Chapter X: A Midnight Phantasy in California 197 (2)

Mr. O’Mally was walking around the world for a wager; he had covered the distance from San Francisco to New York, had walked through Europe, and was at this time making his way through Africa. He had come on board the American ship to have Admiral Rodgers sign his credentials showing he had been at this point in Africa on this particular date. At the close of the interview the admiral ordered me to show our distinguished perambulator through the ship. I found him to be a very congenial fellow, and was very much interested with his stories of his travels by foot.

Accompanied by his French interpreter, we started through the vessel, I explaining everything of interest to their apparent satisfaction, after which we returned to the quarter-deck, and, after exchanging cards, Mr. O’Mally and his guide departed for the city, stating that he would probably meet me in Algiers the following day, where I would be on shore leave.

The next day, accompanied by five other marines, with that almost uncontrollable desire for pleasure and excitement known only by the men who undergo the rigid discipline of the navy, I boarded a sampan and was sculled ashore, where numerous guides, always in evidence in foreign ports, offered to conduct us through the labyrinths of gayety. Waving aside these pests, we ascended the stone steps leading to the plaza overlooking the bay and a grand boulevard. This plaza was thronged with pedestrians and equipages of the civic and military, French and Moorish officers, gendarmes, tourists, fakirs, fortune-tellers, Bedouins, and beggars, commingled, forming a most cosmopolitan scene. Seeking an exchange, we converted some money into centimes, sous, francs, and napoleons, and, after purchasing some relics from the bazaars, engaged landaus and proceeded to see the sights of this quaint African city.

Arabs, Moors, Spaniards, Jews, French, Germans, Maltese, and Italians――in fact, every nationality extant――seem to be represented here.

The City of Algiers was built about 935 A.D., was poorly governed by a long succession of Turkish deys, and fell under the yoke of French rule in 1830, obliterating the despotism which had long existed.

The Boulevards, beautifully adorned with arcades and lined on either side with orange and lime trees, are the scenes of magnificent equipages drawn by blooded Arabian horses.

The heat, though at times intense, is mitigated by a delightful cool sea-breeze.

The principal places of interest are the French bazaars, the Catholic cathedral, the hot baths of Hammam Phira, the marketplace, casino, public bath, coffee-houses, theatres, bank, quarters of the soldiers of the foreign legion, the Moulin Rouge, identical with the famous “Red Mill” of Paris, where “birds of a feather flock together,” and where _L’amour et la fumee ne peuvent se cacher_.

Discharging our landaus, we journeyed through the Rue Bab Azoun, passing here and there groups of French and Moorish soldiers, and occasionally brushing against women of the true faith, whose veils hide many a beautiful face.

In the cabarets or cafés which line the plazas, French soldiers can frequently be heard singing the national air of France, the “Marseillaise.” The cosmopolites who comprise the foreign legion are an interesting body of soldiers, representing all nations, but serving under the dominion of the French government. Entering a cabaret where a game of roulette was in progress, we marines took a chance on the roll of the ivory ball, in which some of the party increased their wealth considerably. About every fourth turn of the ball, wine was dispensed. I had been very lucky in my play, having several times picked the number, column, and color at the same time, to the great disgust of the croupier, whose radiant smile beams only when the wheel wins.

As conversation had become boisterous and my luck had taken a sudden turn, I cashed in, and, after thanking the croupier for his kind donations, whose smile portrayed a feeling of derision, I made my exit.

After depositing for safe keeping, in one of the leading hotels, numerous curios and several hundred dollars in French currency, I roved at random through the city without any special point of direction.

Having heard a great deal about the interesting sights to be seen in the “Kasbah,” the Moorish quarter, which is the ancient fortress of the deys and commands a view of the city from a height of five hundred feet above sea level, I ventured to this weird section of the city. Climbing the long winding stairway, or steps of stone, I soon found myself encompassed by a collection of wild-looking Moors in flowing robes, turbans, and sandals, the women similarly dressed, whose veiled faces showed only their eyes, and the artistic tattooing in the centre of their eyebrows, pranced through dimly lighted lanes, like Rip Van Winkle’s hobgoblins of the Catskills.

Being unable to hold conversation with these barbarians, I contented myself with being a silent spectator of their grotesque actions.

