The Flying Boat Part 14

Burroughs examined the bars of the window. They were so deeply imbedded in the masonry that to loosen them within a reasonable time seemed a hopeless undertaking. The chances of succeeding in a rush through the doorway, when the door was opened, seemed slight. Burroughs had his revolver; Errington was unarmed; and though Chin Tai, who was waiting without to act as interpreter between Chung Pi and his German visitor, had his knife, it was not very likely that Burroughs and he could overpower the four sentinels on guard at the door. Even if they were taken by surprise, the sound of the scuffle would quickly bring up others from the gates and courtyards between the room and the outer wall. The more they thought of the problem, the more thoroughly were they convinced that violent measures were doomed to failure; they must have recourse to stratagem. But puzzle as they might, neither had the glimmering of a notion what the first move in the game must be.

They were so deeply immersed in talk that they did not notice the flight of time, and both were surprised when the door was opened, and a Chinese cook brought in their breakfast.

"Rice and beans again, I suppose!" said Errington, with a groan. "I've had nothing else."

An idea occurred to Burroughs.

"Take care not to seem friendly with me," he said, twirling his moustache--Reinhardt's moustache!--and turning his back on Errington with true Germanic disdain. "Hai! Chin Tai, tell these fellows that I demand to see the captain at once."

He had some doubt whether his demand would be acceded to, but Chung Pi had apparently antic.i.p.ated something of the sort, for one of the sentinels called up a man from the courtyard, and sent him with the message to the captain.

When Chung Pi appeared, it was evident that he was much amused. He laughed as he spoke to Chin Tai.

"He say ma.s.sa hab catchee too plenty muchee plison," said Chin Tai.

"It's all very well," said Burroughs, frowning haughtily. "I asked you to arrest me, for form's sake, but I didn't say I'd agree to be starved.

Is this the fare to put before a German? It is good enough for the Englishman, but it won't do for me."

He glanced scornfully at Errington, who, taking the cue, a.s.sumed an air of dejection and humility.

"I am sorry," said Chung Pi contritely. "It was a mere oversight on my part. The cook naturally provided for the second prisoner as for the first. He did not know of the understanding between your honourable excellency and my unworthy self. I will at once have a dinner prepared worthy of your august eminence."

"That is well," said Burroughs. "When I have finished my meal, I shall give myself the pleasure of showing to you the boat which lies at the landing-stage."

"I must sleep a little first," said Chung Pi. "I have eaten so many melon seeds that my belt is exceedingly tight."

"At any time your excellency pleases," said Burroughs, with a bow.

The captain retired, after giving orders to the cook. Presently the servant returned, bringing a right royal feast--pickled duck's eggs, bean curd, pork patties, chopped cuc.u.mber, millet cakes soaked in treacle, fried cabbage--all very tastily dressed, together with water melons and tea.

As soon as the door was shut, the two prisoners fell to with a will.

"You'll want something better than rice and beans if we're to have any bother," said Burroughs. "This is very good; I only wish they didn't use quite so much garlic and oil."

When they had finished their dinner, Burroughs knocked at the door, and ordered Chin Tai, who meanwhile had had to satisfy himself with rice, to let the captain know that he was ready. It was some time before Chung Pi appeared, cracking and eating melon seeds. What explanation he gave to the sentinels of his indulgence to the second prisoner, or whether he condescended to give any explanation at all, Burroughs never knew. He accompanied Chung Pi to the outer gate, where chairs were waiting, and when they had entered these antiquated vehicles, each was lifted by four chai-jen or yamen runners, and carried through crooked and unsavoury streets, too narrow to admit of more than one pa.s.sing at a time, down to the landing-stage. Two chai-jen went in advance, clearing a way with their sticks through the crowd. Chin Tai followed.

Lo San's face beamed at the sight of "Ma.s.sa Bullows." He had begun to fear that some mishap had befallen him, and saw another beating in prospect.

Burroughs invited the captain to step into the hydroplane, but Chung Pi excused himself with many apologies, regretting that the present state of his health--by which Burroughs understood a surfeit of melon seeds--rendered it inadvisable for him to undergo any excitement.

