The Steel Tsar (9 page)

He fell back on the bed. His head hit the wall. He groaned. His body fell sideways. He had passed out.

I checked his pulse and his breathing, then I went to look for help. I recalled that there was a missionary doctor now in the hotel.

As I reached the ground floor and headed to the bar where I would find Olmeijer, I heard people near the windows begin to mutter, then to talk excitedly. The darkness outside was suddenly broken by a beam of bright light.

Olmeijer saw it. He seemed disappointed. When I reached him he muttered: “It’s the ship. It’s coming in.” He was going to lose all his customers.

I told him to send someone to look after Dempsey, and then I ran from the hotel towards the park. My intention was to guide the ship to her mast.

To my astonishment there were already uniformed men on the ground. I rushed towards one. They must have parachuted from the ship.

“Thank God you’ve come,” I said.

The nearest figure turned. I looked into the expressionless face of a captain in the Imperial Japanese Army. “Go back inside,” he said. “Tell them that if anyone attempts to leave the building it will be bombed to rubble.”

W
e were never to discover how the Japanese had found us. Either they had traced the wireless messages or they had trailed and destroyed the rescue ship. The fact was there was nothing we could do against them.

Soon Olmeijer’s place was full of small soldiers in off-white uniforms, their politeness to their prisoners contrasting with the long bayonets fixed on their rifles. The officer had a grim, self-controlled manner, but occasionally, it seemed to me, an expression of straightforward hatred crossed his face when he looked at us. We stood with our baggage (if we had any) in the middle of the floor. The women were sent aboard first. The Japs had managed to get the mast working and had winched the ship to ground level.

It was a large, modern ship. I was surprised that they had felt they could spare it, merely to pick up a few civilians, but I guessed that it had already been patrolling the area when its captain had been alerted to our presence.

Nye was closer to the windows than I. He turned to me. “My God, they’ve fired the town!” He pointed, addressing the officer. “You damned barbarians! Why did you have to do that?”

“Barbarians?” The Japanese captain smiled sardonically. “I am amused you should think that of us, Englishman, after what you did to us.”

“We did nothing! Whatever happened was a mistake. It suits you to blame us.”

The captain dismissed this. “However, we have not set fire to the buildings. It’s your own workers. A riot of some kind. I gather they’re on their way,
en masse
.”

It was credible. Thinking that they might get free of the island aboard a ship, the coolies could have persuaded themselves that it was possible to capture the vessel and sail it to freedom.

“Don’t worry,” continued the Jap, “we intend to protect you as well as ourselves.” His voice, pleasant and yet sharp, had a degree of contempt in it. I saw that Nye was upset by the exchange.

Nye blustered a little, but he could not argue with the man’s logic. We had far more to fear from the coolies, immediately at any rate, than from the Japanese.

It was possible to smell the smoke from where we stood; and traces of red firelight were reflected in the windows and mirrors of Olmeijer’s. The Dutchman had given up his despair and was now offering to serve drinks to his new customers (as he saw them). I think he had half a hope that Rowe Island was to be occupied and that he would be allowed to continue (as a neutral) to run the hotel. The soldiers motioned him to join us at the centre of the floor. He sat down on one of his own tables. I thought he might be going to cry. “I am Dutch,” he told the officer. “I am a private hotelier. A civilian. You cannot just remove me from the place I have spent most of my life building.”

“We have orders to arrest all Europeans,” said the Japanese. “And you are most definitely European, sir. We have nothing against the Dutch. However, if you were to be realistic you would understand that your country is an ally of Britain and that it is only a matter of days before you are involved in this war.”

“But we are not involved today!”

“Not as far as I know. Essentially our mission is to evacuate you from the island.”

“And what will happen to us?” asked Nye, still in an aggressive mood.

“You will be interned for the duration of hostilities.”

“We’re not spies!”

“Neither were those you interned in your South African war, you’ll recall.”

“That was entirely different. The reasons were complex...”

“Our reasons are also complex. You are foreign belligerents, potentially dangerous to our War Effort.”

