FURTHER ADVENTURES OF CHANG
The tale of a tub--Sayonara--Board-ship acquaintance--Queer company.
[Illustration: YUM-YUM AND DODO.] There is one more reminiscence of that
happy summer I must recall; I recollect it very nearly ended
disastrously for my hero.
We started one morning at sunrise, a party of four foreigners, twelve
coolies, a guide, and one wildly-excited yellow dog, to the little
island of M----, where there is a curious old monastery inhabited by
Buddhist monks. After a steep descent of nearly two hours, we reached
the valley, and drove off gaily, three coolies to each rickshaw, two
pulling tandem in front and one pushing behind.
Our road lay close along the coast: on one side the blue waters of the
Inland Sea, with the waves rippling upon the yellow sand; on the other,
the green rice-fields, with the women hard at work at their monotonous
labour, looking, nevertheless, very picturesque in their short blue
linen kimonos and white handkerchiefs tied over their black hair. A
peculiarity we noticed in this locality was that the female portion of
the population seemed to do all the work. Women, mares, and cows are be
seen everywhere as beasts of burden, whereas the masculine element
appears to enjoy comparative leisure.
This is by the way, however.
After a three hours’ ride, at the rate of about five and a half to six
miles an hour, during which time the sun had risen and become very
powerful, whilst we felt the change from the invigorating mountain air
we had come from, we at last arrived at a small and exceedingly dirty
tea-house. The first stuff they brought us we could not drink. It was
only daikon, our guide assured us; wholesome possibly, but very nasty.
After partaking of some honourable tea and being supplied with ‘waragi’
(straw sandals) and long sticks, as the road was bad, we left our
jinrickshaws and coolies to wait our return, and started off on foot.
The island is only accessible at low tide, so we waited patiently on the
beach for an hour, and watched the innumerable little ‘sampans,’ with
their curious square sails, plying their way through the surf.
As soon as the tide was sufficiently low, we were carried across to the
island on the backs of some funny brown-skinned fishermen--an experience
more exciting than comfortable.
[Illustration: THE MONASTERY IN THE ROCK.]
Then up the narrow street, with quaint little shops on either side,
where we spent all our ‘sens’ buying curious shell ornaments, dried
sea-horses and endless rubbish; and where I distinguished myself by
purchasing what I fondly imagined to be the red, painted shell of a
small crab. On putting it, for safety, in the crown of my hat, I
discovered, to my horror, the brute was still alive and capable of using
its claws!
Then a steep climb up the rocks, at every turn getting the most glorious
peeps of the sea down below, until we arrived, hot and breathless, at
the monastery. There we found two smiling monks, ‘all shaven and shorn,’
standing at the door waiting to receive us, who begged us ‘to be kind
enough to favour their wretched dwelling by reposing our honourable
forms on a mat.’ In a weak moment, I suggested a bath, always a great
institution in Japan on every possible occasion, and our guide,
translating my request to the monks, was informed that one should be
prepared immediately for the ‘ojo-sama’ (honourable young lady) at
whatever temperature she required.
In the meantime, we decided to climb to the topmost rock and inspect the
view. On our return, I was told that my bath was ready, and, with many
smiles and the lowest of bows, I was conducted by two of the monks to a
large open quadrangle, in the centre of which was a big wooden tub,
about four feet high, out of which clouds of steam were issuing. Groups
of monks stood about the quadrangle. The advent of visitors was a great
event in their monotonous lives and the idea that I might not appreciate
their presence had not occurred to them for a moment.
What on earth was I to do?
I explained as well as I could, to our guide, that foreign ladies were
not accustomed to take their baths in public, and at length, after an
animated conversation, of which I did not understand a word, to my great
relief, I saw that terrible and still steaming tub being slowly but
surely removed from its place of honour.
What a strange ‘tiffin’ those kind monks gave us, and what a merry party
we were sitting on the floor, round a little table one foot high and
trying to eat with chopsticks! How our hosts laughed at our awkwardness.
I think Chang got most of those queer-looking little dishes. I can
remember the menu now.
