After six weeks of conventional sight-seeing in Japan the
authoress and her friend decided that they had not yet seen
the real thing, and so they decided to spend a week off the
tourist track, living as far as possible the life of the
natives. This amusing little article shows how they fared
during their pilgrimage.
Gladys and I had been six weeks in Japan; we had worked hard at
sight-seeing, and done all that was expected of us during that time,
and yet we were not satisfied. Why? Well, we had luxuriated all the
while in the most charming European hotels; we had slept in cosy beds
with soft, springy mattresses; we had lounged in easy-chairs, eaten
with knives and forks, and had been waited on hand and foot by
noiseless Japanese "boys," who anticipated our every want. Within a
week of our departure for Australia the full extent of our slackness
was borne in upon us, and we at once decided to make up for lost
time and to sacrifice personal comfort in a final effort to "see"
Japan--the real Japan.
A trip down the Inland Sea was arranged, as affording a suitable
opportunity to carry out our resolves, and one bright spring morning
we set off from Kobe, armed with a basket of provisions and eating
utensils--to be used only in case of dire necessity!
We travelled all day in an up-to-date, conventional train, and arrived
at Onomichi towards evening. The proprietor of the principal inn had
been informed of our intended arrival, so he came in person to meet
us at the station, and we set off on foot for our new abode with an
escort of some twenty to thirty of the inhabitants.
The "hotel" was a two-storeyed, wooden house, like most of its
fellows. On reaching the threshold we discarded our shoes, took a
surreptitious peep at our stockings, in order to assure ourselves that
no holes were visible, and boldly entered.
[Illustration: THE VILLAGE STREET--THE YOUNGSTERS WERE VASTLY
INTERESTED IN THE NEW ARRIVALS.
_From a Photograph._
]
[Illustration: THE INTERIOR OF THE INN.
_From a Photograph._
]
A hearty--but unintelligible--welcome was extended to us by "madame"
and her surrounding bevy of profusely-bowing attendants, and we were
ushered into a room on the first floor which had been set aside for
our use.
Our apartment was divided from the adjoining one by sliding panels
which made no pretence at reaching the ceiling; it was entirely
destitute of furniture, but at one side was a tiny alcove where a
single vase reposed upon a raised dais, while hanging on the wall at
the back was an elaborate "kakimono." The floor was covered with fine
matting, and the inner walls were made of opaque white paper divided
into diminutive squares. Round the outside of the house ran a tiny
veranda, which was closed in at night with wooden panels.
Previously to starting Gladys and I had thoroughly primed ourselves as
to the correct behaviour in Japanese circles, and as we knew that
we should be expected to take a hot bath immediately on arrival we
inquired at once for the bathroom. Another reason for not wishing to
delay the important function of bathing sprang from our vague fear
that every member of the household would perform his ablutions in the
same water, and we were naturally anxious to have the first "look in."
After inspecting the bathroom our determination wavered,--but we
pulled ourselves together and descended to the lower regions
armed with towels and wrappers. Our first difficulty was with the
entrance-panel, which, in addition to having no locks or bolts,
absolutely refused to close properly. After several vain attempts the
gap was eventually stuffed up, and we entered the dressing-room. I
have yet to discover the intended use of the latter apartment, as for
all the privacy it provided one might just as well have undressed in
the public passage. About three yards square, and communicating with
the bathroom, it was furnished with two large windows looking on
to the hall, and there was not even so much as a pane of glass to
obstruct the view of the passers-by. Gladys and I spent a considerable
time in carefully filling these openings, and then, having satisfied
ourselves that we were beyond the public gaze at last, we began, very
diffidently, to undress, and afterwards entered the bathroom together,
as we simply dared not venture in alone.
The bath itself--which looked like a large box--was a wooden structure
built into a corner, and all round the inside ran a convenient ledge,
for sitting on. The water being little short of boiling, our movements
were decidedly cautious, and, curling ourselves up on the ledge, we
tried to grow accustomed to the temperature by degrees before plunging
right in. When, thinking to remove the traces of our journey by a
vigorous application of soap, we began to scrub ourselves, it suddenly
occurred to us that such a proceeding was not "etiquette," out
of consideration to the other bathers. So we stepped out, soaped
ourselves well, and rinsed our bodies with the wooden ladles supplied
for the purpose, before getting back into the water again.
[Illustration: A GLIMPSE OF THE SITTING-ROOM, WITH ITS
SPOTLESSLY-CLEAN FLOOR, SLIDING DOORWAYS, AND PAPER WALLS.
_From a Photograph._]
]
We were sitting on the ledge, chatting peacefully, when a sudden
premonition of danger made me look up, and the spectacle which greeted
my eyes caused me to utter one agonized gasp and then sink rapidly out
of sight. The pains we had taken to block up the gap at the entrance
had all been in vain, for the various garments which we had used for
the purpose lay scattered on the floor, and the opening was occupied
by a line of little heads, one above the other, whilst ten gleaming
eyes were interestedly fixed upon us! Having followed the direction of
my horrified gaze, Gladys gave a shriek of dismay and joined me at the
bottom of the bath with surprising celerity; and there we remained
in agony, feeling as though we were being boiled alive, and gazing
ruefully at our garments, which all lay well out of reach. Help came
at length in the shape of the proprietor, who, lighting upon the
little group of spectators, immediately sent them off about their
business. Feeble and helpless, we eventually emerged from our retreat
and retired behind our towels to dry; but our trials were not yet
over, for Gladys, leaning too heavily against the flimsy framework
which constituted the partition wall, suddenly disappeared from sight,
and the whole wall with her! Fortunately, the only occupant of the
passage at that moment was a little maid-servant, who speedily rushed
to her assistance, and the damage was soon repaired. Feeling much
shattered in mind, we at length departed from the scene of our
disasters and returned to our own apartment. With the help of two
merry little "nésans," who thoroughly enjoyed the proceedings, we
succeeded in donning kimonos and obis more or less after the correct
manner, and then, determined to carry out the programme quite
properly, we sat down on our heels to partake of our evening meal
before a table three inches high. We drank fish soup out of lacquer
bowls, we dissected unfamiliar concoctions with chopsticks (no easy
matter) and tried manfully to do our duty by them, but when a
large bowl of rice made its appearance we flung etiquette--and
chopsticks--to the winds and fell back upon spoons, as being the only
way of ensuring ourselves anything to eat. Also, when we were certain
of being unobserved (as certain as it is possible to be in a land of
paper walls and sliding panels), we hastily demolished huge chunks of
bread from our private provision store, as, though we did not wish
to hurt the feelings of the "chef," we felt that our inward cravings
_must_ have something substantial to satisfy them.
