GENERAL DIRECTIONS, WITH ROUTES, DISTANCES, ETC., FOR A JOURNEY ROUND
THE WORLD.
If stout old Sir Francis Drake, the first navigator to sail around the
globe, could appear on earth to-day, he would be quite justifiable in
standing transfixed with astonishment. The announcement that he could
encircle our sphere in less than eighty days would be too much for his
equanimity, when he reflected that the voyage in the _Elizabeth_,
from Plymouth back to Plymouth again, consumed nearly two years, and
compelled him to cross the Equator no less than four times. The
performance of the modern steamship would be likely to bewilder him,
and he could scarcely comprehend the transit of the American Continent
in a single week. From New York to Omaha, without change of cars or
clothes, would be beyond his understanding, and from Omaha to San
Francisco in a Pullman car would appear to his old-fashioned mind like
the work of the magician. There is good reason to believe he would not
be thankful that he had been awakened from his sleep of three
centuries. To the question, "What would Admiral Drake say if he were
alive now?" the historic Irishman might respond, "He would say he's
glad he's dead!"
From the two years required for the circumnavigation of the globe in
the time of Sir Francis, the progress down to our day was not very
rapid. For two hundred years after that eventful voyage of the
_Elizabeth_, there was little if any reduction in the time for a
similar cruise, though there was a material diminution in the profits
to be derived from semi-piratical adventures along the route. The
brave old Admiral made his enterprise remunerative in a high degree,
both to his government and himself; the courts are said to be troubled
at the present day about the rightful ownership of some dozens of
millions which belonged originally to the estate of Sir Francis Drake,
and have increased through the operations of time and the tables of
simple and compound interest.
There was a glorious uncertainty about the voyages of Sir Francis
Drake and Captain Cook that exists no longer. It was a problem if ever
those navigators should return; and, in the case of Captain Cook, the
solution was not to the satisfaction of that enterprising explorer and
his friends. But, setting aside the ordinary uncertainty of human
affairs, a voyage of circumnavigation to-day is no more problematic
than a trip from New York to Chicago. A man may start for a journey
around the world, and fix almost to a day the date of his return. On
the third day of July, 1877, the writer sailed from San Francisco for
Japan, China, India, and other Eastern countries, intending to return
by way of Europe. A friend was at the dock to see him off, and, as
they shook hands in farewell, the latter said:
"I am going to Paris next spring; when will you meet me there?"
The outward-bound voyager thought a moment, and then said: "I'll meet
you in Paris on the 15th of April."
And so they separated, one to go west, and the other, a few months
later, to go east.
On the evening of the 14th of April the first-mentioned tourist landed
at Marseilles, and the next day he was at Paris; his friend, who had
been notified by telegraph, was at the station to meet him, and the
meeting, as we see, was exactly on the day appointed. A traveler can
arrange his time with absolute certainty, if he will take the trouble
to study the tables of the steamship and railway lines, and determine
the period of his detention in each city and country along his route.
And this is precisely what was done in the instance above mentioned.
A man in New York thinks nothing of making a business appointment for
a week from to-day; he is going to Chicago in the meantime, but will
be back on the date he names. It is just as feasible for him to say,
"It is now the 13th of June; I must go to Hong Kong for a little
business which will keep me a couple of days, and the movements of the
steamers are such that I shall lose a day and a half waiting there
when my business is ended. If you will call at my office at noon on
the 24th of August, we will go to lunch and talk this matter over; I
really haven't time to attend to it to-day. I may possibly have to go
to Calcutta; if so, I'll telegraph you, and we'll make the appointment
hold over till the 18th of September, as I shall arrive by the steamer
of the 17th. Good-day; I leave by this evening's train."
Year by year the travel around the world increases, and doubtless it
will continue to increase as people become familiar with the
requirements of time and money for the journey.
A ticket around the world can be bought at a price varying from one
thousand to twelve hundred dollars, according to the line of steamers
chosen for certain parts of the route, and whether one passes through
India or adheres to the steamer from Singapore to Suez. The time
required is from three months upward, according to the abilities of
the traveler to spare it, and the amount of money at his disposal. The
old adage, that time is money, is nowhere more applicable than on the
journey around the world. You can't have a good time unless you have
the money to pay for it, and you can't have a good time with your
money unless you have time enough to spend it properly.
