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 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY*^ 
 
 SAN 
 
 THE BEATJKOY
 
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 YELLOW AND WHITE
 
 - LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN 01 EGO 
 
 Copyrighted in the United States 
 All rights reserved
 
 
 Yellow and White 
 
 BY 
 
 W. Carlton Dawe 
 
 London : John Lane, Vigo St. 
 Boston: Roberts Bros., 1895
 
 Edinburgh : T. and A, CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 The love of the white for the yellow. 
 
 The yellow for white; 
 Where music and laughter make mellow 
 
 The long Eastern night; 
 Where, rid of convention, a fellow 
 
 Does everything right. 
 
 The love of the brown for the white, 
 
 The white for the brown; 
 Eyes lazy, or languidly bright, 
 
 That sparkle or frown ; 
 Soft hours that are passed in delight, 
 
 The moon looking down. 
 
 The love of the woman for man, 
 
 Sad love that shall mar. 
 Of woman, man's glory and ban, 
 
 For such women are, 
 Though they dwell 'neath the skies of Japan, 
 
 The Westernmost star /
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE, . 
 
 FAN-TAN, 
 
 COOLIES, 
 
 OSHIMA, 
 
 SADA, 
 
 AMOK, 
 
 THE CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT,, 
 KITSUNE,
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 WE were leaning on the rail watching the fast- 
 receding land as the ship slipped through the 
 Ly-ee-moon Pass on her journey to the north. 
 Already the town of Hong Kong, or, to be 
 more correct, the town of Victoria, was growing 
 indistinct, and when we rounded the promontory 
 near the sugar factory, nothing was seen of the 
 island but the top of the Peak. 
 
 Gresham fixed his eyes on this with a look 
 of such singular intensity that, absent-minded 
 as I usually was, I could not fail to per- 
 ceive it. 
 
 'What's the matter, old chap?' I asked. 
 ' You look as though you were leaving every- 
 thing you love.' 
 
 He laughed curiously, but I thought his 
 mouth quivered even as he laughed. 
 
 ' It might be almost as bad as that'
 
 2 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ' And yet you were sick enough of the place 
 a week ago.' 
 
 ' True ; but I hadn't seen her then.' 
 
 ' Her ! ' 
 
 What fair colonist had ensnared the heart 
 of the redoubtable Gresham, and without my 
 knowledge? It seemed to me that I had been 
 everywhere with him, and yet I could recollect 
 no occasion on which he paid particular atten- 
 tion to any too attractive damsel. Indeed, 
 I had begun to think of him as one in whom 
 the hope of love had long since died, or as one 
 who had suffered in some way through women, 
 and had eschewed the sex in consequence. 
 That woman would be the loser I had not the 
 slightest doubt ; for Gresham with his large 
 heart and large limbs, his handsome, melan- 
 choly face, was just the sort of fellow to set a 
 woman's breast throbbing. 
 
 My surprise was therefore very real when I 
 heard this pronounced misogynist make such a 
 startling admission. I looked up at him in- 
 credulously. 
 
 ' It 's a fact,' he repeated. ' I hadn't seen her 
 then.' 
 
 'Who was she, Gresham?' He did not
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 3 
 
 answer, and I, watching him narrowly, saw the 
 embarrassment shoot athwart his face. ' Is it a 
 secret ? ' 
 
 ' No,' he answered hesitatingly. ' Why should 
 it be ? ' 
 
 Not knowing, I could not say, though I felt 
 rather anxious to hear of the woman who had 
 succeeded in casting such a glamour over him. 
 I also should like to have seen her, rare bird 
 that she must have been. 
 
 With a slight involuntary movement he 
 tossed his half-burnt cigar into the sea, while 
 for a moment or two his eyes seemed to linger 
 longingly on the Peak. Then, deliberately turn- 
 ing his back upon it, he faced me, and without 
 more ado plunged into the following story : 
 
 ' She must have been quite four inches taller 
 than the ordinary Chinese woman, which, as 
 you may imagine, was sufficient to prevent her 
 passing in a crowd ; but when I looked closer 
 into her and saw that her face was almost as 
 fair as a European's, that her hair was of a 
 light brown colour, and that her eyes, though 
 suggestive of the slant, were languorous and 
 blue, you may possibly conceive no little of the 
 astonishment with which I was filled. Who was
 
 4 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 she, what was she, how did she come to be in 
 Quong's house? These were a few of the 
 questions I asked myself as I followed her up 
 the greasy stairs, and I should have gone still 
 further to solve the mystery had not my host, 
 who had come rushing after me, here touched 
 me on the arm. 
 
 ' " Skoosey me," he said suggestively ; " that 
 belong plivate loom." 
 
 ' " Who is she, Quong ? " 
 
 ' " My wifee." 
 
 ' " Go on ! " 
 
 ' " Tlue. She all the same belong me. She 
 Missee Quong." 
 
 ' " Number one ? " 
 
 ' " Oh, yes," deprecatingly. 
 
 ' " How many piecey wife you have got ? " 
 
 ' " One, two, thlee," he counted on his fingers, 
 the long nails of which looked yellow and horny. 
 "This one belong half-Englishy woman. She 
 number one." 
 
 ' " Why didn't you introduce me ? " 
 
 ' He looked very knowing as he answered, 
 " She all the same belong China woman. China 
 woman welly partic'lar. China woman no can 
 pidgin to Englishyman."
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 5 
 
 ' " You beggar, you 're afraid," I said. 
 
 ' He grinned unpleasantly, his little eyes 
 crawling all over me like a pair of black spiders. 
 
 ' " Muchee same ting," he answered non- 
 chalantly. " Englishyman he no welly good 
 behave. He led-hot debbil for girlee." 
 
 'With that he led the way down into the 
 shop again, in a highly ornamental room at 
 the back of which was laid our dinner. Quong, 
 as you know, can do the thing in grand style 
 when he likes, and though at one time I 
 thought he was a trifle annoyed at my undis- 
 guised admiration of " Number One," he soon 
 righted himself, and the dinner passed off 
 successfully. Seeing that he had but a poor 
 appreciation of domestic chaff I wisely dropped 
 the subject, nor during the whole of the meal 
 did I again revert to the women-folk above. 
 But I will not go so far as to say that I did 
 not think of them, or, at least, one of them. 
 Those blue eyes of hers danced in the wine 
 bubbles as I raised the glass to my lips. My 
 mind was full of wonder, full of strange con- 
 jecture. As I looked at Quong I felt a mad 
 desire to strangle him. What right had this 
 distended Chinese pig to have in his keeping
 
 6 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 such a heavenly creature ? His black slanting 
 eyes, full of horrible cunning and satisfaction, 
 his fat yellow face, his massive flabby throat 
 everything about the man seemed intensi- 
 fied and aggressive to me that night. I 
 only needed the opportunity to do something 
 desperate. I might even have been momentarily 
 satisfied with one good punch at that pro- 
 digious stomach. 
 
 ' I guessed her history easily enough. The 
 offspring of a European and a native woman, 
 she had been reared by the mother in ways 
 Chinese, so that in thought and habit she was, 
 no doubt, to all intents and purposes, a China 
 woman. And yet I doubted if the Chinese 
 blood could wholly absorb the European, 
 though the latter had not been strong enough 
 to resist the overtures of the wealthy merchant 
 Quong. Do you know, I fancied I could even 
 see the love-making of that estimable creature ; 
 the glow of the beady black eyes as they looked 
 into the pale sweet face of the girl. I almost 
 hated him for the exultation he must have felt 
 over his victory. 
 
 ' But in the meantime our dinner was duly 
 finished, and after we had each smoked a cigar
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 7 
 
 and drunk a whisky and soda, Quong began to 
 nod in his chair, an unmistakable hint that I 
 had stayed long enough. And yet I was loth 
 to go, for I did not wish to quit the house 
 without seeing or speaking to the girl. But 
 how was I to gain my wish, how accomplish 
 my purpose ? I thought it may only have 
 been vanity, but it urged me on that when I 
 had looked into the girl's eyes she returned my 
 look of amazement with one of equal intensity ; 
 nay, that by her manner she seemed to invite 
 me forward. I candidly admit that the most 
 singular sensation I had ever experienced took 
 possession of me, and that my whole frame 
 shook in a manner that was as unusual as it 
 was alarming. There was something fascinating, 
 incongruous in this half-breed She was a 
 bewitching novelty, a new sensation. There 
 was also a spice of the devil in it which suited 
 well my humour. 
 
 ' At last I sprang to my feet, for it was getting 
 painfully evident that my host would not be 
 able to keep his eyes open much longer. I 
 would not hear of him moving, of seeing me to 
 the door, but with a hurried handshake left him. 
 There was nothing for it but to go, so out
 
 8 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 through the shop I passed, out into the narrow 
 street. But before I had taken a dozen paces I 
 felt a light touch on my arm. Turning suddenly 
 round, I beheld by my side a little slop of a 
 Chinese girl. 
 
 '"Well," I asked, " what do you want?" 
 ' She raised her finger to her lips, and then 
 pointed to the upper windows of Ouong's 
 house. Following the direction of her hand, I 
 thought I saw, a couple of stories up, a human 
 head ; but the light from an adjacent lamp was 
 so feeble that it failed utterly to pierce the 
 surrounding darkness. Indeed the figure, or 
 whatever it was, would not have been noticed 
 had no attention been drawn to it. But as I 
 watched I saw a signal waved probably a 
 handkerchief of some sort. The girl immedi- 
 ately drew me deeper into the shadow of the 
 houses. When I again looked up the figure 
 had disappeared. 
 
 ' " What does all this mean ? " I asked, though 
 I need scarcely have put the question. " Who 
 is that up at the window ? " 
 
 ' " She allee same belong number one." 
 ' My heart gave a sudden jump, one quick 
 strange throb, then beat with a steady rhythm.
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 9 
 
 I was now fully alive to the significance of the 
 adventure, and eager to begin it. But though 
 I questioned her impatiently, the girl preserved 
 the stolid, stupid look of her people when they 
 have no wish to be communicative. A dozen 
 times I was on the point of breaking from her, 
 now in disgust at the delay, and now eager to 
 probe this mystery for myself; but whenever 
 I made any such movements my celestial 
 guardian clutched me by the arm, and pointed 
 up to the window from which I had seen the 
 signal waved. 
 
 ' How long I stood there I have not the 
 remotest idea. It may only have been a few 
 minutes, though it seemed to me more like an 
 hour. I know I was getting unutterably weary 
 of it all, and was beginning to think of other 
 things, when the little girl beside me gave a 
 start. Instinctively my eyes went up to the 
 window, and I saw that the signal was being 
 waved again. The girl immediately seized me 
 by the hand, and led me across the road to 
 Quong's house. Stopping before the side door, 
 she took one quick look up and down the street, 
 then softly opened the door and entered, beckon- 
 ing me to follow.
 
 io YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ' With stealthy steps we began our ascent of 
 the stairs, reaching the first landing in safety. 
 Here my guide pressed my arm for me to 
 remain still, and for quite a minute we stood 
 listening in the darkness. Then overhead a 
 feeble light was seen to flicker on the wall, 
 showing up in a dim, uncanny sort of way the 
 grotesquely-carved stairs and the fantastic figure 
 of a woman at the head of them. The little 
 girl pointed upwards and nodded, and without 
 further hesitation I began to climb alone. 
 
 ' On the landing above she was waiting for 
 me, looking unnaturally beautiful in the dim 
 light. A white silk robe clung to her slender 
 figure ; her hair was down her back, as our 
 women wear it. One warm little hand she 
 slipped into mine, where it nestled lovingly. . . . 
 
 ' It may have been my fancy, but glancing up 
 at the windows as I left the house, I thought 
 I saw a face suddenly withdrawn from the one 
 I now knew so well. It gave me rather a shock 
 at the time, a host of unpleasant thoughts 
 sweeping through me. Then I passed on, 
 laughing at my fears. 
 
 ' I, however, paid Quong the usual visit that 
 afternoon, and the liquor and cigars were
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 11 
 
 brought out as before. I looked in vain for 
 some sign by which I might read that wily 
 one's mind, but sign there was none. His 
 smug, oily face looked oilier than ever, and he 
 pulled at his cigar with a quite unusual enjoy- 
 ment. Occasionally I caught his little black 
 eyes wandering over me with an almost sinister 
 earnestness, but as those eyes of his were 
 by nature unpleasant, I cannot say his looks 
 troubled me much. As I rose to go I felt sure 
 that the fascinating Quong knew nothing of 
 what had happened. 
 
 'At the appointed time that night, for she 
 had graciously granted me another meeting, I 
 took up my position opposite Quong's house, 
 which position I had not occupied many 
 moments before I was joined by my little 
 guide of the previous night. She spoke no 
 word, question her as I would, but kept her 
 eyes fixed on the window above. Presently 
 it opened, an arm protruded, the signal was 
 waved twice, and then withdrawn. The girl 
 caught me by the hand, and I felt her little 
 fingers tremble. 
 
 ' Up the dark stairs we went, reaching the 
 first landing as before. Here I paused for a
 
 12 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 moment, waiting for the light above, but, much 
 to my concern, no light appeared. I put out 
 my hands to feel for my guide, who perhaps 
 would be able to explain, but she had silently 
 slipped from my side. A curious feeling of 
 uneasiness, fostered by the oppressive stillness, 
 took hold of me, and discretion at once sug- 
 gested a retreat ; but it I soon silenced. Hav- 
 ing once embarked on the adventure, I was 
 disinclined to turn back at the first obstacle. 
 No doubt she was patiently awaiting me at the 
 top of the stairs, afraid to show a light 
 
 ' Groping about for the staircase I at length 
 seized the rail and cautiously began to mount. 
 Step by step I went, higher and higher, my 
 rubber shoes absolutely noiseless. About half- 
 way up I paused, scarcely daring to breathe. 
 The night seemed terribly black and still. I 
 stood there, hanging between heaven and earth, 
 as it were, and listened intently. No sound 
 came from above, not even the rustle of a silken 
 robe. I dared not whisper lest it found its way 
 to other ears. Debarred from striking a light, 
 uncertain of what lay before, and possessed of 
 a vague awe which affected me more than I 
 should like to say, I stood irresolute for many
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 13 
 
 seconds, seconds which seemed like leaden- 
 footed minutes. Then, ashamed of myself, I 
 went on. 
 
 ' Step after step I climbed as noiselessly as 
 if my feet were shod with feathers. Fair up 
 the middle of the stairs I went, feeling with my 
 hands before me, till at last I knew that I had 
 reached the top. Here I rested for a moment, 
 listening with all my ears, but not the slightest 
 sound or movement reached me. It might have 
 been a vault into which I had climbed, so still 
 was everything. 
 
 ' My next experience was an exceedingly 
 curious one. Putting out my hand to feel for 
 the banister which led to her room, I touched 
 clothing of some description. Whether it was 
 on any one, or merely flung over the rail to air, 
 I could not say ; but the shock so startled me 
 that my heart gave half-a-dozen loud thumps. 
 I waited a moment, ten, twenty, scarcely daring 
 to breathe ; but nothing coming of the incident, 
 I again put out my hand, only more cautiously 
 this time. Indeed, so careful must I have been, 
 or so long did I take over the movement, that 
 at first, feeling nothing, I thought the article 
 must have been shifted, or I mistaken. But
 
 14 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 this I knew could not be. I was much too 
 wide awake to be imposed upon by any such 
 suspicion. 
 
 ' Presently my hand encountered something 
 hard and smooth, which my ringers lightly, but 
 immediately, encircled. A quick inrush of 
 thought, and I knew what had happened. 7 
 was touching a man 's pigtail ! 
 
 'The painful stillness, the disappearance of 
 my guide, the unexpected darkness ! A moment 
 only was needed to grasp the situation. In 
 some way or other Quong, learning of my 
 former adventure, had set a trap for me. Even 
 now he and his ruffians were here waiting, 
 perhaps to kill me. A sudden inclination to 
 twist my hand round the queue and pitch this 
 fellow down the stairs, and so account for one, 
 was only suppressed by the uncertainty of my 
 position, coupled with the not unlikely chance 
 of failure. 
 
 ' It was in this desperate strait that I formed 
 the somewhat daring resolve to creep past the 
 watcher, or watchers, and make my way to her 
 room, in which place I knew, or imagined, they 
 would never think of looking for me. To 
 retreat was impossible, for if I had succeeded in
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 15 
 
 descending the stairs safely, which was ex- 
 tremely doubtful, they would have been on me 
 before I could have made my way into the 
 street ; and in the darkness what more natural 
 than that I should be mistaken for a burglar, 
 possibly a murderer ? Quong was wise enough 
 to have thought this out. To go on was also a 
 ticklish business, for it was possible that I was 
 running my head still further into the lion's 
 jaws. But with the danger came the spirit to 
 meet it. Indeed, once I knew who my enemies 
 were, and what I was to expect, I was not un- 
 willing to meet them on their own terms. I 
 grew full of a great recklessness that worst of 
 follies which makes us underrate the enemy. 
 
 'Avoiding the man whose pigtail I had 
 touched, I bore a little to the left, meaning to 
 creep along by the wall ; but no sooner did I 
 put out my hand to feel the way than I touched 
 a human face ! In fact, my finger and thumb 
 almost closed upon the nose. A second of 
 awful suspense. Then I darted forward, when 
 a hand clutched me by the collar. 
 
 ' " Wah ! " exclaimed the voice harshly. 
 
 'The man knew by the feel of my clothes 
 that I was not a Chow.
 
 16 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 'A sudden bustle of feet followed, a light 
 was flashed in my face, and I knew the game 
 was up. I shook off the man who was holding 
 me by the collar, and turned to regain the 
 stairs ; but before I could reach them two of 
 Quong's men, whom I thought I recognised, 
 dim as the light was, flung themselves upon 
 me. 
 
 ' Then began a fierce struggle, I beating them 
 as best I could, they striving their hardest to 
 drag me towards the stairs. Instinctively I 
 guessed their object, but had no intention, if I 
 could help it, of descending those stairs the way 
 they wished. My present fear was that the 
 man behind might stab me in the back ; but 
 fortunately the light was so indifferent, and our 
 movements so rapid, that even had he wished 
 to do so he would have experienced some diffi- 
 culty in carrying out his purpose. 
 
 ' To and fro on the narrow landing we swayed, 
 now hard-pressed against the wall, and now 
 lurching over against the rail, which swayed and 
 creaked horribly as we swung against it. Indeed 
 I had a wild hope that the thing would give way 
 and precipitate us on to the landing below. But 
 that was a hope my opponents did not share
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 17 
 
 with me. Whenever we touched it they were 
 instantly off in the opposite direction, I with 
 them. They jammed me viciously against the 
 hard wall ; they tried to beat my head back 
 on it with the gentle intention of dashing out 
 my brains, I endeavouring to do the same by 
 them, and in one instance not without some 
 success. Seizing, by accident, a pigtail, I 
 twisted it round my hand, and with a mighty 
 effort swung the owner thereof back against the 
 wall. There was a horrid scream, a sickening 
 thud as his head struck the bricks, and I knew 
 that I had effectually rid myself of one of my 
 adversaries. But at this juncture the fellow who 
 had stood behind now came to the rescue of my 
 second opponent, whom I was dragging towards 
 the stairs with the amiable intention of pitching 
 him down head-first Reinforced thus he began 
 his attack with renewed fury, hissing and 
 spitting like a wild cat. I felt my strength 
 begin to give. My clothes, I knew, were in 
 ribbons ; the perspiration ran from me in 
 streams ; my breath came in quick hard gasps. 
 If I could not manage to shake them off soon 
 they would certainly overpower me, and then 
 For a second or so strange lights danced before 
 B
 
 i8 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 my eyes, and I was nearer fainting than I have 
 ever been in my life. But it was only for a 
 second. Instantly there darted through my 
 brain a desperate idea which sent the blood 
 rushing through my veins, a whirling torrent. 
 I struck them savagely about the head and 
 face, for with the rush of blood had come new 
 strength ; but beat them as I would there was 
 no shaking them off. They clung to me like 
 barnacles to a ship : they clogged my actions as 
 the barnacles clog the motion of a ship through 
 the water. There was little hope if I failed in 
 my endeavour. If I was to suffer they should 
 suffer with me. 
 
 ' With a tremendous effort, a stiffening of the 
 back which meant considerable determination, I 
 dragged them to the head of the stairs, and then 
 forced them backwards inch by inch. I had 
 one by the collar, the other by the hair. They 
 fought like devils, clawing my face with their 
 long nails, spitting, howling, cursing. But I 
 seemed to have the strength of two men. The 
 light which came from the landing above, held, 
 I did not doubt, by Quong himself, flickered 
 on the ghastly faces of the men, and lit with 
 a horrible fear their ugly little eyes. They
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 19 
 
 clutched me wildly, desperately. An awful 
 shriek, a sickening thud, and we three were 
 flying down the stairs head first. 
 
 ' It was over in a couple of seconds, and I 
 picked myself up none the worse for my 
 shaking. At first I could scarcely credit that 
 no bones were broken, though to the fact that 
 my enemies were under me I owed my 
 fortunate escape. I had, in short, come down 
 on them, using them as a sort of toboggan ; and 
 some fairly hard knocks they must have received, 
 for as I picked myself up and made hurriedly 
 for the bottom flight of stairs, I heard them 
 groan most dismally. 
 
 ' To reach the door, open it, and pass out into 
 the street was the work of a moment only ; and 
 thankful I was to feel the fresh night-breeze 
 sweep over my hot face. Down in the bay I 
 caught glimpses of the moon dancing on the 
 sparkling waters, while here and there I could 
 make out the riding lights of the ships as they 
 swung gracefully to the tide. 
 
 ' Knowing that I could not go to any hotel 
 in such a state I decided to go aboard at once, 
 and with that intention rapidly set out for the 
 landing-stage. But, and here the unexpected
 
 20 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 happened once again, just as I passed through 
 that narrow alley which leads from Quong's 
 shop to the waterside, a fellow stepped out of 
 the darkness and aimed a terrific blow at my 
 head. The attack was so sudden that I had 
 only time to spring a step aside. As it was 
 the bamboo skimmed my shoulder and crashed 
 upon the stones at my feet. When the man 
 saw he had missed he turned and fled up 
 the alley, and was immediately lost to sight. 
 Quaking at the unexpectedness of the assault, 
 for my nerves were all unstrung with my late 
 encounter, I made all haste to get out of the 
 noisome place, nor did I breathe freely till I 
 emerged upon the sea-front. 
 
 ' Here I looked about for a sampan, having 
 had enough of the land for one night, when out 
 of the shadow of one of the coasting steamers 
 which lay alongside of the wharf a coolie 
 advanced. 
 
 ' " Sampan, cap'n ? " 
 
 '"Yes." 
 
 ' I told him the name of our vessel, which, 
 apparently, was quite a superfluous piece of 
 information, as he seemed to know her name 
 perfectly, also her whereabouts.
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 21 
 
 '"This way, cap'n," he said. " Sampan close 
 by." 
 
 ' He led me past the stern of the steamer, where, 
 a few yards out from the shore, several boats 
 lay " Hi, sampan ! " he hailed, and presently 
 one of them crept in towards us. Shortly after 
 I was aboard and we had pushed off. 
 
 ' A feeling of relief swept through me as the 
 boat, steered by the man in the stern and rowed 
 by two men forward, shot out into the bay. I 
 was free of my enemies at last ; and now that 
 all danger was over I began to experience 
 a peculiar satisfaction at the turn affairs had 
 taken. Quong, it is true, had set a trap into 
 which I had innocently walked, but even that 
 wily one could not have foreseen the end of his 
 grim jest. Of her I scarcely dared to think, 
 though thought came with staggering sug- 
 gestions. What he could, or would, do to her I 
 did not know, but I knew that unless his 
 passion for her weakened his purpose, he 
 would mete out some particularly atrocious 
 punishment. 
 
 ' So engrossed was I with my own bewilder- 
 ing reflections, that I had not paid much 
 attention to the course we were steering, but on
 
 22 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 looking out I saw that we had swept down past 
 the shipping and were now opposite the native 
 quarter. This, of course, meant that we were 
 going from the ship instead of to it. 
 
 ' " Stop ! " I cried. " Where the deuce are you 
 going?" 
 
 ' " All li, cap'n ? " answered the man in the 
 stern. 
 
 ' " But it 's not all right. Turn round at 
 once ? " 
 
 '"Allli, allli." 
 
 ' But he made no effort to put the boat about. 
 Knowing what treacherous brutes these people 
 are, and suddenly becoming all -suspicious, I 
 turned round to further remonstrate with him, 
 and as I did so he sprang at me. With one 
 hand he clutched my throat, the other he drew 
 back quickly and I saw a knife flash in the 
 moonlight. As he brought it down, straight 
 for my breast, I seized his forearm. But quick 
 as I was I could not altogether stop the force 
 of the blow. It slit my jacket and slightly 
 punctured the skin beneath. With all the 
 force I could concentrate into the blow, I dashed 
 my free hand into his face. Striking him full 
 on the mouth, his teeth rattled ominously, and
 
 YELLOWAND WHITE 23 
 
 a sharp cry of pain and anger escaped him. 
 Then suddenly twisting his arm, which turned 
 the cry of pain into a positive shriek of agony, 
 I made him drop his knife, which disappeared 
 in the bottom of the boat. 
 
 ' Without giving him time to secure it I sprang 
 upon him, and was savagely battering his head 
 against one of the stern beams, when, chancing 
 to look up, I beheld the two rowers creeping 
 towards me. My plight was now a singularly 
 unpleasant one. Alone, unarmed, I was at the 
 mercy of these wretches. Fight I might, fight 
 I would, but it could only end one way. Their 
 little eyes gleamed like coals of fire as they 
 advanced. I saw the sickly moonbeams play 
 on the blades of their knives. 
 
 'All this time the tide was carrying the 
 sampan closer inshore. One swift glance 
 about me, which took in our position, and 
 my mind was made up. Before us, not a 
 hundred yards away, was a little promontory : 
 behind this the water spread out. The men, 
 seeing me watch them, stayed their advance for 
 a few seconds, and then came on again. They 
 would spring presently I knew it, I felt it. In 
 the meantime the boat was fast approaching
 
 24 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 the promontory. Once past it and there would 
 be no hope for me. 
 
 'With eyes still fixed on them I backed 
 towards the stern, the man whose head I had 
 broken lying beneath me motionless. Guessing 
 my meaning, no doubt, they sprang as I sprang, 
 the knife of the foremost man missing me by 
 an inch. 
 
 'As soon as I found myself in the water I 
 dived, keeping under as long as I could. When 
 I came to the surface the sampan was quite 
 twenty yards away. As I swam inshore I saw 
 it swept past the little promontory and disappear 
 in the darkness. 
 
 ' That's the story, old chap,' he continued, 'and 
 to my thinking, quite enough adventure for one 
 night. My friend Quong had made his arrange- 
 ments most cunningly. The sampan men were 
 engaged by him in case I should escape the 
 house ; even the attack in the alley-way had its 
 origin in that fertile brain. No, I did not lay 
 the affair before the authorities ; but you should 
 have seen the look of astonishment on Quong's 
 face when I presented myself at his house next 
 day.' 
 