After dinner we ventured on a stroll through the town; but the fact
that we were repeatedly obliged to retrace our steps in order to pick
up our sandals--which showed an extraordinary facility for parting
company with our feet--considerably hindered our progress, and the
close companionship of many of the inhabitants, who were vastly
interested in us, prevented us from gaining a very good view of the
streets.
When we returned to our abode the little maids made us up beds on
the floor out of "futans" (thick quilts) which were pulled forth
from wonderfully hidden cupboards, and we retired to rest, thoroughly
wearied out by our first day of Japanese life.
The next morning we were awakened early by the arrival of green tea in
baby cups with no handles, and big, luscious peppermint creams. After
tasting both, and appreciating the latter, we rose to dress. Our
landlord had entertained European visitors before and considered that
he was thoroughly acquainted with their habits, as well as knowing how
to provide for their comfort; consequently, the pride of his heart
was a wash-stand--which was an object of wonderment to the whole
household--and that useful article of furniture was placed on the
outer veranda, in full view of the main street! It went to our hearts
to hurt the feelings of "mine host," but in this case we felt it to be
unavoidable, and the household treasure was removed to a more secluded
spot before we performed our ablutions.
Later in the morning we took steamer to Myajima, and sailed all day
down the beautiful Inland Sea. There were no seats on board, so we
made ourselves comfortable on a big coil of rope, and as there was
also no buffet we were obliged to picnic for our meals. We reached
Myajima at dusk and halted in mid-stream. A sampan came out to take us
on shore, and we were hauled down the side of the steamer by a piece
of rope, swaying feebly about in mid-air before being unceremoniously
seized by the feet and deposited in safety.
As we crashed on to the pebble beach a number of girls came round from
the hotel to meet us, each one carrying a paper lantern, which waved
fantastically to and fro from the end of a long pole. We were
escorted by them round the narrow, winding path to our quarters,
which consisted this time of a little summer-house away from the main
building of the hotel and in the midst of a delightful wood. We were
too tired to examine our surroundings that night, and tumbled as soon
as possible on to our lowly couches, where we slept "the sleep of the
just."
[Illustration: MORE INTERESTED VILLAGERS.
_From a Photograph._
]
On opening our eyes next morning our first thought was that we had
wandered into fairy-land; the smiling-faced "nésan" had arrived during
our slumbers and pulled back the outer wooden shutters, and as one of
the inner panels was ajar we could look straight out on to the woods.
The sun was shining brightly through the green of the trees, a spring
of clear water trickled musically down by the side of our hut, and
but a few hundred yards away lay the Inland Sea itself, looking like a
huge lake amidst the surrounding chain of misty, blue-grey mountains.
[Illustration: A VILLAGE FÊTE IN FULL SWING.
_From a Photograph._
]
Our tiny habitation, which consisted of two compartments and a small
veranda only, was scrupulously clean, and we could have eaten off the
floor, as well as sit on it, without the least misgiving.
Every morning we interviewed the landlord on the subject of our day's
menu, as, after the first evening, we decided that a strictly Japanese
diet would not be conducive to either strength or comfort. There was
not much variety in the food which we managed to obtain, but it
was both healthy and harmless, consisting chiefly of fried fish,
omelettes, and wild strawberries.
Myajima is a sacred island, and no means of conveyance are allowed
to profane its shores. The temple is built out into the sea, a unique
specimen of its kind, and a great, dark torü rises from the water
some yards in front; all along the main coast, and built at irregular
intervals, are the sacred stone lanterns, five hundred in number.
For three days we spent our time in wandering about the island,
swimming, lounging on our tiny veranda, and darning, European
stockings being scarcely equal to Japanese "tabi" in the matter of
endurance. The third evening being beautifully fine and calm, we
arranged--by paying a very modest sum--to have all the five hundred
lanterns lit up for our benefit, and rowed out in a sampan to see the
effect from the water. Nature seemed to be at her devotions, and such
a wonderful hush spread over all around that the scene was impressive
as well as beautiful.
On the fourth day it began to rain. A Japanese inn does not exactly
lend itself to either comfort or amusement in wet weather, our stock
of literature was limited, and by midday we were at our wits' end. And
still it rained.
Finally, in desperation, we invested in brilliantly-coloured oil-paper
Japanese umbrellas, and wandered about holding these huge structures
over our heads, so that only our feet--mounted on high, wet-weather
"geta"--were visible. Still it rained, and rained unceasingly. On the
evening of the fifth day--the deluge showing no signs of abatement--we
packed up our baggage and sorrowfully departed, taking our seats
in the evening express for Kobe, after a damp passage across to the
mainland in a sampan.
The train was crowded with Japanese, and as each person was
accompanied by at least four mysterious and peculiar-shaped bundles
there was not much room to spare, and before long I had a pile of
"luggage" two yards high in front of me. When some of the little
ladies in the carriage with us grew tired of sitting up in European
fashion they slipped off their sandals and climbed right on to the
seat, where they sat comfortably on their heels and were happy at
last.
When night came the long seat was divided up into portions, the upper
berths were pulled down, and we all huddled into our respective
bunks, men and women mixed up together. It was distinctly trying to
be obliged to hoist oneself up into a high upper berth before a mixed
assembly, and more trying still to descend in the morning with the
very incomplete toilet which one was enabled to make in a reclining
position, but the blissful ignorance of our Japanese neighbour that
there was anything unusual in such a proceeding considerably relieved
our embarrassment. His attitude and calm matter-of-factness was very
reassuring, and the wonderfully cheerful conductor who brushed our
clothes and fastened our blouses seemed to consider himself specially
suited for the post of lady's-maid.
