CHAPTER XIII. WILLIS ROUND ESCAPES.
No man, or boy, for that matter, knows just what he can do until put to the test. We may think we know the limit of our strength or endurance, but we cannot prove it until an emergency arises. Then we are often found mistaken in our previous surmises, and, need it be said, much to our amazement.
Nature is a wise mother. She has provided in all a reserve force which only needs the touch of an exigency to cause it to appear full powered. A task is set before you—you cannot do it in your opinion; but you try—and succeed. You are in peril; only a miracle of strength or shrewdness will save you. Involuntarily you act, and, lo! the miracle comes from your good right arm or your brain.
A lad learning to swim places a dozen yards as the extent of his powers. He enters the water; is carried beyond his depth; swept away by an undertow, and swims successfully the length of three city blocks. It was his reserve force and the stimulating fear of death that brought him safely to shore.
When Nattie Manning felt himself falling into the canal, sent there by Willis Round's cunning arm, he realized only one emotion, and that was rage—overpowering, consuming anger. He was wild with wrath to think that he had been tricked by the ex-bookkeeper, and the flames of his passion were not lessened by discomfiture.
It seemed that he had barely touched the water before he was out, climbing hand over hand up the jagged stone side. To this day he does not know how he emerged so quickly, or by what latent force of muscle he dragged himself to the passageway.
He gained the spot, however, and, thoroughly saturated with water, set out at the top of his speed after his assailant, whose shadowy figure scurried along in front of him toward the bay. What the lad hoped to accomplish he could not well tell himself, but he continued the pursuit with the keen determination of a bloodhound.
A short distance back of the "go-down," a narrow street ran from the bluff to the center of the city. It crossed the canal with the aid of a low bridge, and was occupied by storehouses.
The storm was passing away. The rain had slackened perceptibly, and the wind had died down to occasional puffs. In the south lightning could still be seen, but it was the mere glowing of atmospheric heat.
In that part of Yokohama devoted to mercantile warehouses, the street lamps were few and far between. There was one at the junction of the bridge and passageway, however, and when Nattie dashed into its circle of illumination, he suddenly found himself confronted by a uniformed policeman.
The latter immediately stretched out his arms and brought the lad to a halt. Then drawing his short-sword, he demanded in peremptory tones the meaning of his haste. Seeing the futility of resisting the official, Nattie hurriedly made known his identity, and explained the events of the night.
Brief as was the delay, when the two started in pursuit of the fugitive, enough time had been wasted to permit him to escape. A hasty search of the neighborhood brought no results. Willis Round was out of reach.
"No matter," remarked the lad, at last. "I know him, and it won't be difficult to apprehend the scoundrel."
Returning to the "go-down" with the officer, he closed the window and then dispatched the man to the nearest messenger office with a note for Grant. In due time the police official returned with assistance. Patrick Cronin was found helplessly intoxicated in a nearby house, and unceremoniously lugged away to jail.
The lame youth was prompt in his appearance on the scene. He brought with him a servant of the family, who was installed as watchman until the morrow. Relieved from his responsibility, Nattie accompanied his brother home, and after explaining the affair in detail, proceeded to take the rest he needed for the wrestling match of the next day.
On reporting at the office the following morning, he found Grant and Mori still discussing Willis Round's actions. A report from the police stated that nothing had been accomplished. The fugitive was still at liberty, and in all probability had left the city.
"I'll wager a yen he is speeding as fast as the train can carry him to either Nagasaki or Kobe," remarked Mori. "He'll try to get a ship and leave the country."
Grant shook his head doubtfully.
"In my opinion, he will not do that," he said. "There are too many places in the interior where he can hide until this affair blows over."
"If the scoundrel ever shows his face in Yokohama I'll see that he is placed behind the bars," exclaimed Nattie, vindictively. "He deserves little mercy at our hands. If an all-wise Providence had not sent me to the 'go-down' last night we would now be considerably out of pocket."
"What will we do with Patrick Cronin?"
"Discharge him; that's all. We can't prove any connection with Round. The latter simply tempted him away from his duty with a bottle of whiskey. It will be impossible to bring a criminal charge against the Irishman."
"I will see that he remains in jail for a couple of weeks, anyway," decided Grant. "He deserves some punishment."
"When shall we close up?" asked Nattie, gayly. "This is a great holiday, you know. We are due at the race track by ten."
"It's a quarter past nine now," replied the young Japanese, looking at his watch. "Suppose we start at once?"
The suggestion was acted upon with alacrity. Leaving the office in charge of a native watchman, the three youths took jinrikishas and proceeded to the "bluff," where the sports of the day were to take place.
The storm of the preceding night had ended in delightful weather. The tropical rays of the sun were tempered by a cooling breeze from the bay. The air was glorious with briskness, and so clear that the majestic peak of Fuji San seemed within touch.
The city was in gala attire. Banners of all nations were flaunting in the breeze, but after the Japanese flag of the Rising Sun, the grand old Stars and Stripes predominated. It could not be said that the firm of Manning Brothers & Okuma had failed in patriotism.
Streaming from a lofty flagstaff on the roof was an immense American ensign, and draping the façade of the building were others intertwined with the standard of the country. The streets were decorated with arches and bunting, and every second native wore a little knot of red, white and blue.
It was a unique celebration, from one point of view. Many years before, the gallant Commodore Perry had sailed into the Bay of Yokohama with a message of good will from the then President of the United States to the ruler of Japan.
At that time the island kingdom was walled in by impassable bulwarks of exclusiveness and hatred of foreigners. For thousands of years she had calmly pursued her course of life, lost to civilization, and satisfied with her reign of idols and depths of barbarism.
It required a strong hand to force a way to the central power, and time waited until the Yankee commodore appeared with his fleet of ships. Other nations had tried to pierce the barrier. England, France, Germany made repeated attempts, but were repulsed.
The Dutch secured a foothold of trade, but on the most degrading terms. Their representatives were compelled to approach the mikado and grovel upon their knees with heads bowed in the dust. In this debasing attitude were they greeted with the contempt they deserved, and as slaves to Japan.
Much as Americans desired commercial relations with the country, they would not accept them with humility. In the selection of an envoy the United States could not have decided on a better man than Commodore Perry, brother of the hero of Lake Erie.
Firm, implacable, intelligent, and generous withal, he was the fitting choice. On reaching Japan he was met with refusals and evasions. He persisted, and finally the august ruler sent a minor official to confer with the foreigner.
"I am here as personal representative of the United States of America, and I will see no one save the mikado himself, or his highest official," replied the bluff naval officer. "I have ten ships and two hundred guns, and here I stay until I am received with the formalities due my President."
He finally won the point, and after the usual delay, a treaty was made between the two countries, to the amazement of the civilized world. This was the entering wedge which resulted in the Japan of to-day. Lifted from her barbarism, she has reached a high plane among nations. Small wonder that her people celebrate the anniversary, and honor the memory of the immortal Commodore Perry.
With apologies for this digression, I will again take up the thread of the story.