The Yarkand Manner

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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Sir Lulworth Quayne was making a leisurely progressthrough the Zoological Society's Gardens in company withhis nephew, recently returned from Mexico. The latterwas interested in comparing and contrasting allied typesof animals occurring in the North American and Old Worldfauna."One of the most remarkable things in the wanderingsof species," he observed, "is the sudden impulse to trekand migrate that breaks out now and again, for noapparent reason, in communities of hitherto stay-at-homeanimals.""In human affairs the same phenomenon isoccasionally noticeable," said Sir Lulworth; "perhaps themost striking instance of it occurred in this countrywhile you were away in the wilds of Mexico. I mean thewander fever which suddenly displayed itself in themanaging and editorial staffs of certain Londonnewspapers. It began with the stampede of the entirestaff of one of our most brilliant and enterprisingweeklies to the banks of the Seine and the heights ofMontmartre. The migration was a brief one, but itheralded an era of restlessness in the Press world whichlent quite a new meaning to the phrase 'newspapercirculation.' Other editorial staffs were not slow toimitate the example that had been set them. Paris soondropped out of fashion as being too near home; Nurnberg,Seville, and Salonica became more favoured as planting-out grounds for the personnel of not only weekly butdaily papers as well. The localities were perhaps notalways well chosen; the fact of a leading organ ofEvangelical thought being edited for two successivefortnights from Trouville and Monte Carlo was generallyadmitted to have been a mistake. And even whenenterprising and adventurous editors took themselves andtheir staffs further afield there were some unavoidableclashings. For instance, the Scrutator, Sporting Bluff,and The Damsels' Own Paper all pitched on Khartoum forthe same week. It was, perhaps, a desire to out-distanceall possible competition that influenced the managementof the Daily Intelligencer, one of the most solid andrespected organs of Liberal opinion, in its decision totransfer its offices for three or four weeks from FleetStreet to Eastern Turkestan, allowing, of course, anecessary margin of time for the journey there and back.This was, in many respects, the most remarkable of allthe Press stampedes that were experienced at this time.There was no make-believe about the undertaking;proprietor, manager, editor, sub-editors, leader-writers,principal reporters, and so forth, all took part in whatwas popularly alluded to as the Drang Nach Osten; anintelligent and efficient office-boy was all that wasleft in the deserted hive of editorial industry.""That was doing things rather thoroughly, wasn'tit?" said the nephew."Well, you see," said Sir Lulworth, "the migrationidea was falling somewhat into disrepute from the half-hearted manner in which it was occasionally carried out.You were not impressed by the information that such andsuch a paper was being edited and brought out at Lisbonor Innsbruck if you chanced to see the principal leader-writer or the art editor lunching as usual at theiraccustomed restaurants. The Daily Intelligencer wasdetermined to give no loophole for cavil at thegenuineness of its pilgrimage, and it must be admittedthat to a certain extent the arrangements made fortransmitting copy and carrying on the usual features ofthe paper during the long outward journey worked smoothlyand well. The series of articles which commenced at Bakuon 'What Cobdenism might do for the camel industry' ranksamong the best of the recent contributions to Free Tradeliterature, while the views on foreign policy enunciated'from a roof in Yarkand' showed at least as much grasp ofthe international situation as those that had germinatedwithin half a mile of Downing Street. Quite in keeping,too, with the older and better traditions of Britishjournalism was the manner of the home-coming; no bombast,no personal advertisement, no flamboyant interviews.Even a complimentary luncheon at the Voyagers' Club wascourteously declined. Indeed, it began to be felt thatthe self-effacement of the returned pressmen was beingcarried to a pedantic length. Foreman compositors,advertisement clerks, and other members of the non-editorial staff, who had, of course, taken no part in thegreat trek, found it as impossible to get into directcommunication with the editor and his satellites now thatthey had returned as when they had been excusablyinaccessible in Central Asia. The sulky, overworkedoffice-boy, who was the one connecting link between theeditorial brain and the business departments of thepaper, sardonically explained the new aloofness as the'Yarkand manner.' Most of the reporters and sub-editorsseemed to have been dismissed in autocratic fashion sincetheir return and new ones engaged by letter; to these theeditor and his immediate associates remained an unseenpresence, issuing its instructions solely through themedium of curt typewritten notes. Something mystic andTibetan and forbidden had replaced the human bustle anddemocratic simplicity of pre-migration days, and the sameexperience was encountered by those who made socialovertures