After making the rounds of various places of interest, where it was distinctly obvious that I was an unwelcome visitor, I decided to return to the better-lighted and more civilized plazas of the city. As I tried to figure out my bearings on an imaginary compass, I became bewildered, and in consequence followed any street which had an incline.

From the main street of the “Kasbah” are numerous short streets or lanes, which seem to have no connection with other streets, terminating at the entrance to a building. I had tried various ways to reach the steps I had climbed, without success, and here realized the importance of having a guide or an interpreter. Finally I sighted the rays of a search-light, and later a light on the mainmast of a merchant marine entering the bay. Following in the direction of this light, I reached a badly lighted portion of this section of the city overlooking a precipice, when, without a semblance of warning, my arms and feet were pinioned, I was gagged with a roll of hemp, which was placed under my chin and drawn taut around my neck. I made a desperate struggle, but was helpless without the use of my arms, and was compelled to yield when a blood-thirsty brigand placed the point of a dirk against the spring of my affections,――namely, the region of my solar plexus; and it is needless to say that “to slow music” I was relieved of my personal possessions, including my watch, chain, finger-ring, keys, money, letters, and trinkets, by six Moorish brigands, who kindly refrained from casting me over the precipice. As they broke away, I was left to ponder in amazement.

It was absolutely futile for me to think of an attempt at anything except that of securing myself and reaching the heart of the city. At this juncture, and to my great surprise, I was delighted to see, coming out of one of the narrow streets, my friend Mr. O’Mally the pedestrian and his interpreter. Recognizing him instantly, I informed him as to what had happened, which brought a cry from his interpreter for the gendarmes and soldiers. In a few moments the soldiers and police had arrived, and I led them in the direction the bandits had taken, but at night it is impossible to distinguish one Moor from another, for like Chinese they all look alike at night; therefore, the soldiers contented themselves in beating them indiscriminately, as the Moor is the French soldier’s bitterest enemy.

These soldiers, unlike the American soldier, carry their side arms when off duty, and it was with great difficulty that the gendarmes prevented some of the Moors from being killed. At one stage of the game we had a battle royal, and there are a number of Moors in the “Kasbah” who carry scars as evidence of this night’s fracas.

On our return to the plaza, I discovered that besides leaving the buttons on my blouse the robbers had overlooked two gold napoleons which I carried in the watch-pocket of my trousers, and, as the French soldiers were not averse to accepting a potion of wine for their services, it was not long before we were drinking to the health of the United States and the French Republic.

Mr. O’Mally and his guide left the party in the “wee sma” hours of the morning, and, as three years intervened before my return to America, I lost all trace of this interesting gentleman.

Next day while returning to my ship, I received the intelligence that the other marines who had accompanied me ashore had fallen into the hands of the gendarmes for destroying the roulette-wheel and creating a general “rough house,” due, they claimed, to crooked work on the part of the croupier. Later in the day on paying a small fine they were released.

Our stay in Algiers covered a period of ten days, which included Easter Sunday. This was a gala day on the plazas and along the Boulevard; the services in the French cathedral were performed with great pomp and ceremony; flowers were banked in profusion, while the singing of the choir was decidedly of a rare quality.

Before leaving this memorable city I had the pleasure of attending a French masquerade ball in the Rue de Rome, where Parisian dancing novelties were introduced and where fantastic costumes had no limit.

The last day in Algiers was given to a reception, aboard the ship, to the foreign legations. As usual on these occasions, the ship was gayly decorated with flags of all nations. Easter lilies, which had been presented to the admiral by Algerians, fairly covered the quarter-deck. Dancing continued throughout the evening, the guests departing at midnight to the strains of the “Marseillaise.” A few hours later anchors were weighed, and, under a beautiful pale moonlight, our cruiser steamed out of the harbor, carrying with it everlasting memories of the picturesque City of Algiers.

After a cruise of four days the Island of Gozo was sighted, and ere long we had entered and anchored in Valetta, the capital of Malta. A large British fleet lay anchored here, also a yacht having on board his royal personage “The King of Siam,” who was making a cruise of the Mediterranean Sea. “The Duke and Duchess of York,” on board the _Ophir_ bound for Australia, for the opening of Parliament, was also sighted in the Mediterranean Sea.

