Kit
i
iSusytfiHftBHnlJiFS
n
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
AT LOS ANGELES
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
ill, ,\^ 1
A WANDERER'S
TRAIL
BEING A FAITHFUL RECORD OF TRAVEL
IN MANY LANDS
BY
A. LOTON RIDGER, F.R.G.S.
ILLUHTKATEI) WITH HIXTY BEPKODUCTIOXH
FROM J'HOTOGRAPHB
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1914
- r. HIVF,K>IDF. »RF.S- ^I^^TEB
ISBURGH, SCOTLAND
IN TOKEN OF GRATITUDE
TO
S. C. HESTER
AND
J. M. RYRIE
,U704:./
/ have lo thank Mr John Buchan /or much kind ejicourage-
menl, and particularlif Mr S. L. Bensusax jor his sound
direction and assistance in going through these pages.
A. L. R.
Vanbruch Park,
bl.acjcheath, loxdon.
CONTENTS
PARTI
INTRODUCTION ....
CHAPTER
I. MY FIRST VOYAGE BOUND FOR 'FRISCO .
II. FIRST EXPERIENCES IN CALIFORNIA
III. EXPERIENCES IN OREGON AND WASHINGTON
IV. TRA\^L IN THE WESTERN STATES .
V. SOME EXPERIENCES IN CANADA
VI. IN ALASKA ....
VII. DOWN THE YUKON TO KLONDYKE
VIII. HARD TIMES ON THE PACIFIC COAST
IX. A STORMY VOYAGE ACROSS THE PACIFIC .
X. IMPRESSIONS OF JAPAN AND THE JAPANT^SE
XI. AN IMPRESSION OF JAPANESE SPORTS
XII. SOME EXPERIENCES IN KOREA
XIII, IMPRESSIONS OF THE JAPANESE REGIME IN KOREA
XIV. FROM KOREA THROUGH MANCHURIA
XV. IMPRESSIONS OF DAIREN AND PORT ARTHUR
XVI. DOWN THE CHINESE COAST
XVII. FROM THE STRAITS TO EAST AMERICA VIA SUEZ
XVIII. EAST AMERICA AND RETURN TO ENGLAND .
17
19
29
39
51
72
82
91
104
114
132
146
152
159
168
179
183
190
199
CONTENTS
PART II
CHAPTER PAGE
I. BOUND FOR THE TRANSVAAL . . .205
II. LIFE IN JOHANNESBURG .... 209
III. MINES AND MINING ON THE RAND . . 220
IV. LIFE UNDERGROUND .... 227
V. PREPARATIONS FOR OUR TREK TO OVAMBOLAND . 237
VI. TREKKING THE KALAHARI DESERT . . 250
VII. ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE . . 264
VIII TREKKING THROUGH NGAMILAND TO THE LAKE . 280
IX. ALONG THE OKAVANGO AND RETURN TO THE LAKE . 292
X. TROUBLES ON MY RETURN TREK . . .307
XI. ON HORSEBACK THROUGH THE DESERT . . 320
XII. IS THE EAST CALLING OR THE WEST DRIVING ? . 330
XIII. UP THE EAST AFRICAN COAST TO ZANZIBAR . 340
XIV. FROM ZANZIBAR TO BOMBAY . . . 349
XV. DOWN THE MALABAR COAST
XVI. FROM CEYLON TO BURMA .
XVII. SCENES IN BURMA
XVIII. FROM MOULMEIN TO CALCUTTA
XIX. IN THE FAR EAST AGAIN .
354
365
373
384
390
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Portrait of the Author .
{Photograph by H. IV. Busbridge, Blackheath)
San Francisco : Entrance to the Golden Gate
San Francisco's Suburbs
Lumbering
In the Lumber Yards .
Portland, Oregon
Mount Rainier .
Mount Hood
Alaska: a Country of Impressive Wildness and
Grandeur
Alaska: a ''Shack" in the Mountains
Four Coaches drawn by three Engines
On the Yukon ....
Skagway, Alaska
Victoria, B.C. ....
Vancouver, B.C.
The Palms of Honolulu
A Group of Students in the Mitsui Bank, I'okio
Japan en fete
The Inland Sea .
An Everyday Scene in Japan .
Japanese Women
City Gate of Seoul, Korea
Life in Seoul, Korea
II
Frontispiece
if ace page
32
32
50
50
58
68
(is
Solemn
80
88
92
92
100
108
108
124
138
144
144
148
148
l64
164
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
To fact paje
Manchuria : the little red-earth Track, the Railway winding
its Tortuous Course ...
Manchuria : a " Road " in Kwangchangtsu
Mukden : the Tombs of the Manchu Emperors
Harbin ......
Port Arthur : a Japanese Memorial
A Fort at Port Arthur after Bombardment
The Horrors of War ....
Hong-Kong: the Aftermath of a Typhoon
A Malay V^illage ....
Singapore .....
Johannesburg en fete at the Time of the Duke of Connaught
Visit .....
A large Mine Property
The Battery, showing the Mercury-coated Plates
The Surroundings of a Rand Mine
\'ie\v of Cyanide Works
A shaky •' Hanging " .
Trucking the Ore to the Shaft
Underground Surveying
Machine-stoping ....
Palapye, our Starting Point
Watering Cattle in the Kalahari Desert
i'rekking tlie Kalahari ....
The Eternal Sand ....
A Native "Dug-out" ....
Crossing the Botletle River
A Group of Refugee D.unaras in Ngamiland .
Makuba Women ....
12
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Starting out on Trek from I'sau
Big Game in Ngamiland
Lake Ngami : forcing a Way through the Swamps
Lake Ngami : the Blacksmith's Quarters
Refugees from German S.W. Africa
Damara Belles .
About to cross .
Nearly through .
Home, Sweet Home
Zanzibar's Narrow Streets
Old Portuguese Fort in Zanzib
Bombay .
An Indian Bungalow
On India's Shores
Coir Fibre from the Cocoanut
The Malabar Coast: luxuriant Tropical Foliag
In Eastern Waters
Peaceful Burma .
Hong-Kong : the Peak .
A Street in Hong-Kong
Tapping Rubber-Trees
Tropical Vegetation of Malaya
Z'o face prir/P.
290
2<)6
304
306
306
308
308
324
346
346
352
352
356
358
362
364
376
392
392
596
396
13
PART I
" Much have I seen and known ; cities of men
And manners, climates, . . .
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move."
Tennyson.
INTRODUCTION
Before bringing my reader to the date of my first departure
from England a few words of personal record may not be
out of place.
I began my business career at the age of seventeen in a
London insurance company. After some months in this office I
had the opportunity to join the well-known Japanese house of
Mitsui, in whose service I remained nearly three years. I left
that firm to join the house of Arbuthnot Ewart & Co., with
which I was connected till my departure from London.
Besides gaining a fair practical insight into general commerce
in the service of these two important houses, I gained, further,
that which was of even greater value — the friendship and
interest of some influential business men, whose help and
practical kindness to me during my years of travel made
possible a task that had been otherwise hopeless.
From my schooldays the desire to wander into the Great
Unknown was always very strong in me. I made many efforts
to obtain some foreign appointment, but, chiefly owing to
my youth and a slight delicacy of constitution, the efforts
were unsuccessful. One day, however, whilst in conversa-
tion with a merchant I received rather a rude shock. I was
enlarging on my eagerness to " go abroad " (that vague phrase
so often in the mouths of young Englishmen at home) when I
was disconcei'ted by the blunt retort: ''Then why the devil
don't you go ? " With a rather injured air I began to explain
my many fruitless efforts to this end. I was cut short, however,
by my listcnci- saying : " My boy, if you want to go abroad and
sec the world — go I — ship in the iii'st tramp you can hnd, bound
any^vhere. That is the only way to see the world ! " These
words made a deep impression on me ; so much so that within
r, 17
INTRODUCTION
a month my kit was packed, my farewells said, and I found
myself travelling down to Barry docks to join a tramp steamer
bound round the Horn for San Francisco.
Through the kindness of a shipbroker I had been able to
arrange a passage on board, paying only the small sum of three
shillings per day for mess-money.
I had ten pounds in my pocket and a few letters of intro-
duction, most of them not worth the paper on which they were
written, I had then, hovv'ever, that which was of far greater
value. I possessed untiring Energy, unlimited Hope and the
unbounded Enthusiasm of youth. So I was rich in capital, richer
than I knew : for nothing is of real value till it is lost !
1 8
CHAPTER I
MY FIRST VOYAGE BOUND FOR 'FRISCO
THE date was the 13th of February 1907. On a bleak,
i-aw night t>-pical of February I reached Barry docks,
which looked as desolate and dirty as they possibly
could. Rain was steadily falling, and it might have been
doing so for weeks on end, so sloppy and muddy were the
roads and wharves.
On leaving the station I inquired as to the whereabouts of
the steamer Strathyre, the ship that was to be my home for
many weeks to come. I found her at last moored to one of the
wharves under the coal-tips, in process of being coaled for her
long voyage. Boarding her by means of the rope-ladder hanging
over her side I clambered on deck. Everything there was coated
with coal dust — men included ! Welsh coal may certainly be
the best burning coal in the world, but it is also the dirtiest ;
its dust seems to have a knack of finding every nook and corner
of a vessel, and of lodging there.
The Strathyre was a new steamer — the usual type of a modern
caj-go boat with as nuieh iron about her and as little wood as
possible. Her registered tonnage was nearly three thousand
and her carrying capacity some six thousand.
However, that night I obtained but a glimpse of her in her
coat of coal dust. Inquiring for the captain, 1 was told to go
down to the saloon, where I found him sitting busily writing.
In response to my question as to whether he were the captain
he replied : '* Yes, I'm the master." The term then struck me
as rather strange. Having informed him who I was, I asked,
seeing him so busy, if I could not give him a helping hand. He
gratefully accepted my offer and told me he was nearly dying
19
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
for want of sleep, having been up on the bridge for the best
part of three nights, while bringing the ship over from the
Continent, as fog was with them all the way.
As the writing to be done was all connected with shipping
matters with which I was fairly familiar, I was able to relieve
him of a great deal of work ; in fact, by one o'clock he was fast
asleep in his chair, whilst I was finishing the last letter. He was
very grateful for my timely help, as he termed it, and I was only
too glad to make myself useful. The captain and I became very
friendly during the voyage and I often look back with pleasure
to the many enjoyable days I spent in his company.
He was about as unlike the ship's captain my fertile imagina-
tion pictured as he could possibly be. My idea of a sea captain,
fomided on the stirring yarns of youth, was a bull-necked,
ferocious-looking man, who could not speak without oaths ;
whilst Captain G — ■ — of the Sirathyre was a quiet, i-efincd
Scotsman, who would not have appeared out of place in a
pulpit.
I found I was splendidly berthed- — the captain's spare cabin
being placed at my disposal. Down to that time I was not sure
whether I might have been ordered to sleep in the fo'c'sle or in
a ventilator. I was prepared for an}i;hing.
The following morning, the ship not being due to sail till the
afternoon, I took a stroll round the town of Barry and its out-
skirts. In the sunshine the town appeared by no means so dismal
as it had seemed to me the night bcfoi'e, whilst the country
round after tJie recent rain looked quite pretty. It was, besides,
my last day in England, so I was not inclined to be critical.
Even the grimy docks and wharves appeared when we were
slowly steaming away from them jnore pleasing than they
looked on the preceding night.
At four o'clock the pilot came on board; shortly after-
wards our lines were cast off, and with the aid of a tug v/e
steamed slowly through the lock gates into the liristol Channel.
It always is a sad sight to sec an old tramp starting out on a
long voyage with no last farewells, no waving handkerchiefb,
20
!\IY FIRST VOYAGE- BOUND FOR 'FRISCO
no interested eyes to follow her slowly steaming away in the
distance. Nobody seems to care ! Her departure is unnoticed !
Only the old dock-hand curses her for going out so slowly.
It was blowing fairly hard when we got into the Channel
and a choppy head sea was running. Though I felt somewhat
squeamish that evening, and on and off during the next day
or so, I was fortunate in gaining my sea legs without having to
pay the usual tribute to Father Neptune, despite the prophecies
of loving relatives. I learnt that night, however, the wisdom of
shutting my port-holes firmly, for, on the steamer suddenly
shipping a big sea in the Channel, I found myself and my cabin
nearly swamped, one of the ports not having been securely
shut.
By noon of the next day we were well in the Atlantic, with
the cliffs of England — at Land's End — fading away in the
distance.
I was surprised to find that all the crew and firemen were
Chinese. This I have found to be the case with nearly every
freighter in which I have since sailed. It seems a pity !
The officers, however, were all Britishers, the engineers all
being Scotsmen from Glasgow. Our cargo was chiefly building
material for San Francisco, Portland cement forming the bulk
of it. We had further a good supply of wines (which the carpenter
and I on more than one occasion sampled) and other luxuries
from the Continent.
There were two messes on board --the deck-officers' mess and
that of the engineers. My seat was with the former.
The food was plain but wholesome, tinned stuffs and salt
poik appearing frequently on the menu owing to tlie length of
the voyage. My appetite then was, howevei', equal to anything ;
and I am quite sure that the owners would not have cared for
me as a life-passenger on the three-shillings-a-day basis.
