The Blue Dragon: A Tale of Recent Adventure in China by Kirk Munroe
CHAPTER IX
JO FINDS THAT HE IS SOME ONE ELSE
When, late at night, Chinese Jo reached New York and alighted fromhis train in the Grand Central Station he was bewildered and almostfrightened by his surroundings. He found himself in a vast edificeoccupied by many long trains of cars, some standing still, eitherreceiving or discharging passengers, and others in motion, drawn orpushed by hoarsely puffing locomotives. Between every two trains was anarrow platform extending the whole length of the great station, andmost of these were crowded with outgoing or incoming passengers, allin a hurry, and each too intent upon his own affairs to pay attentionto those of his neighbors. Among them moved red-capped porters andblue-clad railway officials, too mindful of their own importance tocondescend to answer the low-voiced questions of an insignificant"Chinaman."
As Jo drifted with the tide of one of these human streams, his eyessearched anxiously every face within his range of vision with the hopeof discovering Mr. Wang. But no such good-fortune was in store for him,and finally he reached the street without having found his friend. Hehad asked several of the uniformed officials if they had seen a Chinesegentleman anywhere about the station, but some of them had only laughedwithout answering, while others had paid no attention to him. Outsidethe station, however, and standing irresolute on the sidewalk, Jo wasbeset by plenty of persons anxious to serve him. Drivers of carriages,cabs, and baggage wagons shouted at him and solicited his patronage.Agents of express companies wanted to take charge of his luggage,ragged street urchins struggled for possession of his hand-bag, whilehotel-runners besieged him with cards of their respective houses.
"But I only want to go to the Blevoort Hotel," he finally managed toexplain, "and not anywhere else."
"Take you to the Brevoort for five dollars," shouted a hack-driver,waving a whip in the lad's face and at the same time reaching for hishand-bag.
"I am going to the Brevoort House, and will show you the way if youlike," said some one close behind Jo, as he was attempting to explainthat he had not five dollars to expend on carriage-hire.
Turning, our lad saw a man, evidently, from the bag that he carried,a traveller like himself, and, greatly relieved to find some onewilling to aid him in this time of trouble, he gratefully accepted thestranger's offer of guidance.
"All right, then, come along," said the man. "No, we don't want no hack.Street-cars are good enough for us."
With this he waved aside the clamorous throng of drivers, and ledthe way to a car bound down-town. As they rode, the stranger, whileadmitting that he was not a resident of New York, so impressed our ladwith his knowledge of the great city, and of the manifold pitfalls thatit held for the unwary, that he inwardly congratulated himself uponhaving met so willing a guide, who at the same time was so competent todirect his steps.
The car took them within one block of their destination, and when Joread the name "Brevoort" over the doorway of the hotel he believed histroubles to be ended, for surely here he would find his friend, or atleast learn of his whereabouts.
"Is there a gentleman by the name of Wang stopping here?" he inquired ofa sprucely attired clerk at the desk.
"Not if we know it," was the reply, accompanied by a supercilious stare.
"But I received a telegram only a few hours ago telling me to meet himhere."
"Can't help that. If he is here it's without my knowledge, and you'llhave to find him as best you can."
"Then I will take a room for the night and wait till he comes," saidpoor Jo, desperately. "This is the only address he gave, and so he issure to look here for me sooner or later."
"Haven't a vacant room in the house," answered the clerk, shortly; "andif you think this hotel is a Chinese joint you're mightily mistaken."
"Let's get out of here," said Jo's friendly guide. "That's outrageous;and if this place isn't good enough for you it isn't good enough for meeither."
Here, unobserved by our lad, the speaker winked at the clerk, who winkedback understandingly. "Come with me," added the man. "I'll show you adecent place, where we can spend the night, and to-morrow I'll help youhunt your friend."
As Jo knew not what else to do, he for a second time gratefullyaccepted the offer of this stranger, and followed him out through theinhospitable doorway he had so hopefully entered a few minutes before.Again boarding a street-car, they were carried far down-town, andfinally reached a small hotel, in which they secured a room containingtwo beds.
There they spent the remainder of the night and had breakfast the nextmorning. By this time Jo had determined to make one more effort to findMr. Wang at the Brevoort House, and, if it failed, to return at once toHatton. He still had money with him to pay his fare, but not enough tokeep him much longer at a New York hotel. During breakfast, which he andhis newly formed acquaintance ate together, he confided this plan to thelatter, who gave it his hearty approval.
"Best thing you can do," he said. "New York is no place for a stranger,more especial a foreigner who is not used to American ways. There'sonly one thing, though. While we're down-town we might as well visitthe office of the police commissioners, and find out what they knowabout your friend. They keep track of all foreigners arriving in thecity, and are sure to have full information concerning any one sodistinguished as your Mr. Wang. It's only about a couple of blocks away,and you can leave your bag here to pick up as you come back."
