The North Pacific: A Story of the Russo-Japanese WarAllen, Willis Boyd
History
The North Pacific: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War
Allen, Willis Boyd
Russo-Japanese War, 1904-1905 -- Fiction
They paid their visit of respect to the American minister, who insisted
on their lunching with him, and laughed heartily over Bob's financial
experience. Late in the afternoon the officers returned to Seoul by
train, and were glad enough to reach the deck of the _Osprey_, fanned by
the cool breezes of the Yellow Sea.
As they distributed the gifts they had brought, and recounted their
adventures in the Korean capital, while Dave, Staples, and Dobson
shouted at the midshipman's woful face when the "temporary Rockefeller"
was described, they little guessed what was befalling their old friend
the war correspondent, whom we left in company with the renegade
Stevens, running away with one of General Kouropatkin's war balloons.
Larkin's first movement, as they rose above the roofs of Liaoyang, was
to throw out a whole bagful of ballast, with plenty of which the
air-ship was fortunately stocked. The two men crouched low in the
basket to avoid stray bullets from the victorious Japanese army, and in
ten minutes they were out of all danger from that source. Fred had made
more than one ascension, in a professional capacity, from Boston Common,
and felt quite at ease as the swelling bag above his head bore him
farther and farther from the scene of the late battle. Not so Stevens.
He continued to crouch in the bottom of the wicker car, and his teeth
fairly chattered with fright.
"Come, come, old chap," said Larkin cheerfully, "we're all right now.
It's only a question of making a safe landing somewhere in the rear of
the Jap army. I'm sorry to leave my friends the Muscovites, but needs
must when the wind drives. I wish the inventors would hurry up with
their dirigible balloons! Sit up, man, and take in this view. You may
never have such a chance again."
The panorama spread out beneath them was indeed a wonderful one. The
wind, following the direction of the mountain range, was now sweeping
them rather to the south than to the east, and at a height of about a
mile the balloon passed swiftly over lower Manchuria with its fair
streams, valleys and cornfields. Here and there a blur of smoke
indicated a military encampment, and long trains of waggons could be
made out, conveying stores to the front or wounded men toward the sea.
The earth presented the odd appearance of a shallow cup, rather than of
a convex surface. Now and then the landscape was blotted out by a
low-lying cloud which, travelling in a different current, was quickly
left behind. Once or twice, from a cottony puff of smoke, Larkin guessed
that his big aërial craft was a target for Japanese riflemen; but no
bullet came near to corroborate his surmise.
Stevens, meanwhile, recovered nerve enough to sit upright and peer once
or twice over the edge of the car; but each time he sank back with a
shudder.
"I always was giddy in high places," he muttered, resuming his former
abject attitude.
Larkin glanced at the pallid face, and felt a touch of pity for the
miserable fellow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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