In the Yellow Sea

CHAPTER VI

SHANGHAI: ITS IMPRESSIONS—MURDER!—A RESCUE, AND A HAPPY ENCOUNTER

The steamer had proceeded up the coast, threading the Chinese Archipelago in the direction of the southern entrance to the Yang-Tse-Chiang, as English people mis-name it. The Chinese name it Kiang, or Ta Kiang, the former being the "river," the latter the "great river" (Kiang-tsi being the province). The Kiang runs for three thousand miles through North and Southern China, and is available for steamers for a long distance inland. The contrast between the blue ocean and the mud-tinged waters of the river is observable far from land.

To approach Shanghai we were compelled to proceed carefully in our little ship, because the Woosung River, on which the settlement is so well situated, is narrow and shallow in comparison with the Kiang. But when the last corner is turned and the concession comes into view, with its wharfs, brewery, cathedral, trees, fine houses, quays and streets, well supplied with water, gas, electric light, post-offices, telegraphs, and pillar-boxes; police of sorts, from the British "blue-bottle" to the Chinese "copper" in knickerbockers and gaiters, supplemented by the Sikh or Indian guardian of the peace in a blazing turban, who would more quickly disperse any youthful gathering in England by his mere appearance at the corner than the "bobby" of British aspect at home, the visitor is astonished.

The schooner anchored in the stream, and I was greatly surprised by the evidences of wealth which the beautiful houses and the esplanade, the wharfs and shipping, denoted. All these are so different from the ideas which the average and untravelled Britisher has conceived of China, that if he do not visit Hong Kong on the way out, nor stay in San Francisco on the way round, he will be fairly astonished at Shanghai, when he first views the settlements, and its prosperity.

Three concessions line the river, namely, the English, the American, and the French. The two former are united in their Government, and separated by creeks and bridges. The English and American settlements are well kept, clean, and well looked after. The French, which lies by the Chinese outside-settlement, was rather badly kept, and even a British "ricksha" was not permitted to cross the French line. A roadway lined by trees, like a boulevard, runs between the houses and the river, which is embanked, like the Thames in London. The Chinese city of Shanghai is walled and separated from the "foreign devils'" location, it is most truly Chinese, which means a great deal. Woosung is the port.

I was pondering upon my intended movements, when Eagan came amidships to where I was gazing at the crowded river, and asked me what I proposed to do.

"Suppose you'll go ashore and have a spree?" he said.

"Can't I stay where I am?" I asked. "I have not much money, and am ignorant of the place, though I hear there are boarding-houses for sailors."

"Hum—yes," he said doubtfully. "We're going into dock, and I think you'd better go to the hotel. My passengers are landing, and are going to the Japanese hotel in the American section, now. They won't mind you anyhow. The place is cheap and good, I hear. If you stay there to-night you may find the Consulate in the morning, and get a wire perhaps, or letters, or any news possible."

I thought Mr. Eagan wished me away, and I consented to his suggestion at once. He seemed relieved by my assent.

"See, now," he proceeded, "here's cash for you, never mind paying. We're bound to refit, and you'll have twice the fun ashore than you'd have with me in the 'muss.' You've never been up here? Laws! Then go ashore with my passengers. Never mind the want of baggage, it's aboard your ship," he said, winking, "but I'll lend you a change, and a few things till to-morrow."

Under the circumstances I considered that Eagan's plan was best, and besides he did not want me any more than the four passengers, and I did not press the matter further. The skipper gave me some dollars and a quantity of cash, and passed me amid the crowd of chattering coolies who scented passengers and a job. After a struggle, in which Eagan had upset several of the most unfortunate of the coolies, the valise he had filled for me was hoisted by the chosen one of the mob, and borne by him to the Japanese hotel in Honkiew, the "American" settlement, which, with the British and French settlements, are entirely separated from the Chinese city, though the rich Chinese prefer the foreign quarter.

The foreign concession is surrounded by streams and ditch from the rest, and is virtually an island isolated. The river bounds one side, and brooks the others; one crossed bridges and ditches, and finds change and decay! There is an Anglo-Chinese settlement, but all the foreign side is clean, well lighted by lamps and electricity, with fine houses, warehouses, and public buildings. Shanghai is no longer China in the settlements.

