In the Yellow Sea

"An accident," I replied, nodding at Tomi as I turned away. The boat came up, and he was rowed away, to the surprise of the onlookers on the wharf, who had not seen the struggle.

Then I returned, and remained indoors next day till afternoon.

As no one molested me, I became more easy in my mind as the day wore on, and I began to look about me with more interest. From the fine parade along the river, – the Bund it is called, – with its turfed slopes, Shanghai is alive, right away to the men-of-war, local steamers, and launches. The streets are full, even crowded, with passers-by and rickshas – the original "Pull-man car of Shanghai." On the Bund the business is performed, and its occupants are indeed busy. It is a wonderful sight for the stranger from Europe, who expects things to be Chinese-like. In the Maloo, or chief road, cabs, broughams, barrows, and horsemen jostle each other daily.

This is not China! It is London, Paris, New York. Fine houses and broad pavements; banks, hotels, imposing buildings, a cathedral. Great ships and little boats, sampans. Vessels loading and unloading, noise and bustle, cranes and steam-whistles. Babel of language, and the never-ceasing chatter of the Chinaman and his friends. Cash! cash! cash! Merchants, coolies, rickshas, runners, porters; Chinese dodging the carts, and avoiding the "foreign devils"; yet, at times, driving in British landaus driven by a Chinese. Such a confusion, such fun and variety; yet all over it, for me, hung the shadow of the crime of the Corean which led to War!

I crossed the bridge, and visited the Chinese-European sections, – not the city of Shanghai, – and the French Quai des Fossés, and the familiar notice of the continent of Europe – "defendu!" The Chinese possess in their section no landaus, they hire wheelbarrows like Mr. Pickwick's. Here one can examine the shops and the natives at leisure. You may see the deformed feet, and the really unpleasant supplies of food which the Chinaman consumes, and the frequent coffin which he will occupy later when he dies of "carrion dishes."

And all this primitive, conservative, old-world practice in the midst of modern civilisation – electric light, steam, and even comparatively broad streets, high houses, and wide roads, – but not China.

I put in the three last items because Chinese natives have no roads, as we called them, no high houses as in Europe, and no streets. The streets are alleys; the houses deep, not high; the roads, paths! All is topsy-turvy; even the house-roof is made and put up before the walls; and politeness consists in depreciating oneself to the visitor. The lady of the house is a nonentity, and the meaning of "wife" is merely "the woman who uses the broom" or servant! In Shanghai Anglo-China you may be amused and interested, but in a Chinese town, such as Amoy, or Shanghai, or Hankow, you will be disgusted, and unless strong in all ways, come away absolutely sick and ill. The sights, the smells, the open drains, the filth, the putrid food, and the personal dirtiness, will, in a quarter of an hour, repel all but the devoted seeker and the confirmed and robust smoker.[2]

But when within European districts one may see something, and satisfy legitimate curiosity; perhaps even in the peep-shows, though here again the taste of the native is for "high" meats; and "blue" incidents, as in the theatre and such places, are evident.

*****

When I arose next morning I heard that Lung had been arrested, and that the inquest was to be held at once. Lung did not seem in any way interested, and declared that he had acted under directions from high authority in Corea. However that may have been, he was not hanged nor imprisoned, but handed by the consuls to the Chinese, and departed in a man-of-war.

Being much interested in the case, I kept watch, and discovered that the man would be conveyed away by night to Corea. As I was wondering how I could find out the fact, and conceal myself from the police, I saw a well-known figure making for the Consulate, near which I was seated. I rushed up and accosted the new-comer.

"Captain Goldheugh! This is luck!"

"Julius! By thunder! is it yourself entirely? Well now, look at that! I was going to the Consulate for ye. Look at that!"

This was an apostrophe, a favourite expression with the skipper.

"And ye're not dead at all?" he asked, after a hearty shake, twice repeated.

"Not at all," I replied, laughing. "Delighted to see you, captain."

"So am I, bedad! Why, the steamer was crying for ye, and wouldn't steam scarcely, and we declared it was the name did it —Fêng Shui, no less. I am thinking of changing it. I am so!"

"Why, sir? Surely Fêng Shui is no harm?"

