PRESS OF
COMMERCIAL PUBLISHING CO.
34 CALIFORNIA ST., S.F. (1892)
continued from 16 January
III
The government of Macao derives its greatest revenue from the licensing of gambling houses, and these form one of the principal attractions in the city to the European from Hong Kong as well as the native Portuguese and Chinese. Whatever fault the visitor finds, on moral grounds, with these houses he must admit the fact that they are quiet and orderly, while the picturesqueness of the life within them and that peculiar glamour which varnishes all that pertains to a great gambling hall where fortune shows herself directly face to face with us, has a charm which hides the immorality from even the most straight-laced Puritan.
One of these houses was the favourite and nightly resort of Dom Pedro, where he played high or low according to the state of his finances at the moment. Dom Amaral, though himself a devotee of the fan-tan table, observed with fear this controlling passion of his son which he believed would some day destroy the comfortable fortune he had amassed with so many years of labour.
Adams would have certainly preferred to spend the whole evening in the family circle, but Dom Pedro urged him with so much, and such unusual kindness to accompany him to the gambling house that he consented, and at about eleven o’clock the two young men left the Praya and walked into the town beneath the soft lights of the oil lamps. The streets were deserted as usual, here and there a policeman, hooded like a pilgrim, sauntered leisurely along, or the Chinese watchman with drum and clapper woke the echoes of the lonely ways warning thieves of his approach.
The only illuminated houses were fan-tan houses and these presently became numerous; now and then music was heard but not of a very seductive kind. Into one of the largest and most gaily decorated houses, Dom Pedro and Robert Adams went, climbing to the second floor by stairs bordered with shrubs in huge Chinese pots.
The main playing room contained several tables or counters arranged along the walls, behind which sat the croupiers; at one of these Dom Pedro stopped. On the table was a plate of metal divided into quarters of about a foot square by deep cut lines crossing it, each square being marked in Chinese characters indicating one, two, three and four. The croupiers rattled a pile of bright brass coins, with square holes in them, called cash; then as Dom Pedro made a sign that he was about to play, the croupier drew away a part of them under a bowl and Dom Pedro placed his wager on number three. The croupier with a bamboo wand then counted out the remaining cash one at a time in sets of four, until finally there were but three left; this being Dom Pedro’s number, he won the stakes.
“In good luck to-night,” he said, turning to Adams, “Try if this is a lucky day for you.” Robert Adams placed his money on the same square which Dom Pedro had won from, and again the croupier counted the remainder slowly, having drawn away some of the cash under the bowl, four at a time until but two remained and Adams’ stake became part of the bank. “Lucky in love, unlucky at play” he said with a laugh, “I shall bet no more to-night.” Dom Pedro’s face darkened but in silence he continued winning at every count.
Above the table was a square hole in the ceiling opening into an upper room where those could sit who did not wish to be seen, and were thus able to let their bets down in a little basket and with the same draw up their winnings. This upper room being purposely kept in half light enabled its occupants to see those below without being seen themselves.
Dom Pedro’s luck was astonishing and quite a crowd of onlookers gathered about. Robert Adams growing weary of the play in which he took no interest, left, saying that he would walk slowly as far as the ruined cathedral of St. Paul and on his return step in again. As he stepped back from the table he looked up toward the opening in the ceiling where were two women with faces wrapped in black silk robosas, which showed only the eyes; as the eyes seemed fixed upon him he raised his hat. The action seemed to cause the women considerable consternation, for both hurriedly sprang back from the rail and in doing so one let fall, upon the table below, the basket with a bit of paper and several Mexican dollars which rolled about the room. Everyone looked up laughing at the accident but no one from above claimed the money. Adams left the room glad to be in the fresh air under the clear, starlit sky.
No more lonely or picturesque ruin ever existed than the church of St. Paul; though human habitations crowd close upon it, they are however the houses of Chinese and make the Christian edifice seem the more solitary. The church is of that favourite style of architecture so common in new and old Spain, which always brings to the mind of the wanderer in foreign lands the name of good San Xavier.
The half moon had risen high enough to illuminate the whole front as Adams climbed the broad, massive steps to the paved space before it. Leaning against the heavy balustrade he enjoyed the picture. The shadows were deep and through the sightless windows shone a few silver stars. The magnificent front of solid granite with graceful scroll-work and carved outline, blackened here by smoke and there by age, with vines and trees growing from crevices, stood in wondrous beauty.
The detail showed clearer than by day; the panels in high relief, of full rigged ship, the double dolphin and the skeleton seemed too fragile to have stood through earthquake and typhoon and the conflagrations of war for more than two hundred years. The exquisite frieze composed of many unconventionalized flowers extending across the front, wherein the artist and worker had been one, was a petrified garland. This scene was a revelation to Adams for often as he had viewed and sketched the ruin, he had never been there by moonlight when its beauties were enhanced and its defects hidden. He could see plainly each Chinese character upon the carved scrolls and the words “Mater Dei” above the doorway.