 ' And the woman ? ' I asked.
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE 25 
 
 'I know nothing of her, though I believe 
 Quong has sent her away somewhere. Perhaps 
 she is dead.' 
 
 ' And all for a moment's folly.' 
 
 He looked at me, a sudden, startled expres- 
 sion in his eyes. 
 
 ' Yes/ he said with a sigh, ' all for a moment's 
 folly. Good God, just think of it !'
 
 FAN-TAN 
 
 I FIRST met him in the billiard-room of the 
 Hong Kong Hotel, a place not quite so select, 
 perhaps, as the reception-room at Buckingham 
 Palace on a drawing-room day, but a place in 
 which one often dropped across some curiously 
 entertaining personages. In the Far East all 
 roads lead to Hong Kong, and the wanderers, 
 were they so inclined, might dilate strangely 
 on that providence which had hustled them 
 into this out of the way spot. He was a 
 Portuguese, this person of whom I am speaking ; 
 at least, so he took particular pains to impress 
 upon me. I, however, strongly suspected that 
 there was a strain of the Chinaman in him, 
 though even to have hinted at this would have 
 been a most deadly insult. You might as well 
 ask an Anglo-Indian if he had drunk too much 
 coffee during his youth, or sat too long in the 
 sun. White folks born in these Eastern lands 
 
 26
 
 FAN-TAN 27 
 
 are mighty sensitive on this head ; for they 
 know that women like rich gifts, for the sake 
 of which they will overlook the colour of the 
 giver. Variety in any guise is charming. 
 
 His name was Pinto something or other 
 (some unpronounceable foreign name), and he 
 was a native of Oporto, now settled in Macao. 
 That he had ever seen Oporto I doubted, just 
 as I doubted his pure descent ; but it was 
 really no affair of mine, and in the Far East 
 you should not keep staring into a man's eyes 
 because you think they have a suspicious 
 Oriental slant. I found Pinto a very decent 
 sort of fellow ; polite to a degree, and fairly 
 well educated. He had come down to Hong 
 Kong on some business connected with a 
 property which he held in Macao, and he was 
 about to return to that salubrious city on the 
 morrow. He asked me if I had ever been 
 there, and to my reply in the negative assured 
 me that I should miss it on no account what- 
 ever. It was very picturesque, prettily situated, 
 and full of historical interest. Was it not here 
 that China first came in contact with the West? 
 and here it was that the great Camoens wrote 
 the chief part of his immortal Lusiad, that
 
 28 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 precious manuscript which he nearly lost when, 
 on his homeward voyage, he was wrecked 
 off the mouth of the Mekong. The grotto 
 where the exiled poet immortalised an ungrate- 
 ful country stands there yet, and a shabby 
 monument with half-obliterated characters tells 
 in vainglorious language that here the great 
 Lusian lived and thought. But in Macao all 
 is dead. Even the spirits of the old adven- 
 turers no longer haunt the land. In Asia, as 
 in Europe, the Portuguee has lost caste, and the 
 ubiquitous Chinaman has set up his fan -tan 
 tables on the remnants of a past greatness. 
 
 This was not exactly as Pinto said it, for 
 in his own stupid way he thought the ruined 
 but picturesque-looking city was the flower of 
 the East, and he seemed to believe that the day 
 would come again when the foreign merchants 
 would crowd in their thousands to the Praya 
 Grande. But in the meantime the city lay 
 under a cloud, and an impecunious administra- 
 tion managed to eke out a miserable existence 
 by allowing the Chinese to open gambling- 
 houses throughout the town. 
 
 I had heard a good deal about the fan-tan 
 playing at Macao, and though no novice in
 
 FAN-TAN 29 
 
 such matters, I must confess that Pinto rather 
 stirred my curiosity by the warmth of his 
 descriptions. At any rate, I would have to 
 visit the place sometime or other, and what 
 better opportunity could I expect than the 
 present ? My new-found friend expressed him- 
 self as being only too willing to place his 
 services at my disposal. He knew every nook 
 and corner of the old town, and what he 
 couldn't show me would hardly be worth the 
 seeing. 
 
 In those days there used to be a very fine 
 steamer running between Hong Kong and 
 Macao, and every Saturday morning the 
 brokers of the former city (and in Hong Kong 
 everybody is a broker, more or less) used to 
 turn up in goodly numbers on the Macao boat, 
 ostensibly for a change of air, in reality to 
 have one more shot at the fascinating fan-tan. 
 There were at least a dozen men aboard whom 
 I knew well, so that I did not miss the com- 
 panionship of Pinto on the voyage up ; for 
 that worthy, pleading his dread of the sea, 
 had curled himself up on a comfortable settee 
 in the saloon arid slept the journey through. 
 
 Just before arriving at our destination, I
 
 30 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 went below to rouse him up, informing him 
 that my friends had almost prevailed upon me 
 to accompany them. What I wanted to know 
 was, would he mind very much if I did. He 
 smiled, showing his curious white teeth. Of 
 course, he said, I was at perfect liberty to do 
 as I pleased, and it was only natural that I 
 should like to be with my friends ; but, and 
 his little remonstrance was delightful, he had 
 engaged rooms for us in the very cosiest little 
 hotel in Macao, and moreover, had put off 
 some very important business engagements so 
 that he could the better devote himself to me. 
 Yet if I would rather be with my friends of 
 course, he would be extremely sorry, and he 
 didn't mind admitting that he would be just 
 a little bit hurt, but he would hope for better 
 luck next time. And as he very prettily 
 shrugged his shoulders he caressed his black 
 moustache most lovingly. Pinto's hands were 
 not pretty, but he worked them very expres- 
 sively, showing to full advantage the large ring 
 which he wore on the middle finger of his 
 right hand. A curious ring was this, of the 
 shape of a signet, the stone jade, but excep- 
 tional in its clearness and purity. On it was
 
 FAN-TAN 31 
 
 cut a gallows, beam, rope, and noose, as per- 
 fectly as any hangman could wish. Pinto told 
 me that he had picked it up in a curio-shop 
 in Bangkok ; that he supposed it had a history, 
 but that he knew nothing of it. It was certainly 
 a unique ring, but, so I thought, just a trifle 
 uncanny. Pinto laughed. He evidently had a 
 taste for such gruesome things. 
 
 Seeing the disappointment on his face, and 
 knowing that he had been looking forward to 
 showing me about the town, I had neither the 
 heart nor inclination to leave him in the lurch. 
 Nor were my friends so dear to me that I 
 regretted parting with them. Moreover, should 
 we not all go back in the boat first thing on 
 Monday morning? 
 
 ' I '11 stay with you, Pinto,' I said, ' but you 
 have promised to show me everything, you 
 know. If I stay with those fellows I shall 
 see nothing but the inside of the gambling- 
 houses.' 
 
 Pinto was delighted, and when the boat made 
 fast to the landing-stage we walked ashore 
 together, my friends the brokers having gone 
 on before. 
 
 It is not my intention to here set down the
 
 I 
 
 32 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 many sights I saw, but my friend Pinto, once 
 his foot touched his native heath, proved him- 
 self the best and most affable of guides. The 
 history of every street, building, and alley-way 
 he repeated for my delectation. He engaged 
 the chairs, he bully-ragged the boys ; he even 
 told me what to eat and drink, and then wound 
 up by initiating me into the mysteries of fan- 
 tan. 
 
 There are many gambling-houses in Macao, the 
 business of which is carried on as unconcernedly, 
 and just as methodically, as the tailor's shop 
 round the corner. In fact it is a shop a shop 
 where men drink of the poisoned cup ; where, 
 according to the outlay, one may purchase 
 madness, despair, death. But the yellow-faced 
 Chinaman grows sleeker, and the impecunious 
 administration pays itself its salary. 
 
 You walk into the open door without let 
 or hindrance. There is none of the pretence 
 about it of hypocritical Monte Carlo. No one 
 asks for your card or inquires your name. 
 While you have a dollar (and you can stake 
 five hundred of them at a time), or a cent to 
 lose, you are made welcome. When you are 
 cleaned out, you must go and make room for
 
 FAN-TAN 33 
 
 others. Here they have no more love for men 
 with empty pockets than they have in other 
 parts of the world. 
 
 Fan -tan is, perhaps, the simplest of all 
 great gambling games. A square sheet of 
 metal (lead for choice, as being less movable) 
 is placed in the middle of the table. Its sides 
 are numbered from one to four, and it is on 
 these numbers that you stake your money ; 
 or you may put your stake on the corners 
 and thus take in two numbers, though then 
 your winnings only equal your stake-money. 
 At the head of the table, with a great heap 
 of yellow cash before him, sits the man who 
 counts, a long thin stick in his hand, with 
 which he drags the little coins towards him. 
 First of all he, or any player present, takes a 
 handful of the cash from the big pile and lays 
 it before the man whose duty it is to count. 
 Every eye, of course, is on him. His long 
 sleeve is rolled up to his elbow, and with the 
 slender stick he begins his duties. As there 
 are only four sides to the metal plate, he drags 
 away four cash at a time till he comes to the 
 end. Then if four are left four wins ; if three 
 are left three wins ; and so on with two and 
 C
 
 34 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 one. There are other little niceties in the 
 game, though this is the main feature. 
 
 Pinto took me in to have a look, and while he 
 was explaining the game I lost forty dollars, 
 which, of course, only made me more eager to 
 go on. But my friend Pinto grew serious. 
 
 ' Forty dollars is a lot,' he said. ' Quite 
 enough to pay for learning. You, fortunately, 
 have not the luck of the novice, my friend. Do 
 you know, I congratulate you. You will win 
 in the end. The novice that wins in the 
 beginning is lost. Who ever won anything 
 worth winning at the first pop ? Bah ! I tell 
 you it is a good sign. There is hope for you. 
 And now I think we had better go back to 
 dinner. Perhaps we shall do better after- 
 wards.' 
 
 The hotel to which my friend Pinto had 
 taken me was not a very commodious one, and 
 was, I thought, in a somewhat unpretentious 
 street ; but on such occasions one does not care 
 much for the style of the lodgings. I was not 
 likely to spend many hours in the house. 
 
 That night I had another long lesson in the 
 fascinating game, for which I paid the, to me, 
 considerable sum of seventy-five dollars. Then
 
 FAN-TAN 35 
 
 half a dozen of my broker friends came in, 
 bearing painful evidence of having dined too 
 heartily ; and eventually we all rolled off to see 
 the sights, my friend Pinto disappearing in some 
 unaccountable manner. 
 
 The next day being Sunday we all engaged 
 chairs and were transported through the mal- 
 odorous city, and a very bad impression we 
 must have left upon the thoughtful native, for 
 some of our party, to say the least of it, were 
 hardly decorous. But what cared we? We 
 were all free-born Britons, and as such had a 
 splendid contempt for the opinion of the d d 
 foreigner. 
 
 I did not see my friend Pinto all that day, 
 as I did not go near my lodgings ; but in the 
 evening, while we were all busily engaged 
 losing our money, he strolled in and watched, 
 with a somewhat superior smile, the various 
 emotions which flitted over the faces of the 
 players. Presently I beheld him edging his 
 way round to me, the same superior smile on 
 his face. 
 
 ' Well ? ' he inquired. 
 
 ' So, so,' was my reply. ' I am not losing. 
 Ah, I Ve won again. Fifty dollars this time.'
 
 36 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 I drew the greasy notes towards me with a 
 flash of triumph. 
 
 { Good,' he said approvingly. ' I told you 
 you would win. I hope you'll break the 
 bank.' 
 
 I hoped so too. ' But why is it that you 
 don't have a shot ? ' I asked. ' Have you no 
 little human vices ? ' 
 
 He smiled gloomily. 'My dear sir, I have 
 had my fling. Seventy thousand dollars gone 
 in three years. Pretty good, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Or pretty bad.' 
 
 ' Oh, but I lived, I lived.' 
 
 'And what good has your three years of 
 living done you ? ' 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 'Nothing. It 
 does not even please my vanity now. But 
 look, you have won again. You are in luck, my 
 friend. How reluctantly that yellow devil parts 
 with the bank-notes. What, are you going to 
 plunge ? One hundred dollars ! On number 
 three. Well, I hope you'll win, my friend, I 
 hope you '11 win.' 
 
 We watched the stolid celestial as he slowly 
 counted out the cash, all eagerly straining our 
 necks to see what the number would be. The
 
 FAN-TAN 37 
 
 unemotional Chow manipulated his little stick 
 with the utmost coolness. 
 
 ' It 's four,' cried one of the players. 
 
 ' It 's two,' cried another. 
 
 ' It 's three/ cried a third. 
 
 ' Thlee,' drawled the croupier lazily, ' number 
 thlee 'ave win.' 
 
 I drew in three hundred dollars on that deal. 
 My friend Pinto patted me on the shoulder. 
 
 1 Very good, very good,' he said approvingly. 
 'You understand fan-tan now.' And with a 
 strange look in his eyes, which I was too excited 
 to read aright, he left me. 
 
 And so for hour after hour I sat there play- 
 ing, now speculating rashly, and now doling out 
 the wagers in little driblets. One by one my 
 broker friends left the place, begging me to 
 go with them ; but the spirit of the game had 
 entered my blood, and I would have sat there 
 till I dropped from sheer fatigue. Moreover, I 
 was winning. How much I could not say, 
 having neither time nor opportunity to count 
 it ; but I knew it could have been little short of 
 five thousand dollars. I know the yellow face 
 of the croupier turned positively green as he 
 handed me note after note, while even the
 
 38 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 stolid face of the man who counted betokened 
 more interest in the fight. Perhaps I might 
 not have felt so easy in my mind had I been 
 less engrossed with the game, for the half-dozen 
 fellows who lounged about the table staking 
 trivial sums were as evil-looking a lot as one in 
 my position would care to see. Once, even, as 
 I suddenly lifted my head, I thought I saw some 
 secret looks pass between them, and, for the 
 moment, I was startled. It was then I recog- 
 nised the folly of which I had been guilty in 
 letting my friends go off without me. Though 
 not exactly afraid, I knew I was very foolishly 
 tempting providence. 
 
 But fortunately at that moment my friend 
 Pinto strolled into the room. 
 
 ' What,' he cried, evidently surprised at seeing 
 me, ' not gone yet ? ' 
 
 ' Does it look like it ? ' 
 
 'Isn't it about time?' 
 
 ' I think so.' 
 
 ' And I. It 's late, my friend, and I have to 
 be away early in the morning. Has Fortune 
 favoured the brave ? ' 
 
 ' Does she not always favour the brave ? I 
 believe I Ve won five or six thousand dollars.'
 
 FAN-TAN 39 
 
 Pinto's eyes sparkled. 
 
 ' S'ch ! ' he said. ' Not quite so loud, my 
 friend. Six thousand dollars is a lot of money 
 for a stranger to carry through the streets of 
 Macao, late at night' 
 
 ' I have something else, my dear Pinto. Six 
 ounces of lead,' I answered. 
 
 ' So, you carry a revolver ? ' This, curiously. 
 
 ' One ounce of lead for each thousand dollars.' 
 
 Pinto laughed. ' That 's good, my friend, very 
 good. It is always as well to be on the safe 
 side.' 
 
 We were at the door now looking out for our 
 chair coolies, but unfortunately those individuals 
 had disappeared. Some twenty yards down 
 the street were the men who had been gam- 
 bling with me. I watched them slink into the 
 shadows and disappear. 
 
 ' I didn't like the look of those fellows, Pinto.' 
 
 ' They were not very amiable-looking souls,'he 
 confessed, ' but of course one must not judge too 
 harshly. Still, I 'm glad I met you. But where 
 can those infernal coolies be? Confound them, 
 they 're never by when they 're wanted. Stay 
 here a minute, my friend. I will go and look 
 them up.'
 
 40 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 Before I could remonstrate, or suggest that 
 we should walk, he had darted off down the 
 street, and I saw his figure disappear in the 
 darkness. Feeling that my money was safe, I 
 lit a cigar and waited for a good five minutes ; 
 but to my surprise no Pinto came in sight. I own 
 that I was just a little put out at this, surprise 
 and anger bubbling for expression ; but think- 
 ing that he might possibly have wandered far 
 afield in search of chairs too far to hope that 
 he would find me in the same place on his 
 return he had consequently made direct for 
 the hotel, knowing that I was sure to follow. 
 At least, this was the way I read his absence, 
 and having no further wish to prolong my 
 acquaintance with the doorstep of this parti- 
 cular gambling-house, I stepped out into the 
 street ; though not before I had drawn the case 
 from my revolver and placed the weapon ready 
 to my hand. 
 
 On I hurried, eyes and ears alert. Instinctively 
 I gave a wide berth to every figure I saw 
 slinking about in the darkness, remembering 
 what my friend Pinto had said of strangers in 
 the streets of Macao ; notwithstanding which a 
 full half of the journey was accomplished before
 
 FAN-TAN 41 
 
 anything untoward occurred. Indeed I was 
 beginning to laugh at myself for my unmanly 
 fears, when out of a dark alley to the right of 
 me rang the report of a pistol. My hat was 
 partly lifted off my head. For a moment I 
 thought I was hit, so close to my ear had the 
 villainous bullet hissed. I looked up the alley, 
 the darkness of which was so intense that I 
 could see nothing. To have penetrated such 
 a gloomy labyrinth, though perhaps desirable, 
 would have been foolhardy in the extreme. 
 But to stand there gaping meant another shot 
 presently, and as I had no further wish to be 
 made a target of, I darted into the shadows 
 opposite and pursued my way. 
 
 Fifty yards farther on I had to descend a 
 narrow street, which led into the broader one in 
 which my hotel was situated. As I turned 
 sharply round the corner I ran into two men 
 who were coming in the opposite direction. 
 There was a loud oath, almost like a scream, 
 and I had only time to spring back to avoid a 
 furious blow which was aimed at my head. As 
 it was, the heavy cudgel struck the wall beside 
 me a resounding blow. 
 
 'What the devil do you mean, you pigs,' I
 
 42 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 cried angrily, whipping out my revolver; for, 
 however easy-going a fellow may be, he resents 
 having his head cracked in this unseemly 
 fashion. 
 
 As I stepped out of the deep shadow the 
 fellows stealthily followed me, without speak- 
 ing ; but a stray moonbeam, resting for a 
 moment on the bright barrel of the pistol, 
 showed them the weapon I had in my hand. 
 They mumbled something in their bastard 
 Portuguese and slunk off into the night. Phew ! 
 This was getting exciting. 
 
 Down the narrow street I went, the pistol in 
 my hand, ready for use; and to avoid any 
 ambush I now walked in the middle of the 
 road. This, however, made little difference, 
 as the houses were so high and the street 
 so narrow and winding that all the light from 
 above was entirely excluded. It was not a very 
 agreeable journey, and I heaved a sigh of relief 
 as I emerged into the broader thoroughfare. In 
 a few moments I was safely inside my little hotel. 
 
 The landlord, a Portuguee with a black, for- 
 bidding cast of countenance, was waiting to let 
 me in ; and to my inquiries after Pinto he told 
 me that that worthy had just retired. As I
 
 FAN-TAN 43 
 
 supposed, he had gone far afield without being 
 able to find our chairs, and guessing that I 
 would have left my perch before he could get 
 back, he had come on to the hotel. Such was 
 the story the landlord told me, which, of course, 
 entirely agreed with my own suppositions. 
 
 Flushed with the success of my night's work, 
 I ordered a bottle of wine, which the landlord 
 brought to me uncorked, a fact I might have 
 regarded with suspicion had he not helped me 
 to dispose of it over a friendly smoke. No 
 mention was made of my winnings, so that 
 Pinto could have said nothing about my luck. 
 I did not think it necessary to inform the land- 
 lord, whose little black eyes were not quick in 
 making friends. 
 
 Bidding him a hearty good-night, I went up- 
 stairs to my room. The door of the apartment 
 next to mine was wide open, and as I passed I 
 heard the occupant snoring placidly. I admired 
 the careless disregard of intruders which that 
 open door proclaimed, but I doubted if the 
 snorer had six thousand dollars in his posses- 
 sion. At any rate, I was not going to show 
 my confidence in my fellow-man by leaving my 
 door open ; and so, as soon as I had deposited
 
 44 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 my candle on the dressing-table, I turned to 
 lock the door, when, to my intense chagrin, I 
 could not find the key. I searched high and 
 low, the matting on the floor, the dressing-table, 
 the wash-stand, but it was nowhere to be seen. 
 Then I began to wonder if there had ever been 
 a key. What had I done the night before ? I 
 puzzled for a moment. Then I remembered 
 suddenly that I had not passed the night there 
 at all. No doubt, keys were not required 
 in such an honest house. I, however, carried 
 the wash-stand over to the door, and so arranged 
 it that any pressure from without would send 
 the jug clattering into the basin. 
 
 I then turned to my couch, which, and this 
 struck me as rather peculiar, was thoroughly 
 Eastern in style. A couple of mattresses spread 
 on the floor, with blankets and rugs as clothing. 
 In the day-time this is all rolled up and hidden 
 away. The advantages such a bed possesses 
 in the way of space and cleanliness will be 
 apparent; but the advantage of its present 
 position, which was over against the thin parti- 
 tion which divided me from my friend the snorer, 
 did not meet with my entire approval. I pulled 
 it out into the middle of the room.
 
 FAN-TAN 45 
 
 Drawing the blind, which I noticed was a 
 very thin white one, and carefully setting out 
 all the money I had won, I sat down and 
 counted it ; and as the great pile of bank-notes, 
 good Hong Kong and Shanghai notes too, lay 
 before me on the floor, I could scarcely realise 
 that they were all mine. I counted five 
 thousand eight hundred and seventy-five dollars, 
 and felt like a millionaire. Then I wrapped 
 them up carefully in my handkerchief and 
 placed the precious bundle in the inside pocket 
 of my coat, which garment I carefully folded up 
 and as carefully placed beneath my pillow, 
 laying my revolver beside it. Then I jumped 
 into bed and blew out the candle. 
 
 Of course I did not expect to sleep for an 
 hour or so. What poor devil suddenly coming 
 into six thousand dollars could ? I played the 
 game over and over and over till my six 
 thousand was multiplied by sixty, and I was 
 positively wallowing in a sea of bank-notes. 
 The yellow-faced croupier had grown as green 
 as the jade in Pinto's ring, and was seriously 
 contemplating a sort of honourable hara-kirri 
 from the carven gallows of the said ring, which 
 dangled green and slimy in the sky. The
 
 46 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 stolid face of the Chow who counted the cash 
 had taken to itself a human look. Even the 
 cash grew into a gleaming hill as high as the 
 Peak at Hong Kong, and a colossus with a pig- 
 tail like a ship's cable counted it with a wand 
 as high as the main-mast of a wind-jammer. 
 
 I tossed from side to side like one possessed 
 of fever. I closed my eyes with the grim 
 determination to force myself into sleep, but no 
 sooner were they shut than I was back again in 
 the hell, tossing bank-notes about, and crying in 
 my loudest voice, ' John, changee ' ; and back 
 would come from the unemotional croupier the 
 soft, * All li, all li.' And thus the maddening 
 game went on. A dozen times I dozed, and as 
 often awoke with a start. 
 
 But presently with my waking was blended 
 the curious feeling that something was happen- 
 ing. At first I lay there thinking I was dream- 
 ing, that I only fancied I was awake ; though I 
 soon took occasion to convince myself of the 
 reality of my wakefulness. 
 
 At first I seemed to be sliding softly over a 
 bed of sand, the movement making a low, 
 swishing noise. Where I was going, or why, 
 I did not know ; but I was most surely going
 
 FAN-TAN 47 
 
 somewhere. For a moment or two I lay utterly 
 bewildered. Then I sat up in bed and pulled 
 my hair to see if I really were awake. I felt 
 the rug, the mattresses, the soft matting beneath ; 
 my coat, pistol. Everything was in its place. 
 I threw myself back, laughing silently. I had 
 been entertaining Madame Nightmare. 
 
 Afraid that there was little hope of sleep that 
 night, I lay back with wide-open eyes fixed on 
 the window, through the thin blind of which 
 came fitful gleams of moo'nlight. And yet tired 
 I must have been, for despite the restlessness of 
 my brain, my eyes would keep shutting and 
 opening spasmodically. I dozed off and on in 
 a very singular manner. My brain throbbed 
 painfully as it bore the tumultuous rush of 
 thought after thought. For a short space I 
 thought I was going mad. 
 
 I opened my eyes resolutely, determined not 
 to shut them again, since sleep brought such 
 horrid dreams. But exhausted nature would 
 not be denied. I had not been staring at 
 the window very long before I felt the old 
 drowsy feeling come over me, and I was on the 
 point of nodding when my eye caught the out- 
 line of a figure against the side of the window .
 
 48 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 Keenly I watched it, thinking, of course, that it 
 was some one who had heard of my good fortune 
 and wished to share it with me. I held my 
 breath, expecting every minute to hear the jug 
 crash into the basin, as the individual, or in- 
 dividuals, tried to open the door. But though 
 I waited patiently, no such sound came. On 
 the contrary, the stillness of death reigned, 
 though the figure continued spreading itself 
 across the window. And now I saw that it 
 stretched from top to bottom, that it was square 
 in shape, and as unlike a human figure as one 
 could well imagine. 
 
 I rubbed my eyes to be sure that I was not 
 asleep. No; there was the shadow just as I 
 had seen it, though it grew larger and larger as 
 I watched. I accounted for this singular appari- 
 tion in many ways, the most feasible of which 
 was that the moon, sinking low in the sky, 
 had begun to cast long shadows about the 
 world, and that she had thrown this one across 
 my window. And yet, as I thought out my 
 position, I knew this could not be ; for the 
 moon, being in the opposite direction, would 
 have thrown shadows from, instead of on, the 
 window.
 
 FAN-TAN 49 
 
 What could it mean ? A violent shiver 
 ran from head to foot as the horrible thought 
 that I was mad assailed me ; that what I 
 saw did not really exist ; that I had won no 
 money at the fan-tan tables, but that I was in 
 my own room at Hong Kong. I glared about 
 me wildly, and to my horror saw in the dim 
 light, or fancied I saw, that even the walls of 
 the room were closing in upon me ! Now I 
 knew there could be no mistake : I was mad, 
 raving mad. The excitement of the tables, of 
 winning so much when I wanted it so badly, 
 had been more than I could bear. My brain had 
 cracked beneath the unusual strain. I sat up 
 terrified, yet full of a dreadful, deadly sort of 
 reason. But there was no mistake. There, 
 growing larger and larger, was that awful 
 shadow against the window, while the walls 
 were undoubtedly closing in upon me ! 
 
 This I knew could not be : it was sure proof 
 of my madness. And yet cautiously, like one 
 who knows he will be disappointed, I put out 
 my hand, when to my utter amazement and 
 terror I really felt the wall ! And yet how 
 could this be ? Mad as I was I had a distinct 
 recollection of having dragged the mattress 
 D
 
 50 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 into the middle of the room before turning in. 
 But, and here I grew the more bewildered, 
 could I have done so? This puzzled me 
 considerably, adding a deeper distrust of my 
 senses. Convinced against reason, or what 
 answered as its equivalent, I was in a singular 
 state of alarm. Yet if I had really placed the 
 bed in the middle of the room, how could it 
 have got over here against the wall, and I with 
 it? This was too much for my bewildered 
 senses. It was no use hoping against hope. I 
 was mad, mad. 
 
