IN THE WORLD'S MOST MARVELLOUS CITY
Stunned by the terrible news he had just heard, Rob sat silent, trying
to think of all that it meant to him, while his new acquaintance,
shocked at the unexpected result of his chance remark, tried in vain
to console him. It might not be so bad as reported, he said, for such
things always were exaggerated. Probably, Rob would find that his
parents had escaped and were safe in Canton. Perhaps the massacre had
extended only to native Christians, as often was the case; or, it was
more than likely that the Hinckleys had been warned of the outbreak in
time to leave Wu Hsing before it took place.
"They couldn't leave," answered Rob, "for my father was too ill to
travel." Then, wishing to be alone with his great sorrow, the lad
abruptly rose and went to his state-room, which he did not again leave
that night.
As it was not advisable for the steamer to reach Canton before sunrise,
she stopped about ten o'clock and remained at anchor until daybreak,
when she again was got under way. An hour later Rob was wakened from a
troubled dream of fighting, killing, and burning by such a confusion
of yells, splashings, and other strange sounds that he rushed out on
deck with the idea that his dream had become a reality. Once in the open
he gazed upon a scene unique and unparalleled. The steamer was slowly
making her way against the swift current of a turbid river, along the
water-front of the most marvellous city in all the world. She was moving
amid a vast collection of floating craft, from fine, English-built
Chinese war-ships and foreign gun-boats down through junks of all sizes,
stern-wheel "kick-boats" propelled by man-power, gorgeous mandarin-boats
gay with fluttering flags, house-boats, flower-boats--which are floating
palaces in which men of wealth give expensive dinners--silk-boats,
rice-boats, and produce-barges from up-river; fishing-boats, duck-boats,
long, slender--paddling-canoes known as snake-boats, besides thousands
of sampans and slipper-boats, that ply for hire in any capacity, and on
which half a million of people are born, live, and die, in many cases
without ever setting foot on land.
So poor are these sampan dwellers, and so greatly is the supply of
their labor in excess of the demand for it, that they struggle with
one another for the chance of making even a single "cash," which is
valued at one-tenth of a penny. In the present instance scores of
sampans, propelled by sweeps or sculling-oars, were racing towards
the _Fatshan_, their occupants screaming, gesticulating, firing off
crackers, and beating gongs to attract the attention of her passengers.
All these craft looked exactly alike, and were about twenty-five feet
long by eight feet wide. Each had a small, open deck forward, on
which a man, standing and facing the bow, rowed with a pair of sweeps.
There was an arch-roofed house amidships, and aft of it a covered deck
occupied by a woman, who worked a long sculling-oar, by means of which
she both steered and propelled the light craft. Not one of these boats
was painted, but all were colored alike with pungent smelling Ning-Po
varnish.
From every sampan peered round-faced, solemn-eyed children, boys and
girls, all wearing pig-tails and dressed alike, and looking alike,
except that the smaller boys generally had bladders, squares of cork, or
billets of a light wood fastened to their shoulders to keep them afloat
in case they fell overboard. The girls were held to be of so much less
value that for them life-preservers were not thought of. Whenever these
children were more than four or five years old they helped, or attempted
to help, their parents with the oars, while those of younger age took
care of the babies.
In the rush towards the steamer of these queer-looking and queerly
manned craft they were in constant collision, smashing recklessly
together, apparently striving to overturn one another, or to push their
rivals out of the way. If one succeeded in making fast, others would
hold on to her until the single grass-plaited rope would break, and all
would be swept astern in the swift current, their crews screaming and
shaking fists at one another as they went.
It was bedlam and babel, sea-fights and water-sports, commercial rivalry
and insanity, all mixed into one grand helter-skelter of confusion; and
yet, so far as the interested spectators could note, no one was drowned,
nor even hurt, though, apparently, no one would have cared a snap if
every one else had come to serious grief.
