A NIGHT ADVENTURE IN YOKOHAMA.
By P. V. Alpiser, of the Bureau of Posts, Manila, Philippine Islands.
The traveller who has visited Japan has, as a general rule, nothing but good to say of the land and its very polite people; and as a rule, also, it may be said that such praise is well merited, for the Japanese certainly try exceedingly hard to please all visitors, and, if they do not always succeed, the fault in all probability lies with the visitors and not with the people. Unpleasant experiences rarely occur to the foreigner in the domains of the Mikado. The Japanese cities and the country are perfectly policed, and robberies are seldom heard of. However, I can testify from personal experience that one can meet with unpleasant incidents in this well-regulated kingdom.
In the early spring of 1903 I was journeying to the Philippines, and arrived in Yokohama during the latter part of April—in the midst of the cherry-blossom season, a most delightful time to visit Japan. The air was full of the agreeable aroma of the cherry blossoms, and all Yokohama was in festival attire, making a scene of great animation and gorgeousness.
On the evening of my last day, after dinner, I strolled through the main streets of the city, down gay Theatre Street, with its rows of flaunting, unreadable banners, and far out along a broad avenue across a number of oddly-constructed wooden bridges, not noticing and not caring whither I went.
My walk took me much farther than I had supposed, and when I started to return I discovered that a strong wind was blowing and a storm threatening. When about half-way back to the steamship pier I found, to my annoyance, that I had lost one of my gloves, and decided that I had left it in the small restaurant where I had had dinner—a very nice place kept by a Japanese family who had lived in Boston, Massachusetts, for a number of years, and which the doctor of our ship had highly recommended. It seemed to me that I could not be very far from this place, and I decided to call in for my glove. The restaurant was located in a side street in the curio district of the city, branching off from the main thoroughfare I was on.
When I turned down this side-street it was entirely deserted. Not a living thing was in sight and the road was absolutely and totally dark, neither the city nor the residents, apparently, providing any lights to illuminate the street. I had gone some little way down this gloomy lane when a door on the opposite side of the street suddenly burst open and two men jumped out and came running towards me. I stopped and asked them the whereabouts of the restaurant. One of them answered gruffly, and in bad English, that he did not know. I turned to go on, noting out of the tail of my eye that the men, after speaking together for a moment, followed me.
As I walked slowly away one of the pair gave a peculiar call.
It was instantly responded to by two more men, who stepped into the street from a house just behind me, and as the light from within the doorway shone upon them for a brief moment I plainly saw the glint of steel from a long knife one held in his hand.
Late that afternoon, as it happened, I had bought a heavy, curiously-carved cane as a souvenir, and, fortunately, I had this cane with me. Now, realizing that I was in a tight corner, I increased my pace somewhat, swinging the cane with the small end in my hand, and watching narrowly to prevent any one of the four from getting in front of me, or stealing upon me unawares from behind.
In another moment I saw they were preparing for a rush, and I knew that, although I might down one or two of them with my stick, the others would easily overpower me. Vainly I looked up the street; no one was to be seen! The houses on both sides were as black as pitch; there was not a light anywhere! Not even a star twinkled above, for heavy clouds obscured the sky.
For some reason it did not occur to me to call for help. In fact, I have always been a rather silent man, doing my work in the quietest manner possible, and taking my diversions in the same manner. I do not think I should have uttered a sound if these ruffians had ended my career then and there. Perhaps a cry would have brought me ready assistance from a score of adjacent houses, but it never occurred to me to give it.
I had proceeded but a short distance, always with an eye on my followers, when I saw, or felt, perhaps, that the rush was coming. I heard no sound, for the rascals were absolutely noiseless in their movements.
Hastily I jumped to the nearest house and, with my back to it, prepared to lay about with my stout stick. The four villains were right at my heels, he with the knife a little in advance of the others. A picture of the group at that moment would have made a most interesting souvenir of Japan.
I was just beginning to regret that I had not suffered the loss of my glove without protest, when the foremost scoundrel made a lunge towards me. Simultaneously, a loud ringing, clanging sound smote my ears, and the quartet disappeared from my view like magic. I am not sure now that I did not rub my eyes vigorously to see if I was awake.