First we had raw fish, with soy and pickled turnip; then seaweed soup
and young rushes; prawns, bamboo-shoots, and lotus-root; rice, in bowls,
which we found absolutely maddening to eat with chopsticks; hot saké,
tea, and pipes. I believe there were also some unwholesome-looking
little biscuits and arsenic-coloured bean-cakes. Without these
delicacies no Japanese banquet is complete.
Then, after an hour’s rest, off we started again to the caves down by
the sea. How clear the water was! We could distinctly see the beds of
coral far, far down below. A shoal of sardines flitted hither and
thither like a long line of silver. A school of porpoises were splashing
about at a little distance; and we fancied we saw the black fin of a
shark rising out of the water not very far off.
As we sat there watching the waves dashing up over the rocks, two
strange, brown, naked beings suddenly appeared from one of the caves and
offered to dive for some live lobsters, if we would give them a few sen.
Down they plunged, and so long were they gone that we began to think,
they really must be demons from the sea, and not men at all. Suddenly, a
dripping creature stood before us, with surely a lobster in its mouth,
which it put down on the rocks with a grin of triumph. Then, what must
Chang do but examine this strange-looking sea-trophy, with the result
that we heard a yell of pain and saw him dancing madly about with a
black lobster firmly fastened to his nose! Before we could come to his
help over he fell, backwards, into the sea below, and was borne rapidly
away by the swift current. The two brown demons plunged in after him,
and with some difficulty he was restored to land, gasping and stunned,
but safe.
Full of gratitude, I presented the rescuers with a yen (Japanese
dollar), which they received with many bows, rubbing their knees with
their claw-like fingers and hissing through their teeth in the most
polite Japanese manner. We noticed, however, they seemed much
entertained about something as they scrambled off to their caves,
chattering and laughing.
What could have so amused them?
After some hesitation, our guide confessed that they were saying that
the ‘ojo-san’ must be a silly fool to have given so much for saving a
dog, when, on a previous occasion, having rescued a child at the same
spot, the grateful parents had presented them with only ten sen (2½d.)!
* * * * *
I have not forgotten how Chang was once the means of saving my life. How
well I remember that night in January! The snow lay thick on the ground
and there was every appearance of a continued hard frost as I looked out
of my bedroom window on the moonlit scene below.
Chang had been very restless all the evening, jumping up and giving an
impatient bark from time to time, as if something were disturbing him. I
had induced him, however, to lie down on the mat in my room, where he
always slept, and jumping into bed myself, I was soon fast asleep.
It was about midnight, when I was suddenly awakened by something pulling
at my bed-clothes and heard a low whine at my side. Wondering what could
be the matter, I sprang out of bed, and had just hastily slipped on my
dressing-gown and slippers, when there was a loud roar like thunder,
followed immediately by a terrific crash, and the whole house seemed to
be falling. In less time than it takes me to tell you, I was out of my
room, flying as fast as my feet would carry me down the stairs, which
were rocking so violently I could hardly stand. On I rushed, out through
the veranda into the garden, until I found myself--how I know
not--clinging desperately to the branches of the twisted pine-tree.
The earth was still trembling, though much less violently, but I
expected at any moment another, and possibly a stronger, shock to follow
and the ground to open and swallow me up. However, all gradually became
still, and I was able to look around me and realize what had happened.
What a strange scene it was!
The black crows, which had been much disturbed by my sudden intrusion to
their roosting-place, cawed harshly as they flapped down from the
branches above me, brushing heavily against me with their great black
wings in their flight. The ground all around was covered with its pure
mantle of snow, white and peaceful, as if no terrific force of nature
lay below, ready at any moment to blot it out for ever.
The moon, shining through the fleecy clouds, looked down calm and cold.
The cries of children, the barking of many dogs, the twittering of birds
awakened from their slumbers, were heard on all sides, whilst, as I
climbed down from my perch, I discovered it was decidedly cold, and that
a tree is not the most agreeable place in which to spend a winter’s
night.
On approaching the house, which I found, almost to my surprise, to be
still standing, I was greeted with many anxious inquiries as to my
disappearance, and by loud barks of joy from my faithful Chang. Later on
I realized how much I owed to him, as, on going up to my room, I
discovered that a large piece of plaster from the ceiling had fallen on
my bed and, had I not been warned in time, I should most certainly have
been severely injured, if not killed.
