CHAPTER XIII
In a Chinese Prison
If Chang, the man who had so unexpectedly and suddenly led an attack upon the little party journeying via Hatsu to interview Twang Chun, the governor of the province, imagined that he had left David in a condition of terror at the thought of the execution he had threatened for the evening of the morrow, he was very much mistaken, and showed therefore that he knew his prisoner very little indeed; for David was not the one to be long down-hearted. It was not in his nature to give in without a serious struggle. No sooner had the door of his prison been banged and barred, than his spirits rose wonderfully, while he set about seeking for a remedy to enable him to beat his enemies. And the first thing that caused him joy was a discovery he made within a couple of minutes.
'The fools!' he whispered to himself, chuckling. 'The fools! They took me because I was idiot enough to fall asleep, but they forgot to search my pockets. Why, here is my magazine shooter, and here the letters I was carrying. George! Mr. Chang, I shall have something to say when the time for execution comes along; but I ain't going to wait for it if I can help; let's have a look at this cage they've put me in.'
It was a long, narrow cell, with walls formed of hewn blocks of hard stone, and lit by a range of narrow windows placed close to the ceiling. The openings themselves were innocent of glass, or of the Chinese equivalent, namely, oiled paper. Otherwise, the floor was of stone, the ceiling of a dusky white, while, save for himself and the basket in which he had been carried to the place, there was not another thing present. All was in darkness, except a wide stretch of floor on which the moonbeams played, as they crept up one of the walls till the bright patch of light ended at an abrupt edge, a faithful
silhouette
of the range of windows above placed on the outside wall of the prison.
'Door as safe as houses; heard the bolts shot home,' David told himself. 'Then I've got to reach those windows. Should say they're a good twelve feet from the floor; perhaps the height's even greater. Couldn't reach 'em I fancy, even with a big leap. However, I'll try; nothing like trying.'
There was nothing like keeping up his pluck either, which David did with a vengeance. He was even smiling as he stared up at the range of windows, with their edges so unnaturally abrupt as the moonbeams streamed past them, while one hand went every now and again to the depths of the secret pocket in which his magazine pistol was lying. Then he walked over to the wall and felt the surface with his fingers.
'One could get a grip with these cotton-padded soles, I should say. I'll try a running jump and see where it will land me.'
He went back to the opposite wall, and squeezed hard against it; then he sprang forward, and leaping at the far wall endeavoured to run up it. He succeeded in gaining a point within two feet of the windows, or perhaps it was less. Then he tried again and again till he was exhausted.
'No good; can't do it,' he told himself. 'I shall have to think of something else.'
He sat down on the basket and cudgelled his brains, but the more he thought and worried, the longer he stared at the range of windows, the more impossible the task seemed. Then he swung round swiftly. There was a clatter outside the door, the bolts were being pushed back from their sockets. A moment or two later the hinges creaked, while the door was thrown open. A coolie entered at once, while a second held a lamp behind him. There were half a dozen more just outside in a dimly lit passage, while in their midst stood none other than the Tartar under-officer. David rubbed his eyes, and wondered where he had seen the fellow before. Then hearing him speak, he remembered.
'Put the food and water down,' he commanded, 'and leave. It is time that we were all in our beds. Do not go near the foreign devil. There is never any saying when he and his may do injury to one of our people.'
He eyed his prisoner with none too friendly a glance, and hurried the coolie from the room. David heard the bolts shot to again, and the faint slither of departing feet. Then he rose to his feet with flushed face and a new hope in his heart. Not a second thought did he give to the food and water, for who could say that it was not poisoned? If Ebenezer Clayhill could hire a ruffian to come all that way to molest him anything might be expected. No, the food and drink did not attract him. Our hero was roused by the help which the lamp had brought him; for it had shone on the basket on which he was seated, and in a flash David realised that the affair was not merely a flimsy collection of wicker, but a well-made basket of considerable length, strengthened with pieces of bamboo, which, although light, kept the whole in shape, and gave it considerable power to resist weights placed within it. He picked it up with an effort, and running his fingers along it, came upon the holes left for the bamboo runners with which it was hoisted on the bearers' shoulders. Then, with the utmost care, and in deadly silence, he propped it up on end against the wall, at the summit of which ran the range of windows. Would it reach high enough? David stepped back, and cast an anxious eye upward.
