One was the first person to enter the enclosure. He carried a big bowl of cooked rice, which was probably loot, and, hurrying to the ladies and children, placed the tempting dish before them.
'Welly good,' he declared, emphatically; 'makee plenty stlong.'
When every one had had as much as was safe after their long fast, Williams drew Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang aside. 'I suppose you haven't succeeded in getting that treasure?' he said.
'No, but we got very close to it,' Charlie replied, and then told him of their adventures in Kwang-ngan.
'You've been unfortunate,' Williams admitted. 'However, I'll see what I can do. We expect some Japanese troops here to-morrow, and as soon as they arrive we are all going to march on Kwang-ngan. Tell me exactly where the idol is.'
'Let us go to Kwang-ngan with you,' Charlie suggested.
'But, my dear fellows,' Williams replied, 'you're not in a fit state for any more fighting.'
'It's only sleep we want,' Charlie declared. 'We shall be as fit as any one after we have had a good long rest.'
'If that's the case, I shall be glad of your company; but you must turn in at once.'
'Before we do that we want to know how it is that you are here. When we last saw you, you had no idea of going to China.'
'Well, I'll soon explain that. My capture of that coper on which I found you and Ping Wang won the approval of the authorities, and, fortunately for me, I was able to effect another capture, about three weeks later. Soon afterwards I received orders to go up to London, and in less than a week I was on my way to China to join my present ship.'
Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang heartily congratulated their friend, but he cut them short by telling them that if they wanted to accompany him to Kwang-ngan they would have to turn in at once, and get as much sleep as possible.
'If that's the case, good-night,' Charlie replied, and all the three hurried away to their beds in the basement, and slept soundly.
When they awoke they found that the Japanese troops had arrived, and that the British sailors were to start within half an hour for Kwang-ngan. After a rapid but hearty breakfast they marched out, with the rifles at the shoulder, to report themselves to Williams, whom they found outside the enclosure inspecting the men. Some of the newly arrived Japanese soldiers had already been posted around the mission wall, and the Japanese flag flew, side by side with the Union Jack, over the gateway.
'Well,' Williams exclaimed, cheerfully, as he shook hands with Charlie, 'do you still wish to come with us?'
'Certainly,' Charlie replied, speaking for all three of them.
'Then you had better say "good-bye" to your missionary friends, for they must all start for Tien-tsin this morning. They will be safer there.'
Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang hurried back to the mission buildings, but Barton was the only one of their late comrades in danger who was not sound asleep. They bade farewell to him, and extracted a promise from him that when next he came to England he would visit them at Lincoln.
While they had been talking, Williams had marched his men off towards the town gate which opened into the road leading to Kwang-ngan. Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang ran after them and overtook them just as they were quitting the town. They fell in at the rear of the company. Nine of the ten miles which lay between Su-ching and Kwang-ngan were covered in about two hours and a half, and they proceeded more cautiously, but for some time met with no opposition, although, when they drew near Kwang-ngan they were surprised to find that it was a very formidable-looking place, bristling with big guns.
'They are not guns,' Ping Wang declared, smiling. 'They are simply circles which the Boxers have painted on the walls to represent guns, in the hope of frightening us.'
'But I was told that they had two guns,' said Williams.
'That is correct. One is mounted on either side of the gate.'
Ping Wang had barely finished speaking when both guns boomed, and their range was excellent, the shells bursting among the sailors. One man was killed and six were wounded. Charlie was thrown to the ground, but, much to his surprise, he found on getting up that he was not hurt.
The sailors now advanced quickly, and the Chinese gunners being apparently unable to alter their range, the shells passed harmlessly over their heads.
The attacking party soon got to within three hundred yards from the town, and the Boxers lining the wall, having so far received no hurt, became reckless. A few of them fired their rifles, but three hundred yards is a long range for most Chinamen, and not one of them succeeded in doing any damage. Nevertheless, Williams considered that the time had arrived to give the Boxers a warning. He gave the order to his men to lie down and fire a volley. It was a splendid one, and the terror which it caused among the Boxers was almost comical. The uninjured men hid themselves instantly, and not a single threat, or shout of defiance was heard from them as the sailors sprang to their feet and ran a hundred yards nearer to the wall.
They lay there unmolested for three or four minutes until the 'advance' was again sounded. As they rushed forward, the Boxers opened fire upon them with rifles and bows and arrows, and three men fell. But their comrades, breaking into a loud cheer, continued their advance, and arrived at the wall with but few casualties on the way. They had brought from Su-ching twelve long bamboo ladders, and these were speedily placed against the wall at a few yards distance from each other. The Japanese also had provided themselves with ladders.
At the signal from their officers, the men climbed nimbly up the ladders, and all along the south wall the fight became fierce. Many of the attacking party were shot before they reached the topmost rung, but their fall simply added to the determination of their comrades, and in a few minutes nearly a score of them had scaled the wall, and were engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand fight with the Boxers.
Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang were not among the first dozen to enter the town, as the sailors who had fixed the ladder by which they wished to ascend declared that it was their right to be the first to mount it.
When the Chinamen found that they were unable to drive out the men who had entered the town, and that others were scrambling over the wall to their assistance, they turned and fled, closely pursued by the sailors. Within twenty minutes the whole English force held the village. Before long, Fred, Charlie, and Ping Wang found themselves close to the wall of Chin Choo's residence.
(Concluded on page 410.)
(Concluded from page 390.)
There is not much to be said about our last batch of toys. The cat and her kittens is a wonderful toy for the money; and the round box with a crown on top is a good place to keep the pennies for the next Christmas. The doll in a box, the two other dolls, the fans, and the frog, are all actually made in Japan, and shipped to England. Fancy the little Japanese boys and girls turning their hands—for these toys are all made by hand—to work just to give pleasure to little boys and girls far off in other countries! The reason why these Japanese toys can be made so cheaply and sent so far, and yet sold at a profit, is that the Japanese, old and young alike, are able to live much more frugally and cheaply than Europeans. Japanese shipping companies, too, are anxious to get trade, and carry the toys very cheaply: during the war they actually guaranteed owners against loss or capture by the enemy.