"How much does it cost to go around the world?" is as difficult to
answer as "How much does a horse cost?" One man will get along with a
quarter of what another will consider absolutely necessary, and can
live luxuriously on what will starve another. Tastes and ways differ
in travel as in anything else, and an exact rule cannot be set for
everybody. A youth who has not learned by practical experience the
value of a dollar, who indulges in ways of living more or less
riotous, and, above all, who occasionally whiles the weary hours at
the seductive game of poker with chance travelers, will require a
liberal allowance to enable him to make the circuit of the world in
what he would call "style." This allowance might be anywhere from five
or six thousand dollars upward, and would probably leave occasional
souvenirs in the shape of unpaid bills, which are altogether too
numerous at present for the reputation of our countrymen. But to the
man of unwasteful habits, who knows the worth of his money, and
quietly makes up his mind to have it, who uses his eyes and his
brains, finds what is proper to pay in each instance, and then pays
it, the journey can be made in ten months, at an expenditure of about
four thousand dollars. Ten months will allow for sufficient stoppages
along the route, and the sum mentioned will enable him to travel
first-class on all ships, and stop at first-class hotels--if the
majority of the caravansaries in the East can be called first-class.
Generally the only features about them that warrant that name are
their bills. The traveler can also purchase a fair allowance of
inexpensive "curios," as souvenirs of his tour, without going beyond
the last-named figures.
If ladies are of the party the expenses will be a trifle more than
where it consists entirely of the sterner sex. Ladies need have no
hesitation in attempting the tour of the world; they might even go
unaccompanied by gentlemen, but it is not advisable for them to do so.
Hotels are to be found everywhere on the great routes of travel, and
even on some of the by-ways there is passable accommodation. In the
tropics where the heat is so great as to compel passengers to sleep on
deck when going from one port to another, one side of the deck is
reserved for ladies and the other is allotted to the men.
It is not advisable for a traveler to buy his ticket at once for the
entire journey, but to take it in sections as he goes along. From New
York, or any other American city, to Yokohama is enough for the first
section; beyond Yokohama the routes divide, and your movements depend
upon circumstances which generally are not easy to foresee. Therefore,
when you have determined to buy a ticket around the world, buy it as
you go along, and not all in a lump.
The best way of going around the world from America is by going
westward. The seasons can be taken more easily in their natural course
in this way than by going eastward, and each country on the route can
be seen in the best time for seeing it. The monsoons can be taken in a
favoring direction, and the typhoons, those scourges of the Eastern
waters, can be avoided. From May to July is the best time for leaving
San Francisco--not earlier than the first of May, and not later than
the first week of July. This will give the summer months in Japan, the
autumn for China and Siam--if the latter country is included--and the
winter for Java, the Straits, Ceylon, and India. By the end of
February one should leave India, spend a fortnight or three weeks in
Egypt, and then go on to Europe. He can land in Naples late in March
or early in April, and then go north with the season till he reaches
that Mecca of the wanderer--Paris. Thence, if he does not possess the
ingenuity to find his way home, he has traveled to very little
purpose; whether he will be anxious to find his way home from Paris at
an early date depends largely upon circumstances--and upon Paris.
It is advisable for the intending traveler to have his finances so
arranged that he will run no risk of being stranded penniless in some
Eastern port, and compelled to wait till a remittance reaches him. A
letter of credit for the whole amount needed on the journey is the
best thing to have; but if this is not attainable, he should carry a
credit for at least half the amount, and arrange for remittances in
sterling drafts on London to meet him at points previously designated.
These should be forwarded in duplicate in registered letters, and by
different mails, so that a loss of one will not be likely to mean the
loss of both. And in order to take these registered letters from the
post-office, and for other purposes of identification, every traveler
should carry a passport.
In taking out a letter of credit, be sure and have it from a house
that has correspondents in the principal cities and the open ports of
the East. The same precaution should be observed relative to drafts
that may be forwarded to meet the traveler at any of the points he is
to touch; and he should not conclude that because he is personally
cognizant of the high standing of a banking-house, it will be all
right wherever he goes. A draft made by a well-known house in New
York, on the Barings of London, reached the writer in Singapore; when
he proceeded to turn it into cash he was surprised to find that nobody
in Singapore had ever heard of the makers of the draft, and if he had
been without introductions, and had had no letter of credit in
reserve, he would have been in a very awkward predicament. Too much
precaution cannot be observed about one's means of obtaining money in
the far East; and to be stranded on the other side of the world
without cash is very inconvenient.
