At the Fall of Port Arthur Part 37

"Sure an' it's meself is as foine as a fiddle," answered the Irishman, with a broad grin on his freckled face. "It's a great war, ain't it now?

Both soides is fightin' like a pair o' Kilkenny cats, so they are! An'

where is me ould friend, Captain Russell?"

"He was captured by Chunchuses."

"No!" came from both Stummer and Casey, and then they poured in a volley of questions which were bewildering. Gilbert answered them as best he could.

"Dot's der vorst ding vot I hear yet alretty!" said Carl Stummer, with a sad shake of his head. "I vish I got dem Chunchusers--or vot you call dem--here. I fix 'em, eh, Tan?"

Dan Casey nodded vigorously. "Sure an' we'd be after puttin' a ball through ivery mother's son of 'em, so we would! Poor Ben Russell! I loiked him loike a brother!" And the honest Irish sharp-shooter heaved a long sigh.

Both Casey and Stummer had been having easy times of it for several weeks, but now they were called upon to go forth with pick and shovel, to do their share of work in digging intrenchments. This was not so nice, but they went at the labor without a murmur.

"Sure an' we might as well git into practice," observed Casey, as he started in with vigor. "Whin the war's over an' we git back to the States, it may be ourselves as will be workin' fer the corporation in New York or ilsewhere!"

"Yah, udder puttin' town railroad dracks alretty in der Vest," answered Carl Stummer. "Dot is," he added, "of I ton't got money enough to puy a farm."

"'Tis a stock farm I'm wantin'," came from Casey. "Wid horses galore.

There's money for ye, Carl!" And he went to work with added vigor--as if he expected to turn up the stock farm from the soil beneath him.

To Gilbert, even though he occasionally saw Stummer and Casey, the days were very lonely. He missed Ben greatly, and each day wondered if he would ever see his old war chum again. Major Okopa saw this and did what he could to cheer up the young officer.

"He may turn up before you realize it," said the major. "I don't think he was killed."

"If he is alive, it is very strange that we do not hear from him."

Two days later came a batch of letters into camp, written, or rather painted, for the most part, on thin j.a.panese paper. Among the communications were two for Gilbert, one from Captain Ponsberry concerning the _Columbia_ and her cargo, and the other from a stranger in Pekin, China.

"Who can be writing to me from Pekin, China?" mused the young captain, and began to read the communication with interest. It was from a Chinese merchant, and ran in part as follows:

"You will be mystified to receive this from an utter stranger, but I deem it my duty, kind sir, to send this word to you.

"Know, then, that one Ken Gow, a servant of my family, was in Port Arthur up to sixteen days ago--first a servant in an American family there, and next a prisoner in the vilest prison man ever saw, guarded by dogs of Russians unworthy to be used as door mats. Ken Gow is a faithful man, the flower of all my help.

"It is needless to explain to you why my servant was thus ill-treated. But you must know that when in prison he met your great friend Captain Benjamin Russell, and it was the captain who saved Ken Gow from many hard blows from the other prisoners, who wanted not a Chinaman amongst them.

"Ken Gow was grateful, even as I am grateful, and he promised to get word to you of this matter if the Russians granted him his liberty. Finding no fault in my servant he was, after a time, liberated, and watching his chance, left Port Arthur and came home.

"Kind sir, he is grateful to Captain Russell and would do much for him if he could. Yet his most is to send this letter to you, telling you that Captain Russell is alive and held in a Port Arthur prison as a spy. One Russian hates him--his name, Captain Barusky,--and it would appear that this Russian is also your enemy, so beware of him.

"I can tell no more. Ken Gow is sick from his treatment at the hands of the Russian dogs. Accept this miserable a.s.surance of my eternal friends.h.i.+p, and esteem for one I know must be high and ill.u.s.trious."

"CHENG MO."

Gilbert read the letter several times and showed it to Major Okopa. It was written in true Chinese style, with a big Chinese seal attached, and was, beyond all doubt, genuine.

"I can't understand one thing," said the young captain. "How did Ben get to Port Arthur?"

"It may be that this Captain Barusky had him taken there, Captain Pennington."

"I thought Captain Barusky was at Mukden."

"The Russians have been taking in some troops at Port Arthur on the sly.

Despite Admiral Togo's efforts, some supply boats and transports have pa.s.sed his s.h.i.+ps."

"If Barusky is there he will do what he can to make Ben miserable. He is down on both of us--for he knows we are down on him and Ivan Snokoff."

"Do you think Snokoff could have anything to do with this?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Anything is possible. Snokoff would be glad to make trouble for Ben--since he helped me to make him settle up at Liao-Yang. Those Chunchuses tried to capture both of us."

The matter was talked over for half an hour, but brought forth no satisfaction. To Gilbert's mind, being held by the Russians as a spy was as bad as being in the hands of the Chinese brigands.

"I wish we could get into Port Arthur at once," he said, finally. "I shouldn't like anything better than to capture this Captain Barusky and liberate Ben."

"We are bound to get into the port sooner or later," answered Major Okopa. "They are bringing up more siege guns every day. If the Russians won't give up we'll batter the whole town down over their heads."

"Which will be a bad thing for Ben," rejoined Gilbert. "I don't want him killed in the attempt to rescue him."

CHAPTER XXIX

FROM ONE DIFFICULTY TO ANOTHER

"Where is this going to end?"

It was Ben who asked himself the question, as he walked up and down the narrow cell in which he had been confined in the prison at Port Arthur.

What had been written to Gilbert in the letter from Pekin had been substantially correct. Ben had aided Ken Gow in numerous ways, and for this the Chinaman had been extremely grateful and had promised to do all he could for the young captain should he manage to escape from the blockaded seaport. Then Ken Gow had disappeared one night, and that was the last Ben saw of him.

Three days later a guard entered the prison and announced that the prisoners were to be transferred to other quarters. With his hands bound behind him, Ben was marched forth through a side street of Port Arthur, where stood an old building which had formerly been used as a market.

Cells had been built in this structure, and into one of these he was thrust, the guard sarcastically telling him to make himself as comfortable as possible.

The young captain was sick in both body and mind and fast reaching that point where one becomes desperate and fit for any deed of daring. More than once he was tempted to throw himself on the guard in an endeavor to overpower the fellow and escape. But he realized that if caught at this he would be immediately shot down.

Day after day pa.s.sed, and from outside the prisoner heard the dull booming of cannon. Occasionally a sh.e.l.l would explode close to the prison, causing a wild yell of alarm and a general rush by those outside. There were flags over the prisons and over the hospitals, showing what manner of places they were, but, as said before, the j.a.panese were at a loss to see what they were firing at, so many shots and sh.e.l.ls went where they were not intended. These mishaps were what caused the report to circulate that the Mikado's men were not fighting according to the rules of modern warfare, but were doing their best to shatter the hospitals in which lay their own and the Russian wounded.

It was a cold, raw day, with a touch of snow in the air, and Ben felt one of his desperate moods coming over him. His hands and feet were free and he peered forth from the one narrow window that the cell contained.

All he could see beyond was a courtyard, surrounded by a stone wall.

"I wish I was out there--I'd get over that wall somehow!" he muttered to himself.

The cell window was not over fifteen or sixteen inches wide and twice that in height. The bars were of iron, but set in wooden frames but a few inches in thickness.

"A fellow might smash out those bars with the bench end," he thought.