CHAPTER IX.
When Charlie arrived at his home, in an unmistakably ill-fitting suit of clothes and accompanied by a Chinaman, equally badly dressed, he caused great surprise to his family. If he had returned dressed in 'fear-noughts' and a jersey, or even in 'oilies,' they would not have been surprised, but there was nothing nautical about his present attire.
'Well, my boy,' Charlie's father said to him, after Ping Wang had been introduced, 'have you had a good time?'
'Well, not exactly,' Charlie answered, 'but I have discovered that Skipper Drummond is an old rascal, and that he believes he will have no difficulty in swindling you.'
'He is not the first person who has thought that and has lived to find that he has made a mistake. However, you can tell me all about it after dinner. You had better run upstairs and change your clothes.'
After dinner, Charlie related all that had happened to him, from the time he met the bow-legged cook until he came back to Grimsby.
'I suspected that you would have a rough time,' Mr. Page said, when Charlie had finished his story, 'but I never thought that you would meet with so many unpleasant adventures. However, as you have discovered that Skipper Drummond is a dishonourable man, I am not sorry that you went to sea. I don't suppose you will be in a hurry to go again.'
'I want to go very soon,' Charlie replied. 'I want to go to China with Ping Wang.'
'To settle there?'
'Oh, no; simply to recover Ping Wang's family riches.'
Mr. Page and Fred, not knowing whether Charlie was serious or not, made no remark.
'I'm quite sane,' Charlie declared, seeing that they were surprised; 'Ping Wang will tell you about it.'
Ping Wang, thus called upon, repeated the story of his father's death and the seizure of all his property by Chin Choo.
'But how do you know that Chin Choo still possesses the idol with the secret drawer?' Mr. Page inquired, when Ping Wang finished speaking. 'He may have sold it?'
'That is not at all likely,' Ping Wang declared. 'I know that he has had it fixed up in his chief room, and there it will remain as long as the house stands, or until Chin Choo moves somewhere else.'
'And you think that Chin Choo cannot discover that the idol contains precious stones?'
'I am certain of it. My father was a richer man than Chin Choo imagined, and the wealth that the murderer found in our house was more than he had expected. He is quite certain that he has found all my father's wealth. If he were not, he would never think of looking for it in the image.'
'But do you think it possible to get into Chin Choo's house and remove the idol without being discovered?'
'I am certain of it; of course, I shall watch for a favourable opportunity.'
'Well,' Mr. Page said, after a few moments' thought, 'I must think over the matter for a few days before deciding whether I can permit Charlie to accompany you.'
'I wish I could go with them,' Fred joined in. 'I don't desire a share of the treasure. I simply want to go for the experience.'
'But how about your studies?' Mr. Page asked.
'I wouldn't neglect them. I would read hard on board, and as my next examination does not come on for nearly two years, I shall have plenty of time. And when I'm in China I shall be able to study tropical diseases. Medical men are very keen on that, nowadays.'
'Well, if Charlie goes, I see no reason why you should not; but it requires serious consideration.'
'I will share my portion of the treasure with you,' Charlie said to his brother, but Ping Wang objected to that arrangement.
'We will each have a third of what the rubies realise,' he declared, and, in spite of all protests, he insisted that the division of the treasure, if they ever got it, should be made in that way.
Mr. Page listened in silence to their conversation. He was by no means convinced that Ping Wang's story was not an Oriental fiction, invented to arouse sympathy and obtain a free passage home. Now, as it happened, Mr. Page had a friend who was the senior partner of a large firm of Chinese merchants, and had himself resided in China for many years, and he decided, therefore, to question him as to the probability of Ping Wang's story. A day or two later Mr. Page went to London and had an interview with this friend, who confirmed many details of Ping Wang's story, and even came down to Lincolnshire to see the Chinaman in person.
Ping Wang was delighted when he found that the merchant had lived in his country for many years, and could speak his language fluently.
'Ping Wang's story is, I am convinced, quite true,' the merchant said to Mr. Page, when they were alone, 'but his plan is a very risky one.'
'I know, but that has only made them more anxious to go. It is another case of "like father like son." If I had not travelled while young, I am sure I should never have settled down. And the fact that in every place I visited I found scores of Englishmen yearning to return home made me feel that I was a fortunate man to see our distant possessions without being doomed to pass my life in exile. I have sufficient money to keep a home for my children, but I want my sons to be able to earn a living and hold their own by themselves; and I think that, as I have the means to permit them to travel before settling down, they will do well to learn as much as they can of the world outside England. They shall go with Ping Wang. If they help Ping Wang to secure his inheritance, I shall of course be pleased, but I shall be glad for both the lads to gain experience, and I hope they will return in good health.'
