Leaving Kangai--We Choose a Short Cut--Much Goitre in the
Mountains--A Deserted Village--The Jericho Road--We are
Attacked by Robbers--A Struggle in the Inn Yard--Odds too
great--Our Attendants are Seized and Carried Off--The Kind
Inn-Keeper--Inopportune Patients--A Race for Life--A City of
Refuge--A Beautiful Custom--Safe at Last--The Magistrate Turns
Out to be an Old Friend--The Charge to the Hunters.
Our next stopping place of importance was the town of Kangai. This was
a walled city of between ten and twenty thousand inhabitants in the
northern part of the province of Pyeng An Do. Being in the center of a
rather turbulent and independent community, at least at that time--and
when were mountaineers not so?--and quite near the Chinese border, its
governor was invested with almost provincial authority, had a large
number of soldiers always under arms, and surrounded himself with
the greatest possible show of power and state, having a numerous and
obsequious body-guard, a gun fired whenever he left his office, and a
great retinue of menials and officials who constantly attended him. He
told us that all this was necessary to overawe the people and establish
his prestige and dignity. He was a relative of the queen, and I had met
him at the palace.
As we approached the city and about three miles outside of it, we
saw in the distance a little company of soldiers with flying banners
and sounding trumpets, awaiting us apparently at the foot of a hill.
What this might portend we were at a loss to guess. It might mean
fetters and warder for intrusive foreigners, it might mean an order to
return, it might mean our immediate extinction, but so kind had been
our reception everywhere, barring sightseers, that we did not entertain
any serious misgivings, although greatly puzzled as to what the
demonstration could possibly signify. However, we marched right up, as
if this martial array concerned us not in the least. As soon as we came
within saluting distance the leader of the little company made us the
most profound obeisance and announced that he had been sent to escort
us to the city. So we proceeded with this rather cumbersome addition
to our modest suite, and not only this, for small boys are the same
all the world over, and a motley throng of them, attracted both by the
soldiers and the circus (or, shall we say, the menagerie?), closed in
around us. A mile farther on a second attachment of military, with its
inevitable corps of small boys, was awaiting us, and on we went, the
hubbub ever increasing, drums beating, trumpets sounding, flags flying,
wooden shoes clattering over the stones, louder, it seemed to me, than
all the rest, as I cowered in the shelter of my closely curtained chair.
[Illustration: PRINCE YI CHAI SOON, COUSIN OF KING.]
[Illustration: HIGH KOREAN OFFICIAL, KIM YAN SIK. PAGE 23]
Momentarily the formidable dimensions of the crowd increased, while
other bands of soldiers joined us at intervals, for which I was
devoutly thankful, for while the crowd seemed good-natured and simply
wildly curious, at the same time we were strangers, to whom Koreans
had the reputation of being inimical. With so large a crowd a small
matter may kindle a blaze of fury, and as we were rather inexperienced
and ignorant of the character of the people, I felt that whatever the
intentions of the magistrate might be, the hand of the responsible
official would be gentle compared with the hands of the mob. And
yet looking back on it all now, in the light of all that has since
occurred, it was not altogether inappropriate but in a way fitting,
that the first heralds of the gospel and the advent of Christianity to
this province should be with banners, trumpets and great acclaim. The
Kingdom had come, if only in its smallest beginnings, and had come to
stay.
The wonder of it, which will grow, I think, more and more through the
eternal ages, is that God should allow us, his poor creatures, to share
with him in a work far greater than the creation of a universe, even
the founding of an eternal and limitless kingdom of holiness, glory and
peace.
But to return to our noisy procession. Within the city the noise and
excitement (“yahdan” the Koreans would say, and nothing expresses it
so well) were far greater than ever. Dancing girls and hoodlums of
every description swelled the crowd, laughing, shouting, pushing,
jostling. High points of vantage were occupied to the last inch with
small boydom, booths or screened seats had been rented for the use of
the ladies, and the streets were hardly passable. I shivered. I felt
like a mouse in the power of a playful tiger. It is not a pleasant
thing to feel one’s self the object of desire--even if merely in a
sightseeing way--of thousands of strange people. Many in that crowd had
come more than ten miles to behold us. My husband to protect me from
the unpleasantness, to say the least, of falling into the hands of so
large and eager a mob, hastened to the gates of the magistracy, quickly
dismounted and bade the guards be ready to close them the instant my
chair had entered. This was promptly done, the gates well bolted and
guarded, and proud of our victory over the small boys, we hastily
retired to our rooms. But hark! what noise was that, like thundering of
a waterfall, or of a river dashing away its barriers? Alack! it was
the boys. They had scaled the wall on each other’s shoulders, and were
literally pouring over it into the compound.