 I lay back staring at the slowly increasing 
 bulk of the shadow, my mind confused, my 
 heart sick within me. Then suddenly a strange, 
 soft, grating sound, not unlike the gnawing of 
 rats, fell on my ear. Intently I listened to the 
 slow crunch, crunch, crunch. I was a moment 
 or two trying to fix the exact spot from whence 
 the sound issued, for it seemed to run along 
 from end to end of the room, just underneath 
 the partition. A rat run, I doubted not 
 unless my mind was playing another prank 
 with me. Nevertheless, I put out my hand, 
 cautiously feeling along the matting, when to 
 my astonishment I found that the partition had
 
 FAN-TAN 51 
 
 been raised some five or six inches from the 
 floor ! More than ever was I puzzled with this 
 discovery. But as I lay there, my hand on the 
 matting, I felt a strain on the latter, apparently 
 caused from the other side. The low crunch, 
 crunch, followed. The shadow on the window 
 loomed perceptibly larger: the wall came 
 
 closer. 
 
 It needed but one swift flash of intelligence 
 
 to lay bare the secret. I was neither mad nor 
 dreaming. The wall was not coming to me: 
 it was I who was being dragged to it ! 
 
 For a short space I lay quiet thinking what I 
 had better do, and as I did so the low crunch, 
 crunch, of the matting came again. Then I 
 slipped my hand under the pillow, removed my 
 coat, and gripped my revolver, but all gently 
 and without the slightest noise ; for I guessed 
 that the person, or persons, who had formed this 
 novel plan of robbing me, was not without some 
 means of watching my movements. But now 
 that I was wide awake, and prepared for almost 
 any emergency, I experienced a grim satisfac- 
 tion in imagining the turn events would take. 
 
 Lying with my face to the wall, I, fascinated, 
 watched it creep closer and closer, the crunching
 
 52 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 growing softer and softer till it died away 
 altogether. Then I knew that the serious part 
 of the business was about to commence, for the 
 bed was now close up against the partition, and 
 operations would begin forthwith. I had no 
 doubt whatever that every action of mine had 
 been watched from the moment I entered the 
 room that night, and that the watcher had duly 
 noted where I had put my money. I accordingly 
 kept my eyes fixed on the spot between my 
 pillow and the wall ; and though I saw nothing, 
 I had not been watching more than a minute 
 before I felt something scratch the pillow just 
 under my ear. Had I not been wide awake 
 and expecting such a thing, I might very easily 
 have passed it over as one of those mysterious 
 sounds which are always heard at night ; but 
 knowing what it portended on this occasion, I 
 made up my mind. 
 
 With a stealthy movement I lifted my right 
 arm ; then a quick clasp, and I had seized the 
 would-be robber by the wrist. A smothered 
 exclamation broke from the other side of the 
 partition, and the owner of the wrist began to 
 tug fiercely ; but with my other hand I seized 
 his fingers, and pressing his arm back against
 
 FAN-TAN 53 
 
 the partition vowed I would break it if he did 
 not keep quiet, and gave such earnest of my 
 intention, that for a space he ceased struggling. 
 Then I asked him who he was, but, of course, 
 without eliciting any response. I could hear 
 him muttering and puffing as he lay extended 
 on the floor, and I rather gloried in the pain I 
 was causing him. Then I felt his fingers, but 
 none of them was missing ; though on the 
 middle one I discovered a ring. My intention 
 was to get this, but no sooner did I attempt to 
 withdraw it than his fingers closed upon my 
 hand, and he began to struggle furiously. I, 
 however, hit him a sharp rap over the knuckles 
 with the barrel of my revolver, which for the 
 moment completely paralysed them. I then 
 opened his hand with ease and took off the 
 ring. Then with a quick jerk he freed himself 
 from my grasp, and I immediately rolled back 
 off the bed. Nor was I a moment too soon. 
 A hand was dashed through the paper partition, 
 and I heard the stab, stab of a knife as it 
 struck the spot where I had lain a moment 
 before. Then followed a period of unnatural 
 quiet, during which I crept farther away from 
 the bed, where I sat, my coat beneath me, my
 
 54 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 revolver ready, for I could not imagine in what 
 manner I might next be attacked. But after a 
 good half-hour's waiting nothing more came of 
 it Then, the day beginning to break, I dressed 
 myself and opened the door. 
 
 There was no noise in the street ; no one 
 was moving about the house. My neighbour's 
 door was locked had been from the outside I 
 did not doubt. I picked up my hat, remembering 
 my journey through the streets. There was a 
 hole through it where the bullet of the would- 
 be assassin had passed. I went to the window 
 and looked out. What I had taken for a 
 shadow was the chimney of the house next 
 door. 
 
 I left that morning without waiting for 
 breakfast I thought the amiable landlord 
 watched me rather curiously as I walked into 
 the parlour and asked for the bill. 
 
 ' The senor has spent a good night, I hope ? ' 
 
 ' Capital.' 
 
 ' He will not forget to recommend my modest 
 hostelry ? ' 
 
 ' Trust me. But where is Pinto ? ' 
 
 4 The senor's friend ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' With a curious laugh.
 
 FAN-TAN 55 
 
 ' He left at daybreak,' answered the man. 
 
 ' He was in a hurry ? ' 
 
 ' A great hurry.' 
 
 'So I should imagine. Look, he has even 
 forgotten his ring.' And I held up the jade 
 ring which I had torn from the hand of the 
 would-be robber and murderer. 
 
 ' Indeed,' said the man indifferently. 
 
 ' He left it in my room last night. You '11 
 tell him I Ve got it ? ' 
 
 ' If I see him, senor.' 
 
 ' He '11 know where to find me. Good 
 morning. Oh, by the way,' and here I came 
 back a step, ' you ought always to nail a mat 
 to a greasy floor.' 
 
 He tried to look vacant, but succeeded very 
 badly. 
 
 ' I do not understand,' he muttered. 
 
 ' You will if you go up to my room.' And 
 so I left him, his scowling eyes following me to 
 the door. 
 
 I still have Pinto's jade ring with its curious 
 carving of a gallows ; but singular to relate, that 
 estimable Portuguee has neither called nor 
 written for it.
 
 COOLIES 
 
 CHEONG-Wo did not bear a very good name 
 even among his unprincipled compatriots, though 
 I doubt if we could justly blame him for what 
 happened during the voyage. I have since 
 heard that several of our passengers were very 
 badly ' wanted ' by the police, and that Cheong- 
 Wo was well paid to ship them out of the 
 colony ; but that is what any yellow man 
 would do, or white one either, if he thought he 
 wouldn't get found out. Both are 'on the 
 make ' ; honestly on it if possible, if not, one 
 must seize every trifling advantage. The 
 aggregate mounts up rapidly. In China one 
 must either ' squeeze ' or be ' squeezed,' and as 
 the former is the more pleasant sensation, its 
 cultivation is obvious. Might is always right ; 
 but cunning is the supreme test of intelligence. 
 We were chartered this time to carry coolies 
 from Hong Kong to Singapore and Penang, 
 
 56
 
 COOLIES 57 
 
 returning through the Straits to Bangkok, 
 where we were to load with rice. On this 
 particular occasion the aforementioned Cheong- 
 Wo was the important person who had chartered 
 us, and I can't say that he was neglectful of his 
 own interest, for he not alone presented each of 
 us officers with a box of good cigars, but the 
 night before we sailed he had as many of us 
 ashore as could come, and gave us the best 
 dinner we had had for a long time. You 
 may be sure that the ' old man,' which is the 
 familiar way sailors speak of their captain 
 behind his back also came in for something 
 substantial. It was not likely that Cheong, 
 who had propitiated the juniors, would forget 
 that all-powerful one. 
 
 So, early one Thursday morning away we went 
 with eighteen hundred of the ugliest, dirtiest 
 wretches on board that it had ever been my 
 lot to see filthier, I believe, than the cargo of 
 pilgrims we took to Jeddah last year. Pilgrims, 
 I admit, are universally given the palm for filth ; 
 it is a part of their sanctity : they are human 
 sewers, and worse ; but I think that even the 
 most devout pilgrim that ever journeyed to the 
 sacred shrine at Mecca could not give many
 
 58 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 points to several of the wretches we had aboard. 
 At least, for the sake of the poor devils who 
 have to carry them, I hope not. I was never 
 on such a floating midden in my life, and I 
 pray to heaven, apart from what happened, 
 that I may never be again. To poke your nose 
 down a hatchway, to get to leeward of a 
 ventilator, or to pass 'tween decks, was to 
 inhale the concentrated essence of eighteen 
 hundred unprecedented stinks. To describe 
 the scene is impossible, the details would be 
 too revolting ; but perhaps it is not altogether 
 impossible to imagine eighteen hundred filthy 
 creatures all huddled together for four or five 
 days, afraid to leave their belongings for a 
 moment. 
 
 All went well with us till we had passed the 
 dangerous Paracels, a cluster of rocks lying in 
 the track of steamers bound from Hong Kong 
 to Singapore, upon which many a good ship 
 had rushed to her doom. Even the thoughtless 
 coolie breathes freer when he knows that he has 
 passed that treacherous spot ; while captain 
 and officers, though not dreading it, heave an 
 inward sigh of satisfaction as they think of it 
 far astern.
 
 COOLIES 59 
 
 But, as I was saying, everything went well 
 with us till we had passed this place. Our 
 passengers seemed an innocent, well-behaved 
 lot, albeit not over-cleanly. There were few 
 disturbances among them, and little prowling 
 in forbidden quarters, though once or twice we 
 caught two or three ugly fellows in places where 
 they had no right to be ; but as one stands on 
 no ceremony with coolies, they were somewhat 
 unceremoniously hustled back to their own 
 quarters. Yet when we were well on our voy- 
 age, and the Paracels passed, this prowling 
 about increased to an alarming extent. No 
 matter at what time of day or night you 
 happened to be about the ship, you would find 
 one of these fellows sneaking around somewhere, 
 and not unfrequently when you expostulated 
 with him, he would show his teeth. At night 
 they spread themselves across the decks in 
 such a way that you could scarcely move 
 without walking on them ; and though you 
 might tread on the faces of eleven men with 
 impunity, the twelfth might uprise and ham- 
 string you, or, with a friend or two, toss you 
 over the side, and who but themselves would be 
 the wiser ? When you have eighteen hundred
 
 60 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 of the lowest class Chinamen aboard, you must 
 not be surprised at anything. 
 
 As we drew nearer Singapore this prowling 
 about grew more general, till we were pestered 
 out of our lives. Our worthy passengers did 
 not alone frequent the after-deck, which they 
 knew they had no right to do, but they even 
 took to peeping into the saloon and cabins. 
 This was more than we could bear. Though 
 only a ' tramp/ we had our dignity, and could 
 not tolerate this setting our authority at 
 defiance. One afternoon the captain, as he 
 passed down the companion, caught a coolie, a 
 thick, one-eyed, villainous-looking fellow, making 
 his way into the saloon. Without more ado 
 the old man seized him by the pig-tail, and 
 gave him sundry sledge-hammer cuffs along- 
 side of the ear, and then sent him spinning 
 backwards with a kick. There were some 
 horrid screams and oaths, and for a moment 
 the fellow looked like fighting ; but thinking 
 better of it, he picked himself up and, growling 
 beneath his breath, slunk off. 
 
 That was the beginning of the bother. The 
 next move was one which for brazen impu- 
 dence fairly staggered me.
 
 COOLIES 61 
 
 I was keeping the first dog-watch at the 
 time. We were making good headway in a 
 smooth sea, with every prospect of reaching 
 Singapore before another forty-eight hours had 
 passed. The sky was clear, the glass set fair. 
 On the starboard bow the sun, a great golden 
 chrysanthemum, was sloping down to the west. 
 I never knew a brighter day bring in a blacker 
 night. 
 
 Presently the captain joined me on the 
 bridge, and, after making a few of the usual 
 inquiries, perched himself up in the port 
 corner, and took a good look round, I, in the 
 meantime, continuing my walk between the 
 starboard corner and the binnacle. After a 
 while he beckoned me to him. 
 
 ' I don't like the look of those damned 
 coolies,' he said. ' Have you noticed any- 
 thing ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing really suspicious, sir. They are 
 always a bad lot, of course ; but I think they 
 know how far they can go.' 
 
 He laughed. ' I Ve taught one of them a 
 lesson anyway.' And he told me what he had 
 done. 
 
 I knew the man well enough, an ugly one-
 
 62 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 eyed pig. He had been prowling about the 
 ship ever since we had left Hong Kong. 
 
 ' But the best of the joke,' continued the old 
 man seriously, as though not quite sure of the 
 humour of the thing, 'is that that one-eyed 
 cuckoo actually came up to me just now and 
 inquired if we were really going to Singapore. 
 What do you think he meant ? ' 
 
 ' I am glad we have not three or four hundred 
 like him,' I answered evasively. 'We should 
 want a detachment of soldiers to guard 
 them.' 
 
 The old man began to laugh, then stopped 
 midway, looking slickly over my shoulder. I 
 saw his eyes start as though they would jump 
 from his head. Then he bounded past me. 
 Turning round, I saw that three of our passen- 
 gers had mounted the bridge by the starboard 
 ladder, and that the leader of the trio was the 
 squat, one-eyed blackguard whom the captain 
 had thrashed that afternoon. 
 
 'Well/ yelled the skipper, who, when his 
 authority was disputed, was a fiend incarnate, 
 ' what do you want ? ' Only he embellished 
 this simple question with a whole gallery of 
 beautiful adjectives.
 
 COOLIES 63 
 
 The Chow grinned servilely, showing a row 
 of dirty yellow teeth. 
 
 ' Me likee speakee you, cap'n.' 
 
 ' You infernal ' began the old man. But 
 no. Since I cannot give the captain's impres- 
 sive language in full, it would be folly to 
 attempt any other. When the gods are angry 
 the heavens thunder and the world quakes. 
 Our captain was a god in his way, and when 
 he spoke in anger, his rage coloured the atmo- 
 sphere. He, however, gave the impudent China- 
 man to understand that the bridge was the 
 Olympus of the gods, and that neither mortals 
 nor inferior deities had any right there. The 
 one-eyed yellow man bowed and smiled. A 
 Chinaman always smiles, though the smile is 
 not always pretty. 
 
 ' Wing solly, welly solly,' he said, ' but all 
 'ee same he come top side speak along of cap'n.' 
 
 'Well,' said the old man, unbending like a 
 god, ' what the dooce do you want ? ' 
 
 ' Me no wantee go Singlaplore.' 
 
 ' Eh ? ' roared the captain, as though he 
 doubted his hearing. 
 
 ' Wing no wantee go Singlaplore side. Sab- 
 bee?'
 
 64 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ' Oh,' said the old man sarcastically, 'wouldn't 
 like to go to Singapore, eh ? Now, where 
 would you like me to take you ? Please give it 
 a name.' 
 
 This delicate irony was lost upon Wing. 
 
 ' Tonking way,' he said seriously : ' Flenchy- 
 man's China. Plenty better than Singlaplore.' 
 
 ' Sorry to disappoint you,' said the old man 
 suavely, 'but this ship's going to Singapore. 
 Now clear, damn you, clear, or I '11 break your 
 damned neck.' And, his suavity gone, he 
 strode savagely forward. The man, however, 
 did not budge, though his two companions 
 flew down the ladder, where, on the deck 
 below, half a dozen more ugly wretches awaited 
 them. 
 
 ' Are you going ? ' roared the captain, point- 
 ing down to the deck. 
 
 ' All li, all li.' 
 
 But his movements were so slow that the 
 old man's boot had to waken him up a bit. 
 
 ' Pretty cool, Anderson ? ' said he, turning to 
 me. . 
 
 ' Very, sir. I think I should put that one- 
 eyed chap in irons.' 
 
 ' Oh, I guess he 's had enough for one day,'
 
 COOLIES 65 
 
 was the laughing reply. ' You won't forget to 
 call me if you see anything ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir.' 
 
 And so away he went, an awful bully of a 
 man, but one in whom there was a lot of good 
 run wild. I know I liked him with all his 
 faults ; and though at times I could have 
 punched his head, at others I would have done 
 anything for him. 
 
 Early the next morning the mate came to 
 my berth and roughly awakened me. 
 
 ' Hallo, Joe, what the devil are you doing ? ' 
 
 I sprang up, rubbing my eyes. 
 
 ' For God's sake come on deck ! ' he whispered 
 hoarsely. ' The old man 's missing.' 
 
 ' Missing ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. Come as soon as you can.' And he 
 was gone. 
 
 In two minutes I joined him on the bridge, 
 and in the early morning light I thought his 
 face looked ghastly. 
 
 ' What is it, old chap ? ' I asked. 
 
 ' My God ! ' he whined, ' this is a nice business 
 
 and no mistake. The old man 's missing. I 
 
 went below to call him half an hour ago, and 
 
 he wasn't in his room. I have searched every- 
 
 E
 
 66 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 where, but there's not a trace of him to be 
 seen.' 
 
 'But he must be about somewhere. He 
 couldn't fall overboard.' 
 
 ' No,' said the mate in a scared voice, ' he 
 couldn't very well fall overboard ; but suppose 
 he was chucked"* ' 
 
 I started. Visions of the one-eyed Wing 
 and his villainous companions flashed before 
 me. 
 
 ' They wouldn't dare,' I stammered. 
 
 'Ah, wouldn't they. I tell you what it is, 
 Anderson, we've got the choicest crowd of 
 blackguards aboard this boat that you '11 find 
 between here and Shanghai. My God ! ' he 
 groaned, ' we may thank our stars if we don't 
 get our damned throats cut between this and 
 Singapore.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! ' I answered, disgusted at the 
 cowardice of the man. ' Let us go down and 
 fish out our revolvers, and put the engineers 
 on guard. We ought to be in Singapore to- 
 night.' 
 
 ' O my God ! ' he moaned, ' I don't think we 
 shall ever see Singapore again.' 
 
 ' Not if you let them see you in that state.
 
 COOLIES 67 
 
 I '11 go and warn the third and the engineers. 
 You keep a sharp look-out.' 
 
 'Wait a minute, Anderson. I I think 
 you 'd better not risk it.' 
 
 Knowing why he wished me to stay, I laugh- 
 ingly pooh-poohed all idea of danger. 
 
 ' Then let us have a look at the chart first.' 
 
 We went into the chart-room, which was a 
 house built on a level with the bridge, the 
 door of which was set in the back, or after- 
 part of it. Here, spread out on the top of the 
 locker, which answered the purpose of a table, 
 lay the chart, and the mate and I at once 
 began to study it. Along the chart the captain 
 had drawn our course, marking off the length 
 of each day's run, and putting the date opposite 
 it There was the addition he had made at 
 noon yesterday ; the last, I was afraid, he would 
 ever make. 
 
 'Well, Anderson, 1 said the mate, 'what do 
 you make of it ? ' 
 
 I respected his feelings. He was not a quick 
 or skilful navigator. 
 
 ' We should be abreast the lighthouse between 
 nine and ten to-night.' 
 
 ' Are you sure ? '
 
 68 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ' Work it out yourself.' 
 
 The mate did not take the hint. 
 
 'Well, let us hope you 're right, Anderson. But 
 seventeen hours ! My God, what an eternity ! ' 
 
 I was turning away from him in disgust 
 when I heard a scuffle outside by the binnacle. 
 The next moment the quartermaster, who was 
 steering, shouted loudly, ' Look out, sir ! ' I 
 had only time to spring forward, unhitch the 
 door, and slam it to when the foremost ruffian 
 threw himself upon it. 
 
 ' The window. Quick, quick ! ' I yelled to 
 the mate. 
 
 In the front of the chart-room, looking out 
 over the bridge, and so out across the bows 
 of the ship, was a window, the glass of which 
 slid in and out like a screen. There was also 
 a sliding shutter of wood outside the glass 
 again. This, luckily, the mate had seized in 
 his fright. It came to with a bang, and we 
 were safe for a while. 
 
 Save for a pale gleam of light which played 
 about the end of the window, we were in utter 
 darkness, and I could hear the mate moaning 
 as he clutched the ring of the shutter to keep 
 it in its place.
 
 COOLIES 69 
 
 ' My God ! ' he whined, ' we 're in for it now.' 
 
 Though believing he was right, I would not 
 gratify him by admitting as much. I struck 
 a match and lit the lamp which was always 
 kept in the chart-room which, in fact, the 
 mate had only put out an hour before. 
 
 'Let's see what's here,' I said, as I began 
 to search the lockers. ' Perhaps we shall find 
 something we want' 
 
 ' No dashed fear,' whined the mate. ' You 
 never find a thing when you want it.' And 
 he began to feebly curse his star, the mother 
 who bore him, and all things beneath the sun. 
 The way he blasphemed in his terror might 
 have been amusing were it not for its extreme 
 pathos. 
 
 And yet on opening the second small drawer 
 I discovered a revolver the captain's I knew 
 it to be which I held delightedly before my 
 companion's eyes. 
 
 ' There,' I cried, ' what do you think of this ? ' 
 
 For a moment a ray of hope brightened his 
 dull eyes. Then a gloomy look leapt into 
 them. 
 
 ' It would just be my dashed luck if it wasn't 
 loaded.'
 
 70 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 An icy wind swept across my heart. 
 
 ' It 's not,' I said, after examining it. 
 
 ' I thought as much,' he added consolingly. 
 
 But there might be cartridges somewhere in 
 the locker! I searched high and low but without 
 success. Two of the big drawers were filled 
 with charts, the other one with nautical odds 
 and ends, among which I noticed a battered 
 compass, a coil of india-rubber tubing, an old 
 sextant, and one barrel of a pair of glasses. 
 But not a cartridge : not even the shell of one. 
 
 The mate looked at me despairingly : a look 
 of blank, unutterable terror. 
 
 ' My God ! we 're done for,' he wailed. ' These 
 devils will rip us up, Anderson, and then chuck 
 us overboard.' 
 
 ' They may do what they like with me when I 
 am dead,' I answered ; ' but I 'm not dead yet.' 
 
 'No, but you soon will be. I know them, 
 Anderson. They're devils, fiends incarnate. 
 They '11 torture us, I tell you torture us, by 
 God. They '11 cut us into strips and grill 
 them before our eyes.' 
 
 ' Damn you, shut up ! ' I shouted, as a wild 
 sensation of frizzling ran down my backbone. 
 ' It 's bad enough to know those devils are
 
 COOLIES 71 
 
 prowling about unchecked, without being 
 plagued with your confounded croaking. If 
 you can't suggest a way out of this, you had 
 better hold your row.' 
 
 Remembering his dignity, that he was my 
 superior officer, he tried to look offended ; but 
 the time and place forbade any outburst. In- 
 deed, the rap which came upon the shutter at 
 that moment knocked all the dignity out of 
 him. 
 
 ' Wha-at 's that ? ' he gasped. 
 
 ' Our friends want to come in.' 
 
 ' Don't budge, Anderson ; my God ! don't 
 budge.' 
 
 ' But, my dear sir, we can't stay here all day. 
 Let us see what they want.' 
 
 He implored, he entreated ; but quietly 
 shoving him aside, I flung back the shutter. 
 Wing, the one-eyed coolie, who seemed to be 
 the ringleader, and three others immediately 
 sprang forward ; but in an instant they drew 
 up sharp, for I had covered them with my 
 empty revolver. 
 
 1 Well,' I said, ' what is all this about ? Do 
 you know that this means hanging when we 
 get to Singapore ? '
 
 72 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 The one-eyed rascal grinned in his oily, un- 
 pleasant fashion, and I knew by the way he 
 was hitching his trousers behind that he was 
 hiding a knife. But I caught no glimpse of 
 a revolver, for which I was devoutly thankful. 
 My own harmless weapon had an evident effect 
 upon them. 
 
 ' Me plenty sabbee,' he grinned, ' but me no 
 go Singlaplore. Singlaplore too muchee no 
 good. Me wantee speakee mate. He all the 
 same belong cap'n now.' 
 
 ' They want to speak to you,' I said. ' Come, 
 don't let them think you 're frightened.' 
 
 ' My God ! ' he whispered, ' I 'm not frightened.' 
 But it was a wretched, craven face he turned 
 to the pirates. 
 
 The one-eyed scoundrel bowed. 
 
 ' Good mornin', cap'n,' he said. ' You all 
 the same belong cap'n now. Udder cap'n, he 
 say he wantee go Singlaplore. This ship no 
 go Singlaplore. Udder cap'n, he say he will 
 go Singlaplore, so he jumpee overboard to 
 swimee-swimee. Sabbee ? Suppose new cap'n, 
 he wantee go Singlaplore, he also have to 
 swimee-swimee. Sabbee ? ' 
 
 The mate's face grew livid with terror.
 
 COOLIES 73 
 
 ' What do you want ? ' he groaned. 
 
 ' No wantee this ship go Singlaplore. Singla- 
 plore too muchee dam swingee-swingee,' and 
 he encircled his ugly neck with an imaginary 
 noose. ' Me wantee go Flenchyman's China. 
 New cap'n, he find nice spot, takee ship there, 
 Wing let him go flee, new cap'n, he no takee 
 ship there, Wing slit him thloat.' 
 
 ' My God, Anderson ! ' groaned the mate, 
 'what shall we do? These devils have got 
 possession of the ship. They'll slit our damned 
 throats as sure as eggs.' 
 
 ' Let them slit and be damned,' I answered 
 angrily. ' Of one thing you may be sure, they 're 
 not to be trusted. It's only a ruse to get us 
 out of this. You may go if you like. I don't. 
 That villain, Wing as he calls himself, knows 
 well enough how to steer to pick up the coast 
 of Cochin China. Look here,' and I unhitched 
 the little compass that hung at my watch-chain, 
 ' we 're steering west by north now.' 
 
 My companion looked thunderstruck. 
 
 ' We 're fast getting out of the track of ships,' 
 he said. ' Anderson, we 're lost.' 
 
 ' Not yet. Tell them you will think over their 
 proposal. I have an idea.'
 
 74 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 The mate did as he was bidden, and I 
 pulled the shutter to. 
 
 That the engines should be running freely all 
 this time betokened one of two things : that 
 either the engineers were unconscious of what 
 had happened above deck, or that they had all 
 been overpowered and the engines were run- 
 ning unattended. If the latter were the case, I 
 knew we should not go long without a dread- 
 ful breakdown ; if the former, there was still 
 some hope, for those three sturdy Scotsmen 
 in the engine-room were worth half a dozen 
 men. 
 
 In the left-hand corner of the chart-room was 
 a metal speaking-tube which led down into the 
 engine-room, but which I had never seen any 
 one use. In fact, I did not know if it was in 
 working order, for there was not even a whistle 
 in the orifice. However, there was the faint 
 hope that there might be one in the other end. 
 As I leant over it I could distinctly hear the 
 clank, clank of the engines. But there was, un- 
 fortunately, no whistle for me to sound the alarm 
 upon. I halloed, I roared, I whistled down it, 
 but in vain. Nothing but the monotonous clank, 
 clank of the engines greeted my ear.
 