A little later Mr. Page told Charlie and Fred that he had decided to allow them to go to China, an announcement which was received with great delight. The next day he went to the shipping agent's, and finding that a boat would start from Liverpool to Hong-kong in twelve days' time, booked saloon passages for Fred, Charlie, and Ping Wang.
'To-morrow,' Mr. Page said to his sons and Ping Wang after he had returned from the shipping agent's, 'you must see about your outfit. The time is very short.'
"There was nothing nautical about Charlie's present attire."
'I think, sir,' Ping Wang said, 'that the clothes I have will be good enough.'
'Would you not like to go in your native dress?'
Ping Wang's eyes brightened.
'Yes,' he answered, 'but you have paid my passage.'
'Don't let that thought trouble you. When you have got back your jewels, you will be able to offer to repay me.'
'You are very generous, sir,' Ping Wang declared.
'Nonsense,' Mr. Page answered. 'You have been a good friend to my boy and have had a rough time since you have been in England. If you carry away a better impression of our country than you would otherwise have done, I shall consider myself repaid for what I have been able to do for you.'
THE PARKS OF LONDON.—III.
Happiest of little Londoners are those who are so fortunate as to live near enough to the Regent's Park for it to form their daily playground. To them the wooded shores of the winding lake, with its three long arms crossed by bridges that rock delightfully, must seem like a little world, with mountains, bays, capes, forests, and many more wonderful things, just as in the great world itself. It is filled with so many living things that dwell round the banks of the lake—the stately swans, the many varieties of the duck family that swim and fly and chase each other all day long, the gentle moorhens gliding in and out of the rushes, and the mother vole or water-rat nibbling a juicy bit of grass in the sunshine, or swimming to cover with her babies on her back; and now and again the peace of this little world is rudely broken by the distant roar of a real lion or the shriek of a hungry hyena, which frightens all the smaller animals into silence.
Perhaps no greater benefit ever befell the good folk of London town than when, early in the nineteenth century, it occurred to the authorities to turn the old Royal Park of St. Mary-le-bone into a real people's park. A great many plans were suggested for laying out the ground. One very ornamental scheme was probably rejected because of its expense; in it a fine church was to form a central point, with avenues running from it like spokes of a wheel. The design which was accepted and carried out consists of four oval drives lying like rings inside one another; in the centre of the inside one are the Royal Botanical Gardens. Rare and wonderful treasures of vegetable life are kept there—flowering plants and shrubs, palms, ferns, mosses, water-plants, and trees from many lands, each the object of deep thought and care. From time to time grand floral fêtes are held in the gardens, and often on summer evenings Shakespeare's plays are acted in the open air.
The northern side of the park is chiefly given up to the Zoological Gardens; and, indeed, to the world at large, apart from Londoners, Regent's Park often means nothing but 'the Zoo.' Probably it is safe to say that no other park in the world annually attracts so many visitors.
The collection at the Zoological Gardens was begun in 1828, and amongst the first arrivals were the lions from the Tower, for, from ancient days, lions and bears kept the old royal fortress lively. Great sums of money have been spent in securing fine specimens, and now Britons have the satisfaction of knowing that our Zoo is second to none. Amongst recent arrivals at the gardens were two young gorillas from Western Africa, who reached the Zoo in apparent health, but, as has happened on former occasions, after a few weeks the poor things sickened and died. Whether they suffer from the effects of the voyage, or whether the shock of their capture is too great for them, the fact remains that gorillas seem unable to endure the altered conditions of life which most of the other members of the great ape family can put up with.
But, with all the attractions of the Zoo, it would not do to be dependent on it for amusement, for even on Monday, 'the people's day,' it costs sixpence, and many of the park's most frequent visitors find pennies hard to come by. Pleasure has to be sought and found on the various recreation grounds, and, in fine weather, cricket and other games are usually in full swing.
A very favourite walk with many visitors is to Primrose Hill, north-west of the Zoo, which rises two hundred and nineteen feet above sea-level, where the air is usually clear and bright, whilst the view over London is very fine. The hill is the property of Eton College, and is separated from the Zoo by the Regent's Canal, as well as by the Albert Road. Beneath the slope is a fine gymnasium, which still further adds to the attractions of the park, and many fine terraces of houses line the outer circles.
The park takes its name from the Prince Regent, afterwards George IV.
Helena Heath.
NEVER CAUGHT IT.
'He is always very busy,' said one man to another.
