Filipino. This Style of
House, With Bamboo
Frame and Thatched
Sides and Roof of Nipa
Grass, Costs About
Fifty Mex. or Twenty-Five
Dollars in United
States Gold Coin. It
Is Usually About
Six Feet From the
Ground]
HONGKONG,
CANTON, SINGAPORE
AND RANGOON
HONGKONG, THE GREATEST BRITISH PORT IN THE ORIENT
The entrance to the harbor of Hongkong is one of the most impressive in
the world. The steamer runs along by the mainland for several miles.
Then a great island is descried, covered with smelting works, huge
dockyards, great warehouses and other evidences of commercial activity.
This is the lower end of the island of Victoria, on which the city of
Hongkong has been built. The island was ceded by China to Great Britain
in 1842, after the conclusion of the opium war. It is separated from the
mainland of China by an arm of the sea, varying from one mile to five
miles in width. This forms the harbor of Hongkong, one of the most
spacious and picturesque in the world. It is crowded with steamers,
ferryboats, Chinese junks with queer-shaped sails of yellow matting,
sampans, trim steam launches and various other craft. As the vessel
passes beyond the smelting works and the dry docks it rounds a point and
the beauty of Hongkong is revealed.
The city is built at the foot of a steep hill nearly two thousand feet
in height. Along the crescent harbor front are ranged massive business
buildings with colonaded fronts and rows of windows. Behind the business
section the hills rise so abruptly that many of the streets are seen to
be merely rows of granite stairs. Still farther back are the homes of
Hongkong residents, beautiful stone or brick structures, which look out
upon the busy harbor. With a glass one can make out the cable railroad
which climbs straight up the mountainside for over one thousand feet and
then turns sharply to the right until the station is reached, about
thirteen hundred feet above sea level.
Hongkong differs radically from Yokohama, Tokio, Kobe, Nagasaki or
Manila, because of the blocks of solid, granite-faced buildings that
line its water front, each with its rows of Venetian windows, recessed
in balconies. This is the prevailing architecture for hotels, business
buildings and residences, while dignity is lent to every structure by
the enormous height between stories, the average being from fifteen to
eighteen feet. This impression of loftiness is increased by the use of
the French window, which extends from the floor almost to the ceiling,
all the windows being provided with large transoms.
The feature of Hongkong which impresses the stranger the most vividly is
the great mixture of races in the streets. Here for the first time one
finds the sedan chair, with two or four bearers. It is used largely in
Hongkong for climbing the steep streets which are impossible for the
jinrikisha. The bearers are low-class coolies from the country, whose
rough gait makes riding in a chair the nearest approach to horseback
exercise. The jinrikisha is also largely in evidence, but the bearers
are a great contrast in their rapacious manners to the courteous and
smiling Japanese in all the cities of the Mikado's land.
Queen's road, the main business street of Hongkong, furnishes an
extraordinary spectacle at any hour of the day. The roadway is lined
with shops, while the sidewalks, covered by the verandas of the second
stories of the buildings, form a virtual arcade, protected from the
fierce rays of the sun. These shops are mainly designed to catch the eye
of the foreigner, and they are filled with a remarkable collection of
silks, linens, ivories, carvings and other articles that appeal to the
American because of the skilled labor that has been expended upon them.
Carvings and embroidery that represent the work of months are sold at
such low prices as to make one marvel how anyone can afford to produce
them even in this land of cheap living.
The crowd that streams past these shops is even more curious than the
goods offered for sale. Here East and West meet in daily association.
The Englishman is easily recognized by his air of proprietorship,
although his usual high color is somewhat reduced by the climate. He has
stamped his personality on Hongkong and he has builded here for
generations to come. The German is liberally represented, and old
Hongkong residents bewail the fact that every year sees a larger number
of Emperor William's subjects intent on wresting trade from the British.
