A Bright Tomorrow by Gilbert Morris

Author:Gilbert Morris [Morris, Gilbert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042000, FIC026000
ISBN: 9781585586202
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2012-07-05T04:00:00+00:00

Amos disembarked from the Cora Adams early on the morning of May 28, 1900. Almost as soon as his feet touched Chinese soil, Amos Stuart was aware of a decided difference in the country. On his previous visit, he had been an object of curiosity, most of it friendly. But as soon as he stepped off the gangplank, he heard the hissing taunts of the Chinese who loitered on the dock: “Yang kuei-tzu!”

They’re calling me a foreign devil, Amos thought. He stared at them, and whereas the lower classes would have dropped their gaze, they now glared at him, eyes blazing with hatred. I’d hate to be caught out alone on a dark street with these fellows!

He ducked his head, then made his way to the street, where he hired a rickshaw to take him to the railroad station. Though the rickshaw coolie said nothing, Amos sensed the same distaste manifested by the men on the dock. And on the way to the railroad station, his approach was heralded by jeers and catcalls coming from the people in the crowded streets. Things are worse than Hearst or anyone else suspects, he mused.

Amos took the train from Shanghai and for two days and nights was bounced over the irregular tracks en route to Taku, a city which guarded the upper mouth of the North River. Once again, he experienced the same animosity from the train crew and the passengers that he had encountered earlier. Being the only white man on the train, he felt isolated and at times even afraid. Only the conductor spoke some sort of pidgin English, but when Amos tried to learn why the anti-American feeling was so great, the man clammed up, refusing to speak.

Amos was exhausted when the train finally pulled into the station at Taku but hurried to make contact with the naval force lying off the Taku Bar. There he found seventeen men-of-war, situated twelve miles offshore. It was this force the Empress feared, for she had nothing to match it.

The shore was swarming with activity, and with difficulty Amos located Admiral Seymour, the officer in charge of the fleet. Seymour was a short, spare man with pale blue eyes and a crusty manner. He was not overly happy to see Amos at first, but when he discovered that Hearst himself had sent the reporter, he thawed slightly. “Perhaps Hearst can draw some attention to this mess!” he snapped. “Lord knows we’re in trouble!”

“What’s happening, Admiral?” Amos asked.

“It’s a sorry business,” Seymour said in a clipped manner. “The Boxers are out of control, killing and looting all over the country—mostly missionaries, but any white person will do. They butchered a young English clergyman named S.M. Brooks in Shantung Province last December. It gets worse every day.” He gestured toward the soldiers and marines who were being bullied into order by non-coms and said, “We got a message from the Embassy at Peking last night that they’re expecting an attack, so we’re getting a rescue force together.

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