We will suppose you have equipped yourself with the necessary letter
of credit; the next thing is to have a suitable frame of mind for the
journey, and the next a light and properly garnished trunk. The frame
of mind is an important consideration. If you are a morose,
ill-tempered brute, determined to see nothing good in any country but
your own, you had better stay at home; and if a friend has arranged to
travel with you, it would be an act of kindness to advise him to drop
you and go with some one else, or alone.
Arrange your time-table as nearly as possible before starting, and
then tell your friends where letters will reach you. Have them sent to
the principal post-offices--Yokohama, Hong Kong, Singapore, Calcutta,
Bombay, etc.--according to the dates you expect to be in those cities,
and when you are about leaving those places you can instruct the
post-master as to your subsequent address. If you do so your mail
matter will be forwarded, and with proper care you will be pretty
certain to get all your letters. Do not have newspapers sent after
you, as they are not very likely to turn up on account of the
accumulating postage.
As to baggage, you don't want a large amount to start with. A couple
of ordinary suits of clothing, and a dress-suit for dinners, will be
the basis; remember that the dress-suit is indispensable, as its
absence will sometimes deprive you of the pleasure of attending an
interesting ceremonial, and that a gentlemen in the East, as well as
in Europe, is expected to wear an evening garb when invited to dinner.
A light overcoat should be taken, and a heavy one for rough work; the
latter should be of coarse but strong material, and will often come
handy at sea when storms are blowing, and on land when the owner is
compelled to camp out or travel through severe weather. A rug or shawl
may be taken, if one has a fancy for it, but it is not at all
necessary, as the stout overcoat supplies its place, and serves the
additional purposes of an overcoat. Take the same underclothing that
you would take for a six weeks' trip anywhere in the States; when your
stock is exhausted you can buy a fresh supply in any of the ports or
inland cities of the East, particularly the former. Clothing of all
kinds is as cheap in Hong Kong, Shanghai, Yokohama, Singapore,
Calcutta, Bombay, or the other great ports, as in New York, and in
some of the cities I have mentioned it is cheaper. It would be well to
have your shirt-maker get you up a dozen shirts of a kind specially
adapted to the journey, and if you are inclined to be a "swell," you
might take two or three dozen. Have them made of the strongest muslin
you can find; pay no attention to fineness, but a great deal to
strength. The front, or "bosom," may be as fine as you please, but I
wouldn't be too particular about it; as to the rest, the nearer you
can come to sail-cloth or sheet-iron the better.
The laundress in the far East is invariably a man, and, to judge by
the way he knocks your clothing to pieces, he must be the strongest
man in the community. He is native and to the manner born, and his
manner is not at all pleasing. In Yokohama, and other Japanese cities,
he is, of course, a Jap; in China, he is the "wanchee-washee" man,
with whom San Francisco and New York are familiar; in Java, he is a
Malay, and in India he is a Bengalee. No matter which one you have
first, you will think he is worse than any of the others can possibly
be, and when you try the others you will find that your first love was
the mildest of them all. The Bengalee is the worst of the lot for
destructiveness, but he is only an infinitesimal distance ahead of the
Chinese.
The Eastern way of washing is to pound the garments with a club, when
clubs are handy, but as they are generally out of the way, and
firewood is dear, the artist contents himself with laying your shirts
and other things on a stone, and pounding them with another stone; and
the rougher these two geological products are, the better for his
purpose.
Three or four washings will generally make an end of handkerchiefs;
shirts and other garments may survive a sixth or eighth journey to the
lavatory, but the tenth or twelfth will usually send them to the
rag-bag. Therefore I advise that all underlinen should be of the
strongest material, and fineness a secondary consideration.
When you reach Yokohama you will probably want to buy some clothing
suitable for the warm climate of the East. A _sola topee_, or
sun-hat, is the first requisite; it is made of pith, has a white cover
which can go to the wash every few days, and an internal arrangement
so that the wearer's head is constantly cooled by the air which
circulates around it. Then you will want some suits of white linen,
about ten of them, which will cost you from five to six dollars a
suit; a couple of suits of blue serge, at ten or twelve dollars each.