Frenchmen and other Europeans pass along this Queen's road, and the
American tourist is in evidence, intent on seeing all the sights as well
as securing the best bargains from the shopkeepers. All these foreigners
have modified their garb to suit the climate. They wear suits of white
linen or pongee with soft shirts, and the solar topi, or pith helmet,
which is a necessity in summer and a great comfort at other seasons. The
helmet keeps the head cool and shelters the nape of the neck, which
cannot be exposed safely to the sun's rays. Instead of giving health as
the California sun does, this Hongkong sunshine brings heat apoplexy and
fever. All the Orient is represented by interesting types. Here are rich
Chinese merchants going by in private chairs, with bearers in handsome
silk livery; Parsees from Bombay, with skins almost as black as those of
the American negro; natives of other parts of India in their
characteristic dress and their varying turbans; Sikh policemen, tall,
powerful men, who have a lordly walk and who beat and kick the Chinese
chair coolies and rickshaw men when they prove too insistent or
rapacious; Chinese of all classes, from the prosperous merchant to the
wretched coolie whose prominent ribs show how near he lives to actual
starvation in this overcrowded land; workmen of all kinds, many bearing
their tools, and swarms of peddlers and vendors of food, crying their
wares, with scores of children, many of whom lead blind beggars.
Everywhere is the noise of many people shouting lustily, the cries of
chair coolies warning the passersby to clear the way for their
illustrious patrons.
The Chinese seem unable to do anything without an enormous expenditure
of talk and noise. Ordinary bargaining looks like the beginning of a
fierce fight. Any trifling accident attracts a great crowd, which
becomes excited at the slightest provocation. It is easy to see from an
ordinary walk in this Hongkong street how panic or rage may convert the
stolid Chinese into a deadly maniac, who will stop at no outburst of
violence, no atrocity, that will serve to wreak his hatred of the
foreigner.
Although Hongkong has been Europeanized in its main streets, there are
quarters of the city only a few blocks away from the big hotels and
banks which give one glimpses of genuine native life. Some of these
streets are reached by scores of granite steps that climb the steep
mountainside. These streets are not over twelve or fifteen feet wide,
and the shops are mere holes in the wall, with a frontage of eight or
ten feet. Yet many of these dingy shops contain thousands of dollars'
worth of decorated silks and linens, artistic carvings, laces, curios
and many other articles of Chinese manufacture. Unlike the Japanese, who
will follow the tourist to the sidewalk and urge him to buy, these
Chinese storekeepers show no eagerness to make sales. They must be urged
to display their fine goods, and they cannot be hurried. The best time
to see these native streets is at night. Take a chair if the climate
overpowers you, but walk if you can. Then a night stroll through this
teeming quarter will always remain in the memory. Every one is working
hard, as in Japan, for the Chinese workday seems endless. All kinds of
manufacture are being carried on here in these narrow little shops; the
workers are generally stripped to the waist, wearing only loose short
trousers of cheap blue or brown cotton, the lamplight gleaming on their
sweating bodies. Here are goldsmiths beating out the jewelry for which
Hongkong is famous; next are scores of shops in all of which shoes are
being made; then follow workers in willow-ware and rattan, makers of
hats, furniture and hundreds of other articles. In every block is an
eating-house, with rows of natives squatted on benches, and with large
kettles full of evil-smelling messes. The crowds in the streets vie with
the crowds in the stores in the noise that they make; the air reeks with
the odors of sweating men, the smell of unsavory food, the stench of
open gutters. This panorama of naked bodies, of wild-eyed yellow faces
drawn with fatigue and heat passes before ones' eyes for an hour. Then
the senses begin to reel and it is time to leave this scene of Oriental
life that is far lower and more repulsive than the most crowded streets
in the terrible East Side tenement quarter of New York on a midsummer
night.
Hongkong, both in the European and native quarters, is built to endure
for centuries. Most of the houses are of granite or plastered brick. The
streets are paved with granite slabs. Even the private residences have
massive walls and heavy roofs of red or black tile; the gardens are
screened from the street by high walls, with broken glass worked into
the mortar that forms the coping and with tall iron entrance gates.
