  When we arrived on deck again the wind had freshened and the pleasant spell of weather we had lately experienced seemed likely to leave us. But our gallant Seagull headed the waves merrily, with scarcely any heaving of her swanlike body, and we knew her staunchness so well that we did not dread any weather that might overtake us. Finding a sheltered position in the waist, we three boys eagerly discussed our important interview with the Prince and the chances of success in the adventure offered us. “He’s made everything so blamed easy for us that it’s like taking candy from a babe,” said Archie, gleefully. “He has certainly proved himself a generous friend,” I assented. “It’s a pity he must die. I’d rather have him alive and my friend, than to get the treasure. Eh, Joe?” “Exactly,” answered Joe, in his quiet voice. “I like the chap, too,” said Archie, “but our sentiment won’t alter the facts in the case, will it? Here’s a treasure—and a whopper, too, I imagine—calling to us to come and take it, and——” “And here’s Mai Lo, who wants it himself,” added Joe. “Oh, him!” cried Archie, scornfully. “Joe’s right,” said I, thoughtfully; “Mai Lo is a power to be reckoned with. Even the Prince fears him.” “I don’t,” declared Archie, “the man’s a dummy. Anyone that’ll kow-tow and get on his knees the way this fellow does, is a coward and a sneak.” “The doctor,” said Joe, softly, “calls him ‘Old Death’s-Head.’” “Well, what of it?” “I’m afraid of Death.” We both started at this; but Archie, recovering courage, asked: “What can one miserable Chinaman do, opposed to three Americans?” “Very little, in America,” replied Joe. “But we’re going to his own country, to China, where old Death’s-Head is a high mandarin, and the governor of a province. He won’t kow-tow there, for the Prince is his only superior, and the Prince will be deep under the ocean soon.” We thought this over. There was usually something to think over when Joe made a long speech. “Do you mean, then, that you’re scared out; that you won’t undertake this thing?” demanded Archie, finally. “No,” said Joe, “I’m going to China. That is, if you fellows are game to go with me.” “That’s the way to talk!” “But we’re putting our heads in the jaws of a trap, and the least little thing is likely to spring it,” added Joe. Archie looked puzzled. “I can’t understand why you take that view of it,” he protested. “It seems to me the thing’s easy enough. We’ve got the Prince’s letter to his people, and the ring, and the secret of the private way into his ancestral hall. If we bungle such a job as that, we ought to be hanged.” “And will be, or worse. So we mustn’t bungle it,” said Joe. “Where is this province of Kwang-Kai-Nong, Sam?” “I forgot to ask,” I replied, wondering at my oversight. “China’s a big country,” suggested Joe. “I know. I’ll inquire about the location, and how to get to it, the next time I see the Prince.” “Do,” said Archie, “that’ll help a lot.” But I didn’t see the Prince again. At the lunch table we found the doctor, eating with apparent gusto but with an intent look on his face. “How’s your patient, Doc?” Uncle Naboth was asking as I entered. “Why, I’m out of a job again,” replied Doctor Gaylord, gravely. “Great Goodness! The man ain’t dead, is he?” demanded my uncle. “He is, sir.” I do not know why I had such a sudden sinking of the heart as I heard this. Perhaps the noble young Chinaman had won from me more admiration and affection than I had suspected, during the brief time I had known him. I glanced at Joe and Archie, and they were looking mighty solemn. “Wasn’t it rather sudden, Doc?” inquired Uncle Naboth, after a pause, during which he stirred his tea energetically. “Yes, he might have lived another four-and-twenty hours. But he wore out the morphine and began to suffer terribly. So I killed him.” “What!” “Gave him an overdose of morphine, at his own request, and he went to his long sleep with a smile of gratitude upon his face.” There was another pause. “Ahem!” said Capt. Steele, clearing his throat, “was that—er—er—strictly professional, Dr. Gaylord?” “It was strictly humane, Captain. The man was crushed and mangled from the waist down, and according to all the laws of science and common-sense has been as good as dead ever since the accident. He couldn’t have lived until now without the morphine. When that failed to soothe him the end was bound to creep nearer by slow degrees, allowing him to suffer horrible torments. I couldn’t stand that, and he couldn’t. So he begged me to end it for him, and I did.” “You’re a good man, Gaylord,” remarked Uncle Naboth, mopping his bald head with his red bandanna. “I’m glad you had the courage to do it.” “This Prince of China,” said the doctor, leaning back in his chair and thrusting his hands in his pockets, “was a royal good fellow. I