November 24th.—Leaving the squadron to the joy and festivities of Shanghai, once more we head for Hong Kong. We thought then it was for the last time; but hopes have been shattered so frequently of late that we were not prepared to bet on it.
Whilst at anchor, awaiting the tide to cross the outer bar, our attendant pilot boat came to grief under our bows. Everybody who knows anything of Chinese rivers—of the Yangtsze in particular—will have often remarked how great a velocity the current attains at near low water, making boating alongside a ship an almost impossible and extremely hazardous proceeding. The water hisses, seethes, and boils past the sides as if the ship was under weigh in a heavy sea; thus when the little vessel reached our bows there was nothing to save her. Fortunately she came down upon us in such a manner that she escaped with the loss of mainmast and sail, whilst a little damage was done to our head-gear in the scrimmage.
November 30th.—Again the well-known rig of the Canton fishing junks heaves in sight, and ere long the equally well-known outline of Victoria Peak, the most welcome sight on the station, after all said and done. In a few hours that prince of bumboat men, old Attam, had paid us a visit, giving us a kindly welcome, with his good-tempered, ever-smiling, and flat celestial face.
December 20th.—To-day at noon the flying squadron came in from the northward. Their arrival was awaited by eager and expectant crowds thronging the shore, in anticipation of witnessing the landing of the young royal middies. In this they were disappointed. The same absence of ceremony and reserve was to be observed here, with respect to the queen's grandsons, as was recently followed out in Shanghai, and which gave so much umbrage to the residents of that city. It was soon officially known that whilst staying at Hong Kong, the princes would be publicly recognised simply as "mids."
The Europeans and other foreign residents were quite prepared to do the honors handsomely, had things been ordered differently. These shortcomings were however amply compensated for by the magnificence of the Chinamen. It did not signify to them as to how the princes were to be treated; to them they were the queen's grandsons, midshipmen or not.
The two nights immediately preceding Christmas Day were devoted to the grandest display of fireworks and illuminations I have ever witnessed, and which, possibly, few men see but once in a lifetime. All accounts of China agree that in the pyrotechnic art the Chinese stand alone, unequalled.
We have all, no doubt, been struck when reading of the wonderful changes of form assumed by their fireworks in the air. This, like many other descriptions about this people, is rather misleading. What actually does take place I will endeavour to show; only bear in mind the most perfect description must fall far short of the startling reality.
In the present instance two skeleton, tower-like structures of bamboo were erected in the soldiers' drill ground, and within this simple framework all the business was to be transacted. Seats for the accommodation of the governor and other high functionaries, and for the leading Chinese, were set up at a convenient distance, whilst the respectable public were permitted within the enclosure. For several hours before dusk, relays of coolies had been bearing into the open space curious-looking balls of wicker, innocent of anything like the gorgeous things they really were. At sunset the programme opened. One of the balls was hoisted to the top of a tower, and set fire to in its ascent, so that by the time it had reached its highest altitude it was all one blaze. But behold the change! so sudden and brilliant that a shout expressive of admiration was involuntarily sent up by the sea of faces around. In place of the homogenous ball, hundreds of small figures of mandarins and ladies, some seated at tables, some riding on mules, others playing at shuttlecock or flying kites, and all clothed in the most beautiful garments, and around which innumerable squibs were hissing and cracking, revealed themselves to our astonished gaze. Another change! The human element disappears. Birds and flowers, with swarms of brilliant butterflies flitting amongst them, and alighting on their gorgeous petals, the light all the time ever-changing and varying in color. These in their turn disappear, and a grand pagoda suddenly drops, as from the skies, out of the burning mass, its different storys all distinctly marked by parti-colored lamps, whilst little rockets are continually going off at all its windows. What, not finished yet? No; exit pagoda, enter a royal crown, dominating the Prince of Wales' feathers, with the initials "A V" and "G" underneath. Bear in mind all these changes emanated from the same ball, which was but one of scores such, and all different. Each ball generally wound up in one tremendous report, and a rocket, which shot far into the night, and whose sparks, scintillating for awhile in space, rivalled in brilliancy the tints of the stars.
This was but the first part of the entertainment; a far prettier was yet to come. Starting from the various Chinese guilds, and uniting in front of the governor's house, a grand procession, over a mile long, commenced the perambulation of the streets of the city. Each man bore on his shoulders exaggerated representations of all the domestic and food animals used in the Chinese menage, principally fish, fowls, and pigs, constructed of bamboo framework covered with tinted gauze, and illumined from within by colored candles. Illuminated shops, trophies, interiors, representations in character from the sacred books, the figures being real and resplendent in the most beautiful silks, were amongst the most important objects in the ceremonial. Bands of music—save the mark!—filled up the intervals. Towards the end of the procession came two dragons—a gold one and a silver one—of such a length that each required somewhere about thirty pairs of bearers. They were divided into sections, to every one of which a pair of men was attached, illumined from within, and covered with a rich scaled brocade, in which the bearers themselves were also enveloped, their legs and feet appearing from underneath like the legs of a huge centipede.
Whilst on the subject of dragons I may just mention a curious ceremony I witnessed, during the earlier part of the day, in connection with one of these—the gold one—in the present ceremonial. The occasion was the instillation of life into the legendary monster. He was conducted by his bearers to the largest temple in the city, where a yellow-robed bonze was in waiting to receive him. On the huge head being brought to the door the farce commenced. Taking a live cock in his hand, the priest pricked its comb in three several places, and with the blood proceeded to mix some vermilion paint, in a small china vessel. With this pigment he now described three cabalistic signs on a piece of yellow paper, which he stuck on the monster's forehead, at the same time touching with his brush the eyes, the cavernous jaws, and horrible fangs of the animal. This completes the business, and the dragon proceeds on its sinuous way amidst the howling and contortions of a superstitious and excited mob.