These residences dot the side hill above the town. They are built upon
terraces, which include the family tennis court. The roads wind around
the mountainside, many of them quarried out of solid rock. All the
building material of these houses had to be carried up the steep
mountainside by coolies and, until the cable railway was finished, the
dwellers were borne to their homes at night by chair coolies.
This cable railway carries one nearly to the top of the peak back of
Hongkong, and from the station a short walk brings one to the summit,
where a wireless station is used to flash arrivals of vessels to the
city below. The view from this summit, and from the splendid winding
road which leads to the Peak Hospital, not far away, is one of the
finest in the world. The harbor, dotted with many ships and small boats,
the indented coast for a score of miles, the bare and forbidding Chinese
territory across the bay, the big city at the foot of the hill; all
these are spread out below like a great panorama.
The British are firmly entrenched at Hongkong. Not only have they actual
ownership of Victoria Island, on which Hongkong is built, but they have
a perpetual lease of a strip of the mainland across from the island,
extending back for over one hundred miles. The native city across the
bay is Kowloon, and is reached by a short ride on the new railroad
which will eventually connect Hankow with Paris. On the barren shore,
about a mile from Hongkong, has been founded the European settlement of
Kowloon City. It comprises a row of large warehouses, or godowns, a big
naval victualling station and coaling depot, large barracks for two
regiments of Indian infantry and several companies of Indian artillery,
with many fine quarters for European officers. The city in recent years
has become a favorite residence place for Hongkong business men, as it
is reached in a few minutes by a good ferry. Near by are the great naval
docks at Hunghom, extensive cement works and the deepest railway cut in
the world, the material being used to fill in the bay of Hunghom.
A VISIT TO CANTON IN DAYS OF WILD PANIC
Every traveler who has seen the Orient will tell you not to miss Canton,
the greatest business center of China, the most remarkable city of the
empire, and among the most interesting cities of the world. It is only a
little over eighty miles from Hongkong, and if one wishes to save time
it may be reached by a night boat.
While in Manila I heard very disturbing reports of rioting in Canton and
possible bloodshed in the contest between the Manchus in control of the
army and the revolutionists. This rioting followed the assassination of
the Tartar general, who was blown up, with a score of his bodyguard, as
he was formally entering the city by the main south gate. When Hongkong
was reached these rumors of trouble became more persistent, and they
were given point by the arrival every day by boat and train of thousands
of refugees from Canton. Every day the bulletin boards in the Chinese
quarter contained dispatches from Canton, around which a swarm of
excited coolies gathered and discussed the news. One night came the news
that the Viceroy had acknowledged the revolutionists and had agreed to
surrender on the following day. This report was received with great
enthusiasm, and hundreds of dollars' worth of firecrackers were burned
to celebrate the success of the new national movement.
That night I left Hongkong on the Quong Si, one of the Chinese boats
that ply between Hongkong and Canton, under the British flag. A
half-dozen American tourists were also on the boat, including several
ladies.
The trip up the estuary of the Pearl river that leads to Canton was made
without incident, and the boat anchored in the river opposite the
Shameen or foreign concession early in the morning, but the passengers
remained on board until about eight-thirty o'clock. The reports that
came from the shore were not reassuring. Guides who came out in sampans
said that there was only a forlorn hope of getting into the walled city,
as nearly all the gates had been closed for two days. They also brought
the alarming news that the Viceroy had reconsidered his decision of the
previous night and had sent word that he proposed to resist by force any
effort of the revolutionists to capture the city. The flag of the
revolution had also been hauled down and the old familiar yellow
dragon-flag hoisted in its place.
While waiting for the guide to arrange for chairs to take the party
through the city, we had a good opportunity to study the river life
which makes Canton unique among Chinese cities. Out of the total
population of over two millions, at least a quarter of a million live in
boats from birth to death and know no other home. Many of these boats
are large cargo junks which ply up and down the river and bring produce
to the great city market, but the majority are small sampans that house
one Chinese family and that find constant service in transferring
passengers and freight from one side of the river to the other, as well
as to and from the hundreds of steamers that call at the port. They have
a covered cabin into which the family retires at night.