We arrived back at our hotel in Kobe feeling that for the first time
in our existence we had really seen life in a different aspect, and a
few days later we left Japan with a clear conscience, satisfied that
we had fully accomplished our duty, as well as considerably added to
our experiences.
[Illustration: OIL-PAPER UMBRELLAS DRYING IN THE SUN.
_From a Photograph._
]
[Illustration: THE LAST CREEK.]
By John Mackie.
The story of an eventful journey in the Australian bush, with
hostile blacks on the track. Mr. Mackie got through, but
the passage of the last creek was a distinctly touch-and-go
affair.
Schooners must have grub, and I had accompanied ours round to
Normanton for supplies, leaving only one white man, a Malay, a
Cingalese, and two semi-civilized black boys to look after the station
and store I had established on the lonely Calvert River, in the
south-western corner of the Gulf of Carpentaria.
Now a bushman had just arrived at Normanton who had passed my place on
the Calvert a few days before. He told of a sorry state of affairs. My
men had run out of rations and, what was worse, powder and shot. They
were now subsisting on a little rice, what few fish they could
catch in the swollen river, 'possums, iguanas, and snakes. This was
certainly pretty near bed-rock; but people in the Gulf country in
those days did not trouble much about their bill of fare; it was the
blacks, flies, and fever that concerned them most, and the blacks near
my place just then were particularly bad. They had come down in a body
some days previously, killed two or three of my remaining horses, and
tried their level best to get at my men. Fortunately, after a ruinous
consumption of powder and shot, they had been driven off.
There was only one thing for it--I must get to my station at any cost,
and that at once. To have it left to the mercy of the blacks was to
have it looted and burned to the ground, and all my schemes knocked on
the head.
More important, still, there were my men. I knew that if they
attempted to go eastward they would find themselves hemmed in by the
great creeks, and must be drowned or perish for want of food. I did
not take two minutes to make up my mind. I was young, of a girth that
is denied to most men, and the love of adventure ran hot in my blood.
It was now late in the evening, but I would start before sunrise in
the morning, and some time on the following day, if I had luck, would
reach my place. I had swum dozens of swollen rivers before, with a
horse and without a horse; and as for the blacks, I had got used to
them like the flies, and I had my Colt.
Next morning, while it was yet grey-dark, I strapped a small knapsack
on my back, containing a quart bottle full of powder, some small shot,
and other essentials, and prepared to start out. I told my partner to
push round to the Calvert River with the schooner as soon as the gale
abated, and was rowed to the eastern bank of the river in the dinghy.
The landing was bad, and here I had my first accident; for while the
man who rowed the boat was throwing after me the packet of bread and
meat that was to sustain me on my sixty-odd miles walk, it fell short
and splashed into the river. Back to the boat for more I would not go;
there was a considerable vein of old Highland superstition deep down
in my composition somewhere. I had gone, on more than one occasion,
without food for two or three days; I could surely do it now for
some thirty-six hours or so, even although I had not troubled about
breakfast before starting.
Sixty-odd miles of partially-flooded country infested by niggers! It
hardly gave me a thought in those days. My revolver was in my belt,
the cartridges were waterproof, the load on my back was light, and had
it not been for the thought of those poor chaps on the banks of the
Calvert my heart would have been still lighter.
I had traversed that uncertain track before on horseback, and, being
a fairly good bushman, there was not much danger of my losing it. I
wended my way through a gloomy pine-scrub, but as the rain had packed
the sandy soil the walking was fairly good, and I did my first few
miles as easily as if I had been walking on a macadamized road. Then I
came to an open patch of lightly timbered country, and sat down on the
crooked stem of a ti tree for a few minutes to fill and light my pipe.
A sickly, wan light had by this time appeared in the eastern sky.
A laughing jackass crashed into the tender spirit of the dawn, and
startled me for the moment by shrieking hysterically from a high gum
tree. A pale lemon glow showed over the tree-tops to the east, spread
upwards and outwards, and then gave place to a tawny yellow; the few
faint stars went out one by one, like lights in a great city at break
of day; a little bird among the boughs called sleepily to its mate,
and in another minute a noisy flock of parrakeets flew screeching
past. It was a wet, melancholy world, and when the sun showed behind
the trees like a great white quivering ball of fire, and a thin,
gauze-like mist arose from the damp sandy soil, I knew that the fierce
tropical day had once more set in.
I stepped gaily out again. Dangers? Why, the walking was almost as
good and pleasant as it was in any settled part of the country. Then,
all at once, my feet went splash! splash! into what seemed to be a
large pool of water; still on I went. In a few yards the water was
over my ankles; some fifteen or twenty yards more, and I realized
that it was up to my knees--fresh, warm, pellucid rain-water with dead
leaves and forest _débris_ floating through it. It was heavy wading,
and I paused for a moment to gain breath and look around.
There was water everywhere; it spread out like a great carpet over
the fairly level ground, and only the fine points of the very highest
grasses could be seen. Soon the flood was up to my armpits, and then
I began to swim. Even had I not been a strong swimmer, I could hardly
have been drowned, for all I had to do was to climb into a tree and
rest in the branches. In a few minutes more I came to a comparatively
open space and was swimming among the shaggy, drooping heads of
Pandanus palms. Then, all at once, I found I was being carried away by
a powerful current. I must get across that creek, wherever it was,
or else my strength must necessarily give out. Luckily my light
linen trousers and cotton shirt did not impede me much; my watertight
knapsack was but a trifling inconvenience; it was my boots that were
tiring me. I did not want boots, anyhow, in that sandy soil. I swam
hand over hand to a gum tree that reared its head above the water,
and, grasping a strong limb, drew myself up. I left my boots, tied
together by the laces, dangling over a bough, and was descending
the limb when, to my consternation, I saw just beneath me one of the
largest tiger-snakes I ever in my life had the good or ill fortune
to meet. It had doubtless been coiled round one of the upper branches
when I first came to the tree, and, being as much afraid of me as I
now was of it, had again made for the trunk, only to find its retreat
cut off. There was no time to cut a stick and have a sportive five
minutes; besides, I had but scanty footing and room to fight nimble
tiger-snakes, and so there was only one thing for it. The reptile,
when I threw a small piece of dry wood at it, positively refused
to budge. I took one last disgusted look at its gleaming, mottled,
sinuous coils and flat, repulsive head, from which its black, wicked,
basilisk eyes looked dully out, and flopped into the water from my
perch, a distance of some ten or twelve feet. At one place the current
resembled a mill-race; this was doubtless the creek proper. In ten
minutes more I touched bottom with my feet, and soon, to my great joy,
I was stepping along on the firm sand again. I soon found the track,
but on it I also found what I least desired to see--the tracks of
savages going in the same direction as myself. I kept a sharp look-out
after that.
