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A LADY'S CAPTIVITY
AMONG
CHINESE PIRATES
IN
The Chinese Seas.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH
OF
MADEMOISELLE FANNY LOVIOT,
BY
AMELIA B. EDWARDS.
LONDON:
GEO. ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON STREET;
AND 18, BEEKMAN STREET, NEW YORK.
LONDON:
THOMAS HARRILD, PRINTER SALISBURY SQUARE,
FLEET STREET.
Dedication.
TO MADAME * * *
MADAME AND FRIEND,
When I first related to you the following strange and eventful
episode, you advised me, inexperienced as I was, to write and publish
it. I had never written a book in my life; but you encouraged me to
make the attempt. "Be simple," you said, "be natural, and even
simplicity and nature will suffice to make your work attractive. Add
nothing, and take nothing away. Relate all your sufferings, and bid
your pen record the faithful dictates of your memory. You will at
least find friends among that healthy class which loves the simple and
the true. Leave geology and geography alone, and be only yourself--a
young and courageous woman, cast into the midst of frightful dangers,
and miraculously saved. Many as are the readers and writers of
travels, few women have visited China, and none, save yourself, have
such a tale of adventure to relate. Write, then, and fear nothing."
It was thus, Madame, that you persuaded me, and it is thus that I have
obeyed you. I have lived, while writing, amid the scenes and
sufferings of the past. I have once again experienced all the terrors
of captivity--once again been tossed by tempests, blinded by
incendiary flames, and threatened with uplifted sabres. Inasmuch as
these things have moved me by the mere remembrance, so I trust they
may interest others in the mere recital. They will at least bear the
impress of emotion and truth.
I place myself, Madame, under your patronage, and beg that you will
accept this expression of my respect and affection.
FANNY LOVIOT.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Departure from Havre--Regrets--A Barrier of Rocks--Rio
Janeiro--Departure from Rio--Six Weeks at Sea--Cape Horn--
Storms--Death of a Sailor--Catching a Shark--Land! Land!--
The Gold Country _page_ 1
CHAPTER II.
The Bay of San Francisco--Deserted Ships--The Mission--
Dolores--Manners of the Chinese Emigrants--The Black
Race--The Loungers of Jackson Street--Gaming Houses--The
Black Band--The Committee of Vigilance--On Hanging _page_ 13
CHAPTER III.
Sacramento--Fort Sutter--Nomadic Indians--Marysville--
Shasta City--Adventure with a Bear--Weaverville--The
Miners--The Rocky Mountains--Eureka--Return to San
Francisco _page_ 25
CHAPTER IV.
Fire--Departure for China--The "Arcturus"--An Invalid on
Board--Chinese Sorcerers--Death--The Chinese Seas--A
Watery Journey--Arrival at Hong-Kong--Visit to the
Consul--Journey to Canton--Chinese Insurrection _page_ 42
CHAPTER V.
Captain Rooney--Than-Sing--A Storm--The Typhoon--Fall of
the Mizen-mast--Effects of the Tempest--Disasters of the
"Caldera"--Chinese Pirates--Scene between Decks--A Crew in
Fetters--Examination--I am threatened with Death--Plunder _page_ 55
CHAPTER VI.
Unlading--The Good Chinese--A Ray of Hope--A Second
Flotilla--Disguise--Hunger--The Father of a Family--
Proposed Escape--Refusal of the Crew--Rage of Captain
Rooney--Hopes and Disappointments _page_ 72
CHAPTER VII.
Efforts at Escape--Attempted Flight--Return to the
"Caldera"--Capture--Cruelties of the Pirates--Portrait of
a Pirate Chief--Chinese Prayer--Death of a Pirate--
Seizure of a Merchant Junk--Fresh Plunder--Fortune of
the Vanquished _page_ 88
CHAPTER VIII.
Despair--I write the Date of my Captivity--Benevolence of
the Pirates--A Happy Meal--A Steamer in Sight--Flight of
the Pirates--Gratitude--Hurrah! Hurrah! I am Saved! _page_ 107
CHAPTER IX.
Captain Rooney's Story--Expedition along the Coast--The
Pirate's Mother--Death of a Chinese--The "Lady Mary
Wood"--Return to Hong-Kong--Protection of the
Consul--Visit of Than-Sing--Good-bye to Captain Rooney _page_ 122
CHAPTER X.
