About nine o’clock of the night of the 10th of March, the lookout in
the top sang out, “Light, ho!” which we knew must be on the island
of Ceylon. The entrance to the harbor of Point de Galle, being quite
narrow, we endeavored to get such soundings as would enable us to come
to anchor until daybreak, but not succeeding in this, the ship’s head
was put off shore, and we lay-to for the night.
That most ancient and quasi-veracious traveller, Sir John Mandeville,
who had great injustice wrought him by the wits of his day, I think it
was, who, in speaking of the approach to Ceylon said, that the spicy
odor therefrom could be smelt long before “the land thereof might be
discerned from the tallest masthead of a ship.” If this be true, Sir
John, great changes have taken place in these latter days. We did
not detect anything unusually odoriferous in the atmosphere; and I
subsequently found that one might walk through a cinnamon grove without
being attracted by the scent, as the cinnamon proper is hermetically
sealed by a kind of epidermis bark, which has to be removed before
it is gotten at. The nutmeg, with the mace around it, at first of a
deep-red color, is enveloped in a covering as thick as the enclosure of
the stone of the apricot, and on the tree resembles this fruit before
ripening. The “spicy breezes” blow very “softly o’er Ceylon’s isle.”
[Illustration: _LITH. OF SARONY & Co. NEW YORK._
CEYLON.]
The next morning, having gotten a pilot, we ran into the harbor of
Point de Galle, which is a very contracted one, though quite secure,
surrounded by groves of the tall cocoa-tree, which nearly conceal the
town. The town, built by the Portuguese, is entirely walled in and
fortified; and since its capture by the English its defences have been
increased. It occupies a space equal in extent to Fortress Monroe, and
was garrisoned by a native rifle regiment, with English officers, and
a small number of royal artillery. These Ceylonese troops are said
to show a ferocity of courage when in battle, and the arms of their
light-complexioned commanders frequently have to be resorted to, to
make them cease firing when the order is given. Point de Galle is now
one of the stopping-places for the peninsula and oriental mail steamers
_en route_ to China, and the isthmus of Suez. There are two other ports
on the island: that of Colombo, celebrated for its pearl-fisheries and
white elephants, and that of Trincomalee, from which a great quantity
of the teak-wood is brought.
We had scarcely anchored when the ship was surrounded by native canoes,
called d’honies, which, at a little distance, resemble planks edgewise
upon the water, fifteen or twenty feet in length. They are hollowed
out of logs so narrow, that the paddling occupant usually keeps one
leg dangling over the side. To prevent their capsizing, a solid log,
much less in size and length, pointed at both ends, is placed about ten
feet off and parallel with the boat. This is connected with the boat
by arched bamboo poles, and forms an out-rigger. A paddle propels them
very easily, and they sail quite fast.
These boats were filled with Indiamen and Ceylonese, who would have
been dressed if they had only had some garment from the slice of cotton
about the loin, up to their neck or down to the heel. In a short time
our decks were filled with them; also Mussulmen and Arabs, with their
small oval caps and vests, exposing breast and arms, and others wearing
kerchiefs of all manner of gaudy colors wrapped about them and hanging
to the knees like a skirt. But the thing that strikes you with the most
singularity is, that the men whose heads are not shaved, wear their
hair in a knot like women, secured to the back of the head with a large
tortoise-shell comb. These fellows “salam” you, and their salutation
is extremely servile. Some of them come for your clothes—they are
washermen, and return your garments with remarkable quickness for the
East. Others pull out of their kummerbunds at the waist a lot of what
they call precious stones, and say, “Wantshee, me have got good mooney
stones—star stones, ruby, cat’s-eye stone, sapphire,” &c.
“Where every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile!”
The “prospect” of being cheated is not a pleasant one at any time; and
these men are very “vile.” The fellow will hold the precious jewel to
the light, and in the dark, vary its position, rub it, and praise it
with great earnestness and sincerity, but should you be verdant enough
to purchase the gem, even at half the estimate set upon it by him of
the land of Golconda, an ordinary rat-tail file will very soon assure
you that you have got a fine specimen of cut-glass. The genuine, or
precious stones, are bought up by agents and sent to London. Should
their sales grow very slack they are most desirous of trading for any
old clothes you may have—oriental and old clothes!
