Chapter 2

PRINCE KAI LUN PU.

When I gained the deck of the Seagull an affecting sight met my eyes. It was crowded thick with despairing and agitated men and women, for all had lost their possessions and many their friends and relatives within the preceding half hour. Bry had brewed huge pots of coffee, for the morning air was still chilly and the rescued ones had nearly all been pulled from the water; so, our hearts full of pity for the poor wretches, we tried to comfort and cheer them as well as lay within our power.

The collision happened at twenty minutes after five in the morning; by six o’clock all the rescued were on the deck of the Seagull. We found we picked up two hundred and eighteen out of the three hundred and twenty-seven who had constituted the passengers and crew of the ill-fated Karamata Maru. One hundred and nine, including the Japanese officers, who deliberately went down with their ship, had perished.

It was nine o’clock before the steamship Nagasaki Maru hove in sight, and eleven when she came alongside us. I make this positive statement despite the inaccurate newspaper reports to the effect that the Nagasaki Maru was at the scene of the collision and assisted the Seagull to rescue the survivors.

Of course the Nagasaki Maru, belonging to the same line as the lost Karamata Maru, promptly transferred all the rescued ones to her own decks; and that was just as well, because our ship was too small to carry them all in comfort, and we were really under no obligations to do more than we had already done. The Karamata Maru had been bound for Japan, so the Nagasaki Maru, being on her way to San Francisco, undertook to leave the passengers and crew of her sister ship at Honolulu until they could be picked up by some other west-bound ship.

As they steamed away from us the poor survivors who swarmed upon her decks saluted us with a hearty cheer of gratitude for our services, and this appreciation fully repaid us.

As I stood leaning over the rail and watching the fast receding Nagasaki Maru, Joe touched my elbow.

“Lunch is ready, Sam.”

Then I remembered that I had eaten nothing except a cup of Bryonia’s coffee since early morning, and I quickly went below. Already we had steamed away upon our course and the midday sun was shining brightly overhead.

I found all our ship’s officers assembled in the saloon except the second mate, old Eli Trent, who had the deck watch, and during the meal we naturally discoursed at length upon the exciting events of the morning.

I had nearly finished luncheon when our steward, Nux, whispered over my shoulder:

“Chinaman wants to see you, Marse Sam.”

“What Chinaman, Nux?” I asked in surprise.

“Hurt man, Marse Sam. He in front stateroom.”

I looked inquiringly at my father.

“We’ve took a passenger, Sam,” said the Captain, calmly buttering his toast. “The ‘Chink’ you took off’n the wreck is a high mandarin, a prince, or suthin’, and wanted to get home to China as soon as possible, fer he’s hurt bad.”

“We don’t usually accept passengers,” I remarked thoughtfully, “but if this poor fellow is injured and homesick, it’s our duty to do what we can for him.”

“And that isn’t much,” added a gruff voice behind me, and the ship’s doctor from the Karamata Maru dropped into a seat at the table and began to eat. We watched him a moment in silence. Then I asked:

“Is your patient very bad, Doctor——”

“Gaylord; my name’s Gaylord. I’m an Englishman, although I sailed on that blasted Jap ship. And my patient, Prince Kai, is dying. He’ll never see China again.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, really distressed, and the others echoed my sympathy.

“He got jammed between the timbers,” explained Dr. Gaylord, as he continued his luncheon, “and although three of his attendants threw themselves around him and met their own death in trying to shield him, the Prince was badly smashed and can’t possibly live more than a day or two. It’s a shame,” he added, shaking his grizzled head, “for Kai Lun Pu has just been made one of the five Viceroys of the Empire, and he’s a fine young fellow who had a promising future. The redemption of China, gentlemen, must come through these young scions of the nobility who are being educated at the colleges of England and America. They’ll imbibe modern, progressive ideas, and in time upset the old prejudices of the Flowery Kingdom altogether.”

He turned and cast at me a scrutinizing gaze.

“You’re the young man who brought us off the wreck, I think?”

I nodded.

“The Prince has asked for you twice. Perhaps you’d better go to him now. I’ve given him a hypodermic and he feels easier.”

“Why does he wish to see me?” I asked curiously.

“Some fool notion of gratitude, I suppose. These educated Chinese are very courteous and punctilious fellows. It’s likely he wouldn’t die comfortably if he had neglected to thank you for your slight services.”

“Shall I go in alone?” I asked hesitatingly.

“Yes; walk right in. The Death’s-Head is with him,” added the doctor with a snort of contempt that I did not understand.

So I softly turned the handle of the stateroom door and walked in. It was not a pleasant errand to visit a dying man, and I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

The state cabin of the Seagull was a roomy—almost spacious—apartment, and we had fitted it up carefully for the use of any important guest we might have aboard. It had never been used but once before, and as I glanced around it I felt a pang that it was now to be the scene of a death, and that a miserable Chinaman should put this blemish upon it.

Seated upon a stool beside the curtained bunk was the Chinese attendant I had brought aboard with the Prince and the doctor. Immediately I understood Dr. Gaylord’s expression, “the Death’s-Head,” for this Chinaman typified that mythical horror in feature and expression. Perhaps I should say lack of expression, for his face was as immobile as Death itself, of a pallid gray-green color, and the skin was drawn tight as parchment over his high cheek-bones and across his thin lips. The eyes were dark and bright, but conveyed no more animation or intelligence than would glass eyes. He was dressed rather primly in a suit of black broadcloth, cut in London fashion.

As I entered, this attendant rose like an automaton and drew the curtains of the bunk, muttering a brief sentence in Chinese.