Departure from China--The "Malta"--Singapore--Penang--The
Island of Ceylon--The "Bentinck"--Aden--In the Red Sea--
The Isthmus of Suez--Cairo--The Nile--The Pyramids--
Boulac--Alexandria--The "Valetta"--Malta--
Marseilles--End of a Journey Round the World _page_ 136
CORROBORATIVE EXTRACTS FROM THE FRENCH PRESS, 141
A LADY'S CAPTIVITY AMONG CHINESE PIRATES.
CHAPTER I.
Departure from Havre--Regrets--A Barrier of Rocks--Rio
Janeiro--Departure from Rio--Six Weeks at Sea--Cape
Horn--Storms--Death of a Sailor--Catching a Shark--Land!
Land!--The Gold Country.
In the year 1852, on a fine spring morning, I arrived in Havre with my
eldest sister, who was going, on commercial matters, to California. We
spent several days in Havre; and on the 30th of May, being Whitsunday,
we embarked on board the little French schooner called the
"Independence," the captain whereof engaged to touch at Rio for food
and water. Besides the captain, the master, and the crew, our vessel
carried eighteen passengers, all of whom were going to seek their
fortunes in California. The weather was superb, and our captain took
advantage of a favourable breeze to set sail. The quay was crowded
with spectators, and it was not without some dismay that we overheard
their observations on the size of our schooner. "Never," said they,
"can such a boat double Cape Horn. The least puff of wind must swamp a
nutshell like that!" It is easy to conceive the impression which
opinions such as these were calculated to produce on two inexperienced
_Parisiennes_, who, like my sister and myself, were travelling for the
first time. We looked hesitatingly in each others faces; but it was
too late. The time for hesitation was gone by.
In another moment we heard the captain cry, "Let go the moorings!" All
was now over and the great sacrifice was accomplished. Farewell, dear
friends--Farewell, France--Farewell, Paris, which is a fatherland
within a fatherland!--Farewell, all that is comfortable--Farewell,
fashion, amusement, peaceful sleep, home comforts--Farewell, in fact,
to all that makes life pleasant! For five months, at the least, I must
sleep in a hammock instead of a bed; the sky must be my ceiling, and
the sea my floor. My only music will be the sound of the breaking
waves, and the untaught songs of the sailors. We are going to seek our
fortunes--to seek, but what to find? Leaning sorrowfully over the side
of the vessel, my heart full of a thousand hopes and regrets, I waved
my handkerchief in token of farewell to the friends I left behind me.
First the jetty receded; then Ingouville, with its amphitheatre of
houses; Ste. Addresse, which owes its celebrity to Alphonse Karr;
then Cape la Heve; and then there remained only the sky and the ocean.
We spent seven days in the Channel--seven days of rain and fog, with a
leaden sky above, and the angry waves below. I was very ill during
this part of the voyage. Not till the Sunday, which was the seventh
day after our departure, had I strength to venture upon deck. The
beacon off the Lizard Point was just visible, and I stood there
watching it, till the light finally disappeared.
The passage of the Bay of Biscay was accomplished, not without danger
to our fragile bark. At length, after fifteen days on the sea, we came
within the influence of a Brazilian climate. I was never weary of
admiring those clear skies and glorious sunsets the beauty of which no
art could adequately reproduce.
We were rapidly approaching Janeiro, when we were one day startled by
a sound like the rolling of distant thunder. The sea was calm; there
was not a cloud overhead, and no other ship in sight. The deck was
crowded in an instant. The noise grew louder, and we gazed tremblingly
in each others faces. The mate, who was on the look out, cried
"Breakers ahead!" "Helm about!" replied the captain. The order came
just in time. Happily for us, our little schooner escaped with only a
scratch.
Brief as this incident had been, the women were all either fainting
or shrieking. As for me, I was petrified. I had not really understood
the imminence of the danger; but I always looked upon the captain's
face as a kind of sea-barometer, and, on this occasion, the barometer
fell considerably. My poor sister was overwhelmed with terror. "Cheer
up," said I. "You have been longing for an adventure ever since we
started, and here is a promising commencement!"
Eight days after this we were in the roads of Rio Janeiro, and came in
sight of the Sugar-loaf Mountain, which towers above the bay. I can
hardly believe that there exists under heaven a more exquisite scene.
It is ineffaceably engraved on my memory. I can still see those wooded
hills, those solitary creeks, those delicious valleys, those trees
which never know an autumn tint, that immense expanse of sea, and all
that marvellous landscape, which, even as one looks upon it, seems
more of a dream than a reality.
The entrance to the port is defended by several forts, amongst which
are those of Santa Cruz, Villagagnon, and the Isle of Serpents. These
two last, which are the most imposing, are built upon islands lying
within the bay. At Rio Janeiro we rejoiced to resume the manners and
habits of Europe.