had observed him on shipboard, and was attracted by his cheerful, intelligent face. When the Karamata Maru broke up I left everyone else to attend to Kai Lun Pu, until I discovered he was fatally injured. Unfortunately all my surgical tools and requirements were out of reach, and in the pockets of the clothes which I grabbed up before I rushed on deck were only a small medicine case and my hypodermic outfit. I assisted Mai Lo, the only one of the Prince’s attendants who survived, to get Kai off the wreck and safe aboard this ship, and at his urgent request I remained with him, since the doctor of the Nagasaki Maru could look after the few survivors of the Karamata Maru who were injured. I am well paid for doing this, but I want to state that the money did not influence me in the least.” To look at the doctor was evidence of the truth of this statement; so we merely nodded assent. “As soon as I had him settled in your cabin yonder,” he continued, “I told him that he was dying. Kai accepted the decree like a philosopher and asked me how long I could keep him alive without suffering. It was then that we made our bargain, and I promised he should die comfortably. It seems he had certain family affairs to arrange with Mai Lo, who represents him in his province, and afterward he had several long talks with Sam and the other boys here.” He paused to look from one to the other of us curiously, and the shrewd glance from beneath his prominent gray eyebrows was rather disconcerting. “By good luck,” he went on, “the Prince finished his arrangements, whatever they were, before the effect of the morphine wore out. When I went to him a while ago I saw the time had come to fulfil my promise. I asked him if he was ready and he said he was. So, in the parlance of the Chinese, he sleeps with his ancestors.” In the silence that followed we were all busy with our own thoughts. Finally my father asked: “Where is Mai Lo?” “Burning prayers before the body. He’s going to make trouble for us, pretty soon.” “How’s that?” asked the Captain. “These Chinese believe it’s a lasting disgrace to allow their bodies to be buried anywhere but at home. Mai Lo has already asked me when I would embalm the body; but I’ve been making inquiries and find there’s no material aboard the Seagull that will enable me to preserve the corpse of Kai Lun Pu until we can get him to China. He himself understood this, and was willing to be cast overboard; but old Death’s-Head has different ideas, and when he learns what we are going to do he will make trouble, as I said.” “What can he do?” asked Uncle Naboth. “These Chinese have a disagreeable way of running amuck and slicing a few people into mincemeat before they can be overcome. I won’t say Mai Lo will do that, but he will do something—anything in his power to prevent us lowering his master’s body into the sea.” “He won’t run amuck,” said I, positively; “nor will he do anything that will endanger his own life.” “Why not, Sam?” asked my father. “Mai Lo’s a queer chap. I can’t make him out at all. Seems to me he’s likely to do anything.” “Except endanger himself,” I added. “The Prince knew Mai Lo better than anyone, and from what he told me I believe Mai’s more clever than you suppose, and too ambitious to sacrifice his life for a mere whim.” “It isn’t a mere whim,” said the doctor. “The Shintoists are ancestor worshippers, and the sacredness of a dead body is part of their religion. Mai Lo, if he’s a good Shintoist, believes he himself will be condemned by the spirits of his own ancestors if he allows his master to be cast into the sea, whence it is impossible he can be resurrected when the end of the world comes.” “But is Mai Lo a good Shintoist?” I asked. “Mm—I don’t know. He claims to be; but the fellow puzzles me. Many of the Chinese wear a mask of expressionless reserve; but Mai Lo is the most incomprehensible being I have ever met. If he weren’t clever he wouldn’t be a high mandarin, so we can’t judge him by his terracotta face and beady eyes.” “Oh, well,” remarked my father, “we can’t endanger our own health by keeping a decaying body on board, so whenever you’re ready for the ceremony, Doctor, we will give the Prince as decent a sea-burial as possible. And that in spite of the old mandarin. By the way, Sam, see if Mai Lo wants anything to eat.” I arose and knocked softly upon the door of the state cabin. Presently it was opened a mere crack and I caught a glimpse of Mai Lo’s expressionless face behind it. But when he saw me he closed the door again quickly, before I had time to speak; and I heard the key click in the lock. “Let the beast starve,” I growled, turning away to go on deck; and the others seemed to approve the sentiment, for they followed me without protest. |
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