I looked around the little room for some means of escape, like a hunted
animal. Its windows and doors were double, the inner one sliding into
the wall, but both were composed simply of a light frame of slender
sticks covered with stout paper, and already the dancing girls and boys
were tearing away the outer coat preparatory to forcing an entrance.
Suddenly I espied a small door, which I found opened into a long dark
closet, full of the dust and dirt of unclean centuries. Hither I fled,
cowering in its farthest recesses. Those who looked in the windows, and
saw nothing of the strange animal _genus Americanum_, concluded she
must be in some other place, and so a short respite was granted, which
Mr. Underwood and the deputy magistrate made good use of in guarding
our house doors. The deputy himself was obliged to take his station
there, and threatening with awful penalties any soldier who should
permit the “_chabin duli_” (roughs and crowd) to enter uninvited.
Henceforth during my stay in that town I was comparatively untroubled.
A very epidemic of diseases, however, seemed to have smitten the place.
Every one needed the doctor, and old, almost forgotten complaints were
resurrected and rubbed up, or if none existed new ones were invented
to furnish an excuse for an introduction. People stood in long rows
from morning till night to see this popular doctor, and had I been
medicining for money, I might have charged almost any price and filled
high our coffers; but I was only too glad to be able to tell them of
the great Physician, whose unspeakable gift is without money or price.
The magistrate treated us very kindly, and one day made a dinner
for Mr. Underwood at a little summer house outside the city. Here,
after partaking of various Korean dainties, he asked him a great many
questions about America and Americans. My husband had thus a fine
opportunity to enlighten the man on our own mission and work. He of
course listened politely, but the Korean noble is very difficult
to reach. He is bound so rigidly by so many social, religious and
political fetters, that he usually will not allow himself to consider
for a moment the possibility of casting them off.
We were much disappointed at not finding here any of the inquirers
of whom we had been told so much, and to examine and instruct whom
Mr. Underwood had turned so far aside from the main road to his final
destination, Weeju. We could only conclude that they had either been
too shy to approach us in the public quarters in which we were located
or that we had been entirely misinformed, and we were forced very
reluctantly to accept the latter as a fact.
The magistrate sent a number of presents to us ere we left--a box
of cigars, though we were not smokers, another of candied Chinese
ginger, honey, flour, beef, vinegar and potatoes. These were articles
which they found by diligent inquiry from our attendants that we were
fond of. They scoured the country for potatoes, though except in the
mountains, where rice will not grow, few Koreans cultivate or eat them.
On leaving Kangai we could either take a long road around the
mountains, well known and much traveled, or a short cut through and
over them, much less frequented, but which the magistrate assured us
was now quite safe, as he had recently passed through there himself
and believed that everything was now quiet and orderly. The locality
had a bad reputation, being off the main lines of travel in the
recesses of the mountains, where escaped criminals were wont to hide,
and where a band of robbers were said to have made their lair. But time
pressed, work was urgent, the magistrate’s statements were reassuring,
and we decided to take the shorter road. We were provided with a police
official and a soldier, who, our host told us, would be respected and
feared, and our entire safety would thus be assured.
[Illustration: CARRIER OX. PAGE 54]
[Illustration: THE OX-CART OR TALGOOGY. PAGE 197]
Our road on leaving Kangai passed directly over the mountains, through
a region more sparsely populated and more wildly beautiful than
anything we had yet seen. There were a few stray farms where sparse
crops of potatoes were raised, but the mountains hemmed us in closely
on all sides. They were covered with magnificent trees; here and there
a woodcutter was seen or heard, but the evidences of human life were
few. We had noticed with interest through the mountain districts a
large number of people for these sparsely settled regions who were
afflicted with goitre.
