and ornamented by groups of palms, thatched summer houses, and a
bell-tower, was once the execution ground of Hiogo. A line of
tea-houses cover the brow of the hill, which is also dotted here and
there with orange groves. The streets are lined with curio shops and
jinrikshaws drawn by coolies. Here we spent the Fourth of July; the
men-of-war lying here all dressed in holiday attire, our flag-ship
fired a salute of twenty-one guns. In the afternoon our base-ball
team, accompanied by the band and all those eligible for liberty, went
ashore, where we crossed bats with the Kobe country club, our band
rendering inspiring music during the game. The result was a whitewash
for the country club, who entertained us lavishly at their club-house
in the evening.
After spending two weeks in this city we set out for Yokohama, making
the voyage in thirty hours. After passing the famous light-ship at the
entrance to Yokohama harbor, we were met by the quarantine officials.
Their usual routine of work completed, we steamed into the harbor,
firing a national salute of twenty-one guns, which was returned by the
forts and by the British, French, Italian, and Japanese men-of-war,
our band playing the national airs of the various countries here
represented, the marines presenting arms. Casting anchor near the
French cruiser _Friant_, the usual visits of courtesy were exchanged.
Numerous vessels of the merchant marine of all nations, besides
men-of-war, brigs, yachts, barks, sampans, and junks, were scattered
profusely over the harbor, coming and going, bells rang in chorus
around the anchorage ground, saluting and signal-flags slipped up and
down the masts, while the bang and low-rolling echo of the ship’s guns
made mimic war. At night the harbor dazzles with various colored
lights, while the search-lights of the “men-of-war” illuminate
sections of the city on the heights.
Yokohama lies between immense bluffs, on one of which the stars and
stripes are seen flying over an American hospital. Beyond the bluff
proper stretches the race-course, from which can be seen Fujiyama, or
sacred mountain, which is invested with legends; it is said to have
risen up in a single night, two thousand years ago, and for centuries
pilgrims have toiled up the weary path to pray at the highest shrine
and to supplicate the sun at dawn.
Fujiyama, with the circling storks and ascending dragons, symbolizes
success in life and triumph over obstacles. Until the year 1500 it was
a living volcano. A road leads from “Fuji” to Mississippi Bay, where
Commodore Perry’s ships anchored in 1854.
To the port side lies Kanagawa, well fortified; just beyond is the
grave of Richardson, the Briton who was killed, by the retainers of
the prince of Satsuma in 1862, for deliberately riding into the
daimyo’s train. A memorial stone, inscribed with Japanese characters,
marks the spot where Richardson fell. This cost the Japs the
bombardment of Kagishima and an indemnity of 125,000 pounds.
Near this spot is situated black-eyed Susan’s tea-house, a favorite
resort for tourists. According to one version, “Susan’s strand” is
where the Rip Van Winkle of Japan (Urashima) sailed on an immense
tortoise for the home of the sea king. Yokohama is surrounded by rich
silk districts, orchards, and the most beautiful flowers I have ever
seen. The villages in the suburbs are very picturesque, with narrow
roads and shady paths leading through perpetual scenes of sylvan
beauty: bamboo trees, thatched roofs, and gnarled camphor trees
everywhere charm the eye.
Tokio, the capital, is but eighteen miles from Yokohama. The city is
intensely interesting; Japanese ladies in silk kimonos and straw
sandals, fluttering along the streets like butterflies, invariably
wearing a red carnation in their neatly dressed coal-black hair,
present a pretty sight as they enter and leave their quaint little
tea-houses; you are reminded of the scenes in the Mikado, San Toy, and
Geisha operas. The jinrickshaw man is everywhere in evidence, ready to
convey you to any part of the city; for one yen, or about fifty cents
in American gold, he will haul you around for an entire morning.
The coolies of Japan are superior to those of Ceylon and Singapore in
the power of endurance and intelligence, the former being full of
spirit and animation, while the latter possess that languorous
indifference characteristic of the Straits Settlements native.