Slowly the shadows crept along, making the six broken saints in their niches seem alive; slowly the shadows upon the ruin crept along, but a swifter shadow suddenly came forward from the steps and Adams having forgotten, in the entrancing scene the murderer and thief who lurk in all Macao’s corners, turned as he heard a soft step, just in time to receive in his right arm the upward blow of a dagger aimed at his side. He lost his balance falling backward down the steps, striking his head upon a heap of broken roof-tiles where he lay insensible. As he fell, a woman’s scream pierced the night. There was hurried tramping of sandaled feet, as of a dozen or more coolies. The shriek was again heard and then all was silent and the plaza empty.
IV
Sleepy Macao the day after the attempted assassination of Robert Adams was treated to a sensation such as had not been its experience since the memorable day in 1848 when the old Governor de Amaral lost his head at the Porta de Cerco. Murder, attempted or accomplished, could not have stirred them up to such an extent, for that was too common an occurrence, but the mystery of the event was the cause. Priscilla Harvey and her maid with one of Dom Amaral’s most trusted men servants had disappeared as completely as though the earth had swallowed them.
Robert Adams, since the night of the attack had not recovered his senses, and lay in the house of Dom Amaral apparently between life and death. The surgeons from Sam Januarius hospital had decided that to save him, the amputation of his arm would be necessary, for the dagger which had cut it had been poisoned.
In the midst of this trouble, Priscilla’s absence was discovered, and Macao was alarmed. Men were sent from the Governor’s house in all directions to search the public houses, the fishing boats, and every possible place within the small territory. Word was sent to Taipa. While the officials were thus employed, private parties of searchers went over the entire peninsula looking among the rocks and copses of the Estrada and even the Parsee Tower of Silence was examined, but all in vain. The fan-tan house proprietor told of two unknown women with a Chinese servant who had visited his house, but when they had left he did not know. No more was learned though the search still continued, for large rewards were offered by Dom Amaral as well as by the Governor.
Dom Pedro directed the movements, taking greatest interest in all that seemed possible to form a clue, and did not rest for nearly forty-eight hours. Days soon formed a week but no news came, and Macao began to drowze again. Detectives from Hong Kong came, made the usual fuss and reached the usual conclusions of their kind, that it was a mysterious event.
Contrary to all predictions Robert Adams, having become convalescent and the surgical operation by which he had lost his arm having proved successful when having heard the awful news, did not have a relapse into the fever but seemed with a determination to become more rapidly strong, and in five weeks was able to be about. He, of all Priscilla’s friends, was most hopeful. To his mind vividly came the scene at the Ruins of St. Paul and that last sound he had heard. Adams’ first walk was to the scene of his attempted assassination and Madam de Amaral, who was much broken with grief at the terrible event, accompanied him in her chair, Dom Pedro going with them.
It was the month of May and the heat being oppressive Madam d’Amaral after viewing the scene was carried home and the two young men walked on to the Marcos garden. “I have a clue Dom Robert,” said Dom Pedro as they seated themselves beneath a broad banyan tree from which a view of St. Paul’s ruin could be had. “There began your troubles,” he said pointing, “and there this morning I received a paper which will I hope lead to a solution of this mystery.” He handed Adams a bit of Chinese paper on which was written in Portuguese, “Come to the Praca de Luiz de Camoens at 8 A.M. to-morrow; follow the guide who meets you, and the lady Priscilla will be found.” “I do not trust anonymous communications,” said Adams, “but we must clutch at a straw now.” “Nor do I,” replied Dom Pedro, “and I will go with you; we will go well armed.” Adams glanced down at his own empty sleeve and a cruel smile passed over the face of Dom Pedro as he noticed his comrade’s pain.
The 22nd of May will be long remembered in Macao and never forgotten by the family of de Amaral. Early in the morning Robert Adams was up and impatiently waiting for Dom Pedro, who appeared a little before eight o’clock and the two, after a hurried breakfast, went to the Praca de Luiz de Camoens where a Chinese sailor met them. They followed him to the shore where a sampan was waiting in which they seated themselves and were soon gliding rapidly toward a huge junk of fine build which lay at anchor some distance beyond the Portuguese man-of-war, in the direction of Taipa. The tide was very low and the vessel did not seem far from shore.
The Sampan reached and made fast to the junk, and Adams followed by Dom Pedro climbed upon the deck.
Quick as a flash Adams’ arm was seized and bound to his side while Dom Pedro stepped before him. “Fool!” he cried, “you have stepped into the trap with little trouble. It was I who stabbed you, Dom Robert, it was I, who took the bride who rightfully belonged to me, as it is I who will use you for my own good till I may throw you away. You of Northern blood are fools.”
“I thought you my friend, Dom Pedro, and I thought you a man,” was the only reply.
Every appointment of the junk was of exquisite finish, such as is seldom seen, and kept scrupulously clean. The men at work on deck, with usual Mongolian nonchalance, went about their business without giving the least notice to the events occurring. “The lady Priscilla waits you in the cabin,” said Dom Pedro. “She knows my plans and though I shall not intrude upon you I have a Chinese on guard who will kill you if any attempt is made to free you. Enter.” Adams stepped toward the cabin at the stern, where the usual shelf-like arrangements of a junk had been transformed into a cabin suited to European taste, with comfort and luxury. Adams entered and the door was closed. By it stood a guard with drawn sword; in the farther corner sat a woman at a table with her face buried in her hands.