These sampans are mainly rowed by women, who handle the boats with great
skill. A young girl usually plies the short oar on the bow, while her
mother, assisted by the younger children, works the large oar or sweep
in the stern. The middle of the sampan is covered by a bamboo house, and
in the forward part of this house the family has its kitchen fire and
all its arrangements for food. The passenger sits on the after seat near
the stern of the boat. These boats are scrubbed so that the woodwork
shines, and the backs of the seats are covered with fresh matting.
Looking out from the steamer one saw at least two miles of these small
sampans and larger craft massed along both shores of the river, which is
here about a half-mile wide. The foreign concession or Shameen is free
from these boats. It is really a sand spit, surrounded by water, which
was made over to the foreigners after the opium war.
North of the Shameen is the new western suburb of Canton, which has
recently been completed on European lines. It has a handsome bund,
finely paved, with substantial buildings facing the river. Close up
against this bund, and extending down the river bank for at least two
miles are ranged row on row of houseboats. Every few minutes a boat
darts out from the mass and is pulled to one of the ships in the stream.
Across the river and massed against the shore of Honam, the suburb
opposite Canton, is another tangle of sampans, with thousands of active
river folk, all shouting and screaming. These yellow thousands toiling
from break of day to late at night do not seem human; yet each boat has
its family life. The younger children are tied so that they cannot fall
overboard, and the older ones wear ingenious floats which will buoy
them up should they tumble into the water. Boys and girls four or five
years old assist in the working of the boat, while girls of twelve or
fourteen are experts in handling the oar and in using the long bamboo
boat hook that serves to carry the small craft out of the tangle of
river activity.
[Illustration:
The City of Boats at
Canton. This Floating
City in the Pearl
River Opposite Canton
Contains 250,000
People, Many of Whom
Never Venture
On Land]
A type of river steamer which will amaze the American is an old
stern-wheeler run by man power. It is provided with a treadmill just
forward of the big stern wheel. Two or three tiers of naked, perspiring
coolies are working this treadmill, all moving with the accuracy and
precision of machinery. The irreverent foreigner calls these the
"hotfoot" boats, and in the land where a coolie may be hired all day for
forty cents Mexican or twenty cents in our coin this human power is far
cheaper than soft coal at five dollars a ton. These boats carry freight
and passengers and they move along at a lively pace.
After an hour spent in study of this strange river life I was fortunate
enough to go ashore with an American missionary whose husband was
connected with a large college across the river from Canton. She came
aboard in a sampan to take ashore two ladies from Los Angeles. She
invited me to accompany the party, and as she spoke Chinese fluently I
was glad to accept her offer. We went ashore in a sampan and at once
proceeded to visit the western suburb. This part of Canton has been
built in recent years and is somewhat cleaner than the old town. It is
separated from the Shameen by bridges which may be drawn up like an
ancient portcullis. Here we at once plunged into the thick of native
life. The streets, not over ten feet wide, were crowded with people.
We passed through streets devoted wholly to markets and restaurants, and
the spectacle was enough to keep one from ever indulging hereafter in
chop-suey. Here were tables spread with the intestines of various
animals, pork in every form, chickens and ducks, roasted and covered
with some preparation that made them look as though just varnished. Here
were many strange vegetables and fruits, and here, hung against the
wall, were row on row of dried rats. At a neighboring stall were several
small, flat tubs, in which live fish swam about, waiting for a customer
to order them knocked on the head. Then we passed into a street of curio
shops, but the grill work in front was closed and behind could be seen
the timid proprietors, who evidently did not mean to take any chances of
having their stores looted by robbers. For three or four days the most
valuable goods in all the Canton stores had been removed as rapidly as
possible. Thousands of bales of silk and tons of rare curios were
already safe in the foreign warehouses at the Shameen or had been
carried down the river to Hongkong. Often we had to flatten ourselves
against the sides of the street to give passage to chairs containing
high-class Chinese and their families, followed by coolies bearing the
most valuable of their possessions packed in cedar chests.