“My God! And you infer that
we
are hypocritical!”

“You will not deny, sir, that this is effectively a military base.”

“It’s a mining concern!”

“But very useful as a fueling station. We shall be leaving troops behind. A garrison. This is conquered territory. When you go outside you will see that the Japanese flag now flies over the airfield.”

“Then why remove us? Is it usual practice?”

“It has become so. You will be interned at the European civilian prisoner-of-war camp on Rishiri.”

“Where the hell is Rishiri?”

“It’s a small island off the coast of Hokkaido,” said one of the Irish priests. Hokkaido was the large island north of Honshu, Japan’s main island. “Quite a pretty place, as I recollect. We did some missionary work there a few years ago.”

The Japanese captain smiled. “You’ll have to concentrate on Europeans now, Father. But you will have plenty of time to make converts, I’m sure.”

Nye fell silent. He finished the last of his gin fizz with the air of a man who was not likely to see another again for many years.

With the women gone, the older men were next to be taken from the room. The Japanese were by no means cruel to us. Those who were too weak to move easily were helped by soldiers, who even carried bundles and suitcases for their prisoners, shouldering their rifles in order to do so. There was no point in trying to resist them, and they knew it. The ship’s guns could have destroyed Olmeijer’s in seconds, and we had so many other people to consider.

A few minutes later the Japanese captain went outside and then returned to issue commands to his men. The rifles were unshouldered and they ran into the night, leaving only one man to guard us. We heard shouts, then shots; a terrible scream which rose and fell, then rose again: the scream of a mob.

“The coolies!” Olmeijer waddled towards the window. We all followed him. The guard did not attempt to stop us. He stood by the door, looking back in some trepidation.

The red firelight silhouetted the Malays and Chinese now trying to rush the airship which was defended by a line of well-disciplined Japanese soldiers. The coolies were badly armed, though one or two had rifles and pistols. For the most part the best weapons they had been able to muster were parangs and large picks and hammers. Panic, anger and hatred drove them against the rifle-fire. Not a bullet was wasted. They continued to fall until the corpses of the dead and wounded hampered the advance of those who still lived.

They appeared to have some sort of rough organization, however, because they now fell back. Their efforts were being directed by a figure in a crumpled European suit armed with a pistol.

I recognized him as he disappeared with the surviving coolies into the darkness.

How Dempsey had managed to leave the hotel in the condition in which I’d last seen him I didn’t know. But there he was, capering like a maniac, helping the coolies in their desperate attack.

They came in from two sides now, trying to divide the Japanese fire. This time two or three soldiers were hit. They retreated in order until they were closer to the ship.

Nye whispered to me: “This would be our chance to get out of here. Rush the guard and get into the bush, eh?”

I considered this. “Between the Japanese and the surviving coolies we’d have no chance,” I said. “There isn’t any food to speak of, either.”

“You’ve no guts, Bastable.”

“Perhaps. But I’ve a great deal of experience,” I told him. “There’s quite likely to be an exchange of civilian prisoners of war. We could all be in England in a matter of weeks.”

“But what if we’re not?”

“My view is that we’ll be better off with the Japs for the moment. If we’re going to escape, let’s escape from somewhere closer to Russian territory.”

Nye was disgusted. “You’re not exactly impetuous, are you, Bastable?”

“I suppose not.” I had seen too much of warfare and destruction in three worlds to place much value on romantic, impulsive schemes. I preferred to bide my time. I let Nye think what he liked and noticed that, without my agreement, he made no attempt to get free of Olmeijer’s.

The firing outside continued but was more spasmodic. Below, in the town, the flames were rising higher. Firelight was reflected on the white hull of the Japanese ship as it swayed slowly at its mast.

Dempsey must have made full use of his stimulants. From time to time I saw him, sometimes with a pistol, sometimes with a parang, leaping here and there amongst the shrubs and trees surrounding the airpark. He was demented. For what obscure, perhaps sentimental, reasons he had leagued himself with the coolies, I could not fathom. Perhaps he saw hope in turning them against the Japanese and saving the Europeans, but I doubted it. In his ragged jacket and trousers he was distinguished from the rabble largely by the fact that he was evidently in control. He had been trained in the navy and his old instincts for leadership were coming out.

