The Chinese troops were sent to Chefoo or to other places of safety; and the ships captured, not including the released gunboat, ten in all, were manned by Japanese sailors, and proceeded under these prize-crews to Japan. The released boat, Kwang Tsi, was employed as a transport, and in this way I found safety at last.
As soon as the arrangements had been concluded, I made application to be sent to Chefoo, where I anticipated to meet Captain Goldheugh. I had had no messages from home for some time save those delivered to friend Tomi, and now that the excitement of war and adventure had subsided I was anxious to leave. Perhaps had I made application to the British commander he would have given me a passage to Shanghai, but I had been expecting to meet my captain at Chefoo, and determined to proceed thither. As the gunboat was sailing I requested a "lift" in her, but was warned not to go.
"Your life would not be safe," said one of the officers. "Try a junk, the distance is nothing, and a junk is safe enough. You pay him when he returns with a letter saying you are safe."
"But I have no money—at least, hardly any."
"Quite so," replied Tomi cheerfully. "That is my affair. You will see your captain, no doubt, and he will assist you. We will signal a junk somehow—presently. The fleet is returning westward."
I thanked my kind entertainers heartily, and protested against their thus paying the piper. But Tomi was a favourite, and the captain's nephew. The captain himself at once "shut me up," good-naturedly, and though he could not send me in one of his boats to Chefoo, he managed to procure me transport to the port, and sent a sailor with me as surety for my safety.
Having taken a regretful farewell of my kind friends I embarked on a junk in the harbour, such a queer craft she seemed. Tomi was in command of the ship's boat which put me on board, and we had quite an affecting parting. But both hoped to meet again, promising to write,—a promise since kept up, when newspapers do not sometimes take the place of letters. (Tomi has sent me much information since, and has translated several articles accompanied by pictures.[[1]]) However, we parted rather sadly, and on the 19th February I lost sight of the fleet, and reached Chefoo before dark.
[[1]] These are mentioned in the Preface.—H.F.
A cruise in a junk is not unpleasant, but she seems to a European a very queer boat. The size varies, of course, from a thousand tons downwards; the particular craft I engaged was about half that burden, or perhaps less, teak-built, and carrying a high poop; she had two masts, the mainmast with a large sail was very lofty indeed; and she carried a crew of, I think, twenty men—I believe there are more at sea. At anyrate she suited me, and so I came to Chefoo in the Ching King, and was landed near the English houses.
Chefoo or Chifu is the name of the treaty port, which is in fact the "European" settlement as distinguished from Yen Tai the native town. The port is open all the year, and being also a healthy place is more or less frequented by others than business men. The English settlement is on the left, the Chinese town on the right, and in the centre rises the "signal hill" which divides them. When we reached the "stranger" town we found several vessels sheltered there, and numerous junks, boats, and small craft lying darkly in the water, while the hills above were thickly covered with snow, giving quite an Alpine aspect to the surroundings. Chefoo is a kind of "suburb" of Shanghai, though "outside the radius," and hither come the ships to their haven under the hill, to the sandy shore, to deal in cottons and "shirtings" with the Celestial inhabitants of the (as usual) dirty Chinese town.