"No harm, is it? Bedad, it may mean anything – in China; and as we're Chinese now – a Chinese transport I think I'll make it, bedad! – I'm going to the Consul to report the Kowshing. I never did like the name Fêng Shui – in China. I was told it was unlucky."

"Why? What does it mean?" I asked, as we continued our way.

"Fêng Shui? I told ye it means 'wind and weather,' – but also their influences; things which cannot be exactly understood, but which, like electricity, are evident. In China Fêng Shui generally means a grave."

"That's cheerful, anyway," I muttered.

"And whether the place is 'good' or 'bad' depends very much upon the imagination or estimation of the persons interested. There are 'professors' who profess to understand Fêng Shui, but I needn't say they are mostly humbugs, and only try to make money out of ye. But I think China is getting much wiser, and less conservative in many ways. Ye'll see ladies on bicycles soon – I mean Chinese women; and when ye do, ye may depend the old restrictions are broken away."

"Then the Fêng Shui is doomed, you mean?"

"Yes, it will be; and the steamer must change her name. Look here, Julius, between you and me and the bedpost, the mate and myself have made up our minds to stand the racket for the Company, and chance it. The agent holds off, but I see my way to profit by the fuss."

"What fuss? This murder?"

"Bosh!" exclaimed the captain. "The war! The Chinese and Japs are already at loggerheads about Corea. This murder business will cause the Japs to interfere. China has already sent soldiers to Corea, and the Japs have the right to do the same. Now ye'll see sparks fly!"

"I'm afraid I do not quite understand it."

"Well, well! Can't ye understand the difference between Conservatives and Progressives? Yes! Then Japan is progressive, and the Chinese the other way. The Johnnies objected to Corea being made progressive, as the Japanese tried to make it, because Japan is advancing to European perfections. That very fellow who was killed two days ago was an adherent of Japanese advance, and the old Coreans' style opposed him. Some years ago (in 1882) the Japanese had to fly out of Corea; they sent troops to punish the natives, the Chinese did the same, for the sake of making peace. But the Corean Progressives attacked the Corean Conservatives, who retaliated, and drove the Progressive party out in 1884.

"Then it was arranged that both China and Japan, the Conservative and Progressive motive-powers, should each send troops to Corea if the other did, and the treaty between Li Hung Chang and Count Ito lasted for nine years, till now – 1894. And now," concluded the skipper, "Mr. Oh Sing, or Kim, has again thrown the fat into the fire. He's been killed, – he was a 'Progressive,' ye understand, – and the consuls, or one of them, has caused the murderer to be sent by the Chinese to Corea to the king, free and unpunished! Bedad, my lad, we'll see more sparks out o' these flints yet!"

"Then the Conservative Corean has killed the Progressive Corean?"

"Just so; and the Chinese, being Conservative, have saved the murderer, and sent him home in a man-of-war! In a Government ship! Sent him home with honours! Sure the Japs won't stand that."

"I suppose it was a planned thing?"

"Certainly; a plot, – a decoy. You, somehow, came in the vessel, and, I hear, got into trouble almost. If the King of Corea instructed the man Lung, or Hung, and if he goes back unpunished, then ye'll see some 'fun,' as people call it."

"And the Chinese expect something?" I asked.

"Yes, they do. They're searching for transports on the quiet; and when I have changed the Fêng Shui to Kowshing, and settled the bad luck, then we'll just go up to the Yellow Sea, and look in at Taku."

"Why at Taku?'

"Because I hear, quite by accident (accidentally on purpose, as my uncle used to say), that the troops for Corea will embark there, if anywhere at all. My game is ready, and the steamer will be there. If I can get the job, I makee much cash; if not, then perhaps one catchee die, and get one piecee coffin, as Johnny Coolie might say. But alle samee some day. Are ye hungry, Julius? Let's chow-chow, eh?"

"Indeed I am, sir; very hungry."

"So'm I. I'm a'most dying with the forgortha – the hunger, ye know, – myself. Come on then, and have bird's-nest soup and roast rat."

"No thank you," I replied with a shudder,

"Oh, come on, boy! Have lunch with me, and drink good luck to the Kowshing and peace to the Fêng Shui. Come!"