The Island of Malta is of Arabic origin, but at present an English possession. It is frequently mentioned in Biblical history, having been conquered by the Romans two hundred and fifty years before the birth of Christ.

Near the City of Valetta a spot is pointed out as having been the place where Paul the Apostle’s ship was wrecked.

I heard Captain McKenzie of the _New York_ remark to the admiral that Malta is the only place where a Jew cannot prosper, as a Maltese will beat a Jew.

The principal sights of Malta are the Strada san Giovanni in Valetta, a wide stone stairway lined on either side with buildings of ancient architecture, the ruins of a Roman villa and the Beggar’s Stairs. The Maltese are a musically inclined people, and at night it was very inspiring to hear the young people, as they coursed around the ship in “gondolas,” singing selections from the famous “La Traviata” to the accompaniment of mandolins and guitars, invariably offering as an encore, the ever beautiful, Venetian “Yama Yama,” famous for ages along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.

It was with regret that Alexandria, our next port, was to end our cruise on this magnificent body of water.

IV.

From the Pyramids of Egypt to Singapore

The Pyramids of Gizeh――The Sphinx――A Famous Relic of the Honeymoon
of Cleopatra and Mark Antony――Cairo――Camel Caravansary en route
from Syria to Cairo――Suez Canal――Red Sea――Mt. Sinai――Aden――A
Monsoon in the Indian Ocean――Singalese of Ceylon――Singapore.

On the arrival of our ship at Port Said, Egypt, the haven of beach-combers and the most immoral city on the face of the earth, preparations were at once made for coaling ship. Lighters loaded with coal were towed alongside, and natives of the Nubian Desert relieved the crew of this detestable task. Men were granted liberty with the privilege of visiting Jerusalem or Cairo. It being necessary to travel by boat a long distance to Jaffa in order to get a train for the Holy Land, I decided to spend the time in seeing the sights of Cairo, the Pyramids, Sphinx, and the Nile.

Securing transportation, I boarded a train for the Egyptian capital; not a very pleasant trip, however, as the heat was intense, and thick gusts of dust were continually blown from the Sahara and Nubian Deserts.

The first novel sight that met my gaze was a camel caravansary with a band of Arabs on their way from Cairo to Syria. Upon entering the city, the Arabic architecture was the first to attract my attention, the mosques and minarets particularly appearing prominent. The streets were thronged with tourists of all nations; camels wending their way and donkeys for hire or sale at every corner gave the city the aspect of the “Far East.”

I visited the Sacred Gardens of the “Howling Dervishes,” the tombs of the Caliphs, an ostrich-breeding house, “Wells of Moses,” the mosque of the Sultan Hassan, and several museums containing relics of priceless value dating back to dynasties before the birth of Christ.

In Shephard’s Hotel, Napoleon’s headquarters during his campaign in Egypt, I saw, guarded with jealous care, the magnificent catamaran or gondola in which the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra cruised the Nile during her ostentatious honeymoon with Mark Antony.

After visiting the citadel and places of less interest, I journeyed to the streets where the music of the tomtoms was attracting attention. The shades of night having fallen and my appetite being keen, I sauntered into an Arabian café for dinner, where a string of Egyptian dancers amused the guests with the muscle-dance, far surpassing “Little Egypt” or “The Girl in Blue.” These dancers are serious in their art, and to snicker at them is to manifest ridicule and is considered an unpardonable breach of manners.

After my “Seely dinner,” every course of which was served quite warm, I repaired to my hotel and retired for the night.

The following day I engaged a hack and journeyed across the grand bridge of the Nile to the Pyramids and Sphinx. These landmarks of prehistoric ages, seventy in number and considered one of the seven wonders of the world, can be seen from a great distance looming up in the desert.

The Pyramids of Gizeh, on the west bank of the Nile, are the largest of the group. The first or Great Pyramid covers thirteen acres at the base, and is nearly five hundred feet high; it is honeycombed, and contains the remains of the ancient rulers of Egypt. One hundred thousand men were employed thirty years in its construction.

Following our guide through the cavernous catacombs, we finally reached the sarcophagus of Cheops, who ruled Egypt twenty-five dynasties before the Christian era. After a random tramp of more than an hour through this dreary dark abode, we returned to the light of day, and, climbing the Pyramid, reached a point from where Napoleon reviewed his troops after his campaign against the Mamelukes.