The first few days at sea I spent exploring all the nooks and
crannies of my floating home — everywhere from the chain
locker to the shaft tunnel. To-day I can vividly recall the keen
and absorbing interest I took in all the details of the ship,
21
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
and in the daily routine of work on board. I spent hours on the
bridge, especially if it were blowing hard, feeling the driving
wind and rain as refreshing as nectar. The changing of the
watches, the ringing of the bells, the taking of the log, the
hauling up of the lights— in short, everything that is part and
parcel of the regular life on board of a deep-sea tramp — was a
source of absorbing interest to me. At the outset of the voyage
the captain and I had struck a bargain. He was very anxious to
learn French ; so I undertook to teach him that language as well
as my knowledge would permit. He, on the other hand, promised
to teach me navigation and as much astronomy as he knew.
Hence our evenings were always well occupied.
Running south and west, skirting the Bay of Biscay, we soon
came into warmer latitudes, where the weather became finer
and the seas calmer. Seven days after leaving England we
sighted Madeira, and on the morning of the 28th of February
we anchored off St Vincent Island, the chief island of the Cape
Verde group.
Shortly after medical inspection the coaling of the shi]) began.
All the coal obtained at this island is Welsh coal, imported by
colliers and stocked on the island. Iron barges, towed out,
brought it to the ship lying in tlie bay, l)eing transfen-ed into the
steamei'"s bunkers by means of baskets. Steamers can be coaled
here at the ]-ate of some twelve hundred tons per day.
I went ashore after breakfast with the captain, but was not
very greatly impressed by the appearance of the first foreign
soil on which I put my loot. What cliicfly seem to have remained
impressed on my mcmoi'y ai-e the gaudily painted buildings of
a glaring green, and tlie pompous appearance of the Portuguese
sentinels wlio guarded the official buildings. A swarm of beggars
greeted our arrival on shore, one and all offering their services
as guides. Tlie inhabitants seemed to be a mixed race of
Portuguese and negroes.
Having visited the ship's agents, where I had the opportunity
of sampling some real Madeii-a wine and bananas, we strolled
round the to\vn to see all that there was to be seen, which was
22
MY FIRST VOYAGE— BOUND FOR 'FRISCO
very little. The island for the most part appeared barren and
sandy, thouf^h in places I noticed tropical fruits c^rowing in
abundance. Like the others of the group, the island is of volcanic
oi-igin and is both mountainous and rocky. The group is owned
by the Portuguese, who discovered and occupied it as early
as the middle of the fifteenth century. Apart from the im-
portance of St Vincent Isle as a convenient coaling port for
steamers southward bound, the Cape Verde Islands are but of
small value.
Coaling was finished late in the afternoon, and shortly after
sundown we weighed anchor and steamed away. It was full moon
on the night of our departure ; and I can recall how very
picturesque the islands looked in the moonlight. As we slowly
steamed out we passed a large jagged rock w^hich stood out like
some giant sentinel guarding the entrance of the island. Look-
ing back, one saw the twinkling lights of the little town, almost
paled by the moon's rays, die out one by one, till only the high
peaks of the islands remained above the horizon.
The weather, as we steamed south-west, continued delightful,
hot and sunny. When crossing the line we got into the south-east
trade winds, having lost those from the north-east a day or two
after leaving the islands. The chief officer had by now enlisted
me as one of his painters, or sailors (there is mighty little differ-
ence to-day), and I usually spent my mornings in painting
stanchions and making myself generally useful. It kept me
busy and prevented time from hanging heavily on my hands.
The nights, however, in these southern tropics were, if I may say
so, the best part of the day. Sunny days, ended by lovely sunsets,
were followed by perfect starry nights. Nothing but the
rhythmical sound of the thi'obbing engines, as the ship made
her way througli the phosphorescent seas, broke the peaceful
calm of these tropical nights. Now and then a squall would strike
the ship with midsummer fury ; torrential rains would descend
f I'om the black canopy above ; vivid flashes of lightning would
for a moment turn night into day, but within the hour all would
be peaceful again with the passing of Nature's angry mood.
23
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
It was generally late before I turned in, for I spent hours
walking to and fro the deck, dreaming such dreams, building
such castles in the air as only a young man of twenty-one can
when he has all the world before him.
A favourite nook of mine in the cool of the afternoon was the
ship's bows, where I waited for the sun to set. I would follow
the graceful flight of the flying-fish, Avatch the gambols of a
school of porpoises diving to and fro under the ship, and gaze
fascinated into the smooth depths of the fathomless wateivs
through which the steamer sped. My first impression of
the peaceful calm of those days and nights in tropical seas is
indelibly imprinted on my mind, and stands out to-day perhaps
more prominently than anything else in that first voyage of
mine.
Leaving the tropics, still steering south-west, we felt the
change in the temperature and the weather became less settled
and colder. We then met some rough days with heavy winds and
seas from the south. Our progress became slower, our usual run
of some two hundred and twenty miles dropping to under two
hundred, and big seas every now and then swept the for-ward
part of the ship. We passed many whales in these southerly
waters, though never near enougli to allow me to obtain a good
view of them.
On the 23rd of March, thirty-eight days out, we sighted Cape
Virgin, a low white cliff ; and shortly afterwards we made
Dungeness, where we reported ourselves at Lloyd's station. We
anchored at midday in Possession Bay to wait for the turn of
the tide. As we lay at anchor in the entrance of the Straits
of Magellan we had a full view of the inliospitable shores of
Patagonia and of the island of Tierra-del-Fucgo.
Special caution is necessary in approaching and navigating
the^c htraits, as the cui'rents and tides off the coast are very
strong ; the force of tiie current through the Narrows is some-
times as much as five to seven knots an hour. Cape Vii'gin is
])ut a very low cliff, and, the distance off shore not being easy
to estimate, negotiation of the eastward entrance to the straits
^4
MY FIRST VOYAGE -BOUXD FOR 'FRISCO
needs extreme care. Sailing ships, of course, never attempt tlie
passage, but sail romid the Horn,
On the turn of the tide we weighed anchor and entered the
straits with a strong south-west wind against us. For about one
hundred miles from Cape Vii-gin the land was low, grassy and
treeless. The low-lying ground then gave place to rugged country
of rough-outlined hills and towering mountains, which, dark
and gloomy, with blue glaciers interlodged, reared their snow-
capped peaks over the waters at their foot. Their solemn
grandeur was very impressive. The still silence that reigned
added to the desolation of the scene.
Darwin, in his work on the voyage of the Beagle, describes the
scenery of the Straits of Magellan in picturesque words : " It
would be difficult to imagine a scene where Man seemed to have
fewer claims or less authority. The inanimate works of Nature
— rock, ice, snow, wind and water, all warring with each other,
yet, combined against Man, reigned in absolute sovereignty ! "
The town of Punta Arenas, born since Darwin's time, is,
however, the symbol of Man's assertion of his rights ; though
the glittering blaze of lights seemed but to intensify the
loneliness and wildness of the surrounding country.
The passage through the straits, a distance of three hundred
and ten miles, took us thirty-seven hours ; we passed several
homeward-bound steamei-s, to which we dipped our ensign.
Fortunately the weather kept clear, for dirty weather in these
straits greatly increases the risk of navigation, as there are but
few anchorages which afford any shelter to the ship that is
" standing by " till the weather mends.
As it was getting dark we passed Cape Pillar, a bold cliff with
high mountains to the southward, and entered the Pacific,
meeting a high head sea which repeatedly broke over the ship.
Steaming north, we soon sighted the coast of Chile ; and on the
29t]i we anchoi'cd in Coronel Bay, off the town of that name.
The seaport of Coronel owes what prosperity it possesses to
the somewhat inferior coal that is mined in its vicinity, chiefly
at Lota. To the sightseer Coronel produced nothing of much
25
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
interest. I visited the market and watched the inhabitants at
tlieir marketing, whicli chiefly consisted in gossiping, idling
and smoking.
The Chilians, during our short stay, fully lived up to their
national reputation for procrastination : Manmia (to-morrow)
is their watchword ! It was Easter-time when we arrived, and
the people, being Roman Catholics, were celebrating that season
in a most festive way, to the total disregard of business obliga-
tions and ordinary work. To the many requests and protests of
the steamers lying in the bay and waiting for coal Mariana was
the only response. As we were the latest arrival we soon saw it
was hopeless to tliink of getting supplies for some time to come ;
consequently, as we had enough left in our bunkers to take us
up to 'Frisco, we replenished our stock of fresh water and
provisions, weighed anchor and steamed away.
Other sliips were, however, not so fortunate. One French
cargo boat had been lying in the bay for two weeks waiting for
coal, but, notwithstanding the promise of double wages to those
who would work, the steamer could not obtain so much as a ton.
Her ca])tain informed us that the ship was due in one month at
Baltimore to take up a fresh charter and had then only just
sufficient time to reach that poi't. But the urgency of immediate
coaling did iiot in any way worry the pleasure-loving, procras-
tinating people, and the prospect of that steamer being ready to
leave for another two weeks was very remote. The French captain
was a philosophic man, howevei', and les beaux yeux of the Chilian
girls seemed fully to compensate him for the delay of his ship,
which, though he had done his best to avoid it, was after all not
his ti'ouble so mueli as that of his owners. Dou])tless the opening
of the Panama Canal will affect considerably the importance of
Coroncl as a coaling port ; though, on the other hand, it may lead
to the development of some of the industries at presejit in their
infancy. Petrcjlcuin was re])oi'te(l to be present in the vicinity,
though whether in profitable quantities I could not learn. It
was in the streets of Corojiel that I first saw oxen in yokes used
as beasts of burden : and I felt so sorry for the poor animals
26
MY FIRST VOYAGE— BOUND FOR 'FRISCO
patiently standing in the full blaze of the sun, compelled by
their yoke to move in unison. The town was very hot and the
glare from the coloured-plaster houses trying to the eyes ; so
I was not at all sorry to be once again at sea.
Resuming our voyage, we re-entered the tropics and on near-
ing the equator we experienced some extremely hot weather.
The sea was like a sheet of glass ; not a ripple disturbed its
surface. One immediately thought of some poor sailing ship lying
])ecalmed in these waters — the dreaded Doldrums ; of the deadly
monotony of life for those on board, who see day after day the
same unruffled sheet of water, the same pitiless sun bleaching
the sails as they cling lazily to the mast. It was stiflingly hot on
board oui- steamer, making as we were a nine-knot breeze. The
])iteh bubbled in the bridge-deck and the iron decks were too
hot for the bare foot of any white man. Here and there in the
glassy seas I caught sight of the fin of a shark stealthily gliding
along.
Neai'ly two weeks after leaving Coronel we sighted the
Galapagos Isles, noted for their turtles. The following day
we recrossed the equator, tliat day being the hottest of our
voyage.
Day after day we steamed steadily north till the coast of Lower
California appeared on the horizon, and off the coast we sighted
the first sail since leaving Chile — for over twenty days we might
have been the only craft afloat ! The weather daily grew cooler,
as we were now in the north-east trades, and our voyage was
drawing to an end.
At four o'clock in the morning of the 24t]i April we picked up
the American pilot off the coast of San Francisco. I was on the
bridge at tlie time with the captain when the pilot boarded us,
and f I'om him we learnt the latest news. So full of iiitcrest to me
at all times was the manoeuvring of a deep-sea steamer that it
mattered little at what hour of the night or day we entered or
left a port — -I would be up on the bridge the whole time. During
the years I travelled perhaps no subject has been of more
cojiiinual Jntei'cst to me than that of navigation or anything
27
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
to do witli the handling of a ship ; licnce the freshness and
strangeness of ever_vi:hing was specially absorbing.
We entered the Golden Gate at sunrise, and anchored shortly
afterwards in the bay of San Franeiseo, one of the most beautiful
harbours in the world. It was the 24th day of .Vpril. Our voyage
had taken us sixty-nine days. To all on board save myself it
had been uneventful enough, nothing untoward having occurred
dui-ing the trip. To me, however, the journey from the first day
to the last had been full. I had learnt much of a life of which
befoi'c I had been totally ignorant ; I had gained knowledge of
the laws that govern the coming and going of the ocean tramp
and of the life and daily routine of those on board. The im-
pressions of life in general that I obtained on that hi'st voyage
are still verv clear in mv mind.
28
CHAPTER II
FIRST EXPERIENCES IX CALIFORNIA
MY arrival in San Francisco was just twelve months
after the great earthquake and fire that demolished
and devastated so large a part of that city. A section
of the town was still almost in ruins. Though to a certain extent
the full effects of the great catastrophe were no longer apparent,
the results were still obvious in nearly every street one crossed.
Gaping holes, twisted girders, broken masonry and tons of
wreckage met the eye on all sides.
To make matters worse, the town was also in the tlu'ocs of a
laboui' war. Every effort of the capitalists to rebuild the citj'
v:as thwarted by the policy of the labour unions, whose demands
struck one as being as childish as they were outrageous. Seven
sections of labour were then on strike ! The unprecedented wage
of five dollars gold a day was being paid for ordinary unskilled
labour— for knocking mortar off bricks. The carpenters had
struck for seven dollars a day, and when their demands wei-e
granted the boilermakers followed suit ; and so it went on.
One felt as nmch admiration for the inhabitants of the wrecked
city in their determination that a still more splendid town
should arise f]'om the ruins as one felt contempt for the un-
patriotic actions and demands of the labour unions, whose
one aim seemed to be to take advantage of the city's plight.
However, the last straw was the car strike. When the earme]i
ceased work and demanded increased wages tlie capitalists put
their foot down. Strike-breakers were brought into the city by
train loads from all parts of America and the strike failed, though
not before many attempts had been made to wreck the cars by
dynamite. A signal defeat for the unions resulted, and I believe
29
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
I am correct in saying that the cars in San Francisco are to-day
run by non-union men.
r That it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good was very
clearly illustrated ])y the increase of business in Oakland across
the bay, though a great deal of 'Frisco's business went up to
Seattle after the fire, and incidentally much of the vice went
with it.