The sun shone out all through that long, arduous day with a fierce,
intense heat, but there was no time for rest. I swam several creeks,
which carried me hundreds of yards down stream at a pace which meant
certain death if I ran against the business end of a snag; and I waded
and swam for many hundreds of yards at a stretch along the track in
places where it was flooded. By drinking copiously of the lukewarm
water I kept off the cravings of a healthy hunger. My pipe had slipped
from my pouch, and, anyhow, my tobacco and matches, which I carried
inside my hat, had got wet when I dropped from the tree; and this, to
me, was the greatest drawback of the situation. The sun rounded slowly
towards the west, and it was fast becoming dark, when suddenly I heard
the jabbering of blacks at some little distance. To climb into a thick
pine tree and conceal myself in its branches was the work of a few
minutes. I had hardly done so before a straggling mob of blacks passed
slowly underneath; the bucks, or warriors, went first with spears
and boomerangs in their hands, and the gins followed, carrying the
piccaninnies and household goods slung in numerous dilly-bags over
their backs. A few wretched half-tame dingoes brought up the rear,
snarling and fighting with one another. It seemed strange to me that
these savages should be journeying along the track, for at other times
they were rather anxious to avoid it. Perhaps they did it for the
sake of the novelty of the situation, naturally supposing that their
enemies, the whites, would not be travelling during the wet season.
There might have been fifty or sixty of them altogether in the band.
To my intense annoyance they went on about a couple of hundred yards,
and halted, to camp for the night, on what was evidently a drier piece
of ground than usual. There was no help for it--I should have to pass
the night in that tree. It would be folly to wander about in the dark;
besides, I was dead tired and could hardly keep my eyes open.
[Illustration: "WHEN I THREW A PIECE OF DRY WOOD AT IT, THE REPTILE
POSITIVELY REFUSED TO BUDGE."]
I unslung my knapsack, wedged myself into a sitting position among the
close, dense boughs, and, in spite of the proximity of danger and a
few stray mosquitoes, was asleep in two minutes. Had I descended the
tree and camped on the ground, sleep must have been almost impossible
on account of the insects. The blacks lit numerous tiny fires, or
"smudges," to drive them off.
I awoke about an hour before dawn, stiff and chilled to the bone on
account of my cramped, airy position, strapped my knapsack on my back,
and descended the tree. There was a silence as of death in the blacks'
camp. Taking my bearings, I made a wide detour and passed round them
safely. After that I avoided the track as much as possible. I must
have walked nearly thirty-five miles on the previous long day, but
it should be borne in mind that it was one of continuous, determined
toil.
I walked on steadily all that day, hardly pausing to rest, swimming
flooded creeks and wading in places up to my armpits, but my progress
was better than on the preceding day. I felt the pangs of hunger more
keenly, but I continued drinking large quantities of water, and this,
as I had often found before, to a certain degree stood me in good
stead. At noon I came to a wild, broad water-course called Scrubby
Creek, and I knew I was now within fifteen miles of my destination.
I had been speculating all day as to the state of affairs at my
camp--wondering if my men had deserted it, and if I should find it
in the possession of the savages. If so, I should have to be wary in
making my approach; I should have to follow the river down towards the
sea and wait and starve until the boat came round. The prospect was
not cheerful, but still I never for one moment allowed it to affect
the course I was pursuing. If I failed, then I had done my level best
to do what I could, and at least no soul-harrowing reflections would
be mine.
I was just about to step into the swirling, hurrying current of
Scrubby Creek when, happening to glance round, I saw something that
made my heart throb wildly and arrested my further progress in an
instant. A large number of savages were following me up, and there
was not one of them but carried a spear or weapon of some sort in his
hand. I wheeled about in an instant and drew my revolver, resolved to
give them something more than they bargained for.
The blacks stopped short when they found they were discovered, and
spread out in the form of a semicircle; then they closed in until,
with their _wimmeras_, they could make sure of throwing their spears
with precision and effect. I waited until I also could make sure of
my man, and then, as one of them drew back his arm to lever his spear
home, I raised my revolver and fired. He dropped all of a heap, like a
bullock that has been knocked on the head with an axe. A spear whizzed
past me and buried itself in the thick bark of a ti tree close to my
head. My blood was up, but I took deliberate aim, and the savage who
had thrown it also bit the dust. At eighty yards my Colt was almost as
deadly as a rifle. Somewhat taken by surprise, the blacks retired, and
I emptied the remaining chambers of my revolver at them with effect. I
even made to follow them up, reloading as I walked, and they actually
broke and ran before me.
This was exactly what I wanted, and I seized my opportunity. I
turned and dived into the brown, tawny-crested creek, and by vigorous
side-strokes made for a narrow, island-like strip of wooded land that
stood right in the middle of the stream. I had all but passed it when
I caught hold of an overhanging bough and drew myself into a thick
clump of reeds and undergrowth. I stood up to the arm-pits in water.
There was now some seventy yards between me and the bank I had just
left--about half the distance I had yet to accomplish. As I expected,
the blacks, who had rallied, now appeared on the scene. Quick as
thought I placed my soft-felt hat brim downwards on the water, and
away it went sailing down that boiling torrent. The blacks saw it, and
thought they had me now safely enough; they directed spear after spear
at it, but I noticed that none of them took effect; they ran along the
bank in a great state of excitement, shouting and skipping, and in a
few minutes more were out of sight. If my hat would only continue to
float it might lead them quite a nice little goose-chase.