 COOLIES 75 
 
 In the meantime the rascals outside were 
 growing impatient. They tapped at the shutter, 
 rapped loudly on the door, even tried to burst it 
 in ; but like all ships' doors it opened outwards, 
 so that the task they set themselves was not an 
 easy one. Still, I knew that we could not hold 
 the place for long, and I felt a queer shudder 
 run down my back as I thought of the squat, 
 one-eyed villain, the master of my fate. I turned 
 despairingly to the speaking-tube. Our only 
 chance of salvation was through those sturdy 
 Scotsmen. If they failed us, or were prisoners, 
 we were as good as lost. 
 
 As I placed my ear to the tube I heard the 
 voice of our second engineer, Duncan Macpher- 
 son, cry out, ' Hallo, there ! What the de'il 's 
 the matter wi' them? Goodness, goodness, 
 goodness ! ' And then he began to shriek and 
 whistle like a madman. 
 
 ' Duncan, Duncan,' I cried, as soon as he had 
 stopped his noise. 
 
 1 Ay, man, it 's me,' came up the answer. ' So 
 ye 're there ? I Ve been tryin' to speak to ye for 
 the last half-hour. What 's the matter ? ' 
 
 ' The ship is in the hands of the coolies. The 
 captain has been killed ; the mate and I are in
 
 76 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 the chart-room, prisoners. Have you any one 
 with you ? ' 
 
 'Only the third, and the third officer. The 
 chief went up an hour ago, and I 'm afraid 
 they Ve nabbed him. Can't ye get out of the 
 house and make a rush for it ? ' 
 
 ' We have no arms of any description. The 
 pirates swarm the bridge. They are even now 
 trying to force the door.' 
 
 'Dear, dear! and it's almost as bad wi' us. 
 They tried to rush us here, but we managed to 
 shut them out. Every time I look up I see a 
 dirty face peerin' down through the gratin'.' 
 
 A pause followed, during which the monoton- 
 ous clank, clank of the engines was mixed with 
 the scratchings and scrapings on the wood out- 
 side. Presently the voice came again. 
 
 ' Are ye there, Anderson ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' I Ve been thinkin' that if ye could only use 
 this speakin'-tube in some way or other, I could 
 send ye up a beautiful jet of hot water that 
 would peel the skin off any blasted pirate 
 between hell and Hong Kong.' 
 
 ' It can't be done,' I added despairingly. ' The 
 pipe only rises a foot above the locker. It
 
 COOLIES 77 
 
 would be no use. We should scald our- 
 selves.' 
 
 'Ah, now, if ye only had a nice length of 
 tubin' ye might do somethin'.' 
 
 My heart gave a quick throb. I remembered 
 the piece in the locker. When I told him of it 
 he said, ' Verra weel. When ye have fixed it 
 on, just ye whistle down and let me know. 5 
 
 In a moment I had the tubing out of the 
 locker, and to my delight found that it was in 
 splendid preservation, and some nine or ten 
 feet in length. To unscrew the wooden cup 
 and fix the tube over the pipe was done with a 
 rapidity which must have astonished the mate, 
 who, pale and speechless, stood clinging to the 
 ring of the shutter. In the drawer, which was 
 full of odds and ends, I found plenty of good 
 stout lashing, and with this I securely bound 
 the tubing to the pipe. 
 
 I do not think the whole business could have 
 taken more than half a minute ; yet short as it 
 was the blows upon the chart-house redoubled, 
 as though our assailants were trying to beat in 
 the door with hammers or axes. There was no 
 time to be lost. I whistled down the tube and 
 told the engineer I was ready.
 
 78 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 1 Verra weel,' he answered. ' Just look out 
 that ye dinna scald yoursel.' 
 
 I held the nozzle of the tube towards the 
 door. 
 
 ' Now,' I said to the mate, ' when I say the 
 word, you fling open the window. I think we 
 have a very pretty surprise in store for them.' 
 
 ' If it comes off/ he answered. ' But you 
 know, there is many a slip 'twixt cup and lip.' 
 
 I felt like pointing the hose at him and 
 giving him the first dose, but at that moment 
 my attention was arrested by a curious smoky 
 smell which came in from under the door. 
 
 ' Look, look,' shrieked the mate, ' they 're 
 going to burn us out ! ' and he fairly jumped 
 with terror. 
 
 ' Not at all,' I answered, enjoying the joke in 
 a deadly sort of way, 'they 're going to smoke us 
 out.' 
 
 1 And that Ning-po varnish burns like hell.' 
 He was referring to the new coat of varnish we 
 had but lately given the deckhouses. ' Oh, my 
 God, my God ! ' he moaned, ' why did I ever 
 come to sea ? ' 
 
 I wondered why, though I had scant time for 
 wonder. With almost incredible swiftness the
 
 COOLIES 79 
 
 smoke grew in volume, a thick, pungent smoke 
 which proclaimed the use of tar. Presently the 
 crackling of wood was heard. I knew it would 
 not be long before the house was ablaze. And 
 still no message from below ! Had anything 
 happened ? Had the engineer's calculations in 
 any way proved faulty? The mate groaned 
 and moaned, mixing his supplications to heaven 
 with strings of the most abandoned oaths. It 
 was horrible to hear him, even more horrible to 
 see him as he shrank back closer and closer in 
 the corner, his face ghastly, his eyes vacant with 
 terror. A little more of it and I knew he would 
 be a raving madman. Well, poor devil, so 
 much the better for him. Before this day was 
 over I might have cause to envy him such a 
 merciful stroke of Providence. 
 
 My eyes stung with the smoke : I knew that 
 I was inhaling it in great mouthfuls. I 
 developed a sudden coughing and sneezing. 
 The mate, I believed, was already half-uncon- 
 scious. What with the smoke and my streaming 
 eyes I could scarcely see him. The situation 
 was becoming intolerable. And still no sign 
 from the engineer ! Had he failed in his 
 attempt ?
 
 8o YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 At the thought the cold perspiration oozed 
 out of me, and for a moment or two my faculties 
 were numbed. Pulling myself together with a 
 great effort I turned to the mate to tell him 
 to open the window for it was better to die 
 by the knives of the pirates than be choked 
 in this fashion when I felt the hose in my 
 hand tremble. A moment's acute suspense ; 
 then followed a sudden hissing of wind, and out 
 spluttered a torrent of steam and boiling water. 
 
 ' Open, open ! ' I cried excitedly. 
 
 With a last effort, and like a man in a dream, 
 the mate swung back the shutter, and then fell 
 senseless to the floor. 
 
 In an instant a dozen hideous, grinning 
 wretches, bared knives in their hands, rushed to 
 the aperture, the one-eyed scoundrel, Wing, to 
 the fore. The next moment he threw himself 
 back with a horrible shriek, for I had turned 
 the hose fair in his face, and the steam and 
 boiling water had blinded and scalded him. 
 The others stopped, surprised, awestruck ; but 
 before they had time to realise the situation, I 
 served three or four others in a similar manner. 
 These set up a horrible screaming, struggling 
 fiercely to get away ; but before the bridge was
 
 COOLIES 81 
 
 cleared of them a dozen at least were howling 
 with pain. 
 
 Once the bridge was clear I opened the door 
 of the chart-room and extinguished the flames, 
 which were rapidly getting a good hold of the 
 woodwork. This I did by means of the invalu- 
 able hose. Then, looking away aft, a curious 
 sight met my gaze. The fellows whom I had 
 scalded had all fled to the after-part of the ship, 
 where they were joined by about twenty or 
 thirty others, the whole lot, by the way they 
 shrieked and gesticulated, evidently being in a 
 state of great excitement. Then suddenly out 
 of the engine-room skylight I saw the head and 
 shoulders of the second engineer rise. In one 
 hand he held the big brass nozzle of our fire 
 hose. The next moment it spouted out a 
 perfect torrent of steam and boiling water. The 
 engineer clambered out on to the deck and 
 coolly walked towards the mutineers. About 
 twenty yards off he stood and directed the 
 scalding flood upon them. Some ran this way 
 and that way, others dashed madly past him 
 with fearful shrieks, but I doubt if a single one 
 escaped a horrible scalding. 
 
 After that we had no more trouble with our 
 F
 
 82 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 passengers. The ringleaders were all ironed 
 and handed over to the authorities at Singapore, 
 which port we reached in the early hours of the 
 following day. About a month afterwards six 
 of them, including the one-eyed Wing, who had 
 been nearly scalded to death, ' suffered the ex- 
 treme penalty of the law.' 
 
 Our mate, thanks to the energetic manner in 
 which he had suppressed the outbreak, was at 
 once given command of the ship.
 
 OSHIMA 
 
 OSHIMA was born and bred in the town of 
 Nagasaki, and to her knowledge she had never 
 been ten miles beyond its borders. Ever since 
 she could remember, her eyes had looked upon 
 nothing but the green hills about her, the 
 familiar streets, and the beautiful bay into 
 which the great European ships came for coal. 
 Often she watched them come in, and often, 
 with an indefinable sadness, beheld them steal 
 away again, away out into the ocean, beyond 
 which, so they told her, lay China, and beyond 
 that again, thousands and thousands of miles 
 away, the country of the foreigner. Sometimes, 
 when the days were fine, she would get her 
 rickshaw man to run her out to the cliffs, from 
 the top of which she would sit watching the 
 sea-birds as they darted hither and thither on 
 their wings of white lightning, or she would 
 count the junks as they rounded the headland
 
 84 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 and came tearing in through the narrow en- 
 trance. Occasionally a steamer hove in sight, 
 the progress of which she would watch with 
 breathless interest, almost with awe, as it came 
 rushing up out of the sea, a great black monster 
 belching clouds of smoke. But she felt saddest 
 of all when she saw the ships steam away, for 
 every throb of the screw, which she could hear 
 plainly where she sat, sent a throb through her 
 own breast. It was sad to see the great thing 
 steal away across the endless water, sad to see 
 it sink, sink till no vestige of it was left. No 
 wonder the heart of it throbbed at such a fate. 
 Oshima thought the ships sailed away never to 
 return. Where they went she had no idea ; 
 but it seemed as though the sea-god took them 
 in tow and led them away, away to his great 
 sea-kingdoms. And whenever she toddled up 
 to the great Shinto temple on the hill she 
 prayed devoutly, in her own innocent way, for 
 those who go down to the sea in ships. 
 
 But Oshima's days of dreaming were soon to 
 end, and with their ending was to come her 
 revelation. She was now seventeen, taller than 
 the average Japanese woman, plump of figure, 
 with a plumpness peculiar to the daughters of
 
 O S H I M A 85 
 
 the Far East. Through the clear olive skin of 
 her face the blood showed like damask roses. 
 She had the dearest little nose in the world, 
 saucily tip-tilted, a rosebud of a mouth, teeth as 
 white and dazzling as the snows on Fusi-yama, 
 the Great Fire Mountain. Taken altogether, 
 Oshima was the prettiest girl in Nagasaki, and 
 as such had entirely enslaved the heart of 
 O-Saru, the rich coalowner he who employed 
 hundreds in his mines, and hundreds more 
 to coal the great ships in the bay. When he 
 expressed the wish to take Oshima to keep 
 house for him, who was she that she should 
 demur ? And yet her heart did not go out to 
 O-Saru, though he was rich and great in the 
 land. For his hair was thin and grey, his face 
 wrinkled like a monkey's, and he was bent 
 double with years and a long poring over 
 accounts. But Oshima was a dutiful daughter ; 
 one who perfectly understood that obedience is 
 the first attribute of her sex. 
 
 ' It is well that thou shouldst marry,' said the 
 mother, ' and keep house for thy honourable 
 lord, O-Saru, even as thy mother went to keep 
 house for thy august father. Thy honourable 
 lord, O-Saru, is a great lord, and he will guard
 
 86 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 thee carefully as the virtuous wife should be 
 guarded. See, then, that thou tenderest him all 
 honour and obedience, for the disobedient wife 
 is accursed of God and man.' 
 
 So, full of the most noble precepts, Oshima 
 departed with her new lord, and if at times she 
 sighed for that which she had not, her Eastern 
 mind, being more or less fatalistic, saw the will 
 of providence in the ordering of her life, and 
 against the authority of heaven who shall dare 
 rebel? In his own way O-Saru was good to 
 her, but the way of the Eastern husband is 
 not that of the Western. The woman with him 
 is still but a part of his personal effects, and 
 Oshima was too well brought up to expect any 
 treatment but that which her honourable lord 
 was pleased to mete out to her. In her was all 
 the reverence for her husband which, according 
 to the tenets of Japanese morality, is the most 
 essential attribute of women. That Oshima 
 possessed this excellent attribute all Nagasaki 
 knew, nor could O-Saru shake her simple faith 
 in him though he drank sake till he could not 
 walk. It takes either years of hard driving, or 
 a lightning shock, to awaken the Eastern mind 
 to consciousness.
 
 O S H I M A 87 
 
 And so for a twelvemonth Oshima kept house 
 for her lord as only a Japanese woman can, and 
 while he went about his coolies and his ledgers, 
 she went about her dreamings. For hours she 
 would sit watching the great ships down in the 
 bay, thinking of the strange white-faced people 
 who worked them, and of their homes far away 
 in the sunset. She could also see, as they 
 swarmed in shoals up the great sides of the 
 ships, the women who coaled the vessels. 
 These she pitied, in a vague sort of way, having 
 a half-suspicion that such degrading work was 
 not for women. But she had grown accustomed 
 to the sight ; moreover, those very women whom 
 she pitied were employed by no less a per- 
 sonage than her own lord, O-Saru. Hundreds 
 more, they said, worked down in the mines, 
 horrid, dark places, in which no plum-tree or 
 chrysanthemum ever bloomed, and into which 
 no ray of sunshine ever pierced. Oshima 
 shuddered as she thought of the horror of such 
 a life, and then looked at her own dainty child- 
 like hands, with their pink nails and pinker 
 palms. What if fate had made her one. of the 
 coolie class ? 
 
 She woke from her dream with a start,
 
 88 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 conscious of a strange presence. She looked 
 up suddenly and blushed all over. There before 
 her, blocking the view with his broad figure, 
 stood a Stranger. A little scream escaped her, 
 and she hurriedly began to fumble her feet into 
 her sandals. The Stranger advanced smiling 
 and touched his hat 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' he said, trying to look 
 contrite. ' I hope I haven't startled you ? ' 
 
 Oshima, who understood a few words of 
 English, guessed the drift of his remarks, and for 
 some inexplicable reason blushed more violently 
 than ever. The Stranger advanced still closer. 
 
 ' I come from the ship down in the harbour/ 
 he went on by way of explanation, pointing to 
 a big yellow-funnel boat which had just come 
 in that morning. 'We've had a bad break- 
 down with our machinery, and I want to see 
 Mr. O-Saru.' 
 
 ' Mr. O-Saru he go out.' 
 
 ' Ah ! then you do speak English ? This is a 
 stroke of luck.' 
 
 ' Me no speak English.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't you though, and the prettiest 
 English I 've heard for many a day.' 
 
 There was such open admiration in the
 
 O S H I M A 89 
 
 Stranger's look, that poor Oshima grew horribly 
 confused. She glanced this way and that in 
 the vain hope of succour, her innate politeness 
 forbidding her to cut a precipitous retreat. 
 She looked up beseechingly into the handsome 
 face before her, but the gaze she encountered 
 made her flutter more than ever. At last, in 
 sheer desperation, she turned to him with a 
 pretty ' skoose me,' and toddled towards the 
 house. He called to her, but she only hurried 
 on. He would have followed had he not feared 
 to frighten her. As it was, he stood watching 
 the curious little flying figure till it disappeared 
 in the house. 
 
 For quite a minute, the Stranger stood star- 
 ing after her with an amused, puzzled expres- 
 sion of face. Then he turned away with a 
 laugh, and a look of determination about the 
 corners of his mouth. Down the long garden 
 he passed, his heart now beating with every 
 beat of his brain. Never had he seen such a 
 native woman, never had he imagined such a 
 beauty could exist. Who was she, what was 
 she doing in O-Saru's garden, dreaming in the 
 sunshine ? At any rate, he had decided to make 
 many an excuse for visiting the house of O-Saru.
 
 90 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 As he reached the gate, he turned once more to 
 look back the way he had come, and though 
 unconscious of the fact that a pair of eager 
 eyes were watching him from behind a shutter, 
 he felt that he had not seen the last of the fairy 
 in the blue kimono. 
 
 As for Oshima, fluttering all over, she entered 
 the house with a sigh of relief, though, ere she 
 had stayed a moment to catch her breath, she 
 sprang to the nearest window, from behind the 
 shutters of which she watched the big Stranger. 
 She saw him stand there, irresolute, saw him 
 stand till she thought he would never go ; 
 though when he did, he seemed to take her 
 heart with him. She had looked into his eyes, 
 eyes the strangest she had ever seen, though 
 she had heard of foreigners whose "hair was 
 golden and whose eyes were blue. And now 
 one had appeared to her in the flesh, a beauti- 
 ful strange god ; and he had drawn her soul 
 from her, and carried it away in those bits of 
 heaven which were so like human eyes. And 
 when he was gone, she went down into the 
 garden again, and sat in the sunshine amid 
 the roses, and tried to dream once more. And 
 dream she did, though the glorious apparition
 
 OSHIMA 91 
 
 failed to come again. But for the rest of that 
 day she rarely took her eyes off the big ship 
 with the yellow funnel. 
 
 That evening the Stranger dined with 
 O-Saru, who was lavish of his hospitality 
 when he saw a fair return, and out of his 
 guest he hoped to reap a substantial harvest. 
 The big ship with the yellow funnel had been 
 towed into the bay that morning, her machinery 
 broken down, and it was not expected that she 
 would be ready for sea for over a week. This 
 meant the employment of considerable labour, 
 labour which O-Saru would provide. It also 
 meant three thousand tons of coal for the ship, 
 when she sailed away, coal which O-Saru would 
 provide. The Stranger was therefore treated 
 with double honour. 
 
 All through the meal, which was served in 
 the approved Japanese fashion, he kept his 
 eyes open for a sight of the face which had 
 haunted him all day. He closely scanned the 
 female servants as they went noiselessly to and 
 fro, till, getting desperate, he turned to his 
 host. 
 
 ' Your wife, O-Saru you have not introduced 
 me.'
 
 92 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ' My wife is very young and foolish. She is 
 not accustomed to the ways of your people.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! What are the ways of my 
 people that she should be afraid of me ? ' 
 
 ' It is not the custom of the Japanese wife to 
 sit with her husband's guests.' 
 
 The Stranger thought the old man bent upon 
 making excuses ; he therefore became equally 
 resolute to see her, and in the end triumphed. 
 After one of the servants had brought them 
 the honourable tea in odd little cups without 
 handles, and the Stranger had lit a cigar, O-Saru 
 preferring the kiseru, or native pipe, Oshima 
 herself entered with a modest little curtsey. 
 The Stranger was on the point of springing to 
 his feet, of paying the homage he wished, but 
 the presence of O-Saru restrained him. He 
 sat quietly, pulling hard at his cigar. The old 
 man smoked on indifferently, though out of 
 the corners of his beady little eyes he watched 
 the Stranger narrowly. 
 
 Oshima wore a rich yellow kimono of the 
 choicest silk, patterned all over with odd-look- 
 ing birds and trees. A sash of scarlet, em- 
 broidered with pale blue, spanned her waist, 
 and was tied in a huge bunch at the back. Her
 
 O S H I M A 93 
 
 tunic was of lavender silk, glimpses of which 
 might be caught at the neck, or as she swung 
 her legs in the dance. Her hair was modelled 
 in the most approved butterfly shape, plastered 
 up till she seemed to have a head twice too big 
 for her little body. In her hair she had stuck 
 little! paper fans, combs of tortoise-shell, and 
 pins of coral and mother-of-pearl. Altogether 
 a wonderful little body. 
 
 The Stranger thought the gold of her dress 
 paled her face too much, but it added a thought- 
 ful, half-sad tone to it, which was indescribably 
 fascinating. 
 
 'Will Madame sing for us?' asked the 
 Stranger. 
 
 O-Saru took three solemn puffs, then mum- 
 bled something in his own language without 
 looking up. Oshima bowed low and retired. 
 The Stranger opened his eyes ; but before he 
 had time to wonder, she returned bearing two 
 bottles of august sak/, one of which she opened 
 and offered to her lord, who gulped the liquor 
 down with relish. The Stranger merely sipped 
 his. Then the old fellow growled out another 
 order, and Oshima again disappeared, reappear- 
 ing this time with her samisen, or native guitar,
 
 94 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 in her hand. Smiling, she curtseyed to the 
 Stranger, as though asking his permission to 
 proceed ; a permission he did not long with- 
 hold 
 
 What she sang he didn't know, nor under 
 ordinary circumstances would he have found 
 
 *- 
 
 anything particularly interesting in the very 
 peculiar manner in which the native sings ; but 
 there was something very tender and pathetic 
 in the tinkling, wailing cadence which she so 
 charmingly chanted. 
 
 When she had finished, the Stranger ap- 
 plauded gravely, but with evident sincerity, 
 while old O-Saru, who had been busy pouring 
 the honourable sake down his august throat, 
 shook his head as though not altogether approv- 
 ing of the business. He evidently was no great 
 admirer of sentiment, for the song had been 
 all about ghost-brides and loved dead faces. 
 O-Saru did not like ghosts, though the way he 
 drank the sake showed that he had no detesta- 
 tion of spirits. 
 
 Presently he growled out another command. 
 In a moment Oshima was on her feet, and after 
 curtseying to her lord, she bowed low to the 
 Stranger. Then striking her samiseu, to keep
 
 O S H I M A 95 
 
 time to her movements, she went through 
 sundry graceful evolutions, which by courtesy 
 are called a dance. O-Saru liked this better. 
 His beady eyes beamed benevolently upon the 
 swaying figure, and his face, already flushed, 
 wreathed itself with drunken smiles. He 
 pledged his wife in a full cup of honourable 
 sak. 
 
 When Oshima ceased dancing, the Stranger 
 rose and went over to her, and as he asked for 
 the loan of her samisen, his eyes once more 
 sought hers. Again she looked into those 
 strange bits of blue sky, and a violent throb- 
 bing seized her. The blood sprang furiously 
 to her pale face. 
 
 Softly the Stranger returned to his seat by 
 the side of O-Saru, who, fuddled with drink, 
 was already half-asleep, and tuning up the 
 samisen to suit his voice, he sang, in a soft sweet 
 tenor, his best beloved English songs. In a 
 very short time the worthy O-Saru was lying 
 back on his cushions, entirely oblivious of 
 Strangers and sweet melodies ; but his guest 
 sang on in his low cooing voice, a voice that 
 drew the soul of Oshima out of her. With 
 wide, fascinated eyes she sat watching him, her
 
 96 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 red lips partly open, as though drinking in 
 every note. And when he finished, and a low 
 melodious finish it was, an unconscious sigh 
 slid from her startled mouth. A throb, as of 
 sympathy, shook the Stranger's being to its 
 foundations. He rose softly and walked to- 
 wards her, offering his hand. For a moment 
 she seemed to hesitate ; then looked nervously 
 at O-Saru, and then up at him. The Stranger 
 smiled reassuringly, and together they quitted 
 the room. 
 
 Round about the garden they walked, the 
 moonlight making of the night a softer day, and 
 by the rose-tree near the bower, where he had 
 first seen her, he stopped for a moment to pluck 
 one of the beautiful blooms, and as he set it 
 in her breast, he kissed her, and told her it was 
 not half as sweet as her sweet mouth, upon 
 which he had lingered lovingly ; and though 
 she did not wholly comprehend the meaning of 
 the words, she understood enough to know that 
 he was paying her a compliment. Again and 
 again she held up her mouth, for though she 
 had never kissed till that night, she soon grew 
 to love this strange foreign custom. And so 
 with arms about each other, they talked away
 
 O S H I M A 97 
 
 in the moonlight, the air heavy with the scent 
 of the rose and the honeysuckle, and made 
 musical by the tinkling of the bells in the great 
 Shinto temple on the hills, or the soft notes of 
 the samisen struck by some wandering geisha. 
 Below, in a flood of silver, lay the bay, upon 
 the shimmering bosom of which floated the 
 great black ships, their riding lights flashing out 
 like golden stars. And as her eyes sought the 
 spot where rode the great yellow-funnel boat, 
 a shiver swept through her, and, with an implor- 
 ing look in her eyes, she nestled closer to the 
 Stranger. 
 
 And so every night for one delicious week 
 they met, she stealing down into the garden 
 after she had patiently watched O-Saru fall 
 into his drunken sleep ; and there, in the old 
 rose-bower that she had got to love so well, she 
 would see him standing him, the lord of her 
 soul. 
 
 But one night, as Oshima lay in his arms, a 
 shadow fell athwart the moon, and there, with 
 fury in his face and a drawn sword in his hand, 
 stood O-Saru. With a shriek Oshima turned 
 to fly, but quick as thought the husband seized 
 her and forced her to her knees. The Stranger 
 G
 
 98 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 sprang forward, but O-Saru's formidable sword 
 blocked the way. 
 
 ' Go,' he hissed, his ugly face distorted with 
 rage, ' go or me kill, you devil, me kill.' 
 
 Unarmed, the Stranger stood irresolute, 
 though he was not without some sense of the 
 fitness of things. 
 
 ' Go, go,' wailed Oshima, wringing her hands 
 with terror, ' sayonara, sayonara' 
 
 1 No, not good-bye,' he cried, ' not good-bye, 
 Oshima. I will come to you with the sunlight, 
 dearest' 
 
 Irresolute still he turned on his heel ; then 
 he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. 
 There in the moonlight knelt Oshima, her frame 
 shaking with sobs : above her, looking more 
 hideous and monkey-like than ever, towered 
 the gaunt form of the wrathful O-Saru. With 
 a sigh on his lips, but madness in his heart, the 
 Stranger passed away in the night. 
 
 He called at O-Saru's house next day, but 
 there was no Oshima to greet him. He made 
 numerous inquiries, he even went so far as to 
 question O-Saru himself, but all to no purpose. 
 No one knew what had become of her, while he 
 who did would not speak. But on the morning
 
 OSHIMA 99 
 
 that the yellow- funnel boat put out to sea, 
 O-Saru's clerk, who was one of the last to leave, 
 whispered something in the Stranger's ear that 
 drove the blood from his face. He clutched 
 the rail to steady himself, he tried to speak, 
 but before he could utter a word the clerk had 
 run down the ladder and had pushed off in 
 his sampan. 
 
 ' O-Saru has banished Oshima to the mines ! ' 
 The Stranger repeated the dreadful words 
 like one in whom the sense of things was 
 numbed. Oshima the fairy, the little bundle 
 of dainty loveliness ! Oh, it was horrible ! As 
 the engines began to throb and the great ship 
 slid grandly towards the open sea, he almost 
 shrieked aloud in his agony. Swiftly the 
 green shore receded, the sun rose higher and 
 higher over the beautiful land ; but he knew 
 that never again would Oshima tread the rose- 
 strewn garden, or see the sun shine, or watch 
 the chrysanthemum bloom.
 
