Brown of Moukden: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War

by Herbert Strang

"Bringing snow as often as not. A snow-storm would spoil it all."

Wang Shih's face fell; he looked so much distressed that Jack laughed.

"I was only imagining the worst, Mr. Wang. The sky is clear and the air as dry as a bone. Barring an accident, or some very sudden and unlikely change in the weather, there will be a pretty bonfire to-morrow night."

"Shall I tell the men to-night, sir?"

"On no account. Let them sleep. The place is carefully watched, of course?"

"Yes. Six men are on duty for two hours at a time; the watches are carefully arranged."

"That's all right, then. Now I'm pretty tired; this k'ang is very warm and cosy, and if you don't mind I'll coil myself up on it and go to sleep. Don't wake me unless anything happens."

Jack slept like a top till ten next morning. It was bright and clear, and he was delighted to find that the wind had increased in force. Wang Shih had been self-restrained enough to withhold the details of Jack's plan from his men, curious as they were to learn what had brought the Englishman into their midst at such risk to himself. They had merely been told that there was a prospect of escape. At noon the three shots arranged as a signal were fired by Wang Shih himself. The Russians took no notice of them. Hidden by the kowliang they were content to wait, knowing that the water supply must ere long fail. In the afternoon the men were informed of the scheme and given their instructions. They became voluble as they discussed the plan among themselves. There is a bed-rock of stoicism in the Chinese character; these brigands were not given to a facile display of emotion; they showed little surprise, little pleasure, but talked over the approaching event almost dispassionately, as if it had been an academic problem. They prepared material for blindfolding the horses, and rags to steep in the last inch of turbid water in the tank; then the most of them settled down to beguile the remaining hours with fan-tan.

Jack could not achieve such composure of mind. He gave no outward sign of his feelings; but as the hours passed and the time drew near for the execution of his plan he began to feel restless and impatient. He was amused at himself, remembering how his father had been wont to poke fun at him for this very characteristic. "It's only in the Arabian Nights that an acorn becomes an oak in a moment," Mr. Brown once said. But though he could smile at himself he did not become less impatient as the day wore on. As the sun crept round towards the west, and sank over the purple hills, he looked anxiously from a secure corner of the wall towards the spot whence he expected the flames to spring. The twilight thickened; there was no sign. All at once he thought he saw an object moving down the opposite hillside. Surely the guide could not be so arrantly stupid as to approach in full view of the camp! In a few moments Jack's anxiety was relieved, and at the same time increased, when he found that the moving object was a Cossack slowly riding towards the farm. He was a messenger, perhaps; probably his approach had delayed the execution of the scheme; Jack could only hope that this would not be frustrated entirely. The rider came nearer and nearer; he might discover the man and the boy lurking in the long grass, for he was approaching the very spot that Jack had pointed out as an excellent place for the first match to be struck. An intervening hillock now hid the Cossack from view; Jack waited; it was growing darker; would the expected flame never spring up? The minutes passed, lingeringly; all was quiet; nothing could be heard but the rustle and clash of the grass and stalks as the wind struck their tops together.

Suddenly, from a spot somewhat to the right of the place where the Cossack had disappeared, a thin spiral of smoke shot up into the indigo sky. Almost simultaneously another appeared, far to the left; in the dark they could scarcely be detected except by eyes so intently looking for them as Jack's. They grew in volume; other spirals rose between them; fanned by the steady wind they swelled into a bank of smoke, through which Jack's anxious gaze now discerned tongues of flame.