Slight shocks continued at intervals, and I spent the remainder of the
night on the drawing-room sofa. The earthquake had evidently unhinged
Dodo’s inquiring mind, as at each recurring tremor he rushed frantically
round and round in a circle, howling dismally, and would not be
pacified.
Chang, being more philosophic--like all Celestials--considered that his
duty lay in defending his mistress from that ‘terrible subterranean
fish, whose tail was the cause of so much disturbance’--Japanese
superstition--and lay down calmly at my feet; with one ear, however,
well on the alert, to be prepared for all emergencies.
The next morning we found the town was a scene of desolation, and had
the appearance of a bombarded city. There were cracks in the ground in
some places five feet wide, walls down, roofs off, chimneys shattered,
our dear little church destroyed, and, worse than all, the reported loss
of many lives, though, happily, of no Europeans.
An earthquake evidently takes people differently. Several persons I
heard of afterwards, mad with fear, had jumped from the upper windows of
their houses, and were more or less seriously injured. One lady I knew,
had retired under her bed, whilst her husband, in the act of running
from the house, suddenly remembered he had left behind him, not his
wife, but his favourite cigar-case, which he promptly returned for and
rescued! One of the servants took refuge on the roof, another in the
arms of her more-valiant half in violent hysterics. Others flew wildly
hither and thither, whilst a few had sufficient presence of mind to
station themselves in the doorways.
Buildings and furniture have also the strangest vagaries on these
occasions. A solidly-built house close by us was literally in ruins,
whereas ours sustained little or no injury. I remember finding a heavy
clock on the ground, which had fallen off the mantelpiece, and was still
ticking away merrily, while, in some cases, every possible ornament that
could get smashed did so with a thoroughness that defied mending.
‘But,’ as the French say, ‘one must suffer to be beautiful,’ and had it
not been for those terrible volcanic eruptions, and those awful
earthquake convulsions, where would be that wonderful, that mystical
‘Fuji-yama’ the Sacred Mountain--those picturesque valleys and
hills--those fantastically-shaped rocks and mountain ranges, which add
such a charm and beauty to the islands of Japan?
* * * * *
Oh, what good times we had that summer in the little wooden house in the
midst of the forest of fir-trees far away in the mountains of Japan!
What gallops over the hills in the early mornings, with the dew still on
the grass and the larks singing overhead!
[Illustration: MYSTICAL ‘FUJI-YAMA.’]
Sometimes Chang would escort us--though without permission, I grieve to
say--on our riding expeditions. When we had gone two or three miles
along the plain, after leaving strict injunctions that he was to be shut
up until our return, a little speck would be seen in the distance,
rapidly developing into a panting, disobedient, yellow dog. Even then, I
fear, he did not get the punishment he deserved. Who could be severe for
long, with the delicious mountain air fanning our cheeks, the blue sky
above, and, on either side of the narrow path, a dazzling confusion of
the most lovely wild-flowers--from the tall white and orange lilies,
waving their stately heads in the summer breeze, down to the little
Japanese mountain edelweiss, which seemed to flourish equally well under
the hot Eastern sun as does its sister in the West amongst the Alpine
snows?
But I really believe the chief reason of the wily one’s appearance was
due to the thoughts of that delectable and oily sardine-box, of which he
was so fond, and the tit-bits and scraps, which tasted so much better
out in the open than at home.
Sometimes, too, after dinner, we would start off to pay an evening call
on one of our friends staying in the village, each carrying a little
paper lantern to light the way. Here and there, in the opening between
the dark fir-trees, we could distinctly see the outline of ‘Asamayama,’
the great volcano, rising up like a black pyramid against the star-lit
sky, a crimson cloud concealing the summit, and an occasional flame
shooting up, as if to remind one of the fires down below. The path
through the forest was so narrow we were obliged to go in single file,
our ‘four-runner,’ as we called Chang, trotting along in front to guide
us.