Leaving Chin Tai on the landing-stage, as a guarantee of good faith, Burroughs accordingly embarked alone, and for the s.p.a.ce of a quarter of an hour or so exhibited the qualities of the vessel as a hydroplane, skimming up and down the river at full speed. Its flying powers, however, he refrained from showing.

Chung Pi was so much impressed and delighted with the marvellous vessel that he overcame his squeamishness, and consented to try a short trip up-stream. A few miles above the town, Burroughs caught sight of a small launch coming down swiftly on the current, and ran up to meet it, intending to turn and race it, with the object of still further impressing the captain. But in a few moments Lo San, interpreting a sentence of his pa.s.senger, informed him that the launch was one of Su Fing's dispatch boats, and was probably bringing a message from the chief to Chung Pi.

Feeling somewhat alarmed, Burroughs slowed down, and ran the hydroplane alongside the launch. A sashed and turbaned officer on deck shouted a greeting to Chung Pi, and told him that Su Fing was now on his way down the river with the bulk of his force, and might be expected to arrive before sunset.

"He say you velly happy this time," Lo San interpreted. "Su Fing he come look-see boat, say he velly good, numpa one boat."

Burroughs was anything but happy. He forced a smile, but felt most unphilosophically irritated when the ends of Reinhardt's moustache tickled his cheeks. He listened unheeding to the monotonous voice of Lo San translating the encomiums pa.s.sed by Chung Pi on the admirable vessel, and steered mechanically down-stream towards Meichow, whither the captain said they must return at once in order to make preparations for Su Fing's fitting reception. Sufficiently alive to the necessity of sparing petrol, he did not drive the vessel at full speed, much to the disappointment of Chung Pi, who was looking forward to a dashing reappearance before the eyes of the thousands of admiring spectators now, beyond doubt, congregated at the riverside.

The imminent return of Su Fing threatened to put a bar to any plan that might be evolved for releasing Errington. As yet, think as hard as he might, Burroughs had been quite unable to form any likely scheme. On the way down the river he bent his brains exclusively on the problem, blind to the probability that Chung Pi might become suspicious of his lack of exhilaration at the prospect of a speedy meeting with the chief. The more he puzzled, the more hopeless the situation appeared. He knew that the coming of Su Fing would draw the whole population into the narrow contorted alley-ways that served as streets, so that, even if he got Errington out of the yamen, the chances of gaining the landing-stage undetected were naught. He tried to think of some means of persuading Chung Pi to bring Errington to the hydroplane; indeed, he ventured to hint that it would be a fine thing to meet the chief far up the river, and offer the prisoner to him as a sort of slave to grace his triumph.

But Chung Pi would not hear of it. He objected that the orders he had received were strict: the Englishman was to be closely guarded; and it was as much as his rank was worth to disobey commands so explicit.

Burroughs would not excite suspicion by pressing the point; and, indeed, he liked the fat simpleton so well as to wish to avoid getting him into hot water.

Thus uneasy, depressed, more nervous than he had ever been in his life before, he was running towards the landing-stage, not giving a glance beyond, when an exclamation from Lo San caused him to lift his eyes.

Then he saw something that shot a cold shiver through him. This was the last straw. A quarter of a mile beyond the landing-stage, coming round a bend in the river, was the nose of a launch which he instantly recognized as Reinhardt's. It would reach the stage about the same time as his own vessel. The game was up! Reinhardt was certainly on board; the launch had never been seen on the river without him. He would certainly betray the pseudo-German. There had never been any love lost between them. They had parted in anger. And with a man of Reinhardt's temperament the "rape of the lock," the explanation of which would flash upon him the moment he caught sight of it adorning Burroughs' lip, would supply the fiercest motive for revenge.

Burroughs turned his head away from Chung Pi; he could no longer keep up the forced smile, which he felt must have become an awful grimace.

Always a little slow of thought, he did not remember, for a moment or two, that in his story to Chung Pi he had unwittingly provided himself with an avenue of safety. All at once the recollection flashed upon him: he was Lieutenant Eitel Reinhardt, of the gunboat _Kaiser Wilhelm_.

The moustacheless German was his brother!

"My brother! my brother!" he shouted excitedly.

Lo San looked at him in amazement. Was his master mad? Then he, too, remembered.

"My honourable master's brother," he exclaimed to Chung Pi.