These, with your ordinary clothing, will be sufficient for your wants,
if you exercise proper care in keeping close at the heels of the
washman; you will generally find that your washing will be promptly
done, but it is always best to have an extra provision laid up for a
rainy day. In the East everybody carries a goodly amount of baggage,
and as there is always a plentiful supply of porters, and the
allowance of the steamship companies is liberal, you need not mind the
addition of a trunk or two.
Well, we are off from New York; we are not in a frightful hurry, and
are determined to see as much as we can for our time and money.
The transcontinental trains between New York and San-Francisco are a
daily affair each way, and the regular time of running through is
seven days. The price of a ticket varies according to the harmony, or
the lack of it, between the Eastern roads; $140 may be taken as a fair
average for the through ticket, with an addition of $25 or $30 for
sleeping-coaches and meals.
From San Francisco, the departures are semi-monthly for Japan and
China; the steamers of the Pacific Mail and Occidental and Oriental
Companies perform the service alternately, so that each line sends a
ship every month. They were formerly in opposition, but are now
working harmoniously; a passage-certificate bought of the one is good
on the ships of the other, and there is nothing to choose between
them, so far as the comfort of the voyage is concerned. The running
time to Yokohama is about twenty days, and no matter what the ship or
which the company that the traveler patronizes, he is pretty certain
to be pleased with his fare and treatment. A ticket from San Francisco
to Yokohama costs $250, and if bought in New York it entitles the
passenger to an allowance of two hundred and fifty pounds of baggage
overland, instead of the ordinary allowance of one hundred pounds.
After the "globe-trotter," as the tourist is called in the East, has
done with Yokohama, Tokio, and the eastern part of the empire, he can
take a steamer any Wednesday afternoon for Hiogo, which is the port of
Osaka and Kioto. This is a voyage of a day and a half; and when the
western part of the empire has been seen, another steamer may be taken
to Shanghai, passing through the famous inland Sea of Japan, and
halting at Simoneseki and Nagasaki. The line is weekly each way, and
is known as the Mitsu Bishi (Three Diamonds); it is a Japanese
organization, sustained by a government subsidy in the shape of a mail
contract, and its ships are mostly of American build. Old travelers on
the line between New York and San Francisco by the Isthmus route will
find an acquaintance in the steamer _New York_, transformed to the
"_Tokio Maru_," and the _Oregonian_ to the "_Nagoya Maru_"; the
_Golden Age_ is the "_Maru_" something or other, and so are several of
the former vessels of the Pacific Mail Company. A ticket from Yokohama
to Shanghai costs $45, and it makes no difference whether you buy it
through or in sections. There are chance steamers at frequent and
irregular intervals, that carry passengers at a reduced rate, but they
are less comfortable than the Mitsu Bishi Company's boats, and more
uncertain. The crews of the Mitsu Bishi steamers are Japanese, the
waiters in the cabin are Chinese, and the captains, officers,
engineers, and stewards, are Americans, English, or some other
Caucasian nationality. When the equipage of one of these steamers is
drawn up for inspection, the affair is emphatically _une revue des
deux mondes_.
From Shanghai one can ascend the Yang-Tse as far as Hankow, a distance
of a trifle over six hundred miles, and there are boats of the China
Merchants' company every three or four days. The price of a ticket
varies; it was once $400 each way, but at the time of my visit to
Shanghai it had fallen to $18, in consequence of an opposition by an
English company. It was the intention, as soon as the opposition
ended, to raise it again to $50, where it probably now is. The
steamers are large and comfortable, and the table is excellent.
The China Merchants' Company has a weekly line to Tien-Tsin, whence
one may go overland to Pekin, a distance of ninety miles. There is
said to be a smooth way of the world and a rough one; where the smooth
one may be I will not attempt to say, but there is little doubt that
the rough one is the stretch of ninety miles between Tien-Tsin and
Pekin. About two thousand years ago the road was built, and it has
never been repaired since the contractors left it; it was made of
large and irregular boulders, badly laid down, with no attempt at
evenness, and has been a good deal damaged by old Tempus Edax Rerum in
the twenty centuries that he has been gnawing at it.
