Anxious Hours

Schöneluft Log, 1900.06.30

Ulrik Manfred Adler, acting Captain

40.48,116.10, traveling south, southeast at 49 knots

I convinced the boiler crew to clean the fireproofing vat by giving them the ginger beer. They gave two cases to the Grandmothers as an apology and kept the rest.

Mrs. Huang has tried to tell me more about the violence on the ground, but there are too many unknown words in the way. Men of the countryside are killing foreigners, that much I understand. I understand the pattern of the burned houses, too. Missions, primarily, but any house harboring westerners.  Not only are the houses burned, but the occupants are executed. Even the children.

It has taken many hours for me to understand this, or perhaps to believe it. But I think on the last fifty years China has endured – the opium trade, wars with Britain, war with Japan, every empire-building nation on earth slavering over this, the oldest empire. I know nothing of China’s internal politics, but the pressure from outside is obvious.

I confess I have never approved of missionaries. After all, the Chinese have perfectly good religions of their own. Believe as you wish, yes? But do not think God needs you to explain His vast wonders to anyone else! I have visited many nations under the employ of the von Hedwigs. I follow their lead and listen to learn. When you are talking, you learn nothing.

I expected to be greeted as a friend in the Grandmothers’ village, but received stones instead of bows. I listen to this, and to the burned houses. The drought is as widespread this year as the floods were last. The people are hungry. They are angry. They should be angry at foreign governments who would divide China among them like pie at a banquet. But the Kaiser is not here, nor Queen, nor Czar, nor President. So they take out their anger on the invaders they can see. Even the children.

I write this to fill the anxious hours to Pekin, but I am too restless to continue. I must prepare – for what? How bad can it be? Every western empire, as well as the Russians and Japanese have a presence in eastern China and the protection of the Imperial Army. Surely a mob of peasants will be rebuffed! Surely the Imperial City will remain an island of tranquility, unchanged by the tides of time and turmoil. Surely Philomena will be safe? Yet as we sail over empty fields and deserted villages I am uneasy.

I will survey the weapon stores, even the experiments in Mein Herr’s laboratory. The ball-lightening generator is dangerous and unpredictable, but what else is there? This is not a warship. I must be creative. I cannot plan for I have no idea what I may expect when we get to Pekin. Then I will brief the boiler chief and Chef. We are flying into danger.