I waited for some time, and was just about to strike out for the
opposite shore when, to my no little surprise and chagrin, two of the
savages returned. They went for some little distance up-stream, and
then made straight for my little island. Evidently they had thought
there was something suspicious about my hat. Only my mouth, eyes,
nose, and my revolver-hand were above water now, and I waited for them
to come on.
And what a wait that was! Every moment seemed an eternity. I could
hardly control the intense longing that possessed me to be up and at
them. But I knew I must bide my time and make sure of both, otherwise
they could easily elude me in the water, attract the attention of the
other blacks, and then it would be all up with me. I knew the chances
of my coming out of that creek alive were very slight indeed; but
life seemed sweet just then. Every now and again a little wave would
unexpectedly dash over my face, and I would be nearly suffocated. Were
these savages never going to reach me? The suspense was too terrible.
They reached my island and came down the narrow strip, prodding the
undergrowth with their spears. In another second they were within a
few yards of where I was ambushed. Both of them saw me at the same
instant, and up went their spears. Fortunately, one was almost behind
the other, and this interfered with their concerted action. I fired
point-blank into the grinning face of the foremost savage, and he
dropped where he stood; I saw the little round hole my bullet had
made right in the centre of his forehead. The flint spear-head of the
second black ripped open my shirt and made an ugly gash in the fleshy
part of my arm. He was within six feet of me, and I levelled my
revolver at him and pulled the trigger. To my dismay the weapon
snapped uselessly, and I realized that my last cartridge had been
fired. In another moment that savage and I were wrestling together
in deadly grips. Once he had me under water and I experienced all the
first horrors of drowning, with the waters thundering in my ears. It
was surely all up with me now! But by one supreme effort I pulled the
rascal down, and then it was my turn. When I had done with him I knew
he would give me no more trouble. Next I tore off part of my shirt
into a long strip and bound it tightly round my injured arm in a
rough-and-ready but effectual fashion. Then, with only one arm
which was of any real use, I essayed to cross the remaining strip of
hurrying flood. In a few minutes more I was on the other side, more
dead than alive. Thank God! It was the last creek I had to cross.
[Illustration: "HE DROPPED WHERE HE STOOD."]
[Illustration: THE ROMANCE OF WILD ANIMAL CATCHING.]
By Harold J. Shepstone.
An interesting article describing how Mr. Carl Hagenbeck, the
famous animal dealer, collects his curious merchandise. Often,
to secure specimens of some particularly valuable species,
special expeditions have to be organized. These are frequently
away for many months, traversing thousands of miles of
practically unexplored country and meeting with all sorts of
exciting adventures.
A little way outside the busy shipping port of Hamburg is the pretty
little suburban village of Stellingen. Here is located the largest
wild-animal exchange in the world--the one place where strange and
curious beasts from the four quarters of the earth are received and
housed until wanted by the great zoological gardens and menageries. It
is hardly necessary to add that this unique establishment is presided
over by Mr. Carl Hagenbeck, famous as the most successful animal
dealer the modern world has ever seen, and as the creator of a
decidedly original zoological garden.
At Mr. Hagenbeck's great depôt there may be seen at any time the
finest and rarest collection of animals in the world. When the writer
was in Stellingen recently the value of the wild beasts gathered there
was put down at fifty thousand pounds, and they certainly included
almost every living creature one could name, among them being many
very rare species.
Naturally, the most romantic part of the whole business is the way
in which the animals are captured in their native wilds and
brought--sometimes thousands of miles--to the depôt, and the object
of the present article is to describe this side of a strange yet
fascinating trade.
There is a vast difference between the hunter who kills for pleasure
and the hunter whose business it is to capture his quarry alive. The
former merely seeks his quarry, shoots it, secures a skin or horn as a
trophy, and then returns. True, he meets with many adventures and has
often exciting stories to tell of fights with enraged beasts. But
the collector stands on a different plane; his mission is not
to exterminate, but to preserve for the education and benefit of
civilized man. He may rightly be described as the humane invader of
the forest, jungle, desert, and plain, for he never kills unless it is
necessary for self-preservation. He sets out with the determination to
bring back typical specimens of the wild life of out-of-the-way parts
of the earth, so that those who pursue more peaceful callings at home
may obtain some idea of the characteristics and habits of the curious
beasts that inhabit the more inaccessible parts of the globe.
Needless to say, the animal-catcher's task is much more difficult than
that of the ordinary hunter; from first to last every quest is one
long period of anxiety. The simplest part of the work, in many cases,
is the capture of the beasts. Thereafter his chief concern is their
welfare. He has to attend to their many and varied wants, doctor them
when they are sick, and transport them safely for many thousands of
miles--often across trackless and practically unexplored country.
Not only must he know how to deal with the savage beast, but with the
savage man as well, for to accomplish his purpose he has frequently
to rely upon the natives to assist him, and he can only do this
efficiently by knowing how to handle them. Indeed, there are few
callings demanding more qualifications than that of the seeker after
live wild animals. The modern collector is a hunter, explorer, and
zoologist rolled into one.
Naturally, it is the rarer species, such as the rhinoceros,
hippopotamus, giraffe, and zebra, that the dealers most prize. And
here a word of explanation is necessary. A traveller returning from
the wilds of Africa will tell you how he detected hippos floating down
the streams and spotted giraffes on the horizon; he will also relate
to you how many had been shot in the district only a short while
before by some famous sportsman. Yet, if you wished to procure a live
rhinoceros to-day, you would probably have to give as much as eight
hundred pounds for it, and almost as much for a hippopotamus. Why,
one may well ask, this enormous price for a single specimen of these
creatures, when they appear to be fairly plentiful in the land of
their birth? The reason is easily explained.
[Illustration: ELEPHANTS AND BABIES--THE LATTER WERE BORN ON THE WAY
TO EUROPE FROM SIAM.