Rio is, as every one knows, a purely commercial city. The harbour, the
exchange, and the markets are crowded with merchants and sailors. The
variety of costumes, the songs of the negro porters, the chiming of
church bells, the diversity of languages and faces, German, French,
and Italian, all contribute to give a strange and lively aspect to the
city.
During the fifteen days which we passed at Rio Janeiro, we visited all
that was worth seeing in the city and its environs. The mountains,
towards the north-east, are much built over. It is there that the
Jesuit college, the Benedictine convent, the episcopal palace, and the
Fort of Conceiado are situated. The architecture of these buildings
appeared to me both heavy and ungraceful; but I much admired the
aqueduct (finished in 1840), which brings the water from the torrents
of Corcavado down to the city fountains. The imperial palace of St.
Christopher is built at some distance from Rio, and is approached by a
portico and a double colonnade. The promenade in front is planted with
mangoes and laurels. There, like a true _Parisienne_, I did not fail
closely to observe the _toilettes_ of the Brazilian belles. Although
these ladies profess themselves the devoted followers of our French
fashions, they still indulge the Portuguese taste for ornament. The
amount of jewels worn by each would be sufficient to stock a
shop-window; and they chiefly love to dazzle from a distance. On the
whole, they are pretty; though perhaps a little too pale and sallow.
With strangers they are familiar, perhaps even somewhat coquettish,
and their nonchalance is particularly amusing. Lounging nearly all day
on sofas covered with matting, they disdain mere household matters. As
to their education, they never receive any; and their conversation is
of the most uninteresting description. Their favourite topics are
their slaves and their servants. It is no unusual sight to see these
indolent women rouse themselves from their habitual lethargy, to run
long needles into the arms or bosoms of the negresses who wait upon
them. The society of Rio Janeiro is divided into _coteries_. The young
Emperor of Brazil patronizes art, science, and letters; his people
occupy themselves only with trade and money-getting. Indeed it is not
long since a Parisian bookseller, of whom I enquired respecting the
literature most in favour at Rio, replied that the books which sold
best in the Brazils were those with red bindings! As to the commerce
of Rio, it has increased of late to an enormous degree. Sugars,
coffees, cottons, rum, tobacco, and other articles of native produce,
are exported every year to the value of several millions of piastres.
I can never forget the delight with which I visited the environs of
Rio, or the delicious excursion that we made to the neighbourhood of
Tijuca. It took us two days to get there; but we halted for the night
at a plantation, where we were received with the utmost hospitality.
Starting by daybreak the next morning, we proceeded through a
labyrinth of delightful paths, and soon found ourselves face to face
with the famous cascade, which is here precipitated into the midst of
an amphitheatre of rocks. In the presence of this spectacle I must
confess, in justice to myself, that I began to be somewhat consoled
for the absence of Paris, and the Boulevard des Italiens. Often, O
shade of Louis XIV.! as I had seen the great fountains at Versailles,
I now found them surpassed. Less agreeable, I admit, was the knowledge
that these vast solitudes were peopled with jaguars and other
ferocious beasts. After all, I prefer to admire wild animals in the
Jardin des Plantes.
Having laid in fresh provisions, the captain took advantage of the
fine weather, and we left Rio Janeiro. My sister and I had also
stocked ourselves with good things; amongst the rest, with a large
quantity of delicious little oranges, fine-skinned, perfumed, and
sweet, which are sold in Rio for a mere song.
On the 7th of July we set sail once more for California. Seeing our
little schooner depart on so long a voyage, the Brazilians proved
themselves quite as discouraging as our evil prophets of Havre. "The
'Independence,'" said they, "can never weather the tempests off Cape
Horn!" My sister implored me not to continue our voyage; but,
although I partook of all her fears, I remained inflexible.
Independently of my desire to make a fortune, I felt myself impelled
to go farther and farther away, and court the very dangers that I
feared. I was proud of having crossed the line, and could not have
borne to pause when half-way on the road. I had not much confidence in
our schooner; but, had we chosen to go on by another vessel, we must
have paid our fare twice over, and we had already spent as much as was
consistent with our means.
Behold us, then, once more at sea, and, this time, for two or three
months at the least. We talked, it is true, of touching at Lima, but
on this head there was nothing certain. Our living was detestable; and
despite the expostulations, and even the blows, with which our _chef_
was stimulated, he never seemed to improve. My belief is, that he
cooked entirely by chance. Wearied to death were we of potted meats,
cabbage-soup, and half-boiled cod. These details are not poetical, but
the facts are painfully true. On board the steamers (which put
frequently into port, and carry cattle on board) the bill of fare is
generally excellent; but in small merchant-vessels, such as the
"Independence," the food is but too often scanty and unwholesome.