 SADA 
 
 SHE was only one of the dancing-girls of No. 9, 
 the notorious No. 9 of Yokohama ; yet when 
 Curston saw her for the first time, though she 
 danced the keena with all the energy of resist- 
 less flesh she and half a dozen other naked 
 girls he fell in love with her, ay, fell in love as 
 honestly as Christian man ever fell in love with 
 Christian woman. The time, the place, the 
 shameful dance, the nude women, were all 
 against the likelihood of such a thing happen- 
 ing; but then Curston always was a queer 
 fellow, not a bit like any one else. We invariably 
 spoke of him as ' the parson/ and used to say 
 that not as a moneygrubber should he have 
 entered Japan, but as a missionary. Not that 
 he was goody-goody, or had any particular 
 attachment for the commandments ; but in 
 himself he was good a precious seed dropped 
 
 among the refuse of a dunghill. Of course it 
 100
 
 SAD A 101 
 
 was not possible that we should understand 
 such a man. I don't know that we ever really 
 tried. Curston was a decent enough fellow, to 
 be sure, but who was he that we should exalt 
 him ? We naturally never thought of doing such 
 a thing. The man who suggested it would 
 have been howled at : Curston himself would 
 have laughed at him. We were all very ordinary 
 young fellows, who ate, drank, and slept as do 
 the generality of our kind, thanking the gods 
 for the small gifts they may provide. 
 
 But Curston was different. To him life 
 seemed anything but the wine-bibbing, guitar- 
 strumming existence we tried to make it. Not 
 that he was not wicked enough at times. In- 
 deed, in drink, I have seen him do some things 
 before which a much greater sinner might 
 hesitate ; but the oddest and most disgusting 
 thing about him was that he never seemed to 
 enjoy his wickedness. He always went wrong 
 under protest, a protest which we naturally 
 scouted, having scant faith in it or him. And 
 yet we might have seen, had we had intelligence 
 enough, or had we taken the trouble to think, 
 that there was a stratum of goodness in the 
 man which proclaimed the honesty of his
 
 102 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 breeding, or the natural sense of goodness which 
 was born in him. But those were not days in 
 which thought troubled us much. We only 
 looked at the outside of things, content to 
 guess the contents of the case by the packing. 
 Nor was it likely that we should take him 
 seriously, seeing that he did the things we did, 
 knowing them to be wrong. It was therefore 
 reasonable to suggest that Curston was one 
 of two things : a very weak man, or a very 
 great hypocrite. We preferred to think the 
 latter. 
 
 He entered the room that night under pro- 
 test, and as the girls flung their naked limbs 
 about I could see the disgust mantling in clouds 
 upon his face. As I looked at him something 
 touched me, touched my heart, my conscience 
 something I did not like ; but I crushed it 
 down with a hard laugh. 
 
 ' What's the matter, parson ? ' I cried. ' Don't 
 you like the picture ! Isn't it suggestive 
 enough ? ' 
 
 ' I think it 's disgusting, beastly,' he answered. 
 1 These poor devils/ and he nodded to the girls, 
 who were all suggestion and grimace, ' don't 
 know any better, don't want to know better.
 
 S A D A 103 
 
 But we are different, Johnson, and ought to be 
 jolly well ashamed of ourselves.' 
 
 A shout of laughter greeted this little out- 
 burst, which so disconcerted Curston that he 
 sprang hotly to his feet, saying, ' I Ve had 
 enough of this, boys. Each man to his own 
 taste, you know. If this sort of thing suits you 
 you 're welcome to it. I 'm off.' 
 
 ' Won't you give us a sermon before you go ? ' 
 said one. 
 
 ' Perhaps the ladies would take kindly to a 
 little spiritual consolation,' suggested another. 
 ' They always do at home.' 
 
 ' Wouldst thou leave thy lambs to the mercy 
 of these ravening wolves ? ' laughed a third. 
 
 Curston's face grew very dark, but there was 
 a grim look about it bespeaking great deter- 
 mination. He looked us keenly up and down, 
 one after the other. What my companions felt 
 I know not probably they did not look under 
 the skin ; but there was a lofty, uncanny look 
 in his eyes which made me feel decidedly 
 uncomfortable. I almost hated him for his 
 superiority, or his assumption of it : for his in- 
 difference to that which set our more material 
 souls aglow. That look of contempt was one
 
 104 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 which rankled deeply, deeper than I cared 
 about admitting even to myself. It would need 
 accounting for in some way or other. 
 
 From us he turned to the girls, languishing in 
 the dance, and over his face swept a look of 
 pity indescribable. Then suddenly interest took 
 the place of pity as his eyes lighted on Sada, 
 the leader of the dance, the incarnation of 
 voluptuousness. Flesh pink-tinted with exer- 
 tion, eyes languorous, limbs perfect in their 
 symmetry. Such was Sada the dancing-girl, 
 the geisha the unspeakable. Her eyes, too, 
 sought his pale face, and as if fascinated by it, 
 she drew nearer and nearer him, he, by a 
 similar species of fascination, being attracted to 
 her. We laughed as we saw the parson approach 
 her, laughed as we saw her circle round him 
 with enticing gestures at least my companions 
 did. I could not, because the pity in Curston's 
 face overawed me, the yearning, imploring look 
 in hers. Then, before we were aware of what 
 was happening, Sada threw up her hands with 
 a shriek, lurched heavily towards Curston, and 
 fell into his arms. 
 
 For a moment or two there was great con- 
 fusion in the little assembly, but Curston, lifting
 
 S A D A 105 
 
 the girl, said quietly, ' She has fainted,' and bore 
 her away into a room beyond. A few mild jokes 
 were indulged in at his expense, for we believed 
 that the parson's protestations had ended as 
 they always did, and that the beautiful Sada, 
 the soulless incarnation of flesh, would triumph, 
 as she had always triumphed. But accustomed 
 as we were to surprises from our eccentric 
 friend, he had still one greater surprise in store 
 for us. 
 
 I did not see him for more than a week after 
 his little adventure at the dancing-house. Then 
 one day he entered my office, and, flinging him- 
 self into an easy-chair before me, stared hard 
 into my face without speaking. It was a habit 
 of his, and one to which I had no great objection. 
 I stared back at him, surprised to find how pale 
 he looked, how wildly his eyes sparkled. I 
 always had a half-suspicion that he was mad : 
 now I felt sure of it. 
 
 ' Well, old chap,' I began, affecting the style 
 which is called genial, ' where have you been all 
 this time ? ' 
 
 For a moment or two he watched me irre- 
 solutely, suspiciously. Then he answered 
 slowly, ' I have been very busy.'
 
 106 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 'So I should imagine. You haven't been 
 round to the club lately ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Then what the deuce have you been doing 
 with yourself? ' 
 
 He smiled in an undecided sort of way, 
 looking like a man who wants to speak yet 
 dare not. The scene at the dancing-house 
 flashed across my mind. 
 
 * It 's not ' and I began to grin ' it 's not 
 Sada ? ' 
 
 The blood rushed furiously to his face, and 
 as he bit off the end of his cigar I saw his hand 
 tremble. 
 
 ' Sada,' he answered, breathing the word with 
 a tenderness there could be no mistaking ; ' yes, 
 it is Sada,' 
 
 I could not conceal my triumph. 
 
 ' What, my immaculate one,' I cried, ' caught 
 at last ? ' 
 
 ' No, Johnson, not in that way ; not in the 
 way you mean, though I can forgive you the , 
 thought. I love Sada, do you understand, love 
 her as a man should love his wife. She is ill, 
 very ill ; sometimes I despair, sometimes I hope 
 for the best. You remember that night she fell
 
 S A D A 107 
 
 into my arms that night she danced the keena ? 
 Well, she fainted then, Johnson ; really fainted 
 with fatigue. It was the pain, the horror in 
 her face that drew me to her ; it was the pity 
 in mine, the first look of pity she had ever 
 known, that drew her to me. She is ill, really 
 ill. Consumption, the doctor says, aggravated 
 by her manner of living. Just fancy, Johnson, 
 fancy a woman living that life, dancing that 
 bestial dance, and yet dying inch by inch.' 
 
 He lit the cigar with trembling fingers, and I 
 saw, as he looked out through the window, that 
 his eyes were moist with tears. 
 
 ' I could pity a dog such a life,' I answered, 
 'though what is to be will be. You may be 
 sure that thousands yearly die her death.' The 
 sentiment in me was fast going by the board. 
 I had no doubt the world would go on just as 
 well without any particular Sada: there were 
 always so many waiting to fill her place. 
 
 ' Thousands,' he echoed, awestruck, as though 
 the thought had a newer and mightier signi- 
 ficance ; ' it 's horrible, horrible ! And it is we 
 men who bring them to it.' 
 
 ' That is a matter for argument, Curston. 
 The fact remains.'
 
 io8 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 'She, at least, shall not die the death,' he 
 rejoined warmly. ' I have already taken her 
 away from that horrid place bought her out, 
 Johnson isn't it awful ! ' 
 
 This was serious. I awoke to an interest in 
 the subject for the first time. 
 
 ' What have you done with her ? ' 
 
 'She is with the missionary and his wife. 
 I told them the whole story, and they 
 took her in, for which God will reward 
 them,' he added devoutly. ' She looks so 
 pure, so white as she lies in her white bed, 
 that I cannot think she was ever anything 
 but what she seems to me now. I some- 
 times fear she grows paler, Johnson, her 
 hands more waxen ; but they say that just 
 before dawn the night is always darkest, and 
 I am not without hope she will ultimately 
 recover.' 
 
 ' And if she does ? ' 
 
 At the thought his eyes sparkled, his face 
 grew radiant, transformed ; like the face of a 
 saint. 
 
 ' I shall marry her, of course.' 
 
 'Eh?' 
 
 He smiled gently. ' You look astonished.'
 
 SAD A 109 
 
 Astonished! I should rather think I was. 
 Why, man, you must be mad.' 
 
 'Not in the least,' he answered quietly. 'It's 
 a revelation, I tell you. It came to me that 
 night. God has asked me to make the sacrifice, 
 and I 'm going to make it.' 
 
 ' Are you sure you have thought it all out 
 that you know what it means ? ' 
 
 ' It means little to me, Johnson ; but it means 
 all the world to her.' 
 
 The man was radiant, glorying in the thought 
 of the great work he was about to do. I knew 
 it would be useless obtruding my selfish argu- 
 ments upon such a soul. What I would have 
 done mattered nothing to him. It was not 
 from such as I that men like Curston took their 
 standard of morality. No one knew it better. 
 He would have listened attentively in his quiet, 
 polite way, would then have summed me up 
 impartially and found me wanting. 
 
 ' I should like to see her, Curston.' 
 
 A sudden glad smile lit his pale face. 
 
 ' I always thought you were a good fellow, 
 Johnson,' he said, wringing my hand. 'You 
 shall come and see her, if you like. Then you 
 shall tell me if I am mistaken.'
 
 no YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ' I need not see her to tell you that. But 
 when shall I come ? ' 
 
 ' Some day soon when she is better.' 
 
 But she never got better, though Curston 
 did all within his power to save her. The 
 disease had attacked her in its most virulent 
 form, and from inquiries I made I knew that 
 Sada was not long for this earth. Yet the 
 permission for me to call came sooner than I 
 expected. 
 
 I was met at the gate by the missionary in 
 person, who conducted me back to the house, 
 explaining the situation as we walked. It was 
 just what I had expected : constitution under- 
 mined by excesses. And now the end was not 
 far off. But of Curston and his devotion the 
 good man could scarcely speak for the sobs that 
 rose in his own throat. 
 
 ' He is with her now,' said the clergyman. 
 ' Come this way. You will see them. It is all 
 dreadfully sad, but very beautiful.' 
 
 He led me into the house, and on through 
 the passage to a little room at the back. Here, 
 pointing to a door that stood open, he 
 motioned me forward. I went on, my steps 
 leaving no echo on the soft matting. At the
 
 SADA in 
 
 door I stood for a moment irresolute ; then I 
 stepped in. 
 
 It was a small, white-papered room, with 
 half a dozen kakemonos on the walls, and here 
 and there an engraved biblical story. In the 
 window was a big pot of plum-blossoms, and 
 beyond were the sun and the sea. 
 
 And yet it was not on these things that I set 
 my eyes, though they all seemed to flash in on 
 the brain at once. In the far corner of the 
 room, right opposite me, was a little iron bed, 
 beside which knelt the figure of a man. Neither 
 he nor the occupant of the bed seemed to note 
 my coming. No movement was made, no word 
 uttered as I advanced. 
 
 ' Curston.' 
 
 He rose quietly to his feet, and I saw that 
 his lips had been pressed to her hand. But 
 there was no sign of embarrassment in his face 
 as he greeted me. 
 
 ' I have come to see Sada.' 
 
 He drew me a step nearer, and then pointed 
 towards the bed without speaking. I advanced 
 quietly, lest I should waken her. What a 
 change! When last I saw her she was the 
 embodiment of flesh, her shapely limbs flushed
 
 ii2 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 with exertion, her eyes dancing with excite- 
 ment. And now ! It seemed impossible that 
 this pale, emaciated creature could be all that 
 was left of the once glorious Sada. 
 
 'Well? 'he said 
 
 I shook my head. No word of mine should 
 crush the hope that sprang to his eyes, though 
 one glance at the sleeping girl assured me of 
 the end. 
 
 Presently she moved in her sleep, and then 
 languidly raised her lids. She started, seeing 
 the two men at the foot of the bed ; but as her 
 dim eyes unravelled Curston's face from the 
 sudden blur of things she smiled smiled as a 
 child might awaking from an innocent sleep. 
 No shadow of her past lay upon her pale, sweet 
 face ; her eyes were frank and winsome, as they 
 must have been in the days when she knew no 
 sin. Curston stepped round to her and took 
 her hand. 
 
 ' Sada has slept,' he said softly. ' Is Sada 
 better ? ' 
 
 She did not answer, but I thought her eyes 
 grew suddenly moist. Then drawing his hand 
 to her lips she kissed it passionately. For the 
 first time in my life I really envied Curston.
 
 SADA 113 
 
 What would I not have given to have seen such 
 a look in a woman's face, to have known that 
 it was for me ay, even in the face of such a 
 woman as Sada. 
 
 ' You are happy, Sada ? ' I said. 
 
 She smiled, stroking his hand. She would 
 have kissed it again had he not gently restrained 
 her. 
 
 ' The master is good to Sada,' she answered. 
 ' He has promised that she shall not go back.' 
 And up to his face went the two pitiful eyes 
 again. 
 
 'No, Sada shall never go back while the 
 master lives,' he said ; then turning to me 
 he explained that she was in dread of being 
 sent back to the old life. That I knew would 
 never be. 
 
 'Well?' he asked once again as we shook 
 hands at parting. 
 
 ' My dear Curston,' I said, ' you are not as 
 mad as I thought' 
 
 His face grew as bright as the distant sea 
 upon which the sun was dancing. 
 
 ' It was a revelation,' he whispered, ' a revela- 
 tion. What she has been matters nothing. I 
 tell you, she is an angel.' 
 H
 
 U4 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 I felt half inclined to believe it. At least I 
 knew she loved one. 
 
 But the end came, as every one, except 
 Curston, knew it must. For a moment or two 
 Sada seemed aglow with the newer, brighter 
 life that had suddenly leapt into her veins ; 
 then, with a little sob, she fell back in her 
 lover's arms. He did not weep, but, laying 
 her gently on the pillow, folded her thin hands 
 over her breast. Then, kissing her tenderly, he 
 walked from the room. 
 
 He did not come near any of us for a long 
 time after, but I don't think we ever laughed at 
 him again, for we knew that he had been nearer 
 heaven than most of us would ever get.
 
 AMOK 
 
 KLING, our compradore, was a wiry little 
 fellow with keen, intelligent eyes, a bushy grey 
 beard, a thin hooked nose, and an ugly mouth. 
 A cross between a Malay and an Indian, he 
 had absorbed the virtues, or the vices, of both 
 nations. As a business man he was shrewd, 
 far-seeing, and by civility and strict attention 
 to his duties had founded a wide connection. 
 Indeed it was said in Singapore that he was by 
 far the wealthiest man of his class, though at 
 first sight one would scarcely associate wealth 
 with Kling's poverty-stricken shop, or the mean- 
 looking rooms above it. His house was one 
 of the many shabby ones which overlooked the 
 canal, but whenever I passed that way there 
 was always a smoke and a whisky and soda to 
 hand. In those days Kling was proud to 
 welcome a European into his humble abode. 
 He thought it lent a dignity to his mean 
 
 115
 
 ii6 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 surroundings. Unfortunately for him, and the 
 Europeans, he got to know them better. 
 
 I have a perfect recollection of congratulating 
 him when he married, though I had no curiosity 
 to see his wife, whom I never doubted was some 
 singular creature of his own peculiar class. In 
 fact, I did not see how she could be other, 
 for Kling was a man little likely to attract a 
 young maid's fancy. Of course, with my usual 
 stupidity, I had entirely overlooked the fact that 
 our worthy compradore was a man of means. 
 
 Yet I shall never forget the impression she 
 made on Bouverie and me when we first saw 
 her. It was in Kling's shop. We were both 
 passing at the moment when we stopped to 
 give him the time of day. He turned as he 
 saw us in the door, and though he hastened 
 to make us welcome, it was with considerable 
 constraint that he did so. Instead of salaaming, 
 and bowing us in as he had hitherto done, he 
 seemed to block the way purposely, and by his 
 parley keep us at a distance ; but Bouverie, 
 peering into the shop, had caught a glimpse of a 
 petticoat and a pair of lustrous eyes, and quite 
 unconcernedly he pushed past the reluctant 
 Kling, I following.
 
 AMOK 117 
 
 A gown, white as snow, fell in graceful folds 
 to her feet. She was tall for a native woman, 
 light-skinned, shapely, with the prettiest mouth 
 and chin, and the whitest teeth in the world. 
 But all her other charms seemed to fade to in- 
 significance when compared with her marvellous 
 eyes. They were truly the most wonderful that 
 I had ever seen in a human head. Black, long, 
 with that long oval look which gives to eyes 
 their dreamy languor, they were smouldering 
 globes of fire. No other description would ade- 
 quately suit them. Smouldering they seemed, 
 worlds full of undreamt - of potentiality ; for, 
 unless the mind received a wrong impression, 
 they only awaited the chance to leap into a lurid 
 blaze. When she turned them up and looked 
 us in the face, I for one felt as though a 
 new religion were revealed to me. My friend 
 Bouverie fairly gasped with astonishment. 
 
 ' I say, Kling, who is this this ' He 
 hesitated as though he meant to say ' woman,' 
 then, evidently thinking of ' lady,' he stopped 
 suddenly. This also seemed an unsuitable term 
 to apply to this singular creature. 
 
 Kling bowed low. ' My wife, sir.' 
 
 'Your wife, Kling,' I echoed. 'Why, we
 
 ii8 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 thought you had married a ' I stopped short, 
 feeling I had made as big a fool of myself as 
 Bouverie. I could not tell the compradore the 
 kind of woman I thought he had married. 
 
 Kling bowed gravely. Bouverie turned to 
 him. 
 
 ' Orang Malayu, Kling ? ' 
 
 The compradore bowed again, his yellowy- 
 dark face showing the pride he felt in having 
 one of the higher caste women for his wife, 
 he who had neither home nor people, who was 
 neither Malay nor Indian. The woman turned 
 her lustrous eyes on Bouverie and thanked him 
 with a look. 
 
 He, as if fascinated by her glance, advanced 
 a step nearer and looked dead into her eyes 
 before he spoke. 
 
 ' Do you speak English ? ' 
 
 A rush of dark blood coloured her olive skin. 
 Her breast rose, her lashes drooped ; but her 
 eyes were brighter than ever when she looked 
 up at him. 
 
 ' A leetle,' she answered in a slow sweet voice. 
 
 ' 1 wish you would let me teach you more,' 
 he said in an undertone. 
 
 I think she understood, or if she did not
 
 AMOK 119 
 
 quite understand the words, she was not slow 
 to guess his meaning. She looked up into his 
 face and somewhat regretfully shook her head. 
 Then she turned to Kling and said some words 
 in her own tongue. 
 
 ' My wife wishes me to say she is pleased that 
 she has met you, but, if you will kindly excuse 
 her, she will now go about her household duties.' 
 
 'Wise wife,' muttered Bouverie. Then he 
 blurted out, ' what 's the hurry ? ' 
 
 Kling shook his head. He really could not 
 repeat himself. 
 
 Bouverie, with all the gallantry of an old 
 courtier, took her hand and led her to the 
 shabby stairs, which were at the back of the 
 shop, and as he said good-bye I saw by the 
 look in his face that he was doing that which 
 he should not have done. The way he held her 
 hand told of a meaning pressure on those little 
 fingers. One moment I caught a glimpse of 
 her glorious eyes as she flashed them down in 
 his : then she turned hurriedly away as though 
 afraid of herself. But I knew she would carry 
 with her the haunting vision of that handsome, 
 imploring face, the great strong figure, the 
 burning eyes that had so nearly set her own
 
 120 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ablaze, or, for all I knew, had set them ablaze 
 in real earnest. Somehow my heart went out 
 to the grotesque, pathetic figure of poor old 
 Kling. 
 
 'By Jove, Kling,' cried Bouverie, striding 
 back to us, ' why the deuce didn't you tell us 
 what Mrs. Kling was like ? You 're the 
 luckiest beggar in Singapore.' 
 
 The compradore bowed with his accustomed 
 stateliness, seeming to take it for granted that 
 what Bouverie said was true, though he appeared 
 disinclined to discuss the matter to any extent 
 a state which the thoughtful Bouverie duly 
 respected. Then our host produced the whisky 
 and soda and a box of his choicest cigars, and 
 though he neither drank nor smoked himself, 
 he seemed to gain no little satisfaction from 
 witnessing his guests' enjoyment. 
 
 As we passed out of the door my companion 
 glanced quickly up at the front of the house, I 
 following his example. As I looked I saw the 
 corner of the curtain at the little top window 
 flutter for a moment, then hang soberly in its 
 place. Bouverie smiled complacently to himself. 
 
 ' Well,' he said, ' what do you think of Mrs. 
 Kling]?'
 
 AMOK 121 
 
 I have already expressed an opinion, I could 
 only repeat myself. 
 
 ' Fancy that beastly little half-breed getting 
 hold of such a woman,' he went on angrily ; 
 ' fancy such a glorious creature being tied to 
 that dirty little money-grubber, who, beside his 
 general unfitness for the position, is old enough 
 to be her father.' 
 
 This was the crowning point of King's 
 infamy : he was old enough to be her father. 
 I looked into my companion's face and 
 laughed. 
 
 ' Why not go one better and say grandfather? 
 But you forget that Kling is rich, and that 
 Malay girls are not the only ones who sell 
 themselves for money.' 
 
 ' Damn him ! ' he muttered inconsiderately, 
 ( what right has he to be rich ? ' Bouverie had 
 nothing but his official salary, and no hope of 
 getting more. 
 
 ' The right of every man who works hard.' 
 
 ' Oh, I know your old socialistic argument 
 work, work, work.' Bouverie was not over-fond 
 of the same. ' Unfortunately we can't all be 
 tradesmen.' 
 
 ' Nor could we all make it pay if we were.'
 
 122 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ' Then have it your own way. Kling is not 
 a lucky beggar.' 
 
 ' I did not say so.' 
 
 ' Well, damn him, he could keep his money 
 if' 
 
 'If?' 
 
 ' If I had his wife.' But he stammered some- 
 what, and turned his head away as he made the 
 confession. 
 
 4 My dear fellow,' I said, ' you know, unfor- 
 tunately, that I cannot pose as a moralist, but 
 if you'll take my advice you'll give Kling's 
 house a wide berth.' 
 
 ' I will hug your advice to my bosom, O 
 worthy one,' he answered mockingly. ' Kling's 
 wife shall be like Caesar's.' 
 
 I did not part from him with any great 
 feeling of assurance, knowing the reckless 
 nature of the man, and the determination which 
 underlay his apparently easy-going disposition. 
 Then there was no doubt that Kling's wife, 
 as far as she went, was a perfect beauty, too 
 beautiful to be tied to that little grizzled half- 
 bred specimen of humanity. If the European 
 were handsome and reckless enough, there 
 might be trouble in the camp of the compradore.
 
 AMOK 123 
 
 That Bouverie was handsome any one could 
 see, that he was reckless I knew from personal 
 experience. The devil [himself would not drive 
 him back once he had set his mind upon going 
 forward. That he had already made an im- 
 pression on the woman I did not doubt. I saw 
 her eyes start as she looked at him ; I watched 
 the blood damask her olive skin. Neither had 
 I forgotten that last look on the stairs. Black 
 or white, brown or yellow, no matter what the 
 colour of the covering, passion and hate, and 
 love and death are the same. 
 
 Bouverie often found his way to the com- 
 pradore's after this, and Kling, who dared not 
 offend, treated him with what courtesy he could 
 command ; but he must have felt it hard to 
 smile and profess friendship for one whom he 
 distrusted. Bouverie, however, seemed to be 
 totally oblivious of his host's restraint No 
 doubt it suited him to ignore it, though even 
 Kling began to wonder where the Englishman's 
 pride was. If, however, the latter entered the 
 shop while the master was in charge, all was 
 plain sailing ; but it was when Kling returned 
 suddenly and found the white man there that 
 all his suspicions were aroused. Feeling acutely
 
 124 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 his age, and the insignificance of his own 
 person, he knew that he had but a precarious 
 hold on the affections of his wife. He had 
 always dreaded this day dreaded it as must 
 all old men who marry young women. And 
 now it had come, as he knew in his fatalistic 
 Eastern way it would. With one of his own 
 race, or of either of the races to which he 
 might justly lay claim, he would have known 
 how to act; but against one of the ruling 
 classes, and a government official to boot, how 
 could he proceed ? 
 
 Stricter than ever was the watch he set upon 
 his house. He hired an old Malay woman, to 
 whom he had rendered more than one service, 
 ostensibly to help his wife, in reality to mount 
 guard over her. And yet Bouverie continued 
 to find something attractive in that view of 
 the canal which was just opposite Kling's 
 house. 
 
 The worthy compradore grew moody, sullen ; 
 fits of abstraction took hold of him ; he began 
 to neglect his business. For hours he would 
 sit in his shop, his eyes twitching nervously, 
 his grizzled head between his hands. Every 
 step that passed the door made him start, and
 
 AMOK 125 
 
 whenever he gazed upon Bouverie's smiling 
 face, horrid thoughts of murder flashed through 
 his brain. Yet in his calmer moments he told 
 himself that he was unnecessarily alarmed. So 
 far he had shielded his bird of paradise from 
 the claws of the white vulture : why should he 
 have less success in the future ? 
 
 And yet, unknown to him, the lovers met, 
 and looking into each other's eyes saw therein 
 all that was worth seeing in this world. But 
 one day, while they sat together in the room 
 above the shop, Kling, as they imagined, being 
 away on business in Johore, the old duenna 
 came panting up the stairs, her yellow face 
 ghastly in its pallor. Bouverie and the girl 
 sprang to their feet, the one starting terrified, 
 the other annoyed. But before the woman 
 could do more than gasp out a word of warning, 
 the master himself bounded into the room. 
 His wizened face was ghastly, the yellow and 
 black mixture of his blood rendering the 
 puckered flesh lividly hideous. His eyes 
 glittered with madness. His skinny hands shut 
 and unshut convulsively. He turned to the 
 girl and tried to speak : his lips twitched, but 
 his tongue seemed to refuse its functions.
 