CHAPTER VII

THE FÊNG SHUI CHANGES HER NAME FOR LUCK

– THE TRANSPORT – THE JAPANESE

MAN-OF-WAR – SURRENDER OF THE KOWSHING

We were compelled by circumstances to remain a few days at Shanghai, and almost every hour begat new rumours. Sunday itself was no day of rest for the Spirit of Conjecture; she was busier than ever, and whether on the Bund or on the concession road, where everybody met all the world and his wife and family, the speculations were numerous and important. Only the ugly Amas (Chinese "ayahs"), and their usually pale European charges, were exempted from the general discussions. The Chinese, too, were quite quiet, but also perfectly alive to the situation. Those of the settlers who played lawn tennis or other games, or cycled, – as most of the "foreign" men did, – paused to discuss late events on the grounds, or on the Marine Parade. The Chinese drove, or perhaps walked, but did not "go in for games" as the "foreign devils" do; it is better, they think, to pay people to do all this to amuse them.

The steamer quitted Shanghai, and made her way into the Yellow Sea, which is beautifully blue, and derives its name from the Ho, or Yellow River. Near the land it is more muddy, but steaming at sea through the ocean depths the water is blue as an Italian sky. We made our way up to Taku, or Tien Tsin, the well-known port of Northern China. We passed close by Yung Cheng, and rounded Wei-hai-Wei, passed the islands, and steamed through the Gulf of Pechili to Taku at the mouth of the Pei-Ho.

I was very much interested in this place because a cousin of mine had been engaged in the expedition against the Taku forts in 1859, and I recollect my admiration when my cousin returned with some beautiful Chinese robes, and other articles, which he had purchased, or found, in Pekin after the capture of the capital. These spoils still exist in the possession of my cousin's family.

While embarking Chinese soldiers for Corea, we heard many reports of the Chinese fleet, the attack of Japanese in Seul, and such intelligence, which confirmed my captain in his impression that war had already virtually been declared, and that the struggle would be fought out by sea and land, between China and Japan, in the Yellow Sea and in Corea. So he made haste to embark the soldiers, – some twelve hundred men with twelve guns, – and, when they were settled on board, the steamer followed the other transports, of which nine had already sailed. There were two other English steamers employed in the service, but we didn't think that any fuss would ensue, because we trusted to the "red ensign."

"Well, Julius," said the mate to me, when we had crossed the bar at Taku, "here we are on service."

"Yes," I replied; "but it is only transport service. There will be no fighting. We can't fight, and no one will harm a British ship."

"Let us wait till we reach Corea. When we reach Asan, and land the troops, we shall be able to sing 'Rule Britannia.'"

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking at the mate intently in the dim light. "There is no danger, is there?"

"I suppose you know that the Japanese warships are out in this sea, and they expect to meet some Chinese vessels?"

"But we're not Chinese; we're English."

"Just so," said the mate. "Hadn't you better look after the troops, and get them settled. If any storm gets up, or anything happens, they will be like children, and we can't hold them."

"Who's the major? He's not a Chinese, anyway!"

"No, he's a German, I believe – a Von something – a good fellow, I think. You see the Herrs are getting the thin wedge in in China, quietly. Look at their travellers already – commercial, I mean – they are turning us out! This major is teaching the army to shoot. They are very young in the modern sense. Just see that the Johnnies are quiet."

They were peaceful and resigned. So far as I could ascertain, none of them, except the generals, had any notion of what they were sent to do – except to fight somebody; but they were apparently quite passive in the matter, and gave themselves no concern either way. They were machines then; but later they roused themselves unpleasantly.

It was early in the morning of the 25th July 1894; I had been on deck, but came up again about eight a.m. because I was informed that the islands were in sight off Corea. I knew the mate was on watch, and he might want me. So I came up to him.

"I say, Julius," he said, "just call the captain! There's an ironclad ahead, and I can't quite make her out. She carries the Rising Sun, but there is a white flag over the Japs' colours. Look alive!"

Just glancing ahead I thought I could see the vessel referred to, but of course I called the captain at once.

"Where are we?" he asked, rising quickly.

"Oft Shopieul Island, I heard, sir; in the Corean Archipelago," I added.

"Thanks," he replied; but whether he was sarcastic I could not divine. I at once hurried on deck again, and searched the sea.

The captain then came upon the bridge, and I heard him chatting with the mate.