The Japanese had also identified him and their fire was concentrated against him. He was courting their bullets. To me, it seemed he wanted them to kill him. He had been talking of suicide and perhaps this was in his eyes a more positive way of dying. Nonetheless he showed courage and I could only admire the way he harried the Japs, sending in coolies from every direction, sometimes at once, sometimes from a single angle.

His eyes glittered, filled with flames. There was a strange, cold grin on his lips. And for a moment I was consumed by an enormous sense of comradeship for him. It was as if I looked at some other incarnation of myself, in those dreadful days before I had learned to live with the guilt, the pain and the hopelessness of my own situation.

Then Dempsey rushed for the ship, all the remaining coolies at his back. He hacked down two soldiers before they could defend themselves. He fenced with the parang, warding off bayonets and bullets. He took another two of the Japanese and had actually reached the gangway into the gondola when, both arms lifted as if to some blood-greedy battle-god, he dropped.

I saw his body lying spreadeagled on the gangway. It twitched for a moment or two. I didn’t know if a bullet had struck him or if the stimulants had caused a stroke. The captain, sword in hand, ran up to the body and turned it over, instructing two of his men to drag it inside.

I heard one of the soldiers utter his name: “Dempsey”. And I wondered how on earth they could know him.

With Dempsey down, the coolies were quickly scattered. The captain returned to Olmeijer’s and ordered the rest of us aboard the ship. I asked him: “How’s the white man? Is he shot? Did he collapse?” But the captain refused to answer.

Nye said: “Look here, captain. You could tell us if Dempsey’s alive or dead!”

The Japanese drew in his breath and looked hard at Nye. “You have certain rights as a civilian prisoner of war. Captain Dempsey also has certain rights. However, I am not obliged to answer enquiries as to the fate of another prisoner.”

“You inhuman devil. It’s not a question of rights, but simple decency!”

The Japanese captain gestured with his sword and gave a command in his own tongue. The guards began to march us out.

As we left, I heard him say: “If we were not a civilized people none of you would be alive now. And Captain Dempsey would have been torn to pieces by my men.”

The captain seemed mad. Perhaps he did not enjoy his trade. Many soldiers did not, when real warfare developed.

I wondered what crime Dempsey had committed to make him so loathed by those who believed him guilty of it. It was almost certain, anyway, that he had paid the price of the crime with his life. I regretted very much that he had not had time to tell me his own story.

An hour later we were aloft, leaving the remnants of Rowe Island and its population behind. Through a small porthole I could see the flames spreading through the town. They had even caught some of the foliage. Small figures ran about in the inferno. It was still possible to hear shots as the Japanese continued to defend their newly conquered territory.

Our quarters were crowded, but not intolerable. Dempsey was not amongst us. Everyone assumed he had been killed.

It was dawn by the time we had gained our cruising altitude. Most of us were silent, dozing to the steady drumming of the engines. I suppose we were all wondering what would become of us once we reached the civilian camp on Rishiri. If the war continued as I had known other wars to continue, then it might be years before we were free.

I realized, with no particular dismay, that I might even die of old age before this particular conflict were resolved.

I was almost relieved that in no way was my fate any longer in my own hands.

T
he civilian prisoner-of-war camp was well organized and clean. The food was simple and adequate and our treatment was by no means harsh. There was a permanent Red Cross supervisor and a representative of the Swiss Government who had elected at the invitation of the Japanese to act as a sort of umpire. There were civilians of most nationalities here and those belonging to neutral countries (no longer the Dutch) were efficiently repatriated, so long as they could prove their identity and place of origin. There were a good many angry Poles, Bohemians and Latvians present, for instance. Technically they were Russian citizens, but vociferously denied their loyalty to any land save their own. Since Poles and Slovaks were fighting in Russian armies there was not a great deal of weight to their protestations.