Lying three hundred feet east of the second Pyramid is the colossal form of the Sphinx, hewn out of solid natural rock, having the body of a lion with a human head. It is one hundred and seventy-two feet long and fifty-six feet high. The Sphinx was symbolic of strength, intellect, and force, and thousands of Egyptians were employed twenty years in its construction.

Having spent two days of most interesting sight-seeing in this old historical city, I returned to the cruiser, and after remaining a few days in the harbor of Port Said, commenced our journey through the Suez Canal.

This canal, which connects the Mediterranean and Red Seas, was built by Ferdinand De Lessepps, a Frenchman. France built the canal, but England owns it, although she permits Frenchmen to run it. The idea originally was not De Lessepps’, as there had been a canal connecting the Mediterranean and Red Seas thirteen centuries before Christ. When Napoleon was in Egypt, he also entertained the project, in order that France might supplant England in the eastern trade; but it required the indomitable courage and wonderful genius of De Lessepps to carry the herculean task to triumph.

The work was begun in 1860 and finished in 1869. One hundred million dollars were spent, and thirty thousand men were employed in its construction. The canal is eighty-eight miles long, twenty-six feet deep, one hundred feet wide at the bottom, and about three hundred feet wide at the top. The waters contain three times more salt than ordinary sea water. There are stations along the route where ships tie up to permit ships going in an opposite direction to pass. Its course lies through the Nubian Desert, the land which Pharaoh gave to Joseph for his father and brethren. An occasional drawbridge is in evidence where the caravansaries cross going to and coming from the Holy Lands.

A novel sight midway in the canal was a French transport loaded with French soldiers returning from the Boxer campaign in China. Vociferous cheering from the Americans was responded to by the Frenchmen.

After ploughing the waters of the Suez Canal, our ship entered Bitter Lake, where we anchored for the night, departing on our voyage at the break of dawn. Entering “The Gate of Tears,” a strait between Arabia and the continent of Africa, and so called from the danger arising to navigation caused by strong currents, we beheld the entrance to the Red Sea. The Twelve Apostles was the first memorial to remind us of the historical chronology of this broad body of water. These “apostles” seem to be of mysterious origin; they consist of twelve symmetrical columns of rock, which project from the sea in a straight line, the same distance apart, and shaped identically alike. Not far from the coast on our port side could be seen Mt. Sinai and Mt. Horeb, famed in biblical history. Some distance beyond is Mecca, the Jerusalem of the Mohammedans, near which a spot is pointed out as being the place where, under the providence of God, the Red Sea was divided, making a dry pass for the deliverance of the Israelites from their bondage in Egypt, under the leadership of Moses, the God-inspired liberator of his people.

Steaming by Mocha, celebrated for its production of the finest coffee in the world, we entered the harbor of Aden, our first port in Arabia. Aden is a city typical of the “Far East”; spices of a rich odor permeate the atmosphere for miles from the coast. The city is built in the crater of an extinct volcano, and has an altitude of one thousand feet, is strongly fortified, and commands the trade to India. Arabs engage in trade of all kinds; beautiful ostrich feathers, Bengal tiger skins, and ornaments of carved ivory, and souvenirs of sandal-wood are displayed in the bazaars. Aden is not the dreariest place on earth, but the few palm trees which surround the city only serve to remove it a bit from this inconceivable state.

The heat in this section of the world is intense, and, as we steamed out of the harbor of Aden, it seemed we were ploughing through molten copper; however, the nights were cool. After passing through the Straits of Bab el Mandeb and the Gulf of Aden, we entered the Indian Ocean, enjoying a delightful cool breeze; but soon encountered an interval of calm, which was followed by an East Indian “monsoon,” a veritable hurricane at sea. Engines were shut down, guns were lashed, hatches battened, and lookouts were strapped to the crow’s nest. Mountainous swells of water washed aboard the ship, and for nine hours the vessel was at the mercy of the waves. The storm having finally abated, our rigging was restored, awnings spread, and, after a few days of delightful cruising in the Indian Ocean, we entered the harbor of Colombo, the capital of Ceylon, firing the customary salute, which was returned by the forts and the various navies here represented.