_From Photographs._]
To-day no hunter would dream of trying to capture a full-grown hippo
or rhinoceros. Indeed, it would be practically impossible to hold such
an animal, and, even were it possible to entice one into a cage, it
would probably only kill itself in its frenzied efforts to escape, or
refuse to eat, and so die of starvation. What the hunter endeavours
to do, therefore, is to secure the young ones. This he does by hunting
along the river banks until he happens to discover a hippo and her
young. The thing then is to capture the calf.
Mr. Hagenbeck's hunters, or rather the natives engaged by his men,
resort to two methods in catching the hippopotamus. The so-called
Hawati, or water-hunters, of the Soudan, all of whom are excellent and
daring swimmers, harpoon their victims at the noon hour, when they are
sunk in deep slumber. Then they pull them to the bank by means of a
cord attached to the harpoon, and there make them fast. The hunters
use for this a special kind of harpoon, made in such a way that it
does not make a deep wound. Fully three-quarters of the hippopotami
exhibited in Europe have been captured in this way.
[Illustration: NEWLY-CAPTURED ELEPHANTS ENJOYING A BATH IN THE SEA OFF
THE COAST OF CEYLON.
_From a Photograph._]
]
[Illustration: TRANSPORTING WILD ANIMALS DOWN A RIVER IN NORTHERN
ASIA.
_From a Photograph._]
]
Hippopotamus hunts are also conducted on land. There advantage is
taken of the fact that the female hippopotamus makes her young walk
in front of her. The reason for this is that the beast, being well
protected in the rear by its abnormally thick skin, prefers to have
its offspring in front, where it can guard them better against danger.
But, in spite of its affection for its children, the mother hippo has
no particular desire to meet danger when it comes. So the hunters
dig large pits in the forest, cover them over until they are
fully concealed, and then lie in wait near by. Presently a female
hippopotamus comes along with her child trotting before her. Suddenly,
without warning, the young one disappears before its mother's eyes.
This is too much for the old animal. She dashes away leaving the
little one at the mercy of its enemies.
A fence is built at once around the pit and the captive is ensnared,
thrown to the ground, and securely tied. Then it is placed on a sort
of litter and carried by native carriers through the dense forest
to the hunter's camp. This is arduous work, as a two-year-old hippo
weighs from 1,000lb. to 1,200lb.
[Illustration: A HUNTERS CARAVAN ON THE MARCH--THE OUTFITTING OF
THESE EXPEDITIONS IS A VERY COSTLY BUSINESS.
_From a Photograph._
]
Having secured the object of his mission, the next thing the hunter
has to do is to feed his prize. Now, a baby hippo will drink thirty
pints of milk a day and bellow for more, so that the question of an
adequate supply is very important. The nutriment is supplied by goats,
which have to be brought along with the expedition. This means, of
course, that the hunter's caravan is an unwieldy affair, and can only
move across country very slowly. Every step it advances it increases
in size, being continually added to, for in addition to collecting
live animals the collector also gathers skins and other things of
value to the dealer.
All the great animal collectors are agreed that the finest hunters in
the world are the natives themselves. They know how to frighten and
confuse the parent animals, and are quick at seizing an opportunity
for snatching up the young, a thing which has to be done quickly
and without the slightest hesitation, or the consequences may prove
serious.
In catching giraffes the hunter engages only natives who are expert
horsemen; he may recruit as few as a dozen or a corps of a couple of
hundred. Scouts are sent out until a herd is sighted, and then off go
the natives on their speedy Abyssinian ponies. Having come up with the
herd, with yells and shouts they dash towards the animals. Frightened
out of their wits by the din, the long-necked creatures turn and bolt
for dear life. For some time the chase is kept up at furious speed,
until one by one the young ones fall behind exhausted. Instantly they
are cut off from the others by a couple of men on horseback and headed
towards the camp, soon becoming entirely exhausted and falling an easy
prey to their captors. Halters are then fastened round their heads and
they are led and driven back to the camp. They are fed principally on
goats' milk, corn, and various kinds of green stuff.
It would be practically impossible to secure a full-grown giraffe,
for if you managed to corner one you could not hold it. This animal
is more plentiful now than it was a few years ago, on account of the
opening up of the Egyptian Soudan. Indeed, between the years 1880 and
1900 only three giraffes were imported into Europe, two coming from
South Africa and one from Senegal. "I have had rather bad luck with
giraffes lately," said Mr. Hagenbeck. "Out of six recently sent to us
from the interior of Nubia, only one arrived alive; the remainder all
died on the way. Last year, out of eight, only two reached Hamburg."
A more hardy animal, and one that is decidedly more plentiful, is the
zebra--that is to say, the common mountain kind. Certain species of
this beautifully-striped African horse, however, are getting very
scarce, including the Grévy and Burchell. Zebras are caught by
"drives." First of all, the hunter builds a large stockaded enclosure
with a kind of funnel-shaped opening. As many as three to five
thousand natives are then called into requisition. Some of them come
mounted on their swift ponies, the majority, however, being on foot.
Each man carries a harmless-looking little flag on the end of a stick.
Scouts are sent out in various directions, and when they report the
presence of a herd the army of natives quietly files out of camp and
for hours tramps over the ground, spreading out in the form of a vast
semicircle, measuring perhaps five miles across at its widest part. In
this way they manage to surround the unsuspecting zebras. Then, at
a given signal--generally a pistol-shot--they commence shouting and
beating tom-toms, moving meanwhile towards the animals.
The frightened zebras retreat at once, dashing towards the stockade.
As they approach it other animals are surprised, including, perhaps,
antelope, eland, deer, buffalo, and perhaps a giraffe. The one aim of
the four-footed fugitives is to get away from the cordon of yelling
natives, which now surrounds them on every side. There is only one
outlet, which leads into the stockade, and into this they plunge
panic-stricken. Once inside, the entrance is immediately closed. At
a recent drive, organized by one of Mr. Hagenbeck's hunters in German
East Africa, fully four hundred zebras and a large number of antelopes
and other animals were surrounded in this way. As the corral was not
large enough to hold such a number the greater portion were allowed
to escape, and finally eighty-five zebras and fifteen antelopes were
secured.
When first captured the zebra is very wild, dashing about the stockade
at lightning speed, but in a few days he recognises that it is
hopeless to try to escape, and philosophically accepts the situation.
