Calvin Wilson Mateer, forty-five years a missionary in Shantung, China

by D. W. Fisher

At best the voyage could not be otherwise than tedious and trying. The accommodations for passengers were necessarily scant, the staterooms, being mere closets with poor ventilation, and this cut off in rough weather. The only place available for exercise was the poop deck, about thirty feet long; thus walking involved so much turning as greatly to lessen the pleasure, and many forms of amusement common on larger vessels were entirely shut out. Food on such a long voyage had to be limited in variety, and must become more or less stale. Of course, it was hot in the tropics, and it was cold away south of the equator, and again up north in November and December. Seasickness is a malady from which exemption could not be expected. When a company of passengers and officers with so little in common as to character and aims were cooped together, for so long a time, in narrow quarters, where they must constantly come into close contact, a serious lack of congeniality and some friction might be expected to develop among them.

The ship also, on that voyage, encountered distinctive annoyances and dangers. For weeks after they sailed they were in constant dread of Confederate privateers. Once they were so sure that they were about to be captured by a ship which they mistook for one of these destroyers of American commerce that they hastily prepared as well as they could for such a catastrophe. When they sailed from New York, the battle of Gettysburg was in progress and still undecided; and it was not until October 15 when they were overtaken by a vessel which had sailed eleven days after them from New York, that their anxiety as to the result was relieved, and their hearts were thrilled with exultation, by the news that Meade was victorious, and also that Vicksburg had fallen. Out among the islands to the northeast of Australia the ship was caught in a current, and was forced so rapidly and nearly on the wild, rocky shores of an uncivilized island that the captain himself despaired of escaping wreck. Providentially a breeze from the land sprang up and carried them out of danger. They were overtaken by no severe storms. Several times their patience was sorely tested by protracted calms; in the Pacific it once took them seventeen days to make three hundred and forty miles.

All of these things lay beyond the control of the officers and crew, and the missionaries accepted them as trials to which they ought quietly and patiently to submit. But imagine as added to this a half year’s subjection to the arbitrary and autocratic rule of a captain who was ignorant except as to seamanship; who was coarse and constantly profane in speech; who was tyrannical and brutal so far as he dared to be, and yet when boldly faced by those who were able to bring him to account for his conduct was a contemptible coward; who skimped the people on board of food adequate in quantity or decently fit in quality, partly because of stingy greed, and partly from a desire thus to gratify his malignant disposition; who hated missionaries and seemed to have a special pleasure in making their lives on his ship as uncomfortable as possible; who barely tolerated such religious observances as the asking of a blessing at meals, or a service for social worship on the Sabbath in the cabin, and who forbade all attempts to do any religious work, even by conversation, among the crew; who was capable of descending to various petty meannesses in order to gratify his base inclinations; and who somehow yet managed to secure from officers under him a measure of sympathy and coöperation in his conduct. When we have as fully as possible grasped these things, we can understand why Dr. Mateer, half a lifetime afterward, wrote to his college classmates that if in order to reach America it had been necessary to repeat the experience of that outward voyage, it is doubtful if ever again he had seen his native land.

But at last this voyage was nearing its end. They might have reached port some days earlier, had it not been that all the crew except three or four had—through lack of proper food and other bad treatment—been attacked by scurvy, a disease already then having been almost shut out even from sailing vessels on long trips. On December 16 they had the happiness of going ashore at Shanghai, where they soon found a welcome in the homes of missionaries and of other friends. Corbett was not well, and Mateer always believed that the health of both Julia and Corbett was permanently injured by the treatment received on that outward voyage.

On the voyage the missionaries warned the captain that they would surely hold him to account for his conduct, when they reached Shanghai. They kept their word. After consultation with the missionaries on the local field, with a lawyer, and with the American consul, they determined to proceed with formal charges against him. Learning of this, he lost no time in coming to them, and, with fear and trembling, he begged that they would have mercy on him. A second interview was appointed, but Corbett was too unwell to see him, and Mateer had to meet him alone. In his Journal he says:

I took the paper which had been read to the consul, and read it to him giving copious comments and illustrations, at the same time asking him to explain or correct if he could. I never in my life gave any man such a lecturing. I just kept myself busy for an hour and a half telling him how mean and contemptible a scoundrel he was. I then offered him as a settlement of the matter a paper which I proposed to publish, stating in it that he had apologized and that we had agreed to suspend prosecution. From this he pled off in the most pitiful manner, saying that he would be ruined by it.