The captain's broad face gleamed with interest and satisfaction. This new arrival was the very man who had arranged the gifts for Su Fing, whom his brother had so unfortunately missed, of whose money he himself had a hundred dollars safely tucked into his pouch.

"Brothers are as double cherries," he said. "The coming of your august relative is as the shining of the morning sun on the closed petals of a rose."

Burroughs bowed as Lo San translated, feeling that another word would make him shout with maniacal laughter. With a turn of the wrist he ran the boat alongside the landing-stage, just a second or two before the launch came up at the farther end. With Chung Pi he stepped off, observing that Reinhardt was standing at his gangway, waiting for his heavier and more c.u.mbersome vessel to be brought alongside. And almost wishing that the planks might part, and plunge him into the water and oblivion, he walked forward to meet his fate.

CHAPTER XV

REINHARDT IN THE TOILS

Burroughs and the smiling captain were still some few yards away from Reinhardt's gangway; Reinhardt was staring with puzzled curiosity at the tall German with the moustache so like his own lost treasure; when Burroughs whispered to Lo San--

"Say to the captain: 'That is the launch, but where is my brother? My brother wears a moustache like mine. Do not the English shave the lip?

Ask him who he is.'"

Chung Pi was a horse-boy turned captain; like many great men sprung from humble origin, he was apt to stand upon his dignity. Advancing towards the stranger as he stepped on to the landing-stage, he introduced himself with a grave pomposity, and asked Reinhardt to what Meichow owed the honour of his visit.

The German's eyes were fixed in a puzzled stare on Burroughs, who had taken off his cap as in respectful salutation. The close-cropped hair, the pencilled eyebrows, the stiff perpendicularity of his waxed moustache-ends, had so much altered his appearance that Reinhardt, though he felt that he had seen him somewhere before, did not recognize him. Germanic though his aspect was, there was a nameless something about him that put Reinhardt on his guard. Turning to Chung Pi, he replied courteously, in Chinese, that he was a German employed by his government to keep in touch with the august Su Fing, and that his honourable questioner without doubt knew the name of Reinhardt as a friend and ally of his chief.

Lo San was quick-witted. He saw that there was no time to translate the conversation to Burroughs, and for the moment held his peace. Burroughs could only stand in a commanding att.i.tude with folded arms, accusation in his frown. He bethought himself of his moustache, and gave it a cautious twirl. And all the time he wished with desperate anxiety that he could understand what Reinhardt was saying.

Chung Pi looked at the German with fatuous indecision. Burroughs felt that another moment might seal his fate. He was beating his brains for a possible move if his stratagem failed, when Lo San interrupted Reinhardt as he was asking whether Su Fing had returned to the town.

"You see, honourable captain," he said, "that this man who calls himself a German has no moustache!"

And now the pen of the narrator fails: only a gramophone and a cinematograph could faithfully record the scene. Imagine the three men: the magnified horse-boy, bewildered between a furious German, shouting in Chinese, and a calm but quaking Englishman, standing like a judge about to condemn; with a shrill-voiced China boy at his side, screaming into Chung Pi's very ear; the men on the landing-stage gaping; the motley crowd at the sh.o.r.eward end watching keenly, like the spectators at a boxing-match. Chung Pi, Reinhardt, Lo San, were all talking at once. Reinhardt, incoherent with rage, yelled "I am a German." Chung Pi asked him not to shout. Lo San, determined to make himself heard, screamed "He is an Englishman. As your excellency knows, the friend of Su Fing wears a moustache; it is the custom in his country; look at my august master."

Chung Pi, a peasant beneath his uniform, was slow, tenacious and pig-headed. He had seen Reinhardt once or twice, and carried away an impression of a moustache and little more. If this was Reinhardt, where was the moustache? He felt that he was being played with--he, the lieutenant of Su Fing, was bemocked by a man whose upper lip was even cleaner than that of the Englishman in the yamen. And when Burroughs, taking advantage of Reinhardt's vociferous abuse, whispered to Lo San to suggest that the man should be put with the other Englishman, and Lo San yelled the suggestion into the captain's ear, Chung Pi's simple mind was made up. Beckoning to some of his ruffians who stood expectantly by, he ordered them to seize the pig of an Englishman and carry him to the yamen. The chief should deal with him.