Ceylon, a British possession, is an island in the Indian Ocean, lying southeast of the peninsula of Hindustan, and is covered with a rich luxuriance of tropical vegetation. The Singhalese are the most numerous of its inhabitants; they are devoted to Buddhism, the prevailing religion of the island. In Kandy, an inland town near the capital, the sacred tooth of Buddha is guarded with jealous care.

Ceylon is rich in metals, minerals, and precious stones; its gems, such as sapphires, rubies, topaz, garnets, amethysts, and cats-eye, have been celebrated from time immemorial. The interior of the island abounds with birds of paradise and immense bats resembling the vampire. Animals, such as the elephant, bear, leopard, wild boar, deer, and monkeys, roam at will, while the crocodile, tortoise, and large lizards, infest the bogs of the jungle. A celebrated mountain visible from Colombo is Adam’s Peak, which attains the height of 7420 feet above sea-level.

Colombo, the capital, a fortified city on the western side of the island, shaded by the trees of the cocoanut palm, is progressive as a maritime port and particularly as the entrepôt for the East India trade. The hotels are furnished with “punkahs,” while hammocks of rattan are stretched on every veranda.

In addition to the native Singhalese, Hindus, Tamils, Moors, Malays, and Portuguese engage in various occupations, a large number of these being employed on the coffee and tea plantations.

In the Prince of Wales Hotel I met some soldiers of the famous “Black Watch” who had participated in the Boer War and who had been sent to Colombo to recuperate; I accompanied them to their barracks, where we exchanged various curios.

A large revenue is derived by the government from the pearl-fishery in the Gulf of Manaar, and whales are captured off the coast.

Seven days were spent in the harbor of Colombo, after which our ship steamed across the Indian Ocean, and through the Straits of Malacca to Singapore, an island in the Straits Settlements, south of the Malay Peninsula, and eighty miles from the equator. It commands the highway leading from British India to China, and became a British possession by a treaty with the Sultan of Johore in the year 1824.

Singapore is the entrepôt for the trade of the Malayan archipelago and China; its chief exports are tapioca, tin, tortoise-shell, camphor, coffee, nutmegs, gutta percha, and rattan. Situated on the south side of the island, the town has a very oriental appearance, and its inhabitants represent sixteen nationalities speaking different tongues, the most enterprising of these being the Chinese. Though very warm, the climate is healthy and it is seldom subjected to quarantine.

For ages past the tiger has been a menace to Singapore, and the government’s archives record an average of three hundred Chinese and other natives carried off annually by these blood-thirsty man-eaters.

While lying in the harbor of Singapore, the crew of the _New York_ had the opportunity of witnessing a total eclipse of the sun. Astronomers from various nations had come to take observations and data for the official chronological records of their respective governments. It was an amusing sight to watch the natives as the eclipse passed over the sun; their superstition led them to believe that the end of the world had come, and their utterance and performance were ridiculous.

From Singapore our ship steamed into the China Sea for ports in the Philippine Islands.

V.

Hong Kong, China, and the Denizens of the Underworld

A Trip to Canton――“Happy Valley” the “Epsom Downs” of the Far
East――Discovery of an American Actress in an Opium Joint――A “Rough
House” in which Guns are Drawn――Moonlight Meditations on the
Quarter-deck of the _Rainbow_――Encounter with a Victim of Brain
Storm.

I had made numerous trips across the China Sea, and had been up and down the Chinese coast from Taku to Saigon several times, on board the United States Cruiser _New York_, during the Boxer campaign. On this particular trip, however, I was serving on board the United States Flagship _Rainbow_, in the capacity of orderly to the junior commander of the Asiatic fleet, the late Rear Admiral Wilde.

This trip had been looked forward to with great pleasure as our ship was scheduled for dry dock and this meant lots of shore leave for the crew.

Leaving Manila we steamed across the China Sea, which required about three days. After the usual quarantine inspections we entered the land-locked harbor and cast anchor near Kowloon, a town on the mainland of China.

Hong Kong is situated on Victoria Island and is a British possession; the island rises to an immense altitude on the slope of which, facing Kowloon, spreads the City of Hong Kong. The entrance to the harbor is well fortified and from a light-house on a cliff a powerful light is cast at night for miles over the China Sea.