You can make the journey to Pekin on horseback, by cart, or by a
mule-litter, or you can go on foot. For a vigorous man, the saddle is
recommended; for a more luxurious one, the mule-litter; for a brave
and small one, the cart; and a man who has a touch of the walking
mania can try pedestrianism. The mule-litter is a box like a covered
chair, slung on a couple of poles; these poles are long enough, and
just far enough apart, to serve as shafts for two mules--one in front
and the other in the rear--and are suspended over the saddles of the
beasts by stout straps. The pace is not unpleasant, and the movement
would soon become monotonous were it not that the suspensory apparatus
is constantly giving way, and letting the box to the ground with a
general shaking up as the result. Occasionally the mules run away,
indulge in kicking-matches, or otherwise disport themselves in ways
more or less exciting; so that the traveler is in no danger of
perishing with _ennui_.
The Chinese cart is a small box on a single pair of wheels; it is not
long enough for an average man to lie down in, and too low for him to
sit erect. The occupant is doubled up very much as if he were in a
wine-cask; the cart has no springs, but the body rests directly on the
axle, so that every jolt, however small, is felt by him. When all
these facts are considered, in connection with the character of the
road, it will be readily seen that a traveler who journeys from
Tien-Tsin to Pekin in a Chinese cart, feels, on arrival, very much as
though he had been passed through a patent clothes-wringer.
There is another route, via Tung-Chow. A Chinese boat is taken to the
latter point, which is twelve miles from the capital; the usual way is
to go to Pekin by the road, and return by Tung-Chow and the river. In
this way the current favors, and the descent can be made in a couple
of days, while the ascent takes four or five. Few travelers to Pekin
fail to visit the Great Wall, which is about a hundred miles northwest
of the city. Saddle-horses and mule-litters are the modes of
conveyance, and the most of the provisions which you expect to consume
on the journey must be taken along. The journey from Shanghai to Pekin
and back again will require about a month in time, and $400 in money,
including the visit to the Great Wall.
Brief allusion has been made to the steam lines in the far East on
another page. A more detailed account will be given here.
From Shanghai to Hong Kong there is a weekly service, which is
performed alternately by the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation
Company (English), and the Compagnie Messageries Maritimes (French).
These lines are usually called the "P. and O.," and the "French Mail,"
and it may be roundly stated that they run from England and France to
China and Japan. One week there comes the P. and O. boat, and the next
the French Mail, and so they go on alternately each way weekly, year
after year. The fares are about the same, but the French line includes
wine in the price of passage, which the English does not. As far as I
could observe, the French steamers are the most comfortable, their
table is better, and there is more civility on the part of the
officers. It is noticeable that the majority of the passengers on the
French steamers are English, and I have known Englishmen who were
intensely patriotic in other matters to delay their departure a week
to go on a French ship instead of an English one.
The itinerary of the P. and O. Line from Shanghai to Southampton
touches the following ports:--Hong Kong, Singapore, Penang, Pointe de
Galle, Aden, Suez, Port Said, Alexandria, Malta, and Gibraltar. There
are branch lines between Hong Kong and Yokohama, Singapore and
Batavia, (Java,) Pointe de Galle and Australia, Pointe de Galle and
Calcutta, Aden and Bombay, and Alexandria and Brindisi. The French
route is from Shanghai to Hong Kong, Saigon, Singapore, Pointe de
Galle, Colombo, Aden, Suez, Port Said, Naples, and Marseilles, with
branches between Hong Kong and Yokohama, Singapore and Batavia, Pointe
de Galle and Calcutta, Aden and the Mauritius. Both lines receive a
heavy subsidy from their respective governments in the form of mail
contracts, and they do a great deal to maintain English and French
prestige throughout the East. For several years the P. and O. had a
virtual monopoly of the business, and looked with disdain upon the
efforts of the French to enter the field. But not only did the French
Line establish itself, but other lines have sprung up, and manage to
flourish without the advantage to be gained from a contract for
carrying the mails. There is one known as the "Holt Line," which
performs a semimonthly service each way between England and China; and
there are numerous irregular steamers in addition, so that there is no
lack of communication between the Occident and the Orient.