In the American settlement my friend Eagan, whom I suspected was an American bred, had indicated the hotel on the Broadway. To this I repaired, and was quickly furnished with a room which in itself was not lavishly supplied in this manner. However, it was clean, and proved comfortable, and I slept, rocked, in imagination, by the heaving sea.

I awoke late, and was engaged in various "extension motions" ere preparing to dress, when my calisthenics were suddenly brought to a conclusion by the sound of a pistol shot. Was this imagination? I hastily attired myself in pyjamas again, but before I had quite finished, another, and another shot rang out in the corridor!

I dashed out, but seeing no one, though inhaling the smoke of the discharges, I ran to the head of the stairs. Three or four others came on the scene immediately, and a number of persons came rushing up from below. I pushed on, and stared in horror at the sight. A dead and bleeding body lay before me!

It was that of Oh Sing, or Kim, the smaller of the two Coreans who had sailed in the Harada.

I started back. Then Lung had been revenged! I began to appreciate the danger I had escaped on board the schooner. Here was the victim, shot dead in the "Japanese" hotel! Truly I had had a most marvellous escape. Lung had evidently intended to assassinate his companion in the berth which I had unwittingly occupied. What had been the object of the murderer? These reflections hurried through my mind like lightning, and the spectators began to compare notes concerning the incident even while carrying the dead man back to his room. As we thus retraced our steps, we managed to put the facts together, and when the doctor arrived he asked me what I had witnessed. My testimony was brief but important, and the Consul's representative arrived during the interview.

The unfortunate Oh Sing had been shot by three bullets, so all the discharges had taken effect. He had been shot through the cheek—the left—and again through the stomach—wounds which tended to prove that the man must have been lying down when attacked, and that the assassin had entered the bedroom. The left cheek being perforated tended to the assumption that the poor victim had been lying on his right side, away from the door, when attacked. He must then have turned, half rising up, and received another bullet in front, and then he had fled. The third ball had penetrated below the shoulder, and had found its billet in a vital part, for the man had died at the end of the corridor, by the stairs down which the man Lung had escaped.

This was a most unfortunate occurrence for the hotel people, and I fancied I knew then why Eagan had been so anxious to get the passengers, including myself, ashore; and why he had kept the Coreans apart when on board. He knew something—and guessed the rest.

Having given my name to the Consul, and been advised to remain in Shanghai for a while, I had breakfast, for which I had little appetite, and sauntered out. My first visit was to the docks to acquaint Eagan with the news, but I ascertained that the Harada had sailed at daybreak, "leaving no address," so I was compelled to retrace my steps.

I was now in a quandary. If the Fêng Shui did not come up soon I might be arrested as an accomplice in the murder, and all day I strolled about within the settlements listening to the strong expressions of disgust for the deed. The murderer must be hanged—that was only justice. The feeling against the Japanese was in a measure increasing, and one knows how racial dislikes are fomented in the Far East. I began to look around me cautiously. I had been already in the witness-box, and some fanatic might think it proper to whet his knife upon my ribs. This opportunity I did not desire to afford him.

But for all my care I, of all people, was drawn into a dispute, and concerning an arrest—or perhaps I should say an attempted arrest. I was strolling up the road which turns aside from the Bund—a street in which European wares are displayed—when I perceived two rather peculiar Chinamen following a third Chinese, and evidently "shadowing" him. Perhaps I might not have remarked them had not the "shadowed" man halted beside me as I was looking at photographs displayed in a well-known shop. I turned sharply to look at the man. He struck me as different from the ordinary Chinaman, not a coolie, yet not a mandarin certainly. A "middle-class" I may say; a trader, perhaps, but surely not a native of South China.

To my astonishment he addressed me in excellent English.

"Can you permit me to accompany you, sir? Please be cautious."

I stared at the fellow; then thinking that trouble might arise, I made no reply. He spoke again. The men stood watching us.

"Do not turn away. I am in danger in these clothes. Can you assist me? I am a Japanese officer."

"A Jap!" I exclaimed. "Why this disguise, then? What are you doing here?"