At night we reached a small village of scarce a half dozen houses,
established by the government as a place of rest for travelers, since
there was no other place within convenient marching distance. A subsidy
was given in return for which these natives were bound to provide
refreshments, horses, oxen, or torches for those who bore passports
or official orders. But travel was rare and they had come to consider
their duty a tyrannical exaction, their subsidy as their right; so when
we arrived an ominous silence reigned over the place, and we found it
had been completely deserted and that not long since everything had
been dropped and the people had fled and hidden. This inhospitable
reception was a very definite sign of ill will, a plain refusal to
give the shelter and assistance they were so well paid to bestow. Of
course it did not auger well, but there was nothing to be done for
the present but to try to supply our needs. Fires were built, horse
provender found, and rice for coolies, mapoos and attendants cooked,
while for ourselves we fared well on the contents of our box of stores.
Some of the villagers returned that night to their homes.
Early next morning, having paid for what we had used, we started away.
But the necessity for haste, as our stage that day was a long one,
and our want of suspicion of any serious danger led us into making a
mistake; we divided our small party, Mr. Underwood, the soldier and
myself hurrying on ahead on what we afterwards called the Jericho
road, leaving helpers and constable with the pack-ponies and mapoos,
which traveled more slowly, to follow at a distance of several miles.
We planned to reach our noon rest place early, and order food and
provender (which it always takes an hour to cook) in advance, so that
all might be ready on their arrival and a speedy departure insured.
The day was a very fine one, the mountain air exhilarating and
delightful, and there were no sightseers, so that Mr. Underwood and I
walked together a long distance, laughing and chatting and gathering
the pretty spring flowers, of which there were many, especially the
sweet-scented violets, which I was surprised to find growing thus wild
in the mountains. We arrived early at the little hamlet which was our
destination, and were immediately installed in the one tiny inn the
place could boast.
I am not sure how much time elapsed before our loads appeared, but it
was not very long, and when word was brought that they were coming
my husband slipped a small revolver (our only weapon) from our
traveling-bag into his pocket. I understood too little of the language
to know what message he had received, but he told me that some rough
fellows were coming with our party and that there might be trouble, in
which case he might need the revolver. He had received a message, while
on the way to the inn, that robbers had overtaken our people and were
following us. It seems that as soon as we were out of sight a number of
men had overtaken our loads and charged one of our mapoos with theft,
saying that they had come to reclaim their stolen property. They bound
his hands, took possession of our ponies and loads, and followed us
to our inn. I peeped out through a crack where the door stood ajar,
and saw what was not reassuring, a party of twenty or thirty country
fellows, wilder and ruder looking than any I had yet seen, their hair
falling in matted locks around their evil faces instead of being
fastened in the usual rough top-knot, and their angry eyes fierce and
bloodshot. Each carried a short stout club, and they were all shouting
in angry tones at once, while our mapoo, his hands bound, my husband,
the constable, soldier and helper stood in the midst of this wild
throng. The tiny place seemed filled with the men and the hubbub, while
the frightened villagers peeped in at the gate or over the wall; our
brave chair coolies had hidden away, for which we were later extremely
thankful.
The attacking party with loud and angry voices accused our mapoo
of having stolen their money, a hat and a bowl; and when asked for
evidence, pointed to the man’s own shabby old hat, then on his head, to
a rice bowl, placed on top of the packs (he said by their hands), and
to our own large and heavy bag of Korean cash, fastened and sealed just
as we saw it placed on the pony’s back in the morning. They refused to
release the mapoo unless these things were delivered up. Mr. Underwood
told them that the hat and money were ours, but that he would go with
them before a Korean magistrate and leave the whole matter to his
decision, only they must unbind our mapoo. This they would not hear
to and continued to insist on our giving them the money. My husband
absolutely refused to do this. Meanwhile, having placed himself, with
the brave little soldier at his side, in a narrow space wide enough
only for two, between the wall of the compound and the house, he bade
the latter cut the mapoo’s bands. The mob threatened to kill him if
he did so, but he turned to Mr. Underwood and said, “Does the great
man bid me cut?” and receiving the affirmative reply, he at once cut
the ropes which bound the mapoo. The ruffians made a rush, but Mr.
Underwood, hastily pushing the mapoo behind him, managed with the aid
of the soldier at his side in that narrow place to push one man back
against the others and keep them off for some time.