The third day he came again and made such an appeal for mercy that Mateer’s sympathy, and also his desire to avoid detention at Shanghai, led him to agree to accept a private apology, and to refer the matter to the interested parties at New York. Years afterward Mateer, on going aboard a coasting steamer bound for Shanghai, discovered that this man was the captain. He at once cancelled his passage, and went ashore until he could secure a place on another vessel.

Tengchow is distant more than five hundred miles from Shanghai. The only way to reach it was by a second voyage northward along the coast to Chefoo, and thence overland. On January 3, 1864, the Mateers and the Corbetts went aboard the little coasting steamer “Swatow,” bound for Chefoo. They had a head wind, and the ship was almost empty of cargo. They suffered again from seasickness, and from cold on account of lack of bed-clothing. On the evening of the third day out, at about half-past eight, they were sitting around the stove expecting soon to be at Chefoo, when suddenly the vessel struck the bottom and the bell rang to reverse the engine. Bump followed bump, until it seemed as if she must go to pieces. The captain, though not unfamiliar with the route, had allowed himself to be deceived by the masts of a sunken ship, and supposing this to be a vessel at anchor in the harbor of Chefoo, had gone in, and his steamer was now hard and fast on the bottom, about fifteen miles down the coast from his destination. We will allow Mateer in his Journal to tell his own story.

All was a scene of indescribable confusion. The captain lost all self-possession and all authority over his men. Most of his crew and servants were Chinese or Malays, and on such an occasion the worst features of their character shine out. They refused to do anything and went to packing up their few goods and at the same time seizing everything they could get hold of. They went everywhere and into everything, pilfering and destroying. Meanwhile the waves were striking the vessel at a fearful rate, and threatening to break it into pieces. We knew not what to do, or what we could do. The mates and two passengers (a merchant and an English naval officer) lowered a boat and, pushing off, succeeded in landing and in making a rope fast from the ship to the shore. They found that we were much nearer the land than we had supposed. We were now in a great quandary what to do, whether to remain on the ship, or get in the boat and go ashore. We mostly inclined to remain, but the captain urged us to go ashore. While the wind remained moderate we could stay on the ship with safety; but if the wind should increase before morning we might be in danger of our lives. The captain said that he thought that it was not more than eight or nine miles to Chefoo, and he was anxious that word should be sent there. We at length yielded to his advice, and about eleven o’clock got into a boat and managed to get ashore through the surf. It was a bitter cold night, and we loaded ourselves with blankets which we supposed would come into requisition to keep us warm. Our party consisted of nine passengers (we four, Rev. Williamson and wife and child, and Rev. McClatchie—all missionaries—and Mr. Wilson, a merchant, and Mr. Riddle, a naval officer) and six Chinamen. Our hope was to set out in the direction of Chefoo, get a lodging for the ladies and Mr. Corbett by the way, while the rest of us pushed on to Chefoo to obtain assistance. We started off according to this plan, but soon found our way stopped by fields of ice, and we were compelled to turn from our course and seek the hills which towered up in the distance. The walking was very fatiguing; indeed, the ground was covered several inches with snow, and at many places there were large cakes and fields of ice. After long and weary tramping and turning and disputing about the best way, we at length reached the hills. I mounted to the top of the first hill and tried to get the party to go up over the hill and directly inland until we should find a house or village. Other counsels prevailed, however, and we wandered along the foot of the hill the best part of a mile. At length I got in the lead, and persuaded them that no houses would be found unless we went inland from the barren beach. We then crossed the ridge at a low place and retraced our steps on the other side of it, and finally, after much urging, persuaded those who wanted to sit down until morning to follow on inland on the track of some of our Chinamen. We soon came to a village, which was indeed a welcome sight. We were cold, and our feet were wet, and we were very tired, especially the ladies. Our troubles were not over yet, however, for we could not induce any of the Chinese to let us in. It was now four o’clock, and we were suffering from the effects of five hours’ wandering in the snow and cold. Yet they persistently closed their doors and kept us out. Mr. Williamson and Mr. McClatchie could talk to them some, yet they refused to receive us.