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human being they found。 That way there was no escape for us； nor
was there any escape for us by sea。
As the years passed my seven fellow…cunies came more to frequent
Fusan。 It was on the south…east coast where the climate was milder。
But more than climate； it lay nearest of all Cho…Sen to Japan。
Across the narrow straits； just farther than the eye can see； was
the one hope of escape Japan； where doubtless occasional ships of
Europe came。 Strong upon me is the vision of those seven ageing men
on the cliffs of Fusan yearning with all their souls across the sea
they would never sail again。
At times junks of Japan were sighted； but never lifted a familiar
topsail of old Europe above the sea…rim。 Years came and went； and
the seven cunies and myself and the Lady Om； passing through middle
life into old age； more and more directed our footsteps to Fusan。
And as the years came and went； now one； now another failed to
gather at the usual place。 Hans Amden was the first to die。 Jacob
Brinker； who was his road…mate； brought the news。 Jacob Brinker was
the last of the seven； and he was nearly ninety when he died；
outliving Tromp a scant two years。 I well remember the pair of
them； toward the last； worn and feeble； in beggars' rags； with
beggars' bowls； sunning themselves side by side on the cliffs；
telling old stories and cackling shrill…voiced like children。 And
Tromp would maunder over and over of how Johannes Maartens and the
cunies robbed the kings on Tabong Mountain； each embalmed in his
golden coffin with an embalmed maid on either side； and of how these
ancient proud ones crumbled to dust within the hour while the cunies
cursed and sweated at junking the coffins。
As sure as loot is loot； old Johannes Maartens would have got away
and across the Yellow Sea with his booty had it not been for the fog
next day that lost him。 That cursed fog！ A song was made of it；
that I heard and hated through all Cho…Sen to my dying day。 Here
run two lines of it：
〃Yanggukeni chajin anga
Wheanpong tora deunda；
The thick fog of the Westerners
Broods over Whean peak。〃
For forty years I was a beggar of Cho…Sen。 Of the fourteen of us
that were cast away only I survived。 The Lady Om was of the same
indomitable stuff； and we aged together。 She was a little；
weazened； toothless old woman toward the last； but ever she was the
wonder woman； and she carried my heart in hers to the end。 For an
old man； three score and ten； I still retained great strength。 My
face was withered； my yellow hair turned white； my broad shoulders
shrunken； and yet much of the strength of my sea…cuny days resided
in the muscles left me。
Thus it was that I was able to do what I shall now relate。 It was a
spring morning on the cliffs of Fusan； hard by the highway； that the
Lady Om and I sat warming in the sun。 We were in the rags of
beggary； prideless in the dust； and yet I was laughing heartily at
some mumbled merry quip of the Lady Om when a shadow fell upon us。
It was the great litter of Chong Mong…ju； borne by eight coolies；
with outriders before and behind and fluttering attendants on either
side。
Two emperors； civil war； famine； and a dozen palace revolutions had
come and gone； and Chong Mong…ju remained； even then the great power
at Keijo。 He must have been nearly eighty that spring morning on
the cliffs when he signalled with palsied hand for his litter to be
rested down that he might gaze upon us whom he had punished for so
long。
〃Now； O my king；〃 the Lady Om mumbled low to me； then turned to
whine an alms of Chong Mong…ju； whom she affected not to recognize。
And I knew what was her thought。 Had we not shared it for forty
years？ And the moment of its consummation had come at last。 So I；
too； affected not to recognize my enemy； and； putting on an idiotic
senility； I； too； crawled in the dust toward the litter whining for
mercy and charity。
The attendants would have driven me back； but with age…quavering
cackles Chong Mong…ju restrained them。 He lifted himself on a
shaking elbow； and with the other shaking hand drew wider apart the
silken curtains。 His withered old face was transfigured with
delight as he gloated on us。
〃O my king；〃 the Lady Om whined to me in her beggar's chant； and I
knew all her long…tried love and faith in my emprise were in that
chant。
And the red wrath was up in me； ripping and tearing at my will to be
free。 Small wonder that I shook with the effort to control。 The
shaking； happily； they took for the weakness of age。 I held up my
brass begging bowl； and whined more dolefully； and bleared my eyes
to hide the blue fire I knew was in them； and calculated the
distance and my strength for the leap。
Then I was swept away in a blaze of red。 There was a crashing of
curtains and curtain…poles and a squawking and squalling of
attendants as my hands closed on Chong Mong…ju's throat。 The litter
over…turned； and I scarce knew whether I was heads or heels； but my
clutch never relaxed。
In the confusion of cushions and quilts and curtains； at first few
of the attendants' blows found me。 But soon the horsemen were in；
and their heavy whip…butts began to fall on my head； while a
multitude of hands clawed and tore at me。 I was dizzy； but not
unconscious； and very blissful with my old fingers buried in that
lean and scraggly old neck I had sought for so long。 The blows
continued to rain on my head； and I had whirling thoughts in which I
likened myself to a bulldog with jaws fast…locked。 Chong Mong…ju
could not escape me； and I know he was well dead ere darkness； like
that of an anaesthetic； descended upon me there on the cliffs of
Fusan by the Yellow Sea。
CHAPTER XVI
Warden Atherton； when he thinks of me； must feel anything but pride。
I have taught him what spirit is； humbled him with my own spirit
that rose invulnerable； triumphant； above all his tortures。 I sit
here in Folsom； in Murderers' Row； awaiting my execution； Warden
Atherton still holds his political job and is king over San Quentin
and all the damned within its walls； and yet； in his heart of
hearts； he knows that I am greater than he。
In vain Warden Atherton tried to break my spirit。 And there were
times； beyond any shadow of doubt； when he would have been glad had
I died in the jacket。 So the long inquisition went on。 As he had
told me； and as he told me repeatedly； it was dynamite or curtains。
Captain Jamie was a veteran in dungeon horrors； yet the time came
when he broke down under the strain I put on him and on the rest of
my torturers。 So desperate did he become that he dared words with
the Warden and washed his hands of the affair。 From that day until
the end of my torturing he never set foot in solitary。
Yes； and the time came when Warden Atherton grew afraid； although he
still persisted in trying to wring from me the hiding…place of the