'Yes,' answered a gentleman who knew the person in question. 'He is so lazy in getting up that he loses an hour every morning, and spends all the rest of the day in running after it.'
An hour lost means an hour which can only be regained by neglecting other work.
RAT-SKINS.
The Japanese are a wonderful people, and their foresight in even the smallest matters is really marvellous. Here is a case in point.
Late in 1904, when the time came to forward the winter outfits for their soldiers fighting in Manchuria, amongst the wadded overcoats and thick blankets were some hundreds of thousands of ear-protectors made out of rats' skins.
Even the military authorities were surprised by these, and wondered where the Government could have found so many rats as to be able to supply their soldiers with such soft and comfortable coverings for their ears.
It seems that two years ago plague was raging along the China coast, and, to keep the disease out of Japan, the quarantine authorities made war against the rats. In all the seaports and larger cities rewards were offered for each rat brought; small boys found this a delightful way of earning money, and the competition at once became very keen.
Every rat was duly registered, and the place where it was caught noted, and if any suspicious germs were found, the building from which the rat came was raided, all the rats in it hunted down, and the place disinfected. So the plague was kept out of Japan.
Meanwhile the rat-skins had not been thrown away; war was even then threatening, and ear-protectors might be wanted.
So the rat-skins were all thoroughly cleansed and disinfected, and made into ear-protectors, and now have proved a great blessing to the soldiers in the field.
THE OLD CLOCK.
one of my early recollections of our pretty little home in England is so clear as that of the old grandfather's clock that stood in the hall. I remember that my mother and father were very fond of it, and when my brother and I once grumbled, saying, 'That old clock is always slow,' my mother reproved us with the words: 'Oh, children, you must not say that, for the fact that it often goes slow when the big hand is going up towards the hour was the very thing that once saved your great-grandfather's life.'
That was the curious thing about the clock. Every now and then, for some reason, the minute-hand seemed to work loose, soon after the half-hour, and, before it reached the three-quarters, it lost five minutes. It might manage to go a whole day without doing this; but sooner or later it always happened, so that the clock could not be relied upon for time.
Of course, we were very eager to hear the story, and, as we sat round the fire that evening, my mother told us the following tale:—
'You know, children, that we have not always lived in England; my ancestors were French, and lived at Château Roquefort, in the province of La Vendée. When the great insurrection broke out in the year 1792, my grandfather, Philippe de Roquefort, was one of the leading insurgents against the Republic. For a time the insurrection was successful, and the Republican generals were driven across the Loire. But at last there came a time when Philippe de Roquefort saw that to resist any longer was hopeless, and, as he had a wife and a little son, he resolved that, for their sakes, it was prudent to flee to England.
'They had abandoned Roquefort itself three days before, but the evening before their leaving France, Philippe was obliged to ride over to the château (five miles or so from the little town where he and his family, with about a dozen trusty followers, had taken refuge) to fetch some important papers.
'The whole neighbourhood swarmed with Republicans, but, with his knowledge of the country, he reached the deserted château safely.
'The whole place had a forsaken air as Philippe entered the hall he knew so well, where all his happy boyhood had been spent; but one familiar object caught his eye—the old clock, which had been too cumbersome to take with them in their flight, and which was still ticking in its accustomed manner. Philippe secured his papers, and was just leaving the château, taking a last fond look at his home, when a heavy hand pulled him backwards, and, before he could reach his sword, he was bound hand and foot.
'"We have caught the bird in his own nest," said a loud voice—and the boisterous laughter of several men made the rafters in the old hall ring.
'Philippe saw that he had been captured by five rough Republicans, who dragged him into the middle of the hall and then sat round him, consulting as to his fate. At last they decided that, at a quarter to six by the old clock, he should be shot. They had some time to wait before going back to their camp.
'Philippe gave himself up for lost. The ruffians soon began to jeer at him, and asked if he had any messages for his friends. Then my grandfather lost all his patience, and throwing aside all prudence, cried: "Yes, you villains, if I had my faithful followers here, they would soon make an end of you."
'The men laughed at this, but suddenly a cruel idea struck one of them.
'"Yes," he said, "Monsieur shall have his way"—and, looking up at the clock, he continued: "It is now five o'clock; Pierre, the peasant's son, who lives yonder, shall ride with a message to these devoted followers. Monsieur shall be shot at a quarter to six; but he can write and tell his friends to be here at ten minutes to the hour; they will come and find Monsieur—five minutes too late. We can get away easily enough before they arrive."
'His comrades agreed to this plan, which gave an adventurous tone to their enterprise, and inflicted, as well, extra misery upon their prisoner.