Before leaving the Strathyre and securing permission to enter
the States I had to undergo an examination by the immigration
officials. I was asked : " Have you any work to do? " I had not ;
but I was wrestling in my mind as to whether it would be politic
to confess that fact. However, I replied in the negative. I was
then informed I could enter the country, after having satisfied
the officials that I had fifty dollars in my possession and that
I was neither an anarchist, a polygamist nor an ex-criminal. I
learnt afterwards that, had I said that I had some work to go
to, I should not have been permitted to enter, owing to the
regulations in force against indentured labour. To tell the truth
in America is the best policy — sometimes !
One of the instances when it is the best policy not to tell the
truth is over the question of alien or liead tax. This tax —
four dollars, I believe, I paid in 'Frisco— is charged on all
persons entering the United States. Those exempt, besides
American citizens, are Canadians or those who reside in Canada ;
but — and here's the point — the person entering from tliat
territory, whether he is Canadian born or not, is eoinpelled to
show a clear year's residence in that country. The ab'iurdity of
tliis stipulation is apparent in the following instaiiee :- A
Canadian-born enters the States ; he cntci's free, showing, say,
twenty-live years' j-esidence in Canada. He stays, wc will sup})ose,
in the United States for a few months and then ix-turns to his
home. Xow, after a stay in his own country of pcrha])s a couple
of months, he decides to return again to America, lie does so ;
but on this occasion, according to the regulations, he has to pay
alien tax because he cannot show a clear year's residence in
Canada ! The absurdity of this })recious piece of American
30
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN CALIFORNIA
legislation is apparent.^ The obvious course to adopt is not to
tell the truth ; and then everyone is satisfied !
Having left the ship, and being now free to enter the States,
I tasted my hrst cocktail and learnt then the meaning of the
price " two bits." As this is the hallmark of your knowledge of
the West I impart the valuable information. It is twenty-five
cents. I further learnt, this first day in 'Frisco, the phrase " up
against it." This expression was in the mouth of every San
l-^'ranciscan when he was discussing the one and only topic of
conversation with visitors^ — the fire of 190G ; they never talk
there of the 'quake ! It was certainly a very expressive phrase,
and one that aptly described the condition of the inhabitants
of 'Frisco during their troubles, whether from fire, 'quake or
labour unions.
As fifty dollars represented all my worldly wealth, I had
devised some wonderful schemes for economising. I had an
opportunity of putting into practice my resolution to economise
this first day of mine in America. As it was very hot work
tramping through the dusty streets, I went into a saloon and
asked for a glass of beer (" steam beer," I think they call it — one
generally gets more steam than beer unless the bar-keeper knows
his job well) and I put down a nickel (five cents). I was curtly
informed: "All drinks fifteen cents each, two for ' two bits.' "
I tried lemonade. No good ! I was told that with a " free lunch "
counter they could not afford to sell anything at live cents a
glass. Not having then the " gall " to walk out I paid my fifteen
cents, but despite the fact that I had just had lunch I made
terrific inroads into the " free lunch " counter. I am quite sure
that the saloon inade nothing out of the deal. I left feeling proud
that I had put my new scheme of economy into practice, though
I nuist confess to feeling very sluggish for the rest of the after-
noon. 3Iy next visit was to a cigar store to buy some Virginia
cigarettes. The '' wise guy " (I believe that is the correct term)
in the store said that he did not stock them ; in fact, he half
' It may be that this stipulation is no longer in force ; I only speak from
my experience in 1907.
31
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
insinuated there were no such cigarettes on the market. " We
only sell foreigners," he informed me. By that, of course, I
inferred he meant Turkish or Egyptian cigarettes — and not
strangers ! I apologised for my ignorance, pleading the foolish
notion that as Virginia was one of the States of the Union it had
occurred to me that the tobacco grown there might be smoked
in America.
I had in my possession a letter of introduction to an English-
man who had left home quite a youngster and was, I had been
told at home, in business as a commission merchant in Oakland.
As he lived in Alameda, across the bay, I decided to look him
up the following day. Early the next moi-ning I caught one
of the many ferries that ply to and fro, and reached Alameda.
I found the house and presented my letter. With true Calif ornian
hospitality I was invited to stay a few days till 1 had made
arrangements as to what I was going to do. Much to my surprise
my host informed me in course of conversation that his business
was not exactly that of a commission merchant ; he was a saloon-
keeper. He said that he had thought it a kindness not to make
any mention of his real occupation to his folks at home, as he
had no wish to shock their conventional ideas. He also asked
me when writing home not to mention the true character of his
commission merchant's business. Needless to say I promised.
I must confess that I was not altogether sorry that my merchant
had materialised into a saloon-keeper, as I felt he would more
readily understand iny desire to see life. Though I had come
out ostensibly to find some conmicreial positioji, I had, I fear,
but little intention then of settling down right away. I had my
freedom, and was possessed of but one idea — to gain experience.
To do that I was ready and willing to do anything, or to go
anywhei'c.
In the company of my host I visited his salooii. whicli lay in
the central part of Oakland. Whilst walking through Alameda
towards his saloon I caught sight of trains with ciaiiging bells
rushing througli the streets ; at lirst sight they appealed to me
very strange. !My companion, as we walked along, pointed out to
-\2
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\\ V l< AM
,\ I KAMI-; 'I'll ■iiih: ( It a.iii:\ ( '. \ii-.
S w 1''k \\i isi ()"> Si
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN CALIFORNIA
me wliat were to him noteworthy objects of interest. He first
drew my attention to a church, remarking briefly : " That's
where I was married ! " I silently sympathised. A little farther
on he casually said: "I laid this side-walk on which we are
walking when I was up agai]ist it two years ago ! " I was natur-
ally very surprised to hear a man, married to a charming lady
and living in a lovely house, talking of " running a saloon "
and " laying cement side-walks." ISly English orthodox idea that
to work with your hands was derogatory here received its first
rude shock. Further, I secretly registered a determination to
emulate at the first opportunity my companion's noteworthy
performances. Strange is it not how small things alter the
course of one's life ? Had my companion been a staid business
man, possibly to-day I might be a well-to-do alderman in San
Francisco ; whereas he, being what he was, imparted to me much
of the roaming spirit of the West — and thus to-day I am what
I am !
In his saloon I met all sorts and conditions of men. I fully
entered into the spirit of my surroundings (though not too deeply
into the alcoholic part) and mixed freely in the company of
gamblers, miners, and the usual run of men who are habitues of a
bar in the Western States. But for the fact that there was no
vacancy I was quite ready to take the job of a waiter in the
saloon — to cany to and fro trays of drinks to the thirsty fre-
quenters — so determined was I to penetrate into the different
strata of life. The intense novelty and the great contrast from
the conventional atmosphere in which I had up to then lived
gave a zest to all my experiences in the West.
After a few days in these surroundings I had carefully ac-
(piircd a stock of choice Americanisms with which to interlard
my speech, and I made valiant efforts to acquire the intonation
of the Westerner, which is not the nasal twang of the globe-
trotter or that heard in the Xew England Stares. Notwithstand-
ing, liowevc]', my fluent flow of Western slang it was always
my English accent that gave me away. Our uneven accentua-
t.ion in speech, in contrast to the monotone of the American,
c 33
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
constitutes, I think, the chief difference between the two
modes of speech.
Things were very dull on both sides of the bay, business being
more or less stagnant ; and so, notwithstanding my efforts and
those of my host, I was unable to obtain work of any description.
To get any oflice work was out of the question ; and I must
confess I was not anxious to obtain a job of this description. It
was too tame for me. I therefore decided to go up to Portland,
for I heard work was plentiful there and in the lumber camps in
the vicinity of the town. I felt that watching games of poker,
prowling round the docks, running the risk of a broken head in
Chinatown and seeing moving pictures in " dime " shows was
hardly the way to make a fortune. ^ly saloon-keeper friend,
however, suggested that before I left California I should go up
to a fruit ranch owned by some friends of his and there get a
glimpse of i-eal Californian life. I jumped at the opportunity
and started off the same afternoon. A three hours' train ride
through very picturesque country brought me to my destina-
tion — a small place called Hcaldsburg. From here I had been
instructed to strike boldly through the countj'y due west, till I
reached certain roads, one of which led to the ranch.
It was just getting dark when I alighted from the train, or,
to be more ti'uthful, when I fell off — this unorthodox and some-
what undignified method of alighting being occasioned by the
unusual distance from the step to the gromid and the absence of
a platform. On leaving the station, or " depot " as it is termed
out there — with a tremendous accent on the " e '' — I started to
steer my westerly course ; but like a true tenderfoot I took the
wrong road, passing by the path I should have taken. I thought
in my ignorance that it could ]iot possibly aspire to the title of a
road, haviiig yet to learn what roads were like in California.
Presently I entei-ed a tliick forest of redwood trees. It was quite
dark before I i-eaclu'd it, but when I had gone some fifty yards
througlithe foi'c^t of toweriiig timber the blackness became so
inteiise tliat I could not see a yai'd in h'ont of or above me.
IL was only witJi the greatest diJIienlty lliaL 1 could follow the
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN CALIFORNIA
path I was treading. I had never before, and indeed have never
since, experienced such darkness as that which enveloped me
then. I was fortunately in possession of good nerves, for the
rustling in the bushes and the slight movements amidst the
towering timber that every now and then reached my ears in
that impenetrable darkness were, to say the least, very trying.
However, carefully picking my steps I blundered on till I
found my way barred by a fence. I was then confirmed in the
belief that I was on the wrong road. There remained then no-
thing else for me to do but to retrace my steps, and I accordingly
did so. I heaved quite a sigh of relief when I saw once again the
light of the stars. Eventually I reached my destination, only to
find the farmhouse and its occupants wrapped in slumber. My
arrival soon started the dogs going ; they awakened the house-
hold, and, as I was expected, a faint voice from the darlcness
cried out : " Are you the Englishman ? " My accent, apparently,
satisfied them that I was, for the dogs were quietened and I was
welcomed in.
After my two hours of prowling about redwood forests I was
not at all sorry to have some supper and get to bed. To my hosts
I attributed the lateness of my arrival to every other cause than
the right one ; for I was slowly learning wisdom.
The day after my arrival was very wet, a drizzling rain
falling all day. However, despite the rain, one of my young hosts
took me over the ranch, showing me all the growing vines. The
ranch covered many acres of ground, and when we had seen all
over it it was full time to have some lunch. The day following
we drove over to a neighbouring saw-mill, where I had the oppor-
tunity of seeing the big redwood trees being converted into
marketable timber. The road to the mill seemed in my inexperi-
enced eyes impassable for any vehicle. I had yet to learn the
strength of an American buggy and the great amount of knock-
ing about it will stand. Over boulders and through running
streams our buggy went jumping and bumping from side to side.
On taking the reins I found that I needed all my attention and
skill to avoid capsizing the vehicle. A Calif ornian buggy is, how-
35
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
ever, made for wear and it is astonishing what strain it will
stand, notwithstanding its apparently fragile appearance. A
buggy on a Californian I'oad is only equalled by a Russian
droshky on a road in ]Manehin-ia.
From the saw-mill we drove to a neighbouring ranch, the
owner of which had some yoimg horses which he wanted to catch
and break in. He enlisted oiu- services, or at least those of my
companion ; mine were thrown in. Having tied up our buggy
we went off to the field where the horses were grazing. I was
stationed at the one exit of the field, whilst the other two
mounted horses and started driving the animals they wanted to
catch down to the opening near where I was concealed. My
instructions were to keep the horses from going up the road, the
corral into which they were to be driven lying in the opposite
direction. The horses were driven out and I executed my flank
movement with brilliant success — a not very dangerous or
arduous task. The horses were soon safe in the corral ; and then
the fun began ! My young companion (the owner of the horses
appearing no more anxious to undertake the work than did I)
entered the corral and, having marked his horse, deftly roped
him with a lasso after one unsuccessful throw. Quickly taking a
turn round a tree stump he held on, the captured horse pulling
back with all his might. The pressure on the animal's neck soon
became so severe that it choked and dropped. The line being
slackened the horse quickly recovered, and so the struggle went
on. But soon the young animal, moi-e frightened than wild,
became exhausted ; wliei'eu])on my companion, sidling a mule
alongside, had him speedily tied. The other horses were
similarly dealt with, only one of them giving any considerable
trouble. To such a degree did this one cari'v his resistance and
fight before suljmiltiug that he even allowed himself to be
dragged along some yards o\"erthe stony ground behind the mule
to which he was fastened. Howevei'. a heavy ^hi]) and the ])aiii
of being dragged over the shai'p stones soon showed him the
wisdom of submitting and of following the mule. ^ly companions
told me that it was generally the case that the horse that resisted
< 36
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN CALIFORNIA
the longest became in the end the easiest to handle. On the way
back I asked my companions whether either of them would ride
one of those young horses just caught ; they both replied very
emphatically : " Guess not ! " Riding bronchos was, I found, not
an everyday vocation — even in California. The usual method
employed for breaking in horses is to harness them with mules
pulling a heavy load ; this soon takes out their superfluous
"freshness."
The next couple of days I spent roaming over the ranch.
Whilst wandering near a creek I espied some glittering stones
in its bed. Geography had taught me California was noted for
gold ; so the remembrance of this fact, coupled with the shining
pieces of stone in my hand, fully confirmed me in the fact that
I had discovered gold. I had not yet learnt that all is not gold
that glitters — in more senses than one !