One evening, as we were warily picking our way over the stepping-stones
across the stream at the edge of the forest--a somewhat difficult matter
in the darkness--Chang suddenly stopped short, uttered a low growl, and
we distinctly heard the rustle of something in the long grass close by.
Peering down with our lanterns, we saw the outline of a large snake, and
heard the reptile hiss viciously as it disappeared into the brushwood.
In spite of many assurances that these large snakes in Japan were
perfectly harmless, and only the little flat-headed ‘mamushi’ deadly, I
always chose to consider that, but for Chang’s timely warning, one of us
would certainly have been poisoned.
Alas! those happy days in Japan are over now. All things must come to an
end, and we, too, at last, had to say good-bye to fair Japonica, with
its flowers, its sunshine, its dear, kindly, merry little people, and
sail away westward. I look back and see it all again: the quaint little
streets; the children flying their kites, with their small brothers and
sisters firmly secured on their backs; the never-ceasing murmur of
‘Houdah-huydah,’ as the patient coolies slowly drag their heavy burdens
up the hills; and all the countless sights and sounds only to be seen in
that delightful land.
Even the earthquakes, the typhoons, and the terrible floods seem to lose
half their terrors viewed across that mighty expanse of ever-rolling
ocean that separates us now from all things Japanese.
[Illustration: THE LOTUS FLOWER OF JAPAN.]
Sometimes, at night, as I lie awake in my Norfolk home and listen to the
murmur of the surf breaking against the cliffs far below, I fancy I can
hear the whispered Sayonaras, borne on the waves from my friends far
away; and as the wind sighs round the house like a soul in trouble, I am
reminded of those charming lines from ‘The Light of Asia’:
‘Ye are the voices of the wandering wind,
Who seek for rest, and rest can never find,’
and I wonder if perchance in their restless journeyings they will bear
back my answering message: ‘Sayonara! Farewell, farewell!’
* * * * *
But I am moralizing. This will never do. I must not forget our journey
to Assam, nor the disaster that befell us at Hong Kong. Up to there all
went well. At Kobé we were fêted and made much of by the kind friend who
rescued Chang from drowning in the gold-fish pond. No dog could have
behaved better. His meekness and propriety were such that I inwardly
marvelled at the change, and our hospitable host and hostess were almost
in tears at his departure. ‘Such a sweet, gentle creature, and so good!’
I knew better; but ‘sufficient for the day.’
At Nagasaki we had only a few hours on shore, but, wishing to give Chang
exercise, I took him for a walk along the Bund, and we wandered about
the quaint streets of that most picturesque town immortalized by Pierre
Loti.
There, in spite of many temptations--such as tailless cats and mangy
curs, that looked only made to be annihilated--my hero returned to
the steamship _Hohenzollern_, having resisted all except a
villainous-looking coolie’s legs and a half-blind mongrel
puppy--they hardly count.
Our next port was Hong Kong, where we changed steamers and spent a
couple of days in that charming Blue Bungalow away up on the hill. What
a lovely spot it was, with its trailing creepers and tropical
vegetation, though terribly hot in summer, I believe. There, too, Chang
was admired and made much of by all, except the five Siamese cats, who
were banished to the kitchen regions, much to their disgust. It was a
necessary removal, though, and the one and only meeting between him and
those strange-looking, mouse-coloured, blue-eyed quadrupeds was rather
disastrous to the drawing-room furniture; but one must draw the line
somewhere, and he evidently considered--at a Siamese cat.
The morning of our departure on board the North German Lloyd’s steamship
_Kaiser_ was one of those days in a Hong Kong spring when the air seems
full of the scent of delicious flowers. The twining bougainvillea was a
blaze of brilliant crimson in the morning sunlight; the waxen flowers of
the stephanotis and gardenia glistened like snow against their
dark-green foliage; masses of delicate tropical ferns grew all around in
rich profusion; gorgeous butterflies flittered hither and thither across
our path.
A delicate gossamer mist hung over the harbour, converting those great
iron monsters of civilization into phantom ships, as we were rowed
across the water to our steamer, bound for Colombo.