The Chinese passengers from the lower deck of the _Fatshan_ swarmed into
such sampans as succeeded in making fast, their queer-looking luggage,
done up in matting, was pitched after them, and away they went as
though each second was too precious to be wasted. Such of the foreign
passengers as were tourists or globe-trotters, visiting Canton out of
curiosity, were engaging guides to show them the sights of the wonderful
city, and arranging for sedan-chairs, in which they were to be borne on
the shoulders of coolies through its endless miles of swarming streets.
There are no wheeled vehicles in these granite-paved thoroughfares,
and no beasts of burden, for the broadest and most important street
of Canton is but eight feet wide, while in most of them a tall man
standing in the middle may touch the houses on either side with his
extended finger-tips. From these threadlike passages, packed with
blue-clad, yellow-visaged humanity, and reeking with filth, open the
narrow portals of shops whose contents would dazzle an Aladdin. Each
dim doorway is barred against the entrance by a tiny altar, from which
ascends, never-endingly, the incense of smouldering joss-sticks; but
once the uninviting entrance has been passed, the visitor finds himself
in another world.
The interior is scrupulously clean, and its perfumed atmosphere is
that of quiet elegance. He is met by smiling attendants clad in silken
garments and shod with noiseless felt, who bow profoundly before him,
at the same time cordially shaking their own hands in token of welcome.
They invite him to be seated in wonderfully carved chairs, lined with
silken cushions, and darkly lustrous with the polish of ages. Tiny
tables of marvellous inlay are set before him, and from them he is
invited to drink of amber-colored tea served in egg-shell porcelain.
Afterwards the hidden wealth of the establishment is brought forth,
piece by piece, for his inspection, and it is intimated that these
things are for sale, though he never is urged to purchase.
Or he is conducted from room to room, lighted from interior courts
and filled with the most exquisite specimens of human handiwork known
to the world. Here are silk embroideries of a beauty, delicacy, and
texture not found elsewhere, exquisitely carved ivories, startling
designs, boldly executed in lacquer, gold, and silver, jade, crystal,
and precious stones. Here are feather-work and brass-work, priceless
porcelains and cloisonné, softest crêpes and gossamer linens, black
wood furniture graved with the painstaking skill that workmen of the
Western world bestow only upon precious metals. All these things, and
an infinity of others equally desirable, are passed in slow succession
by the deft-handed attendants before the fascinated gaze of the foreign
visitor, until he longs for the wealth of a Croesus, and is only
withheld from purchasing to the full extent of his means by memory of
the grim customs officials who so surely await his homecoming.
From these places where things are sold the sightseer in Canton is
borne away to places where things are made, or to temples, pagodas, and
execution grounds. Perhaps he is permitted to enter the yamen of some
wealthy mandarin, and, merely by passing through an enclosing wall of
buildings, finds himself transferred in a minute from the filth and
squalor of the narrow street, with its swarms of jargon-yelling coolies
and leprous beggars, dimly filtered light and overpowering smells, into
a place of sunlight and clean air, a fairy-land of trees and flowers, of
singing birds, shaded walks, and plashing waters, of quiet and coolness,
strangely attractive architecture--a place of gratified senses and
restful luxury.
But none of these things was for Rob Hinckley--at least, not on this
occasion, for instead of being a sensation-seeking tourist he merely was
a sorrow-stricken lad, friendless in a great, pitiless city, well-nigh
penniless, and desperately uncertain which way to move. He turned sick
with apprehension as he gazed from one side of the steamer to the bund,
or landing-place, where gangs of half-naked coolies grunted and sweated
under their burdens of freight, or from the other to the yelling sampan
crews ready to fight for a cent's worth of patronage. To him they
resembled the myriad occupants of a gigantic ant-hill, and appeared
equally lacking in human sympathies.