I landed as soon as I could, after our salute, on the jutty, from which
Mr. Barnum’s elephants had been shipped, and passing through a walled
gate, entered the town, the sun shining down fiercely. The houses were
of a yellow stucco, very low, without glass in the windows, generally,
and their doors concealed behind mat screens. In my stroll in the
direction of a fine new lighthouse, terminating a picturesque point
where the sea continually breaks sullenly, my attention was attracted
by a very long, notched white flag, with a number of smaller ones on
the sides, hanging from a tall mast. On going toward it, I found it
was placed at the entrance of a walled enclosure, which contained a
mosque and Mussulman school. Fronting the door of the mosque was a pool
of not the clearest water, enclosed in handsome masonry. While I stood
there, many of the devout, among whom I saw a blind man, came in and
washed their hands and face, to say nothing of abluting their dentals,
previous to proceeding to their devotions inside the building; while
in the interior were a number kneeling on mats, then sitting back on
their bare feet, the palms of the hands meanwhile resting on the knees,
occasionally striking their forehead against the tesselated floor,
facing in the direction of Mecca. Their pointed, clog-like sandals
they had left outside. I was told I could enter if I would remove my
pedal covering, but I declined. Removing one’s boots after a long walk,
in a temperature of ninety odd, is not exactly the thing. I asked,
quizzically, a long-bearded old Mussulman standing by, who understood
English, whether he had any idols in his temple. He replied quickly:
“No; there is but one God: we worshipped your Savior and turned our
faces to Jerusalem, until Mahomet _our_ Savior came—now we turn our
faces to Mecca.” Pointing to a Hindoo temple, he remarked: “They have
idols over there, but we are not allowed even to eat or drink anything
when we are near these buildings.”
In a low stone edifice adjacent to this mosque I glanced in at a
school, where fifteen or twenty infantile scholars of both sexes whose
wardrobe complete consisted of ankle, waist, and wrist rings, and
pendent little silver ornaments, squatted on mats. In their midst,
_a la_ Turk, sat a shaven-headed, long-bearded Mussulman, chewing
the betel-leaf and areca-nut, and uplifting at intervals the rod of
correction, which was more effective than the ferula of the Christian,
owing to the scanty costume of the juvenile recipients of Mohammedan
morality. The scholars were engaged in writing with bamboo pens, on
boards covered with a clay preparation, passages from the Koran,
which was lying open upon a little stand in front of the red-saliva
pedagogue. When he turned a leaf of his sacred book, he did it with
a portion of his white garment, never touching the page with the
naked hand. It appeared to be a free jabber on the part of the tender
nudes, in Arabic, but if a sentence was missed by one, down came the
Damocletian ratan, and the humanity of breeches rushed with full force
on the mind. The kind heart of Dame Partington would have been greatly
grieved, and she would have philanthropically exclaimed, “Bless the
inventor of clothing.” And “bless the inventor of clothing;” the
vitiated taste that can find nothing repulsive in an exact marble
nudity, which, in the flesh of the original would be thought with
Dogberry, “most tolerable and not to be endured,” would be most fully
satiated—gorged—after continually looking upon the half-clad and
garmentless people of the East, no matter how fine their figures. He
will certainly become of the opinion that dress is a part and parcel of
a woman, and that she is never so engaging in appearance as when clad
in Christian garments. “Greek slaves” in bronze don’t answer.
One is struck with the fullness, beauty, and glossiness of the hair of
the natives, especially when he bears in mind, that those who do not
shave their heads, walk uncovered under the hot sun of their clime. I
had some curiosity to find out the secret of this. They use on their
hair twice a-week the juice of limes, obtained by boiling them, and
then dress it with an oil pressed cold from the queen cocoa, scented
with “citronella,” a very singular and powerful perfume which they
distil on the island. Sixty drops of the citronella is sufficient to
perfume a bottle of the oil of considerable size.