For a whole week we had the finest weather imaginable. There were
five women on board; and we sewed, embroidered, and played at _loto_,
as cosily as in our own homes. Every evening we all assembled upon
deck. There we talked and sang, and the singing, it is true, was not
always very good; but at sea one's audience is not critical. Besides,
it was pleasant to listen to French airs and choruses; and, when far
away, all that recalls one's fatherland is welcome. By the way, I have
forgotten to observe that our crew was entirely French.
And now the weather began to grow colder, and the sea, become more
boisterous, no longer rocked us like a kindly nurse, but flung us
rudely to and fro. Our embroidery, our _loto_, our singing came
abruptly to an end, and we found ourselves subjected to all the
miseries of a maritime journey. Every face was pinched, yellow, and
discontented, and only groans and complaints were heard on every side.
We were not absolutely in any kind of danger; but we were the victims
of sickness and _ennui_. Thus several long weeks went by, and, day by
day, the cold grew more severe. At length we came in sight of Cape
Horn, clad in ice. Involuntarily, I thought of all the evil prophecies
which had accompanied us since we started; but, to my great surprise,
the nearer we approached the Cape, the more tranquil grew the sea. A
dead calm ensued. For forty-eight hours we never stirred a foot. At
length, towards the evening of the second day, the weather changed,
the sea became agitated, and this time we found ourselves indeed
menaced with one of those sudden storms which are peculiar to these
latitudes. The captain instantly took in every sail. At this moment a
young sailor was carried off the yards by a sudden squall, and was not
missed until it was too late to save him. I can still hear the voice
of the captain calling, and counting his sailors--"Jacques, Pierre,
Andre, Remy, Christian, Robert, where are you?" "Here, sir!" "And
Jean-Marie? Jean-Marie?" But Jean-Marie replied not. He had
disappeared for ever, and of our eight sailors we had lost one. Poor
Jean-Marie had been our ship's carpenter. It was his first voyage, and
he was to have been married on his return. That night, all on board
were sleepless. "They were right," thought I. "This Cape Horn is
indeed a deadly and a dangerous spot!" The moaning sea and the sighing
wind furnished a dreary accompaniment to these sombre thoughts. For
twelve days we remained tossing to and fro without making any
appreciable progress. On the thirteenth, we doubled the Cape. Soon
after this, we sailed into a warmer latitude, and crossed the line for
the second time.
And now the provisions became more and more scanty, wherefore we all
complained bitterly of the shipowner. Eight or ten days more must,
perforce, elapse before we could arrive at San Francisco; and, should
we be delayed by contrary winds, it was just probable that we might
die of hunger on the way. I began now to regret my own obstinacy, and
wished that I had yielded to my sister's entreaties. While we were yet
in this dilemma, our sailors caught a shark. It was so big, that, even
after it was harpooned and hoisted on board, I dared not venture near
it. Armed with their knives, our men speedily despatched it. It then
was delivered over, piece by piece, into the hands of our abominable
cook, who seasoned it with different sauces, and, horrible to relate,
served it up for three successive days! We had, however, endured so
many privations that every one pronounced it to be delicious, and only
the captain and two sailors refused to eat it. Even they refused not
from disgust, but superstition, believing that one day or other they
might chance to be eaten in return.
If there be a delight unknown to those whose careless lives glide by
in lettered leisure; if there be a joy untried by those Sybarites of
great cities who seek to exhaust the pleasures of this world without
risk or fatigue, it is that immense and ineffable rapture which
overflows one's heart at the close of a long sea-voyage. Not till one
has spent six months of life between the sea and the sky, the
plaything of tempests, and subject to all the dangers of shipwreck and
fire, is it possible to comprehend the intoxication of feeling with
which one hears the sailor up aloft pronounce that magic word--"Land!
land!" Everybody rushes on deck--the women burst into tears, for thus
they translate every emotion of joy or sorrow--and the men, eager and
triumphant, congratulate each other upon the distance and the dangers
which are over at last. At sight of San Francisco, our passengers
forgot all the sufferings of the journey, and began dreaming once
again of the good fortune which awaited them. My sister and I followed
the general example, and, for us, the present wore all the pleasant
colours of the future. Poor France! thou wert soon forgotten, and we
already opened our arms to this inhospitable land where gold is the
only true God.