The Imperial Palace, the abode of the Mikado, is a magnificent edifice
surrounded by the Imperial Gardens, which cover a vast area of ground;
a short distance beyond, with no less ostentation, stands the palatial
residence of the Empress Dowager. My “rickshaw coolie” having taken me
into this Imperial Park, I was admiring the beauty thereof, when we
were approached by a sentry who admonished the coolie to proceed no
farther; when I urged him to continue, he informed me he was afraid of
being shot, whereupon we returned to the more peaceable surroundings
along the studios of the “geishas.”
The police register the arrival of all strangers, keeping a record of
their movements and admonishing them as to their behavior. The temples
are of great interest; in one I was shown the tomb of Buddha, whose
final interment, like the disposition of the bones of Columbus and
John Paul Jones, has been based on presumptive evidence.
Besides the diplomatic corps, there are a great many missionaries in
Tokio, while the army is everywhere in evidence.
July the 14th, the day set for the unveiling of Commodore Perry’s
monument at Uraga, dawned with a heavy fog hanging over the harbor.
Coincident with this event was the anniversary of the destruction of
the “Bastille,” which the flag-ship of the French fleet, the cruiser
_Friant_, had prepared to celebrate.
About 7.45 A.M. quarters sounded: the marines formed an alignment on
the starboard side of the quarter-deck, attired in full dress;
saluting gun crews fell to the forward six-pounders, and blue-jackets
formed an alignment on the port side. Everything ready, my annunciator
rang, and I reported to Admiral Rodgers, eight bells and under way. As
we steamed by the British, French, German, Italian, and Japanese
war-vessels, followed by the American fleet, the various bands played
“The Star-Spangled Banner,” the marines presenting arms, while the
American band played the Japanese national air, and in turn the
“Marseillaise,” the national air of the French republic. In less than
an hour we had entered the harbor of Kurahama, near Uraga, firing a
salute of twenty-one guns, our ships dressed in holiday attire from
bow to stern, with the Japanese ensign flying at the main. Our salute
was returned by the Japanese, and we anchored near the spot where
Commodore Perry’s ships anchored in 1854.
The Japanese fleet represented ancient, medieval, and modern warfare,
and included two of the most modern battleships afloat at that
time,――namely, the _Shikishima_ and _Hatsuse_, both of which figured
prominently in the bombardment of the Liaotung Peninsula and the
terrible slaughter of the Russians in the Straits of Korea.
The Yokohama Yacht Club was well represented in the harbor, and every
craft and packet, down to the odd-looking sampan, endeavored to appear
festive and holiday like.
The terrible weather prevented what was to have been a very imposing
ceremony. Thousands of Japanese from Tokio, Yokohama, Hakodate, Kioto,
Kobe, Osaka, Nagasaki, and the interior villages, had congregated to
witness the unveiling. A guard of five hundred marines from the fleet,
with the naval band of the _Hatsuse_, landed and were stationed in
front of the monument. The officers of the ships and government
officials were stationed on stands erected.
About twelve o’clock the ceremonies commenced with the band rendering
the Japanese national air, Admiral Rodgers broke the cords that held
the veil, and the monument was put in view. The United States
minister, Colonel A. E. Buck, being ill, an address was made by J. M.
Ferguson, secretary of the legation, who dwelt on the progress of
Japan and the friendship existing between her and America since the
opening of her ports to foreign commerce, and other beneficent
consequences that have followed Commodore Perry’s visit.
This was followed by a speech in Japanese by Premier Viscount Kasura,
after which Admiral Rodgers addressed the assemblage. Governor Sufu
also spoke in Japanese, and this was followed by the last address,
made by Rear Admiral Beardsley (retired), who was a midshipman on
Commodore Perry’s flag-ship over half a century ago.
After several appropriate selections by the band, during which
courtesies and greetings were exchanged, this military and civic
pageant, drenched by the rain that continually fell, dispersed to
their respective vessels and returned to Yokohama.
The monument consists of an immense slab of granite, resting on a
large granite foundation, on which the inscription, in Japanese
characters, translated is: “This monument marks the landing-place of
Commodore Perry, of the United States of America”; on the reverse
side, “Landed on the 14th July, 6th year Kayai; constructed on the 1st
July, 34th year Meiji.” It is thirty-four feet high and weighs
nineteen tons.