Having visited Hong Kong several times, it was my desire this time to pay a visit to the more typical Chinese City of Canton. So, accompanied by the Japanese steward of the _Rainbow_, I secured passage on the British side-wheeler _Moonlight_.

The passengers seemed to represent every nation on earth. There were Bombay and Chinese merchants, American and European tourists, East Indian Sikhs, Japanese waiters, and Chinese sailors.

After an all night run on the Pearl River, dawn broke with our eyes fastened on this great Chinese city, Canton. Here years could be spent without learning a great deal about its historical calendar.

Entering through a gate of the old stone wall, we found the only European hotel in the city, the “Victoria,” where, after having had breakfast, we engaged two sedan chairs carried by coolies, and sought the places of interest. The streets are so narrow that two chairs can just barely pass each other. We visited the ancient pagodas, the execution ground and block where highbinders are beheaded, the markets, bazaars, and opium dens, and finally witnessed a Chinese wedding.

One of the interesting sights of the Pearl River is its floating population. It is estimated that three million Chinese live in junks on this river.

I was not at all reluctant to leave this relic of the dark ages for the more up-to-date city of Hong Kong. We know the nations of the earth are represented in our New York, but for real cosmopolitanism the “Queen’s Road” in Hong Kong makes old Broadway look like a street in a country village.

The principal enterprises of Hong Kong are shipping, the manufacture of chinaware, silk goods, sedan wood-work, and pyrotechnics. Labor is very cheap, and, as British imports are entered free of duty, the living in this city of the far East is very cheap.

Many Hong Kong Chinamen are educated in the English language, have adopted the customs and manners of the English people, and for cleverness in business and practical affairs are unexcelled.

A tram-way leads up the mountain-side to the Peak Hotel, from which you can be conveyed in sedan chairs to the zenith of Victoria Peak. At the Peak Hotel I met two American prospectors, with whom I played several games of billiards; these men had spent three years in Sumatra and were awaiting a liner for “Frisco.” With them I visited Happy Valley, the Chinese Court, the Dairy Farm, Douglass Castle, Kennedy Road, the Chinese market, the Royal Naval Canteen, the barracks of the Welsh Fusileers, the Highlanders, the Scots Guards, and the Sikhs, old Chinese joss houses, and the famous Traveller’s Inn, where British bar-maids do the honors.

Horse-racing is the favorite sport in Hong Kong, and the track at Happy Valley is the Epsom Downs of the Far East. A Derby is a signal for the suspension of business, and the excitement in the paddock, grand stand, and along the rail is akin to that at Sheepshead Bay on the day of the Brooklyn handicap.

The Chinese are born gamblers, whether playing at “fan tan” or picking the winners on the track. They will carry complete data of a horse: the distance he can go at his best; the weight he can best carry; whether fast or slow in starting; and whether a good or bad animal in mud; all this a Chinaman will study over before placing his money, and it is usually safe to follow his system.

Hong Kong, like all other cities of the earth, has its underworld. These labyrinthal subways, where flourish the opium dens, are as thickly infested with thugs as are the darkest recesses of Mulberry Bend. Having accompanied a party of Highlanders and Welsh Fusileers into these dimly lighted caverns, for the purpose of seeing opium smoked, we fell upon sights which seemed degrading even to a party of slumming soldiers; here and there in deep recess were cots on which reclined the sleeping forms of seminude victims of the yenhock. Further on, an American girl in a kimono approached me with the query as to what part of the United States I was from. Her flushed face indicated that she was under the influence of “samshu,” a popular native intoxicant. She told me how eager she was to get back to her native land, but how impossible it seemed to raise the price of the transportation. Her home she said was in St. Louis, that she had accompanied a theatrical troupe from San Francisco to Australia, which had stranded and disbanded in Sydney; from Australia she had accompanied a troupe through the Straits Settlements, and finally arrived in Hong Kong, only to fall a victim to the plague, from which she recovered, and finally drifted penniless into the abode of the denizens of the underworld. Her story was a sad one, but you meet the same class and hear similar stories in all cities of the world. As we bade her adieu and passed on through this “chamber of horrors,” we could hear her voice, singing, “Give me just one little smile; every little bit helps.”

