Читать книгу Banzai! by Parabellum - Ferdinand Heinrich Grautoff - Страница 8

Here and there politics formed the subject of conversation; one lady in particular, the wife of a Baltimore merchant, sitting opposite the secretary of a small European legation who was on his way to Pekin to take up his duties there, plied him with questions and did her level best to get at the secrets of international politics. The secretary, who had no wonderful secrets to disclose, had recourse to the ordinary political topics of the day, and entertained his fair listener with a discussion of the problems that would arise in case of hostilities between America and Japan. "Of course," he declared, vaunting his diplomatic knowledge, "in case of war the Japanese would first surprise Manila and try to effect a landing, and in this they would very likely be successful. It is true that Manila with her strong defenses is pretty well protected against a sudden raid, and the Japanese gunners would have no easy task in an encounter with the American coast batteries. Even though Manila may not turn out to be a second Port Arthur, the Americans should experience no difficulty in repelling all Japanese attacks for at least six months; meanwhile America could send reinforcements to Manila under the protection of her fleet, and then there would probably be a decisive battle somewhere in the Malayan archipelago between the Japanese and American fleets, the results of which——"

"I thought," interrupted a wealthy young lady from Chicago, "I thought we had some ships in the Philippines." The diplomat waved his hand deprecatingly, and smiled knowingly at this interruption. He was master of the situation and well qualified to cast the horoscope of the future—and so he was left in possession of the field.

The lady opposite him was, however, not yet satisfied; with the new wisdom just obtained she now besieged the German major sitting beside her, who was on his way to Kiao-chau via San Francisco. He had not been paying much attention to the conversation, but the subject broached to him for discussion was such a familiar one, that he was at once posted when his neighbor asked him his opinion as to the outcome of such a war.

Nevertheless it was an awkward question, and the German, out of consideration for his environment on board the American steamer, did not allow himself to be drawn out of his usual reserve. He simply inquired what basis they had for the supposition that, in case of war, Japan would occupy herself exclusively with the Philippines.

The secretary of legation had gradually descended from the clouds of diplomatic self-conceit to the level of the ordinary mortal and, overhearing the major's question through the confusion of voices and clatter of plates, shook his head disapprovingly and asked the major: "Don't you think it's likely that Japan will try first of all to get possession of the prize she has been longing for ever since the Peace of Paris?"

"I know as little as anyone else not in diplomatic circles what the plans and hopes of the Japanese Government are, but I do think there is not the slightest prospect of an outbreak of hostilities in the near future; there is, accordingly, not much sense in trying to imagine what might happen in case of a war," answered the German coolly.

"There are only two possibilities," said the English merchant from Shanghai, one of the chief stockholders of the line, who sat next to the captain. "According to my experience"—and here he paused in order to draw the attention of his listeners to this experience—"according to my experience," he repeated, "there are only two possibilities. Japan is overpeopled and is compelled to send her surplus population out of the country. The Manchuria experiment turned cut to be a failure, for the teeming Chinese population leaves no room now for more Japanese emigrants and small tradesmen than there were before the war with Russia; besides, there was no capital at hand for large enterprises. Japan requires a strong foothold for her emigrants where"—and here he threw an encouraging glance at the captain—"she can keep her people together economically and politically, as in Hawaii. The emigration to the States has for years been severely restricted by law."

"And at the same time they are pouring into our country in droves by way of the Mexican frontier," mumbled the American colonel, who was on his way back to his post, from his seat beside the captain.

"That leaves only the islands of the Pacific, the Philippines, and perhaps Australia," continued the Shanghai merchant undisturbed. "In any such endeavors Japan would of course have to reckon with the States and with England. The other possibility, that of providing employment and support for the ever-increasing population within the borders of their own country, would be to organize large Japanese manufacturing interests. Many efforts have already been made in this direction, but, owing to the enormous sums swallowed up by the army and navy, the requisite capital seems to be lacking."