'Might,' he said, with a doubtful shake of his head. 'Might not; anyway, I'm going to reach those windows.'
He gathered his somewhat ample allowance of Chinese garment about his knees so as to free his legs, and began to clamber upward; and presently he had reached the summit. To stand there and balance himself on the end was no easy matter, and as if to persuade him of that fact the basket suddenly canted, bringing itself and our hero with a crash to the ground. Instantly his hand went to his pistol, while he crouched over the fallen basket, endeavouring to regain his breath, for the jar of the fall had driven it out of his body. But there was not a sound from the passage; not a sound from outside his prison. Not a foot stirred; no alarm was given.
'Shows I'm in an out-of-the-way place, for that basket made no end of a clatter. When once beat, try again. Don't give up in a hurry.'
He propped up the basket again, but this time with greater care, and swarmed up it, finding little difficulty in that part of the task, for it was almost as easy as climbing a ladder, there being numerous gaps affording a foothold in the wicker. Then he steadily raised himself to his full height, and stretched his arms above his head. The window was within two feet of his fingers.
'And has to be reached. Can't get much of a spring here,' he thought, 'but it's worth trying. I'll chance the fall, for if I miss, there's a good chance of coming down standing.'
With a sharp kick he leaped at the window, and actually contrived to grip the edge with the fingers of one hand. But they slid off instantly, and within a second he was back on the floor of his prison, not so shaken or jarred on this occasion, but hot and desperate, exasperated at his want of good fortune. But as we have had occasion to remark before, David was nothing if not determined. It was that very characteristic in the lad which troubled his stepmother, and which had, no doubt, carried him safely and successfully through many an undertaking. He propped the basket into place again, ascending with all speed and caution, and drawing in a long breath, made a huge spring at the window. On this occasion the fingers of both hands obtained a grip of the edge, and retained it. He hung in mid-air, flattened against the wall of his prison, listening to the basket as it slid sideways, and finally came with a crash to the floor. Then he pulled himself up, flung one arm round a pillar dividing the window, and soon had himself hoisted higher. After that it was easy enough to squeeze his body through the narrow opening, and to lie there securely while he regained his breath.
'And what now?' he asked himself, when he was again ready for further exertion. 'Outside here there's nothing that's very promising. We came up stairs. That is to say, I recollect that my bearers carried me up a flight before entering the prison. That makes the drop below me pretty big, bigger than I'm anxious to tackle. But there's nothing else.'
It did appear as if there were no other alternative, for as he cast his eyes downwards David could detect nothing that offered a foothold below him. The smooth stone wall descended sheer to the street, which ran along under the bright moonbeams some thirty or more feet under the window. It was not an impossible drop. On the other hand, it was none too easy, and might very well result in a sprained ankle, or something equally hampering and disagreeable. Then David did the wisest thing under the circumstances. Bearing in mind the old motto, perhaps, 'look before you leap,' he cast his eyes in all directions, first in front and then behind him, without obtaining any encouragement, and then up over his head. Ah! He could have shouted: the roof was within a few inches of his hand, a roof composed of large, flat tiles, with a deep channel at each side, and sloping so gradually that to walk upon it should be easy. He reached up a hand, gripped the edge of the roof, and hoisted himself cautiously upon it. Then he lay down flat, and rolled himself slowly upward. For there was something to alarm him. A man was standing out in the moon-lit road, and was gesticulating violently.
