CHAPTER VI New War Clouds

But if a clearing of the international political atmosphere was hoped for or expected in Halifax the following morning, the disappointment there was as sad and deep as it was in a dozen national capitals, all the chancellories of Europe, and in the State Department at Washington. Deep depression seemed to prevail everywhere, and indeed not without good reason.

The two newspapers of Halifax gave little additional news to that of the day before, but even this was of the most discouraging nature. It began to look, in fact, as though the representatives of the Japanese government had been instructed to seek a quarrel.

It turned out later that that was not at all the case, but who could discern the real motives behind the demands of that critical time?

Crowds hung about the local newspaper bulletin boards, but throughout the day they added little to the meagre enough news that had been given early in the morning.

Shortly before noon Jack received another code message from the makers of their machine, and with this the young men eagerly hurried to their hut, where they shut and locked themselves in, to avoid interruption during the process of deciphering, which, under the circumstances, was delayed rather than hastened by their own natural impatience.

But if the message, when finally translated, foreboded serious difficulties ahead, it also bore the seeds of an almost unbounded enthusiasm upon the part of the four young men.

"Consider yourselves in Government service," the message read, "and prepare for eventualities."

Of course, if this seemed to hold some indefinite sort of promise of more adventure, it also was filled with mystery, and might, after all, be entirely meaningless so far as concerned our four young friends, virtually for the time being chained in Halifax.

"What the deuce do you suppose it means, anyway?" asked Fred, when they had for the tenth time tried at further diagnosis of the baffling message.

"Guess about the only thing we can do under the circumstances is to sit pat and wait for further developments or additional instructions," said Big Jack.

"Yes," added Don, "and under those same aforementioned circumstances that's about the most tedious and difficult thing in the world to do."

"Well, admitting all that, what are you going to do about it?" asked Andy, by this time utterly oblivious to a pair of swollen hands which still showed clear evidences of the battle of the day before.

"Under the said circumstances, nothing; that's what we'll all do for the present," Fred answered gloomily.

"Righto! And it won't keep us very busy, either," assented Andy, who was of a nature which refused to be suppressed.

"Fine weather, too, just by way of cheering humanity up," suggested Big Jack, as he gazed morosely out of the window. It was cloudy to the point of threatening more rain, which, of course, under the most favorable circumstances otherwise, would only mean further inevitable delays in any attempt at the across-sea flight.

"Oh, what's the use of growling? Let's have a game of cribbage," Andy the cheerful suggested.

"You three can," Fred answered, "but as for me, I'm going down to the station to wait for the outside newspapers to come in. I'm the original little handy guy when it comes to bringing home the news. I'll see what I can do this afternoon."

And while the other three, for the want of anything better to do, sat down to the game, Fred wandered off toward the station, knowing that fully half an hour more must elapse before the train would be in.

That interval was not to be put in entirely without profit, however, for Fred was to learn the natural sequence of the enforced departure of the treacherous pilot, Henryson. He got it from another member of Henryson's crew, who, either by message from the former, or by some intuition, seemed to know what had happened. This fellow merely informed Fred that Braizewell had decided not to enter his machine or crew in the Transatlantic flight.

A lot of things were becoming apparent since first discovery was made of Henryson's treachery, and not the least among them was the fact that Braizewell, being of that stamp, did not care to match his product against others in any honest competition.

Fred digested the statement about Braizewell's withdrawal without comment. What was the use of discussion with a man who was probably familiar with, and subscribed to, all of Braizewell's and Henryson's carefully cooked-up but eventually unsuccessful perfidies? Fred merely heard the bit of gossip and passed on. He wasn't interested in either Braizewell or Henryson, now that neither was in any respect a factor in the projected America-to-Europe flight. He just loafed around the station until the train came puffing in, and from the baggage car a bundle of papers were tossed to the platform; and then his spirits awakened again and he was the first to get one from the news man.