 126 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 Bouverie stepped over to him with outstretched 
 hand, an inscrutable smile on his face. 
 
 ' You are back early, Kling ? ' 
 
 Kling did not answer, but glaring at the open 
 hand, spat viciously upon it' 
 
 ' You dog ! ' cried Bouverie furiously, drawing 
 back his clenched fist But, suddenly remem- 
 bering himself, his hand dropped to his side. 
 
 'Dog!' hissed the half-breed, 'you dog of 
 dogs, you son of a dog ! Bah, bah, bah ! ' and 
 three times he spat at the redoubtable Bouverie, 
 shaking his skinny fist in the Englishman's 
 face, his long mustachios bristling with fury. 
 Then, springing forward, he seized the woman 
 by the arm, poking his hooked nose into her 
 face, and in the native tongue poured forth a 
 torrent of frightful abuse. Her eyes flashed 
 back into his ; her lips curled cruelly : she 
 seemed to tower over him in her anger. 
 
 ' Who are you, pig of a half-breed,' she began, 
 'son of a Malay street harlot, that you could 
 hope to gain the love of a woman of the 
 orang Maldyu \ ' and so on in a strain rather 
 indicative of hate than righteous indignation. 
 She taunted him with his age, his ugliness, his 
 ancestry, and every other discreditable attribute
 
 AMOK 127 
 
 that her fury suggested. He fairly writhed 
 beneath the lashing of her cruel tongue, his 
 little eyes darting fierce jets of mad fire. And 
 yet he stood as one who knows not whether to 
 strike or supplicate. But when she turned to 
 chant the praises of her lover, the man rose in 
 him, hound as he was ; and tall, almost noble, 
 he looked as he drew himself up. Hate, hellish 
 in its intensity, flashed across his livid face. 
 With a horrid scream he sprang at her, and 
 stab, stab went his long sharp creese into her 
 breast With a heart-rending cry she staggered 
 back into Bouverie's arms, while Kling, shrieking 
 in the ecstasy of madness, flew down the stairs, 
 and with a hideous yell burst into the street. 
 
 Bouverie thought her already dead ; at all 
 events she was dying rapidly. One quick, 
 apprehensive look, and he knew the worst. At 
 the same moment the babble of voices was 
 heard in the street, and the awful cry, ' Amok ! 
 amok ! ' rang out. In an instant he grasped the 
 dreadful truth. Kling had suddenly gone mad, 
 and was now running amok ! An agonised 
 glance at the livid face of the woman, a fearful 
 kiss, and he was down the stairs and out into 
 the street, almost as mad as Kling himself.
 
 128 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 Kling, in the meantime, a creese in each 
 hand, ran shrieking down the stony street, his 
 mouth foaming, his eyes rolling horribly, his 
 grizzled hair erect, his beard and mustachios 
 bristling. He struck at the air with the sharp 
 daggers, he snarled, he bit furiously at imagin- 
 ary enemies. And all the time throughout the 
 street, and over the still waters of the canal, 
 rang the dreadful cry, ' Amok ! amok ! ' Those 
 who were in the far-off streets flew for their 
 lives and bolted their doors, but those who 
 could not escape were cut down by the mad- 
 man as he tore on his terrible way. A child, a 
 little thing of five, looked up from its play 
 wondering what all the clatter was about, and 
 behold, the madman was upon it, his greedy 
 daggers drinking the young blood. Men, 
 women, boys, girls fell, struck to death by 
 those insatiable knives, or fled shrieking, a trail 
 of blood showing the course of their flight. To 
 right and left of him flew the people, screaming 
 with terror, for all have a more than human 
 fear of the man who runs amok. 
 
 And now another cry, but one of wonder 
 this time, broke from the quivering lips of those 
 whom Kling had passed ; for they beheld a
 
 AMOK 129 
 
 tall Englishman, with face set and white as 
 death, come tearing in the tracks of the 
 murderer. ' He is mad,' they gasped as he 
 flashed by them ; ' he too is running amok,' for 
 his face was terrible to behold. But mad or 
 sane, on he went, turning neither to right nor 
 left : on, on in the bloody tracks of the com- 
 pradore. 
 
 Kling, after passing through his street, bore 
 round to the right, his face set towards the long 
 dusty road which leads down to the quay. But 
 before he had proceeded many paces he stopped 
 to strike at a child that had wandered some 
 little distance from its mother. The mother 
 heard the child cry ; she saw, she knew : but 
 her love was stronger than her fear. With 
 an angry scream she sprang at him, only to 
 meet the sharp points of those cruel knives. 
 Again she sprang, and this time seized him by 
 the beard ; but he smote her down with a 
 succession of swift blows. Then, ere he could 
 away again, he was seized by the collar and 
 swung violently backwards. Picking himself 
 up with the agility of a cat, he turned snarling 
 at his unknown assailant Yet no sooner did 
 his wild glance rest on the white face of 
 I
 
 130 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 Bouverie, than something like a flash of in- 
 telligence darted from his bloodshot eyes. 
 With a howl he sprang at him, the two dripping 
 creeses poised aloft. 
 
 Bouverie, worthless as he was, had a damnable 
 coolness about him which, on more than one 
 occasion, had stood him in good stead. Though 
 unarmed, and apparently on the brink of the 
 grave, he was yet in full possession of his wits. 
 As Kling sprang so did he ; his long right arm 
 shot out like a piston-rod, and his fist caught 
 the madman fair between the eyes. But the 
 dagger in Kling's right hand scored a great 
 gash down Bouverie's cheek. 
 
 Unheeding this, he sprang at the half-breed 
 before the latter had time to rise again, and in 
 the dust of that public road a terrible struggle 
 ensued. Kling made frantic efforts to stab, 
 and succeeded in inflicting several flesh wounds ; 
 but his wary antagonist had nerves and muscles 
 of steel. Over and over in the road they rolled 
 Bouverie half-blinded with blood, half-choked 
 with dust; Kling hissing and screaming and 
 spitting like a wild cat. 
 
 Bouverie, feeling his strength going, wondered 
 in a half-dazed way why no one came to his
 
 AMOK 131 
 
 aid. He did not know that only natives were 
 the witnesses of this struggle, and that not 
 one of them had courage enough to venture 
 within fifty yards of the combatants. Moreover, 
 though it had not lasted a minute, it seemed to 
 him like an eternity. A vague, blurred notion 
 that he was in no fit condition for such a bout 
 came to him. He wondered, in the same 
 strange way, how long it would last, and who 
 would go under in the end. And all the while 
 Kling's hot breath was steaming in his face, 
 Kling's burning, bloodshot eyes glaring horribly 
 into his. He shivered, as one seized with a 
 great fear, but the fear awoke him to action. 
 Gripping tighter the arms of the madman, he 
 tried to bend them back, to break them, and 
 though he failed in his effort, he noticed that 
 once the point of the dagger passed within an 
 inch of Kling's throat. A dreadful, last idea 
 sprang to life in Bouverie's throbbing brain. 
 
 Putting forth all his strength, he pressed 
 Kling's left hand, which seemed the weaker, 
 back, back, till the point almost touched the 
 old man's wizened neck. Then he suddenly 
 leant forward. A moment's fierce straining, 
 and there was a noise as though the tendons
 
 132 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 of the arm had snapped : the knife sank three 
 inches into the brown throat. 
 
 But Bouverie often says that if he should live 
 for a thousand years he will never forget the 
 last dying look Kling flung at him.
 
 THE CITY OF THE WHITE 
 ELEPHANT 
 
 THE residents of Bangkok, in Siam, call that 
 particular city the Venice of the East, but as 
 there are at least a dozen other Eastern Cities 
 all laying claim to the same title, the new- 
 comer is apt to grow a little confused. Still 
 the Menam, just abreast of the city, is a remark- 
 ably fine stream, and if numerous canals and 
 gondolas can make a Venice, then may Bang- 
 kok's presumption be forgiven. Nor are gon- 
 dolas or sampans the only boats to be seen, 
 for right up to the city itself come the smaller 
 steamers from Hong Kong, Singapore, Saigon, 
 and numerous other coast ports ; and here, 
 facing the river, are the one or two hotels, the 
 various consulates, and the larger commercial 
 houses. 
 
 Though ostensibly living in the hotel, our 
 sleeping apartments were in a large wooden 
 
 133
 
 134 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 out-house detached from the main body of the 
 building. Here, surrounded by mosquitoes, 
 and serenaded by the croakings of frogs and 
 the dreary sing-song of the lizards as they 
 called to each other across the ceiling, or 
 flopped about on the verandah outside, we 
 vainly sought to entice coy Morpheus to our 
 aid. Poor Grantham, who had not been 
 accustomed to the luxurious East, did not 
 sleep a wink all that first night ; at least so he 
 declared the following morning, but I would 
 like to see the lizard that would keep a healthy, 
 tired boy awake all through a drowsy night. 
 
 ' You may laugh,' he said, ' but I '11 swear 
 I Ve had a lizard sitting on my chest all through 
 the night.' 
 
 ' Why not an elephant ? ' I suggested. 
 
 'It couldn't have been worse. Egad, old 
 fellow, Bangkok's a treat of a place.' 
 
 ' There are worse,' was all the defence I 
 could make. ' But you needn't be afraid, the 
 lizards won't hurt you.' 
 
 'But you must admit they have a most 
 reprehensible habit of serenading the moon.' 
 
 ' Sentiment, mere sentiment. It 's quite re- 
 freshing when you 're used to it.'
 
 CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT 135 
 
 ' I don't think I shall ever get used to it. 
 Horrid, slimy brutes ! ' 
 
 ' My dear fellow, Bangkok would be nothing 
 without its lizards. They are the cats and 
 general scavengers of the place, besides being 
 the nightingales. The people even regard 
 them as minor deities. And you can bear 
 witness to the excellence of their singing.' 
 
 ' I can,' he answered dryly. ' Throughout 
 the best part of last night a big chap sang to 
 me a song which even your snoring could not 
 drown. He was perched on the ceiling just 
 above my head. Ugh, the brute ! Every 
 moment I expected him to come flop on my 
 face. I could see his beastly little slits of eyes 
 shining like fire in the dark. I '11 tell you 
 what it is, old man, this beastly place is enough 
 to give a fellow the d. t's.' 
 
 ' Ah, well,' I answered consolingly, ' in a 
 week's time I hope to be ready to start.' 
 
 1 And in the meantime ? ' he asked despair- 
 ingly. 
 
 ' You must cultivate a better acquaintance 
 with your friend the lizard.' 
 
 That day we passed in viewing pagodas, 
 temples, the sacred elephants, great Buddhas
 
 136 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 and little Buddhas, and countless other so-called 
 items of interest, which wearied us exceedingly. 
 I know I went to bed dead beat, while Grantham 
 could scarcely keep his eyes open while he un- 
 dressed. I do not think the Bangkok nightin- 
 gales plagued him much that night. 
 
 When I awoke at five it was already broad 
 daylight, and from the corner where I lay, for 
 we both slept in the same room, I could hear 
 Grantham breathing so stertorously that for a 
 moment I imagined he was choking. He sighed, 
 he groaned, he carried on like one in mortal 
 agony. Listening, I grew a little alarmed, for 
 he was more or less under my charge, and I 
 knew if anything happened I should be expected 
 to render a true account to his people. Rising 
 on my pillow, I looked over to where he lay, 
 but seeing nothing got up. 
 
 My movements seemed to arouse him, for 
 waking at the instant, he gave a horrid scream. 
 There, sitting on his chest, staring into his 
 eyes, was a huge lizard. As he moved the 
 thing slid off and slowly waddled away. Quite 
 leisurely it strolled across the floor, and then 
 began to mount to the ceiling, having reached 
 which, it struck up a glad croaking.
 
 CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT 137 
 
 ' No wonder I thought I had the devil squat- 
 ting on me,' said the victim. ' Ugh ! I shan't 
 have any nerves left if I stay here much 
 longer.' 
 
 As there was no more thought of sleep just 
 then, we each lit a cheroot and went out on 
 to the verandah to enjoy the cool morning air. 
 I flung myself in a basket-chair, while my 
 companion leant against one of the posts and 
 watched the natives as they came down to the 
 river to perform their morning ablutions, or to 
 carry away in pail or jar the day's water. 
 They were mostly women, and fine strapping 
 wenches too at least so my young friend said, 
 and he rather prided himself on his knowledge 
 of the sex. Still, as youth is somewhat fasti- 
 dious, I was not disinclined to place credence 
 in some of his conclusions. 
 
 'By George, Jim, come here. Just look at 
 this girl.' 
 
 He had made the same request half a dozen 
 times before, but I had only lazily told him to 
 go to a warmer place than Bangkok. What 
 had I, an old married man, to do with half- 
 naked wenches ! Moreover, I never cared 
 much for colour. Now, however, I sprang to
 
 138 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 my feet, for if his looks and voice might be 
 accepted as reflecting his impressions, there was 
 something really worth looking at at last. 
 
 Following the direction of his eyes, I saw a 
 girl come swinging towards us, bare-footed, her 
 breast and shoulders bare : a coolie in every- 
 thing but carriage ; for the way she walked, 
 the way she held her head, proclaimed her of a 
 higher caste. There was a dignity, a stateliness 
 in her step which I had never before seen 
 equalled by white or dark woman ; a dignity of 
 which her poor dress could not rob her. As 
 she passed under us she raised her eyes for a 
 moment, and I saw a handsome, well-cut face, 
 a clear olive complexion, and a pair of the 
 most lustrous brown eyes imaginable. Even a 
 married man may see a thing like this. Then, 
 if anything, her head went higher, her step 
 grew freer, and she strode down to the river 
 with the natural dignity of a young goddess. 
 
 Grantham never took his eyes off her, and 
 she, I believe, was conscious of the allegiance, 
 for her ablutions were performed with but a 
 meagre display of her person, which was rather 
 annoying. Presently she returned with a big 
 earthenware pitcher on her head, and as she
 
 CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT 139 
 
 passed us Grantham coughed a suspicious 
 cough which one often hears in the streets, 
 or at the seaside. Again she gave us a look 
 out of those bewitching eyes, a moment's 
 glimpse into heaven, Grantham called it (the 
 young fool !), and then passed on. 
 
 ' Well, old chap,' he said, ' what do you think 
 of that for a bit of brown satin ? ' 
 
 ' What have I to do with brown satin ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I forgot,' and the young dog actually 
 winked. c But isn't she magnificent ? I wonder 
 who she can be ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing much, lad, or she wouldn't be 
 doing coolies' work.' 
 
 ' I suppose not ; but she 's a glorious creature.' 
 
 I couldn't deny it. If discretion permitted 
 the use of such an adjective in reference to 
 any Siamese woman, this girl might justly be 
 entitled to it 
 
 At dusk, as we sat under the verandah 
 smoking and watching the natives come down 
 to the river for the evening water, we saw her 
 again, a very queen among her fellows. Gran- 
 tham started in his seat and chewed his cigar 
 reflectively : then presently he arose and went 
 round to the back of the house. I had just
 
 140 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 time to note the girl disappearing in the same 
 direction. 
 
 He did not come back for half an hour or 
 so, and then seemed rather moody and pre- 
 occupied. 
 
 ' I wish I could yap Siamese,' he muttered as 
 he rolled into bed that night. 
 
 I laughed softly to myself, though I knew 
 that love would find a way. 
 
 The next morning when I awoke I failed to 
 discover a lizard squatting on my companion's 
 chest ; indeed, neither lizard nor companion 
 was to be seen. I arose and went to the door, 
 and so out on to the verandah, from which I 
 just caught a glimpse of my young gentleman 
 in his pyjamas, as he disappeared behind some 
 trees at the back of the house. A native woman 
 with gleaming arms and shoulders, and a water 
 jar on her head, walked beside him. He was 
 gesticulating, protesting, talking to her in the 
 few words of Siamese he had picked up ; beg- 
 ging, no doubt, to be allowed to carry the jar. 
 I asked him, when, later on, he put in an appear- 
 ance, if she had permitted him to relieve her of 
 the burden, but he only blushed and shook his 
 head.
 
 CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT 141 
 
 I must confess I did not like that blush. 
 It proclaimed an honesty which I did not 
 believe the occasion required. I had known 
 many a young fellow turn an interested eye 
 on a native woman perhaps I had even done 
 it myself in days gone by but I had never 
 known one blush before when questioned of 
 it. Candidly, I did not like the sign. It might 
 have been a prejudice of mine, but I really 
 could not see anything to blush at, and I grew 
 mightily suspicious in consequence. And yet 
 when I remembered that he was only a lad, 
 and fair-skinned at that, I was not utterly 
 without hope. The virgin pink and white still 
 clung desperately to his cheeks in spite of 
 tropic suns and big mosquitoes. The blood 
 would show itself in such a face ; even in the 
 roots of his fair hair. It would be many a day 
 before toil and tan would harden that skin 
 sufficiently to enable him to defy the inner 
 blood-rushes. 
 
 That evening the same thing happened. At 
 dusk the natives came down to the river for 
 water, and as soon as he saw her he rose and 
 disappeared up the little path which ran by 
 the back of the house. I am sure she must
 
 142 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 have seen him, and that they signalled to each 
 other, for she did not hesitate a moment on the 
 riverside, but, rapidly filling her jar, went back 
 the way she had come. 
 
 He did not show up for two good hours 
 after this, and to my inquiries as to the reason 
 of his absence he returned some incoherent 
 answer, and then called loudly for a brandy 
 and soda. And here, while the liquor is being 
 served, let me own to a little pique, a little 
 jealousy. We had now been together for many 
 months, during the whole of which time we 
 had been the best of friends, and I had begun 
 to like the boy so much that any thought of 
 a woman cutting in between us was one I had 
 little patience with. So far everything he had 
 done had been duly confided to me, and I had 
 given him such advice as I thought might 
 benefit him ; but now he was secret, morose, 
 and, though I knew what he was up to, he kept 
 as dark as though he believed he was hood- 
 winking me. If the truth must be confessed, 
 I really yearned for his confidence, but if he 
 would not speak of his own free will, my pride 
 forbade me to ask for it. 
 
 As we sat smoking and sipping our grog,
 
 CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT 143 
 
 I in any but a pleasant state of mind, he 
 evidently not one whit the better off, he turned 
 suddenly to me, saying, ' When do you think 
 you '11 be ready for sea ? ' 
 
 ' In a couple of days, I hope.' 
 
 ' So soon ! ' There was a half-tone of regret 
 in his voice. 
 
 ' I thought you hated the place ? ' 
 
 ' So I did.' 
 
 'Did?' 
 
 ' I don't hate it any more.' 
 
 ' Serious as that, is it ? ' 
 
 He favoured me with a queer, scrutinising 
 look ; then sent a cloud of smoke flying across 
 the room. 
 
 ' Of course you know what I Ve been up to ? ' 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 He puffed away for quite a minute, then 
 wound up by taking a long drink. I did 
 the same, remaining silent. I knew he had 
 something to say, and that if I left him alone 
 he would most assuredly out with it. 
 
 There were one or two ineffectual efforts 
 to speak ; then he said, ' Are you taking any 
 passengers back to Hong Kong ? ' 
 
 ' Not that I am aware of.'
 
 144 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ' But of course you wouldn't refuse ? ' 
 
 ' That depends.' 
 
 'On what?' 
 
 ' On the quality of the passengers. For in- 
 stance, a certain coolie woman would not be 
 eligible.' 
 
 His fair face flushed ; then grew black and 
 threatening. 
 
 'You've turned damned good all at once/ 
 he sneered. 
 
 ' My dear fellow, I have no wish to prate 
 about my goodness, nor hear you prate of it 
 either : I know how far to go, that 's all.' 
 
 'Then as I am only a passenger,' he con- 
 tinued peevishly, ' perhaps I am also ineligible ? 
 Indeed, I think I am no fit companion for such 
 a virtuous captain. Perhaps it might be better 
 for you if I stayed behind ? ' 
 
 'You must please yourself,' I answered 
 warmly, stung somewhat by his selfish in- 
 gratitude. ' At any rate, I will not allow you 
 to bring that woman aboard my ship.' 
 
 'As you please,' he said coldly, and, as I 
 launched out on another remark, he quickly 
 brought me to with a round turn. ' I don't 
 think we need discuss it further.'
 
 CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT 145 
 
 I went to bed in no enviable mood that 
 night, cursing the ingratitude of man and the 
 baseness of woman ; for not till this little tiff 
 did I really know how dear the boy had grown 
 to me. As I lay tossing on the hot bed, my 
 heart was full of wrath against all mankind. 
 I vowed I would never forgive him, never, 
 never, never ! And yet I could not go to sleep 
 till I heard him enter the room and scramble 
 into bed, though my anger would not let me 
 say ' good-night ' which piece of pettiness kept 
 me awake for another miserable hour. 
 
 The whole of the following day the boy was 
 like one possessed, a state of uneasiness which 
 increased as the evening drew in. Eagerly 
 he watched for the appearance of the water- 
 carriers, and as they at length began to arrive 
 in ones and twos he lit a cigar and wandered 
 off. I, feeling considerably nettled at the 
 cavalier way in which I was treated, thought 
 I would lay in wait for the woman and ex- 
 postulate with her. With that intention I 
 strolled down to the place where the natives 
 came to fill their jars, and watched them come 
 and go, an endless stream. And when at last 
 she loomed in sight, taller, prouder, and, I must 
 
 K
 
 146 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 own, more beautiful than any of her people, 
 I felt such a thrill of animosity run through 
 me that I could have pitched her into the river. 
 At first she looked at me kindly, smilingly ; but 
 if she expected to find a friend in me she 
 was mightily mistaken. Jealousy and disgust 
 showed itself in my face. I saw no beauty in 
 her shapely limbs ; I forgot even that her eyes 
 were beautiful. To me she seemed a half- 
 naked savage of fair proportions, perhaps, but 
 brazen to a degree. She saw the reproving 
 look in my face, and her eyes, full of a gentle 
 pathos, met mine. Then she drew herself up 
 in all her native dignity, swung her jar on her 
 head, and strode back the way she had come, 
 giving me no chance to say the bitter things 
 that were on the tip of my tongue. 
 
 Not feeling sure that I had won this battle 
 of looks, I lit a cigar and meandered down by 
 the river till I reached the point opposite my 
 ship, which I noted with satisfaction was grad- 
 ually getting deeper in the water. In another 
 twenty-four hours there was every hope of my 
 getting away. I wish I had gone twenty-four 
 hours before. 
 
 Making a detour on my way back to the
 
 hotel I saw, crossing a path to the right of me, 
 two figures move slowly through the shadows. 
 Even in the indistinct light I made out his 
 white clothes and knew who the two were. 
 Perfectly oblivious of the world they wandered 
 slowly on, their arms about each other, her 
 head resting on his shoulder. And so they 
 passed away in the gloom amid the trees. 
 
 An hour later he turned up in the best of 
 moods. His eyes were sparkling, his face aglow, 
 and he called for his brandy and soda in a voice 
 that rang like a joy-bell. His light-heartedness 
 annoyed me. What right had he to be so happy 
 while I was wretched? I smoked on in silence. 
 
 After the liquor had been brought and he 
 had taken a long drink, he lit a cheroot and 
 threw himself back in the long chair. Looking 
 hard at me, he said 
 
 ' I 'm sorry we had that little misunderstand- 
 ing yesterday.' 
 
 ' I 've forgotten it,' I answered. 
 
 He looked as though he scarcely believed 
 me, but he replied, ' I haven't, Jim. I 'm afraid 
 I was impertinent that I said more than I 
 meant. You '11 forgive me, won't you ? ' 
 
 Bless him, yes ! But I answered like a fool
 
 148 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 in the same constrained tone, 'Oh, there's 
 nothing to forgive.' The young dog was 
 evidently coming round at last. He should 
 be more humble yet. This was my triumph. 
 
 ' Well,' he said, ' I hope it 's as you say, for 
 I should like us to part good friends.' 
 
 Part ! I nearly jumped out of my seat. 
 
 ' What the devil do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' You see,' he replied in his soft, slow voice, 
 'she's coming with me, old man, and as you 
 won't have her on your ship I shall have to 
 take her in another. There 's a German sailing 
 next week, and the Germans, you know, are 
 not so particular as we English.' (He couldn't 
 help having a slap at me.) ' I shall be in Hong 
 Kong four or five days after you.' 
 
 I arose to my feet physically incapable of 
 sitting still and listening to such a piece of 
 infernal presumption. 
 
 ' You are mad, Grantham.' 
 
 He smiled coolly, ' Perhaps.' 
 
 ' But have you any idea what you are 
 doing? what this means? It's one thing to 
 amuse yourself, but another to ' 
 
 'To be serious, thou virtuous one,' and he 
 smiled sarcastically. 'Precisely. Well, I am 
 serious this time.'
 
 CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT 149 
 
 ' Have you found out who the woman is ? ' 
 'She was, till she fell into disgrace a week 
 ago, Chula, the favourite slave of Chao Klum.' 
 ' The rich rice-grower ? ' 
 'Something of that sort, I believe. He has 
 degraded her to coolie rank for well, never 
 mind what for.' 
 
 ' Do you know that this Klum is a powerful 
 man in these parts, and that that, my God ! 
 you would never leave this country alive if he 
 knew ? ' 
 
 ' That I must risk. When do you sail ? ' 
 
 ' The day after to-morrow early.' 
 
 The next day I was at him again, but could 
 
 not shake his purpose. They had pledged 
 
 themselves to each other,4ie said, and he meant 
 
 to see the business through. Then he told 
 
 some rigmarole of the ill-treatment she had 
 
 experienced at Klum's hands (at which I was 
 
 not surprised), and the worse fate that was 
 
 likely to befall her when her love for him was 
 
 known. I could see that he thought himself in 
 
 honour bound to her, and that it was no use 
 
 talking. There was only the vague hope that 
 
 things would eventually right themselves. 
 
 About eight o'clock that same evening he
 
 150 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 sallied forth, letting me understand where he 
 was going ; but less than an hour after he 
 staggered into the room where I was sitting, 
 his face livid, his clothes torn and dusty. He 
 had only time to gasp, ' Brandy, brandy,' when 
 he fell in a swoon at my feet. In a moment I 
 had him in my arms, all my resentment gone. 
 I poured some of my own brandy and soda 
 between his pale lips. I tore back the shirt 
 from his breast, and to my horror saw that he 
 was wounded there ; there was also another 
 ugly wound on the back of the head, from which 
 the blood trickled in dark drops. 
 
 For a long time he lay unconscious : then 
 he began to moan incoherently, and presently 
 to mutter 'Chula, Chula.' When he awoke it 
 was ' Chula, where is Chula ? ' I got him 
 carried round to our room, attended to his 
 wounds as well as I could, and then put him 
 to bed. For some time he tossed restlessly 
 on his pillow moaning ' Chula, Chula.' Then 
 he would pour out volumes of the sweetest 
 love-talk I ever heard, his voice sounding so 
 inexpressibly tender that a woman might easily 
 have loved him for it alone. Then came 
 harsher cries of ' Look, they are coming !
 
 CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT 151 
 
 Quick, quick ! They shall kill me first 
 Closer, dearest, closer. Don't be afraid, don't 
 be afraid.' And there was much more of the 
 same kind of thing, which explained clearly 
 enough the cause of this disaster. Indeed, 
 his own revelations later on fully verified my 
 surmises. 
 
 His open admiration of the girl had reached 
 Chao Klum's ears, as it was sure to do, though 
 in their blindness the lovers thought all the 
 world was blind. They were surprised by 
 some of Klum's mercenaries, who succeeded in 
 carrying Chula off, and almost in doing her 
 lover to death. It was a sordid enough story, 
 set in an Eastern framework ; but it meant 
 all the world to at least one of the two 
 principals. 
 
 As might be expected there was little sleep 
 for me that night, but I was glad to see that 
 once the delirium passed away my companion 
 slept soundly. In the morning when he awoke 
 he was perfectly sane, though weak, and I had 
 not much difficulty in persuading him to let 
 me take him aboard. Indeed he seemed early 
 to recognise the futility of staying, though the 
 thought of leaving Chula behind was one that
 
 152 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 made him waver. Yet when he once recognised 
 the fact that she was as much lost to him now 
 as though the grave lay between them, he 
 reluctantly resigned himself to the inevitable ; 
 and with a last lingering look up the little 
 pathway along which he had first seen her 
 come, a vision of graceful, imperious youth, 
 he suffered me to lead him down to the boat. 
 
 After we had crossed the bar, and I had set 
 the ship's course down the Gulf of Siam, I 
 returned to my cabin where Grantham lay 
 asleep, a poor white shred of a boy. The soft 
 breeze that came in through the port played 
 with the little silken curls on his white forehead. 
 He seemed so like a delicate child as he lay 
 there, his blue-veined lids tight pressed upon 
 his tired eyes, that I could almost have believed 
 the incidents of the last few days were nothing 
 more than a dream. 
 
 With a sigh I turned away, when my eyes 
 encountered a small parcel addressed to me. 
 Mechanically I took it up and undid the paper 
 wrapper, when a cigar -box disclosed itself. 
 Thinking some one had made me a present, I 
 examined the box still more closely, when to 
 my surprise I saw that it had already been
 
 CITY OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT 153 
 
 tampered with. Instantly opening it I dis- 
 covered, not cigars, but a piece of blue striped 
 cloth, such as the people wear about their loins, 
 such as I had seen Chula herself wear. Lifting 
 this out I knew that it was merely used as a 
 wrap or cover, and that the present, or whatever 
 it was, lay within. Hastily undoing the wrapping 
 I laid bare a little brown hand! Beneath it 
 was a slip of white paper stained with blood. 
 Opening this with trembling fingers I made 
 out the two badly -written words, 'Chula's 
 farewell.' 
 
 I turned to the white -faced lad who was 
 lying fast asleep, whose most sacred possession 
 is now that bit of blood-stained coolie cloth. 
 A holy calm was on his delicate face ; a faint 
 smile of ineffable sweetness played about the 
 corners of his mouth. For the first time I felt 
 akin with him really understood him. But 
 not till we were swinging at anchor in the 
 harbour of Hong Kong did I breathe a word of 
 Chula' s farewell.
 
 BROWN AND WHITE 
 
 SWEET as the days of Paradise were the hours 
 that Phrada, the king's sister, and Stangate, 
 the white foreigner, spent gliding up and down 
 the moonlit waters of the Menam. It all 
 happened several years ago now, but it will be 
 a long time before the memory of it dies in 
 Bangkok. How it all came about no one 
 knew, for she was rigidly guarded in a manner 
 peculiar to the East. At first the sampan 
 people, and those who lived on the banks of 
 the river, thought the white boat that went 
 swiftly up and down in the white night was 
 some spectre barge of the gods ; for from it, 
 keeping time to the soft dip of the oars, came a 
 voice singing strange sweet songs, the like of 
 which they had never heard fall from mortal 
 lips. With a look full of wonder and fear 
 they watched it come gliding down the soft 
 bosom of the great river ; with a feeling of 
 
 164
 
 BROWN AND WHITE 155 
 
 awe they beheld it disappear in perspective, 
 swallowed up in air and sky. And all the time 
 the glad notes of the strange god's singing 
 came panting through the still night, and fell 
 upon their ears like spirit voices in a dream. 
 
 They will tell you this story in Bangkok, tell 
 it in broken whispers, with eyes and ears alert, 
 for the king has forbidden all mention of it 
 on pain of death. But though a king may 
 command the body, since men have foolishly 
 given him that power, he can neither control 
 the mind nor the tongue, though the latter he 
 may curb somewhat. This story is a sort of 
 Midas secret, fearful for him who knows, but 
 more fearful for him who whispers it even into 
 the earth. 
 
 Those who had seen Phrada declared she 
 was most beautiful, tall, stately, the dignity of 
 her birth and of her fabled god-like ancestry 
 adding a nobler stateliness to her mien. And 
 yet this flower of the royal house, this divinity 
 at whose feet half the princes and nobles had 
 sighed in vain, remained with heart whole and 
 fancy free till she looked into the blue eyes of 
 the foreigner a poor homeless wanderer whose 
 face was like no other white man's, whose hair
 
 156 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 was tipped with the gold of the sun at noon. 
 He saw the look, he saw the beauty before him, 
 and a light of understanding flashed from his 
 blue eyes into her black ones, and was reflected 
 back again into his. No one present saw, no 
 one knew; but for the rest of that day her 
 thoughts ran riot in her brain, her heart beat- 
 ing, beating till it was sick with this new 
 anxiety. 
 
 But trust love to find a way, especially when 
 woman is the lover ; and Phrada was not with- 
 out the boldness and insolence of her order. 
 The result was that Stangate was secretly intro- 
 duced to her presence, and between them an 
 affection sprang up which, on her side at least, 
 was all-absorbing. Then when the rains ceased, 
 and the nights grew warm and still, they slipped 
 out from the palace together, or she met him 
 on the river's bank, where his boat lay in wait- 
 ing, and down the broad, swift stream they 
 went ; past the sampans and the houses ay, 
 even down past the big ships of the foreigners, 
 with no one to see them but the stars ; for the 
 two men who rowed the boat were separated 
 from them by a small deck-house or screen. 
 Indeed, until all was known, those two sampan
 
 BROWN AND WHITE 157 
 
 men had no suspicion of the divinity of their 
 passenger. 
 
 They were glorious nights, nights in which 
 moon and stars vied in their allegiance to the 
 lovers ; and Phrada, as she lay back on the 
 cushions in her lover's arms, looked up into the 
 intense far-off blue of the sky and wondered 
 why Buddha should bless his children so. And 
 when he sang, that dear lord by her side, she 
 would close her eyes and float rapturously into 
 heaven. Was ever such singing, ever such 
 mortal notes ? Golden-throated, silver-throated : 
 the sweetest of spice-laden breezes as it blew 
 through the garden of the gods sang not half so 
 sweetly as this mortal. Mortal ! God of the 
 gods rather: Buddha himself re-incarnated. 
 No wonder the simple folks upon the banks 
 looked after the white boat with awe ; no 
 wonder they thought they saw it glide up the 
 silver pathway of the moon, up, up, till the 
 stars enwrapped it with a glittering mantle, 
 and floated it on, on to the higher kingdoms 
 of heaven. 
 
 Sometimes the fear of what she did took hold 
 of Phrada, and held her with a terrible grasp. 
 Danger, like a mongrel cur, growled at her
 
 i$8 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 heels every step she took, and imagination 
 painted in horrid colours the grim face of re- 
 tribution ; but she had only to see him, her 
 lord, to feel his arms about her, his lips on hers, 
 to enter the heaven of his eyes, for all the 
 human terror to fade into oblivion. With his 
 eyes he had drawn her soul from her ; her 
 heart, springing to her lips, he had sealed with 
 a thousand kisses, a seal which she knew no 
 other mortal would ever break. In flesh and in 
 the spirit she was his, his to cherish, perchance 
 to spurn ; but his while the heart beat, the 
 pulses throbbed. 
 
 And he who had awakened this great love in 
 a princess of the royal house, what was he, 
 whence came he ? Merely a poor devil of a 
 foreigner who had come to Bangkok to super- 
 intend the mysterious wires which ran through 
 the city on long poles, and which carried the 
 lightning messages from end to end of the 
 world ; a man of power, they said, who held 
 communication with the unseen, who called 
 spirits, dread, devastating spirits, to his aid. 
 But that was long ago, the dim long ago it 
 seems to the people now, when they were 
 ignorant. Other foreigners have come and
 
 BROWN AND WHITE 159 
 
 gone since then, have even done more marvel- 
 lous things with those mysterious wires, that 
 mighty, unseen force ; but the memory of 
 Stangate, of what he did, and how he passed 
 away, has crept into the hearts of the people, 
 and is there engraven with the things that never 
 die. 
 
 One night the people along the banks watched 
 in vain for the coming of the white boat. The 
 moon was high, the breezes soft and warm ; it 
 was such a night as the strange god loved of 
 old. But through the air stole no enchanting 
 notes ; only the sad sighing of the sedges struck 
 mournful upon the ear. Out in the middle of 
 the stream, in the white light of the moon, some 
 vowed they saw the spirit ship speed by, while 
 others as distinctly heard a low, melodious wail 
 come down the glistening road, which led right 
 up to the moon, and which only the white 
 spirits of the blest can travel. Others, who 
 had seen nothing, held their peace; but as they 
 looked across the stream, away into the night 
 beyond, they shivered at the sudden loneliness 
 which had fallen upon the world. 
 
 But upon him who had made sweet music, to 
 whom the nights were full of light and loveli-
 
 160 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 ness, a greater loneliness had suddenly fallen. 
 Disguised as a native, all had hitherto gone 
 well with him. He had been conducted to 
 Phrada's presence, and from it, without en- 
 countering opposition, or arousing the least 
 suspicion ; but one night the apartments of the 
 princess were suddenly invaded by the guards 
 of the royal household and of what followed 
 the people speak in awed whispers. 
 
 The fury of the king was boundless. He 
 would have had Stangate impaled, cut to pieces, 
 tortured as never human being was tortured 
 before, had not a greater monarch than he sent 
 the culprit to his court a monarch whom he 
 feared would exact grim reparation. But the 
 woman, his sister, was his subject, his slave, and 
 upon her he vented his fury. Tales of strangu- 
 lation, of impalement, of quarterings, of a dozen 
 horrid and hideous tortures were whispered 
 through the streets of the city, tales of such 
 horror and inhuman cruelty that the frightened 
 people averted their eyes as they passed the 
 palace walls. And it was said that when the 
 last indignity had been committed upon the 
 once beautiful body, the mangled remains were 
 borne out through the palace gate and flung
 
 BROWN AND WHITE 161 
 
 to the vultures and the wild beasts. Thus died 
 Phrada the Beautiful, the flower of the royal 
 house, and all because she had loved the white 
 stranger better than her royal name. 
 
 Of him strange tales are rife. Some say he 
 went mad and killed himself; others, that the 
 gods whom he worshipped suddenly struck him 
 dead for his sins. At all events, he mysteriously 
 disappeared, none knew whither. But the 
 sampan people, and those who live on the 
 banks of the river, say that the night after her 
 body was thrown to the vultures they saw the 
 white boat come gliding down the moonlit 
 stream as of yore. Across the water stole the 
 low notes of a plaintive song a wail of desola- 
 tion. Then the boat swept on into the shadows 
 of the night. 
 
 On the following morning, strange to say, 
 Stangate's boat was found floating bottom up- 
 wards a few miles below the town, but of him 
 there was no sign nor trace.
 
 KITSUNE 
 
 THEY called her kitsune, or fox-woman, because 
 her vicious beauty so entranced the souls of men 
 that she made beasts of them. The old Izumo 
 superstition of the spirit-foxes is not yet dead, 
 though the Westernised Japanese may laugh 
 at it out of the fulness of his knowledge. Many 
 people really believed that she was possessed 
 of a devil in the shape of a spirit-fox a mon- 
 strous demon with pink eyes and great white 
 teeth ; nay, some of them had even gone so far 
 as to say that they had seen his big bushy tail 
 peeping out from beneath the bottom of her 
 kimono. At any rate, they knew without doubt 
 that she worshipped at the fox-shrine, and 
 brought mochi and other dainties that a spirit- 
 fox might eat. It was, of course, merely the 
 Western idea of giving a dog a bad name, for 
 Setsu was bad, bad as she could be. No one 
 who got into her clutches escaped, unless 
 
 162
 
 K I T S U N E 163 
 
 through beggary or dishonour ; and yet no one 
 who looked into her soft brown eyes, her 
 innocent, childish face, could believe half the 
 evil things that were said of her. Still the 
 people called her kitsune, or fox-woman per- 
 haps the deadliest form of insult known in all 
 Japan. 
 
 By profession she was a. geisha, a dancer and 
 singer. Sold when quite a child, she had under- 
 gone a laborious preparation with her new 
 owners, who not alone taught her to sing and 
 dance divinely, but who also instructed her in 
 every known art of pleasing man. And when 
 at length she went out to dance before the 
 rich and the noble, she knew her face was one 
 that set the hearts of men beating madly ; and 
 knowing that youth is but the sweet blossom of 
 a summer's day, she made all haste to prepare 
 for the long, blossomless winter. Taught that 
 money is the only god worth worshipping, and 
 that disinterested love is madness, she never 
 forgot her teaching. In the midst of her wildest 
 excesses she had guarded her heart with a 
 pertinacity which drove her lovers frantic. On 
 one and all she smiled in the same sweet way, 
 and each thought himself the favoured one ; but
 
 164 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 to Setsu's heart no throb of real love ever came 
 till she looked into Farrington's strange eyes. 
 
 She had never seen such a face, such eyes. 
 Like a creature of another world he seemed as 
 he stood among the other men. She came to 
 him and curtsied, using all the old tricks of eye 
 and posture, but he only bowed gravely. It was 
 as though he had dealt her a smack in the face, 
 for it was the first time she had ever received 
 such a rebuff. Men, hitherto, had been only too 
 willing to profess themselves her slaves, had 
 seemed highly gratified at any little attention 
 from her. She was famous, in her way, and as 
 such attracted the curious of all nations ; but 
 like all famous people she had no mean opinion 
 of herself. In the East a certain class of woman 
 is not so much beyond the pale as her less 
 fortunate Western sister, and Setsu, who was 
 rich and kept a fine house and plenty of 
 servants, had a certain amount of dignity to 
 humour. Her hospitality was unbounded, but 
 in return for it she expected the deference due 
 to her position. 
 
 And yet this apparent neglect of her, while 
 at first arousing some antagonism, ended in her 
 evincing a most marked interest in him. There
 
 KITSUNE 165 
 
 was something in his serious face, in the odd, 
 almost pathetic, way in which he looked at her, 
 that awoke her curiosity. He was like no other 
 foreigner that she had ever seen. There was 
 none of the looseness in his manners, the 
 wickedness in his looks, that she had noted in 
 all others of his race. He treated her with the 
 courtesy of a Japanese. 
 
 She slipped from the room, leaving the babble 
 of voices behind, and stole out to the verandah. 
 The air was delightfully cool : the soft fresh 
 breeze soothed her aching brain. Above her in 
 a deep blue sky swam the moon and stars, the 
 latter reminding her in some vague way of his 
 eyes, those eyes which had looked with such 
 ineffable pity into hers. At first she did not 
 understand ; then vague suggestions swept 
 trembling through her brain. Could he despise 
 her for what she was? At first she laughed 
 softly at the thought ; she who knew nothing 
 of morality except its meaning, who had been 
 taught the life, whose gospel was the face of 
 Mammon. She laughed as she thought of the 
 fools who cower before an idea. Yet it was 
 well for her and her kind that the rest of her sex 
 were so stupid. 
 
 L2
 
 166 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 And yet, despite her training, the more she 
 thought the less absurd grew this despised 
 stupidity, though her mind utterly failed to 
 grasp the real meaning of her life. What was 
 she, a geisha, a dancing-girl, a hired automaton 
 the despised of those who paid her to amuse 
 them ? Who expected anything from such a 
 person? And they had called her kitsune, 
 devil, vampire. She knew it all, though few 
 dared to speak it to her face. Yet she 
 remembered when the mother of Yoshira came 
 Yoshira, the young artist whom she had loved 
 for a month and then driven to his death. She 
 shuddered even now as she thought of the 
 dreadful form of hara-kiri he chose. She heard 
 the horrid word then, as the broken-hearted 
 mother called down the curses of heaven upon 
 her kitsune, kitsune ! Her lips grew white, 
 her eyes dilated with terror : she was never so 
 near fainting in her life. After that she was 
 never ' at home ' to mothers. 
 
 Well, let them call her what they liked. 
 The battle had been a bitter one, but the 
 victory was hers. At least, she had gathered 
 in the spoil. 
 
 She never went out to dance or sing now.
 
 K I T S U N E 167 
 
 Long ago her freedom had been purchased, and 
 she never danced except to please herself, or 
 entertain her guests. But at heart she was still 
 a geisha : in inclination whatever the passing 
 moment made her. Warped utterly was the 
 moral side of her, or, let us say, she had risen 
 superior to the traditions of her sex. 
 
 She turned with a soft laugh from the soft 
 night. Life had been pleasant enough after all, 
 and the blossom of youth would soon fade. 
 She started, the low, reckless laugh dying on 
 her lips. There before her, the same masterful 
 look on his white face, stood Farrington. She 
 bowed low and began to tremble. It was 
 curious, tantalising, the influence of this man. 
 She was no longer Setsu the reckless geisha, 
 Setsu the rich, the beautiful, but an insignificant 
 atom of humanity quivering in the presence of 
 her lord. And yet his voice was soft and kind, 
 and he spoke to her as no one had ever spoken 
 before, telling her strange new things of the sky, 
 the stars, the moon, and of the planet upon 
 which we live things too wonderful for her 
 poor comprehension, but which sounded grand 
 and godlike coming from his lips. And when, 
 as he said good-bye, he for a moment laid a
 
 168 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 hand on her shoulder, she felt a strange quiver 
 of delight shoot through her being. And so 
 he went, no word of love having passed his 
 lips. She watched his tall form disappear in 
 the night, and with a sigh she re-entered the 
 house. 
 
 He did not call again for a long time after 
 this, so long that she thought he would never 
 come ; but one night he appeared looking 
 pale and ill, and to her eager inquiries confessed 
 that he was not feeling well. She immediately 
 stopped all noise, banished every one from the 
 room, arranged the cushions for him and made 
 him lie at his ease. She brought him wines, 
 sweetmeats, perfumes ; she tempted him in her 
 pretty way to eat, drink. Never having had an 
 hour's illness herself, it was the only idea she 
 had of doctoring people. He drank deeply, 
 having a burning thirst, but eat he could not. 
 She grew alarmed, but he told her if she would 
 sit beside him it would be worth all the food in 
 the world. A deep flush sprang from her eyes 
 to her neck, and, oddly enough, she trembled, 
 irresolute. Then she nestled in among the 
 cushions by his side. And, with all the long 
 pent-up intensity of her soul, she worshipped
 
 KITS UN E 169 
 
 this man who was so raised above all earthly 
 passion. 
 
 Two days later Farrington took to his bed, 
 a violent fever laying him prostrate. For 
 weeks he lay in a state of semi-unconsciousness. 
 But when he opened his eyes to the world 
 again, the first thing he saw was the little white 
 pinched face of Setsu hovering above him. 
 Wondering if he still dreamt, he closed his 
 eyes, opening them slowly. No, it was no 
 dream. Only the face was white, the eyes more 
 sunken. Intuitively he guessed the truth. 
 
 * Setsu,' he murmured. 
 
 She took his white pinched hand in hers, and, 
 pressing her lips to it, sobbed with a great joy. 
 He knew her ! He had come back from the 
 grave, back to life again. 
 
 ' What does it mean?' he afterwards asked the 
 doctor. ' Why is Setsu here ? ' 
 
 'When she knew you were ill she plagued 
 us to death till we admitted her. I had some 
 scruples at first, but I 'm glad for your sake 
 that I didn't hold out. My dear fellow, you 
 owe her your life.' 
 
 A thick mist swam before Farrington's eyes. 
 
 * Tell me,' he said.
 
 i ;o YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 1 For five weeks she has scarcely stirred from 
 your side, night or day. Egad, I never saw 
 such nursing in my life, and I, as you know, am 
 not altogether inexperienced. Such assiduity, 
 tenderness egad, it 's the finest bit of devotion 
 on record. And Setsu, too ; Setsu, of all people 
 in the world. ' 
 
 1 And why not Setsu ? Is she not human ? ' 
 
 * Very, I always thought,' was the answer ; 
 ' but, egad, I Ve been mistaken. She 's an 
 angel.' 
 
 Farrington sighed. An angel truly, that had 
 trailed her beautiful wings in the mire. 
 
 ' I thought she looked pale and thin,' he said. 
 ' Is it so, or only my fancy ? ' 
 
 'True, I'm sorry to say. She has worn 
 herself to a shadow. But now that you are 
 out of danger she will be able to take more 
 rest.' 
 
 ' Please send her to me.' 
 
 She came in shyly, her white tabi gliding 
 noiselessly over the soft matting. Her little 
 face was wan and worn, her eyes hollow and 
 sunken. Her rich embroidered robes were 
 exchanged for the dull blue kimono worn by the 
 poorer classes. The radiant, voluptuous Setsu
 
 KITSUNE 171 
 
 no longer existed. Only a pale, shrinking little 
 woman in a blue kimono. 
 
 He took her hand and pressed it to his 
 lips. 
 
 ' They have just told me all that you have 
 done,' he said. ' How can I thank you ? ' 
 
 She did not answer, but kneeling by the side 
 of the bed covered his hands with tears and 
 kisses. 
 
 But while the man grew better the woman 
 rapidly developed acute symptoms of the 
 disease which had laid him low. Fatigue and 
 anxiety had done their work. Yet she per- 
 severed bravely, attending to him while she 
 could stand ; and when at last she was forced 
 to take to bed, it seemed as though she only 
 feared that he might be neglected. This they 
 assured her should not be. Moreover, he was 
 quite out of danger now, and would soon be out 
 of bed and able to look after himself. When 
 she heard this a smile of ineffable joy stole 
 across her wan face, and, tired out with her long 
 vigil, she fell asleep. 
 
 That night the delirium attacked her in its 
 most virulent form, and when the dull day at 
 last broke through the shutters, and found its
 
 172 YELLOW AND WHITE 
 
 way in thin white shafts over to the little bed in 
 the corner, it saw that death had been there 
 before it. 
 
 And thus died Setsu the kitsune, the vampire, 
 the woman without a heart 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty 
 at the Edinburgh University Press
 
 John Lane 
 
 VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. 
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth. Each volume with a Title-page and Cover 
 Design by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. 33. 6d. net. 
 
 I. KEYNOTES. By GEORGE EGERTON. Seventh Edition. 
 n. THE DANCING FAUN. By FLORENCE FARR. 
 
 in. POOR FOLK. By FEDOR DOSTOIEVSKY. Translated 
 from the Russian by LENA MlLMAN. With an 
 Introduction by GEORGE MOORE. 
 
 iv. A CHILD OF THE AGE. By FRANCIS ADAMS. 
 
 v. THE GREAT GOD PAN AND THE INMOST LIGHT. 
 By ARTHUR MACHEN. Second Edition. 
 
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 KEYNOTES. By GEORGE EGERTON. With Title-page by 
 AUBREY BEARDSLEY. Crown 8vo, cloth, 33. 6d. net. 
 
 1 Emboldened, doubtless, by the success of " Dodo," the author of " Key- 
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 shock you with disregard o_f conventionality and reticencies, but you will 
 all the same have to admit its fascination. There can be no doubt that in 
 Mr. George Egerton his publishers have discovered a story-teller of genius. 
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 but it is nevertheless a verdict which Mr. George Egerton can hardly 
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 ?ulsive life in every word of it. It has passion, ardour, vehement romance, 
 t is full of youth ; often enough the revolt and despair of youth.' Irish 
 Independent. 
 
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 or old. . . . She allows us, like the great artists of old, Shakespeare and 
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 understands men ; and, more than this, she understands women. . . . For 
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 POOR FOLK. Translated from the Russian of FEDOR 
 DOSTOIEVSKY. By LENA MILMAN. With an Intro- 
 duction by GEORGE MOORE, and a Title-page and Cover 
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 lachrymce rerum.' Star. 
 
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 humour and pathos that they haunt the memory.' Daily News. 
 
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 pathos. ' Scotsman. 
 
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 a work of genius.' Black and White. 
 
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 because its tragedy is so repressed.' Bookman. 
 
 ' As to novels, the very finest I have read of late or for long is ' ' Poor Folk, 
 by Fedor Dostoievsky, translated by Miss Lena Milman.' Truth. 
 
 ' A book to be read for the merits of jts execution. The translator by 
 the way has turned it into excellent English.' Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 ' The narrative vibrates with feeling, and these few unstudied letters con- 
 vey to us a cry from the depths of a famished_ human soul. As far as we 
 can judge, the English rendering, tho_ugh simple, retains that ring of 
 emotion which must dissinguish the original.' Westminster Review. 
 
 ' One of the most striking studies in plain and simple realism which was 
 ever written.' Daily Telegraph. 
 
 ' " Poor Folk" is certainly a vivid and pathetic story.' Globe. 
 
 ' A triumph of realistic art a masterpiece of a great writer." Morning 
 Post. 
 
 'Dostoievsky's novel has met with that rare advantage, a really good 
 translator. ' Queen. 
 
 'This admirable translation of a great author.' Liverpool Mercury. 
 
 ' " Poor Folk" Englished does not read like a translation indubitably a 
 masterpiece.' Literary World. 
 
 ' Told with a gradually deepening intensity and force, a pathetic truth- 
 fulness which lives in the memory.' Leeds Mercury. 
 
 'What Charles Dickens in his attempts to reproduce the sentiment and 
 pathos of the humble deceived himself and others into thinking that he did, 
 that Fedor Dostoievsky actually does.' Manchester Guardian. 
 
 ' It is a story that leaves the reader almost stunned. Miss Milman's 
 translation is admirable.' Gentlewoman. 
 
 ' The translation appears to be well done so far as we have compared it 
 with the original.' W. R. MORFILL in The Academy. 
 
 1 A most impressive and characteristic specimen of Russian fiction. 
 Those to whom Russian is a sealed book will be duly grateful to the trans- 
 lator (who has acquitted herself excellently), to Mr. Moore, and to the 
 publisher for this presentment of Dostoievsky's remarkable novel.' Times
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 A CHILD OF THE AGE. By FRANCIS ADAMS. Title- 
 page and Cover Design by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. Crown 
 8vo, 33. 6d. net. 
 
 ' English or foreign, there is no work among those now before me which 
 is so original as that of the late Francis Adams. " A Child of the Age " is 
 original, moving, often fascinating.' Academy. 
 