In German East Africa the settlers often tame these newly-caught
zebras and ride them like horses.
Curiously enough, the big cats--such as lions, tigers, and
leopards--do not give the hunter so much trouble as some of the hoofed
animals. In the case of lions they are now only taken when cubs. This
work is done by the natives; the collector merely tells them that he
is wanting lions, and in a short time they return with the desired
number. These men track the lioness to her den, rushing in suddenly
and raining spears upon her till she is dead. The little ones are then
wrapped up in pieces of cloth and handed over to the hunter at
the camp. They are fed on goats' milk--which they drink out of a
bottle--and pieces of fowl until they are old enough to travel, when
they are sent down to the coast in little wooden boxes on the backs of
camels and shipped to Europe.
Occasionally when the cub-hunters visit a den they find both parents
away, and then their task is easy. Should the mother return, however,
there is at once a fierce fight, and unless she is quickly overpowered
it goes hard indeed with the natives. There is no creature more fierce
than one of these big cats when it comes to protecting her young, and
the cries of the infuriated mother will sometimes bring her mate to
the scene, and an enraged male lion strikes terror into all but the
stoutest hearts.
Abyssinia is now the great lion-hunting ground. The best lions were
those obtained from the Atlas Mountains in North Africa, but this
species is now practically extinct. At Mr. Hagenbeck's depôt there are
at present some forty-six lions of all ages. They have come from the
Congo, from the Egyptian Soudan, from Senegal, and from South and
East Africa. Some of these animals are worth as much as three hundred
pounds apiece. In the same section there may also be seen some
twenty-two tigers, representing several very rare species. There
are some, for instance, from Siberia, magnificent creatures, with
beautifully-striped coats, and worth over two hundred pounds apiece.
Tigers are captured as cubs and also when fully grown; often the
animal hunter, to the delight of the natives, will entrap some
much-dreaded man-eater. Tigers are caught in large pitfalls, and
various methods of securing the animals when once they are in the pit
are adopted. In some cases a strong wooden trap is fixed in the pit,
and when the animal falls through the lightly-covered mesh at the top
it traps and cages itself automatically. In others it merely falls
into a big hole, and has to be secured and dragged out by ropes. In
certain parts of India the natives are so daring that they will place
a collar, from which hang a number of twenty-foot ropes, round the
neck of a newly-caught tiger. To the end of each a man will hang on
for dear life, and by pulling against each other guide the infuriated
brute along the path they wish it to follow. In this way they
literally walk the tiger to market.
[Illustration: A HERD OF DIMINUTIVE WILD HORSES FROM ASIA--THEY COST
MR. HAGENBECK TEN THOUSAND POUNDS TO OBTAIN.
_From a Photograph._
]
Everyone knows how they catch elephants in India--by driving them into
a kheddah or stockade, and then sending in trained elephants to subdue
their newly-caught brethren--so that no description of this method
need be given here. Naturally, no dealer would ever dream of
organizing an expedition to hunt this great creature, save, perhaps,
the African variety, which is now very rare and valuable. In the
course of a single year Mr. Hagenbeck will dispose of as many as
thirty to fifty elephants. On one occasion he received a cable
ordering thirty, and they were duly shipped by the next steamer.
[Illustration: A CARAVAN HALTED FOR REST.
_From a Photograph._
]
Some few years ago the famous dealer had a remarkable experience
with an African elephant, which stood eight feet in height and was a
magnificent creature of its kind. It was sold to the proprietor of
an American circus, who was then touring in Europe. Mr. Hagenbeck's
instructions were to send the animal by rail from Hamburg to Dresden.
A special wagon was ordered to convey the creature, and when all was
ready it was walked from the depot down to the station.
"He went as quietly as a lamb," said Mr. Hagenbeck. "Arriving at the
station, I fixed a stout rope to one of his forelegs, in case the
animal should get a little nervous or excited. The elephant was
just about to enter its wagon when an express train ran through
the station, blowing its whistle rather loudly as it did so. This
frightened the creature. He commenced to trumpet, spread out his long
ears, and then, with a twist of his foot, smashed the rope as if it
had been a piece of thread. Realizing he was about to bolt I jumped
up and clung to one of his ears, hoping by this means to prevent the
beast from dashing away and causing endless damage everywhere.
"I had hardly grasped his ear, however, before he started off. I had
no option then but to hang on, for if I had dropped I should probably
have been trampled upon, so to the animal's ear I clung for dear life.
At the bottom of the railway yard was a large iron gate. When we
first came through we had closed it behind us, and I thought that this
barrier, perhaps, might stop the elephant's mad career. But it did
nothing of the kind. The brute simply charged it full force with his
head, without in the least slackening speed, and the stout gate was
smashed, portions of the iron bars being hurled a great distance.
[Illustration: THE MONARCH OF THE FOREST IN AN UNUSUAL POSE.
_From a Photograph._
]
[Illustration: A GENERAL VIEW OF THE ZEBRA STOCKADE, ERECTED TO HOLD
NEWLY-CAPTURED SPECIMENS.
_From a Photograph._]
]
"Out into the busy streets of Hamburg bolted the elephant, trumpeting
madly and frightening both horses and pedestrians as he rushed along.
Past electric trams and carriages he dashed, with me still dangling
from one of his ears. He went straight back to the depôt, the same way
as he had come--by a road which he had never travelled before. When
he arrived at the depôt the iron gate there was closed, but this was
quickly broken down and the creature dashed into his stable. Entering
the latter, he stood still for a second or two, and then jumped on to
the platform where he had been in the habit of standing and commenced
eating hay as if nothing had happened!"
Here is an interesting instance of the famous dealer's enterprise.
When the Russian traveller, Prjevalsky, startled the zoological world
a few years ago by the announcement that he had seen in the deserts of
Sungaria, in Central Asia, a new species of wild horse, Mr. Hagenbeck
decided to secure some specimens, and an expedition was at once
organized. His travellers penetrated to the northern border of the
Gobi Desert, where they found themselves in the land of the Kirghiz,
a tribe noted for its horses and expert horsemanship. Engaging the
services of nearly two thousand Kirghiz riders, and taking with them
fifty brood mares in foal, the collectors sought the desert home of
the wild horse. After a series of exciting adventures the travellers
succeeded in capturing fifty-two young colts of the wild horse
species.