While his whole attention was thus engaged, however, with those in
front, some of the party found a way to the rear, and coming up quietly
behind, suddenly pinioned his arms back and held him helpless, while
the others carried off our poor mapoo away outside the village, their
voices dying away in the distance. In the awful silence that succeeded
the uproar we waited what would follow. After what seemed an age of
suspense they returned without the man and seized and carried off our
constable. Again that fateful silence, that agonizing suspense; again
another raid, and our other mapoo was dragged away. If these and our
other companions had shown half the courage of the little soldier and
made any effort to defend themselves and us, and especially had the
chair coolies stood by us, the ruffians would very likely have been
beaten off. As it was, we were practically helpless, the only question
was who was to be attacked next. Mr. Underwood was very doubtful of
the wisdom of producing the little revolver until the very last
extremity. One by one they carried away the members of our party till
only Mr. Underwood, the little soldier and I were left.
[Illustration: A KOREAN VILLAGE]
We learned afterward that they were a set of wild men, many of them
fugitives from justice, probably an organized band of robbers, into
whose hands we had fallen, and the fear that lay like ice at my heart
was that when all our friends and defenders were one by one removed
they would carry away and murder my husband too. So I waited, scarcely
breathing, for the next return. What I dreaded they did in fact propose
to do, saying it was the right way to treat foreigners. They said they
had robbed and killed a Japanese officer some years ago, and having
never been punished, would be quite safe in treating us in a similar
way. On our return to Seoul we found by inquiry that this was true,
that while the government had been forced to pay a heavy indemnity,
they had never been able to identify and punish the murderers. Had we
been overtaken before we reached the village perhaps our fate would
have been that of the Japanese; but when the affair reached this point
the villagers interfered and forbade. They said they had allowed
them to carry off our Korean servants and our money, but should we,
foreigners, known at the palace and carrying a passport, be killed
there, their village would have to bear the penalty, and we must be
spared. They were only a few men, but probably people who, knowing
the haunts of the criminals and able to identify them, had them to
some extent in their power. The men therefore sullenly filed away, or
at least most of them. One or two of the fiercest and most repulsive
still hung about, and one of them walked into my room (an insult in the
eyes of all Koreans) and insolently stared until my husband, entering,
ordered him out.
The inn-keeper was a little man not five feet high, who did all in
his power to reassure and make me comfortable, as if such a thing
were possible with our poor friends in distress, if not dead, and our
own fate only too uncertain. It was twenty-five English miles to the
nearest magistracy, and doing our best, it would be difficult to reach
it that night; but we knew that if any help was to be had for the
captives it must be secured at once, aside from the fact that we had
no assurance of safety with so small a party until within the walls of
the yamen. So it was decided to start as soon as possible. My scared
chair coolies had sneaked out of their hiding places in a sufficiently
well-preserved condition to be able to partake of a hearty meal, and
were soon ready to start. My husband had a Korean pony which possessed
the rare virtue of kicking and biting every one who attempted to touch
him, except his mapoo and his master; to which quality we were indebted
for his being left us that day. One other pony we were able to obtain,
but as it of course could carry only our rugs and bedding, the rest of
our belongings we were compelled to leave behind.
We asked the host to take them into his house and take charge of them,
to which he willingly consented. His son, in an agony of terror, begged
him not to do so, as the robbers had threatened to come and burn down
his house if he sheltered either us or our goods. The stout-hearted
little fellow, whose soul was much too large for his body, laughed
at the threat, and bidding one of the very men who had attacked us
give a lift, he carried our trunks into his house and said he would
take good care of them for us until we should send for them. In the
meanwhile Mr. Underwood had been urging me to eat, which I tried in
vain to do, as a large lump of something hard had become fixed in my
throat, would neither go up or down and no food could pass that way. In
fact, I may as well admit I was a very much frightened woman, and my
whole desire was to run away as fast and as far as possible from that
dreadful locality. It sounds, and is, disgraceful, but as this is a
narration of facts it may as well be confessed. My chief grief was that
we must leave our poor friends behind. That, indeed, seemed cruel and
unthinkable, yet there appeared to be no other way to relieve or help
them.