Thoughts of motor cars, private yachts and suppers at the
Savoy flashed through my brain. I spent the w^hole of that day
w^ading creeks, smashing up rocks, and getting myself in a
generally dirty condition. Now and then a slight doubt assailed
me as to whether it were gold that I had discovered — for there
seemed tons of the stone about ! No ! It was gold, all right !
Having carefully retained some of the choicest specimens to
take back with me to San Francisco, I spent two more pleasant
days roaming the country round. j\Iany Italians were settled
round about engaged in vine-growing and fruit-farming, both
very profitable occupations. Several fruit-canneries were erected
in the district and fed by these fruit farms. The fruit-farming
industry was rather humorously summed up in the sen-
tence : — " They eat what they can, and what they can't they
can ! " In passing, I would just say that I sincerely hope my
reader will not make the same howler when repeating this saw,
as attributed to one young English girl (by Americans, of course),
who is alleged to have told it to her friends thus : " They eat
what they can and what they can't they — put into tins ! "
This story was told me in 'Frisco to illustrate and to convince
me of the Englishman's lack of humour.
37
:)
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Bidding my charming hosts farewell I returned to San
Francisco. On my way there in the train I showed my gold (?)
quartz to some men sitting opposite to me. One of them, after
having examined a piece with a critical and knowing eye,
remarked seriously : " Gee ! you've got something good there ! "
He followed up these words by adding that he hoped that I had
marked the spot from where I had obtained the specimens. I
looked at him with a do-you-take-me-for-a-tenderfoot sort of
expression and replied loftily: "Why, sure I did." I had one
small piece of satisfaction when an assayer in 'Frisco to whom I
had taken the stones drily remarked : " Shasta mica ; tons of it
in the neighbourhood ! " and that was that I was not the only
fool in the world, remembering my vis-d-vis in the train.
Having thus gained a glimpse, if only a short one, of real
Californian life, I started on my plans to go up to Portland. I
felt that it was about time to do some work !
38
CHAPTER III
EXPERTEXCES IX OREGOX AXD WASIIIXGTOX
MY return to San Francisco was made just in time to
allow me to catch the Strathyre, which was sailing that
same evening for Portland, Oregon, where she was to
load a cargo of timber for China. As the American law forbids
any foreign ship to carry cargo or passengers from one American
port to another, I signed on the articles as purser for this short
trip.
We left San Francisco in the evening, passing through the
Golden Gate when it was dark ; when well in the Pacific we
dropped our pilot and headed north. On the following day we
ran into a thick mist which necessitated a sharp look-out ; the
wliistle was kept going continuously. During the day we passed
quite close to a school of whales, and I was able at last to
obtain a good glimpse of their unwieldy bodies.
After three days' steaming, out of sight of the coast most of
the tim.e, we approached land and in the afternoon picked up
the sea-pilot who brought the ship into Astoria, a small town at
the entrance to the River Columbia. Here we anchored. After a
short wait for the tide we started up the river under the guidance
of a river-pilot. The scenery along the Columbia is very pretty,
the banks being thickly wooded on both sides, the long slender
pines growing to a great height. The banks were lighted at
intei'vals for navigation purposes, these little lights twinkling
like fireflies in the darkness of the banks. We steamed through
calm waters till we reached Rainier, where we anchored. It was
just midnight and the little town lay wrapped in slumber.
hiVer\i:hing was quiet and still save for the croaking of the frogs
in the forests.
39
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Early the following morning I left the ship and caught the
morning train to Portland. We passed through gi-eat stretehes of
thickly timbered country, though along the line of railroad much
of the timber had been biu-nt do\vn and the scene was barren
and desolate. I reached Portland shoitly before noon and was
very much impressed by the town. It seemed to me the soundest
and most stable on the Pacific coast. The atmosphere of com-
mercial prosperity pervading the streets was in some degree
lacking in the other cities of like size on this coast — particularly
in Seattle. Portland is certainly not so much in the general
public's eye nor is its progress sensational ; but its foundation
and progress are the more sound and sure. As a consequence
Portland suffers less from the periodical booms and depressions
which occur from time to time along this coast. A boom is a
thing to be avoided, as many a poor investor knows to his cost,
but, unfortunately, many of the boosters of these Western towns
do not realise that the reaction must follow the boom as surely
as thunder must follow the lightning ; and the reaction must
ever be in the shape of a slump !
Portland is eminently a conservative city established on a
sure foundation. One might term it an inland town with a
seaport. Its growth lias been sleady. The harbour is one of the
largest fresh- water harbours in the world, and, at the same time,
the city lies in the midst of one of the richest agricultural valleys
in America — the Williamette Valley. Nearly every foot of it is
splendid agricultural land and of yearly increasing value. If I
had a thousand dollars to invest, not to speculate with, and had
the clioice of any town on the Pacific coast, I should not have
much dilliculty in selection.
On my arrival I presented a letter which had been given me
in San Francisco to the Eastern and Western Lumber Company.
I told them I wanted to get a job in one of their camps. I was
then ix'fen-ed to the boss-foreman of the camps — a hard-looking
s])eeimen of humanity, as he well need be for the j)osition. On
my cx]ilaining what I wanted he gruffly asked me: "Do you
mind getting killed, young fellow ? " I replied that though 1
40
EXPERIENCES IN OREGON AND WASHINGTON
was not exactly anxious I was prepared to take my chance. He
thereon gave me a note to the boss of No. 1 Camp, which I learnt
was situated at a place called Eufaula, on the Washington side
of the River Columbia.
Having two daj^s to spend before the river-steamer bound for
this spot was to sail, I hired a room for fifty cents a day and in it
deposited my bag (ni}^ " grip," I had by now learnt to call it) and
started out to see the town. The greater part of my baggage, I
might mention, I had left behind in Alameda, realising the folly
of can-ying unnecessary clothes while I was on the move.
A line from a man in 'Frisco obtained for me a good lunch at
the Arlington Club with one of the lumber-men of the town ;
there I tasted the famous Hood River strawberry, which though
smaller than that at home is quite as tasty. However, it was not
so many weeks afterwards that the sight of one of those straw-
berries was the surest way of extracting profane language from
me, but of that anon.
The period of two days having expired, on the evening of the
19th I caught a little river boat — the Beaver — bound down
the Columbia, I took with me only a blanket, in which I rolled
a few odds and ends, and thus equipped started off to become
a lumberer.
At nine o'clock we left and arrived at our destination at
dayl)reak, having stopped at intervals at places along the ^'iver
taking on and discharging passengers and cargo. Despite all
the noise and hubbub I managed to snatch a few hours' sleep
during the trip, but was awake by dawn. Everything at that
hour of the morning was very damp, the dews at night being
hea^-y ; but the world seemed very fresh and clean.
The sun Avas just rising when I left the boat and headed for
the camp to which I was bound. It almost goes without saying
that I lost my way through the forest and clearings, but blunder-
ing on I eventually came on to a railroad track. Whilst I was
inquiring from a man whom I met near by as to the direction
in which I should go to reach the camp, a light engine, which I
was told was bound there, came along. The driver seeing us
41
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
waiting slowed down, and a gruff voice sliouted, "Jump on ! "
A quick glance had shown me a small platform on the front part
of the engine on which two men were already standing. I
assumed I had to jump on to this. I did so, fortunately without
mishap, though not without some inward qualms that I might
miss my footing and fall under the moving engine. It apparently
never dawned on those lumberers that I might not be as ac-
customed to mounting running engines as they. In a few minutes
we reached the camp. I first got some breakfast. Whether a man
has a job or not no one goes hungry in a lumber camp !
After breakfast I interviewed the boss, from whoin I learnt that
whilst at the moment thei'c were no jobs going in the camp a
contractor working a section of the companx 's limber wanted
a fireman for his donkey eiigine. Asked as to wliether I could do
this I insinuated with perfect equanimity that what I didn't
know of firing donkey engines was not worth knowing. Conse-
quently I got the job ! The pay — -that concerned me most — I
was told was three dollars a day and " all found." This was as
good a wage as was paid for any section of work going in the
camps at that time.
Having got my job, I thought it would be just as well if I
endeavoured to find out as to what kind of work it was that I
had to do, and that was worth such a good wage. From tactful
inquiries made I gathered that " all I had to do " was to saw up
trees, chop them up into firewood, and feed the furnace of the
donkey engine. It sounded easy enough ; and whenever any
doubts as to whether I was a past master in the use of an
American axe assailed mc, the memory of how I successfully
hacked down a tree in the garden at home fully dissipated them.
On the strength of my job I got " on tick " from the camp-store
a pair of woodmen's leather gloves ; and then gaily went off into
the forest to find out whei'c I was to begin my work on the
morrow.
I found the grubhouse and the ]:)unkhouse, and strolled into
the former. The good dame in chai'ge presently asked me what I
wanted. I i-eplied laconically " Nothing." Finding this pertinent
42
EXPERIENCES IN OREGON AND WASHINGTON
question did not hasten my departure the worthy lady went on
to inform me that the liouse was only for use of the lumberers
during mcal-timcs and was not a sitting-room ; and, further, she
inquired : " Have you been in a lumber camp before ? " Satisfy-
ing her curiosity on this score (though as to whether in a truthful
manner or not I will not confess) I went off and investigated the
log-dwelling where I was to sleep that night — and many nights
afterwards, as I then thought !
The bunkliouse was a large wooden building, a kind of barn
built out of rough logs. I pushed open the door and looked in.
]\Iy first view rather damped my ardour and my youthful
ambition of becoming a Western lumberer. The inside of the
shack was lined with rows of bunks, in and round which lay
littered about in hopeless confusion clothes, boots and plenty
of dirt. Having feasted my eyes on this romantic touch of the
Wild W^est, I sat down on a tree stump outside and began to
consider my position. Here was I, a young man of twenty-one — •
who not many months ago prided himself on his immaculate
garb —sitting on a mossy tree stump, clothed in a pair of
dungaree pants and a rough shirt, a prospective donkey-engine
fireman ! The change was so sudden that I felt somewhat like
a fish out of water. Nevertheless, I cheered up and consoled
myself with the thought that I was seeing the world with a
vengeance and was acquiring plenty of experience ! My spirits
rising, I began to reckon that, with the thirty-odd dollars I had
still left out of my initial capital, after two months' work — I
decided I would stop that long — I should be worth two hundred
dollars. Tiie idea that my services would not be retained for just
so long as / wished never entered my head. Thus calculating I
had reached in my mind the stage where I owned half tlie forests
ol >Vashi}igton, when my reverie was ijitcrrupted by the men
returning from -woi'k. Looking up I s;nv the sun was just setting.
After the lumberers had had a perfunctory wash I joined them
in their course to the grubhouse. We all sat down to a well-laid
table. Tlic food was rough and plain, but v/holcsome and plenty
of it. After the evening meal was finished the men sorted them-
43
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
selves out — some to play cards, others to smoke and yarn. Some
lounged in their hunks, whilst one or two ground their axes
blunted by the day's work. An axe is to the lumberer what the
lariat is to the eowboy.
I sat by a silent observer. Fragments of conversation reached
my ears, chiefly on the subject of some individual's latest
attempt to paint red the "tenderloin " district of Portland. I
felt rather out of it all ; for I was in a little world strange and
new to me. One or two exchanged a few remarks with me, but
by the majority I was little noticed. When asked from where I
had come, I discreetly replied: " From South America." I had
no wish to conceal my nationality, which was obvious to them ;
but I will frankly admit I was none too anxious to make conspicu-
ous the fact that I was a raw Englishman just out from home.
Even in the short time that I had been then in these Western
States I had noticed that so often when a Westerner met an
Englishman of the better class he assumed right away that he
was up against a " doggoned " fool. For that we have to thank
some of the gilded youths and remittanee-men who have been
our forerunners. I had been told many times before I had come
out West that Englishmen were unpopular in these Western
States ; some of them are — and rightly so too. The tx^j^e of
Englishman who, though he has made America his home and
makes his living from that country, is yet always belittling the
place in which he lives is unpopular and most deservedly so.
An instance I have in mind is the case of one Englishman, a
long resident in California, who wrapped every child of his at
its birth in a Union Jack. Such a type of man both England and
America can well do without ! In his own eyes lu may be a
patriot in exile ; in mine he is an ungrateful cur. Another type,
and perhaps an even more despicable one, is represented by the
Englishman who takes out his '' first " papers whilst in America,
and on the slightest opportunity will avail himself of American
protection. In different surroundings he is a loyal Britisher and
the first one to damn the Yanks. With such a type also both
countries can well dispense.
44
EXPERIENCES IN OREGON AND WASHINGTON
In all my wanderings in the West — from 'Frisco to Klondyke
and back — I found without exception that I was as cordially
treated as in any other country in which I have since travelled.
I found the Western American a man, sincere, and ever ready to
lend a helping hand. I have only the pleasantest remembrances
of the many types with which I came into contact whilst roaming
on this coast. But I used tact and further made use, or en-
deavoured to, of the brains God gave me. From the start I
avoided odious comparisons, was always ready to acknowledge
the many " pros " that life in these states had over that in my
own country, and had no intense desire to remind them of the
also many " cons." I endeavoured everywhere to live by the
axiom of doing in Rome what the Romans do, so far as was
compatible witli common-sense. Should these lines by chance
meet the eye of any young Englishman who proposes to become
a settler in the West — and he could do far worse — let him just
note my words ; and if he acts on them, he will never add to the
unpopularity of a Britisher in the Western States of America,
but will be as well received as though " he came from Missouri."