It was about five o’clock when the anchors of the _New York_ were
again hauled, and before supper was over we had again entered Yokohama
Bay, where the _Friant_ lay beautifully dressed in various-colored
flags, and literally covered with incandescent lights, the name
_Friant_ shining over the mizzen-top.
As the guns of the American war-ship belched forth a national salute,
in honor of the day that changed the current of events in France, the
American band struck up the “Marseillaise” (Chant de Guerre de l’Armee
du Rhin), and as the ship cast her anchors off the port bow of the
British commerce-destroyer _Terrible_, rapturous enthusiasm was
exhibited by the sailors. The festivities on board the French
flag-ship were joined in the evening by the officers of the various
fleets represented, and this ended a day of pleasure and events.
The following day a reception was tendered by the Americans, on board
the _New York_, to representatives of the nobility, officers of the
army and navy of Japan, members of the legation, civilian
representatives, and officers of the various fleets. The ship was
dressed in her best holiday attire for this occasion, and it was a
gala day for all on board. Ladies of various nations vied with one
another for beauty and effect. Japanese attired in European dress,
many of whom had been educated in the United States and Europe and
spoke Anglo-Saxon fluently, were there with sparkling vivacity. Lunch
was served on board by Japanese waiters, who could carry eighteen
goblets of champagne on one tray without spilling a drop. Music and
dancing were the chief features of the day.
The ship remained in Yokohama two weeks on this trip, steaming from
here to the famous dry-dock at Kure on the Island of Hondo. Here the
cruise was curtailed, owing to American interests requiring pressure
along the Chinese coast, where piracy in various forms was found
flourishing brazenly red-handed. After remaining two weeks in the
harbor of Amoy, the cruiser _New York_ steamed off in the darkness for
the Malay Peninsula.
VII.
War Orders in the “Land of the Rising Sun”
Sacred Ports of the “Mikado”――The “Kobe Country Club”――A Baseball
Game――War Orders――Under Forced Draft to Manila――A Company of the
Ninth Infantry Annihilated by “Bolomen”――A Midnight Bombardment
along the Coast of Samar――Death and Solemn Burial of a
Midshipman――Blowing up a “Banco”――A Fight in the Gandarra
Straits――Midnight Fusillade――Terrible Deprivations――War is
Hell――Return to the Land of the “Rising Sun.”
Through the courtesy of the Mikado of Japan, Admiral Rodgers,
commanding the American Asiatic squadron, had been granted the unusual
privilege of visiting, with his flag-ship the _New York_, ports in the
land of the “Rising Sun” whose harbors, surrounded by a succession of
mountain scenery and terraced hills of fantastic formation, had never
been graced by the flag of a foreign nation. It was therefore hailed
with delight by all on board when the news was promulgated about the
decks, that ere long our sea-going home would be winding her way
through the thread-like channels of the most beautiful body of water
extant, the “Inland Sea” of Japan, in the fashioning of which nature’s
handiwork reached its highest degree of excellence, unquestionably
supervised by all the “gods” of the omnipotent realm.
From the Malay Peninsula, and ports along the Celebes Sea, our ship
ploughed her way to the smaller islands of the Philippine archipelago,
where the crew had been occupied for several months placing beacons
and bell-buoys along the rocks and shoals.
Some time had been spent in target practice in the China Sea, both
shell and torpedo, and, with the exception of an occasional run to
Zamboango or Cebu, isolated ports, the monotony was intensified by the
lack of news from the outside world.
“Heaving the hook” (as the sailors say) one cloudy morning, as the
mist hung o’er the rice fields, the cruiser steamed for an anchorage
of a few days in the waters of Manila Bay. Lord, what a relief! We had
been coaling ship from colliers, and living on “salt-horse,”
hard-tack, and beans for nearly four months; and this was not the
worst of all, for we had had no mail from home (anywhere in the good
old United States was home), and mail in these foreign ports was
mighty precious. Even the poor fellow who seemed homeless and
friendless would listen with tears in his eyes, while his shipmate
read him passages written by some one in the home land.