Rob was faint from the exhaustion of his almost sleepless and supperless
night, and at length realizing his most pressing need, he sought
breakfast in the saloon. From this he returned to the deck a half-hour
later, refreshed and strengthened, but still as uncertain as ever
regarding his next move. Then all at once his uncertainty vanished, for
the very first object that caught his eye as he stepped outside was that
which is most dear and most beautiful to all Americans, especially when
seen in a foreign land--the flag of the stars and stripes. It was at
some distance up the river, blowing out strong and free, high above the
only clump of trees in view, and besides it no other flag was visible.
In Canton, while most of the greater nations own their legation
buildings, the United States is satisfied to lodge its representative in
rented quarters. To offset this humiliation, so far as lay in his power,
the American consul-general had raised a noble flag-staff, so much
taller than those of his neighbors that the starry banner flown from its
top was the most conspicuous flag in all Canton. Now it waved a friendly
greeting to poor Rob, filling him with renewed hope, and bidding him
come to it for aid in this time of trouble.
Nor did our lad hesitate to accept its invitation; but, noting the
general direction to be taken, he ran down the gang-plank and plunged
boldly into the seething mass of blue-clad humanity thronging the
narrow thoroughfares of China's greatest city. A little later, guided
by occasional glimpses of the flag as he went, he had gained a bridge
spanning a canal that separates the city proper from the Shameen, a
beautiful, tree-shaded island on which stand the foreign legations,
dwellings, and business houses of Canton.
At the city end of this bridge was a barrier having two wrought-iron
gates, one large and one very small. As the latter stood hospitably
open, Rob was about to pass through it when the Chinese gatekeeper
hurriedly flung open the other, at the same time respectfully informing
him that it was reserved for Europeans (all white foreigners in China
are known as Europeans), while the little gate was for the passage of
such natives as are allowed on the Shameen.
The incident was trifling, but it wonderfully restored the
self-confidence of our young American, and as he walked proudly through
the big gate, which was closed with a slam behind him, he felt quite
ready to face and defy the whole Chinese nation. Turning up a shaded and
well-kept walk lined with substantial houses, each standing in its own
grounds, he again sought for a glimpse of the flag, but in vain, for the
foliage above which it waved was so thick as to hide it from below. In
this dilemma Rob approached a gentleman who stood at a front gate, in
company with a group of Chinese, with a view of inquiring his direction
to the American consulate. As he drew near he overheard the gentleman,
who looked like an American, say loudly, slowly, and very distinctly:
"I've told you over and over that I don't understand one word you say,
and unless you can speak English there is no use of your trying to talk
business with me. You wanchee catch one talkee man--sabe?"
"Perhaps I can help you, sir," said Rob, stepping up at that minute. "I
understand and speak some Chinese."
"If you only can and will, I shall be ever so much obliged," replied the
American, "for I am quite sure these fellows have something important to
communicate. But I am a new-comer here, without a word of the lingo, and
our interpreter has not yet put in an appearance this morning."
So Rob talked and interpreted with the result that a few minutes later
the situation in question was fully understood by both parties, and the
Chinese departed quite satisfied.
"If I only could talk it as you do!" said the gentleman, enviously.
"Won't you step inside for a cup of tea?"
"No, I thank you," replied Rob. "I only stopped to inquire my way to the
American consulate. I want to see the consul-general on most important
business."
"Then I am very sorry to say that he has gone to Hong-Kong, and will not
return for a week."
"Oh!" cried Rob; "what shall I do? Perhaps you can tell me something
about a reported massacre of missionaries at Wu Hsing. Did it really
occur?"
"I believe it did, though that was before I came out; but I hope you
hadn't any friends there."
"My father and mother were there."
"You poor fellow! That, indeed, is a bitter blow. May I ask your name?"
"It is Hinckley."
"Not a son of Dr. Mason Hinckley?" inquired the other, eagerly.
"Yes."
"Then you needn't worry any more, for Dr. Hinckley and his wife left for
America just before the outbreak, and are a long way towards the land of
safety by this time."