Movie Pictorial (September 19, 1914)

THE MOVIE PICTORIAL Volume I CHICAGO, SEPTEMBER 19, 1914 Number 20 A Message to Tsing-Tau. By LLOYD RENYON JONES © Underwood & Underwood “I go to Tsing - Tau,” he told her, “on a message for the Mikado —to Tsing- Tau, and then to Kiao-Chau —- to bear a message to Len Sun, the banker in the beleagu e d town. But it must be so al- w a y s, Rose- bud, when the emperor com- mands.” For a long while Lonna- veta clung to him. It was difficult t o comprehend — this awfulness of war. It had seemed so re- T AMAKURA loved Lonnaveta, and the dainty little maid of Nippon recipro- cated his affection. Indeed, before the harvest moon was done with its mellow duty, the wedding would occur—all of which put the song of gladness into the heart of Lonnaveta, and made Tamakura bold and ambitious and very brave. “It is a fragrant gift to my little lady of the roses,” Tamakura whispered, as he pressed a tiny vial into his sweetheart’s hands. She withdrew the stopper expectantly, and a deli- cate bouquet floated on the wings of the air and made everything more adorable because of its exquisite essence. "It is this way in the starry places of Buddha, beloved,” Lonnaveta murmured, “beautiful with roses and redolent with rarest incense—” A step upon the stone walk of the little gar- den aroused them from their dreams of bliss. “The Mikado calls!” a soldier whispered as he saluted, and Tamakura understood. A day had passed, and then another went its way and little Lonnaveta counted the sloth- ful minutes until Tamakura’s return. The harvest moon beamed upon them, so round and burnished in its pale light, as he held Lonnaveta to his breast and trembled at thought of the news he bore her. “Poor little Rosebud,” he breathed at length. “You must be brave, for I shall be with you again soon.” “You are going—away?” she queried anx- iously, for before the great circular beacon of the night should have waned in its monthly visit, their marital vows wrnuld be pledged. The moon was already round and full—and very sympathetic, as it always was before its decline. mote, and the wedding hour was so romanti- cally near. “But there is danger,” she protested, pout- ingly. Tamakura’s chest heaved at thought of it—- not that he lacked courage, but because, alas! his life was not his own. His body belonged to the Mikado—his heart to Lonnaveta—his soul to Buddha. “I will take this comb—this hollow bauble of tortoise-shell,” he laughed bravely, as he with- drew the trinket from her raven tresses. “There —I shall wear it—with the message in its centre—so. And if I win, you will know it, little Rosebud—and scatter this wonderful in- cense as an offering to the spirit of the har- vest.” “And—if you—lose?” She faltered with a sob strangling her pulsing throat. “There, there!” He patted her gently on the shoulders—pressed his dry, hot lips to her tem- ples—and was gone. The next night, as the silvery orb shone upon the garden, two vials were side-by-side; the wondrous perfume for unstinted use should Tamakura win—a deadly vapor-producing nos- trum, should he fail! * * * Through the haze that hugged the waters of the Bay of Kiao-Chau, the grey spectres of Jap- anese warships were silhouetted against a jet background. Beyond them lay the German pro- tectorate of Kiao-Chau, the walled city that grimly waited its impending doom. Hugging the gloomy shores of Shan-tung, a billowing junk felt its way cautiously. A giant coolie manned its helm; a quiet, furtive Manda- rin squatted in its bow, looking intently ahead into the clinging fog. The Mandarin’s breath rasped and rattled in his throat at times, for only as Buddha willed could he succeed. A million dangers lurked be- hind him; a thousand million waited on his coming. The junk turned its prow more boldly into the bay, and picked its course between the sickly yellow, restive paths of the searchlights’ glow. The guns of the forts of Kiao-Chau were silent, husbanding their shells against the morrow. The Mandarin pointed warningly through the vaporous blanket and clicked his jaws. The coolie heard and layed hard on the rough beam that controlled the rudder. The uncertain craft skimmed narrowly past a floating mine. The uncounted perils had been reduced by one! There was a vibrant motion in the water. Some dark cigar-shaped object sped by them and a moment later a lurid tongue of flame leaped from the neighboring shore. A tor- pedo had missed them by a margin too small for computation; the restive searchlights of their best friends’ ships had found them out— but the emperor’s message to Tsing-Tau sanc- tioned no naval or military aid. The junk swerved in its course, nearly cap- sizing in the miniature tidal wave that lapped in the explosive wake. The watchful gunners in the Teutons’ forts had heard—and they were answering now. Hot missiles sang angrily above their heads, or dropped like giant firebrands into the pro- testing yellow waves. The gods of destruction had roused from their scant slumbers, and the night throbbed and ached with war—and agony ■—and death. Here and there mines were pressed into service, until the inferno raged above them, at all sides—and beneath their quaking feet. Tamakura, disguised in his Chinese garb, dare not so much as think of pretty little Lonnaveta, lest she catch his mental message of despair and perish with the long shadows that kept company with the moon. At length, the firing abated, and the dan- gers seemed diminished. Once more Tama- kura squatted hopefully in the bow, while the junk lapped through the sickening saffron wa- ters on the road to Kiao-Chau. The battlements at last were dull-limned through the humid veil, but Tamakura knew that beyond the parapets there lay in wait for creatures such as him a malignant fate—and he compressed his jowls lest his teeth rattle a chilly tattoo and betray his thoughts. Once discharged of his duty, he could drift southward, and he could yet return to redeem his avowals while the month of roses held sway. Suddenly a launch darted through the fog- like an arrow through a loop of lace. Tamaku- ra’s heart pumped fast, but his features re- mained serene. A glowering German counte- nance was thrust close to his. No word was spoken, but Tamakura understood. (Continued on Page 27) /