Arriving in Manila Bay the ship cast anchor off Cavite, innumerable
sacks of mail were soon brought aboard, and as the master-at-arms
yelled out, “Mail O, mail O, on the starboard side of the gun-deck!” a
scrimmage ensued, such as would make the army and navy foot-ball
contest look like a game of quoits at a country fair. This day it
required two assistants to the master-at-arms in handling the bulk of
letters, papers, and periodicals that had accumulated during our
absence from civilization, the distribution of which reminded me of
the post-office scene from an old sketch at Carncross and Dixey’s
Philadelphia “play-house.”
Such queries as the following could be heard on the deck: “How many
letters did you get, Jack?” “Oh, I haven’t counted them, but here’s a
good one: ‘Dear Jack, how is it you never speak of your roommate? Is
he tall or short? Where does he come from and what is his name?’ Now,
wouldn’t that shatter your shingles?” “Say, fellows, did you hear what
‘Jack o’ the Dust’s’ sweetheart wrote? She wants to know if the
Philippines are anywhere near Germany. He is going to write and tell
her they are a little south of Germany and China.” “Hello, ‘Sinbad,’ I
don’t see you reading any mail,” is jokingly aimed at a husky “tar,”
whose derisive reply is, “No, nor you don’t see me answering
advertisements either.” For genuine humor, the arrival of mail aboard
a “man-of-war” in a foreign port is one droll dramatic comedy.
Three weeks later found the flag-ship gracing the bay of Nagasaki,
where Baron Kaneko and party of envoys boarded the cruiser, as guests
of Admiral Rodgers, for a trip through the Inland Sea.
The first port the vessel steamed for was Mitsugahamo, whose
land-locked harbor was entered toward evening, the blazing sheen of
the setting sun tingeing a deep sapphirine sky, reflecting from the
mirror-like bay to the craggy cliffs whose contour shone in
amethystine beauty. As the sun sank behind the cliffs, the iron clang
of clattering chains was heard lowering the anchors. This American
ship had been the first foreign vessel to enter the channel of this
sacred port of the pristine Shoguns.
The people of this island, in their more than semi-nudeness,
courtesied to the ground on meeting the Americans, offering their
broad sun-shades during the day, and providing sandals for the visitor
who on entering their pretty bamboo homes is required to remove his
shoes.
Morality in Japan has been decried as being lax; the assertion in my
estimation is a libel, when attended with more weight than should be
given other countries. From my personal observation of countries, the
customs and manners of their people, the records of divorce courts,
mutual separations, desertions, and the “red-light” signals to the
underworld of the large cities, I would place the Japanese fourth, and
in so doing begin the line of comparison within the confines of the
Atlantic and Pacific coasts.
In the villages of Mitsugahamo cleanliness was the dominating virtue;
carefully swept streets were offset by bamboo fences enclosing
productive gardens and rockeries with plants of flaunting blossoms.
Hardwood carving and lacquer work employed a large number of the men,
while the women, with their little tycoons strapped like a papoose,
were engaged in weaving silk on a loom or in fancy painting and
embroidering.
The people of this island seemed to be the typical Japanese
aborigines, there being no indication of a mixture of blood, such as
is seen in such seaport cities as Nagasaki and Yokohama.
Our next visit of importance was to the sacred island of Miyajima,
where legend tells us a sacred fire has been burning for three
thousand years. For ages past there has been neither a birth nor a
death chronicled on this strange island of the “Rising Sun.”
Indisposition of health is immediately attended by deportation, while
the quarantine officials cautiously examine every subject for any
disorder that might tend to suddenly snuff out the light of existence,
and, like the parable of the ten virgins, those whose lights are dimly
burning cannot enter in. (See 25th chapter of Matthew, records of
orthodoxy.) After visiting various other ports of unpronounceable
names, our ship steamed to the city of Kobe, described in a previous
narrative. Lying in the harbor were the British battleship _Endymion_,
two Italian cruisers, a German battleship, two Russian monitors, and
the Japanese battleship _Hatsuse_. The following day the baseball team
of the cruiser _New York_, having accepted a challenge, went ashore to
cross bats with the “Kobe Country Club,” the members of which were
more than eager to blot out the stigma of their previous defeat. The
day was an ideal baseball day in every respect; a cool breeze blew
through the park in the west end of the city, while thick gray clouds
shut off the burning rays of the sun.