His spirits awakened, did we say? One glance at the front page and he flopped into one of the rough station seats to read half a column before he remembered his equally curious companions back at the hut, who were awaiting his arrival with the latest news.

And it was news. Conditions were reaching a crisis in the Peace Conference! Not that conditions hadn't approached other crises there before; but they had been concerning minor matters as compared with the present difficulties.

In a way it concerned the celebrated "open door" policy as regards China, which the illustrious John Hay had established years before when Secretary of State of the United States. It dealt with the disposition of Shantung and Chinese provinces which Japan wanted; and it related intimately to Japanese inquiries as to American guarantees to China, and American loans floated in behalf of that nation which today typifies the oldest and the slowest of civilizations.

But the crux of the whole situation lay in the Japanese demand to see the important documents. Not that her envoys doubted the veracity of other delegations to the Conference or the authenticity of reports and records which were shown. Oh, no; of course not! Time and again this was politely and diplomatically reaffirmed. There wasn't any doubt, only—well, Japanese statesmen would like to see the documents and treaties; in fact, insisted upon it.

At any other time the representatives of the United States might have adopted different tactics. But here were involved more issues than one; more governments than two; more nations than half a dozen.

And there seemed to be a prevailing feeling in the Peace Conference that, aside from the rather roughly insistent way in which she was going about it, Japan was within her rights in demanding to see and to know exactly what she was subscribing or binding herself to, especially since the President of the United States had himself, during the war, laid down the principle of "open covenants, openly arrived at."

Fred read enough of the article to give him an intelligent idea of the whole delicate situation, and then hurried off to the hut and his three waiting friends.

They received the news with mingled feelings. There was the one of natural resentment at any delegation or government using pressure approaching force in dealing with the United States. There was that of speculation as to how it would end, and when. There was the uppermost question of all: What effect would this suddenly developed and new international situation have upon the proposed Transatlantic flights?

Big Jack strolled over again to the window to gaze out at the muddied atmosphere of Halifax. From every viewpoint and everywhere it seemed to be a gloomy outlook. Men fresh from war are wearied of it and have no desire for a new outbreak of that international pestilence. The glamor of it has gone; while they will of course fight if need be, they prefer the arts and the comforts of peace. They have learned to appreciate them a great deal more than they ever did before. Certainly no one in this group wanted to see any renewal of blood-spilling conflict.

"Well," said Big Jack finally, turning from the window and addressing the other three who had been debating the problem among themselves, "the thing resolves itself into this: apparently the American delegation has yielded to the pressure of unanimous opinion, or nearly unanimous opinion, in the Conference. But so far as I can grasp from reading this latest article, Japan is attempting to demand to see something within a period almost impossible for it to be produced at the Peace Conference to be seen. That's the ugly part of it all. It looks like any pretext for balking—if not worse."

"What I can't understand," said Don, "is the reason for her insistence and hurry."

"If we were familiar with the tricks and schemes of international dealings and diplomacy, perhaps all that might be clear," Andy answered. "We don't know, of course, what Japan has in mind, or what her envoys may have been led to believe."

"True," said Jack, "and after all, I guess that's a matter which safely can be left with the American delegation, headed by our President. But it does look like a ticklish situation."

"The head-lines here seem to state it," Fred added. "They're brief but to the point: 'Japan Demands Immediate Presentation of Important Treaties.'"

"Yes, under veiled threats of withdrawing from the Peace Conference," Don supplemented. "I guess all this is sad news to the Huns, eh?"

"There's probably German trickery back of the situation somewhere," assented Jack.

"Which doesn't settle the question of who's going to fry the steak and potatoes for supper," interjected Andy. "Only, if it's Fred, for the love of Mike will he please see that the frying process reaches the in'ards of the steak."

Accepting the reminder that it was near dinner time, and that it was, indeed, his day as cook, but utterly ignoring the suggestion that he didn't cook things through, Fred arose to prepare the meal, and the useless consultation broke up with Don starting to the store for lard, butter and other necessities, and Big Jack accepting the assignment of bringing in the wood.