 ' A great deal of cleverness and perhaps something more has gone to the 
 writing of " A Child of the Age." ' Vanity Fair. 
 
 ' It comes recognisably near to great excellence. There is a love episode 
 in this book which is certainly fine. Clearly conceived and expressed with 
 point.' Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 ' Those whose actual experience or natural intuition will enable them to 
 see beneath the mere narrative, will appreciate the perfect art with which 
 a boy of nineteen this was the author's age when the book was written 
 has treated one of the most delicate subjects on which a man can write 
 the history of his own innermost feelings.' Weekly Sun. 
 
 ' The book possesses a depth and clearness of insight, a delicacy of touch, 
 and a brilliancy and beauty of style very remarkable in so young a writer.' 
 Weekly Scotsman. 
 
 " ' A Child of the Age " is as fully saturated with the individuality of its 
 author as " Wuthering Heights" was saturated with the individuality of 
 Emily Bronte.' Daily Chronicle. 
 
 ' I am writing about the book because it is one you should read, for it is 
 typical of a certain sort of character and contains some indubitable excel- 
 lences.' Pall A! all Budget. 
 
 ' Not faultless, indeed, but touched with the magic of real poetry ; with- 
 out the elaborate carving of the chisel. The love incident is exquisite and 
 exquisitely told. "Rosy" lives; her emotions stir us. Wonderfully sug- 
 gested in several parts of the work is the severe irony of nature before 
 profound human suffering.' Saturday Review. 
 
 'There is a bloom of romance upon their story which recalls Lucy and 
 
 Richard Feverel It is rarely that a novelist is able to suffuse bis 
 
 story with the first rosy purity of passion as Mr. Adams has done in this 
 book.' Realm. 
 
 ' Only a man of big talent could have produced it.' Literary World. 
 
 'A tale of fresh originality, deep spiritual meaning, and exceptional 
 power. It fairly buds, blossoms, and fruits with suggestions that search 
 the human spirit through. No similar production has come from the hand 
 of any author in our time. It exalts, inspires, comforts, and strengthens 
 all together. It instructs by suggestion, spiritualises the thought by its 
 elevating and purifying narrative, and feeds the hungering spirit with 
 food it is only too ready to accept and assimilate." Boston Courier, U.S.A. 
 
 1 It is a remarkable work as a pathological study almost unsurpassed. 
 It produces the impression of a photograph from life, so vividly realistic is 
 the treatment. To this result the author's style, with its fidelity of micro- 
 scopic detail, doubtless contributes.' Evening Traveller, U.S.A. 
 
 ' The story by Francis Adams is one to read slowly, and then to read a 
 second time. It is powerfully written, full of strong suggestion, unlike, 
 in fact, anything we have recently read. What he would have done in the 
 way of literary creation, had he lived, is, of course, only a matter of con- 
 jecture. What he did we have before us in this remarkable book.' Boston 
 Advertiser, U.S.A. _
 
 THE KEVNOTES SERIES 
 
 Second Edition now ready. 
 
 THE GREAT GOD PAN AND THE INMOST LIGHT. 
 By ARTHUR MACHEN. With Title-page and Cover 
 Design by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. Crown 8vo, 33. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 'Since Mr. Stevenson played with the crucibles of science in "Dr. 
 Jekyll and Mr. Hyde " we have not encountered a more successful experi- 
 ment of the sort.' Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 ' Nothing so appalling as these tales has been given to publicity within 
 our remembrance ; in which, nevertheless, such ghastly fictions as Poe's 
 "Telltale Heart," Bulwer's "The_ House and the Brain," and Le Fanu's 
 " In a Glass Darkly " still are vividly present. The supernatural element 
 is utilised with extraordinary power and effectiveness in both these blood- 
 chilling masterpieces.' Daily Telegraph. 
 
 ' He imparts the shudder of awe without giving rise to a feeling of disgust. 
 Let me strongly advise anyone anxious for a real, durable thrill, to get it.' 
 Woman. 
 
 ' A nightmarish business it is suggested, seemingly, by "Dr. Jekyll and 
 Mr. Hyde " and capital reading, we should say, for ghouls and vampires 
 in their leisure moments." Daily Chronicle. 
 
 ' The rest we leave for those whose nerves are strong, merely saying that 
 since "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," we have read nothing so uncanny.' 
 The Literary World. 
 
 'The literature of the "supernatural" has recently been supplemented 
 by two striking books, which carry on with much ability the traditions of 
 Sheridan Le Fanu : one is " The Great God Pan," by Arthur Machen.' 
 Star. 
 
 'Will arouse the sort of interest that was created by "Dr. Jekyll and 
 Mr. Hyde." The tales present a frankly impossible horror, which, never- 
 theless, kindles the imagination and excites a powerful curiosity. It is 
 almost a book of genius, and we are not sure that the safeguarding adverb 
 is not superfluous.' Birmingham Post. 
 
 ' The coarser terrors of Edgar Allen Poe do not leave behind them the 
 shudder that one feels at the shadowed devil-mysteries of "The Great God 
 Pan." ' Liverpool Mercury. 
 
 4 If any one labours under a burning desire to experience the sensation 
 familiarly known as making one's flesh creep, he can hardly do better than 
 read "The Great God Pan." ' Speaker. 
 
 ' For sheer gruesome horror Mr. Machen's story, "The Great God Pan," 
 surpasses anything that has been published for a long time.' Scots-man. 
 
 ' Nothing more striking or more skilful than this book has been produced 
 in the way of what one may call Borderland fiction since Mr. Stevenson's 
 indefatigable Brownies gave the world " Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." ' 
 Glasgow Herald. 
 
 ' The mysteries he deals with lie far beyond the reach of ordinary human 
 experience, and as they are vague, though so horror-producing, he wisely 
 treats them with a reticence that, while it accords with the theme, im- 
 mensely heightens the effect.' Dundee Advertiser. 
 
 'The author is an artist, and tells his tale with reticence and grace, 
 hinting the demoniac secret at first obscurely, and only gradually permit- 
 ting the reader to divine how near to us are the infernal powers, and how 
 terribly they satiate their lusts and wreak their malice upon mankind. It 
 is a work of something like genius, fascinating and fearsome.' Bradford 
 Observer.
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 ' They are fitting companions to the famous stories by Edgar Allan Poe 
 both in matter and style,' Boston Home Journal, U.S.A. 
 
 ' They are horror stories, the horror being of the vague psychologic kind 
 and dependent in each case upon a man of science, who tries to effect a 
 change in individual personality by an operation upon the brain cells. 
 The implied lesson is that it is dangerous and unwise to seek to probe the 
 mystery separating mind and matter. These sketches are extremely 
 strong, and we guarantee the shivers to anyone who reads them.' Hart- 
 ford Courant, U.S.A. 
 
 Fourth Edition now ready. 
 
 DISCORDS. By GEORGE EGERTON. With Title-page and 
 Cover Design by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. Crown 8vo, 
 33. 6d. net. 
 
 ' We have the heights as well as the depths of life. The transforming 
 touch of_beauty is upon it, of that poetry of conception beneath whose spell 
 nothing is ugly or unclean.' Star. 
 
 'The writer is a warm-blooded enthusiast, not a cold-blooded 
 "scientist." In the long run perhaps it will do som good.' National 
 Observer. 
 
 'The power and passion which every reader felt in "Keynotes" are 
 equally present in this new volume. But there is also in at least equal 
 measure that artistic force and skill which went so far to overcome the 
 repugnance which many felt to the painful dissection of feminine nature.' 
 North British Daily Mail. 
 
 ' Force of conception and power of vivid presentment mark these sketches, 
 and are sure to impress all who read them.' Birmingham Post. 
 
 ' Written with all "George Egerton's" eloquence and fervour.' York- 
 shire Herald. 
 
 1 It almost takes one's breath away by its prodigious wrong-headedness, 
 its sheer impudence.' MR. A. B. WALKLEY in The Morning Leader. 
 
 1 The wonderful power of observation, the close analysis and the really 
 brilliant writing revealed in parts of this volume .... George Egerton" 
 would seem to be well equipped for the task.' Cork Examiner. 
 
 ' Readers who have a leaning to psychological fiction, and who revel in 
 such studies of character as George Meredith's " Diana of the Crossways" 
 will find much to interest them in these clever stories.' Western Daily 
 Press. 
 
 ' There is no escape from the fact that it is vividly interesting.' The 
 Christian World. 
 
 1 With all her realism there is a refinement and a pathos and a brilliance 
 of style that lift the book into a region altogether removed from the merely 
 sensational or the merely repulsive. It is a book that one might read with 
 a pencil in his hand, for it is studded with many fine, vivid passages.' 
 Weekly Scotsman. 
 
 ' She has many fine qualities. Her work throbs with temperament, and 
 here and there we come upon touches that linger in the memory as of things 
 felt and seen, not read of.' Daily News. 
 
 1 Mrs. Grundy, to whom they would be salutary, will not be induced to 
 read either " Keynotes" or "Discords." Westminster Gazette. 
 
 ' What an absorbing, wonderful book it is : How absolutely sincere, and 
 how finely wrong ! George Egerton may be what the indefatigable Mr. 
 Zangwill calls a one-I'd person, but she is a literary artist of exceptional 
 endowment probably a genius.' Woman.
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 ' She has given, times without number, examples of her ripening powers 
 that astonish us. Her themes astound ; her audacity is tremendous. In 
 the many great passages an advance is proved that is little short of amaz- 
 ing.' Literary World. 
 
 'Interesting and skilfully written." Sunday Times. 
 
 'A series of undoubtedly clever stories, told with a poetic dreaminess 
 which softens the rugged truths of which they treat. Mothers might benefit 
 themselves and convey help to young girls who are about to be married by 
 the perusal of its pages.' Liverpool Mercury. 
 
 ' They are the work of an author of considerable power, not to say genius. 
 Scotsman. 
 
 ' The book is true to human nature, for the author has genius, and, let us 
 add, has heart. It is representative ; it is, in the hackneyed phrase, a 
 human document. 1 Speaker. 
 
 ' It is another note in the great chorus of revolt ... on the whole 
 clearer, more eloquent, and braver than almost any I have yet heard.' 
 T. P. (' Book of the Week '), Weekly Sun, December 30. 
 
 ' These masterly word-sketches.' Daily Telegrap/t. 
 
 ' Were it possible to have my favourite sketches and stories from both 
 volumes (" Keynotes " and "Discords") bound together in one, I should 
 }ook upon myself as a very fortunate traveller ; one who had great pleasure, 
 if not exactly happiness, within her reach.' Lady's Pictorial. 
 
 ' But in all this there is a rugged grandeur of style, a keen analysis of 
 motive, and a deepness of pathos that stamp George Egerton as one of the 
 greatest women writers of the day.' Boston Traveller, U.S.A. 
 
 'The story of the child, of the girl, and of the woman is told, and told 
 by one to whom the mysteries of the life of each are familiarly known, In 
 their very truth, as the writer has so subtly analysed her triple characters, 
 they sadden one to think that such things must be ; yet as they are real, 
 they are bound to be disclosed by somebody, and indue time.' Boston 
 Courier, U.S.A. 
 
 Sixteenth Edition just ready. 
 
 THE WOMAN WHO DID. By GRANT ALLEN. With 
 Title-page and Cover Design by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. 
 Crown 8vo, 33. 6d. net. 
 
 'There is not a sensual thought or suggestion throughout the whole 
 volume. Though I dislike and disbelieve in his gospel, I thoroughly 
 respect Mr. Grant Allen for having stated it so honourably and so bravely." 
 Academy. 
 
 ' Even its bitterest enemies must surely feel some thrill of admiration for 
 its courage. It is, once more, one philosopher against the world. Not in 
 our day, perhaps, can it be decided which is right, Mr. Grant Allen, or the 
 world. Perhaps our children's children will some day be canonising Mr. 
 Grant Allen for the very book for which to-day he stands a much greater 
 chance of being stoned, and happy lovers of the new era bless the name of 
 the man who, almost single-handed, fought the battle of Free Love. 
 Time alone can say. . . . None but the most foolish or malignant readei 
 of ' The Woman Who Did ' can fail to recognise the noble purpose which 
 animates its pages. . . . Label it as one will, it remains a clever, stimu- 
 lating book. A real enthusiasm for humanity blazes through every page 
 of this, in many ways, remarkable and significant little book.' Sketch. 
 
 'The book is interesting, as embodying the carefully thought-ouv 
 theories of so distinguished a writer.' Literary World.
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 ' Mr. Grant Allen has undoubtedly produced an epoch-making book, and 
 one which will be a living voice when most of the novels of this generation 
 have passed away into silence. It is epoch-making in the sense that 
 " Uncle Tom's Cabin" was ; the literary merits of that work were by no 
 means great, but yet it rang like a tocsin through the land, arousing mankind 
 to a sense of the slavery under which a large portion of humanity suffered. 
 Humanitarian, 
 
 ' Interesting, and even absorbing.' Weekly Sun, 
 
 ' His sincerity is undeniable. And in the mouth of Herminia are some 
 very noble and eloquent passages upon the wrongs of our marriage sys- 
 tem. 'Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 ' A tale of purity and innocence unparalleled since the " Garden of 
 Eden" or " Paul and Virginia."' Daily Express. 
 
 'A remarkable and powerful story. It increases pur respect for Mr. 
 Allen's ability, nor do we feel inclined to join in throwing stones at him as 
 a perverter of our morals and our social institutions. However widely we 
 may differ from Mr. Allen's views on many important questions, we are 
 bound to recognise his sincerity, and to respect him accordiugly.' Speaker. 
 
 ' The story is as remarkable for its art as its daring, and well deserves a 
 place in the remarkable series in which it has been published.' The 
 Scotsman. 
 
 ' Herminia is a rare and fine creature.' Daily Chronicle. 
 
 ' An artist in words and a writer of deep feeling has lavished his best 
 powers in the production of "The Woman Who Did." The story is 
 charmingly told. Delineated with a delicacy and strength of touch that 
 cannot but delight the most fastidious reader. Mr. Grant Allen draws a 
 picture of a sweet and pure and beautiful woman. The book is very 
 beautiful and very sad.' Liverpool Mercury. 
 
 ' The book (for it is well written and clever) ought to be the last note in 
 the chorus of revolt. For it proves to demonstration the futility of the 
 attempt.' Sun. 
 
 ' We cannot too highly commend the conspicuous and transparent purity 
 of the handling." Public Opinion. 
 
 ' He conclusively shows that if the marriage laws need revision, yet the 
 sweetness and seemliness of home, the dignity of woman as mother or as 
 man's helpmeet, are rooted in the sanctity of wedlock." Daily News. 
 
 ' Mr. Grant Alien deserves thanks for treating with such delicacy 
 problem which stands in such pressing need of solution as the reform of 
 our stern marriage laws. ' Echo. 
 
 ' Its merits are large and hi interest profound." Weekly Scotsman. 
 ' It may not merit praise, but it merits reading." Saturday Review. 
 
 PRINCE ZALESKI. By M. P. SHIEL. With Title-page 
 by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d. net. 
 
 'Mr. M. P. Shiel has in this volume produced something which is 
 always rare, and which is every year becoming a greater rarity a work 
 of literary invention characterised by substantial novelty. We havj 
 Poe's analysis and Poe's glamour, but they are no longer distinct ; they 
 are combined in a new synthesis which stamps a new imaginative impres- 
 sion. A finely wrought structure in which no single line impairs the 
 symmetry and proportion. One of the most boldly-planned and strik- 
 in,ly-executed stories of its kind which has appeared for many a long
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 day. We believe there is_ nothing in "Prince Zaleski " which that great 
 inventor and masterly manipulator of the spoils of invention (Poe) would 
 have disdained to father.' Daily Chronicle. 
 
 'Should obtain popularity. Written in an easy and clear style. The 
 author shows an amount of ingenuity and capacity for plot considerably 
 above the average. The reader will find it difficult to put the book down 
 before he has satisfied his curiosity to the last page.' Weekly Sun. 
 
 'The Prince was a Sherlock Holmes, with this difference: that while 
 yielding nothing to Conan Doyle's hero in mere intellectual agility, he 
 had that imaginative insight which makes poets more frequently than 
 detectives. Sherlock Holmes was a clever but essentially commonplace 
 man. Prince Zaleski was a great man, simply. Enthralling . . . once 
 begun they insist on being finished. Broadly and philosophically con- 
 ceived, and put together with rare narrative skill, and feeling for effect.' 
 Woman. 
 
 There is a strange, fantastic ingenuity in all the stories, while a strong 
 dash of mysticism gives them a peculiar flavour that differentiates them 
 from the ordinary detective story. They are clever and curious, and will 
 appeal to all lovers of the transcendental and improbable.' The Scotsman. 
 
 'Thoroughly entertaining, and the chief figure is undeniably pic- 
 turesque.' Yorkshire Post. 
 
 'An abundance of ingenuity and quaint out-of-tne-way learning mark 
 the three stories contained in this volume.' Liverpool Mercury. 
 
 ' He has imparted to the three tales in this volume something of that 
 atmosphere of eerie fantasy which Poe knew how to conjure, proceeding 
 by the analysis of a baffling intricacy of detail to an unforeseen conclusion. 
 The themes and their treatment are alike highly imaginative.' Daily 
 News. 
 
 ' Manifestly written by one of Poe's true disciples. His analytical skill 
 is not that of the detective, even of so brilliant a detective as Mr. Sherlock 
 Holmes. Probably his exploits will interest the public far less than did 
 those of Mr. Doyle's famous character; but the select few, who can 
 appreciate delicate work, will delight in thetr exceedingly.' Speaker. 
 
 'Truth to tell we like our Sherlock better in his new dress. The 
 book will please those who love a good old-fashioned riddle, and a good 
 new-fangled answer.' National Observer. 
 
 ' Has genuine literary merit, and possesses entrancing interest. A kind 
 of Sherlock Holmes, though of a far more finished type than Mr. Conan 
 Doyle's famous creation. The remarkable ingenuity of Mr. Shiel worthy 
 of Edgar Allen Poe at his best in tracing out the mystery surrounding 
 the death of Lord Pharanx, the Stone of the Edmundsbury Monks, and the 
 Society of Sparta, constitutes a veritable tour de force. We have nothing 
 but praise for this extraordinarily clever and interesting volume." White- 
 hall Review. 
 
 ' Worked out very ingeniously, and we are thoroughly impressed by the 
 Prince's mental powers.' Sunday Times. 
 
 'A clever, extravagant, and lurid little book.' Westminster Gazette. 
 
 'Mr. Shiel's mysteries are very good, and he has put them into literary 
 form." Bookman. 
 
 'They are fascinating in spite of the demands they make upon our 
 credulity.' Times. 
 
 ' Imagination of the weirdest and the strangest runs rife. The personage 
 of the title is a sort of dilettante Sherlock Holmes, but with far weirder 
 
 Eroblems to unravel than ever fell to the lot of Dr. Doyle's detective. The 
 ook contains three stories, reminding one now of Poe and now of Steven- 
 son's "New Arabian Nights," all told with convincing art and a power of 
 uncommon invention which few writers have equalled. Will give you some 
 exciting hours.' Review of Reviews,
 
 THE KEYNOTES SERIES 
 
 WOMEN'S TRAGEDIES. By H. D. LOWRY. With Title- 
 page and Cover Design by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. Crown 
 8vo, 35. 6d. net. 
 
 1 He is the master of a style singularly strenuous and sensitive. What he 
 sees he can express with marvellous vividness. There is nothing more 
 terrible and perfect of its kind than his story, "The Man in the Room." 
 It is magnificently done, powerfully imagined, and convincingly presented.' 
 Black and White. 
 
 'Mr. Lowry's "Women's Tragedies" are the most striking thumbnail 
 sketches since Mr. Quiller Couch idly ceased to write his wonderful 
 " Noughts and Crosses." ' Star. 
 
 ' A collection of vivid sketches from life.' Liverpool Mercury. 
 
 ' A wide and critical section of the reading public will be ready to welcome 
 " Women's Tragedies." The author has not a little of the ancient mariner's 
 power. He creates a situation which holds the reader mentally spellbound, 
 and leaves an impression not readily effaced . . . sombre, even eerie, they 
 prove, and yet strong with the author's power to fascinate.' Dundee 
 Advertiser, 
 
 ' The chief charm of the stories is the delicacy and strength with which 
 they are wrought, and the genuine insight into human nature which they 
 show. ' Scotsman. 
 
 ' He is a master of a simple, forcible style ; he has a deep insight into 
 human nature, a strong and active imagination ; and, above all, he has 
 that indescribable knack of making interesting the commonplace things of 
 existence. This collection of stories will be read with genuine pleasure, 
 and will do much to advance the reputation of the author.' Weekly Scots- 
 man. 
 
 ' In Mr. Lowry's latest book we have some healthy studies of human 
 nature, stories which are full of strong, deep, and simple emotion. This is 
 the fiction, simple and human, real and beautiful, which rebukes at one 
 and the same time the sentimentality of English art and the unhealthiness 
 of French.' Western Daily Mercury. 
 
 ' It is a profoundly interesting and powerful volume.' Whitehall Review. 
 
 ' "The Man in the Room" is certainly the strongest There is a subtle 
 and complete knowledge of the woman of the tragedy, an insight and 
 mastery which is never paraded, but is governed, restrained, and used. 
 The author is an artist well understanding the use of a touch of the 
 grotesque for the heightening of the tragedy.' Realm. 
 
 ' His stories are clever and intensely dramatic. We cannot overlook the 
 power of imagination and of literary expression which Mr. Lowry's book 
 reveals. Staajps its writer as a man of great gifts.' Independent. 
 
 ' Is written with a good deal of distinction. No one can deny the charm 
 of such stories as "Beauty's Lovers" and "The Sisters," and "The Man 
 in the Room" has both a gracefully drawn heroine and a good deal of 
 weird power.' Queen. 
 
 ' He can imagine scenes and incidents of the most dramatic intensity and 
 put them before us in half a dozen pages.' Glasgow Evening News. 
 
 ' Remind us frequently of Mr. Hardy's " Life's Little Ironies." Exhibit 
 no little artistic power.' Methodist Recorder, 
 
 'Are very real and strong, very grim. The language is very simple, 
 direct, and, in necessary consequence, expressive.' National Observer. 
 
 ' The stories are told in fresh, bright, unaffected fashion.' Sunday 
 Times.
 
 1895. 
 
 List of Books 
 
 IN 
 
 BELLES LETTRES 
 
 {Including some Transfers} 
 
 Published by John Lane 
 
 VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. 
 
 N.B. The Authors and Publisher reserve the right of reprinting 
 any book in this list if a new edition is called for, except in cases 
 where a stipulation has been made to the contrary, and of printing 
 a separate edition of any of the books for America irrespective of t lie 
 numbers to which the English editions are limited. The numbers 
 mentioned do not include copies sent to the public libraries, nor those 
 sent for review. 
 
 Most of the books are published simultaneously in England and 
 America, and in many instances the names of the American 
 Publishers are appended. 
 
 ADAMS (FRANCIS). 
 
 ESSAYS IN MODERNITY. Crown 8vo. 53. net. [Shortly. 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 
 A CHILD OF THE AGE. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 ALLEN (GRANT). 
 
 THE LOWER SLOPES : A Volume of Verse. With Title- 
 page and Cover Design by J. ILLINGWORTH KAY. 
 600 copies. Crown 8vo. 55. net. 
 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 THE WOMAN WHO DID. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.)
 
 THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE 
 
 BEARDSLEY (AUBREY). 
 
 THE STORY OF VENUS AND TANNHAUSER, in which is set 
 forth an exact account of the Manner of State held by 
 Madam Venus, Goddess and Meretrix, under the 
 famous Horselberg, and containing the adventures of 
 Tannhauser in that place, his repentance, his jour- 
 neying to Rome, and return to the loving mountain. 
 By AUBREY BEARDSLEY. With 20 full-page illus- 
 trations, numerous ornaments, and a cover from the 
 same hand. Sq, l6mo. I0s.6d.net. [In preparation. 
 
 BEDDOES (T. L.). 
 
 See GOSSE (EDMUND). 
 
 BEECHING (REV. H. C.). 
 
 IN A GARDEN : Poems. With Title-page designed o r 
 ROGER FRY. Crown 8vo. 55. net. 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 BENSON (ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER). 
 LYRICS. Fcap. 8vo., buckram. 53. net. 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 BROTHERTON (MARY). 
 
 ROSEMARY FOR REMEMBRANCE. With Title-page and 
 Cover Design by WALTER WEST. Fcap.Svo. 3s.6d.net. 
 
 CAMPBELL (GERALD). 
 
 THE JONESES AND THE ASTERISKS. With 6 Illustra- 
 tions and a Title-page by F. H. TOWNSEND. Fcap. 
 8vo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 New York : The Merriam Co. 
 
 CASTLE (MRS. EGERTON). 
 
 MY LITTLE LADY ANNE : A Romance. Sq. i6mo. 
 2s. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 Philadelphia : Henry Altemus. 
 
 CASTLE (EGERTON). 
 
 See STEVENSON (ROBERT Louis). 
 
 CROSS (VICTORIA). 
 
 CONSUMMATION : A Novel. Crown 8vo. 45. 6d. net. 
 
 [In preparation. 
 DALMON (C. W.). 
 
 SONG FAVOURS. With a specially-designed Title-page. 
 Sq. i6mo. 45. 6d. net. [In preparation. 
 
 Chicago : Way & Williams.
 
 THE PUBLICATIONS OF 
 
 D'ARCY (ELLA). 
 
 MONOCHROMES. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 DAVIDSON (JOHN). 
 
 PLAYS : An Unhistorical Pastoral ; A Romantic Farce ; 
 Bruce, a Chronicle Play ; Smith, a Tragic Farce ; 
 Scaramouch in Naxos, a Pantomime, with a Frontis- 
 piece and Cover Design by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. 
 Printed at the Ballantyne Press. 500 copies. Small 
 4to. 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 Chicago : Stone & Kimball. 
 
 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 55. 
 net. [Out of Print at present. 
 
 A RANDOM ITINERARY AND A BALLAD. With a Fron- 
 tispiece and Title-page by LAURENCE HOUSMAN. 
 600 copies. Fcap. 8vo, Irish Linen. 53. net. 
 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 BALLADS AND SONGS. With a Title-page and Cover 
 Design by WALTER WEST. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo, buckram. 53. net. 
 Boston : Copeland & Day. 
 
 DAWE (W. CARLTON). 
 
 YELLOW AND WHITE. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 DE TABLEY (LORD). 
 
 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRICAL. By JOHN LEICESTER 
 WARREN (Lord De Tabley). Illustrations and Cover 
 Design by C. S. RICKETTS. Second Edition. 
 Crown 8vo. 7 s - 6d. net. 
 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRICAL. Second Series, uni- 
 form in binding with the former volume. Crown 8vo. 
 5s. net. 
 New York : Macmillan & Co. 
 
 DIX (GERTRUDE). 
 
 THE GIRL FROM THE FARM. (See KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
 
 DOSTOIEVSKY (F.). 
 
 See KEYNOTES OERII s, Vol. in.
 
 JOHN LANE S 
 
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