"In my opinion," interposed the captain at this juncture, "there is a third possibility—namely, to render additional land available for the cultivation of crops. As you are all no doubt aware, not more than one third of Japan is under cultivation; the second third, consisting of stone deserts among the mountains, must of necessity be excluded, but the remaining third, properly cultivated, would provide a livelihood for millions of Japanese peasants. But right here we encounter a peculiar Japanese trait; they are dead set on the growth of rice, and where, in the higher districts, no rice will grow, they refuse to engage in agriculture altogether and prefer to leave the land idle. If they would grow wheat, corn, and grass in such sections, Japan would not only become independent of other countries with respect to her importation of provisions, but, as I said before, it would also provide for the settlement of millions of Japanese peasants; and, furthermore, we should then get some decent bread to eat in Japan."

This conception of the Japanese problem seemed to open new vistas to the secretary of legation. He listened attentively to the captain's words and threw inquiring glances toward the Shanghai merchant. The latter, however, was completely absorbed in the dissection of a fish, whose numerous bones continually presented fresh anatomical riddles. In his stead the thread of the conversation was taken up by Dr. Morris, of Brighton, an unusually cadaverous-looking individual, who sometimes maintained absolute silence for days at a time, and who was supposed to possess Japanese bronzes of untold value and to be on his way to Hokkaido to complete his collection.

"You must not believe everything you see in the papers," he said. "If the Japanese were only better farmers, nobody in Japan need go hungry; there is no question of her being overpeopled, and this mania for emigration is nothing but a disease, a fashion, of which the government at Tokio, to be sure, makes very good use for political purposes. Whoever speaks in all seriousness of Japan's being overpeopled is merely quoting newspaper editorials, and is not acquainted with the conditions of the country."

Dr. Morris had scarcely said as much as this during the whole of his two weeks' stay on board the Tacoma. It is true that he had got to know Japan very thoroughly during his many years' sojourn in the interior in search of old bronzes, and he knew what he was talking about. His views, however, were not in accord with those current at the moment, and consequently, although his words were listened to attentively, they did not produce much effect.

The conversation continued along the same lines, and the possibility of a war again came up for discussion. The German officer was the only one to whom they could put military questions, and it was no light task for him to find satisfactory answers. He could only repeat again and again that such a war would offer such endless possibilities of attack and defense, that it was absolutely impossible to forecast the probable course of events. The Shanghai merchant conversed with the captain in a low tone of voice about the system of Japanese spies in America, and related a few anecdotes of his experiences in China in this connection.

"But one can distinguish between a Jap and a Chinaman at a glance," interrupted the son of a New York multi-millionaire sitting opposite him. "I could never understand why the Japanese spies are so overrated."

"If you can tell one from the other, you are more observant than the ordinary mortal," remarked the Englishman dryly. "I can't for one, and if you'll look me up in Shanghai, I'll give myself the pleasure of putting you to the test. I'll invite a party of Chinamen and ask you to pick out from among them a Japanese naval officer who has been in Shanghai for a year and a half on a secret, I had better say, a perfectly open mission."

"You'll lose your bet," said the captain to the New Yorker, "for I've lost a similar wager under the same circumstances."

"But the Japanese don't wear pigtails," said the New Yorker, somewhat abashed.

"Those Japanese do wear pigtails," said the Englishman with a grin.

"What's up?" said the captain, looking involuntarily towards the entrance to the dining-saloon. "What's up? We're only going at half speed."

The dull throbbing of the engine had indeed stopped, and any one who noticed the vibration of the ship could tell that the propeller was revolving only slightly.

The captain got up quietly to go on deck, but as he was making his way out between the long rows of chairs, he met one of the crew, who whispered to him that the first mate begged him to come on the bridge.

"We're not moving," said some one near the center of the table. "We can't have arrived this soon."

"Perhaps we have met a disabled ship," said a young French girl; "that would be awfully interesting."

