Jules Verne (24 page)

"China is a charming land
Which surely ought to please you."

Oh! Labiche, could you ever have imagined that this adorable
composition would one day charm passengers in distress on the Grand
Transasiatic? And then our actor—a little fresh, I admit—had an idea.
And such an idea! Why not resume the marriage ceremony interrupted by
the attack on the train?

"What marriage?" asked Ephrinell.

"Yours, sir, yours," replied Caterna. "Have you forgotten it? That is
rather too good!"

The fact is that Fulk Ephrinell, on the one part, and Horatia Bluett,
on the other part, seemed to have forgotten that had it not been for
the attack of Ki-Tsang and his band they would now have been united in
the gentle bonds of matrimony.

But we were all too tired. The Reverend Nathaniel Morse was unequal to
the task; he would not have strength enough to bless the pair, and the
pair would not have strength enough to support his blessing. The
ceremony could be resumed on the day after to-morrow. Between
Tcharkalyk and Lan Tcheou there was a run of nine hundred kilometres,
and that was quite long enough for this Anglo-American couple to be
linked together in.

And so we all went to our couches or benches for a little refreshing
sleep. But at the same time the requirements of prudence were not
neglected.

Although it appeared improbable, now that their chief had succumbed,
the bandits might still make a nocturnal attack. There were always
these cursed millions of the Son of Heaven to excite their
covetousness, and if we are not on our guard—

But we feel safe. Faruskiar in person arranges for the surveillance of
the train. Since the death of the officer he has taken command of the
Chinese detachment. He and Ghangir are on guard over the imperial
treasure, and according to Caterna, who is never in want of a quotation
from some comic opera:

"This night the maids of honor will be guarded well."

And, in fact, the imperial treasure was much better guarded than the
beautiful Athenais de Solange between the first and second acts of the
Mousquetaires de la Reine
.

At daybreak next morning we are at work. The weather is superb. The day
will be warm. Out in the Asian desert on the 24th of May the
temperature is such that you can cook eggs if you only cover them with
a little sand.

Zeal was not wanting, and the passengers worked as hard as they had
done the night before. The line was gradually completed. One by one the
sleepers were replaced, the rails were laid end to end, and about four
o'clock in the afternoon the gap was bridged.

At once the engine began to advance slowly, the cars following until
they were over the temporary track and safe again. Now the road is
clear to Tcharkalyk; what do I say? to Pekin.

We resume our places. Popof gives the signal for departure as Caterna
trolls out the chorus of victory of the admiral's sailors in
Haydee
.

A thousand cheers reply to him. At ten o'clock in the evening the train
enters Tcharkalyk station.

We are exactly thirty hours behind time. But is not thirty hours enough
to make Baron Weissschnitzerdörfer lose the mail from Tient-Tsin to
Yokohama?

I, who wanted an incident, have had one to perfection. I am thankful
enough not to have been one of the victims. I have emerged from the
fray safe and sound. All my numbers are intact, barring two or three
insignificant scratches. Only No. 4 has been traversed by a bullet
clean through—his hat.

At present I have nothing in view beyond the Bluett-Ephrinell marriage
and the termination of the Kinko affair. I do not suppose that
Faruskiar can afford us any further surprises. I can reckon on the
casual, of course, for the journey has another five days to run. Taking
into account the delay occasioned by the Ki-Tsang affair that will make
thirteen days from the start from Uzun Ada.

Thirteen days! Heavens! And there are the thirteen numbers in my
notebook! Supposing I were superstitious?

We remained three hours at Tcharkalyk. Most of the passengers did not
leave their beds. We were occupied with declarations relative to the
attack on the train, to the dead which the Chinese authorities were to
bury, to the wounded who were to be left at Tcharkalyk, where they
would be properly looked after. Pan-Chao told me it was a populous
town, and I regret I was unable to visit it.

The company sent off immediately a gang of workmen to repair the line
and set up the telegraph posts; and in a day everything would be clear
again.

I need scarcely say that Faruskiar, with all the authority of the
company's general manager, took part in the different formalities that
were needed at Tcharkalyk. I do not know how to praise him
sufficiently. Besides, he was repaid for his good offices by the
deference shown him by the staff at the railway station.