One by one the men turned in and soon, but for an occasional
word here and there and the deep breathing of the sleepers,
silence reigiied. Outside in the sleeping forests all was still. I
had found a vacant bunk well filled with straw some time before ;
and this I ap])ropriated. I lay awake listening to the croaking of
the frogs and meditating on my new surroundings till 1 fell
asleep. It was then about nine o'clock. Men in lumber camps
keep eai'ly hours, as they have to be early j-isei's.
It had seemed but a matter of an hour or two l)eforc I was
awakened by the movements of my neighboiu's. Rubl)ing my
eyes and looking about me I saw it was just daylight. I jumped
out and put on my clothes — at least, the few I had taken off —
and joined the little cj'cnvd of meii outside, each waiting his turn
at t])e one tin bowl to get a hasty wash. It was veiy cold, the
sun not yet having risen, and the de^v had been very heavy
during the Jiight. J>y six o'clock we were all seated at breakfast.
Mush, hot cakes, meat and eggs, with hot eofi'ee would satisfy
45
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
the most fastidious man ; and one could hardly with truth apply
that adjective to a lumberer.
Half-an-hour afterwards the whole party of us were on our
way through the damp forests towards the part where opera-
tions were going on. A few minutes' walk brought us to the
clearing whei'c the hauling apparatus was to be found, together
with my donkey engine. I scrutinised the latter as well as the
man in charge of it, who, on seeing me, pointed out an axe, a
two-handled saw, and a large felled tree, and without any waste
of words told me to get to work. The diameter of the log was
about three feet, and with the long saw I started merrily away
to saw off my first length. This I did without any mishap.
However, by the time I was nearly through the second length
I began to feel pretty warm, the sun by then having risen well
into the sky. The heat coupled with the unusual exercise made
me very thirsty, and I drank copiously — ^too copiously — of the
cool water near by. Having sawn up three or four lengths I then
started to chop them up with the long-handled axe. Then it
Avas that I found the job was worth three dollars a day ; then it
was that I learnt that it was not so easy as it looked to wield an
American axe. For with every stroke of the axe I wedged it so
tightly in the log that it was even harder work to withdraw it.
The engineer in charge of the donkey engine watched for a short
Avhile my awkward effoits with an amused smile on his face.
I also caught out of the corner of my eye the foreman gazing
at my acrobatic feats with the axe, doubtless wondering
whether he ought to supply me with a pail in which to stand. ^
The forincr at last motioned me aside and, picking up an iron
wedge and a nine-pound hammer, with one or two lieav}^ blows
on the wedge split the log in halves ; then, with a few deft cuts
with the axe coinpleted the process of converting the log into
firewood.
I valiantly strove to emulate his deeds with the luunmer,
wedge and axe, and added a little to the stock of firewood which
— foitiuiately for tlie hauling operations — had been there before
^ A precaution taken with "tenderfoots'' to avoid an accident.
46
EXPERIENCES IN OREGON AND WASHINGTON
I came. I also gingerly fed the furnace, till the engineer rather
lost patience and told me to put on plenty of wood and not
scraps.
In this way I laboured on, taking periodical spells of rest, pints
of water, and a smoke every now and then, till the whistle blew
for the midday meal. How I blessed its welcome sound ! Throw-
ing down my axe I followed the rest of the men back to the grub-
house where we were soon seated before a good spread. I was,
however, more thirsty than hungry after my unusual exertions.
Having finished the meal I lit my pipe and, whilst strolling
towards the bunkliouse, I met the contractor who had employed
me. He stopped and said briefly that he thought the job of
firing was too heavy for mc — in other words, he was telling me
to " get." In my denseness I did not perceive that he was
leather kindly telling me that I was no darn good for the job
and was " firing " me ; so I calmly started to reassure him of
my ability soon to get used to the work. However, he made his
meaning plainer and I realised that I was "fired." He paid me
one dollar twenty-five cents for my morning's work ; I repacked
my few belongings and slowly returned to the junction a sadder
and wiser youth.
After all, I thought, it is only a change from the active to the
passive mood : I came to fire, but was fired ! I further consoled
myself with the thought that even getting the sack was experi-
ence ; so what had I to complain about ? The humour, too, of the
situation was by no means little : all my dreams of wealth and
of stopping there for at least two months being so rudely dis-
pelled by the lack of appreciation of my services on the part of
my employer.
I did not intend, however, to be content with this short
glimp:^e of a iumbcr camp so I decided to visit some of the other
camps in the vicinity, where perhaps I might strike a softer job.
I got i] bed that night at the lumber store, the storekeeper there
being a very good chap, who took pity on my inexperience. He
even took back the leather gloves that I had purchased on credit.
Early the next morning I got on one of the lumber ti'ains
47
A waxdp:hp:r's trail
bound for Camp 3, some miles off. The train consisted of
about twelve long flat cars, each laden with logs of some thirty
to forty feet in length, securely fastened to the car w^ith chains.
The logs were on their way to the river station, where they were
to be rafted and towed up the river to the saw-mills round Port-
land. The dimensions of these rafts are very great, some of them
containing over a million feet of timber.
The train on its way passed through great stretches of cleai'ed
forest which looked very barren and desolate, the ground being
littered with broken and chari'ed timber. Fire so often follows
in the wake of the lumbei'er and completes the destruction of
what young timber is not already destroyed in the extraction of
the felled trees, which very ficquently break much good timber
in their fall. America, it is to be feared, is living very heavily
on her capital in this industry ; for the supply of Oregon pine
must soon come to an end, if the extraction is continued to be
carried on in such a reckless and wasteful fashion. The term
" Oregon pine," by the way, is rather a misnomer, as the greater
part of the timber in that state and that of Washington is the
Douglas fir, spruce and hemlock also abounding in fairly large
quantities.
On arrival at the camp I approached the foreman for a job.
He was a taciturn Scotsman, concealing, however, iinich kind-
ness under his rough and rugged demeanour. He told me that at
the moment there was nothing doing, but that if I liked to wait
a few days sojnething ^^'ould turn up. I thereon ;iskcd him if I
might go over the camp and watch operations. "■ Why, sure ! "
was the ready response.
I had my evening meal that night in the large grubhouse
of the camp, where thei'c were seated some fifty or sixty me]i.
During the meal I had occasion to ask my iuigli])()iu' to ])ass nu;
the treacle. The following rather aniviiijig dialr)giie tlien ensued ;
'■ AVill you ])lease pass me the treacle V " " How's that ? "' was
the grunt that reached my eai ^. I repeated my ([uestion, though
this time with some little alteration : " Pass me the treacle — that
\ cllow tlo])e over tlieie." It was no good ; certaijily I got what I
48
EXPERIENCES IN OREGON ANT) WASHINGTON
wanted, but with the curt rejoinder: "Say, can't you speak
United States ? " With some heat I snapped back : " What the
hell do you call it then ? " "We call that molasses ! " was the
surly grunt I received in reply. I did not pursue the conversa-
tion any fiu-ther, feeling that it was not exactly wise to argue the
point, the odds there being sixty Westerners to one Englishman.
Unfortunately I am unable to reproduce the unimitatable drawl
of that Westerner, or the drawling " a " in " can't " and
" molasses." I leave it to my reader's imagination.
In a lumber camp it is a great breach of etiquette to be polite !
If you want an article or dish of food that is on the table but not
immediately in front of you, it is not expected of you to trouble
your neighbour who is busily engaged eating — all you have to
do is to reach over and get it yourself. That in doing so you brush
your sleeve over your neighbour's plate, or knock his food from
off his fork, why that's a mere bagatelle !
All the next two days I spent wandering through the forests
and watching the work that was going on. I first visited the
part where felling operations were in progress. The lumberers
in this occupation work in couples. The tree to be felled is first
selected by them, and then the best place where it is to fall
is afterwards chosen, to avoid the smashing of the surround-
ing timber as much as possible.
When I came on the scene the lumberers were engaged in
cutting with their axes a wedge in the tree — on the side where
it was to fall. The tree must have been nearly three hundred feet
in height, straight as a ship's mast, and it must have measured
fully live feet through the centre. With regular and rhythmic
blows of their axes the two men, facing each other, had soon
cut into a third of the thickness. They then started on the
opposite side, sawing obliquely downwards, using a large-
toothed t^\-o-handled saw, one man at either handle. After
steadily sawing for nearly an hour, an ever-increasing lean of
the tree towards the wedged side^ — away from the sawers- — and
an ominous cracking warned one of its approaching fall. A warn-
ing cry of " Timber ! " then rang through the forest. After a few
D 49
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
more cuts with the saw the stately monarcli of the forest swayed,
staggered, and then dipped slowly forward. With a crash that
echoed far and wide the towering pine fell, smashing many young
trees to fragments in its fall and shaking the earth.
The fallen tree was then sawn up into Icng-ths of varying
dimensions under the directions of the " scaler." The logs were
then dragged by wire hawsers attached to the donkey engine
through the forest to an available spot, there to be loaded on to
the railroad trucks, three logs to one truck. The strain on the
wires that haul these logs through the forest is tremendous ;
and the vicinity, where the blocks or sheaves through which the
wire ropes run, is a veritable danger zone. Under the heavy
strain the sheaves, though fastened as securely as possible to
trees, very often " carry away " ; in doing so they would sever
the limb from any human being they struck in their flight as
cleanly as would a shell from a twelve-inch gun. Despite the
most careful precautions, accidents such as this and others occur
only too frequently in the lumber camps ; though perhaps not
so frequently as in the saw-mills.
After a couple of days at this camp and no job having turned
up, I decided to make for the I'ivcr again and catch a boat back
to Portland. With this in mind I shouldered my pack and started
off for a small place called Stella, a distance of six miles, where
I was told I could catch a river boat.
I thanked the grim old foi-cmanfor his kindness in giving me
the opportunity of getting a practical insight into the lumbering
industry, of the working of whicli I Iiad obtained a good glimpse,
though certainly not as much as I liad anticipated when I was a
prospective donkey-engine fireman.
It was late in the afternoon wlien I set out with my pack on
my back for my destination — Stella.
50
\ I 111-: I .r\i i;i:k \" \ki •
CHAPTER IV
TRAVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
AFTER a long and weary tramp I reached the httle town
of Stella shortly after sundown. Stella is one of the
many little wooden settlements that lie along the
Colmnbia, where the timber from the neighbouring forests finds
an outlet ; it possesses one or two saw-mills fed by the locality.
As is the case with many of the small places on the Columbia,
Stella owned a small but flourishing industry — that of scouring
the river and picking up any stray logs tliat had broken away,
or had been broken away, from the great rafts that pass by on
tlieir way to the saw-mills in and round Portland. The stray logs
were captured, brought in and sold to the local saw-mill, " no
questions being asked." One man, who used a small motor boat
in this occupation, told me a good day was worth as much as
fifty dollars and more.
On finding that the river boat was not due till midnight I
looked about me. Anchored off the town was a large Norwegian
saili]!g ship loading a cargo of timber for the East. Making
inquiries as to what there was doing m the place in the way of
work, I learnt that the sailing ship was short-handed of long-
shoremen^ — ^the men employed in the work of loading the ship.
I asked my inforner^ — a huge raw-boned Swede — what the work
was like, to whir a he replied: " Why, quite easy ! " I thought
it might be for him, all bone and nuisclc, but what it would be
to ]ne was quite another question. However, I decided to tackle
the captain on the matter. On my asking him for a job he
jcjilied: "Do you want to work ? — well, be down at the ship
to-morrow sharp at seven ! " The rate of pay was fifty cents
an hour, with a furtlicr twenty-five cents an hour for overtime.
51
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
This class of work — longshoring — is the best paid unskilled
labour on the Western coast ; and consequently in America
as the rate of wages in the west is much higher than that
on the east coast. The pay is good, but the work is of the
hardest.
Having decided on my course of action I hired a room at the
one small hotel in the town and turned in early, as I felt that I
should need a good night's rest in view of next day's programme.
With my last failure clearly in my mind it had not been without
some hesitation that I had taken on this job ; for I was then
beginning to realise that hard manual work needed a lot of
practice. However, I succeeded in lulling my misgivings and,
like them, was soon asleep.
I was down at the ship sharp at seven in the morning. The
boat was lying about a hundred yards off the shore, and to reach
her one had to cross over floating rafts of railroad sleepers with
which the ship was being loaded. As many of these sleepers were
floating singly in the water I had to take great care in stepping,
or a ducking would have ensued. I reached the ship in safety,
though not without one or two hair-breadth escapes from going
into the river.
The job I had was that of stacking up the sleepers in rows in
the hold. As the timber was very wet, and the hold fairly high,
the work was by no means light ; but I was determined that I
would not be beaten in this attempt to hold my own. And I
won out ; though not v»-ithout feeling very weary and sore by
evening, when my hands were much blistered and torn through
handling the rough timber. We knocked off work at five o'clock.
I returned to my room feeling very tired but very happy !
Iiideed I felt as pleased with myself then and as proud of my
victory as though I had graduated from Balliol. My youthful
satisfaction at that moment may perhaps not have been as
childisli as it might seem, for the encouragement given mc by
that moral victory — it was more of a moral victory than of a
physical one — was not inconsiderable. It showed me what I could
do if I set my mind to it — and tried ! Had I been sacked at noon
52
TRAVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
as in my preceding job, I think there would have been a far
deeper sense of shame than of humour.
I worked all the next day ; but as the day following was
Sunday, when work was at a standstill, and as I further learnt
that the work for the next few days would be irregular the
supply of timber being near exhaustion, I decided to return to
Portland. With earnings amounting to nine dollars in my pocket
and my blanket roll on my back, I caught the river boat that
evening. Early the next morning we stopped at Rainier, where
I found the Strathyre still lying. I decided therefore to spend the
Sunday with my old friends on board and return by train to
Portland on the morrow.