"I have been travelling in China. The Chinese suspect me in consequence of the murder here. Can I accompany you a while?"

I paused a moment, and at length consented. We proceeded to the Consulate, and were seated upon the bench there, when my new acquaintance replied to my request for information by saying—

"I am a sailor—a Japanese junior officer. Those men intended to kill me. I am searching for news. They are arming against us."

"Yes," I replied; "I hear as much. How can I protect you then, supposing you are a Japanese officer? How can I tell that?"

"I can produce my authority, sir," he said gently but firmly.

"Will you disclose your identity to the Consul, then?"

"I would prefer not."

"How, then, can I protect you? I have no proof of your mission."

"If you permit me to remain with you until evening, I can then meet protection."

"Why not address some other Englishman—a merchant or shipper? There are many officers and sailors better than I."

"The merchant would not credit a 'Chinese.' The natives do not mix with the foreigners except in business-talk—'pidgin,' you know. If they betrayed me I might be killed. I intended to leave here sooner, but have found no vessel in which I can yet sail. The Japanese steamer will arrive to-night. Let me remain with you. You will be sorry if you do not, I daresay."

"You speak English very well," I said. "You have been in London?"

"Yes," he answered; "I was attached to the Japanese Embassy a while—at least, I was a student in London, and met with much kindness. My brother, who is in our army, was also in England at one time."

"Can you tell me the names of any people in England who knew you?"

"Oh, certainly," he said, smiling at me as if I had asked an awkward question. Then he mentioned several people well known, and at least one family with whom my people were acquainted, their residence, and friends. I was almost convinced.

"Very well," I said after a pause, "I will take you to the hotel; but you must talk bad English, and attend me to the various places I want to see."

"Can do," he replied promptly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, in surprise.

"Can do; makee talk chop-chop. Alle same Melican-man."

"Pelican? What do you mean? Are you sensible? What's Pelican? Food?"

"No," he replied, smiling broadly, "Melican-man is an American in the pidgin. Melican."

"Oh, I thought you said pelican first, not pigeon." He smiled.

"I was chattering coolie-pidgin. 'Can do' means 'can,' simply. I implied that I would attend you, that's all. Please be careful."

"Of you, or of myself?" I asked, smiling in return. "All right, let us go to the hotel. You can remain there a while, then we will take a stroll, and perhaps by the time we have returned we may find your ship in the stream. I am also expecting a vessel."

"Which vessel? British?"

"Yes, British built,—a steamer, Fêng Shui. Heard of it?"

"Not a steamer. Fêng Shui is Chinese—superstition. The men are leaving us, see! But they will return. Shall we move?"

We rose, and looked round us. I felt rather nervous. Suddenly my young Japanese cried—

"There she is! Kyodo Maya. My ship for Japan."

"A merchant steamer!" I exclaimed. "Not a warship."

"Yes, 'Union Steam.' I go home. You have saved my life. Let me wait until the boat comes ashore. I join my ship at Chemulpo."

I was quite puzzled. Was this man true or false? If false, what could he gain by selling me? He appeared honest, and certainly two men were watching us still. He had laid himself open to suspicion, at least.

"Come with me, sir," he said. "If you will come on board the steamer you will understand this. I assure you I am true, and thankful for your society."

"I am also awaiting my ship. Perhaps your vessel may not wait to put me ashore again, and"—

"I am an officer," he interrupted. "The captain has instructions for me."

"But not for me. See, the men are approaching again. A boat is being launched. Shall we go to the wharf now?"

We hastened down. The sun was setting, and the Japanese had certainly had an escape. Even then the bandits looked ugly and revengeful. The "officer" was full of thankfulness and gratitude to me.

"Remember," he said, "if ever we meet I am your debtor. My name is Tomi Taijiro. My relatives are in the navy and in the mercantile service. My elder brother is in the army. You will remember you have saved my life."

"I am pleased to think so," said I. "If so, I am truly glad. I hope we shall meet again. If so, once more, I shall claim your promise. I believe you."

He bowed deeply, lowly fashion, and I wondered for the moment. But his costume warranted the obeisance, and the boat came near. The two men approached us through the throng, and Tomi whispered—

"On guard! I dare not call assistance. Stand firm!"