On reaching the “diamond,” the American contingent, consisting of the
baseball team chaperoned by Chaplain Chidwick, the band, and every
available man whose duties did not prevent him from getting ashore,
were given an ovation by a mixture of Japanese, Russian, Italian, and
English voices resembling somewhat the noise in “Cheyenne Joe’s” Rocky
Mountain Inn during the “Louisiana Purchase Exposition.” The
grandstand was thronged with officers and wives, representing the
Japanese army and the vessels of various nations, numerous tourists,
and butterfly geishas attired in pretty silk kimonos; it was also
noticeable that the American party was augmented by Captain and Mrs.
Putnam Bradley Strong, widely known in both hemispheres.
With the rendition of popular selections by the band, the game opened
with clever playing on both sides, the _New York’s_ battery and
in-field having a shade the better of the game, though the out-field
of the “Country Club” did excellent service in stopping the sphere,
which was pounded hard by the Americans. The game was very pretty in
all its details, resulting in a victory for the “blue jackets”; score,
5 to 3.
After the game had closed, it was amusing to hear the admirers of our
opponents expressing their opinions as to what might have been the
result if the short-stop had only swung to “first” instead of “home,”
how a double play could have been made, putting the side out and
preventing a score, et cetera.
In the evening, with some friends whom I had met on a previous visit,
I journeyed to the “club,” where the conversation was all baseball;
after the fine points of the game had been discussed, it was
unanimously decided that, it being too late to perform a diagnosis, an
autopsy should be held, somebody even suggested an inquest; however,
let it suffice, that the obsequies terminated ceremoniously, with the
pathetic recital of “Casey at the bat” by W. P. Bradley, an American.
In the British army during its hard-fighting days, when the loss of so
many soldiers had a depressing effect on those who attended their
departed heroes to the grave, it was deemed expedient to have the band
play inspiring airs, immediately following the last notes of “taps,”
which invariably had a cheering effect on the soldiers; this was
accompanied by a social gathering at the “canteen,” where deep
draughts, in communion and good fellowship, were quaffed from the
“flowing bowl.”
The sad loss the “Kobe Country Club” had suffered on the “diamond”
this day had enjoined the members to seek recourse to the above
custom, and verily I disclose unto those in attendance that night in
Japan, if, with the awakening of the dawn, your feverish brows
throbbed for cracked ice as mine did, my sympathy for you is
unbounded.
During the celebration this night at the club, each guest performed
some little sketch of his own; an officer of the British battleship
_Endymion_, being pressed “real hard” for a song, was finally
prevailed upon for a selection. Taking a position at the piano, he
skilfully ran over the keys, then, turning, addressed the club as
follows: “Gentlemen, am noute at ’ome in the voucal loine, but, if you
must ’ave a song, a’l endeavor to sing a selection sent to me by an
aeold friend in the United States, entitled, ‘I’d leave my ’appy ’ome
for you, double o, double o.’” We Americans who had heard the song in
the “States” knew the title to be, “I’d leave my happy home for you,
oo, oo.” Turning to the piano, our friend commenced:
“I’d leave my ’appy ’ome for you, double o, double o;
For you’re the sweetest girl I ever knew, double o, double o,”
et cetera. Well, the chuckling expressions of mirth that this
ridiculous song brought forth created a laughable scene. Once begun,
the fellow was unwilling to stop; he evidently had hysteria, and
thought the laughing applause, for he pounded away on the keys, and
rang in double o, whether it fitted or not, until, finally, a brother
officer went to him and whispered something in his ear, whereupon he
ceased, and joined in the laugh with all the attributes of a good
sport.