to the returned wanderers. The most brillianthostess of Twentieth Century London flung the pearl ofher hospitality into the unresponsive trough of theeditorial letter-box; it seemed as if nothing short of aRoyal command would drag the hermit-souled revenants fromtheir self-imposed seclusion. People began to talkunkindly of the effect of high altitudes and Easternatmosphere on minds and temperaments unused to suchluxuries. The Yarkand manner was not popular.""And the contents of the paper," said the nephew,"did they show the influence of the new style?""Ah!" said Sir Lulworth, "that was the excitingthing. In home affairs, social questions, and theordinary events of the day not much change wasnoticeable. A certain Oriental carelessness seemed tohave crept into the editorial department, and perhaps anote of lassitude not unnatural in the work of men whohad returned from what had been a fairly arduous journey.The aforetime standard of excellence was scarcelymaintained, but at any rate the general lines of policyand outlook were not departed from. It was in the realmof foreign affairs that a startling change took place.Blunt, forcible, outspoken articles appeared, couched inlanguage which nearly turned the autumn manoeuvres of siximportant Powers into mobilisations. Whatever else theDaily Intelligencer had learned in the East, it had notacquired the art of diplomatic ambiguity. The man in thestreet enjoyed the articles and bought the paper as hehad never bought it before; the men in Downing Streettook a different view. The Foreign Secretary, hithertoaccounted a rather reticent man, became positivelygarrulous in the course of perpetually disavowing thesentiments expressed in the Daily Intelligencer'sleaders; and then one day the Government came to theconclusion that something definite and drastic must bedone. A deputation, consisting of the Prime Minister,the Foreign Secretary, four leading financiers, and awell-known Nonconformist divine, made its way to theoffices of the paper. At the door leading to theeditorial department the way was barred by a nervous butdefiant office-boy." 'You can't see the editor nor any of the staff,'he announced." 'We insist on seeing the editor or someresponsible person,' said the Prime Minister, and thedeputation forced its way in. The boy had spoken truly;there was no one to be seen. In the whole suite of roomsthere was no sign of human life." 'Where is the editor?' 'Or the foreign editor?''Or the chief leader-writer? Or anybody?'"In answer to the shower of questions the boyunlocked a drawer and produced a strange-lookingenvelope, which bore a Khokand postmark, and a date ofsome seven or eight months back. It contained a scrap ofpaper on which was written the following message:" 'Entire party captured by brigand tribe onhomeward journey. Quarter of million demanded as ransom,but would probably take less. Inform Government,relations, and friends.'"There followed the signatures of the principalmembers of the party and instructions as to how and wherethe money was to be paid."The letter had been directed to the office-boy-in-charge, who had quietly suppressed it. No one is a heroto one's own office-boy, and he evidently considered thata quarter of a million was an unwarrantable outlay forsuch a doubtfully advantageous object as the repatriationof an errant newspaper staff. So he drew the editorialand other salaries, forged what signatures werenecessary, engaged new reporters, did what sub-editing hecould, and made as much use as possible of the largeaccumulation of special articles that was held in reservefor emergencies. The articles on foreign affairs wereentirely his own composition."Of course the whole thing had to be kept as quietas possible; an interim staff, pledged to secrecy, wasappointed to keep the paper going till the piningcaptives could be sought out, ransomed, and brought home,in twos and threes to escape notice, and gradually thingswere put back on their old footing. The articles onforeign affairs reverted to the wonted traditions of thepaper.""But," interposed the nephew, "how on earth did theboy account to the relatives all those months for thenon-appearance - ""That," said Sir Lulworth, "was the most brilliantstroke of all. To the wife or nearest relative of eachof the missing men he forwarded a letter, copying thehandwriting of the supposed writer as well as he could,and making excuses about vile pens and ink; in eachletter he told the same story, varying only the locality,to the effect that the writer, alone of the whole party,was unable to tear himself away from the wild liberty andallurements of Eastern life, and was going to spendseveral months roaming in some selected region. Many ofthe wives started off immediately in pursuit of theirerrant husbands, and it took the Government aconsiderable time and much trouble to reclaim them fromtheir fruitless quests along the banks of the Oxus, theGobi Desert, the Orenburg steppe, and other outlandishplaces. One of them, I believe, is still lost somewherein the Tigris Valley.""And the boy?""Is still in journalism."

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The Yarkand Manner was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Thu, Jul 21, 2016

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