Should you sleep ashore at the hotel, you are awoke at an early hour
and informed that “bathing” is ready. Accoutred in a Lazarus-like
robe, generally known as a sheet, you bid the heathen lead the way,
and you follow to an outhouse constructed of bamboo and mats. Here two
fellows pour cold water over you from copper “monkeys,” in such quick
succession, that the most inexorable disciple of Priessnitz, would be
soon forced to cry _peccavi_. Encased in the Lazarus garment you flee
into your chamber. You are pursued here by a heathen, who tells you
“me barber,” and proceeds to shave one side of the face at a time,
shampoos your head with lime-juice, and then withdraws in favor of
another idol-worshipping attendant, who mollifies you with a cup of
fine coffee. The pleasant persecution over, you sleep again.
The news is conveyed from Point de Galle to Colombo by a
pigeon-express, none of your “fly away to my native land, sweet dove,”
business, with billet-doux, and riband around neck, but despatches,
which are tied to the feet of the bird, who in flying draws them up
under him, and in that way the paper is kept from a wetting, should it
rain. The birds from one point are sent to the other by a coach, and
not being fed in this strange cote, upon being turned out with their
despatch they fly home. They fly seventy-two miles in an hour and three
quarters.
This is an outline of modern Ceylon. The men who “bow down to wood and
stone” here will tell you, that the footprints of a man, in stone, on
the top of a mountain, is the footprint of their God, where he stepped
over to the main land; but it is called Adam’s Peak, and the Mussulmen
say that Adam and Eve dwelt there. They will tell you that Paradise
was in the Seventh Heaven, and that Adam and Eve were expelled by the
command, “Get you down, the one of you an enemy to the other, and there
shall be a dwelling-place for you on earth.” Adam fell on Ceylon, or
Suendib, and Eve at Joddah on the Red sea, and after two hundred years
the angel Gabriel conducted Adam to where Eve was, and they came and
dwelt in Ceylon.
Before leaving Point de Galle, a green boat came alongside, bearing an
elephant flag, out of which came the captain of a Siamese man-of-war,
to pay a visit of courtesy. He was quite a young-looking man,
dressed in a red jacket with a yellow silk skirt. Behind him walked
an attendant bearing a pearl box in his hand. One of our midshipmen
thought this must contain his “character.” As he spoke but Siamese, and
our commodore did not speak Siamese, the interview must have been quite
satisfactory.
On the 15th of March we left Point de Galle, and headed across the bay
of Bengal, in the direction of the northwest end of Sumatra. We did
not take in our entire quantity of coal at Ceylon, but got on board
fifty tons of the wood of the place, to try the experiment of its
burning in our furnaces. It did not answer; the expense of consumption
per hour was twenty dollars, while coal would have been about six,
and producing less steam, while it induced greater danger of setting
fire to the ship. In our run across the bay of Bengal we had a smooth
sea, hot weather, and moonlight nights. In five days we were off the
island of Nicobar, and entered the straits of Malacca, the weather
changing to squally and rainy. Here we passed the English oriental
mail-steamer from China, having on board commodore Aulick, whose late
command of the East India squadron was soon to be assumed by the
commodore aboard of our ship. Our run through the straits of Malacca
was not signalized by any remarkable incidents. We saw the shore on
either hand at times; passed in sight of the English East India penal
settlement, Pulo-Penang, and close aboard of some most lovely tropical
islands, anchored at night, and caught some red fish; made lay to,
and frightened half to death, the captain of a Malay boat, called a
parrigue, who had been manœuvring very suspiciously about nine at
night, by firing a couple of muskets at him; and received and returned
a salute. This was the English frigate Cleopatra, in tow of an East
India Company’s steamer, one day’s run from Singapore. As they neared,
the frigate broke stops with an American flag at the fore, and let slip
with twenty-one guns. The old Mississippi was not to be caught napping,
and although we had to lower away our quarter boats to prevent their
injury by the concussion from our large guns, we soon had flying the
English ensign at the fore, and replied with twenty-one. It is not
the greater part of a century, that an American man-of-war would have
been allowed to pass without any such national courtesy being shown by
an Englishman. As the two vessels passed under our stern and stood on
their way, our band gave them in its best style, “God save the Queen!”