Meantime the steamer's boat was approaching, impelled by Japanese. The Chinamen came closer. We shifted away amongst the people, and I hailed the boat. The officer made a sign to the coxswain. The men pulled harder.

At that moment the assassins rushed in. In another moment we might have been struck, or even killed. But we turned suddenly, and unexpectedly separated. Each seized a "coolie"—so they appeared to be—and with real luck avoided a stab. In a second both men were swimming for life amid the shouts of the spectators, amid alarms and cries from natives.

"What is it?" asked some anxiously. "What has happened? Were they thrown in?"

"An accident," I replied, nodding at Tomi as I turned away. The boat came up, and he was rowed away, to the surprise of the onlookers on the wharf, who had not seen the struggle.

Then I returned, and remained indoors next day till afternoon.

As no one molested me, I became more easy in my mind as the day wore on, and I began to look about me with more interest. From the fine parade along the river,—the Bund it is called,—with its turfed slopes, Shanghai is alive, right away to the men-of-war, local steamers, and launches. The streets are full, even crowded, with passers-by and rickshas—the original "Pull-man car of Shanghai." On the Bund the business is performed, and its occupants are indeed busy. It is a wonderful sight for the stranger from Europe, who expects things to be Chinese-like. In the Maloo, or chief road, cabs, broughams, barrows, and horsemen jostle each other daily.

This is not China! It is London, Paris, New York. Fine houses and broad pavements; banks, hotels, imposing buildings, a cathedral. Great ships and little boats, sampans. Vessels loading and unloading, noise and bustle, cranes and steam-whistles. Babel of language, and the never-ceasing chatter of the Chinaman and his friends. Cash! cash! cash! Merchants, coolies, rickshas, runners, porters; Chinese dodging the carts, and avoiding the "foreign devils"; yet, at times, driving in British landaus driven by a Chinese. Such a confusion, such fun and variety; yet all over it, for me, hung the shadow of the crime of the Corean which led to War!

I crossed the bridge, and visited the Chinese-European sections,—not the city of Shanghai,—and the French Quai des Fossés, and the familiar notice of the continent of Europe—"defendu!" The Chinese possess in their section no landaus, they hire wheelbarrows like Mr. Pickwick's. Here one can examine the shops and the natives at leisure. You may see the deformed feet, and the really unpleasant supplies of food which the Chinaman consumes, and the frequent coffin which he will occupy later when he dies of "carrion dishes."

And all this primitive, conservative, old-world practice in the midst of modern civilisation—electric light, steam, and even comparatively broad streets, high houses, and wide roads,—but not China.

CHAPTER VII

THE FÊNG SHUI CHANGES HER NAME FOR LUCK
—THE TRANSPORT—THE JAPANESE
MAN-OF-WAR—SURRENDER OF THE KOWSHING

We were compelled by circumstances to remain a few days at Shanghai, and almost every hour begat new rumours. Sunday itself was no day of rest for the Spirit of Conjecture; she was busier than ever, and whether on the Bund or on the concession road, where everybody met all the world and his wife and family, the speculations were numerous and important. Only the ugly Amas (Chinese "ayahs"), and their usually pale European charges, were exempted from the general discussions. The Chinese, too, were quite quiet, but also perfectly alive to the situation. Those of the settlers who played lawn tennis or other games, or cycled,—as most of the "foreign" men did,—paused to discuss late events on the grounds, or on the Marine Parade. The Chinese drove, or perhaps walked, but did not "go in for games" as the "foreign devils" do; it is better, they think, to pay people to do all this to amuse them.

The steamer quitted Shanghai, and made her way into the Yellow Sea, which is beautifully blue, and derives its name from the Ho, or Yellow River. Near the land it is more muddy, but steaming at sea through the ocean depths the water is blue as an Italian sky. We made our way up to Taku, or Tien Tsin, the well-known port of Northern China. We passed close by Yung Cheng, and rounded Wei-hai-Wei, passed the islands, and steamed through the Gulf of Pechili to Taku at the mouth of the Pei-Ho.