On my relating my experiences to the officers on board the
Strathyre they were at first rather sceptical, but my raw and
blistered hands fully convinced them of the truth of my tale.
To my dismay they one and all began to reproach me for being
so foolish as to do manual work. They could not, or would not,
see that I wanted the experience.
On the following day I returned to Portland, though not till
I had inquired at the saw-mill at Rainier if there were any work
available for me, much to the disgust of the chief officer who
was really quite impatient about my methods.
For a few days after my return to Portland efforts to obtain
some work were ineffectual, though I made many visits to the
various saw-mills in the vicinity. Unfortunately also the survey-
ing parties, which go out each spring, were filled up, and
consequently there was no opportunity for me to join.
Whilst visiting the saw-mills, I was very interested in observ-
ing the working of the ingenious and almost human-like
machinery there in use. I watched with fascination the large
band-saws cutting through huge rough logs with as much ease
as though they were cheese, the working of the ingenious
" hands " and " dogs " which so accurately regulated the
movements of the timber — in short, all the machinery that
reduced the parent logs to strips of timber of any size required.
During one of my visits I was the unwilling witness of an
53
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
accident ol a very ugly description. Whilst one of the large
saws was revolving at a very great speed, cutting through the
rough log, a splinter flew off and in its terrible flight struck
one of the mill hands. The s])linter, over a foot long and of some
inches in thickness, pierced the right arm of the unfortunate
man and penetrated his chest, ])inning the arm to the body. It
AMIS, of course, a fatal accident — mifortunately one of many !
It was during this period of inactivity in Portland that I
witnessed my fuvst baseball game, the town team playing tliat
from Oakland and the former winning by seven ])oints to five.
I am afi'aid that, being igiiorant of the liner points of the game,
I could not a])pi'eciate it as much as did the spectators, who
became Avildly enthusiastic. I admired, however, the clean
fielding and the force the ])iteher ])ut into his thi'ows. One
incident rather marred the game in my eyes, and that was
when one of tire players attempted to strike the umpire, ])eing
dissatished by his decision. For this the player was turned off
the field, and most rightly so too ; but I gathered from the
little impression the incident seemed to make on the crowd
that it was by no means an unusual one.
After a week's inactivity I read an advertisement in one of
the newspapers for men required for strawberry picking at
Hood River. I interviewed the people in connection, and
arranged to go up there, after listening to eloquent accounts
of the money to be earned and of the easiness of the work.
Early the next morning, therefore, I caught a river boat —
going upstream this time — to Hood River. We passed on our
way some extremely pretty scenery, and soon we caught sight
of the beautiful snow-capped Mount Hood. The little steamer
had great difhculty in negotiating the ra]Mds in parts of the
river, and cautious navigation was most essential, as much of
the river-bed was strewn with boulders and rocks. But we
reached our destination at midday without incident.
Waiting for the steamer at the small landing-stage, in order
to return to Portland, was a small crowd of men and women,
most of whom had come u]) a few days previously on the same
54
TRAVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
errand as that wliich liad now brought mc up. They wei-c one
and all disgusted witli the whole affair. They told us (there
were other gulls as well as myself bound oil the same errand)
that there Avas not even a living wage to be earned and the
work was exceedingly trying.
Though somewhat disconeerted by this piece of news it did
not wony me much, as it was all fresh experience. I felt also
that the beautiful scenery around fully compensated me for
the small outlay in the shape of the two dollars for my passage.
The others were, however, not so easily consoled. Beautiful
scenery, unfortunately, won't feed a wife and six children.
On making inquiries I found that I had in front of me a good
two hours' walk in ordei- to reach the farm at which I had
arranged to work. Strong was the farmer's name, and there
apparently seemed to be about a dozen farmers of that name
in the neighbourhood ; anyway there were two and I, with m}^
usual luck, was directed to the wrong one, who, of course, lived
in exactly the opposite direction to where my man did. After
wandering miles about the country I eventually reached my
destination not far off sundown. I found quite a motley crowd
on the farm, of all ages and of all descriptions. It was not long-
before the evening meal was ready ; I did ample justice to it
after my wanderings in the country round. As it did not get
dark till about seven I was asked after tea whethc]' I would
start in right then. Though not feeling at all anxious to start
" grafting " at that hour of the day, still I thought it would be
more politic to do so. Accordingly I did. The job given me,
however, was only to pack the boxes filled with strawberries
into crates for transport to Portland by rail. I did this work
till dark, and, on learning the rate of pay for this class of work,
I calculated I had earned the huge sum of nine cents ! Then
I understood the reasons that little band of disgusted grumblers
had in i-cturning to Portland. After this job was ovei', I was
told to give a hand with another young fellow to Iiarness a
team (about which I knew precious little) ; and when the crates
were all packed into the cart off we started to the railway
55
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
station some five miles distant. It was a lovely night, though
rather cold ; but in company with the young American — a
kindred spirit — I fully enjoyed the drive
On our return I found that there was no room for me to sleep
in the farmhouse and, as all the outhouses were also full, I had
to select the roomiest cart I could find. This I filled with hay,
making it as comfortable as I could with the modest material
at my disposal. Wrapping myself up in my blanket it was not
very long before I was asleep. I did not have, however, a very
restful night, as it was very cold and the dew was extremely
heavy. At daybreak I left my " downy couch " and started
strawberry picking. My reader may possibly imagine, as did I
before I started, that this kind of work is not very arduous, or
in American parlance that it was a " snap." Quite the contrary,
let me assure him ! Stooping for hours on end picking the
berries, with limbs cramped, an exertion trying and yet
insufficient to bring out a perspiration under the scorching rays
of the sun, was arduous work. The monotony, too, was deadly !
Give me any time a longshoreman's work in preference to such
a job as that ! It was the worst job I struck in my six years
of wandering — ^save writing this book !
Having plodded on for two or three hours and having
reached the end of a row by which ran the main road, I decided
to have a stretch and a smoke. Whilst thus occupied, a man
who for some little while had been leaning over the rails lazily
watching my labours — a wise man ! — started conversing with
me. Glad to avail myself of any break in the monotony and
quite oblivious of the black looks of the farmei', who, however,
had " no kick coming," as we were all working on piece-work, I
made myself comfortable and chatted away merrily with my
gossiping companion. The subject of our yarning turned on
doings in Alaska, where my companion told me he had many
friends. He spoke so eloquently about this country that I then
and there registered a determination to visit that part of the
world before I left the shores of North America. What little
things decide oiu' ])ath in life !
56
TRAVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
I resumed work and continued till eleven o'clock, when the
sun began to be intolerably warm. I had by then picked thirty-
six boxes of berries, having on the Avhole worked, / considered,
like a Trojan. At the rate of one cent a box I had earned thirty-
six cents, which, with my nine cents on the preceding evening,
brought my total earnings to the sum of forty-five cents !
Many others like myself were pretty disgusted with this state
of affairs, especially as the cost of our board nearly equalled our
earnings. Having learnt that a neighbouring farmer was paying
a half-cent more per box, I suggested a strike. My motion was
adopted ; so we all proceeded en masse to demand this increase
in wage, threatening otherwise to quit in a bunch. Much to my
secret disgust our strike was successful and the price raised to
one and a half cents per box.
The young American, with whom I had become by now quite
friendly — -Abe by name (no one makes use of surnames out
West in this stratum of life ; most generally one is called " young
fellow " if one's first name is not known) — told me that his
brother had just come up from Portland and was working on
the next farm. As his brother had with him a tent he was going
to join him ; and he suggested that I came along too, I readily
agreed. Without informing our farmer of our intentions, and
leaving our wages in lieu of our board bill — a poor exchange ! —
we decamped during the day with our belongings. The neigh-
bouring farmer welcomed us two recruits heartily, for labour
was very scarce — a fact not much to be wondered at in view
of the poor pay, which though the farmers could not afford to
increase.
We pitched our tent and soon had made ourselves comfort-
able, the farmer's Avife sending us out some ice-cream. I am
afraid none of us treated our situation very seriously, regarding
the whole affair as a sort of picnic. We played cards and yarned
till late in the evening.
My two " pardners " were from St Louis, the elder, Emory,
having been till quite recently a manager of a large flour-mill in
that city, but through some disagreement he had thrown up
57
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
his billet and come West to look round. His younger brother
had spent most of Iris life on a farm and had also responded to
the call of the West.
We were all up by the sun and worked industriously till
eleven o'clock, without a break, in the full heat of the sun.
When knocking off, our earnings were about sixty cents each.
We were all feeling very " headachy " after the many hours in
the open ; so we point-blank refused to start work again till in
the cool of the afternoon. The farmer rather unwisely said too
much ; so all three of us, with ti'ue Western independence,
quitted our jobs. Having packed up our belongings we returned
to the town, there to indulge in ice-cream.
We had some time to wait before the steamer's arrival.
Fortunately, however, we were kept enlivened by a band of
picturesque cowboys who, mounted on fine young ponies,
were raising Cain all over the town. It was a glimpse of the
old days, now almost a thing of the past !
There were many others like ourselves i-eturning to Portland,
and a motley crowd of dirty gypsies we all looked. Shortly after
sunset the river boat put in an appearance and picked up its
load of grubby humanity. As none of us three was flush of
money we decided not to indulge in the luxury of a bed, finding
instead nooks about the boat in which to curl up. I was for-
tunate, as the night was cold, in finding a warm corner near
the engines ; with a piece of old sacking as my mattress, and my
blanket as iny pillow, I was able to get a, fairly good sleep. I
say " fairly," as eveiy now and then I would be disturbed by the
lurching of some fellow-passenger who had been trying to find
consolation fo)- his troubles in rye whisky. We i-eached Portland
at daybreak.
Our next step was to find some work of a different kind ; we
found it at the Albina docks resacking flour ! It appeared that
certain merchants in Shanghai had ordered a special class of
flour known by a certain brand. None of this flour at the moment
being available our employei's were despatching a cheaper
kind, but pouring it into properly branded sacks. Our work
5S
k
■jAll ^1 53 !H 55
;,„gll>»Hmi
wh, ( )i;i;( ,t '\
TRAVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
was to pour the contents of one fifty-pound sack into another,
the latter requiring a deal of dumping do\vn before it would
hold all the licnii-. It was not by any means thrilling woi-k and
was certainly very tiring. Emory gave it U]) after the iirst day ;
he had had enough, his knuckles being all torn by the rough
sacks. Abe and I stuck it out another day ; and then we quit.
We, too, had had enough, our hands being quite I'aw and toj-n.
1 fiu'ther juanaged to get one hand poisoned froin the green
paint on the sacks. We had each earned a little over three
dollars a day ; so wc were still in funds !
The only solitary advantage about our job was that we \vere
always able to obtain very comfortable seats in the tramcars on
oin- return in the evening to town. As we were covered f I'oni head
to foot with flour, well-dressed people coiuteously made way
for us. This was the only redeeming virtue the job had !
After three days of idleness, poking our noses into " dime "
shows, our hands giving us all excellent excuse, we decided to
go farming. We selected a i-ancli in Oregon State. A three hours'
train ride through very pretty country brought us to the place,
by name Broadmead, near where the ranch was situated. The
country through which we had passed was all well cultivated,
fruit farms being es])ccially noticeable. It was pouring when we
alighted from the train and commenced tiudging towards the
farm whei'c we hoped to get some employment. Having
covered a few sloppy miles wet reached the ranch and were all
hired forthwith — rathej- to oui- surprise. I did not say much as
to my qualifications as a fai-mer, or fai-m hand ; consequently,
as my companions were used to the work I was hired with them,
the foreman remarking that I looked willing. I could then look
most things ! P^ven wise !
That same day we started work. We were all set to the task
of sifting landplaster ; and again were completely whitened .
We had very decent quarters in the farmhouse — on the top
floor, the six other farm hands occupying the lower. Our wages
were one dollar twenty-five cents a day and "■ all found." The
food was excellent, similar to that in the lumber camps. We had
59
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
as much as we could eat, with milk and cream in abundance as
the ranch had six cows all of which were in milk, and the dairy
produce was all at our disposal. We had to be up at five in the
morning, before the sun had risen ; by six o'clock we were
working in the fields.
After our landplaster-sifting job was finished, we three were
sent into the neighbouring woods to cut timber. We went off to
work with axes and saws. It was chilly at that hour of the
morning and the woods were very wet, as it had been raining
fairly steadily for the last few days. After a ten minutes' trudge
we reached the spot where we were to work.
We took turns in felling the trees (the most popular work
amongst us) and then in shaping and sawing up the logs. Here
I had the opportunity of putting into practice what little I had
seen and learnt in the lumber camp from which I had been so
ignominiously '' fired." We knocked off work at eleven o'clock
for our midday meal, resuming work at one o'clock. Our labours
for the day ended at six in the evening.
Having had our tea we were all soon ready for ])cd. after ten
hours' hard work — more or less — in the forests. To be frank,
none of us overworked, as the foi'cman was a most accom-
modating fellow, never worrying himself to inspect the number
of cords of wood we cut per day. On piece-work I fear we
should not have made a fortune !
After three days of this work we were put to hoeing hops, or
at least to hoeing the weeds round the hops, though I fear at
times in the midst of some heated argument luany young and
innocent hops, as well as weeds, were cut off in their prime.
This work was not half so interesting as that which we had been
])reviously doing, and after a week of it the monotony Ijcgan to
make me rather restless.