There were some ugly-looking heathens in this underground bee-hive, and, before leaving, we played at “fan tan,” having considerable luck, which seemed to irritate an almond-eyed highbinder to such an extent that he broke up the game. This caused a Highlander to hand him a jolt on the eye, and this started a “rough house,” in which I was compelled to declare peace along the barrel of my Colt automatic; it looked like work for a coroner, but Chinese are afraid of a gun, and the resumption of order was momentary.

Having visited every nook and cranny of this quaint city during my ten days’ shore leave, I returned to the arduous duties about the deck of a “man-of-war.”

The _Rainbow_ had changed her position from the anchorage ground in the bay to a dry dock in Kowloon opposite the City of Hong Kong; here she was undergoing a process of renovation.

On board a “man-of-war” the hours for performing duty are divided into three watches, each watch commencing at eight bells. At eight o’clock commences what is known as the first watch, this watch is relieved at twelve o’clock by the mid watch, and this is relieved at four o’clock by the dog watch, the night watches being regulated the same as the day.

In the navy the non-commissioned officers of the guard exercise no authority over the orderlies of the admiral and “skipper,” and there is no posting an orderly, as in the case of a sentry, there being a mutual compact that each relief report promptly on the hour.

At night it is customary for each orderly to waken his own relief. As eight bells struck for the dog watch, I was in the bulkhead leading to the admiral’s cabin, testing my annunciator and receiving any verbal orders which might have been left by the flag-officer or officer of the deck. On this particular night Admiral Wilde, who “by the way” commanded the _Boston_ of Dewey’s fleet at the battle of Manila Bay, accompanied by Commander Staunton of the _Rainbow_, had left the ship to attend a dinner party on board the British commerce destroyer _Terrible_.

The old man being away, I spent my watch in leisure, as an admiral’s orderly takes orders from no one but the admiral. After sampling a few of his mild Manila cigars and running off a few letters on the typewriter, I climbed aloft to the quarter-deck, where the capstan and brass tompions of the big aft eight-inch guns shone bright in the moonlight.

What a night this was! Never on such a night could Dewey’s fleet have passed unseen the forts of Corregidor. There, stretching over the mountain-side of Victoria, lay the illuminated City of Hong Kong; the wavelets of the Pearl River, with its myriads of junks and sampans, seemed to dance in the moonlight; off at the entrance, from the tower of a light-house, a powerful revolving search-light cast its rays beyond the horizon of the China Sea. Here and there dotting the harbor were the “dogs of war” of the American, British, German, and French navies; large junks with colored Chinese lanterns at the bow, which trembled in the soft breeze, and an eye on either side, to guide it on its way, passed to and fro, like phantoms of the mist.

All was silent about the deck. The tramp, tramp, tramp of the big East Indian Sikh who patrolled the water front was the only sound to disturb the tranquillity of this dream-like night. As I leaned on the taffrail of the quarter-deck, in deep meditation, I thought of what a prodigious subject this scene would make for the pen of a Byron or a Browning, and that it was on such a night in Venice that Desdemona eloped with her tawny Moorish warrior.

As my eyes feasted on the grandeur of these moonlight scenes, the tongue of the bell tolled seven; it was half past eleven and time to call my relief. With a dark lantern I started for the berth-deck; near the entrance to the conning tower I was approached by an excited sailor, who asked my opinion of the terrible massacre in Hong Kong. I informed the fellow that I had heard nothing of a massacre, whereupon he volunteered to show me a bulletin; leading the way to the pilot-house, he found it locked; gazing through the window, the man exclaimed, “Look there! read that!” The light was on, and, sure enough, there was a scrip attached to the wheel, the writing of which it was impossible to read.

Having aroused my curiosity, I further inquired as to the circumstances leading to the massacre. For several minutes the fellow was non-committal, acting surprised at my ignorance in not even having heard the report of the guns. Impulsively he shouted, “Look there! see that cloud of smoke? The Inniskilling Dragoons have fired on the Royal Artillery, and, as the result of the conflict, ten thousand natives lie strewed in death.” This unusual surprise did not exactly paralyze me, but it was the cue for me to make my exit, which I did with symptoms of the ague, having made an excuse to go below for a pair of binoculars that we might gaze on the scene more clearly.