“Robert, as you love me stay where you are. Do not move a step, but sit down where you are.” Her voice was so full of pleading that Adams forgot his first impulse and obeyed her. “I know all that has occurred dear Robert, your sacrifice and pain and the pain of all my friends during these sad weeks. Do not move toward me or you will be killed. I will not look up, dare not look up. On that Sunday, which now seems so long ago, when I bid you good-night at the library door, when you and he went to the fan-tan house, I followed you with his valet and my maid, for I had been fearful of his intentions toward you, and when his valet told me that he had seen him secrete a dagger in his coat that morning, and when I found one missing from the case, I had my fears confirmed. We followed and sat in the floor above you and tried to call your attention. When I won at the table at last I put in a warning note and then overturned the basket. You did not see the paper but he did, and read it. For the rest, you were followed at once by him, and we as quickly as possible followed both, but only in time to see you fall and to be seized and carried away in a closed chair to the yellow house in the Marcos square where, till yesterday, I have been confined to the court and inner rooms, with only my maid as company and a daily visit from him at which I learned the news of your progress toward recovery. Last night we were removed to this vessel, and I have expected your arrival with hope and fear. His idea is to force a marriage with me by threats against your life, or to sail for Hainan or Formosa and accomplish his designs where law and justice for us are unknown.”
Hurried cries from the deck and a call at the door in Chinese were heard and the guide sheathing his sword rushed from the cabin. In a moment the lovers were together. The bonds which held Adams’ arm were cut and Priscilla pointing to the little window cried, “Robert, God is with us!” With his one arm encircling Priscilla they looked from the window. Apparently a strong gale had suddenly sprung up from the south east and rain was falling in torrents; the wind continued to increase though the rain passed by, but in the distance appeared a dark tower of water slowly moving toward Macao, rushing with bending, changing outline from water to sky. The gale became fiercer and the tumult on deck increased. Immediately from Taipa came the sound of cannon and it was answered by Macao with her heaviest ordnance as if a battle were raging, and, indeed it was a terrible battle, one between man and the elements, but man was victor and the water spout was broken. The force of the tornado however had yet to reach its climax and for fully five minutes swept over the terrified city and bay with fearful power. Sampans and junks were hurled like egg-shells upon the shore, where but for the low tide, thousands instead of hundreds of lives would have been sacrificed. The men-of-war and the river steamboats did good service, for the course of the tornado, was so restricted that though but a hundred yards from its limit of violence they were untouched. Dom Pedro’s junk with others was torn from its moorings and overturned, but not before Adams and Priscilla had jumped from the deck. Even in the awful confusion and the terror of the first plunge which carried them below the surface of the angry waves, she kept her hand clasped upon the empty sleeve of her recovered protector. Being both good swimmers they assisted each other with that knowledge of the water and the trust which all coast born people have in the mother sea. A boat from one of the war vessels picked them up and in a short time they were both beneath the roof of good Dom d’Amaral, and rumor with unusual tread, but suited to Macao, slowly announced the fact of Priscilla’s return.
Dom Pedro weak, and with a broken arm, was also carried to the house of his father and none but the principal actors in the tragedy understood the mystery.
Priscilla had returned in the midst of the tornado, and that was all. The unfortunate young woman was completely prostrated by the terrible experiences through which she had lately passed and lay as if lifeless. The physicians dreaded an attack of fever would follow, and their worst fears were realized. Several weeks went by in anxious watching by the sick woman’s bedside when at last the fever turned and she gradually grew better. Nothing was said of the occurrences which had brought the illness about, and Priscilla remembered nothing of them apparently, for she asked for no one and seemed happy and content to be left with her Chinese ama. When she had recovered strength enough to be carried into the court-yard it was with joyful expectancy that Adams went to greet her, yet his heart sank with sorrow when he saw the marks of the great suffering in her face and a terrible desire for revenge seized him, which became the dominant passion of his life.
The saddest part of this tale may be given in a few words. Priscilla Harvey never regained her reason, though she found pleasure in all the beauties of nature and her life was happy during the two years before her death. Dom Pedro went to Hong Kong and soon disappeared. Robert Adams remained in Macao taking charge of the d’Amaral foreign business. He was the daily companion of the unfortunate Priscilla in all her walks and it was but a year after her death, when I visited my uncle Robert in Macao, when the tragic event occurred which is narrated at the beginning of this history.
My uncle is near my own age and we are more like brothers and have been together, since the death of Dom Pedro at Camoen’s Grotto. The Courts of Macao exonerated Adams and though the good Dom d’Amaral would willingly have had him remain in the house at Macao it was not pleasant to think, that, even justified as he was, he had killed the only son of his host.
It was early in the morning when we left the drowsy city; the sun had just touched the windows of Sam Januarius, and as the river boat dropped into the stream, the church of Our Lady of Guia received its morning salutation. The period had come to this story of love and loss, and the book closed.
Perhaps it is just as well not to work, or play, or read except in “the library of the grasshoppers” as do my own good, sleeping friends in Macao.
The End
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