These were mothered by the domesticated mares that had been taken
along with the expedition for that purpose, and then, after a rest,
the long and arduous homeward journey was begun. It took three months
for the caravan to reach the Siberian Railway and depart for Hamburg.
During the trip twenty-eight of the wild colts succumbed, and only
twenty-four reached Hamburg alive. The expedition was in the field
nearly eighteen months, and its expenses totalled some ten thousand
pounds.
When I was in Stellingen Mr. Hagenbeck was daily expecting the return
of an expedition which he had dispatched to Northern Siberia. His men
were bringing him home some rare deer, bears, wolves, pheasants, and a
host of other creatures. Another hunter was on his way back from West
Africa with some young gorillas and other interesting creatures,
while yet another was bringing home elephants from Ceylon, and still a
fourth Polar bears and young walruses from Spitzbergen.
These collectors journey far into the wilds and literally take their
lives in their hands. They never know what danger awaits them. On one
occasion a caravan was quietly making its way along the dry bed of a
stream in Central Asia, the chief hunter happy in the knowledge that
his mission had been successful, and that he was bringing home a
really valuable collection of wild beasts. Suddenly the heavens
grew dark and loud peals of thunder were heard, followed by vivid
lightning-flashes. The hunter knew what it meant--unless he got out of
that river-bed soon he and his men and their valuable freight would be
washed away. He hastened them forward with all speed, but before they
could find a track up the steep sides the waters were upon them,
and in a few minutes what had previously been a smooth roadway was a
roaring torrent, with men and horses, mixed up with all kinds of wild
creatures, fighting for their lives Most of the men managed to escape,
but three-fourths of the valuable animals were lost.
[Illustration: TRANSHIPPING CAMELS FROM SHIP TO SHORE.
_From a Photograph._]
]
[Illustration: A SPECIAL CONSIGNMENT OF "ASSORTED WILD ANIMALS" FOR
MR. HAGENBECK'S DEPÔT.
_From a Photograph._]
]
To describe how every beast one sees in a well-organized zoo is caught
would naturally occupy a great deal of space. The various species of
Siberian deer are taken when young. A herd is driven by the natives
into deep snow, into which the young ones sink and are unable to
extricate themselves. Most of the bears, too, are also secured when
mere cubs. In the case of the giant Polar bear, the cubs are taken
from their mothers, dumped into barrels, and brought across the ocean
in ships to the dealer, often arriving in a very sorry plight. The
Indian hunter will catch snakes for you by setting fire to the grass
where they are known to exist, and securing them in nets as they try
to escape. Those of the boa-constrictor type are taken either when
they have gorged themselves with food, and are more or less lifeless,
or else secured in traps.
The whole business is vastly exciting, and Mr. Hagenbeck can narrate
many adventures he has had while handling his strange merchandise.
When a young man he often went out himself hunting animals. While
bringing home a large consignment once from Africa a full-grown lion
got loose on board ship. It was very early in the morning, and the
dealer was asleep in his cabin at the time. He was quickly roused by
the captain, who was very much frightened, as were also the members
of his crew. Placing a "shifting den" in position, the dealer took his
large whip and sought the lion. He found him in a crouching position,
his eyes glaring, and in no mood to be played with. Cracking the whip
several times, by a series of man[oe]uvres he managed to get behind
the beast and slowly drove him forward. It was very tricky work, and
several times it looked as if the big revolver would have to be drawn
and the animal shot. Then, as sometimes happens, the animal suddenly
lost heart, bolted into his cage, and was safely secured.
In Suez, once, a full-grown giraffe ran away with Mr. Hagenbeck, who
held him by a rope twisted round his wrist. Not being able to free
himself he was dragged along the streets and fearfully knocked about.
When he did get loose he was so exhausted and bruised that he had to
lie quite still for a quarter of an hour without moving. On another
occasion, while unloading a hippopotamus, the animal got loose and
started after him. He ran into its den, and managed to escape through
the bars at the other end just as the beast was upon him.
[Illustration: SOME OF THE GIRAFFES IN MR. HAGENBECK'S ANIMAL DEPÔT.
_From a Photograph._
]
Animals sometimes start fighting among themselves, and to separate
them is exceedingly dangerous. Perhaps the queerest encounter ever
witnessed at this remarkable animal exchange was that which took
place between a hippopotamus and a kangaroo. "The latter," said Mr.
Hagenbeck, "was the largest kangaroo I ever had in my possession;
it was over six feet high, and a very powerful animal. It occupied a
stable close to that of the hippo, and one night the kangaroo jumped
over its fence into the hippo's pen. The kangaroo landed in the
hippo's tank, which was empty.
"It was two o'clock in the morning when the incident occurred, and
when I arrived on the scene I could not help smiling, the whole affair
being so comical. There stood the monster hippo with his enormous
mouth open, snapping at the kangaroo down in the tank below. The
moment the hippo moved down towards the tank the kangaroo sprang into
the air and smacked his opponent in the face with his great forefeet.
When the hippo got too venturesome, by endeavouring to walk into the
tank despite the blows, the kangaroo took a mighty leap upwards and
struck his enemy with his hind feet, inflicting terrible scratches
with his claws.
"Try as he would the hippo could not get into that tank to attack
the kangaroo. To separate the combatants was a puzzle. We did it
ultimately by fixing up an arrangement by which we dropped a large
seal net over the kangaroo, and then, drawing in the cords, secured
him. To divert the hippo's attention, the moment the net was lowered
over the kangaroo one of my men pretended to enter the cage. The ruse
succeeded, and the kangaroo was safely released and taken back to his
proper quarters.
"I could tell you many more adventures," said Mr. Hagenbeck, as we
shook hands on parting, "but the fact is I have just written a book in
which I have given a complete story of my life, and I have embodied
in it the little adventures I have had while hunting, collecting, and
handling my strange merchandise." That book certainly ought to make
good reading.
[Illustration]