At one o’clock in the day we were boarded by a native pilot, who
brought from the consul at Singapore a letter-bag for us. It was the
first news we had gotten directly, since leaving the United States,
then out eighty days, and almost antipodal to our homes, and no one but
he who has experienced it can appreciate fully the joy of getting a
letter at such a time. It was the first that had come to me away from
my own land, and I could have hallooed.
In the afternoon we rounded in among some beautiful islands, standing
like verdure indexes to the harbor, and soon after anchored in the
English free port of Singapore, about two miles from the shore.
And first the boats—yes, the boats. There are no more characteristic
things of a people than their water vehicles. The enormous “Himalaya”
steamship is the card that Great Britain sends out upon the ocean; the
magnificent clipper-ships of our own America, as they ride at anchor in
the “gorgeous East,” or the world over, as impatient steeds to break
their tether, not in comparison, but outstripping by contrast far the
naval architecture of any other people, do not evince the onward and
upward march of the United States, more fully than does the stupid,
cumbersome, unsightly junk, show the _inertia_ of the opinionated
Mongolian.
The Malay boats around the ship soon after we arrived, were most
symmetrical in proportion, and pretty to look at. They are “dug-outs,”
rather crank, but beautifully and sharply modelled. The song of the
native rowers is quite strange, and far from unpleasing. The man who
sits behind you in the sharp stern, steering with a paddle, pitches his
voice, and gives the key-note of the “barbaric pearl” ditty (that is,
I supposed, it must have been something about barbaric pearls), goes
on with the burden, and the two rowers amidships, rather indifferent
to the fact that the unsteadiness of their boat does not suit you,
musically chorus, “A—lah! A—lah! El—lel—la!” Their larger boats
called prahus, with their graceful latine sails, move with great
rapidity through the water, and are said to be as elegantly modelled
as any yacht “America.” Indeed, some are of the opinion that the fast
modern pleasure-boat, owes its origin to the prahus of the Malay.
Thackeray, in his “Cornhill to Cairo,” has most pleasantly and truly
described the keen relish which is afforded to travel if one could be
taken up, and suddenly translated—or immersed as it were—among a
people entirely different in complexion, habit, and costume, from his
own. Unfortunately you are deprived of this in the East; your arrival
at one place is continually anticipating another; and so at Singapore,
most unwillingly, you get too large a slice of the picture, too much
foretaste of the grand “central,” “celestial,” “flowery,” “middle
kingdom,” though in a few days’ run of China. The first thing that met
our gaze, laying in shore of us, their unsightly masts unshipped, their
large sails under cover, their high stems and decks in the shadow of
mats and bamboo, waiting for a change of the monsoon that they might
go back to Quangtung or Fungching, were moored the ungainly Chinese
junks. Of course, as is invariably the case, even on their smaller
boats, from either side of the square bow peers the big painted eye;
and if the stranger should be curious enough to inquire why they
are put there, the matter-of-fact Chinaman, with a “Hy-yah,”—more
expressive than the shoulder shrug of the Frenchman—would make answer,
“No hab eye, how can see?”
On landing, the Chinese features of the place are found to predominate
over all others, though the population of the town is also composed
of English merchants, Malays, Arabs, Jews, Parsees, Hindoos, &c.,
amounting in all to about forty thousand. You no sooner put foot on the
stairs that lead from the little bridged river, which equally divides
the city, than your ears are filled with the interminable banging of
gongs, more terrific than those which broke on the tympanum of Mr.
Benjamin Bowbell when he was going to be buried alive with an Eastern
princess. If a Chinese funeral is progressing, the gong is heard, if
some mart has just been opened, or a public sale is to take place, beat
the gong, and at sundown from the junk, “Joss” is “chin-chinn’d” by
gong-beating. The streets present a scene of much bustle and activity,
and traversing them are the most grotesque and picturesque oriental
costumes—the large tassel pendent from the Fez cap of the Parsee, of
as bright a scarlet, or his loose vest of as deep a blue, and the
handle of his pipe just as long, as others that I had seen at prior
places.