The rates of fare in the East are decidedly high, when we compare them
with the price of passage over the Atlantic and on the seaboard lines
of the United States. From Yokohama or Shanghai, by the English line,
to Southampton, or to Marseilles by the French one, the fare is £105,
or $525 in round figures. The local fares are higher than this in
proportion. It is $63 from Shanghai to Hong Kong--a run of three days;
and $108 from Singapore to Pointe de Galle--a voyage of five days. To
Java, by the branch line from Singapore, a voyage of exactly
forty-eight hours, requires a disbursement of $46. You will save about
20 per cent. on your fare by purchasing a through ticket; but, as
already hinted, the saving is accompanied by a restriction of one's
movements that more than balances the advantage in the reduction.
At the agencies in the East they do not assign you to a room on the
steamer when you buy your ticket, but tell you that you will get it
from the steward when you go on board. They give as a reason for this
the impossibility of knowing what rooms are reserved, as the tickets
are generally bought before the ship arrives in port, and before there
is any communication between the purser and the agent. This excuse
will not hold good at the beginning point of the voyage, and so they
plumply tell you that it is not their custom to assign the rooms
except on board, and they can make no deviation from their rules.
Generally the ships are not crowded, and so the custom works well
enough; in case of a rush of passengers it also works admirably--for
the company. The agent can continue to sell tickets to all applicants
and assure them that there is abundance of room, although he knows
that he has sold twice or three times the capacity of the steamer. The
ship that performs the branch service for the French company between
Singapore and Batavia has accommodations in her cabin for sixteen
persons--eight rooms, with two berths in each room. The agent at
Singapore blandly assured the writer that there were very few
passengers engaged, and he would be certain to have a room to
himself--when all the time more than forty passengers were booked, and
the agent had the list in his possession. It may be impolite to say he
lied, but he certainly was not mathematically exact. When the steamer
sailed she had fifty-two passengers, and they were packed like negroes
on a slave-ship. Of course there was much grumbling, but the officers
of the steamer referred the matter to the agent--whose fault it was;
and the agent was safe on shore, and out of reach of the angry
travelers.
Two things are necessary to one's comfort in traveling on steamers in
the tropical East--_pajamas_, and a bamboo chair. A pajama suit
consists of a loose sack and drawers of the Chinese pattern, and
nearly every foreigner in the East adopts them, in place of the
night-shirt of civilization, for sleeping purposes. They may be of
muslin, silk, grass-cloth, or anything else that suits the wearer's
fancy--some prefer one thing and some another, and there is no way of
harmonizing tastes. Any Chinese tailor can make you a pajama suit at a
few hours' notice; and if you would be comfortable, you will order
half a dozen suits at least.
Around the hotels and on board ship it is perfectly _en règle_ to be
in pajamas between the hours of 9 P.M. and 8 A.M.; and on the steamer
it is interesting to observe how universally the passengers avail
themselves of the permission. Through the tropics, it is generally too
hot to sleep below; nearly everybody takes to the deck and makes it
his home by day and by night. The reclining chair comes in play here,
as it can serve as a bed for most persons, and at any rate it is a
capital lounge. It can be bought very cheaply in all the Eastern
ports, and no traveler's equipment is complete without it. And the man
who neglects to provide himself with pajamas in the first port he
reaches will have reason to regret his action. He might even do a more
unwise thing than purchase a supply before he leaves San Francisco,
provided the Chinese have not all gone thence before he reaches the
Pacific coast.
The hours for meals vary somewhat on the different lines, but may be
taken as resembling in general the hours on the transatlantic ships,
with the exception that they are fewer. As soon as you rise you can
have a preliminary coffee or tea, or you may have it before you rise,
if it so please you. Then from eight to ten you have breakfast, which
consists of omelets, meat of two or three kinds, and curry, the latter
being universal and perennial. Somewhere between noon and 1 P.M.
there is a cold lunch with fruit, and at 5 P.M. comes dinner. This is
not much unlike the steamship dinner of other parts of the world,
except that the curry comes up warm and smiling on every occasion, and
is eaten by nearly everybody. Few people like it when they first eat
it, and few people eat it half a dozen times without acquiring a taste
for it that is akin to love. It is conceded that curry is necessary to
keep the liver in a proper condition of activity, and the man who does
not eat it is very liable to find himself out of order internally in a
very short time. It is surprising that such a warm substance as curry
should be the proper thing in a hot climate; but the weight of
testimony is emphatically in its favor, and we should respect the
verdict of time and experience.