The captain remained away, while the dinner continued to be served. Suddenly all conversation was stopped by the dull howl of the steam whistle, and when two more calls followed the first, an old globe trotter thought he had discovered the reason for the ship's slowing down, and declared with certainty: "This is the third time on my way to Japan that we have run into a fog just before entering the harbor; the last time it made us a day and a half late. I tell you it was no joke to sit in that gray mist with nothing to do but wait for the fog to lift——" and then he narrated a few anecdotes about that particular voyage, which at once introduced the subject of fog at his table, a subject that was greedily pounced upon by all. London fog and other fogs were discussed, and no one noticed that the ship had come to a full stop and was gradually beginning to pitch heavily, a motion that soon had the effect of causing several of the ladies to abandon the conversation and play nervously with their coffee-spoons, as the nightmare of seasickness forced itself every moment more disagreeably on their memories.

A few of the men got up and went on deck. A merchant from San Francisco came down and told his wife that a strange ship not far from the Tacoma had its searchlights turned on her. No reason for this extraordinary proceeding could be given, as the officers seemed to know as little about it as the passengers.

The fourth officer, whose place was at the head of one of the long tables, now appeared in the dining-saloon, and was at once besieged with questions from all sides. In a loud voice he announced that the captain wished him to say that there was no cause for alarm. A strange ship had its searchlights turned on the Tacoma, probably a man-of-war that had some communication to make. The captain begged the passengers not to allow themselves to be disturbed in their dinner. The next course was served immediately afterwards, the reason for the interruption was soon forgotten, and conversation continued as before.

"But we're not moving yet," said a young woman about ten minutes later to her husband, with whom she was taking a honeymoon trip round the world, "we're not moving yet."

The fourth officer gave an evasive answer in order to reassure his neighbor, but, as a matter of fact, the ship had not yet got under way again. To complicate the situation, another member of the crew came in at this moment and whispered something to the officer, who at once hurried on deck.

It was a positive relief to him to escape from the smell of food and the loud voices into the fresh air. It seemed like another world on deck. The stars twinkled in the silent sky, and the soft night air refreshed the nerves that had been exhausted by the heat of the day. The fourth officer mounted quickly to the bridge and reported to the captain.

The latter gave him the following brief order: "Mr. Warren, I shall ask you to see that the passengers are not unnecessarily alarmed; let the band play a few pieces, and see that the dinner proceeds quietly. Make a short speech in my stead, tell the passengers what a pleasant time we have all had on this voyage, and say a few words of farewell to them for me. We've been signaled by a Japanese warship," he continued, "and asked to stop and wait for a Japanese boat. I haven't the slightest idea what the fellows want, but we must obey orders; the matter will no doubt be settled in a few minutes as soon as the boat has arrived."

The officer disappeared, and the captain, standing by the port yardarm on the bridge, waited anxiously for the cutter which was approaching at full speed. The gangway had already been lowered. The cutter, after describing a sharp curve, came alongside, and two marines armed with rifles immediately jumped on the gangway.

"Halloo," said the captain, "a double guard! I wonder what that means?"

The Japanese officer got out of the cutter and came up the gangway, followed by four more soldiers, two of whom were posted at the upper entrance to the gangway. The other two followed the officer to the bridge. A seventh man got out of the boat and carried a square box on the bridge, while finally two soldiers brought a long heavy object up the gangway and set it down against the wall of the cabin in the stern.

The Japanese officer ordered the two marines to take up their stand at the foot of the steps leading to the bridge, and with a wave of his hand ordered the third to station himself with his square box at the port railing. At the same time he gave him an order in Japanese, and the rattling noise which followed made it clear that the apparatus was a lantern which was signaling across to the man-of-war.

"This is carrying the joke a little too far. What does it all mean?" cried the captain of the Tacoma, starting to pull the man with the lantern back from the railing. But the Japanese officer laid his hand firmly on his right arm and said in a decisive tone: "Captain, in the name of the Japanese Government I declare the American steamer Tacoma a lawful prize and her whole crew prisoners of war."