Sundav was a veritable day of rest. The three of us spent the
morning swiirmiing in a creek wli.ieli ran through the ranch, the
wash doing us no harm. I further washed one of the two shirts
still in my possession. The afternoon and evening we spent in
yarning, reading and playing cards. Of reading matter we had
60
TRAVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
an inexhaustible supply, the bunkhouse being simply littered
with magazines of all dates and of all descriptions. " Pedro "
and " Blackjack " were the chief games of cards that we played,
chiefly the former, as the latter needs coin to make it interesting,
and that commodity was conspicuously absent.
After some days of hoeing hops I decided to seek a change.
The fact of an eruption of boils having broken out on my neck,
doubtless due to the bad water I had drunk in the last few
weeks, gave me a good excuse to return to Portland in order to
get treatment.
I bade good-bye to my two shortwhile partners, whom I have
never seen since. If by a remote chance these lines should meet
their eyes, they will read as well the writer's heartiest greetings.
It was near the end of June when I returned to Portland,
which was on the day of my arrival gaily decorated for the
annual Rose Fiesta. The festoons and garlands in the streets
looked very pretty, and the procession, with its charming Rose
Queen, was indeed a welcome sight after seven days of " 'oeing
'ops." The day of the festival was extremely hot — ninety
degrees in the shade — as I also knew to my discomfort, being
well -bandaged about the neck on my return from the hospital.
In a few days I was well again and decided to seek fresh
woods and pastures new. With this object in mind I went down
to the employment offices and examined all the boards, telhng
whe]'e labour was wanted. These agencies are a feature of the
Western coast. From them a stranger in the town can easily
learn where and what are the chances of getting a job. Not
being run by Government, they are efficient ; and, if there is
work going and the applicant can do it, there is not much time
lost befoi'c matters are fixed up. Having scanned most of the
boards, 1 never realised so forcibly what a really helpless indi-
vidual I was ; for there was nothing I could truthfully say I
could do. At last, a man standing in the doorway of one of tliese
offices seeing me reading one of the notices remarked: " Well,
young fellow, want a job ? I want a nice clean young 'un for a
janitor in a lumber camp." Yes, I thought rather bitterly to
6i
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
myself, that is about all my helpless Enghsli cdueation fits me
for. Certainly the most confirmed insular optimist cannot say
that our home education does much to equip young Englishmen
for the struggle for modern existence and for the battle of life
abroad. Though my so-called " intellectual attainments "
(including two imperfectly-learnt foreign languages) were
greater than those of the majority of the men with whom I had
u]) to then come in contact, I realised that they were in every
respect my su])eriors in that they could use an axe which I
could not ; in that all had some trade or line, however small and
humble, to follow whicli I like the thousands of others similarly
trained at home had not.
However, it ^^'as not to get a job this time tliat had taken
me (hnvn to these emjjloyment offices, but to make them pay
my ]'ail fai'c somewhere u]) north. This sounds as though these
agencies wei'c philaiithro])ic institutions, whicli is l)y no means
the case, as all AVesterners know. The idea, to which I had been
" put wise," was to select a job in the place wlici'c one wished to
go, or failing that as near to it as one could get. You then paid
the fee and received a railway ticket, giving as security your
" gri]) " or roll of blankets. This is the general procedui-e when
a man is genuinely wanting work. In my case, howevei', the
" gri]) " that I intended to place in the liands of the ein])loyment
agency was one to be Ijought for fifty cents at any Jew stoi'c.
On jcecipt of your tick(;t you left the " grij) "' as a secui'ity, and
incidentally as a legacy. In the case of tlie genuine seeker of
work, the baggage is luuided over to him on iiis ai'i'ival at his
destination when he has started work.
With this scheme in mind — not a very honest one, certainly,
])ut Necessity is a hard inistress — I selected a jol) of an ex})ert
saw-jnill liand iji a place called C'hehalis, which was as far noi'th
as I could get. I ])aid rny fee of one dollai' iifty cents and was
told to call next nKjrning for my railroad ticket.
ILiving made these ])i'e]jai'ations I bade fal'e^^'e]l to tlie few
friends 1 had made in Portland. I spent my lasl evening in the
company of some Japanese acquaintances, from whom, during
02
TRAVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
my periodical stays in the town, I had received innumerable
kindnesses. In passing, I would remark that it seems a pity that
Western Americans cannot discriminate a little better between
a Japanese gentleman and a Japanese coolie. The latter, I grant,
is by no means a w'elcome visitor. Americans, when visiting
Japan, are often eager to surfeit their Japanese hosts with
profuse protestations of undying friendship and good-will,
whereas when they themselves are hosts they certainly do not
live up to their words. A little more in deeds and a little less in
words would do much to convince the Japanese of the sincerity
of the good-will Americans have towards them.
On the following morning I called at the employment agency
for my ticket, but found to my dismay that the job I had
arranged to take had been since cancelled by wire. As there were
no other jobs in the direction I wished to go, I received the
refund of my small fee and left the oflice disgusted, feeling as
thougli I had been very badly treated. My " security grip " had
been a useless investment !
These well-laid plans having thus fallen through, I decided
to take a boat to Kalama on the Cohunbia, and from there to
take the ti-ain to Tacoma. But I determined not to pay fare
on the train and to adopt the usual method of the " hobo " —
namely, to "■ beat " the train {i.e. to i-idc v.ithout paying fare).
I reached Kalama at about six o'clock in the evening and
then went to the one small hotel in the town to get something
to eat. Whilst there I got into conversation Vv'itli two men, who
informed me in quite a matter-of-fact way that they were going
to " make " the night freight train to Tacoma. This excellent
opportrmity I seized. I i-emarked casually: "Why, so am I."
To my suggestion that Ave should join forces they I'cplied briefly :
"■ Sure, kid."
We sat by the stove yaniiug till nearh' midnight, when we
lieard the shrill cry of the do\vn mail from Tacoma, which
warned us it was time to get moving. One (^f my companions
told me that he had travelled right through the States, fiom
New York to T^'risco, without paying a red cent in fares,
03
A waxderp:r's trail
"beating" the trains where lie could and, when unable to do that,
" counting the ties " (tramping along the railroad track). It had
taken him over two months to do it. In America, particularly
in the West, there is a very large floating population of men, who
migrate from one state to another, never settling long in one
place. A man will spend a part of the year in a lumber camp,
perhaps the summer up in Klondyke, and will then spend his
earnings during two or three winter months in tlie " red lights "
of one of the big towns. When broke he will start all over again.
Year after year, so he goes on, till rheumatism from the camps,
or a bullet in a 'Frisco brawl rings down the curtain.
Leaving the hotel, we reached the freight cars and slipped
quietly along the rows of standing cars and trucks. I noticed
other skulking figures, from which I deduced that we were not
the only intending " passengers." I left my fellow-hobos to take
the initiative, following in their footsteps, doing as they did,
hiding when they did. They first tried the doors of the cars, but
found them all locked as they had expected, though one is some-
times lucky enough to find one unfastened. Stopping at one car,
one of my companions silently clambered up the side, taking
care whilst doing so not to be observed by any brakeman. On
]-eaching the top he disappeared for a moment and I heard the
sound of hushed voices in conversation. Presently he reappeared
and climljcd down with the brief remark: " Full ! " Meanwhile
the cars were all being shimted to and fro. the waving lights
of the brakemcn's lanterns appearing every now and then
indicating to us their wliercabouts. The brakeman is the
natural enemy of the "hobo," and there is mighty little love
lost between them.
I was beginning to get a little anxious as to whether our
efforts to bo[ird the tr;iin would be successful. My companions,
hoNvever, seemed not to v,orry in the least ; thry knew exactly
what was going on and wliat they were goiiv, to do. being
seasoned hands. At that })artieular moment I was standing
between two ears, just behind my companions who wci'C in the
shadow, when one of ilicni glancing r(;und suddenly noticed my
64
TRAVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
position. Quickly lie told me to move away and concluded by
saying : " Never stand 'tween cars, kid; you never know when
they won't be moved ! " I had barely shifted my position, and
the words were scarcely out of his mouth, before the very cars
between which I had been standing were suddenly jerked by the
engine and started moving. It was a narrow escape, and my
co>npanion looked at me with an amused what-did-I-tell-you
kind of expj'cssion on his face. Statistics record that ovcj' five
thousand hobos are killed yearly on the American railroads.
Most of the cars on the train were specially designed for fruit-
carrying, being fitted witli ice boxes at either end. We finally
found one car in the refrigei'ating box of which there was room
for all of us, only one other occupant being already there. The
breadth of this compartment, fore and aft, was about four feet ;
the width was that of tlie car. To say that we four men were a
tight fit in this nari'ow box is a mild way of putting it. However,
as it was pretty cold at that hour of the morning, it was not so
uncomfortable as it inight have been. Packed thus like sardines,
we Avaited for the train to start. We expected every moment to
get away, but the confounded train hung about till three in
the morning, when it started languidly to cover the distance to
Tacoma, rumbling through stations, stopping here and there.
^Ve had been on the mo\'e for about an hour when a brake-
man running along the tops of the cars peered into our hiding-
place. Seeing us he demanded in the choicest of language :
" What the • are you — — hobos doing in there ? " I was
the nearest to him. but I answered not a wojd. However, as he
repeated liis question in even more forcible language I meekly
replied : " We are going to Tacoma ! " It was rather an obvious
statement. He then asked us what money we possessed ; to this
wc all replied promptly and unanimously : "' None ! " One of my
com]-)anio]is furtlicr gently told him to go to hell. Apparently he
had no sense of humour, for he waxed wroth at this. He hurled
at us all sorts of abuse and tlireats if we didn't '" get." Rather
to mv surpj-ise both my two companions "' got " ! They both,
climbed out and left the ti'ain, only, however, to clamber into
K 05
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
another car under cover of darkness. Tlie other occupant and
I sat tight and remained riglit where we were. I then remarked
with true Russian diplomacy that I had a fifty-cent piece ; this
I gave the brakeman, and peace was made. He told us to stay
where we were (a rather unnecessary permission) and lie would
let us know when the train was nearing Tacoma, when we should
have to get off. My remaining fellow-ti'avcller was quite an
entertaining chap. He was an ex-Bi-itish naval sailor and also
an ex-American, having deserted from both navies ; at the
moment, he told mo, he was a barbei- !
About nine o'clock in the morning the brakeman passed over
the tops of the cars and shouted to us to clear out quickly as the
train had slowed down and was getting u]) speed again. I
clambered out, feeling very stiff and o-amped aftej' eight hours
in that little compartment. Indeed, it was with no little risk
that I ran over the top of the car, which ^vas rocking to and fi'o
as the train's speed was fast increasing. Reaching the end of the
car I quickly climbed down the side and, clioosing the I'ight
moment, jumped. ]My companion followed me and a few seconds
later jumped cleai'. But from that moment I missed him.
Just as I was picking myself off the gi'ound I ran up against
my two former companions and we all commenced trudging
towards Tacoma. We were in sad need of a wash. Our hands and
faces wci'c gi'imed and grubby, and three more disrc]:)utable
" hobos " it would have indeed been dilfieult to lind. However,
no one looks '" sideways " at you out West because you are
down on your luck, and it was not long before ^ve came on a
small sliack where we got a decent wash. Feeling cleaner, but
decidedly hungry, we were glad to reach the town and have
some l)reakfast.
Citizens of the I'ival Western towns call Tacoma " a dead
liole.'" '■ Sleepy Tacoma," etc. My stay was not long enough to
judge whether tlie city deserved that title or not ; the streets
certaiiily did not give one the same imj^rcssion of bustle as
the other towns hatl.
On visiting the docks the lirst man I met was m\- sailor-
66
TRAVEL IX TLIE WP^STERX STATES
companion of the previous night. He was seated on a wharf
truck gazing placidly out to sea, " looking for work " he calmly
remarked on seeing me. He seemed genuinely glad to meet me
again, for, as lie had lost sight of me the mojnent I jumped
from the train, he had got it into his head that I had been
sinashed up, particularly, he added, as he had seen something
white pass under the wheels as he left the fast-moving train
and remembered that I had a white scarf (i.e. a part of a
Hour sack) round my neck. After assuring him that I was still
alive and kicking, and remarking that I also had been wondering
where he had got to, I asked him whether there was anything
doing in the tow]i. lie said everything appeared to him to be
vei'y quiet, and as my impression was the same I decided to go
on to Seattle.
The following afternoon I caught one of the fast steamers for
Seattle and ai'rived there after a two houis' passage. It was a
pleasant trip, the scenery of the shores of Puget Sound being
very pretty.
On my arrival in Seattle I booked a room — a two-bedded one
— for twenty-fi\'e cents, as funds were getting low. The other
occupant, an old miner, was fast asleep when, after exploring
part of the town, I turned in.
Seattle looked a very prosperous toA\n. I say looked because
I could never find out — and I'm no wiser to-day — what really
supports Seattle, a city possessing palatial buildings and an
evci'-growing po])ulation. Certainly I recall the city engineer, in
the coui'se of a speech which he made during my stay there, re-
marking : " We have the two things essential for a great cit>' :
cheap l)read and good sanitary arrangements." But, with all
due re^|)eet to Setittle's distinguished engineei', I think some-
thing more than tliese ncce>sities would be essential to su})port
or found a great city. Coni])arative]\' speaking, Seattle possesses
but few industries of any size ; and the Alaskan trade (so often
cited as the support of Seattle), shared as it is with Vancouver
and San Francisco, would not support skyscrapers hke the
Ala^l^.a building in Washington Street for long. At any rate I
67
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
was quite unable to discover what it is that supports Seattle,
and gives it that air of prosperity. Every other person in Seattle
seemed to me to be a real estate agent. I wonder how much of
Seattle's real estate is really real !