On the eastern side of the town, fronting on a fine parade or drive,
are the residences principally of the Europeans, with the exception
of some who have their bungaloes near the suburbs. Here are also
situated government-offices, a very plain-looking Protestant church,
whose swinging fans mitigate the intense heat to the worshipping
congregation; a very fine hotel, under whose pleasant mahogany—located
in arbored buildings, kept cool by moving punkas—we so agreeably
placed our knees, to enjoy fine fruits, and for a time, keep from the
rays of a torrid sun; and a pyramidal column, whose inscription tells
in English, Arabic, and Hindostanee, how grateful the people there
resident are for the service rendered them, while a prominent member of
the East India Company’s government, by one Earl Dalhousie. He may be a
scion of Pope’s
“Next comes Dalhousie,” &c.
On the esplanade, when the sun pales his fire in the evening, a
tesselated group composed of the juvenile cockney, the Cingalese, the
Parsee, and, of course, “John Chinaman,” take their evening promenade,
while the wealthier natives who have been snoozing all day come out in
their gigs for a drive. Those of more moderate pretensions, who can
muster a halfrupee, get into a palanquin—pronounced _palankee_—for
the purpose. These are small four-wheeled vehicles with mat cushions,
capable of holding four persons. The turbaned and waist-scarfed
Lascar driver, though he has a seat apportioned him, and sufficient
reins, prefers coiling them over his arms, takes his little horse by
the cheek of the bit, and running beside him, continually encourages
him into a gallop. Some meddling English, with accompanying mistaken
philanthropy, endeavored to get an order passed by which the dear syces
should be made to save themselves fatigue and ride on their seats,
but the dear syces preferred their old custom, and protested strongly
against any such innovation. About a mile from the settlement are a
large collection of houses occupied by the Malays, who, although under
the protection of the English, still continue their custom of building
their houses over the water, elevated on posts and separately, that
they may feel freer from attack, or the visits of live animals. These
latter they have not much to dread now. Singapore is on an island
separated from the main land by a narrow strip of water, and tigers
sometimes swim over, but they are soon despatched, as the government
pays a reward of a hundred dollars for each one killed. On my ride to
this point I passed some tombs of former rajahs, and also saw a number
of wooden houses that were being fitted up for shipment to Australia.
We stopped at a factory where that pleasant farina, sago, was being
prepared. It is made from the pith of a tree; is first placed in vats
that it may become dissolved, then exposed to the sun to dry, after
which any foreign substance is removed by sifting, when it is packed,
ready for exportation, at three dollars and sixty cents per pecul. The
proprietor was a very polite and good-natured old Chinaman; by-the-by,
nearly all Chinamen are very good-natured: kick “John Chinaman,” and
smile as you do it, and he will smile too; do it with a frown, and he
becomes very indignant. The old fellow had the customary number of
hogs, whose quarters, whatever may be said of the want of cleanliness
of their celestial owner’s house, receive great attention.
Not far from here we went through the ward of a hospital for English
sailors, and also another for Chinese, whose inmates were lying on
elevated and inclined shelves, the victims of every terrible disease of
the climate.
The Joss-house at Singapore is as fine, though it may be not as
large, as any to be seen in China. An elaborately-designed and
gaudily-ornamented pagoda, of colored porcelain, rises from its centre;
its doorway is guarded by two gorgons dire, in a sitting posture, in
whose snarling mouths large balls have been ingeniously carved, so that
you may place your hand between the teeth and roll them about, yet the
whole is cut from a block of blue flinty granite. The court and alley
are paved with colored porcelain tiles, while the altar and the sleepy
idol that fills its rear, are decorated expensively and fantastically.