I was very much interested in this place because a cousin of mine had been engaged in the expedition against the Taku forts in 1859, and I recollect my admiration when my cousin returned with some beautiful Chinese robes, and other articles, which he had purchased, or found, in Pekin after the capture of the capital. These spoils still exist in the possession of my cousin's family.

While embarking Chinese soldiers for Corea, we heard many reports of the Chinese fleet, the attack of Japanese in Seul, and such intelligence, which confirmed my captain in his impression that war had already virtually been declared, and that the struggle would be fought out by sea and land, between China and Japan, in the Yellow Sea and in Corea. So he made haste to embark the soldiers,—some twelve hundred men with twelve guns,—and, when they were settled on board, the steamer followed the other transports, of which nine had already sailed. There were two other English steamers employed in the service, but we didn't think that any fuss would ensue, because we trusted to the "red ensign."

"Well, Julius," said the mate to me, when we had crossed the bar at Taku, "here we are on service."

"Yes," I replied; "but it is only transport service. There will be no fighting. We can't fight, and no one will harm a British ship."

"Let us wait till we reach Corea. When we reach Asan, and land the troops, we shall be able to sing 'Rule Britannia.'"

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking at the mate intently in the dim light. "There is no danger, is there?"

"I suppose you know that the Japanese warships are out in this sea, and they expect to meet some Chinese vessels?"

"But we're not Chinese; we're English."

"Just so," said the mate. "Hadn't you better look after the troops, and get them settled. If any storm gets up, or anything happens, they will be like children, and we can't hold them."

"Who's the major? He's not a Chinese, anyway!"

"No, he's a German, I believe—a Von something—a good fellow, I think. You see the Herrs are getting the thin wedge in in China, quietly. Look at their travellers already—commercial, I mean—they are turning us out! This major is teaching the army to shoot. They are very young in the modern sense. Just see that the Johnnies are quiet."

They were peaceful and resigned. So far as I could ascertain, none of them, except the generals, had any notion of what they were sent to do—except to fight somebody; but they were apparently quite passive in the matter, and gave themselves no concern either way. They were machines then; but later they roused themselves unpleasantly.

It was early in the morning of the 25th July 1894; I had been on deck, but came up again about eight a.m. because I was informed that the islands were in sight off Corea. I knew the mate was on watch, and he might want me. So I came up to him.

"I say, Julius," he said, "just call the captain! There's an ironclad ahead, and I can't quite make her out. She carries the Rising Sun, but there is a white flag over the Japs' colours. Look alive!"

Just glancing ahead I thought I could see the vessel referred to, but of course I called the captain at once.

"Where are we?" he asked, rising quickly.

"Oft Shopieul Island, I heard, sir; in the Corean Archipelago," I added.

"Thanks," he replied; but whether he was sarcastic I could not divine. I at once hurried on deck again, and searched the sea.

The captain then came upon the bridge, and I heard him chatting with the mate.

"I suppose she's a Jap," said the latter; "but I can't grasp the white flag."

"Dip the ensign, anyway; it's the proper thing. Hoist the red rag," he said.

The signal-hand quickly bent the ensign of the merchant navy; it rose, fluttered out, dipped, and rose again to the peak, blowing out plainly.

"I say, he takes no notice," cried the captain. "She keeps her course to the north-east. Now what in thunder does that mean? It's an insult, bedad!"

"She's steaming at a fine rate, sir. Looks as if she was in a hurry."

"Running away, bedad!" laughed the skipper, turning his glass upon the large ship. "Ah! a man-of-war and a Chinaman,—a trick, I believe."

"Really so?" exclaimed the mate. "If so, there's been a 'tit up' yonder, and Jap has licked Johnny, but I heard no guns. Excuse me, sir, what's that yonder?—a schooner, I say."

I heard him, and got a glass from the signalman near whom I was standing. But the schooner was not the Harada, so far as I could see. She had no foretop-sail-yard. She was steering south-east, a long distance away, and looked an old style of vessel getting away.

By this time the news had spread through the steamer, and penetrated to the Chinese intelligence forward. The soldiers came up in numbers, and the officers, accompanied by the European passenger, began to chatter and make all kinds of inquiries and observations. The Japanese flag had evidently raised the "dander" of the Chinese. They understood that the man-of-war was a Chinaman, but could not understand the white feather of retreat or escape.

