CHAPTER XVIII. EVIL TIDINGS.
To those who have not experienced the coming of sudden disaster, word descriptions are feeble. It is easy to tell how this and that occurred; to speak of the wails and cries of the injured; to try to depict the scene in sturdy English, but the soul-thrilling terror, the horror, and physical pain of the moment must be felt.
In the present case the accident was so entirely unexpected that the very occurrence carried an added quota of dreadful dismay. The spot had never been considered unsafe. At the time of construction eminent engineers had decided that it would be perfectly feasible to lay the rails close to the edge of the sea.
A stout parapet of stone afforded ample protection, in their opinion, but they had not gauged the resistless power of old ocean. The coming of a fierce south wind worked the mischief, and in much less time than is required in the telling, the doomed train was cast a mass of wreckage against the unyielding face of the cliff.
The first crash extinguished the lights, adding impenetrable darkness to the scene. It found Nattie and Mori within touch of each other. They instinctively grouped together; but a second and more violent wrench of the coach sent them flying in different directions.
The instinct of life is strong in all. The drowning wretch's grasp at a straw is only typical of what mortals will do to keep aglow the vital spark.
Terror-stricken, and stunned from the force of the shock, Nattie still fought desperately for existence. He felt the coach reeling beneath his feet, he was tossed helplessly like a truss of hay from side to side, and then almost at his elbow he heard a familiar voice shrieking:
"Mercy! mercy! The blessed saints have mercy upon a poor sinner. Oi'm sorry for me misdeeds. Oi regret that Oi was even now going against the law. Oi confess that Oi meant to lead them two young fellows away so that——"
The words ended in a dreadful groan as the car gave a violent lurch, then Nattie felt a shock of pain and he lost consciousness. When he came to, it was to find the bright sun shining in his face.
It was several moments before he could recognize his surroundings. A sound as of persons moaning in agony brought back the dreadful truth. He found himself lying upon a stretcher, and near at hand were others, each bearing a similar burden.
The temporary beds were stretched along the face of the cliff. A dozen feet away was a huge mass of shattered coaches and the wreck of a locomotive. A number of Japanese were still working amid the débris, evidently in search of more victims of the disaster.
Nattie attempted to rise, but the movement caused him excruciating pain in the left shoulder. A native, evidently a surgeon, was passing at the moment, and noticing the action, he said, with a smile of encouragement:
"Just keep quiet, my lad. You are all right, merely a dislocation. Do not worry, we will see that you are well taken care of."
"But my friend?" replied the boy, faintly. "His name is Mori Okuma, and he was near me when the accident occurred. Can you tell me anything of him? Is he safe?"
"Is he one of my countrymen, a youth like yourself, and clad in tweed?"
"Yes, yes."
"Well, I can relieve your anxiety," was the cheering reply. "He is working like a trooper over there among the coaches. It was he who rescued you and brought you here. Wait; I will call him."
A moment later Mori made his appearance, but how sadly changed was his usually neat appearance. His hat was gone, his clothing torn and disordered, and his face grimed with dust and dirt. He laughed cheerily, however, on seeing Nattie, and made haste to congratulate him on his escape.
"This is brave," he exclaimed. "You will soon be all right, old boy. No, don't try to get up; your arm is dislocated at the shoulder, and perfect quiet is absolutely necessary."
"But I can't lie here like a stick, Mori," groaned the lad. "What's a dislocation, anyway? It shouldn't keep a fellow upon his back."
"You had better take the doctor's advice. The relief train will start for Kobe before long, and once in a good hotel, you can move about. This is a terrible accident. Fully twenty persons have lost their lives, and as many more wounded."
"Have you seen anything of Patrick Cronin?"
"No, nothing. It is thought several bodies were carried out to sea when the water rolled back after tearing away the parapet. His may be one of them."
The Irishman's words, heard during the height of the turmoil, returned to Nattie. He now saw the significance of the Irishman's cry.
"Something is up, Mori," he said, gravely, explaining the matter. "It certainly seems as if Patrick was leading us on a wild-goose chase."
"That was Grant's impression, anyway. Did the fellow really use those words?"
"Yes, and he evidently told the truth. He was in fear of death, and he confessed aloud that he was leading us away so that something could happen. At the interesting moment his voice died away to a groan, then I lost consciousness."
"What do you think he could have meant?"
"It is something to do with the Blacks, I'll wager."
"But does he know them?"
"He is acquainted with Willis Round, and that is the same thing."
Mori seemed doubtful.
"You don't think he intended to lead us into a trap?" he asked, incredulously.
"Hardly, but——"
"Grant?"
Nattie sat up in the stretcher despite the pain the effort caused him.
"Mori, we must communicate with him at once," he said. "There is no telling what could happen while we are away. Confound it! I'll never forgive myself if this should prove to be a ruse. Can you telegraph from here?"
"No, we must wait until we reach Kobe. Now don't excite yourself, my dear fellow. You will only work into a fever, and that will retard your recovery. I really think we are mistaken. But even if it should prove true, it won't mend matters by making yourself worse."
The lad fell back with a groan. He acknowledged the wisdom of Mori's remark, and he remained quiet until the relief train finally carried him with the balance of the survivors to the city they had recently left. Mori hastened to the telegraph office after seeing his charge to a hotel.
What Nattie suffered in spirit during the Japanese youth's absence can only be measured by the great love he bore his crippled brother. The very thought that something had happened to him was anguish. He knew that Grant was bravery itself despite his physical disability, and that he would not hesitate to confront his enemies single-handed.
When the turning of the door knob proclaimed Mori's return, Nattie actually bounded from the bed and met him halfway. One glance at the Japanese youth's face was enough. Evil news was written there with a vivid brush. In one hand he held a telegram, which he gave to his companion without a word.