'A scrap of paper and a pencil were given to my grandfather; but, as he was writing, Philippe remembered with joy that the old clock on which his captors were relying had not yet lost its five minutes that day; he had noticed this as he glanced round the hall before his capture; and, therefore, at a quarter to six—the time when, by the clock, he was going to be put to death—it might be ten minutes to the hour by the proper time—if the clock only went wrong for once at a convenient time!
'The peasant-boy, Pierre, was sent with the message, and the men settled themselves down to ransacking the house, exulting over the trick they were going to play.
'The time crept by. As a quarter to six drew near Philippe was bound to a tree, and the men set to work to load their muskets! Had the clock lost five minutes, or not? Every minute of waiting seemed like an hour, and Philippe could not be sure whether the hand had stuck still too long, or not. He thought it had, but could he trust his eyes in such a terrible situation?
'You can imagine my grandfather's feelings during those last few awful minutes! A hundred conjectures flashed through his mind. Suppose the boy never gave the message! or suppose the men were late! or suppose the clock was not slow after all!
'At last the Republicans were ready, and Philippe gave himself up for lost. Suddenly the sound of horses' hoofs was heard breaking through the undergrowth. The Republicans hesitated, and, as they stood undecided, ten or a dozen men rode up hastily. They were only just in time; the Republicans fought for a few minutes, but they were taken by surprise, and soon surrendered. Philippe was saved!'
'What a narrow escape, Mother,' we cried, 'and if it had not been for the old clock's habit of losing time——'
'Well, my dear, the story would have ended very differently.'
"The men set to work to load their muskets."
HEROES AND HEROINES OF FAMOUS BOOKS.
III.—GARTH AND HIS FRIENDS.[4]
This striking story belongs to the days of the Great French Revolution of 1792. The hero is a young Englishman, the son of Colonel Mainwaring, of the 2nd Dragoon Guards, and at the time the story opens he is on a visit to Paris to his uncle and aunt. Before we narrate one or two striking incidents of his life in France, however, we must say something, very briefly, about the French Revolution, during which so many terrible things were done that it was known as the Reign of Terror. One of the grievances of the people in France was that the power of the nobles had greatly increased, so that they did as they liked. Though they claimed unlimited privileges, yet they refused to take up the responsibilities of their position, and even evaded the taxes which they laid on the shoulders of the people. One unpopular tax was the gabelle, or salt tax, which compelled every person to bring a fixed quantity of salt every year, and made them buy it of certain people who alone had the right to sell, and charged enormous prices. The peasants, too, had to work on the roads for nothing, leaving their farms and little plots of ground whenever they were ordered. They could not earn enough to live on, and what with heavy dues to their lords, and the State interference with trade, they were in a wretched plight, and discontent was widespread. Then famous writers, moved by what was going on around them, wrote strongly against the abuse of power by the nobles and the King, teaching that kings were but the servants of the people. The poor, ignorant, downtrodden peasantry, urged by the selfish trading classes who used them for their own ends, united in a great movement to take away the privileges of the nobles. The serfs flung off the heavy yoke, and went to the worst excesses, burning and wrecking the palaces of their former masters, utterly ruining them and driving them out of the country.
The Commons, or National Assembly as they styled themselves, did not stop when they had introduced reforms that were really needed, but did just as their passion against the aristocrats and the rich dictated. Things passed from bad to worse when the King, who had the right of refusing the proposals of the National Assembly, exercised his right and vetoed (from veto, I forbid) two of their decrees. This made the people furious. All this was new to Garth Mainwaring, as also was the procession of noisy people, marching through the streets to the beating of drums, carrying banners, and howling and shouting at any well-dressed people they met. Garth saw the mob battering at the doors of the King's palace, calling for his Majesty to come out, and when the King, in quiet dignity, stood before them, they ordered him to put on the red cap of liberty, and grossly insulted him and his beautiful Queen and their children.
Garth had felt his blood leap up as he witnessed this, and in his young enthusiasm he longed to fight on the side of the royal prisoner and his nobles. On the evening of one dreadful day, during which the mob had done wild things, as Garth was passing on towards the Rue Saint Honoré, he heard a faint voice on his left hand. It came from the figure of a man huddled in a doorway, who had been mortally wounded and was rapidly dying.
'Sir,' gasped the man, in English, 'Sir, save my daughter. Go to her, sir, and give her her father's dying blessing.'
'I will go, sir,' said Garth. 'Will you tell me your name?'
'The Baron de Méricourt. I was in the palace. I got away as by a miracle, but I fell among the ruffians here, and they have done for me. Waste no more time, I implore you. Save my darling Lucile, and tell her her father——' But here, with one more gasp, he died.