"I suppose she's a Jap," said the latter; "but I can't grasp the white flag."

"Dip the ensign, anyway; it's the proper thing. Hoist the red rag," he said.

The signal-hand quickly bent the ensign of the merchant navy; it rose, fluttered out, dipped, and rose again to the peak, blowing out plainly.

"I say, he takes no notice," cried the captain. "She keeps her course to the north-east. Now what in thunder does that mean? It's an insult, bedad!"

"She's steaming at a fine rate, sir. Looks as if she was in a hurry."

"Running away, bedad!" laughed the skipper, turning his glass upon the large ship. "Ah! a man-of-war and a Chinaman, – a trick, I believe."

"Really so?" exclaimed the mate. "If so, there's been a 'tit up' yonder, and Jap has licked Johnny, but I heard no guns. Excuse me, sir, what's that yonder? – a schooner, I say."

I heard him, and got a glass from the signalman near whom I was standing. But the schooner was not the Harada, so far as I could see. She had no foretop-sail-yard. She was steering south-east, a long distance away, and looked an old style of vessel getting away.

By this time the news had spread through the steamer, and penetrated to the Chinese intelligence forward. The soldiers came up in numbers, and the officers, accompanied by the European passenger, began to chatter and make all kinds of inquiries and observations. The Japanese flag had evidently raised the "dander" of the Chinese. They understood that the man-of-war was a Chinaman, but could not understand the white feather of retreat or escape.

By degrees the excitement increased, and the crew of the steamer became very much interested. The native fireman even came up to look around, and though unable to see anything, descended again, much impressed with the result.

Notwithstanding our native English assurance, one or two of us – I need not make invidious comparisons – began to suspect danger. The captain, mate, and the German military passenger were perfectly calm and unembarrassed, and the Kowshing proceeded at a good pace to her destination. The chief men were on the bridge. I was within hail, and at times stood upon the ladder to see better, and to hear better, what the prospects might be of seeing war.

We still kept our course, and had approached within a mile or so of the island from the north-west, when three men-of-war came out from the land in our direction.

"What do you make them?" asked the captain.

"Japs," was the reply. "We are getting into a hornet's nest, I think."

"The British ensign will surely protect the steamer?" asked the foreign passenger. "There is no necessity to alter the course."

"Precious little use, anyhow," remarked the mate. "We must keep going, though I fancy the ships will not appreciate the Chinese troops on board. We may be compelled to return."

When the Chinese commanders perceived the Japanese vessels approaching they became rather excited – the soldiers also crowded forward, and there was no appearance of fear amongst them. There was some anxiety, certainly, on board, and when the leading ship passed on and fired two blank cartridges, there was a feeling of uneasiness evident.

"Stop her," came the order when the two guns and the signal had been interpreted. My heart beat loudly at the sound of the unshotted guns. They meant heave to – anchor.

The steamer hove to and waited, tossing gently upon the sea.

"What are they up to?" was the question expressed or implied. "Tell them we understand, Julius." "Ting, ting" went the telegraph to the engine.

The man at the signal halyards and myself sent the bunting aloft. The flags said, "We have stopped"; and again we waited, lopping and rolling, as the anchor plashed away into the blue sea at eleven fathoms.

"I say, are we prisoners?" I asked the mate when he came back amidships, having seen the anchor let go.

"Looks like it," he replied crossly. "Must wait the Japs' convenience, I see."

The Chinese generals then began to plague the captain with demands which the German officer translated and repeated. There was great confusion.

"That ship's the Naniwa," I heard someone say.

"She's returning. All right, we may proceed, I presume."

"She is only going to confer with her mates," said the engineer, who had come up. "But the captain is asking something."

I made out the signal as directed, and it spelt "May we proceed?" The engineers anxiously awaited the reply, and the crew expected the order to weigh.

But to my dismay, and certainly to the disappointment of all on board our steamer, the reply came from the Japanese, sharply —

"Heave to, or take the consequences."

We looked at each other, the Chinese commanders were furious. The men made ready their rifles, and got up ammunition. Things began to look black all round.

The Chinese commanders demanded to know what had been said, and when they had been informed a discussion arose. So greatly were they exercised that the foreign officer suggested that the soldiers might be sent below, because he feared a disturbance if any Japanese came on board; and also, I think, he fancied we all were in danger if the troops became mutinous.

