ON THE YANG-TSE-KIANG DURING A FLOOD--TOWED BY FORTY
COOLIES--CYCLISTS PAID FOR BEING ENTERTAINED BY THE TAI FOO.
The rain which we had looked for did not disappoint us. The water
poured steadily for three days following the Fourth of July, and on the
7th the water rose twenty feet in eighteen hours. It continued rising
to flood height, and we were imprisoned at Ping Shan Pa until July 26,
our boat tied to the trees of an orange grove which sheltered a coffin
shop kept by an old man. The Yang-Tse-Kiang was in its fiercest mood,
and none better than ourselves were in a position to witness its
terrors. Our boat was turned and twisted as if struggling to break
its bonds. Great volumes of under-current burst in swirls under our
bow and stern, pounding as they struck the flat bottom of the boat as
if we had been crashed on a submerged rock. The yellow waters seemed
to leap in their course, all semblance to a stream being lost. Trees,
torn up by their roots, leaped full length from the whirlpools and were
drawn down into the vortex of the next. A capsized junk shot past,
and as it was near the shore a half-dozen boatmen left the bank to
seize the prize. It was an exciting sight. The crews raved, yelled
and stamped on the deck like demons, risking their lives for the
sake of a few pieces of silver. When they succeeded in beaching the
junk, every plank, nail, bit of cargo, and even the bodies on board,
were theirs to possess or claim reward for. The rampage of the river
gave the coffin shop proprietor several days of grewsome work. Within
twenty-four hours the gray-queued old fellow rescued six bodies from
the whirlpools in front of his establishment. His son, stationed
on a crag half a mile upstream, kept a keen lookout for the dead in
the river, and as soon as the yellow, bloated bodies appeared on the
surface of the water, he signaled his father, who, with an assistant,
put out in a small boat to tow the corpses ashore. For this service
and for the coffin he received 75 gold cents a body, and rich, in a
Chinaman's eyes, had the old fellow grown with his years of watching
during the spring and summer floods.
Ascending the gorges of the Yang-Tse-Kiang by boat is a trip which,
under the most propitious circumstances, is fraught with danger
and inconvenience, but especially so during the months of July and
August. But we ascended the most dangerous parts of the famed canyons,
passed through the Tan Hsin, Sung Poa Tso Tan and other dreaded
rapids. Though the trip proved at all times exciting, there was no
time that danger was sufficiently apparent to cause Mrs. McIlrath to
change color or to reach out for her cork life-belt. Nevertheless, I
would not undertake the journey again were it to lead through scenery
doubly grand and were the passage to be paid handsomely in gold. The
entire pleasure is lost in efforts to keep the Chinese crew in marching
order, and, as they must be coerced into activity, the journey may be
said to resemble an outing in the Grand Canyon with a herd of swine
to drive. The expression is homely, but just and fitting. We sighted
the beautiful Teng Hsiang gorge on Aug. 8, but long before we entered
it the country became hilly, often resembling the beautiful Palisades
of the Hudson. In America, where all things necessary to facilitate
transportation and commerce are deemed absolutely necessary, such feats
as the Port Huron Canal and the removal of Hell Gate are accepted by
the public when the feats are accomplished as simply the result of
need, but in China a mere passage a few miles long, blasted out of a
mountain side, is a rare spectacle to behold. As our boat slipped along
the rocks the beauty of the gorge disclosed itself, but to my mind the
scenery of the Teng Hsiang gorge did not compare in grandeur to that
encountered upon the rapids of Shan-Tou-Ping. The rapids are caused
by jutting shells of rock running out into the river several hundred
feet. As the water is deep, and the current runs eight miles an hour,
the rapids are terrific. Had our boat broken loose and gone down stream
onto the boulders, which reared their heads just above the water,
boat, baggage, bicycles, and probably tourists would have been lost.
The mast of all boats ascending the Yang-Tse-Kiang is situated
almost amidships, just a little forward, and to the base of this is
fastened the tracking line of bamboo. From the top of the spar runs
another line fastened to the towline about thirty feet out from the
mast, and by pulling in or slacking this line the tracking line may
be raised to the top of the spar, if desired, this to enable the
towline to clear the rocks on the shore, which are occasionally as
high as the mast. Forty coolies composed our crew on shore in charge
of the tracking line, and as the "Defender," trembling and groaning,
pushed her nose into the rushing water the crew ashore chanted and
groaned, as, bent forward until one hand almost touched the ground,
they moved us up stream. The night of our arrival in Kwei Chou Foo,
an old and dilapidated, yet a city of great importance, Mrs. McIlrath
and I slept on deck, as was our custom, awakened the next morning
at daybreak. At 9 o'clock I sent my letter of introduction, card and
passport to the Tai Foo by the captain of the lifeboat, and an hour
later we received his card, and word that at noon an official would
call for us. In the meantime our apartments were being prepared in the
palace of the Tai Foo. He sent three chairs for us, one for myself,
one for Mrs. McIlrath, and one for Leo, our Chinese interpreter,
a Shanghai boy, who was quite driven out of his wits at the idea
that one so high in rank should condescend to provide a chair for a
foreigner's servant. The Tai Foo was a tall, slender man, middle-aged,
and very intellectual in appearance. Beckoning us to a sumptuously
furnished reception room, he welcomed us in courtly manner, and with
Leo acting as interpreter, he asked the usual questions concerning our
trip, the cause for undertaking such a journey, how much I received
a month, if I had seen indications of gold and silver ore in China,
and endless queries that are kept constantly on hand by the official
clan. Gradually the potentate thawed out, his questioning ceased,
and he began telling of his own affairs. He laid aside the peacock
plumed bonnet and the gold breastplate, and, clad in his blue silk
robe, he became simply a well-educated Chinese gentleman. He realized
that Japan had annihilated and confiscated China's navy, defeated her
troops and generally "played horse" with the Great Dragon. He also
knew that the world was round, and that America and Great Britain
were different countries.