The captain shook off the grasp of the Japanese, and stepping back a pace shouted: "You must be crazy; we have nothing to do with the Japanese naval maneuvers, and I shall have to ask you not to carry your maneuver game too far. If you must have naval maneuvers, please practice on your own merchant vessels and leave neutral ships alone."

The Japanese saluted and said: "I am very sorry, captain, to have to correct your impression that this is part of our maneuvers. Japan is at war with the United States of America, and every merchantman flying the American flag is from now on a lawful prize."

The captain, a strapping fellow, seized the little Japanese, and pushed him toward the railing, evidently with the intention of throwing the impertinent fellow overboard. But in the same instant he noticed two Japanese rifles pointed at him, whereupon he let his arms drop with an oath and stared at the two Japanese marines in utter astonishment. The lantern signal continued to rattle behind him, and suddenly the pale blue searchlight from the man-of-war was thrown on the bridge of the Tacoma, lighting up the strange scene as if by moonlight. At the same time the shot from a gun boomed across the quiet surface of the water. Things really seemed to be getting serious.

From below, through the open skylights of the dining-saloon came the cheers of the passengers for the captain at the close of the fourth officer's speech, and the band at once struck up the "Star Spangled Banner." Everybody seemed to be cheerful and happy in the dining-saloon, and one and all seemed to have forgotten that the Tacoma was not moving.

And while from below the inspiring strains of the "Star Spangled Banner" passed out into the night, twenty Japanese marines came alongside in a second cutter and, climbing up the gangway, occupied all the entrances leading from below to the deck—a double guard with loaded guns being stationed at each door.

"I must ask you," said the Japanese officer to the captain, "to continue to direct the ship's course under my supervision. You will take the Tacoma, according to your original plans, into the harbor of Yokohama; there the passengers will leave the ship, without any explanations being offered, and you and the crew will be prisoners of the Japanese Government. The prize-court will decide what is to be done with your cargo. The baggage of the passengers, the captain, and the crew will, of course, remain in their possession. There are now twenty of our marines on board the Tacoma, but in case you should imagine that they would be unable to command the situation in the event of any resistance being offered by you or your crew, I consider it advisable to inform you that for the last ten minutes there has been a powerful bomb in the stern of the Tacoma, guarded by two men, who have orders to turn on the current and blow up your ship at the first signs of serious resistance. It is entirely to the advantage of the passengers in your care to bow to the inevitable and avoid all insubordination—à la guerre comme à la guerre."

The Japanese saluted and continued: "You will remain in command on the bridge for the next four hours, when you will be relieved by the first mate. Meanwhile the latter can acquaint the passengers with the altered circumstances." And, waving his hand toward the first mate, who had listened in silent rage, he added: "Please, sir!"

The officer addressed looked inquiringly across to the captain, who hesitated a moment and then said in suppressed emotion: "Hardy, go down and tell the passengers that the Tacoma, through an unheard-of, treacherous surprise, has fallen into the hands of a Japanese cruiser, but that the passengers, on whose account we are obliged to submit to this treatment, need not be startled, for they and all their possessions will be landed safely at Yokohama to-morrow morning."

Hardy's soles seemed positively to stick to the steps as he went down, and he was almost overcome by the warm air at the entrance to the dining-saloon, where the noise of boisterous laughter and lively conversation greeted him.

"Halloo, when are we going on?" he was asked from all sides.

Mr. Hardy shook his head silently and went to the captain's place.

"We must drink your health," called several, holding their glasses towards him. "Where's the captain?"

Hardy was silent, but remained standing and the words seemed to choke him.