One of the wings of this temple, from which issued a more cook-shop
than savory smell, I noticed was appropriated as a kind of popular
restaurant, and filled with Chinamen down to the lower cooly, all
seated at small tables, uttering their mushy jargon, and bolting with
chop-sticks the boiled paddy. Their proximity to their “Joss-pigeon”
neither restrained their appetites nor their noisiness. “John Chinaman”
will tell you that “Joss” (a word which they are supposed to have
gotten by a corruption of “Dios” from their Portuguese neighbors at
Macao) is a very good man, but that there is no reason why he should
have a large temple all to himself. Opposite the temple I saw the first
Chinese “Sing-Song,” a street-theatre, made by the elevation of a
staging of bamboos covered with mats. Upon “these our players,” gaudily
attired, and accompanied by caterwauling instruments and “tom-toms,”
appear to the infinite delight of their street auditors, who guffaw
loud their approval, as they stand protected from the sun under their
paper umbrellas.
At Singapore is the prison in which nearly all the convicts from
the possessions of the English are confined, and a collection of
more villanous visages could not be met with in the walls of any
other jail. Those who have been convicted of murder, have the word
“Doomga”—Hindostanee for their crime— branded on their forehead.
Those who have been guilty of lesser offences are put into chain-gangs,
and made to keep the road in order. There was one inmate, in the person
of a negro, from Long Island, who had been sentenced for fifteen years.
Singapore was established by the English as a competitor for the trade
of the Dutch at Batavia, in the East Indian Archipelago, and being
declared a free port, has accomplished the desired result to a very
great degree. Numbers of prahus, that can play pirating or trading
as the opportunity presents, come there, bringing their commodities,
but principally that they may get powder and shot, to play Lambro
with neighboring Dyaks. It was founded in 1819, and settled with
the consent of the rajah of Johore, a part of whose possessions it
was. This rajah still receives a large annuity from the English, and
resides in the vicinity of the place. With a friend I drove out to his
place. The building was a plain one, fronted with a verandah, and the
entrance ornamented with two little brass howitzers. We were received
by the rajah’s son, who spoke a little English. He was gaudily attired
in turban made by wrapping a parti-colored kerchief about the head,
from his side hung a handsomely-mounted dagger, and he also sported
a fine gold watch. His features were quite handsome for a Malay. We
were ushered into an upper room, at one end of which, on a sofa, with
his feet drawn up under him, similarly attired with himself, sat his
father the rajah, and his brother whom we understood to be a “sultan”
of some neighboring province or country. On the table in front of them
lay their krisses, the hilts inlaid with costly jewels. They were
quite jolly-looking old fellows, and had a great many questions to ask
about the mission on which our ship was bound, &c., but the defective
translation of his son made the business of answering a slow one.
Before leaving him he caused tea and sweetmeats to be brought in, and
joined us quite sociably. The next day his son paid us a visit aboard
ship.
On the 29th of March, we left Singapore, and in a short time were
heading our course in the China sea. On the 2d of April the heat became
very oppressive. What little breeze moved on the water was aft, and
the steamer moving faster than it, the windsails which led to the
lower quarters of the ship afforded no comfort, and hung collapsed
from their halyard. Some of our firemen; whose duties always severely
onerous, but particularly so in those burning latitudes, fainted as
they stood in the fire-room while feeding their furnaces. Such is the
exhausting effect of the climate on those engaged by the peninsular and
oriental steamers, that engineers and firemen, it is said, are rotated
at intervals, with those engaged on the more healthy part of the route
on the other side of the isthmus of Suez. The greatest mortality among
them arises from diseases of the liver.
“All Fools’ Day” is not forgotten on shipboard. The better to remember
it in the younger messes, it is set apart for the celebration of the
caterer’s birthday (of course the caterer is born on that day); the
table is spread in the best way, and not until the caterer’s health
has been proposed in sherry—“a bumpers and no heel-taps”—and the
wine-glasses emptied, does the choking sensation remind the uninitiated
that he has bolted a wine-glass of rather strong whiskey.
In two or three days the weather suddenly changed to blanket
temperature; we ran into a heavy head sea; the spray was chilly, and
the sun sank as if in the cold gray of autumn. On the morning of the
6th April, the Ladrone islands appeared in sight, and we ran into
a fleet of some three hundred Chinese fishing boats—we were off
the shores of the Middle Kingdom. The sight of these awkward boats,
with their build, showing what travellers to Cathay have called the
celestial propensity to “reverse” everything, was an interesting one.