Just as we were ready to start two or three country people came and
asked for medicines for trifling complaints. Was anything ever so
ill-timed? Surely we could not wait then, when the lives of our poor
people as well as our own perhaps depended on our speedy departure. But
not so, counseled my husband. These men and women needed help which we
could give. It was our duty to show that we, as the servants of Jesus,
had come in a spirit of brotherhood and love, and it gave us a fine
opening to deliver a message and to distribute the printed Word--it
would not take long, and in any case were we not in God’s hands? So not
knowing what moment the ruffians might return to drag us away to share
the unknown fate of our attendants, perhaps death, surely torture, I
prescribed. Alas! I hope none of my patients were poisoned; but with
so distracted a mind did I work that it was very difficult to fix my
thoughts on afflicted eyes, ears and throats, etc. At length all had
been seen, the medicines repacked, when another patient appeared; again
we waited, I diagnosed and prescribed and Mr. Underwood prepared the
medicine; but still another and yet another appeared, till I began
to think we should not be able to leave that day at all. At last,
however, all were satisfied, and we started with our race with time,
considerably after two o’clock.
We had twenty-five English miles to travel before we could reach the
nearest magistrate, on a road leading through and over the mountains.
It was wild and exceedingly beautiful, but correspondingly rough and
difficult. Sometimes it was only the narrowest foot-path, running
along a ledge of rocks overhanging the stream; sometimes it was almost
lost among great boulders, which must be skirted or surmounted. The
loveliest wild flowers were all around us, but for once they did not
tempt us to linger. We had barely left the confines of the village
before we saw in the road before us the prostrate and apparently
inanimate body of a man, whom we soon recognized as our constable. He
proved to be not dead, but simply fainting from the cruel beating he
had received. He soon revived a little and begged us to hurry on for
aid. He was too much exhausted and bruised to be carried on with us,
unless we abandoned our purpose of reaching the magistracy that night,
which it seemed for the best good of all to do; so most reluctantly we
left him to the mercy of the villagers. It was a sore alternative, but
otherwise help for the others would have been delayed many hours.
When we had proceeded two or three miles farther we saw a line of armed
men half kneeling barring the road in front of us, with their guns
aimed apparently at us. I of course concluded that my last hour had
come, but we decided that to advance with no signs of fear or doubt
was the only course to pursue, and found a few minutes later that our
formidable-looking opponents were only some hunters waiting game that
was being driven towards them by others. Our road steadily ascended,
and was more and more difficult. Where it was worst I walked to relieve
the tired coolies, for even with four men and a light burden it is
no easy matter to carry a chair up the mountain side on a warm April
afternoon. When sunset was almost due, and we had many miles yet to go,
the coolies insisted on waiting for supper. I dreaded the possible
necessity of being obliged to spend a part of the night unsheltered in
a country that seemed so hostile, added to which the other thought of
the necessity for speed made it seem impossible and wicked to delay for
such a paltry thing as food.
Why the men who had seemed so bitter and cruel at noon had not followed
and attacked our weakened party I have never been able to entirely
explain. I can only surmise that, like most Asiatics, they were firmly
convinced that Mr. Underwood, in common with all foreigners, always
went heavily though secretly armed, and that any attempt to injure our
persons would result in awful calamity. In addition, our passport and
the well-known fact that we were on very friendly relations with the
palace may have made them fear the consequence of harming us, even
though they were more than half resolved to do so. More than this, the
villagers who forbade them to touch us probably knew their haunts and
would be able to hunt them out; and lastly, the fact that Mr. Underwood
stoutly resisted them and showed no signs of fear undoubtedly had a
marked effect upon their treatment of us. Witness the fact that even
the little soldier, the only man of our native party who fought them
and showed no fear, was the only one of the Koreans who escaped unhurt.
If we had at any moment shown ourselves afraid of them they would have
taken it as sure proof that we were defenseless. Had they seen our
little revolver, and known it for our only weapon, they would have
counted us, as we were, practically helpless, and our fate might have
been decided very differently.
At the time I felt certain they were not through with us, but having
weakened our party, they would attack us in the lonely road, far away
from the friendly village, and finish their work.