Oh, what was it induced Chang, the now virtuous and reformed dog, to
bolt down the gangway and on to the quay just as we were about to sail
from Hong Kong? Heedless of all else but that my well-beloved was
leaving me, I tore after him, on and on along the quay, into the hot and
steaming town. What cared I for the frantic shouts from my father on
board, or the wild excitement of John Chinaman, who, seeing the mad
chase, added yet to the general confusion by his hideous yells?
At last I captured the runaway, and, breathless and spent, we sank
together in a heap on the muddy road. A few minutes later, an exhausted
and disreputable pair were to be seen wending their way back to the
quay, the deserter firmly secured by a chain.
I wonder if that wicked dog had any self-reproach for my feelings when,
on arriving at the docks, I saw to my horror the _Kaiser_ had departed
with all my worldly possessions on board, including money; and was
slowly, but surely, steaming out of the harbour.
What was to be done?
In the distance I saw my friends rushing up and down the deck,
gesticulating wildly. I could even hear a faint shout from the captain,
but what good was that?
I was just considering whether to jump in and swim--such was my state of
mind at the moment--or to accept the inevitable, and throw myself on the
mercy of some kind friend in Hong Kong until the next steamer, a
fortnight later, when, suddenly, I heard a shout from one of the
steamers close by, and to my joy, perceived the kind, jolly face of the
captain of the _Hohenzollern_. He shouted to me to wait until he could
fetch me in his steam-launch, luckily near at hand, and a few minutes
later the captain and I, with Chang securely fastened up in the bows,
were steaming along merrily towards the great mail steamer; I fear,
laughing heartily over the adventure.
When, however, the _Kaiser_ stopped, and let down a ladder to take the
two runaways on board, I own to a certain feeling of dread as to what
punishment might be in store for us.
Luckily the captain was merciful and, in fact, treated the affair as a
good joke, which was far more than we deserved, as it is considered
rather a serious matter to stop a steamer carrying mails, if even for
only a short time. We had to stand a good deal of chaff during the
voyage home, but somehow I don’t think either of us minded much.
The funniest part of it all was that Florence, my friend from the Blue
Bungalow, who had come on board to see us off, in the excitement of the
moment was nearly carried off in my place, and had to be lifted over the
side of the ship, and into a boat below, as the steam-launch, with all
the other people on board returning to Hong Kong, had already left some
minutes.
The time that elapsed between our sensational ‘send off’ and our arrival
at Colombo was a little over three weeks.
At first Chang was regarded rather as a pet lamb among the children and
babies--there were seventy-five little olive-branches on board. Then an
officious and quarrelsome German made a request to the captain--who,
poor man, always tried to please everybody--that dogs on the promenade
deck were dangerous to the community at large; so my poor, harmless
chow, and also a minute canine specimen--a Chinese sleeve-dog I believe
it was called--were banished to the charge of the butcher and steerage
passengers, in spite of many tears on the part of the sleeve-dog’s owner
and remonstrances from myself.
Sometimes, however, before the ‘disagreeable man,’ as he was called,
appeared in the morning, we would bribe the jolly old quarter-master to
bring Chang up on deck.
‘Zo,’ he would say, ‘vat dee kinders dee hund vant for to play vith?
Ferry vell, I vill him up bringen for a leetle.’ And then what romps he
used to have with his little playmates, chasing each other round the
deck, when the sailors would stop in their never-ending work of
polishing to watch the fun.
How well I remember that strange little being, half child, half demon,
who used to fondle and caress Chang so much! What a pretty pair they
made, sitting side by side, their heads close together, her red-brown
curls mingling with his thick yellow coat, and her little brown arms
thrown round his neck.
What was it, I wonder, made him start away with a yelp of pain, and look
reproachfully at her from under the refuge of my chair, safe from her
wicked little fingers?
I think the ‘fiend,’ as we called her, was quite the most beautiful
child I had ever seen; she was about eight years old, and was being sent
to England, under the charge of the captain, to be educated.
Her father was an Englishman and her mother a Cingalese, which accounted
for the curious combination of olive skin, red-brown hair and deep blue
eyes with their long lashes. She was marvellously graceful, too. Her
movements often reminded me of a young tiger. Her moods were various.
