_Chapter XVI_
THROUGH FIRE AND SMOKE
A train was always kept in readiness at Centralia on the NorthernPacific Railway, which could get up full steam at a moment's notice incase of necessity. Two Japanese, the engineer and the fireman, weresquatting on the floor of the tender in front of the glistening blackheaps of coal, over which played the red reflections from the furnace.They had just made their tea with hot water from the boiler and eatentheir modest supper. Then the engineer pulled out his pipe and stuffingits little metal bowl with a few crumbs of tobacco, took one or twopuffs at it and said, "Akoki, it is time," whereupon the stoker seizedhis shovel, dug into the heap of coals and threw the black lumps with asure aim into the open door of the furnace. With a hissing sound thedraft rushed into the glowing fire, and the engine sent out masses ofblack smoke which, mixed with hundreds of tiny sparks, was driven like apillar of fire over the dark row of cars. The engineer climbed down thelittle iron steps and examined the steel rods of his engine withclinking knocks from his hammer.
Up and down in front of the dark station walked a Japanese sentinel andeach time that he passed beyond the ring of light thrown by the twodimly burning lamps he seemed to be swallowed up in the darkness. Onlytwo little windows at one end of the station were lighted up; theybelonged to the Japanese guard-room and had been walled up so that theywere no wider than loop-holes. The train which inspected this districtregularly between eight and nine o'clock each evening had passed by at8.30 and proceeded in the direction of Portland. With the exception ofthe non-commissioned officer and the man in charge of the threearc-lamps on the roof that were to light up the surrounding country incase of a night-attack most of the soldiers had gone to sleep, althougha few were engaged in a whispered conversation.
Suddenly the sergeant sprang up as a muffled cry was heard from theoutside. "The lamps!" he yelled to the man at the electric instrument.The latter pushed the lever, but everything remained pitch dark outside.
The soldiers were up in a second. The sergeant took a few steps towardsthe door, but before he could reach it, it was torn open from theoutside.
A determined looking man with a rifle slung over his shoulder appearedin the doorway, and the next moment a dark object flew through the airand was dashed against the wall. A deafening report followed, and thenthe guard-room was filled with yellow light caused by the blindingexplosion, while thick black smoke forced its way out through theloop-holes. Armed men were running up and down in front of the station,and when the man who had thrown the bomb and who was only slightlyinjured but bleeding at the nose and ears from the force of theconcussion, was picked up by them, they were able to assure himtriumphantly that his work had been successful and that the guard-roomhad become a coffin for the small Japanese detachment.
Stumbling over the dead body of the sentinel lying on the platform, theleader of the attacking party rushed towards the engine, out of thedischarge-valves of which clouds of boiling steam poured forth. With onebound he was up in the cab, where he found the Japanese fireman killedby a blow from an ax. Other dark figures climbed up from the oppositeside bumping into their comrades.
"Halloo, Dick, I call that a good job!" And then it began to liven upalong the row of cars. Wild looking men with rifles over their shouldersand revolvers in their right hands tore open the carriage doors andrushed quickly through the whole train.
"Dick, where's Forster?"
"Here," answered a rough voice.
"Off to the engine! Into the cars, quick! Are you ready? Is anyonemissing? Arthur! Where's Arthur?"
"Here, Dick!"
"Good work, Arthur, that's what I call good work," said the leader;"well done, my boys! We're all right so far! Now for the rest of it."
Fighting Dick distributed his men among the different cars and then heand Forster, formerly an engineer on the Northern Pacific, climbed intothe cab.
"They've made it easy for us," said Forster, "they've only just putfresh coal on! We can start at once! And if it isn't my old engine atthat! I only hope we won't have to give her up! The Japs shan't have heragain, anyhow, even if she has to swallow some dynamite and cough alittle to prevent it."
"We're off," shouted Fighting Dick, whose fame as a desperado had spreadfar beyond the borders of the State of Washington. With such men asthese we were destined to win back our native land. They were a wildlot, but each of them was a hero: farmers, hunters, workmen from shopand factory, numerous tramps and half-blooded Indian horse-thieves madeup the company. Only a few days ago Fighting Dick's band had had aregular battle in the mountains with a troop of Japanese cavalry, and inthe woods of Tacoma more than one Japanese patrol had never found itsway back to the city. These little encounters were no doubt alsoresponsible for the strengthening of the Japanese garrison at Tacoma.
The thing to do now was to get the five thousand guns and ammunitioncases out of Tacoma by surprising the enemy.
Thus far, nothing but the explosion of the bomb at the Centralia stationcould have betrayed the plot. It is true that the distant mountains hadsent the echoes of the detonation far and wide, but a single shot didn'thave much significance at a time like this when our country resoundedwith the thunder of cannon day in day out!
The train rushed through the darkness at full speed. A misplaced switch,a loose rail, might at any moment turn the whole train into a heap ofruins and stop the beating of a hundred brave American hearts. Theheadlight of Forster's engine lighted up the long rows of shining rails,and in the silent woods on both sides of the track, beneath the branchesof the huge trees, lights could be seen here and there in the windows ofthe houses, where the dwellers were anxiously awaiting the return of thetrain from Tacoma! And now a hollow roll of thunder came up from below.