This advice, backed up by the officers of the steamer, was acted upon, and when I had assisted in carrying out the order with the quarter-master, Louis, we came on deck again, and we saw the same ship again approaching us on the port side – on the beam; she took up a position so that she could enfilade us with her starboard battery, and we could see that she had prepared to fire her broadside.

I really could not believe we were in danger. It seemed so absurd to think that our Japanese friends could threaten a British ship sailing under the ensign, and employed in transport duties. I said as much to the mate. He shook his head.

"You see, we are in the enemy's pay, and the Japs must have the first blow if they mean war. Still, I suppose they will take us off the steamer, and make the Johnnies prisoners. Here comes a boat. We shall soon find out all about this business."

"The Japanese are armed," I said.

"Certainly they are. They are on the warpath. I hope we shan't lose our scalps!"

I laughed at the idea, and the mate walked forward to keep watch and order ahead, without echoing my misplaced merriment. He seemed to take things seriously. How absurd!

"Gangway!" came the order, and the captain went down to receive the two Japanese officers who intended to come on board. They were received with politeness, the lieutenant and his sub demanded to see the steamer's papers. For this purpose they went into the chart-room.

Meantime I was staring at the boat and the Japanese sailors, neat and tidy fellows, and at the youthful officer keeping guard. My heart leaped. I recognised him as the youth whom I had assisted that evening in Shanghai when the feeling against the Japanese ran high. He recognised me at the same moment, and smiled. I advanced and saluted him; he replied in kind, and we exchanged greetings. It was Tomi!

"May I inquire what your captain intends to do with us?" I asked after a while.

"I cannot say," he replied. "My officer and your captain will doubtless arrange matters."

"We are not at war," I persisted; "we cannot be harmed." I glanced at the English ensign as I was speaking.

His eyes followed mine, and he touched his cap politely, then looked at me. "Will you come on board?" he asked. "I will assist you now, if you like."

"Why? What for?" After a pause, I replied, "No, thank you. I am on duty, of course." But I thought it kind of the middy. He knew the danger.

"Stand back, please; here is my officer," he said quickly. "Be silent."

He at once became distant as the land, and shut up like an oyster. He perhaps was afraid to be seen speaking to me.

The captain and the Japanese lieutenant then appeared. The latter said —

"I will convey your message, sir, I understand that this vessel is under the charter of the Chinese Government to convey troops from Taku to Asan. Is that correct?"

"Perfectly," replied the captain.

The lieutenant continued, "There are eleven hundred soldiers on board, with arms and ammunition and supplies. Are you prepared to follow the Naniwa, sir?"

"I am willing to do so," replied the captain. "Will you favour me with your esteemed name?"

"Lieutenant Hitomi," was the reply. "Yours, sir, is Goldheugh?"

The captain bowed; the lieutenant bowed in response, and was then most politely escorted to the gangway, whence he was rowed to the Naniwa, as he had named her. She was painted white, and had one funnel.

She was, and is, a fine ship, and I scrutinised her size and guns and equipage of modern appearance. She was armed with two 26 c.m. twenty-eight-ton Armstrong guns; six 15 c.m. five-ton Krupps; besides machine guns – a heavy armament for a ship of something under four thousand tons, I estimated. She carried three hundred and fifty-seven men, and could steam eighteen knots. These details I learned later; at the moment of the lieutenant's departure I was fascinated by her guns. It seemed so unreal to me. War was so unexpected by us, though I gathered that it had been brewing for months. Still it is always disturbing and alarming, even if one is not face to face with it, as I was.

When the Japanese officer had returned to the ship, the Chinese generals came up with the German officer to make inquiries. The major was not present when the explanation had been made, but he understood that our captain had mentioned him as a "passenger."

"I did so, sir; I told the lieutenant. Did you not hear what I said?"

"No," replied the passenger. "If you had called me, as we agreed " —

"Bless my soul, what time had I to call anyone?" exclaimed the captain. "The man didn't wait for any explanations. He asked me questions, and when I had replied he was off like a shot; and maybe he'll treat us to one presently, though I suppose it isn't his fault. What are the generals going to do?"