'Seen me I'm afraid,' thought David. 'Wants to make sure before he kicks up a ruction; but they don't have me without a little trouble. Out here on this roof I ought to be able to put up a fight that'll make them careful. Bother that chap! He must have been hiding in the deep shadow over yonder, and have watched me as I clambered out of the window.'
'Misser Davie, Misser Davie.'
The words came to him as if in a nightmare. David could not believe that he had actually heard them. He put his fingers to his ears and rubbed them vigorously. But he had no sooner removed them than the words came again, 'Misser Davie, Misser Davie.'
'Awfully queer,' he thought, mopping his forehead with the tail end of a voluminous sleeve, 'I could have sworn that that – '
'Misser Davie, am dat youself, Misser Davie?'
It was undoubtedly some one calling him, and that some one was the man down below in the street. The figure gesticulated even more violently, while the voice was raised to a higher pitch.
'Am dat youself, Misser Davie? Dis Jong, John Jong, de China boy, what's you sarvint.'
It set David's heart beating like a sledge hammer. He slid at once to the very edge of the roof and stared over.
'Jong,' he called. 'That you? What's all this business about?'
'Not know't all, Misser. Me asleep, den hear a noise, and hide under de
kang
. Men come into de place and look for me. Den hear dem going away carryin' baskets.'
'Carrying me, Jong. I was a prisoner till a moment ago. I've just crept out of the cell in which they placed me.'
'Where Misser Dick, den?' asked Jong, promptly.
'Dick? Isn't he with you?'
David asked the question anxiously, for the safety of his friend had given him cause for great anxiety, even in spite of his own sad condition. He had not seen that second basket borne along behind him, and had no idea that his chum Dick was also a prisoner. 'Where is he?' he demanded eagerly.
'Not know; but Jong follow de fellers, and see dem carry you both in dere in de baskets. Den him wait here to see what happening. Not know what to do, Misser Davie. If me go back to de palace, den Tsu-Hi take me.'
David whistled in a low key. This was indeed a facer, though, to tell the truth, the presence of Jong in the street below was a wonderful fillip to both courage and spirits. But Dick; what was he to do about his friend?
'Can't leave him all alone, that's certain,' he told himself without the least hesitation. 'Supposing I go on a tour of inspection, for it seems to me that there is no one watching or listening. Look here, Jong,' he called out gently, 'stay where you are and watch. I'm going to find Mr. Dick, if it's possible.'
Promptly he crept away over the roof, his feet making not so much as a sound as he went, for his native shoes were as soft as bedroom slippers. Then he came to a sudden halt. David's old characteristic asserted itself. His desire to be practical, to have a plan always where such was possible, came to the fore, and he lay flat again cogitating, trying to decide how to proceed.
'No use ranging round and round aimlessly,' he told himself. 'Where's Dick most likely to be kept a prisoner? That's the question. Where's he been put? If only I can find the cell I'll manage somehow to get at him.'
A couple of minutes later he was sidling slowly again to the very edge of the roof, for higher up there was no opening. The slight slope of the big tiles led to a wall some five feet in height, rising abruptly at the highest edge of the roof, and capped itself by a second roof of huge, artistic tiles, which overhung their support far more than was the case down below. This second part went steeply upward to the summit, where the ridge was capped with a number of ludicrous and marvellously wrought dragons. It was a dead end as it were, not only to the building in that part, but also to David's hopes in that direction. Obviously there was nothing to be done there, and equally obviously the wall below him, through which he had contrived to squeeze by way of the window offered something far more likely. For was it not in the bounds of possibility that the range of windows was continued, and, if so, why should Dick not be held a prisoner in a cell into which one of the openings gave light and air?
'Hist! Jong! are you still there?'
The figure of the Chinaman steeped out into the white road, silhouetted blackly against it, and fore-shortened from the aspect from which our hero observed him.
'Misser Davie, here John Jong.'
'I may want a rope; got one?'
'Find him easy; I go now to look. Be back and hide along here till you want me.'
