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