This was my first experience with a victim of brain storm, and, although I shrink from the admittance of “having cold feet,” I must admit that the atmosphere on this occasion was unduly chilly.

On the main deck I met some coal-passers who had been gambling in the engine-room; apprising these fellows of there being a crazy man on deck, we concurred in the advisability of notifying the master at arms and having him put away for safe keeping. In a short time the fellow was manacled and led to the brig, protesting his innocence of having been a party to the massacre.

Upon examination by the surgeon, the man was removed to the “sick bay,” where it developed that the unfortunate fellow was suffering from acute melancholia. During the investigation to consider the advisability of sending him to a sanitarium in Yokohama, he tried to cough up a ten-inch shell which he claimed to have accidentally swallowed. Having undergone a course of treatment on the Island of Hondo, Japan, the fellow fully recovered, and I have since learned that he regained his normal health and is prospering in the middle West.

Upon completion of our ship in dry dock, we bade adieu to the land of the heathen Chinee and steamed into the China Sea _en route_ to the Sula Archipelago, spending Thanksgiving in the harbor of Puerto Princessa on the Island of Palawan.

VI.

A Trip to Japan

Departure of the “Flag-Ship” from Manila――A Typhoon in the China
Sea――The Inland Sea of the “Rising Sun”――Baseball with the Kobe
Country Club――Fujiyama――Yokohama――Tokio, and the Imperial Palace
of the Mikado――A French Fleet Celebrates the Taking of the
Bastille――Unveiling of Perry’s Monument――A Reception on Board the
_New York_ to the Nobility of the “Flowery Kingdom.”

The United States Cruiser _New York_,――flying the ensign of Rear Admiral Rodgers, commander-in-chief of the Asiatic station, who had received orders to proceed to Yokohama, Japan, to participate in the unveiling of a monument erected by the Japanese government in commemoration of the achievement of Commodore Perry, his grandfather, who anchored there with his fleet in 1854, and, as ambassador sent by President Filmore, succeeded in opening the ports of Japan to foreign commerce,――drew anchor June 25, 1901, and steamed into the China Sea, with the gun-boat _Yorktown_ following in her wake.

The cruise was uneventful for the first few days, when, about 11 A.M. of the third day, the barometer suddenly dropped several degrees and dark, heavy clouds gave evidence that a typhoon was approaching. All sails on board were secured, guns were lashed, hatches battened down, and sou’westers donned by the lookouts. A few minutes later we were being rocked in a heavy sea; a terrible gale of wind, whistling through the ventilators, brought relief to the coal-passers below. Our deep fog-whistle was blown every minute, and the boatswain and his mates were active and constantly on the alert. Our engines were kept going as usual, and by evening the typhoon had broken and we were sailing on a fair sea off the coast of Formosa.

After two days’ more sail, occasionally passing a man-of-war or mail-steamer, we sighted the beautiful islands of the Inland Sea, the land of the Rising Sun, which we entered at sunrise. This land-locked Japanese body of water is a broad lake over two hundred miles long, filled with islands and sheltered by uneven shores. From sunrise to dark, shadowy vistas opened and peaceful shores golden with ripening grain slipped by. There was nothing to disturb the dream-like charm, and yet human life and achievement were constantly in sight. Along the shores stretched chains of villages, with stone walls, castles, and temples soaring above the clustered roofs, or peeping from wooded slopes were terraced fields of rice and grain, ridging every hill to its summit and covering every lower level.

Dotted throughout this fairy-like lake are stone torrils, miniature light-houses, which guide the ships at night. Junks and sampans lie anchored in fleets or creep idly across the water, and small coasting steamers thread their way in and out among the islands. For miles we steamed by what is supposed to be the most picturesque scenery in the world. It was yet twilight when Kobe was seen in the distance at the head of the Inland Sea, sheltered from the land by the range of mountains back of it. We entered the harbor after having been inspected by the Japanese quarantine officials, and anchored astern of the British battleship _Aurora_. Before the last notes of tattoo were sounded our booms were spread and launches lowered, and the beautifully illuminated city of Kobe lay before us. Kobe means “Gate of God” and is the model foreign settlement of the eastern part of Japan, with a population of 215,000.

A pretty park in the heart of the concession, shaded by camphor trees 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.