Under the Chinese Dragon: A Tale of Mongolia

by F. S. Brereton

At a sign from the faithful fellow David produced the pouch in which the letters were carried, and showed them to the man, looking askance as he did so at the soldiers, for it was evident that they were fully ready for mischief. Indeed, had he but known it, Hatsu bore none too enviable a reputation. It appeared, indeed, that only some few months before an attack had been made in this city upon some European missionaries, and had resulted in the death of one. As a consequence the commander of the place had been dismissed, while a number of the delinquents had been beheaded; and the common people still smarted under what they imagined was a grievance. However, the magic name of Twang Chun carried the day. The Tartar officer drew back grudgingly, eyeing Jong as if he would dearly have loved to kill him. Nor did he regard the disappearing figures of David and his merry companion with any better favour.

'Foreign devils in disguise!' he growled to his men. 'Why in disguise? Tell me that. Answer me that question. Why do foreign devils come to our city and demand entrance when the dusk has fallen? Why?'

He held the lamp up to each face in turn, and receiving no answer bade them enter the guard-house with him. He caused the doors to be closed, and then spoke with no little show of excitement.

'Why do foreign devils reach us when the evening has come, and attempt to pass us disguised as mandarins? I will tell you now. You who are ignorant and do not gather news have heard only as a rumour, perhaps, the fact that death stalks through the provinces of Manchuria—black death!'

They recoiled from him at the words. Lethargic and eminently fatalists as are the Celestials, their fatalism and their easy resignation to all that is inevitable are not proof against the terrible epidemics that sweep across the country at times. Even small-pox, which makes its ravages in different quarters practically the year through, and being, therefore, no new thing to the natives, scares them wonderfully when it makes its appearance in any particular locality. But small-pox is not to be compared with the black death, not to be mentioned in the same breath with that hideous pneumonic plague, which decimates cities in a week, attacks both young and old, and once it has seized a victim, rarely spares his life. Besides the Tartar officer was right. Pneumonic plague had appeared in Manchuria, and was stalking through the land. Cases had even been reported in the adjacent provinces of Russia, while the disease was spreading in the direction of Pekin. Everywhere in the neighbourhood of the infected area distracted creatures were fleeing, carrying the disease with them, and spreading it across the land. What more natural thing in a country of amazingly simple and ignorant people than that the onset of this black death should here and there be put down to some outside influence? The foreign devil was a target at which to throw all the blame. And this Tartar under-officer, no doubt as bigoted and ignorant as his fellows, found in the coming of David and Dick a subtle scheme to import the plague to Hatsu.

'We have heard that there is great sickness,' said one of his men. 'We have been told that plague assails the people. It has even been reported that soldiers have been called to positions north and east of Pekin to hold the frightened people back.'

'True, comrade, true, every word of these reports. Our commander has himself been called away to receive orders with regard to the placing of the soldiers. But see how the foreign devils manage these things. They come to us in disguise. They enter our city with letters of introduction to his Excellency Twang Chun. With forged letters, you may be certain.'

The gaping mouths of his audience showed how the news affected them. Give the Tartar soldier his due, he is one of the best soldiers China possesses, but he is as ignorant and as bigoted as any of the people. Moreover, he is just as ready to run from the cry of plague as he is ready to discover in a European the cause of his misfortune. Growls of anger came from the men, disturbed, however, a moment later by a loud challenge from the sentry. He was calling for men to help him to shut the gates—for the hour for closing the city had arrived—and as he did so espied a figure creeping in through the archway. He brought the man to a stop with his bayonet within an inch of his breast.

'Move not,' he commanded, 'else will I plunge the blade home and send you to converse with your ancestors. Son of a dog, what do you here at this time?'

Another shout brought the Tartar officer running out with his men, while one carried the native lantern, a huge affair of oiled paper. They held it up close to the stranger's face, while the officer approached closely.