Next day at ten in the morning the Japanese entered the city, and with their entrance burst the bubble of Russian domination in Manchuria. Scattered parties of Russians fought on for several days in the neighbouring villages; but with Nogi astride of the main line of retreat and every northern road, the Russians were forced to abandon everything and take to the hills. Two days afterwards the Japanese had chased their enemy full thirty miles to the north; Kuropatkin's great army, broken, routed, had well-nigh ceased to be.
Jack is never likely to forget that terrible fortnight. During the first few days he witnessed nothing of the fighting; he heard the reverberations of the guns, and saw crowds of natives hastening from the villages in the line of the Japanese advance, bearing with them everything portable that could be saved from the impending ruin. At night, standing on the broken mud wall, he beheld in the far distance a dull glow in the sky that told of houses burning, and thought of the untold misery inflicted upon a peaceable and industrious people by the greed of rival governments. But as the tide of battle rolled northward, and the roar of the guns grew louder, other evidences of the terrific struggle came within his ken. Ever and anon a train would rumble northward along the line, with wagon-loads of wounded. The darkness of the nights was now illuminated with bursting star-shells, and the red flare of burning villages nearer at hand. One morning, in the twilight before dawn, he saw an immense column of smoke rise over the Russian settlement by the station. It was in flames. Venturing out with Hi Lo, he soon came upon stragglers from the army, and by and by upon a huge block of horse and foot and artillery, field-telegraph wagons, mess carts, ambulances—all in inextricable confusion, jammed in their frantic efforts to escape. Trains rolled along, crowded to the roofs of the carriages, even to the engine itself, with soldiers; carts lay overturned, broken, wheelless, on the roads and fields; the air was loaded with the acrid fumes from piles of blazing goods, clothing, and forage, burnt to prevent their falling into the hands of the conquerors.
The retreat from Liao-yang had been orderly and not uncheerful; the retreat from Moukden was an orgy of riot and misery. There was no order in the ranks: the officers made no efforts—made, they would have been in vain—to check the insubordination of their men. Some as they fled had looted the sutlers' carts and roamed at large, defenceless, intoxicated, singing wild songs, dropping to the ground, to be frozen stiff in a few minutes. Others tramped along, moody, taciturn, mad, going blindly they knew not whither, they knew not why. Here a horse's head could be seen above the crowd, its eyes bloodshot and haggard, its nostrils dilated. There a horse fell; the throng thickened around it; harsh voices were raised in imprecation; then the movement recommenced, and nothing was heard but the tramping of feet and the crunching of wheels. Wounded men dropped and froze in their blood; others staggered this way and that, having lost all power to govern their limbs; and still in the distance artillery boomed, flames crackled, and the smoke of burning homesteads rose into the sky.
Sick at heart, Jack returned to the village. That evening the Japanese entered it, bringing with them a number of Russian prisoners and wounded, these having been carefully tended by the Japanese ambulance corps. Jack lent what assistance he could in finding cottages where the more seriously injured could remain. "Strange," he thought, "that war, which brings out the worst in men, should bring out also all that is best."
CHAPTER XXI
Ah Lum at Bay
Schwab again Retreats—A Business Friend—Reinstated—A Little Light—Ah Lum Threatened—A Thousand Roubles Reward—The Lessening Circle—A Mountain Tiger—Mirage—Ah Lum's Lament—A Cossack Cloak
It was not merely curiosity that had held Jack within the area of fighting. He clung with a sort of superstition to the belief that his father's fate was inwoven with the fate of the Russian army. He had a conviction, perfectly illogical, that a victory for Japan would favour his quest. There was so much truth in this idea as that amid the disorders of a Russian retreat he might hope to pass undetected in his disguise. The Russians would be too busy to look closely into the bona-fides of a mere Chinaman, one of thousands who would be swept northwards on the tide. He could easily keep out of sight of the few who might recognize him.
He thus had a purely personal interest in the result of the battle. Convinced that the compradore must have remained with his brother in Harbin, he had resolved to go north and learn from the man's own lips the issue of his enquiries. When the victorious army had rolled by, he set off with Hi Lo in its wake.
One day, a few miles north of Tieling, he was riding slowly along, contrasting his present position with the different circumstances under which he had made the retreat from Liao-yang, with Mr. Schwab's precious tripod in his care, when, a little ahead of him, he caught sight of a solitary figure trudging wearily along. It needed but one glance at the broad back. The tired pedestrian was Schwab himself—and he was carrying the camera.