From Job to Job around the World

by Alfred C. B. Fletcher

I had just seated myself in my compartment when an Englishman entered and asked if I would mind if a Russian shared quarters with me. I had no objections and the Russian came in. The train pulled out and as soon as my new travelling companion had his luggage adjusted I attempted to engage him in conversation. The man could not speak a word of English and I knew nothing of Russian. I was in for three days of silence, I thought. We resorted to gestures and drawing pictures. In this way, I learned that my new friend was an artist and, I informed him by the same means, of my purposes in life.

To confine myself to the truth it must be stated that the Russian knew two words of the English language and these were, "President Taft." I discovered this when he took from his little travelling trunk two small glasses and a bottle of Benedictine. He poured out the liquor, handed a glass to me and, drinking a toast, said, "President Taft." I would not be outdone so I returned the compliment by toasting a name which I thought ought to be the Russian for Nicholas. The artist recognised it and his face was one radiant smile as he drank his glass. These were the only words which passed between us during our three days together and they were made coherent with the bottle as a welcome interpreter.

The painter had, among his belongings, a large pamphlet with Russian phrases on one page and the English equivalent on the other. By means of this booklet we were able to exchange ideas. Sometimes, however, it would require almost an hour to put across a simple thought.

The first night we stopped at Tchang Te Fou and I made arrangements with the station master for the Russian and myself to sleep in the car. Most of the interior cities of China are surrounded by a wall and the railway stations are usually outside of this wall and often a couple of miles away. Before retiring the Russian and I had agreed, by means of the English-Russian pamphlet, to enter the walls of Tchang Te Fou and see the town and at the same time get something to drink, as the water on the train was very poor. We walked the two miles from the station to the city, entered the big gate and were soon wandering up the main street. We were at once a source of curiosity as our advent was, no doubt, the chief event of the year.

This city is seldom, if ever, visited by foreigners and we learned afterwards that there were only two in residence, these being missionaries. Consequently we were the main feature of interest to the simple but treacherous-looking inhabitants. As we proceeded up the street in the hope of finding a soda fountain or a saloon we accumulated a long train of curious citizens, beggars, naked children and nondescripts, who followed us and examined us with child-like simplicity. We finally came to a shop which had the appearance of a drug store. We looked over its stock for some thirst-quenching liquid. By this time our train of natives had increased to two hundred and they stood at the entrance of the shop while the proprietor restrained them from coming in. I spied two bottles of some unknown make of American beer perched on a shelf amidst Chinese medical concoctions and bought them. The Russian and I then made our way through the crowd at the door and started down the street to the train. The gang of Chinese tacked on and a solid procession of half the population of China, so it seemed to us, marched behind us. It was beginning to get dark and, as it was no uncommon thing for foreigners to enter some Chinese cities and never be heard of again, I became somewhat alarmed when several of the hangers-on began to beg for money and, when none was forthcoming, to pull at our coats and molest us. Two of the Chinese were especially persistent, one jerking the Russian's coat and the other making an effort to get his hands in my pockets. What a situation! It looked as though two speechless companions in danger would have to clean out the whole crowd of several hundred Chinese. The Russian gave me a look which I interpreted to mean that there was nothing to do but fight. The mere suggestion of such a thing unconsciously made me act and in a flash I swung on one of my assailants. I connected with his chin and floored him. Ideas go in and out of a man's brain in rapid succession in such moments, and I thought that the Russian and I would now have to fight the whole mob. I was mistaken. I didn't know my men, for the blow that ruined my opponent dispersed the entire crowd and they fled in all directions like chaff before the wind. A crisis had been passed and the Russian and I made haste to the station where we safely spent the night in the train.

The next day we had more trouble. This time it was with the railway police. I was showing a number of photographs of Chinese to my Russian friend when a policeman came along and asked in French if he could see them. I acquiesced, thinking the officer was simply interested. He wanted to show them to some of his friends in another car. I gave my consent with a nod of my head. As he had not returned at the end of an hour, I went through the train to find him. He was showing them to a score of his countrymen and said that he would bring them back in a few minutes. I returned to my car. Shortly the policeman appeared and gave me all the pictures except two. These he said he wanted to keep. I protested with him in French, for this was the language used by the employés of this railroad. He became so angry that he attempted to take back the photographs he had returned. The Russian came to my assistance and we threw the policeman out of our compartment into the aisle of the car. I took his number and told him that I would report him to Mr. Tze, the official of the railroad company who had given me my pass. The policeman recognised Tze's name and at once calmed down and said that he would return the missing pictures immediately. He did not return and I went after him again only to learn that he had got off the train at the last station. The man was now beyond reach and I was out two of my photographs. Why he wanted them, I don't know. It is hard to diagnose the workings of some people's brains and this policeman was one of them.

The second night our train went on a siding at Tchu Me Tien, a small isolated village. The station master would not grant us permission to sleep in the car, so we had to put up at a Chinese inn. A Japanese hotel is a model of cleanliness. A Chinese hotel is usually the reverse. This inn at Tchu Me Tien was the essence of filth, discomfort and heat. It is a safe statement to make that it was one of the most unsanitary, dilapidated and uncomfortable domiciles on this earth. The building was alive with naked and unwashed Chinese; our bedroom was occupied by a dozen hop-head coolies; the beds were made from the hardest wood obtainable; the unsanitary toilet was only a few feet away; the thermometer was hovering about the boiling point; and mosquitoes were as numerous as raindrops in Oregon and as large as bats. With all these inconveniences and pests, coupled with the fear of being robbed during the night by the proprietor of the hotel assisted by his guests, neither the Russian nor myself—who rested on the same plank together—got a wink of sleep.

A Pagoda Bridge in the Forbidden City
(Photograph taken by Mr. Sze Ping Tze)