At three in the morning we arrived at Kara Bouran, where the train
stopped but a few minutes. Here the railway crosses the route of
Gabriel Bonvalot and Prince Henri of Orleans across Tibet in 1889-90, a
much more complete journey than ours, a circular trip from Paris to
Paris, by Berlin, Petersburg, Moscow, Nijni, Perm, Tobolsk, Omsk,
Semipalatinsk, Kouldja, Tcharkalyk, Batong, Yunnan, Hanoi, Saigon,
Singapore, Ceylon, Aden, Suez, Marseilles, the tour of Asia, and the
tour of Europe.

The train halts at Lob Nor at four o'clock and departs at six. This
lake, the banks of which were visited by General Povtzoff in 1889, when
he returned from his expedition to Tibet, is an extensive marsh with a
few sandy islands, surrounded by two or three feet of water. The
country through which the Tarim slowly flows had already been visited
by Fathers Hue and Gabet, the explorers Prjevalski and Carey up to the
Davana pass, situated a hundred and fifty kilometres to the south. But
from that pass Gabriel Bonvalot and Prince Henri of Orleans, camping
sometimes at fifteen thousand feet of altitude, had ventured across
virgin territories to the foot of the superb Himalayan chain.

Our itinerary lay eastwards toward Kara Nor, skirting the base of the
Nan Chan mountains, behind which lies the region of Tsaidam. The
railway dare not venture among the mountainous countries of the
Kou-Kou-Nor, and we were on our way to the great city of Lan Tcheou
along, the base of the hills.

Gloomy though the country might be, there was no reason for the
passengers to be so. This glorious sun, with its rays gilding the sands
of the Gobi as far as we could see, announced a perfect holiday. From
Lob Nor to Kara Nor there are three hundred and fifty kilometres to
run, and between the lakes we will resume the interrupted marriage of
Fulk Ephrinell and Horatia Bluett, if nothing occurs to again delay
their happiness.

The dining car has been again arranged for the ceremony, the witnesses
are ready to resume their parts, and the happy pair cannot well be
otherwise than of the same mind.

The Reverend Nathaniel Morse, in announcing that the marriage will take
place at nine o'clock, presents the compliments of Mr. Ephrinell and
Miss Bluett.

Major Noltitz and I, Caterna and Pan-Chao are under arms at the time
stated.

Caterna did not think it his duty to resume his costume, nor did his
wife. They were dressed merely for the grand dinner party which took
place at eight o'clock in the evening—the dinner given by Ephrinell to
his witnesses and to the chief first-class passengers. Our actor,
puffing out his left cheek, informed me that he had a surprise for us
at dessert. What? I thought it wise not to ask.

A little before nine o'clock the bell of the tender begins to ring. Be
assured it does not announce an accident. Its joyous tinkling calls us
to the dining car, and we march in procession toward the place of
sacrifice.

Ephrinell and Miss Bluett are already seated at the little table in
front of the worthy clergyman, and we take our places around them.

On the platforms are grouped the spectators, anxious to lose nothing of
the nuptial ceremony.

My lord Faruskiar and Ghangir, who had been the object of a personal
invitation, had just arrived. The assembly respectfully rises to
receive them. They will sign the deed of marriage. It is a great honor,
and if it were my marriage I should be proud to see the illustrious
name of Faruskiar figure among the signatures to the deed.

The ceremony begins, and this time the Reverend Nathaniel Morse was
able to finish his speech, so regrettably interrupted on the former
occasion.

The young people rise, mud the clergyman asks them if they are mutually
agreed as to marriage.

Before replying, Miss Bluett turns to Ephrinell, and says:

"It is understood that Holmes-Holme will have twenty-five per cent. of
the profits of our partnership."

"Fifteen," said Ephrinell, "only fifteen."

"That is not fair, for I agree to thirty per cent, from Strong, Bulbul
& Co."

"Well, let us say twenty per cent., Miss Bluett."

"Be it so, Mr. Ephrinell."

"But that is a good deal for you!" whispered Caterna in my ear.

The marriage for a moment was in check for five per cent.!

But all is arranged. The interests of the two houses have been
safeguarded. The Reverend Nathaniel Morse repeats the question.

A dry "yes" from Horatia Bluett, a short "yes" from Fulk Ephrinell, and
the two are declared to be united in the bonds of matrimony.