"The bridges?" asked Fighting Dick.
"Yes, the bridges," said Forster, nodding.
Then a faint light appeared in the distance. The train was nearingTacoma.
Houses began to spring up more frequently out of the darkness, now tothe right and now to the left; dancing lights popped up and disappeared.Tall, black buildings near the tracks gave out a thundering noise likethe crash of hammers and accompanied the roar of the passing train. Abeam of light is suddenly thrown across the rails, green and redlanterns slip by with the speed of lightning, and then the brakessqueak and the train runs noisily into the dark station.
A few figures hurry across the platform. Shots ring out from all sides.A mortally-wounded Jap is leaning against a post, breathing heavily.
The wheels groan beneath the pressure of the brakes and then, with amighty jerk that shakes everybody up, the train comes to a stand-still.Down from the cars! Fighting Dick in the lead, revolver in hand, and theothers right on his heels. They entered the station only to find everyJap dead--the men of Tacoma had done their duty.
Now the clatter of hoofs was heard out in the street. The heavy wagonswith their heaps of rifles and long tin boxes full of cartridges weredriven up at a mad pace. A wild tumult ensued as the boxes were rushedto the train--two men to a box--and the doors slammed to. Then the emptywagons rattled back through the silent streets. Meanwhile Forster ranhis engine on the turntable, where it was quickly reversed, and in a fewmoments it stood, puffing and snorting, at the other end of the train.
All this consumed less than half an hour. Suddenly shots rang out in theneighboring streets, but as no detachment of hostile troops appeared,the Americans concluded that they had been fired by a patrol which wascoming from the electric-works to see what the noise at the station wasabout. Several rockets with their blinding magnesium light appeared inthe dark sky and illumined the roofs of the houses. Was it a warningsignal?
All at once the electric gongs near the station which were connectedwith Brown & Co.'s cellar began to ring, a sign that somethingsuspicious had been noticed at the waterworks. Forster was waitingimpatiently in his engine for the signal of departure and could notimagine why Fighting Dick was postponing it so long. He was standing inthe doorway of the station a
nd now called out: "Where is ArthurEngelmann?"
"Not here," came the answer from the train.
"Where can he be?"
The name was called out several times, but no one answered. The trainwas ready to start and the men were distributing the boxes carefullyinside the cars, so as to be able to unload them without loss of time attheir respective destinations. And now, at last, Arthur Engelmann camerunning into the station.
"Hurry up!" called Fighting Dick.
"No, wait a minute! We'll have to take this fellow along," criedEngelmann, pointing to a wounded man, who was being carried by twocomrades.
"Put him down! We'll have to be off! We've got plenty of men, but notenough guns."
"You must take him!"
"No, we're off!"
"You'll wait," said Arthur Engelmann, seizing Dick's arm; "it's mybrother."
"I can't help it, you'll have to leave him behind."
"Then I'll stay too!"
"Go ahead, if you want to."
At this moment shrill bugle-calls resounded from one of the nearbystreets.
"The Japanese!" roared Fighting Dick; "come on, Arthur!"
But Arthur snatched his wounded brother from the two men who werecarrying him and lifted him across his own shoulder, while the others,led by Fighting Dick, rushed past him and jumped on the train.
Bullets were whizzing past and several had entered the walls of thestation when Fighting Dick's voice gave the command: "Let her go,Forster! Let her go!"
Puffing and snorting, and with the pistons turning the high wheels,which could not get a hold on the slippery rails, at lightning speed,the engine started just as the Japanese soldiers ran into the station,from the windows of which they commenced to fire blindly at thedeparting train. The bullets poured into the rear cars like hail-stones,smashing the wooden walls and window-panes.
Fighting Dick, standing beside Forster, looked back and saw the stationfull of soldiers. The two Germans must have fallen into their hands, hethought.
But they must hustle with the train now, for although the telegraphwires had been cut all along the line, they still had light-signals tofear! And even as this thought occurred to him, a glare appeared in thesky in the direction of the waterworks, then went out and appeared againat regular intervals. Those silent signs certainly had some meaning.Perhaps it was a signal to the nearest watch to pull up the rails infront of the approaching train? With his teeth set and his hand on thethrottle, Forster stood in his engine while the fireman kept shovelingcoals into the furnace.
"Forster," said Dick suddenly, "what's that in front of us? Heavens,it's burning!"
"The bridges are burning, Fighting Dick!"
"That's just what I thought, the damned yellow monkeys! Never mind,we'll have to go on. Do you think you can get the engine across?"
"The bridges will hold us all right. It would take half a day to burnthe wood through and we'll be there in ten minutes."
Now fluttering little flames could be seen running along the rails andlicking the blood-red beams of the long wooden bridges, giant monumentsof American extravagance in the use of wood. Clouds of smoke crepttowards the train, hiding the rails from view, and soon the enginerolled into a veritable sea of flames and smoke. Forster screamed tohis companion: "They've poured petroleum over the wood."
