IN THE ROCKIES
First sight of the Rockies--Stay at Banff--Indians and salmon--Arrival
at Vancouver--The _Empress of India_--Chinese passengers--The
missing day--A court-martial--First sight of Japan.
After leaving the prairies the scenery became more hilly and the country
wooded and fertile. The maples had just turned, and their gorgeous
colouring of crimson and gold made the landscape appear like a gigantic
flower-garden. Ill as I felt, the beauty of the scene so fascinated me
that hours passed like minutes. Gradually the distant blue mountains
grew nearer and more distinct, and, almost without knowing it, we found
ourselves in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, four thousand feet above
the sea-level.
At sunset a mist rolled across the valley, and above towered the great
Cathedral Rock, thirteen thousand feet high, tinged a lovely rose-colour
which gradually faded into soft pink and gray; then all was left in
shadow, with the young moon shedding her pale light upon the dark,
rugged outline of rock. It was a scene never to be forgotten.
We spent three pleasant days at Banff. Oh, the joy of a quiet night’s
rest, a hot bath, and being clean again! I soon felt much better, though
still stiff and shaken. The hotel was very comfortable, built like a
huge Swiss chalet of pine-wood, with a big veranda, and beautifully
situated, overlooking lake, forest, and river, and surrounded by high
peaks in the distance. The hot, iron, and sulphur springs are a great
feature of the place, and I much enjoyed the warm, open-air bath, formed
out of the rocks, where I had a delightful swim each morning. The air at
Banff is most invigorating--so clear and pure. We spent a good deal of
our time on the Vermilion Lake, paddling about in a Canadian canoe, and
exploring the many little creeks, some only a few feet wide. Trout are
very abundant in the lake, and my father was fortunate in catching one
weighing nearly thirty-five pounds, much to the envy and admiration of
the other people at the hotel.
After leaving Banff we travelled in the observation-car of the train as
far as Field, a little village five thousand feet up in the mountains,
where we stopped to dine. It was intensely cold, and snow was already on
the ground. The train after Field makes the most extraordinary turns and
twists, and is called the loop-line. In some places both ends of the
train were visible from the car. The skeleton iron bridges, hung from
rock to rock, shook as we passed over them, and I felt dizzy as I looked
down at the yawning chasms far below.
After leaving the Rockies we passed into the Selkirk Range, and crossed
and recrossed the great Frazer River, with its high rocks and great
boulders. The river is full of salmon, and in a clear pool we saw at
least forty or fifty big fish basking. The Indians catch them in great
quantities, and we passed several little encampments where queer-looking
strings of red stuff were hanging from long sticks, which we were told
was the salmon.
[Illustration: IN THE HEART OF THE ROCKIES.]
Here and there were little wigwams by the river-bank, with Indians and
their papooses, forming picturesque groups, some wading in the creeks,
or busy at work hanging up the salmon to dry in the sun.
The scenery as we neared Vancouver became less wild. Mount Baker, over
fifteen thousand feet high, rose up solitary and grand, its snow-capped
summit standing out like a white pyramid against the deep blue of the
sky. We were fortunate in seeing it in all its beauty, as it is
generally hidden in clouds.
Vancouver is a clean, well-built town at the mouth of the Frazer River.
The harbour there is large enough for men-of-war to anchor in, and there
we found our steamer, the _Empress of India_, awaiting us--a fine boat
of 6,000 tons, painted white and built on the lines of a large yacht. We
spent Sunday, the day after our arrival, in visiting the park near
Vancouver, where the famous big trees are to be seen--cedars, firs, and
spruce; one, perhaps the largest in the world, measures sixty feet
round, and a carriage and pair of horses can go inside the trunk, which
is hollow. The forest is almost tropical with its luxuriant vegetation
and beautiful ferns. Wild animals are to be found there, such as deer,
panthers, and a kind of lion, but the latter are rarely seen now near
the town.
The voyage between Vancouver and Yokohama takes fourteen days. I was
glad to find on board a very nice-looking set of passengers, mostly
English. The first day or two we took each other’s measure cautiously,
and limited the conversation to a few polite nothings, but before the
end of the voyage many of us were firm friends.
There were about a hundred first-class passengers, and three hundred
miserable-looking Chinese in the steerage. Many of them looked
wretchedly ill, and we saw a number of long black boxes in the hold,
which we heard afterwards were coffins. It seems that the one desire of
a Chinaman is to be buried in his native land, otherwise he believes
that his soul will go into some low animal instead of to Paradise. Just
before sailing at midnight, I noticed a long line of Chinese passing up
the gangway to the steamer. Before being admitted, they were carefully
examined by the ship’s doctor. Many poor wretches were turned back,
discovered to be suffering from some fatal chest disease very prevalent
amongst the Chinese. As it was, I believe, there were several deaths on
board, in which case the steamship company was bound under contract to
convey the Chinese passenger, alive or dead, to his destination.
Our stewards on board were all Chinamen, and most quick and willing.
They had all very long pigtails tied with black silk at the ends, and
little black caps with red tassels on their heads. When waiting at table
they wore butcher-blue garments down to their heels, white cuffs; and
their funny little feet were encased in white shoes with black rosettes.
They had sad, old-looking faces, but were really quite cheerful, and
talked incessantly in their queer pigeon-English. I longed to send one
home as a present to our old Rector, who always described our Norfolk
servants as ‘the curse of the age.’