"Be quiet! Listen! Mr. Hardy is going to speak——"

"It's high time we heard something from the captain," called out a stout German brewer from Milwaukee over the heads of the others. "Three cheers for Mr. Hardy!" came from one corner of the room. "Three cheers for Mr. Hardy!" shouted the passengers on the other side, and all joined in the chorus: "For he is a jolly good fellow." "Do let Mr. Hardy speak," said the Secretary of Legation, turning to the passengers reprovingly.

"Silence!" came from the other side. The hum of voices ceased gradually and silence ensued.

"First give Mr. Hardy something to drink!" said some one, while another passenger laughed out loud.

Hardy wiped the perspiration from his brow with the captain's napkin, which the latter had left on his plate.

"Shocking!" said an English lady quite distinctly; "seamen haven't any manners."

Hardy had not yet found words, but finally began in a low, stammering voice: "The captain wishes me to tell you that the Tacoma has just been captured by a Japanese cruiser. The United States of America are said to be at war with Japan. There is a Japanese guard on board, which has occupied all the companionways. The captain requests the passengers to submit quietly to the inevitable. You will all be landed safely at Yokohama early to-morrow and—" Hardy tried to continue, but the words would not come and he sank back exhausted into his chair.

"Three cheers for the captain!" came the ringing shout from one of the end tables, to be repeated in different parts of the room. The German brewer shook with laughter and exclaimed: "That's a splendid joke of the captain's; he ought to have a medal for it."

"Stop your nonsense," said some one to the brewer.

"No, but really, that's a famous joke," persisted the latter. "I've never enjoyed myself so much on a trip before."

"Be quiet, man; it's a serious matter."

"Ha! ha! You've been taken in, too, have you?" was the answer, accompanied by a roar of laughter.

An American jumped up, crying: "I'm going to get my revolver; I guess we can handle those chaps," and several others joined in with "Yes, yes, we'll get our revolvers and chuck the yellow monkeys overboard!"

At this point the German major jumped up from his seat and called out to the excited company in a sharp tone of command: "Really, gentlemen, the affair is serious; it's not a joke, as some of you gentlemen seem to think; you may take my word for it that it is no laughing matter."

Hardy still sat silent in his chair. The Englishman from Shanghai overwhelmed him with questions and even the Secretary of Legation emerged from his diplomatic reserve.

The six men who had gone to get their revolvers now returned to the dining-saloon with their spirits considerably damped, and one of them called out: "It's not a joke at all; the Japanese are stationed up there with loaded rifles."

Some of the ladies screamed hysterically and asked complete strangers to take them to their cabins. All of the passengers had jumped up from their chairs, and a number were busily engaged looking after those ladies who had shown sufficient discretion to withdraw at once from the general excitement by the simple expedient of fainting. In the meantime Hardy had regained control of himself and of the situation, and standing behind his chair as though he were on the captain's bridge declared simply and decisively: "On the captain's behalf I must beg the passengers not to attempt any resistance. Your life and safety are guaranteed by the word of the captain and the bearing of our crew, who have also been forced to submit to the inevitable. I beg you all to remain here and to await the further orders of the captain. There is no danger so long as no resistance is offered; we are in the hands of the Japanese navy, and must accustom ourselves to the altered circumstances."

It was long after midnight before all grew quiet on board the Tacoma; the passengers were busy packing their trunks, and it was quite late before the cabin lights were extinguished on both sides of the ship, which continued her voyage quietly and majestically in the direction of Yokohama. The deck, generally a scene of cheerful life and gaiety until a late hour, was empty, and only the subdued steps of the Japanese marines echoed through the still night.

Twice more the searchlights were thrown on the Tacoma, but a clattering answer from the signal lantern at once conveyed the information that all was in order, whereupon the glaring ball of light disappeared silently, and there was nothing on the whole expanse of dark water to indicate that invisible eyes were on the lookout for every ship whose keel was ploughing the deep.

The Tacoma arrived at Yokohama the next morning, the passengers were sent ashore, and the steamer herself was added as an auxiliary cruiser to the Japanese fleet.