Another striking adventure befell our hero at Nantes. It was after he had offered to throw in his lot with Bonchamps, a leader of the loyalists, and donned the white cockade of those whose watch-word was 'for God and the King.' He was asked whether he would make an attempt, as they were to attack Nantes, a stronghold of the 'Blues,' to find out the enemy's position. Of course he agreed; there were no dangers in the path of duty that could deter Garth. He was disguised in a peasant's dress, and carried a basket full of live pigeons, which he was to offer for sale as he journeyed. Nantes was a strong position, strongly fortified and manned by the enemy, yet the brave peasants and loyalists of the Vendée determined to endeavour to take it for the young King (for the unhappy Louis XVI. and his beautiful Queen had been put to death by the influence of the more savage leaders of the Revolutionary party). It was late in the evening when Garth started. It would be nearly midnight before he could reach the city. When he came within two miles of the town he saw a barge, laden with wood, moving slowly down the river. Hailing the old man on board, who was holding the rudder, and allowing the laden craft to drift down with the tide, 'Holà,' cried Garth, 'Hé! can you give me a lift down to the quay?'
'Who are you?' asked the bargeman, Jules Viard by name.
'A poor chap with a pair of pigeons to sell.'
The man agreed to the request, and Garth sprang on to the barge as soon as it came within jumping distance, and it resumed its slow passage down the river. Presently the vessel was steered alongside the quay, where the good-natured boatman made her fast for the night, sleeping in her himself to save the few sous he would otherwise have had to pay for his bed; but Garth went along on the riverside, as he wished to look about him to learn what he could of the strength and position of the enemy.
As his wooden shoes clicked on the stone paving, he stripped them off and strung them round his neck. The cathedral clock struck the hour of midnight. On and on he went, using his eyes well. He had reached the Paris road, up which his friends of the Vendean army would probably approach, when he saw an immense obstruction. Climbing a tree, the better to look about him, he found that the obstruction was a big redoubt, very solidly constructed. Scaling garden walls and getting behind the redoubt, he satisfied himself that it could be taken from the rear, and being by this time very tired, he lay down under a hedge to sleep till daylight.
The next morning he sold his pigeons to a lieutenant of the National Guard for forty sous, and spent the rest of the day walking about the town with his friend, Viard the bargeman, leaving him at nightfall to begin his return journey. Turning down a narrow passage leading to the river, between two high warehouses, he saw three men, and, as it turned out, men whom he had met before, all enemies to the King's cause. One of them, the Mayor, stopped him.
'Well, my man, where are you going?'
Garth turned his head aside.
'Where are you going?' repeated the Mayor.
'Down to the river, citizen. Came in last night on a barge to sell pigeons.'
'On a barge, eh? Were you molested by the brigands?'
'No, citizen; I joined the barge some two miles up, and saw nothing of brigands.'
The man standing to the left of the Mayor started as he heard the tone of Garth's voice. He looked closely into Garth's face, suddenly pulled off his hat, and with a quick cry, ''Tis the very man!' tried to seize him. Quick as thought, Garth slipped aside, then, before the other two had recovered from their surprise at their companion's strange action, he rushed at the Mayor, threw him over backwards, turned and flung his basket in the face of the other, then wheeled round and ran as fast as the clumsy sabots would allow him, clattering down the passage towards the river, the man behind him shouting, 'Help! a spy—a brigand—help!' Two of his enemies dashed after him, and the Mayor picked himself up and toddled off as fast as his short legs would carry him to call up the nearest guard, two hundred yards away. The National Guard was soon aroused, and the whole garrison was under arms. The dauntless Englishman reached the river. He did not hesitate; pulling off his shoes and flinging them at his pursuers, now only ten yards away, he plunged into the river. A soldier with his gun arrived, pointed his musket at Garth's head, and fired; Garth twisted over and dived, and the bullet hit the water just behind him. Others of the guard came up, fired at his bobbing head, but missed it. On he swam boldly, determinedly; and now the firing has ceased, although he can hear the clamour. His courage and presence of mind had saved him; he was now in a friendly country, and the first man he met was wearing the King's cockade!
But here we must leave our hero, proud that he was an Englishman, and that he afterwards distinguished himself by many deeds of valour, passing unhurt through many dangers, from the worst of which he was rescued by his old friend, Viard the bargeman. How he presently married Lucile de Méricourt, and accepted an appointment at Lisbon, and what became of his friends and foes, is all told by Mr. Rendel in his fine and stirring book, which every British boy who is ready to cheer pluck should read for himself.
James Cassidy.