The noise that had saved me proceeded from the next side-street parallel to the one I was on, and I was at a loss to account for it. It was repeated time after time, gradually growing fainter, and finally ceasing altogether.
Needless to say, I took instant advantage of the respite thus afforded me, and hurried along at my best pace. I felt sure that my late assailants would not give up their attempt so easily, and before I had gone thirty steps my fears were realized.
Glancing back nervously every few yards, I presently saw several dark shadows gliding along behind me, and I unconsciously drew over towards the opposite side of the street. As I passed very near the door of a house that protruded into the street some little way beyond the other buildings a side door burst open ahead of me and a young Jap stood in the doorway just long enough for the lamplight to strike squarely on his face and to reveal, to my surprise, the features of my rickshaw man of that very afternoon!
A low whistle sounded from behind me and the man jumped out of the door and stepped in front of me. It was quite plain to me that this rickshaw man, having seen that I carried considerable money that day, had organized this attempt to rob me, and that he was determined to succeed at any cost.
I was surrounded, but, so far as I knew, only one of the precious lot had a weapon—the man with the knife. I felt the rush again, the one in front and the two or three behind, and I jumped towards the house, but was compelled to turn before reaching it and defend myself.
My rickshaw man was the first upon me, and I had the sweet satisfaction of laying him flat on his back with a tremendous crack over the head. At the same instant, before I could turn, I felt the sharp swish of something flying past my head and heard the ripping of cloth at my side.
MR. P. V. ALPISER, WHO WAS ATTACKED BY ROBBERS IN A DARK STREET IN YOKOHAMA.
From a Photograph.
The man with the knife had slashed at me and had cut my clothes open from my right shoulder to my hip, but, luckily, so far as I could feel, without even scratching the skin. I swung about quickly, and as he raised his arm for another and perhaps more effective stroke brought my cane down fiercely on his arm; the knife fell to the ground with a clatter. Another of the rascals stooped to pick it up, while the rickshaw man began to sit up. It was a critical moment, but the age of miracles is not yet past!
Again that harsh, ringing clang broke through the blackness of the night, and this time from almost at my side, and a moment later into the street, a few doors away, there stepped a black figure, and brought a long steel rod down on the hard ground with a noise that sent all four of my assailants scuttling away into complete obscurity for once and all.
My rescuer was clad in a long black cloak with a sort of helmet on his head, also black, and carried a steel rod, perhaps eight feet long, to which were attached several iron rings and a long chain. He was, it appeared, a night-watchman, and as he proceeded on his rounds he struck the ground with the rod, thus announcing to all, evil-doers and righteous as well, that an arm of the law was at hand. This quaint old watchman—for he was quite old and grizzled—in his queer costume, seemed a relic of the Middle Ages; he was quite different from the regular Japanese policemen in their smart and jaunty uniform.
I stepped forward and, kicking something with my foot, stooped to see what it was, and found the knife which the would-be robbers had failed to carry off with them. The watchman silently surveyed me for a time, and then to my surprise spoke slowly in English. "You no good here!" he said; "go hotel soon!"
I lost no time in taking his advice, and in about an hour's time reached the hotel near the pier. To my intense astonishment, however, I found the doors locked. I tried for a few minutes to rouse someone, but failed entirely.
I then went to three other hotels, without better result. This consumed some time, of course, and finally, giving up in disgust, I walked back to the pier, entered the Customs House, and saw it was but a little past eleven o'clock. Think of it! Hotels closed, locked, and barred at 11 p.m.! This was another new experience for me; I had evidently not yet learned everything about Japan.
"I HAD THE SWEET SATISFACTION OF LAYING HIM FLAT ON HIS BACK WITH A TREMENDOUS CRACK OVER THE HEAD."
I then tried to get a boatman to take me out to my ship, but none would do so, all saying that a typhoon was blowing. "No can do; too much typhoon; turn boat down up!" There was nothing to be done, therefore, but to wait in a corner of the Customs House for daylight. When it came I hailed a sampan and went to the steamer, taking with me my cane and the knife—interesting souvenirs of my night's adventure.