We could scarcely hope to distance them, handicapped as we were, but I
felt we could not put too much space between them and us, and many a
backward glance I cast, expecting to see them emerge any moment from
some rock or tree. Good for man or woman it is to feel one’s self cast
utterly on God’s mercy, and entirely in his hands, to know one’s self
beyond all human aid, with him alone to look to for succor. As I turned
to my husband that day and said, “Well, there’s nothing left to do but
to trust the Lord,” it flashed over us both how commonly we only trust
him when there is nothing else to do, as if his help were the last we
should ever invoke, a last forlorn hope. How far, far too much, we fall
into the habit of trusting in an arm of flesh and all the frail little
human makeshifts with which we encompass ourselves and fancy we are
safe. But how near he seems, how strong the uplift of the “everlasting
arms,” when the soul is left alone to him.
We were forced to wait some time while our tired coolies fed, the
darkness meanwhile coming on rapidly. At length, rather than waste
any more time, I started, walking in advance and leaving the coolies
to follow; eat I could not. Soon the road divided into two, one a
short cut over the mountain, the other a much longer one around it; we
decided to take the shorter road, which also leading through the woods
became extremely dark, so that in a short time we were obliged to call
for torches, the road too turning out to be very bad. It was barely a
foothold, circling and twisting down the precipitous mountain side.
Mr. Underwood soon concluded that he would rather trust his own feet
than his pony’s, as we heard the displaced stones go rattling down into
depths far below; but as for me, though I would have much preferred to
descend from my chair, which had some time before overtaken us, I was
now so tired that it would have delayed us too much and added nothing
to my safety.
Still it was rather an uncomfortable thing to be carried along on the
brink of a precipice, down a slippery, uncertain path, in a darkness
which was scarcely relieved, only made visible, by the flickering
torchlights, especially as they invariably burned out before the next
came up, and we were obliged at times to proceed a quarter of a mile
or more--it always seemed more--in total darkness; and yet worse than
this is probably often experienced by people traveling in the mountains
for pleasure. At last, however, after nine o’clock, Mr. Underwood came
to the chair and bade me look up. There above us on a hill in relief
against the starlit sky stood the walls and gate of the little city. A
city of refuge indeed, and we realized that night, a little at least,
of the joy of the hunted, who, closely pursued by the avenger of blood,
found himself safe within protecting walls. The gates were hospitably
open as our messenger had arrived, and we were expected.
We were told that it was a custom in many towns in the north to set a
lamp in each doorway as a token of welcome to expected guests who for
any reason were persons of importance. As we passed down the street and
saw these bright little beacons before each door our hearts were deeply
touched. Although it was too late for a formal audience, and the gate
of the magistracy was closed, my husband insisted on being admitted at
once. The request was granted and he hurried in and began the usual
ceremony of introducing himself, when a familiar voice exclaimed, “And
don’t you know me?” Then for the first he looked closely into the face
of the official before him, and found that he was an old friend from
Seoul, who had often been entertained at our house.
All was now easy. The events of the morning were carefully related,
with the request that the police should be sent at once to rescue and
bring back our people, reclaim our goods and arrest, if possible,
the criminals. This he promised to do at once, and in fulfillment,
immediately ordered up the hunters, a guild of brave men who know
the woods and mountains for miles around, and who fear nothing. His
spokesman then called out to them in loud tones, which thrilled through
the clear starlit night, the order to go at once, find and arrest the
robbers, and bring safely our attendants and goods in three days’ time,
or lose their heads. To which they replied in a sort of chant in a
minor key that they would so arrest, reclaim, and bring back in three
days’ time or would lose their heads. The last syllable long drawn,
rolled, rippled, and re-echoed, seeming to die away somewhere among
the stars. The condition about the loss of their heads was, of course,
merely for rhetorical effect, or very likely the echo of an old custom,
the address and reply being probably a form hundreds of years old.
At any rate, though they returned after three days had passed, their
mission not fully accomplished, there was no talk of beheading, or
thought of it in any quarter.
It may be noted that not much has been told in this chapter of
Christian work and its results, but it must be remembered that
conditions were somewhat unfavorable. Owing to the fears of our
American minister, Mr. Underwood had been forbidden to preach in the
country at this time, so that his work was limited to studying the
country and the people and their possibilities, laying plans for future
work, examining, instructing and encouraging converts and supervising
and testing the work of native helpers. As for me, the effort to make
a favorable impression through the treatment of the sick and the
distribution of tracts was the limit of my usefulness.