The Call of the East. Thurlow Fraser
Did the Chinese actually pretend to offer any resistance to the French?" inquired Carteret.
"There was no pretending. They offered resistance, and a very effectual one for a time," replied Gardenier. "You know, Beauchamp, the lie of the harbour?"
The consul nodded.
"The old corvette Villars was anchored in the inner harbour, opposite the south side of Palm Island. She pelted away with her guns and mitrailleuses at the new fort at a thousand-yard range. The little gunboat Lutin lay close in shore on the west side and hammered the old fortifications there. Admiral Lespès, in La Galissonnière, lay in the outer harbour and raked both sides with his long guns."
"I should think that he would be in little danger there," said one of the merchants. "The Chinese gunners couldn't hit a range of mountains, let alone a ship, at that range."
"That is just where you are mistaken. They put three holes into La Galissonnière just above water-line, almost as soon as the game commenced. If they didn't beat off the French to-day, it was not the fault of their gunners. It was because their works could not stand the French fire. The Chinese worked their guns till their forts were knocked to pieces."
"Did the French land any men?" inquired Boville.
"Yes," replied Gardenier. "When we left Keelung, a landing-party of marines had just hoisted the French flag on the ruined Chinese fort."
"Then Keelung is in the hands of the French?"
"Yes. That is if by Keelung you mean a strip of a few hundred feet wide around the harbour. But the hills all around that again are occupied by the Chinese."
"Little difference that will make," said Carteret. "The Celestials have had all they want. At the first sign of a French advance they'll run, and never stop running till they reach Taipeh."
"I'm not so sure about that," replied Gardenier, a trifle coldly. "In the first place, the French have no land forces with which to make an advance. In the second place, the Chinese are better fighters than you give them credit for, Mr. Carteret. All they need is a good leader, and I believe that they have such a man in Liu Ming-chuan."
"And in the third place," said Beauchamp, "the Keelung climate is enough to defeat the French if there were no Chinese. By the time their transports arrive the northeast monsoon will be about due. Then the Lord help them! One of the wettest spots on earth. Boville, what is the annual rainfall over there?"
"One hundred and fifty-eight inches on the average. One year it lacked only an inch and a half of the two hundred."
"One hundred and fifty-eight inches," repeated MacAllister. "That does not convey much meaning to my mind. How does it compare with some climates we do know? That of London, for example?"
"Ashamed to say that I don't know London's rainfall," said the consul. "All I remember is that it seemed to do little else but rain there when I was a boy. Boville? … Carteret? … You are Londoners. … What? Do none of you know? … Shocking ignorance!"
"I do not want to put forward my opinion on the climate of London in a company of Englishmen," said Sinclair; "but I believe the rainfall there is about twenty-five inches."
"Easy seeing that you have not lived in England," said Carteret, with the same contemptuous tone he had already used when introduced to Sinclair. "A hundred inches would be more like it."
"Dr. Sinclair is right," said Commander Gardenier, who had been consulting a tiny memorandum book. "No considerable part of the British Isles exceeds eighty inches, and London has twenty-five."
Miss MacAllister flashed a quick glance at Sinclair. There was admiration in it; admiration that he should know this simple scientific fact which those who had better opportunities did not know. She had noted this peculiarity in him before, his remarkable fund of accurate information on all manner of subjects.
Then her mind took a curious twist. What right had he to know the rainfall of London? What business had this colonial to know a fact about London which a company of Londoners did not know? It was another proof of his presumption. She'd take some of his self-confidence out of him. She'd teach him.
The conversation drifted on about the climate, the war, the probability of a bombardment at Tamsui, the prospects of an easy victory which most conceded to the French.
"I believe that you are rating the Chinese too low," said the consul, in reply to a number of expressions of such views. "From what I have seen of the new Imperial Commissioner, Liu Ming-chuan, he will give the French more than they bargained for. As Commander Gardenier says, leaders are what the Chinese need. When they get a few more men trained in Western ideas, they are going to surprise the world. What do you think, Mr. De Vaux? You have known them longer than any of us."
"'Pon my soul, Beauchamp, I believe you are right! … The Chinese are a smarter people than they get credit for. … 'Pon my honour, they are! … And they're honest, too. … The last time I was in America, a man I had business with in New York said that he did not know how I could stand living among those pig-tails, as he called them. … He wouldn't live among them for a hundred thousand a year. … It vexed me. … I told him that I'd rather do business with a good Chinese firm any time than with some Yankees. … 'Pon my soul, I would! … Do you know, that duffer cheated me the very next day!"
There was a burst of laughter at De Vaux's injured tone.
"It's a fact," he continued, his face and head growing redder and his voice higher at every sentence. "And to think of that scoundrel casting reflections on the Chinese! … Bless my soul! … It vexes me so! … By——! … I mean it's a thundering shame the way the Chinese have been treated by some white people."
"What Mr. De Vaux says is true enough," said the consul. "I am sorry Dr. MacKay is not here. He could give us more information about the preparations the Chinese have made than any one else. But I understand that he has gone over to the vicinity of Keelung to look after some of his converts who are in the danger zone. Is that not so, Dr. Sinclair?"
"Yes," replied Sinclair. "He could hardly wait for tiffin yesterday, he was in such a hurry to catch the first launch up river."
"I saw him landing from the launch at Twatutia," added one of the merchants. "He barely bade me the time of day, and set off on foot for Keelung at such a rate that the Chinese with him had to run to keep up. I never saw the like of him. I wonder that the heat does not kill him."
"It is perfectly marvellous the amount of work he goes through, no matter how exhausting the heat may be," said Mrs. Beauchamp. "No person need ever tell me again that missionaries take easy times."
"Dr. Sinclair, I'm so sorry! I do believe that I have all the wines here beside me, and your glasses are empty. Will you not allow me to pass some to you? Which shall it be, claret or sherry or port?"
It was Miss MacAllister, speaking in so clear a voice that it caught everybody's ear and attracted the notice of all to the fact that, while the wines had frequently circulated around the table, Sinclair's glasses had never been filled. A slight flush, scarcely noticeable under the tan, climbed into visibility above the line which separated the sunburn from the white of the broad forehead. The attention suddenly concentrated on him was evidently unwelcome. But it was with perfect courtesy and good-humour that he replied:
"No apologies are necessary, Miss MacAllister. To do without wine is no privation to me. My glasses are not empty because the wines have not been offered to me."
"Oh! Perhaps you are a teetotaller."
"If you wish to so describe me."
"Really! How interesting! I do not think that I ever met one before."
"Your own glasses have been filled, but, if I am not mistaken, they are yet untasted, Miss MacAllister."
"Oh, yes! That's all very well for a woman. But I mean a man. I am sure that I never before met a man who couldn't enjoy a glass of wine, except some ministers and very immature youths in Bands of Hope."
A laugh went round the table. Sinclair joined in it.