There is no pleasanter steamship life anywhere than in the East, so
far as the associations are concerned. The brainless idiots that add a
pang to existence on the transatlantic voyage are rarely seen so far
away from home as the coast of China; the majority of the people you
meet there are the possessors of at least a fair amount of
intelligence, and know how to use it. Among twenty passengers on a
steamer, you will find three or four globe-trotters, like yourself; as
many merchants; as many clerks and other employés of Eastern houses;
two or three men who have been or still are in the consular or
diplomatic service; a banker or two; two or three soldiers of fortune
who have been serving one of the Oriental governments in one way or
another; and the balance will be made up of nondescripts, who cannot
be classed in any regular list. If there are any of the gentler sex,
they will be the wives, widows, sisters, or daughters of men who have
been making a home in the East; and you will occasionally encounter
some of them who have made a dozen voyages back and forth, and know
every wave of the sea along the route. The great majority of the
passengers are sure to have had sufficient attrition against the world
to wear away their rough corners; you will find them social without
forwardness, and communicative without being garrulous.
If the traveler is limited in time and money, he will avoid the north
of China, and also the western part of Japan; he will proceed direct
from Yokohama to Hong Kong, and can take for this purpose a ship of
either of the transpacific lines or of the English or French mail
companies. The former are preferable, as the fare, when combined with
that from San Francisco, is lower, and the steamers are larger and
better than the English or French mail-packets. From Hong Kong one can
go daily to Canton (ninety miles) in about eight hours; and by no
means should a tourist omit seeing this most interesting of the cities
of China. From Hong Kong, when Canton has been finished, the regular
route leads to Singapore--the English steamers going direct, and the
French ones touching at Saigon. Those who wish to leave the regular
track may go to Siam by steamers that leave every week or ten days,
and, though of English build and ownership, are managed by a Chinese
agency, and carry their cargoes on Chinese account. They are nominally
freight-steamers, but have accommodations for a few passengers; and
the same is the case with the steamers that will take the tourist from
Bangkok to Singapore when his visit to Siam is concluded.
From Singapore you may make a detour to Java or Manila, but eventually
you will find your way back again, since all the routes of the East
lead by this point, as, anciently, all roads led to Rome. If you have
a month to spare when south of the equator, you may make a circular
trip on a Dutch steamer that goes to all the principal ports of Java
and the Spice Islands, and comes around in the end to her
starting-point. When back in Singapore, and ready to go on to the
westward, you have choice of two, or, rather, of three routes: you can
go by mail-steamer to Ceylon, and stop at Galle, whence you proceed by
land to Colombo, and Kandy; you can go to Calcutta direct; or you may
go to Calcutta by a steamer that halts at Malacca, Penang, and
Moulmein a day each, and two days at Rangoon. This indirect voyage
consumes seventeen days, but it is full of interest. The direct voyage
to Calcutta requires six days.
If you do India by way of Ceylon, you will finish the land of spicy
breezes, where only man is vile, and then cross from Colombo to
Tuticorin, whence you can go by rail to the uttermost parts of the
great Indian peninsula; or you may take, once a week, a ship of the
British India Steam Navigation Company, which makes the voyage to
Calcutta in fourteen days, touching at Madras and a dozen other ports.
As the ship is usually halted in the daytime and moving at night, this
mode of traveling is not at all unpleasant. From Calcutta the railway
will bear us to the north, and we can see Benares, Agra, Cawnpore,
Lucknow, Allahabad, Delhi, Jeypoor, and other cities, arriving
eventually at Bombay.
Six weeks will serve for seeing India, or, rather, that part of it in
the Bengal and Bombay presidencies, and very few who have done the
country will care to return.
The distance from Bombay to Calcutta, by the direct route, is 1,409
miles, and the fare (first-class) about $60. Benares and Allahabad are
the only cities of importance that lie on the direct line; the others
are reached by branches, and it will require another thousand miles of
travel to take them in.