The dark figure slid again into the dense shadow in the far edge of the road, and though David stared and stared into it, not a movement could he discern, not a sound did he catch. Not a sound? Then what was that? Surely voices? Yes, without shadow of doubt. He kneeled up to listen, and then, as if he had forgotten all thought of the windows, one of which, if they did indeed exist, might give access to Dick, he went crawling off up the slope to the erection above it. And arrived there he hastened along the wall till he came to the edge, when he slipped round the corner. About ten feet away there was a large gap in this other side of the building, and a soft light was streaming from it. Voices were also issuing into the night air. David crawled forward without a moment's hesitation, halted when close to the gap, which was, as a matter of fact, another large window, and craned his neck round the edge. Down below him, twenty feet perhaps, there were a number of Chinese, and amongst them the rascally Tartar under-officer who had admitted them to the city. The men were stretched lazily on a long
kang
, which did service as bed for all of them, and were discussing matters idly. David listened for a while, then, creeping past the opening, hastened to a second of equal size, and from which also a ray of light issued. A glance into the place caused him suddenly to duck his head and retreat a little.
'Chang, Chang, of all people, eating his supper, and writing as he does so. If only I dared.'
If only he had none others to think of, save himself, David could have shot the man where he sat, though such an act would have gone hard against his conscience and his ideas of what was proper and fair play. But there was Dick to be considered, and Dick was somewhere in the building.
'Mustn't wait,' he told himself, 'no good to be obtained by staring down at that fellow. Chang was the name he gave himself. I shall remember, and one of these days I shall hope to meet him under different circumstances. Now for those other windows.'
He slipped back to his old position, crawled to the edge of the roof on to which he had at first climbed, and hung his head over it. Yes, there was a long row of windows, all in darkness, any of which might give access to the cell in which his comrade was a prisoner.
'Can't remember which I came from myself,' he groaned. 'But I'll try the lot of them. First thing is to get down, then I'll make my way from one to the other.'
To an active lad the task was nothing out of the ordinary, and in a little while David was seated on the edge of one at the far corner of the building. He peered at once into the interior, and, with the aid of the moon's rays, was able to make out the opposite wall and the actual dimensions of the place. It appeared to be empty, but the dark shadow directly beneath him might contain someone. He called Dick's name gently, repeating it till he was sure that he could not be there.
'Even if he were asleep he'd hear that,' he told himself. 'But even Dick, the happy-go-lucky Dick, wouldn't be asleep now. This business would be far too upsetting for any man. I'll get along to the next. Ah! not there. That's the crib from which I so lately scrambled.'
There was no doubt on the last question, for the moonbeams played on the platter of food and the jar of water which had been brought to him, and he realised that this was indeed the cell he had so lately vacated, for the two objects were in precisely the same position in which he had seen them placed. More than that, the edge of the huge basket which had contained his own perspiring and wriggling body was peeping out of the shadow. At once he went crawling on again, peeping into four other cells, only to find each one tenantless. Then a gentle hail from below attracted his attention.
'Masser Davie, I'se got a rope; what den?'
Jong's strange figure stood outlined on the white road again, his face as clearly seen as in broad daylight, so powerfully did the moon play upon it.
'I found de rope along de road here, and borrowed him for a little. You found de oder one? You found Masser Dick?'
There was a note of anxiety in the faithful celestial's voice, and a responding note in that of David's. For his lack of success was making him feel desperate. Supposing he could not find his chum? Could he leave the place and desert him entirely? Never.
'I'm game to do something desperate,' he breathed. 'If I don't find him in this place I'll slip along to the palace where we were given quarters, and tackle Tsu-Hi. The rascal must have been an accomplice in this attack, and with him under my pistol I could do a great deal, a very great deal I imagine.'