Jo agreed to this proposal; and, filled with a new hope, willinglyaccompanied his friendly guide. They walked much farther than twoblocks, but our lad was so fascinated by the novel sights about himthat he took no note of the distance traversed. Finally they entereda massive stone building, in which an elevator speedily lifted themseveral stories above the street level. Jo caught a glimpse of theword "Commissioner," printed in letters of gold over a doorway, as hewas ushered into an anteroom, the entrance to which was guarded by anofficer. His acquaintance seemed to know this man, for he nodded to himas they passed in. Then he said to Jo:
"You sit here and wait a few minutes, while I go and see if thecommissioner can give us a hearing."
With this he turned away and disappeared through a second doorway at theother end of the room.
So Jo waited and waited with the unquestioning patience of his raceuntil more than an hour had passed, while many persons went in and outwithout paying him the slightest attention. At length he began to growuneasy; and, walking over to the officer who guarded the door, he asked:
"Is the commissioner very busy this morning?"
"Rather," was the laconic answer.
"Then, perhaps, I had better not wait any longer."
"Oh, I guess you had," was the reply, accompanied by a curious scrutinyof the young Chinese.
"But it may be that he won't have time to attend to my affair."
"He'll attend to you fast enough when the time comes. Never you fear."
Reassured, but at the same time somewhat perplexed by these answers, Joreturned to his seat and waited another hour. Then, determined to remainno longer, he walked to the door with the intention of going back to thehotel and carrying out his original plan.
"What do you want now?" inquired the officer on guard.
"I am not going to wait any longer," replied Jo.
"Oh, you're not going to wait any longer, aren't you? Reckon we'll seeabout that, too. Just you stroll back to where the deputy marshal leftyou, and stay there till you're ordered to move, or I'll make thingslively for you. Do you hear me, Chink? Well, then, get a move on."
Bewildered and frightened by the officer's fierce aspect, Jo did as hewas bidden, and again resumed his seat. He had hardly taken it, when thedoor through which his acquaintance had disappeared was flung open andanother officer called out, "Joseph Lee!" a summons that our lad obeyedwith alacrity.
He was ushered into a comfortably furnished room, containing a numberof men, and was conducted to the presence of one who sat behind a desk.Near at hand stood his acquaintance of the night before.
"Is this your man, d
"Yes, sir; he is," replied Jo's acquaintance, who was a deputy UnitedStates marshal, engaged in searching out illegal Chinese residents ofthe Eastern District.
"What is your name?" asked the man behind the desk, now turning to Jo.
"Joseph Lee," was the reply.
"Native of China?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long have you been in this country?"
"About eight months."
"Where?"
"Hatton."
"What have you been doing there?"
"Studying."
"Never lived in S----?"
"No, sir; but--"
"Never mind your buts. Haven't you been employed in Charley Wing'slaundry in S----?"
"Certainly not. I am a student, and--"
"This isn't your picture, then?" said the United States commissioner, atthe same time holding out an enlarged photograph of a scene in a Chineselaundry.
Jo took it, and to his amazement recognized himself, prominently in theforeground, and engaged in ironing as though that were his trade.
"Yes, sir," he answered. "This seems to be a picture of me; but--"
"That will do," interrupted the commissioner sharply. "Now let me seeyour certificate."
Jo had a certificate of identity, to which was attached a photograph ofhimself as he had looked when about to leave Hong-Kong. This certificatehad been furnished by an American consul-general in China; and, as hehad been warned always to keep it about his person, he now was ablepromptly to produce it.
"Um, um," muttered the commissioner, as he glanced over the paper. Thenaloud he added: "This appears to be a certificate of identity issuedto one Li Tsin Su, student, unable to speak English, and so forth.You speak English fluently, declare your name to be Joseph Lee, andadmit the correctness of this picture of yourself at work in a Chineselaundry, a photograph, by-the-way, that does not in the least resemblethe one attached to this certificate. Thus, your case seems to proveitself beyond need of further investigation, for you don't appear to beanywhere near as sharp in matters of deception as most of your trickycountrymen. I rather think you won't find America a congenial sphere foryour future studies. Marshal, remove the prisoner, and retain him incustody until such time as the next personally conducted excursion isready to start."
"This is an outrage!" protested poor Jo, struggling furiously in theviselike grip of the man who had taken him in charge, "and I shallappeal--"
"Shut up!" growled the officer, "and come along quiet, or you'll onlymake a bad matter worse."
With this he hustled his indignant but helpless prisoner from the roomat so breathless a pace that he could utter no further word of protest.
A half-hour later saw our unfortunate lad stripped of everything foundin his pockets and lodged in one of the city prisons, in company withseveral of his countrymen, all of the coolie class, who were awaitingorders from Washington for their deportation to China in accordance withthe provisions of the Chinese Exclusion Act of the United States.