The deed is then signed, first by them, then by the witnesses, then by
Faruskiar, and the other signatures follow. At length the clergyman
adds his name and flourish, and that closes the series of formalities
according to rule.

"There they are, riveted for life," said the actor to me, with a little
lift of his shoulder.

"For life—like two bullfinches," said the actress, who had not
forgotten that these birds are noted for the fidelity of their armours.

"In China," said Pan-Chao, "it is not the bullfinch but the mandarin
duck that symbolizes fidelity in marriage."

"Ducks or bullfinches, it is all one," said Caterna philosophically.

The ceremony is over. We compliment the newly married pair. We return
to our occupation, Ephrinell to his accounts, Mrs. Ephrinell to her
work. Nothing is changed in the train. There are only two more married
people.

Major Noltitz, Pan-Chao and I go out and smoke on one of the platforms,
leaving to their preparations the Caternas, who seem to be having a
sort of rehearsal in their corner. Probably it is the surprise for the
evening.

There is not much variety in the landscape. All along is this
monotonous desert of Gobi with the heights of the Humboldt mountains on
the right reaching on to the ranges of Nan Chan. The stations are few
and far between, and consist merely of an agglomeration of huts, with
the signal cabin standing up among them like a monument. Here the
tender fills up with water and coal. Beyond the Kara Nor, where a few
towns appear, the approach to China Proper, populous and laborious,
becomes more evident.

This part of the desert of Gobi has little resemblance to the regions
of Eastern Turkestan we crossed on leaving Kachgar. These regions are
as new to Pan-Chao and Doctor Tio-King as to us Europeans.

I should say that Faruskiar no longer disdains to mingle in our
conversation. He is a charming man, well informed and witty, with whom
I shall become better acquainted when we reach Pekin. He has already
invited me to visit him at his yamen, and I will then have an
opportunity of putting him to the question—that is, to the interview.
He has traveled a good deal, and seems to have an especially good
opinion of French journalists. He will not refuse to subscribe to the
Twentieth Century.
I am sure—Paris, 48 francs, Departments, 56,
Foreign, 76.

While the train is running at full speed we talk of one thing and
another. With regard to Kachgaria, which had been mentioned, Faruskiar
gave us a few very interesting details regarding the province, which
had been so greatly troubled by insurrectionary movements. It was at
this epoch that the capital, holding out against Chinese covetousness,
had not yet submitted to Russian domination. Many times numbers of
Celestials had been massacred in the revolts of the Turkestan chiefs,
and the garrison had taken refuge in the fortress of Yanghi-Hissar.

Among these insurgent chiefs there was one, a certain
Ouali-Khan-Toulla, whom I have mentioned with regard to the murder of
Schlagintweit, and who for a time had become master of Kachgaria. He
was a man of great intelligence, but of uncommon ferocity. And
Faruskiar told us an anecdote giving us an idea of these pitiless
Orientals.

"There was at Kachgar," he said, "an armorer of repute, who, wishing to
secure the favors of Ouali-Khan-Toulla, made a costly sword. When he
had finished his work he sent his son, a boy of ten, to present the
sword, hoping to receive some recompense from the royal hand. He
received it. The Khan admired the sword, and asked if the blade was of
the first quality. 'Yes,' said the boy. 'Then approach!' said the Khan,
and at one blow he smote off the head, which he sent back to the father
with the price of the blade he had thus proved to be of excellent
quality."

This story he told really well. Had Caterna heard it, he would have
asked for a Turkestan opera on the subject.

The day passed without incident. The train kept on at its moderate
speed of forty kilometres an hour, an average that would have been
raised to eighty had they listened to Baron Weissschnitzerdörfer. The
truth is that the Chinese driver had no notion of making up the time
lost between Tchertchen and Tcharkalyk.

At seven in the evening we reach Kara Nor, to stay there fifty minutes.
This lake, which is not as extensive as Lob Nor, absorbs the waters of
the Soule Ho, coming down from the Nan Chan mountains. Our eyes are
charmed with the masses of verdure that clothe its southern bank, alive
with the flight of numerous birds. At eight o'clock, when we left the
station, the sun had set behind the sandhills, and a sort of mirage
produced by the warming of the lower zones of the atmosphere prolonged
the twilight above the horizon.