A Woman In China

by Mary Gaunt

At last we arrived at the river, a broad, swift-flowing, muddy river running along the bottom of the valley and apparently full to the brim, at least there were no banks, and needless to say, of course, there was not a particle of vegetation to beautify it. There was a crossing here very like the ferrying-place I had crossed on my journey up, and there were a row of long boats with one end of them against the bank. It was raining hard when I arrived, and the litter was lifted down from the mules, but the only thing to do was to sit still and await the arrival of Tuan and my baggage in the Peking cart.

They came at last, and the rain lifting a little Tuan set about preparing one of the boats for my reception.

I must confess I looked on with interest, because I did not quite see how I was going to spend several days with a servant and three boatmen in such cramped quarters. The worst of it was there was no getting out of it now if I did not like it, it had to be done. Though I do worry so much I always find it is about the wrong thing. I had never—and I might well have done so—thought about the difficulties of this boat journey until I stood on the banks of the river, committed to it, and beyond the range of help from any of my own colour. For one moment my heart sank. If it had been the evening I should have despaired, but with fourteen good hours of daylight before me I can always feel hopeful, especially if they are to be spent in the open air. The wupan is about thirty-seven feet long, flat bottomed, and seven feet wide in the middle, tapering of course towards the ends. In the middle V-shaped sticks hold up a ridge pole, and across this Tuan put a couple of grass mats we had bought for this purpose, then he produced some unbleached calico—and when I think of what I paid for that unbleached calico, and how poor the Chinese peasants are, I am surprised that the majority of them do not go naked—and proceeded to make of it a little tent for me right in the middle of the awning. I stood it until I discovered that the idea was he should sleep at one end and the boatmen at the other, and then I protested. What I was to be guarded from I did not know, but I made him clearly understand that one end of the boat I must have to myself. There might be a curtain across the other end of the awning, that I did not mind, but I must be free to go out without stepping on sleeping servant or boatmen. That little matter adjusted, much to his surprise, the next thing we had to think about was the stove. I wanted it so placed that when the wind blew the matting did not make a funnel that would carry the smoke directly into my face. But that is just exactly what it did do, and I've come to the conclusion there is no possible way of arranging a stove comfortably on a winding river. We tried it aft, and we tried it for'ard, and when it was aft it seemed the wind was behind, and when it was for'ard the wind was ahead, and whichever way the smoke came it was equally unpleasant, so I decided the only thing to be done was to smile and look pleasant, and be thankful that whereas I required three meals a day to sustain me in doing nothing, my boatmen who did all the work and had a stove of their own, apparently, sustained life on two. The ideal way would be to have a companion and two boats, and then the trip would be delightful. As it was I found it well worth doing.

The rain stopped that first day soon after we left the crossing-place, and from the little low boat the mountains on either side appeared to tower above us, rugged, precipitous, sterile; they were right down to the waters edge and the river wound round, and on the second day we were in the heart of the mountains, and passed through great rocky gorges. It was lonely for China, but just as I thought that no human being could possibly live in such a sterile land, I would see far up on the hills a little spot of blue, some small boy herding goats, or a little pocket of land between two great rocks, carefully tilled, and the young green crops just springing up. And then again there were little houses, neat, tidy little houses with heavy roofs, and I wondered what it must be like to be here in the mountains when the winter held them in its grip. Somehow it seemed to me far more lonely and desolate than anything I had seen on my way across country.

We always tied up for the men to eat their midday meal, and we always tied up for the night. But we wakened at the earliest glimmer of dawn. They evidently breakfasted on cold millet porridge, and I, generally, was up and dressed and had had my breakfast and forgotten all about it by five-thirty in the morning. My bed took up most of the room in my quarters, I dressed and washed on it, a bath was out of the question, and pulling aside the curtains sat on it and had my breakfast, the captain of the boat, the gentleman with the steering-oar, looking on with the greatest interest.

He spoke to Tuan evidently about my breakfast, and I asked him what he said.

“She say what a lot you eat,” said Tuan. “Not in ten days she have so much.”

And I was surprised, because I had thought my breakfast exceedingly frugal. I had watched the eggs being poached, and I ate them without butter or toast or bacon, I had a dry piece of bread, tea, of course, and some unappetising stewed pears. But by and by I was watching my captain shovelling in basinsful of millet porridge, about ten times as much as I ate, and I came to the conclusion it was the variety he was commenting on, not the amount.

They were things of delight those early mornings on the river. At first all the valley would be wrapped in a soft grey mist, with here and there the highest peaks, rugged and desolate, catching the sunlight; then gradually, gradually, the sun came down the valley and the mists melted before his rays, lingering here and there in the hollows, soft and grey and elusive, till at last the sunlight touched the water and gave this muddy water of the river a golden tint, and all things rejoiced in the new-born day. The little blue kingfishers preened themselves, the blue-grey cranes with white necks and black points that the Chinese call “long necks” sailed with outspread wings slowly across the water, and the sunlight on the square sails of the upcoming boats made them gleam snow white. For there was much traffic on the river. Desolate as the country round was, the river was busy. The boats that were going down stream were rowed, and those that were coming up, when the wind was with them, put out great square sails, and when it was against them were towed by four men. They fastened the towing rope to the mast, stripped themselves, and slipping a loop over their heads fixed it round their chests and pulled by straining against a board that was fast in the loop. The current was strong, and it must have been hard work judging by the way they strained on the rope. The missionaries were afraid I would be shocked at the sight of so many naked men, but it was the other way round, my presence, apparently the only woman on the river, created great consternation, for the Chinaman is a modest man. Badly I wanted to get a photograph of those straining men, for never have I seen the Chinese to greater advantage. In their shabby blue cotton they look commonplace and of the slums, you feel they are unwashed, but these suggest splendid specimens of brawny manhood. They don't need to be washed. However, as we approached, boatmen and servant all raised their voices in a loud warning singsong. What they said, I do not know, but it must have been something like: “Oh brothers, put on your clothes. We have a bothering foreign woman on board.” The result would be a wild scramble and everybody would be getting into dirty blue garments, only some unfortunate, who was steering in a difficult part or had hold of a rope that could not be dropped was left helpless, and he crouched down or hid behind a more lucky companion. If there had been anybody with whom to laugh I would have laughed many a time when we met or passed boats on the Lanho. But I never got a really good photograph of those towing men. My men evidently felt it would be taking them at a disadvantage, and the production of my camera was quite sufficient to send us off into mid stream, as far away from the towing boat as possible.