An amusement committee was soon organized on board, and by the end of
the first week we were all busily engaged in Bridge, Chess, Halma, and
other tournaments--cricket matches, athletic sports, and one or two
dances when the weather was sufficiently calm. The Pacific Ocean rather
belies its name, as typhoons and severe storms prevail at times, and we
met one battered-looking sailing-ship, which reported very rough weather
off the Japanese coast. However, we were most fortunate during the whole
voyage in having nothing worse than a stiff breeze on one or two
occasions, although that was quite sufficient to send many of the
passengers, including myself, to their berths; but my fears of being
‘battened down’ were never realized.
In consequence of continually travelling westward, when we reached the
meridian of 180° from Greenwich, we were told that a day would be
dropped to equalize matters. Consequently, after going to bed one Sunday
night, we woke up to find it was Tuesday morning, and our missing day
was never recovered until, on our voyage home to England, we sailed
eastward. As there was much variety of opinion as to the reason of the
missing day, one of the passengers offered a prize for the best poem
describing _why_ we must lose a day, _where_ it goes to, and _what_ is
done with it. About twenty of the passengers sent in verses, which were
read aloud by the Captain in the saloon and voted for. The prize was won
by an American missionary. Not that his was by any means the best poem,
but the entire missionary party--there was a large gathering of them on
board--all arranged beforehand to vote for their dear brother, a rather
unfair proceeding.
During the voyage a stupid practical joke was played, of which I was one
of the chief victims. An Australian lady and her daughter sent out
invitations to a tea-party in honour of the daughter’s birthday. About a
dozen of us were invited, including the Captain and my father and me. A
sumptuous spread was prepared--cakes, sweets of all kinds, and a
delicious-looking soufflé, which our hostess particularly begged us to
try. I innocently put a spoonful into my mouth, when I discovered to my
disgust it was made of nothing but beaten-up soap--the most horrible
concoction imaginable. Two or three other people at the table followed
suit, and our feelings can be better imagined than described. It took,
indeed, some time before I recovered from the effects.
Nemesis, however, awaited the originators of this unpleasant trick. A
trial by jury was decided upon. Judge, counsel, and jury were got
together, and large notices were placed about the ship saying that a
most cold-blooded attempt at wholesale murder by poison had been
attempted, but fortunately, with no fatal results; that the police had
every reason to believe that jealousy was at the bottom of it, and so
on.
After this, the Australian lady and her daughter found life on board
ship not altogether so delightful as they had expected, but began to
realize that it is sometimes unwise to play practical jokes. The trial
took place two evenings later in the saloon, which was arranged as much
as possible like a court-room. The judge, an English Colonel, arrayed in
a long scarlet cloak and a wig, sat at a table. The prisoners were
placed in chairs on another table, guarded by a policeman. The counsel
for the plaintiffs and the defendants had wigs made by the ship’s
barber, a man of resource, who painted us up to represent our various
characters, making the three victims who had swallowed the soap appear
ghastly with white chalk. The jury was composed of seven ladies. There
were also six witnesses, an usher, and a clerk of the courts.
The counsel on both sides spoke well. The defence was that soap was
harmless and good to eat, and a witness was called who was really a soap
manufacturer at Shanghai. After the jury had retired for some minutes,
they returned with the verdict ‘Guilty,’ at which the two prisoners
turned pale and dissolved into tears. The judge, looking very stern,
after a short speech on the iniquity of practical jokes, sentenced the
prisoners to be taken on their arrival at Yokohama to be tattooed on
their wrists with the words ‘Pears’ Soap.’ Needless to say, this threat
was not carried into effect; but I think the offenders were already
sufficiently punished. Early the following morning my father called me
to see the first glimpse of Japan--a faint outline of blue hills against
the horizon, which gradually became more and more distinct until by
mid-day we anchored in Japan waters, and our long, pleasant voyage was
at an end.
* * * * *
On landing at Yokohama, we took rickshaws to the Grand Hotel, a large
English building on the Bund facing the harbour. Never shall I forget my
first ride in the quaint little carriage resembling a small buggy, only
instead of having a horse in the shafts, there was a funny little brown
grinning man, dressed in a blue cotton garment, barefooted, with a large
white hat like a mushroom on his head, on which was printed his name and
number. He started off at a steady trot and, after the first feeling of
insecurity had passed, I thoroughly enjoyed the motion and was quite
sorry when we, with our luggage, which had followed us in a long line of
rickshaws, were deposited at the steps of the hotel.
I was much amused the morning after my arrival before I was dressed to
receive visits from three Chinese tailors. They marched calmly into my
room at various times, without waiting for me to answer their knock,
bringing patterns and begging me to patronize them. The last had hardly
departed when another visitor appeared, in the shape of a dealer in
curios. He proceeded to strew my room with brocades, embroideries and
every conceivable knick-knack. I was unable to resist a quaint little
Japanese clock, a small bronze Buddha, and an embroidered silk kimono,
for which treasures I afterwards found I had paid about three times
their value, though I fondly imagined I had made excellent bargains.
There was a charming view from the veranda of my room. The harbour was
gay with Japanese sanpans,[A] little sailing-boats,--here and there a
man-of-war and a couple of mail-steamers. Late that afternoon I saw the
_Empress of India_ steaming slowly out of the harbour, bound for
Hongkong. It seemed rather like saying good-bye to an old friend, and I
felt a little homesick as I watched my last link with the old world
disappear into the dim distance.
-----
Footnote A:
Japanese boats.
-----