At an American hospital we were met by several young Englishmen
connected with medical and Young Men's Christian Association work. They
proposed a trip through the old walled city, but they refused to take
the two ladies, as they said it would be dangerous in the excited
condition of the people. So we set out, five in number. After a short
walk we reached one of the gates of the walled city, only to find it
closed and locked. A short walk brought us to a second gate, which was
opened readily by the Chinese guards, armed with a new type of German
army rifle. The walls of the old city were fully ten feet thick where
we entered, and about twenty feet high, made of large slabs of granite.
Once inside the city walls a great surprise awaited us. Instead of
crowded streets and the hum of trade were deserted streets, closed shops
and absolute desolation. For blocks the only persons seen were soldiers
and refugees making their way to the gates. In one fine residence
quarter an occasional woman peered through the front gates; in other
sections all the houses were closed and barred. Soon we reached the
Buddhist temple, known as the Temple of Horrors. Around the central
courtyard are grouped a series of booths, in each of which are wooden
figures representing the torture of those who commit deadly sins. In one
booth a victim is being sawed in two; in others poor wretches are being
garroted, boiled in oil, broken on the wheel and subjected to many other
ingenious tortures. At one end is an elaborate joss-house, with a great
bronze bell near by. In normal conditions this temple is crowded, and
true believers buy slips of prayers, which they throw into the booths to
ward off ill luck.
The rush of refugees grew greater as we penetrated toward the heart of
the city. On the main curio street the huge gilded signs hung as if in
mockery above shops which had been stripped of all their treasures.
Occasionally a restaurant remained open and these were crowded with
chair coolies, who were waiting to be engaged by some merchant eager to
escape from the city. Gone was all the life and bustle that my
companions said made this the most remarkable street in Canton. It was
like walking through a city of the dead, and it bore a striking
resemblance to San Francisco's business district on the day of the great
fire. At intervals we passed the yamens of magistrates, but the guards
and attaches were enjoying a vacation, as no court proceedings were
held. Progress became more and more difficult as the rush of refugees
increased and returning chair coolies clamored for passageway. The
latter had taken parties to the river boats and were coming back for
more passengers. As it became evident that we could not see the normal
life of the city, my companions finally urged that we return, as they
feared the gates might be closed against us, so we retraced our way,
this time taking the main street which led to the great south gate.
Not far from the gate we came on the scene of the blowing up of the
Tartar general. Seven shops on both sides of the street were wrecked by
the explosion. The heavy fronts were partly intact, but the interiors
were a mass of brick and charred timbers, for fire followed the
explosion. The general had waited several months to allow the political
excitement that followed his appointment to subside. He felt safe in
entering the city with a strong bodyguard, but not over one hundred
yards from the gate a bomb was thrown which killed the general
instantly, mangled a score of his retainers and killed over a dozen
Chinese bystanders. The revolutionists tried to clear the street so that
none of their own people should suffer, but they failed because of the
curiosity of the crowd.
Near by this place is the old Buddhist water clock, which for five
hundred years has marked the time by the drip of water from a hidden
spring. The masonry of this water-clock building looks very ancient, and
the clock is reached by several long flights of granite stairs.
After viewing the clock we reached the wall and passed through the big
south gates, which are fully six inches thick, of massive iron, studded
with large nails. Outside on the bund were drawn up several rapid-fire
guns belonging to Admiral Li, the efficient head of the Chinese navy at
Canton, who also had a score of trim little gunboats patrolling the
river. These boats had rapid-fire guns at bow and stern.
So we came back to the Canton hospital, where we had luncheon. After
this I made my way back to the steamer, to find her crowded with over
one thousand refugees from the old city, with their belongings. The
decks and even the dining saloon were choked with these people, and
during the two hours before the boat sailed at least three hundred more
passengers were taken on board. We sailed in the late afternoon and were
followed by four other river steamers, carrying in all over six thousand
refugees.
SINGAPORE THE MEETING PLACE OF MANY RACES