By degrees the excitement increased, and the crew of the steamer became very much interested. The native fireman even came up to look around, and though unable to see anything, descended again, much impressed with the result.

Notwithstanding our native English assurance, one or two of us—I need not make invidious comparisons—began to suspect danger. The captain, mate, and the German military passenger were perfectly calm and unembarrassed, and the Kowshing proceeded at a good pace to her destination. The chief men were on the bridge. I was within hail, and at times stood upon the ladder to see better, and to hear better, what the prospects might be of seeing war.

We still kept our course, and had approached within a mile or so of the island from the north-west, when three men-of-war came out from the land in our direction.

"What do you make them?" asked the captain.

"Japs," was the reply. "We are getting into a hornet's nest, I think."

"The British ensign will surely protect the steamer?" asked the foreign passenger. "There is no necessity to alter the course."

"Precious little use, anyhow," remarked the mate. "We must keep going, though I fancy the ships will not appreciate the Chinese troops on board. We may be compelled to return."

When the Chinese commanders perceived the Japanese vessels approaching they became rather excited—the soldiers also crowded forward, and there was no appearance of fear amongst them. There was some anxiety, certainly, on board, and when the leading ship passed on and fired two blank cartridges, there was a feeling of uneasiness evident.

"Stop her," came the order when the two guns and the signal had been interpreted. My heart beat loudly at the sound of the unshotted guns. They meant heave to—anchor.

The steamer hove to and waited, tossing gently upon the sea.

"What are they up to?" was the question expressed or implied. "Tell them we understand, Julius." "Ting, ting" went the telegraph to the engine.

The man at the signal halyards and myself sent the bunting aloft. The flags said, "We have stopped"; and again we waited, lopping and rolling, as the anchor plashed away into the blue sea at eleven fathoms.

"I say, are we prisoners?" I asked the mate when he came back amidships, having seen the anchor let go.

"Looks like it," he replied crossly. "Must wait the Japs' convenience, I see."

The Chinese generals then began to plague the captain with demands which the German officer translated and repeated. There was great confusion.

"That ship's the Naniwa," I heard someone say.

"She's returning. All right, we may proceed, I presume."

"She is only going to confer with her mates," said the engineer, who had come up. "But the captain is asking something."

I made out the signal as directed, and it spelt "May we proceed?" The engineers anxiously awaited the reply, and the crew expected the order to weigh.

But to my dismay, and certainly to the disappointment of all on board our steamer, the reply came from the Japanese, sharply—

"Heave to, or take the consequences."

We looked at each other, the Chinese commanders were furious. The men made ready their rifles, and got up ammunition. Things began to look black all round.

The Chinese commanders demanded to know what had been said, and when they had been informed a discussion arose. So greatly were they exercised that the foreign officer suggested that the soldiers might be sent below, because he feared a disturbance if any Japanese came on board; and also, I think, he fancied we all were in danger if the troops became mutinous.

This advice, backed up by the officers of the steamer, was acted upon, and when I had assisted in carrying out the order with the quarter-master, Louis, we came on deck again, and we saw the same ship again approaching us on the port side—on the beam; she took up a position so that she could enfilade us with her starboard battery, and we could see that she had prepared to fire her broadside.

I really could not believe we were in danger. It seemed so absurd to think that our Japanese friends could threaten a British ship sailing under the ensign, and employed in transport duties. I said as much to the mate. He shook his head.

"You see, we are in the enemy's pay, and the Japs must have the first blow if they mean war. Still, I suppose they will take us off the steamer, and make the Johnnies prisoners. Here comes a boat. We shall soon find out all about this business."

"The Japanese are armed," I said.

"Certainly they are. They are on the warpath. I hope we shan't lose our scalps!"

I laughed at the idea, and the mate walked forward to keep watch and order ahead, without echoing my misplaced merriment. He seemed to take things seriously. How absurd!

"Gangway!" came the order, and the captain went down to receive the two Japanese officers who intended to come on board. They were received with politeness, the lieutenant and his sub demanded to see the steamer's papers. For this purpose they went into the chart-room.