We were the guests of the Tai Foo for three days, and when we were
ready for departure he presented us with a purse of 20 taels, insisting
that we accept it to remunerate us for the enjoyment he had derived
from our honorable company. As a farewell contribution to our part of
the entertainment, I rode the bicycle around the gardens, causing the
wives, children and attachés of the Tai Foo to scream with delight, and
then call for our chairs. As we took our places in the gaily papered
interior of the sedans, the Foo's secretary handed me three enormous
envelopes covered with imposing seals and large characters. These
were letters of commendation to the Shen at Yan Yang Hsien, where we
arrived Monday, Aug. 17. There was another official reception for us,
with the same pageant of chairs, umbrellas and ponies. We dined with
the Shen, who also stocked our boat with dainty dishes, including hams,
ducks, chickens, fish and a young pig. The quantity of food provided
for us as a single meal would have fed six Americans for several days.
The contract I had made with the boatmen called for 21,000 cash, and
stipulated that we were to be landed in Wan Hsien in twelve days. The
cash had been paid the crew in advance, and as the ship had occupied
twenty-three days, I had been liberal in granting the crew extra money,
until 17,000 extra cash had been added to the sum. But upon our arrival
at Wan Hsien the boatman demanded 7,000 cash more. I had learned from
experience that argument with the coolie class did not pay, so when the
demand was made I requested that the boatman accompany me to the Shen
and allow that official to decide the difficulty. This proposition
he accepted, and as soon as we had met the official, presented our
passports and letters of introduction, and our boy Leo had handed
the Shen my receipts, contract and a statement of the extras paid,
we adjourned to the trial room. In vain did our boat captain explain
his woes as he knelt upon the stone floor. Unfortunately for himself,
he attempted to explain some particular point, and instantly the Shen
shouted an order, four coolies seized him, and stretching him upon the
floor, administered 400 strokes with a club. I had not expected such
an outcome, and when the Shen asked through the interpreter if I was
satisfied, I could but answer, "Only too well." The boatman staggered
to his feet, and with piteous moans was thrust into a bamboo cage. This
seemed to be carrying things a little too far, and expostulating with
the Shen I succeeded in having him released. Paying him 4,000 cash as
a recompense, I sent him away, grateful that I had not taken advantage
of my influence and allowed him to remain in the filthy bamboo pen.
The road from Wan Hsien to Chung King lies directly over the
mountains. Knowing that upon our journey we would be unable to ride our
bicycles, we engaged coolies to carry them, and taking the conveyance
called mountain chairs for the accommodation of ourselves and boy,
we left Wan Hsien Aug. 26. The Shen furnished us as an escort two
soldiers and four extra coolies, and with these added to our party
of five we made quite a little procession as we started on our long
tramp. At 4:30 o'clock in the afternoon we halted at a large village
thirty miles up the mountain. The rain was pouring, and while the
coolies prepared a room for us in the inn I hastened to provide dry
clothing and medicine for Mrs. McIlrath. She had fallen ill during the
morning, and had I known what distress and alarm her indisposition
was to cause me I hardly think I should have ever ventured into the
interior of China. To be ill in a civilized land, where one has all
the advantages of medicine, proper food, bedding and pure air, is
trying enough to one's nerves and peace of mind, but to be stricken
in a land 300 miles from a white face, confined in a dark, damp room,
centipedes crawling along the walls, rain dropping from the roof,
terrible odors from pig pens in the next room, and cesspools of
filth in the rear, is calculated to affect any sufferer for the
worse. It was midnight before I could quiet my wife by the use of
drugs. She insisted upon starting with us the next morning, though so
weak she had to be carried to her chair. The rain fell in torrents,
and to protect my patient I tied sheets of oil paper over her chair,
wrapped her in a flannel blanket, and hung curtains of burlap over the
doorway. Her condition did not improve for the next three days. The
rain continued to add to our misery and discomfort, but my stock of
medicine was running low, and I considered necessary a forced march
to Chung King. Several times our coolie chair bearers mutinied, and
upon one particular rainy night they gave us the slip, forcing me
to send the Shen's two soldiers after them. They not only deserted,
but took with them the chair used in carrying Mrs. McIlrath. But the
soldiers were faithful to the friends of their master, and captured
and brought back the truants. It was only by threats to do them bodily
harm that I succeeded in making them resume the march next morning. I
probably threatened more than I would execute, but prompt action
was imperative. It was either to move rapidly toward Chung King,
or lose by an agonizing death the little companion of my travels
and of my life. The path was miserable, the rain fell in a drizzle,
and the country was half hidden in banks of fog, but never did blue
skies, green grass, and the sweet air of freedom appear more welcome
to a released convict than did that dreary view as we set forward
for relief.