But why say the Chinese reverse? They had a national existence, when
these our moderns were not even in embryo; their laws had an existence
long before the code of Lycurgus was promulged, and their hieroglyphic
record goes away back to a period which our own sacred revelation does
not compass, so it is we who reverse. John Chinaman knows that though
the stern of his boat is broad and high; that its bow runs wedge-like
and low; that his masts, instead of raking aft, lean forward; and if
his boat, under sail, look as if she was going to run under, still
that she has borne him safely when many a “ty-fung” blew. We wished
a pilot, but in answer to the inquiry whether any could furnish one,
they nodded assent, and held up fish and some rice. The weather being
thick we ran in under one of the Ladrones and anchored for the night
in thirty fathoms water, and fired a gun for a pilot. The next morning
at daybreak, we ran in and anchored in the roadstead of the old
Portuguese city of Macao, about four miles from the shore. Though the
turbid water all around, and the naked islands that encompassed the
anchorage, did not afford a prospect calculated to prepossess one with
his first glance at the “Flowery Kingdom,” still we had a feeling of
gladness that after an almost uninterrupted run of over four months we
had reached our goal, or the region which was to be the theatre of our
movements—yes, for months.
Our stoppage was short; after communicating with the navy store-keeper
and the authorities ashore, receiving an official visit from the
Portuguese captain of the port, and procuring a Chinese pilot, we
lifted anchor, and stood over for the more flourishing English colonial
town of Hong Kong. We reached this place after doubling through denuded
steep islands, about seven o’clock in the evening. The ships of the
East India squadron lying in the harbor, who having had some intimation
of our proximity to the station by the mail-steamers from Ceylon, were
on the _qui vive_ for our approach. The old Mississippi, with the broad
pennant at her masthead, no sooner emerged from behind the western
point of the island, than the “Saratoga” and “Plymouth” sloops-of-war
hoisted their numbers and saluted. The storeship, “Supply,” we also
found there. Our ship was soon filled by brother American officers from
the other ships, come to salute and welcome old friends, and hoping
that the mail-bags we had from the United States, had brought each one
“good news from home.” The meetings were so joyous and so cordial that
we did not remember that they were taking place on the other side of
the globe. Officers from the English and French men-of-war also came
aboard to pay their respects.
The oriental salute seldom consists of more than three guns, and
many of the natives of the East are unable to see why this number
should be fired; they can not comprehend why you should burn in
compliment the same material, which you would employ in sending deadly
missiles at them, if in anger. But we, Christian nations, manage
things differently; and the next day after our arrival told it: from
the rising to the setting of the sun nearly, it was powder burning.
Upon hoisting the colors at eight o’clock we saluted the town with
twenty-one guns, and twenty-one were returned by a water-battery; the
French saluted us and we saluted them; then came the admiral and
commodorial salutes, English and French, which were returned in the old
style by letting fall fore-top sails the while; and so that day the
noise of one hundred and seventy-nine guns, broke and tumbled along the
naked hills of Hong Kong, with nearly as splendid an effect as at St.
Helena.
The harbor of Hong Kong is a very commodious and well-sheltered one,
in the shape of a half-moon, and its three entrances of Green Island,
Cap-sing-moon, and Lymoon passages, can not be seen from its centre.
On a shelf which makes a circular sweep, cut at the base of towering
volcanic hills, is built the town named in honor of the present
sovereign of Great Britain. Victoria, from the water, presents a fine
appearance, with its stuccoed warehouses, or “go-downs,” at the beach,
and the private residences and churches rising from plateaus made by
immense labor above; and the massive stone government offices and
barracks that appear on the left, tell how firmly the English plant
their foot in the East, and how triumph, with them, is synonymous
with occupancy of a slice of an enemy’s territory. This colony is the
result of their opium war in China. Our stay was short: the commodore
despatched the “Plymouth” to Shanghae, and, in the Mississippi, ran
over to Macao, an inland run of thirty-nine miles.