Sometimes, if the spirit moved her, she would organize strange games of
her own invention, in which the children--who were all completely under
her influence--would be commanded to join. Woe betide any child who
dared to disobey her instructions. ‘Fiend’ would stamp her foot, her
eyes would flash, and the unfortunate little offender would retire
howling to its indignant ayah. In vain were the complaints of fond
parents to the captain. Such a spell did the strange, beautiful child
cast over the other children, that neither threats nor entreaties could
keep them away when the next wild game was organized. Even I fell under
her strange fascination, although, I regret to say, I, too, had to pay
the penalty.
I think, in her half-savage way, she was fond of me; and I had for that
reason more influence with her than had most people on board.
But one morning, as I was sitting in my deckchair with Chang at my side
enjoying the sweet, sleepy existence of a morning in the tropics, I
suddenly felt a little hand stroking my hair and a soft cheek rubbing
against my arm. Knowing well what those cat-like caresses meant, and
that I was probably about to be asked some favour, I continued reading
until a sharp pain in my shoulder caused me to jump to my feet, and
there I saw my tormentor, a truly wicked expression on her lovely face,
poised on the glass roof of the saloon well out of my reach, and
indignant Chang, evidently knowing from experience what had happened,
vainly trying to reach the bare legs of the culprit. She had calmly
bitten my shoulder through my thin cotton blouse, and it was some time
before the marks of her sharp little teeth disappeared.
For the rest of the day I completely ignored her existence. I think my
plan was effective.
That evening I came upon a solitary little figure in the stern of the
ship leaning against the rails, her hands clasped, her eyes gazing far
away at the still crimson sunset.
‘Oh God,’ I heard her say, ‘I know I am very wicked, but somehow I can’t
help it! _Please_ wash me with that stuff you always use to make bad
people good, for I am sorry, _really_!’
Poor child! There was much that was good in her nature, but she needed a
strong, yet loving and patient, hand to guide her. I fear her life may
be a hard one. What a change from the wild, unfettered existence in the
East, where she ruled the natives on her father’s estate with a rod of
iron, and rode bare-backed where her fancy chose over the hills, to the
stiff, conventional life, however advanced and modified, of an English
boarding-school!
Soon after the incident just mentioned poor Chang was seen on deck by
the ‘disagreeable man,’ who for some reason best known to himself had
risen earlier than usual that morning. Furious at having his commands
disregarded, he strode up to the captain’s cabin, and, after abusing
everyone on board, from the skipper downwards, informed him that he
should lodge a complaint against the North German Lloyd Steamship
Company if that abominable Chinese cur was seen again on deck.
So from that day poor Chang was banished from civilized society; not but
what I consider--I speak reservedly--that his steerage companions were
infinitely the more entertaining.
What a strange collection they were! First, the Burmese--quiet, gentle,
brown-eyed creatures. They were on their way to the Indian Exhibition,
where I afterwards saw them selling cigars and going through their
various performances. At first they did not know me; but when I
mentioned a certain yellow dog named Chang they remembered at once, and
were much delighted at hearing of their old board-ship companion.
Then there was the Buddhist priest in his quaint garb, likewise on his
way to the Exhibition; some Cingalese rickshaw coolies--merry,
indolent-looking fellows, who seemed to take life very easily; also
several Chinamen, who sat all day long smoking their long pipes or
playing cards. I must not forget those most uncanny-looking
ourang-outangs, too, which, as the weather became colder, were dressed
up in some cast-off sailors’ clothes, and looked more horribly human
than ever; nor that dear little white bear, which was always curled up
fast asleep--and such heaps of small, chattering monkeys; fowls, birds
of all descriptions--a true ‘happy family.’
I would often go down to pay Chang a visit and find him the centre of an
admiring group, looking rather melancholy, but patiently submitting to
the unconscious teasing of those pretty little Burmese children who so
adored him.
Sometimes he would be ‘down below’ in the butcher’s quarters in company
with a Siamese cat. ‘Friends in affliction’ they certainly had become,
sitting close together, puss purring away contentedly, and rubbing her
brown head against her companion’s yellow coat as if they had been chums
all their lives, and the Siamese cat’s mistress and I would watch them
both unperceived, and wonder at the sight.