"We'll have to get across," answered Fighting Dick, "even if we all burnto death."
Biting smoke and the burning breath of the fiery sea almost suffocatedthe two men. The air was quivering with heat, and all clearly definedlines disappeared as the angry flames now arose on both sides.
"Press hard against the front," screamed Forster; "that's the only wayto get a little air, otherwise we'll suffocate."
The high-pressure steam of the speeding locomotive hissed out of all thevalves, shaking the mighty steel frame with all its force; the heat ofthe flames cracked the windows, and wherever the hand sought support,pieces of skin were left on the red-hot spots. A few shots were firedfrom the outside.
"One minute more," yelled Forster, "and we'll be over."
Fighting Dick collapsed under the influence of the poisonous gases andfainted away on the floor of the cab. And now the flames grew smallerand smaller and gradually became hidden in clouds of smoke.
"Hurrah!" cried Forster; "there's a clear stretch ahead of us!" Then heleaned out of the cab-window to look at the train behind him and sawthat the last two cars were in flames. He blew the whistle as a signalthat the last car was to be uncoupled and left where it was, for he hadjust noticed a man standing near the track, swinging his bicycle lamphigh above his head.
"Perhaps they'll be able to unload the car after all," he said toFighting Dick, who was slowly coming to. But the sound of the explosionof some of the boxes of cartridges in the uncoupled car made it fairlycertain that there wouldn't be much left to unload.
Five minutes later, after they had passed a dark station, the samesignal was noticed, and another car was uncoupled, and similarly one carafter another was left on the track. The guns and ammunition-boxes wereunloaded as expeditiously as possible and transferred to the wagons thatwere waiting to receive them. The moment they were ready, the horsesgalloped off as fast as they could go and disappeared in the darkness,leaving the burning cars behind as a shining beacon.
When, on the morning of June ninth, a Japanese military train fromPortland traveled slowly along the line, it came first upon the ruins ofan engine which had been blown up by dynamite, and after that it was asmuch as the Japanese could do to clear away the remnants of the variousruined cars by the end of the day. The bridge, which had been set onfire by a Japanese detachment with the help of several barrels ofpetroleum, was completely burned down.
But the plot had been successful and Fighting Dick's fame resounded fromone ocean to the other, and proved to the nations across the sea thatthe old energy of the American people had been revived and that the warof extermination against the yellow race had begun, though as yet onlyon a small scale. And the Japanese troops, too, began to appreciate thatthe same irresistible force--a patriotic self-sacrifice that swepteverything before it--which had in one generation raised Japan to theheights of political power, was now being directed against the foreigninvader.
Half the town had known of the plan for removing the rifles andammunition from Tacoma, but a strong self-control had taken the place ofthe thoughtless garrulousness of former times. Not a sign, not a wordhad betrayed the plot to the enemy; every man controlled his feverishemotion and wore an air of stolid indifference. We had learned a lessonfrom the enemy.
Fourteen Americans were captured with weapons in hand, and in additionabout twenty-eight badly wounded. The Japanese commander of Tacomaissued a proclamation the following evening that all the prisoners,without exception, would be tried by court-martial in the course of thenext day and condemned to death--the penalty that had been threatened incase of insurrection. The Japanese court-martial arrived in the city onJune ninth with a regiment from Seattle. The Tacoma board of aldermenwere invited to send two of their number to be present at the trial, butthe offer being promptly refused, the Japanese pronounced judgment onthe prisoners alone. As had been expected, they were all condemned todeath by hanging, but at the earnest pleading of the mayor of Tacoma,the sentence was afterwards mitigated to death by shooting.
Old Martin Engelmann tried in vain to secure permission to see his sonsonce more; his request was brusquely refused.
In the light of early dawn on June eleventh the condemned men were ledout to the waterworks to be executed, the wounded being conveyed inwagons. Thousands of the inhabitants took part in this funeralprocession--in dead silence.
Old Engelmann was standing, drawn up to his full height, at the windowof his home, and mutely he caught the farewell glances of his two sonsas they passed by, the one marching in the midst of his comrades, theother lying in the first wagon among the wounded. Frau Martha hadsummoned sufficient courage to stand beside her husband, but the momentthe procession had pas
sed, she burst into bitter tears. Her life wasbereft of all hope and the future stretched out dark and melancholybefore her.
Suddenly a gentle hand was laid on her white head. "Mother," said one ofher daughters, "do you hear it? I heard it yesterday. They're singingthe song of Fighting Dick and of our dear boys. No one knows whocomposed it, it seems to have sprung up of itself. They were singing iton the street last night, the song of Arthur Engelmann, who sacrificedhis life for his brother."
"Yes," said the father, "it's true, mother, they are singing of ourlads; be brave, mother, and remember that those who are taken from usto-day will live forever in the hearts of the American people."
And louder and louder rang out the notes of that proud song of thecitizens of Tacoma--the first paean of victory in those sad days.