We will suppose we have finished with India, and are ready to leave
Bombay for Egypt and Europe. The P. & O. Company sends a weekly
steamer, and its departure is fixed for Saturday during the prevalence
of the southwest monsoon, and for Monday when the monsoon is not
blowing. There is another weekly service, formed by the Hall Line and
the Anchor Line, making fortnightly departures alternately. There is
an Italian line and an Austrian line, each monthly, and there are
numerous irregular steamers, so that four departures a week may be
fairly counted upon. The fares vary considerably; the P. & O. charges
$250 to carry you to Suez, 3,000 miles: the Italian line will take
you there for $160; the Anchor and Hall lines for $155, and the
Austrian for $150. Patronage appears to be fairly divided among
the lines; those who have plenty of money, together with a great
many who have not, go by the P. & O. ships, while others who are
more matter-of-fact, and do not care to keep up appearances, select
the cheaper lines.
To irascible bachelors, the voyage from Bombay westward has a lively
terror. From February to May the steamers are crowded with children
and their nurses on their way to England, and, no matter what ship you
take, you cannot avoid them. Like the poor, they are always with you,
and cannot be shaken off; very often the number of juvenile passengers
equals that of the adults, and on occasions painfully frequent it is
greater. From rosy morn till dewy eve, and from eve till morn again,
they make things the reverse of monotonous, and a passionate lover of
infantile ways has all the entertainment he desires. Selfish and
irreverent travelers are apt to think affectionately of King Herod,
and wonder if his like will ever be seen again.
This migration of children is for the reason that they lose health,
and generally their lives, if kept in India beyond the age of four or
five years. The spring and early summer are considered the best time
for them to arrive in Europe, and consequently the traveler at this
season finds the steamers filled with them. They are mostly of the
spoiled class, accustomed to have their own way, to receive the
attentions of a multitude of servants, and to resent with anger the
least attempt to thwart them. The companies would doubtless find it to
their profit to send an occasional steamer at higher rates, from which
children should be excluded, just as our transatlantic lines advertise
ships carrying no steerage passengers, and charge more for places
thereon.
In Egypt, one can go directly through the canal, and thence to Europe,
or he may land at Suez, go by rail to Cairo (eight hours), and when he
has done with Cairo he may go in four hours to Alexandria, where he
will find three or four steamers a week for Brindisi, Naples,
Marseilles, and England, and steamers at least once a week for Syria,
Palestine, Asia Minor, Constantinople, the Black Sea, and also for
Greece and the Adriatic. He may take his time in Europe, and get home
the best way he can.
Following is a table of distances of a journey around the world,
without taking into account the numerous detours, which will vary
according to the tastes and means of each traveler, and the time he
has allotted to himself for his personal gratification, either in the
pursuit of pleasure, science and art, or commerce:--
_New York to San Francisco_, 3,450 miles; San Francisco to
Yokohama, 4,764; Yokohama to Hong Kong, 1,620; Hong Kong to
Singapore, 1,150; Singapore to Calcutta, 1,200; _Calcutta to
Bombay_, 1,409; Bombay to Aden, 1,664; Aden to Suez, 1,308; _Suez
to Alexandria_, 250; Alexandria to Marseilles, 1,300; _Marseilles
to Paris_, 536; _Paris to London_, 316; London to Liverpool, 205;
Liverpool to New York, 3,000. Total, 22,172 miles.
(Distances by rail are in italics; by sea in roman.)
Separating the above distance into land and sea travel, we have 6,166
miles of railway, and a trifle over 16,000 miles of water. Allowing
continuous progress at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour on land
and twelve miles on the water we could swing around the great circle
inside of sixty-seven days. And if we take the quickest journeys that
have been made over the different portions of the route--the special
trains that have passed across the Continent on two or three
occasions, and the extraordinary runs of steamers on the Atlantic,
Pacific, and Indian Oceans, and in the China and Mediterranean
Seas--add them together, and make no deductions for delays in port, we
can have a theoretical journey around the world in less than sixty
days. Phileas Fogg is left far in the rear, and Jules Verne must
resume his pen and make another trial, if he would really astonish us.
Give us the highest recorded speed upon railways and ocean steamers,
and apply it to the route in question, and we will put a girdle around
the earth in the half of eighty days, with several hours to spare.