Meantime I was staring at the boat and the Japanese sailors, neat and tidy fellows, and at the youthful officer keeping guard. My heart leaped. I recognised him as the youth whom I had assisted that evening in Shanghai when the feeling against the Japanese ran high. He recognised me at the same moment, and smiled. I advanced and saluted him; he replied in kind, and we exchanged greetings. It was Tomi!

"May I inquire what your captain intends to do with us?" I asked after a while.

"I cannot say," he replied. "My officer and your captain will doubtless arrange matters."

"We are not at war," I persisted; "we cannot be harmed." I glanced at the English ensign as I was speaking.

His eyes followed mine, and he touched his cap politely, then looked at me. "Will you come on board?" he asked. "I will assist you now, if you like."

"Why? What for?" After a pause, I replied, "No, thank you. I am on duty, of course." But I thought it kind of the middy. He knew the danger.

"Stand back, please; here is my officer," he said quickly. "Be silent."

He at once became distant as the land, and shut up like an oyster. He perhaps was afraid to be seen speaking to me.

The captain and the Japanese lieutenant then appeared. The latter said—

"I will convey your message, sir, I understand that this vessel is under the charter of the Chinese Government to convey troops from Taku to Asan. Is that correct?"

"Perfectly," replied the captain.

The lieutenant continued, "There are eleven hundred soldiers on board, with arms and ammunition and supplies. Are you prepared to follow the Naniwa, sir?"

"I am willing to do so," replied the captain. "Will you favour me with your esteemed name?"

"Lieutenant Hitomi," was the reply. "Yours, sir, is Goldheugh?"

The captain bowed; the lieutenant bowed in response, and was then most politely escorted to the gangway, whence he was rowed to the Naniwa, as he had named her. She was painted white, and had one funnel.

She was, and is, a fine ship, and I scrutinised her size and guns and equipage of modern appearance. She was armed with two 26 c.m. twenty-eight-ton Armstrong guns; six 15 c.m. five-ton Krupps; besides machine guns—a heavy armament for a ship of something under four thousand tons, I estimated. She carried three hundred and fifty-seven men, and could steam eighteen knots. These details I learned later; at the moment of the lieutenant's departure I was fascinated by her guns. It seemed so unreal to me. War was so unexpected by us, though I gathered that it had been brewing for months. Still it is always disturbing and alarming, even if one is not face to face with it, as I was.

When the Japanese officer had returned to the ship, the Chinese generals came up with the German officer to make inquiries. The major was not present when the explanation had been made, but he understood that our captain had mentioned him as a "passenger."

"I did so, sir; I told the lieutenant. Did you not hear what I said?"

"No," replied the passenger. "If you had called me, as we agreed "—

"Bless my soul, what time had I to call anyone?" exclaimed the captain. "The man didn't wait for any explanations. He asked me questions, and when I had replied he was off like a shot; and maybe he'll treat us to one presently, though I suppose it isn't his fault. What are the generals going to do?"

"They declare they will resist. You should have stipulated to return to Taku, they say; and they will rather die than be taken prisoners."

"Bedad, they may have to do it!" muttered the captain. "Julius, hoist the signal for a boat. The Chinese fellows are breaking loose, and we'll be murdered in a minute. We're between the devils and the deep sea now, and may go anywhere. Call assistance!"

The German gentleman in vain attempted to influence the Chinese. He could speak their language, but they did not listen. The officers declared they would fight. They had eleven hundred against the three hundred and fifty Japanese, and they could prevail! In vain the major declared that the ship's guns must destroy the steamer if she fired at us. The generals were obdurate. They directed their men to guard the bridge and gangway, to kill any European who resisted, and to load all rifles.

"We have your protection," they said to the captain. "If you withdraw it on the part of England, we shall shoot you. You have made a contract with us, you must complete it. Take us to Asan, or back to Taku, and forfeit the charter."

This was translated to the captain, and he swore. He signalled for the Japanese to send a boat, and the reply came—"Send at once." We then waited in the greatest excitement, fearing for all on board who were not Chinese, because the soldiers threatened, and made the most horrible signs to us all the while suggesting death and torture.

It is almost incredible, but it is true—no romance is here.