He sat still for a little while, running the plan over in his head. And desperate as it undoubtedly was, he decided then and there that if he failed in his quest for Dick he would carry the idea out. It should be neck or nothing. It should be Tsu-Hi's life or Dick's. Then another inspiration floated across his mind.
'Chang, why not?' he asked himself. 'If he has the power to manage a thing like this, he will have further power. With a pistol to his head he would undo what he has already managed to bring about. But it wouldn't be quite as good as the deputy-governor. What's that, Jong?'
'You sit still dere while I throw up de rope. Now, catch him.'
A coil left the Chinaman's hand, and thrown with dexterity whizzed just in front of David. He caught it with ease, and at once slipped it about his shoulders.
'Remain there,' he said. 'I'm going on looking for Mr. Dick.'
'Den you take heap of care. Dere's a light a little farder along de wall.'
Jong's arms slid out and his finger pointed.
Craning his neck and stretching out from the wall as far as possible David thought he could detect a beam of light coming from a window a little farther along. But he was not sure, for the moon was so strong and clear that it stifled every other ray of light, just as the sun's rays quench a fire. However, Jong could see, and guided by him he scrambled to the roof again, crawled along it, and then leaned over.
'A light sure enough. Better investigate – here goes.'
He was over the edge in a twinkling, and since greater caution was needful here, he dropped the toes of his padded shoes very gently on the framing of the window. Then getting a grip of the upper edge he stooped and peeped into the interior. A paper lantern hung from the ceiling and showed him a bare room, with the same stone walls. But in the far corner there was a narrow
kang
on which a man was seated. He raised his head as David looked in, appearing to have heard a sound. And the brief glimpse our hero obtained told him that this was the Tartar under-officer, the officious individual with whom he had already come in contact.
'Evidently got tired of the others and come to bed. Hallo! here comes another of them.'
Right opposite him was the doorway, the door being half open, and through this stepped the same man who had brought the jar of water and the platter of food. A bunch of keys jangled at his girdle, while the man yawned widely.
'Prisoners safe,' he said. 'I shall now go to my rest.'
'One moment. You have fed them? Our friend who came to the city to warn us gave strict orders to that effect.'
The gaoler nodded sleepily. 'They are fed,' he answered surlily. 'The one nearly an hour ago, the second who is placed next to you this very minute. Now I go to take food and drink to the principal apartment. The stranger of whom you speak, and who indeed seems to be of the greatest importance, tells me that his Excellency comes to talk with him.'
'S-s-she! not a word more. Forget that, friend,' said the Tartar, eagerly, his voice hardly raised above a whisper. 'Remember that his highness Tsu-Hi is ignorant as yet of these matters. He goes the rounds on the walls. When he returns to the palace and discovers that his guests are gone he will raise an uproar. He will make good his face for the enquiries which must certainly follow. Mention not the name of the deputy-governor in this affair if you wish to live longer. There, go; I too am sleepy. But wait. You said his Excellency – er – this guest comes now to speak with our friend?'
'He comes now; he is expected any moment.'
'Then I will have a word with him. He must know that I too have had a share in this business. Perhaps it will fall out that I shall regain the post which I lost but lately. Ah! foreign devils were the cause of my undoing. Willingly will I slay all with whom I come in contact.'
'The ruffian! That's the sort of fellow I've got to deal with, is it?' muttered David, who had listened eagerly, and, thanks to his own quickness and keenness to learn the language, had managed to pick up the gist of the conversation. 'So Chang and the deputy-governor are hand in glove in this affair, and the deputy seeks to throw dust in the eyes of the authorities, in other words to make his face good, as is the saying in this queer country. Why! If this isn't my opportunity! Supposing I find Dick and hoist him out, we are still in a walled city. We've still to get clear away, and very little chance of doing that as matters are. If this isn't the very thing I've been wanting.'
He shrank back as the gaoler left the room, lurching sleepily, and watched the Tartar as he too stepped towards the door. A moment later the man was gone, leaving the room empty.
'My turn now. Here goes