I had in my possession a letter of introduction to some English
people who had been long i-esidcnt in this town, so I decided to
present it and get acquainted once again, if only for a short time,
witli refined surroundiiigs. The residential part of Seattle struck
me as bei]ig well laid out, with many pretty and commodious
houses. The Western type of residence is extremely artistic,
particularly so in California. From the high parts of Seattle,
which one reaches by means of cable cars (the grade of the hills
is too steep to permit of ordinaiy electric cai's), one can obtain
an extensive view of the surrounding countr\'. Beautiful Mount
Rainier (or Mount Tacoma, as the citizens of that town call it)
stands out promiricntly, snow-clad the whole year round, over-
looking the quiet calm waters of Puget Sound shaded by the
richly timbci'cd banks.
I presented my letter and was very cordially welcomed ; and
with true Western hospitality was invited to stay a few days. In
the company of the younger members of the family I saw much
of life that was pleasant in Seattle. We visited together many
of the " dime " shoAvs, which are quite a feature of the Western
coast, as also the theatres and ice-cream and candy stores.
The 4th of July — ■Independence Day — fell during my visit
here. Some few days before, when I had been in the company of
a party of Americans, I happened to ask what they generally did
on that date, as I had heard so much alsout it. " Why," one
icplicd jocularly, "that's the day we insult all you goddam
Eiiglislimcn ! " However, the chief feature was a great display
of fireworks. Tlie day itself I spent in tlie comjjany of my friends,
batliiiig and boatijig at a small place on the Sound. We were
most of us youjig people and you caimot beat a party of yovmg
American boys and girls for tliorouglily enjoying tliemselves.
There is not the same rigid segregation of sex out West as in
Kjigland, the result being that the girls are far more natural
68
Ml ir \ I l< \\ ii:k
-sa
M>.i \ I ll.M.Ii
TRAVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
and do not regard every young man they meet in the light of a
possible husband.
It was on the Madison ground in Seattle (after my return from
Alaska) that I witnessed my first game of American Rugby foot-
ball. Seattle High Sehool was playing Tacoma High Sehool, the
result being a win for the former by thirty-two points to nil.
Truthfully speaking, I can't say that I was very greatly
impressed by this style of football, of which I heard so much.
Compared with English Rugby, there being but little open
play, the game seemed too tight, and in consequence, from a
spectator's point of view, was rather uninteresting. The rules
appeared to be to some extent similar to those of English Rugby,
with the exception of the forward pass, which I was told had
been but lately inti'oduced. It appeared in my eyes to be a poor
innovation.
During the course of the game ten men were laid out, though
nobody was seriously hurt. The frequent stoppages in conse-
quence made the game rather tedious to watch ; for, if one
allowed three minutes per man injured, that meant at the very
least a waste of half-an-liour during the time of play.
If the game did not particularly appeal to me, the attendance
certainly did, the relative supporters of the rival teams ex-
pending in cheering and " rooting " nearly as much energy as
did the players on the field. I think also that I never saw so many
pretty girls as I did on the Madison ground the day of that
match. I fear gazing at some of them took jny eyes too frequently
off the game, so that my impressions above maybe at fault. I
made a special note in my diaiy to the effect that if Seattle
apparently produced nothing else it could at least boast some
charming girls.
I found work very scarce in Seattle and, as after a few days
nothing turned up, I decided to go up to Alaska. With this in
view I made many efforts to secure a job on one of the steamers
that periodically left Seattle for the north, but I found such
employment very difficult to obtain. After numerous visits to the
docks I was at last offered a job as a janitor on board the City
69
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
oj Seattle, whicli was due to sail tlic same evening for Alaska.
It was, of course, an undci'stood tiling that one signed for the
round trip, hut I had not the least intention to make the return
trip, or at any rate not yet awhile. ]\[y intention was to deseit
on ari'ival. Ha\'i]ig this in view I aecejrted my janitorship, the
duties of which eojisisted. I gathered, in doing all the dirty jobs
that were to be done about the slii]). The lit'st duty allotted
me was to start cleaning u]) the " gloi'y hole " (the stewards'
quai'ters), and to make up the bunks there. The first glimpse of
the place nearly took my breath away. Ijoots, clothes and boxes
lay on and under bunks in such confusion that it was with diffi-
culty I could move a ste]). I started on the bunk nearest the
door. With a few enei-gctic movements I made a clean sweep
of evei'vthing in it, thi'owing all the motley cojitcnts on to the
ground. This, instead of eleai'ing the way. only seemed to in-
tensify the cliaos that surrounded me. Tlien I confess my heart
failed me. After a pi'olonged and melanclioly gaze at my untidy
sin-roundings I slowly put on my coat and with a meditative
but watchful air went on deck again. Without even saying good-
bye to the chief steward I skip])ed down the gangway and shook
the dust of the Citij oj Seattle irom off my shoes, and incidentally
from off my clothes also.
I wonder if my reader can imagine the choice language of
the ii'ate owiier when he gazed on his wardrobe and precious
belongings all lying in one confused heap on the ground ; or the
scathing comments of the chief steward on his missing janitor.
I can !
]Mv arrangements to get up north fi'om Sc\'ittle not seeming to
get '' nnieh forrarder," I decided to go U]) to X'ancouver. where
I learnt thei'C were often 0])po!tunities to leaeh Alaska by taking
U]) cattle, which, in my sanguineness of spiiit. seemed to me a
job I could easily tackle. I was not. howevci'. keen on any more
janitoi" jobs.
IIa\'ing tlnis made up my mind I caught the little steamer
llainona on the evening o! the l.^th .fuly. IxjuihI for British
C'oiiimbia. The fare was only two dollars, this, of course, not
70
TT^AVEL IN THE WESTERN STATES
iiiduding a hod, of wliicli luxury my state of funds, now alaiin-
in^ly siuall, would not jicriuit.
1 bade my ehavmijio' fricjids ifood-l)y(' and, witli a last look
at the twijikling lio-hts of Seattle fading away in the distance,
I said for a time farewell to the hospitable shores of America.
71
CHAPTER V
SOME EXPERIENCES IX CANADA
EARLY on the following moi'ning, after a twelve hours'
sea passage, I first put my foot on Canadian soil. The
town of Vancouver, in comparison ^vith Seattle and
other Western cities, appeared small and insignificant. It dis-
appointed me greatly, particularly after hearing so often from
the various Canadians I had met in the States that Vancouver
was a wonderful place. I have generally found it to be the ease
that tlie smaller the dorp the louder do the citizens talk of its
size and prosperity.
Vancouver is the smallest of the large Western cities. The
go-ahead atmosphere of the American towns seemed to me to be
more or less absent up here, and instead a mixtuie of American,
Canadian and English ideas, which appeared in some way not to
harmonise one with the other. Considering its age, ^'ancouver
is a thriving city and one with an undoubted future before it.
The opening of the Panama Canal should very considerably
increase the volume of tlie trade. To-day, it must be remem-
bered, Vancouver is the terminus of several large continental
I'ailroads and a seaport of growing importance. I ^^•ould. however,
like some of the Vancouver ''boosters " to walk tliiough the
streets of Joliannesburg once bcfoi'c they eommenee enlarging
on the marvellous growth of their town in such a shoit
period.
It was in Vancouver that I first came into contact Avith that
despicable object — the remittance-man. The bulk of tlie -.pecies
I jan across were human dei'cliets, moi-al if not physical
Avi'ooks : in most cases living monuments to a father's igno'-anee
or a mother's folly I One of the greatest misiakcs })arents can
72
SOME EXPEinFACKS IN CANADA
make, when sending their sons to Canada to become citizens
of that great Dominion, is to give them a monthly allowance.
With but few exceptions the inevitable result is the complete
moral, if not physical, ruin of the boy.
On making inquiries as to what opportunities there were to
get up to Alaska I found that, for the next ten days at least,
there were no boats leaving for the northland ; but I learnt that
there was a probability of a cattle boat leaving shortly after-
Avards. As my stock of dollars was now in its " teens," the
necessity to get some work was urgent.
The day after my arrival in the town I got a job — the only
one I could. It was laying cement "side-walks " in one of the
main streets of the city. My work was to shovel cement and
gravel and wheel it in barrows along a narrow plank to the
desired spot. Some of the terrifying moments I had when the
barrow was within an ace of the edge of that plank, not a foot
wide, baffle description. It was extremely hard work and the pay
was poor, only twenty-seven and a half cents an hour ! In fact,
my fellow-labourers told me that it was the toughest work going
in the town at the moment ; and to the truth of that statement
— at noon of the first (and last!) day — I could fully testify.
To shovel for hours on end with a long-handled shovel a
mixture of cement, gravel and water, and then to wheel it
in a barrow over the narrow plank, uphi Unwell, it was as
hard a job as any I had yet tackled on the coast. I struck
work after one day ; I confess it was too much for my not
over-Herculean frame. Even lithe-limbed Danes fought shy
of that job !
Whilst strolling down Granville Street the following day
pondering over what I should do, the idea of getting a job in a
cigar store suddenly occurred to me. Not letting the idea die at
its birth, I went into the first cigar store I came across. On
inquiring for work I was naturally asked whether I knew the
business. I replied diplomatically: "Well, I'm more used to
cigar stores on the American side." This slightly ambiguous
ansvrer seemed effectual. Unfortunately, however, there was no
A WAXDERER'S TRAIL
vacancy ; l)ut I ^vas told to " call a,L>'ai]i ! " ' Alter trying quite a
number of stoi'cs in tlie town I was becoming rather dislieai'tened
as no success met my eff'oiis. At last I struck oil, thougli I
must say not i]i vei'y ]>ayi]ig quantities I The cigar store I came
to was oi!(^ \vhicli was being iim In eoiijnnetio]i witli a real
estate biisijiess ((>\('i'y otiier man is a real estate broker in
the West) : this liUsincss occupied one side of the stoi'c and the
tobacconist's the other. ] lenrivt li'ojn the owjier, \\-ho did not
seem very prospci-ous. that the cigar stoie would not support
an assistant : business in genei'al. ])arlieulaily real estate, he
said, was very duU. He a]i])eared. howe\'er, nudecided ; so I
placed l)efoi'e him such an eloqueirt pi'Os])eet oi' the immediate
large inei'case in his real estate busi]iess tlial would inevitably
result if he eiujiloyed wic to look ai'tc!" his eiga= store that I got
myself engaged forthwith. I I'cally believe that 1 bullied the poor
man into giving me the job ! Unfortunately the })est pay I
could extract fiom him A\as a dollar per day. which, to say the
least oj' it, was not a \(tv handsome wage — even for Vancouver.
Still it kept me going till I could fix u]:* a ])oat foi- Alaska. I
ai'ranged to I'lm the cigar store from two in the afternoon till
ten at night — closing time.
^ly occupation then for the next few days allowed me to spend
the morning at PiUglish Bay — a most (k-lightful I'csort just out-
side the town. A cai' ride down Roljsoii Street — scene of my
heroic efforts witli shovel and l)arr()^\• — lined ^vitii ])ictin'esque
dwellings with shingled loofs and wide open poi'ches. brought
me to the bay, whe-e e\'ery morning many came to l)athe and
swim. Aftei' my luneli I would tui'U u]) at the cigar ^{ovc and
'■ I'un "' it. Tliis consisted cliirily in. silting behind the counter,
reading and sinolviiig the stoclv. as customer-, wci'e cons[)ieuous
b\' theii' al)sence : in fact I ^\as the best one.
-My lii'st day's takings were under five dollars ; and this figure
I found was abr)ut the average, with the exce])tion of Saturday —
' .\ j)hra-;(' v<-r\ ')Ht'n in the moutlis di ilic inhaliitraUs df the roast.
Wh.'ii a hel\- is pa\ai!.; an riltenin'.ai ea!l uii iier tu'i';l!l):jur the latter,
vsiicu siH'i.'ihii;', iirr jMrtiitL; Latent inxariably reuiaiks ; " Call again I
74
SOME EXPEPJTEXCES TN CANADA
when sales amounted to about ten dollars. Twenty-five dollars
would, I belie\'e, have bought the sho]), though it was lined to
the roof with aji imposing ari'ay of empty boxes, which at fiist
ill my blissful ignoranee I imagined to be full of tobaeco.
(living wrojig change, shaking the dice and yarning with
customers helped to pass the time away when I was not readiiig.
It was in Amci'ican parlance " a snap." I can recall veiy well
the first occasion on which I shook the dice with a customer. I
was busily engaged in reading " The Count of Monte Cristo,"
when a " hard-looking case " walked into the store with tliese
words : " Say. kid. do you shake the dice ? I w'ant some cigars."
Now, I had seen the dice box under the countei-, but not up till
then had I manipulated it ; and I was just wondering whether
it would be wiser to confess my ignoi'anec oi' to bluff. I decided,
on looking at my customer, on the former. So I replied : " Sui'c,
though I'm not very wise about it." 3Iy customer told me not to
worry about that ; " I'll soon put you wise, young fellow."
He did ; and I won every time, till he quit in disgust with the
I'cmark : " You golldarned tenderfoots have the luck of the
devil." Another incident I recall very well. A customer had
purchased seventy-five cents' worth of cigars and had tendered
a five-dollar bill in pa;ymient. Now, in the Western towns of
America one never sees the colour of a note from one month to
another ; all cun'eiicy is gold or silvei'. In the East the case is
exactly the opposite. In Vancouver, howevei', bills ai'c not iin-
frcquently seen, and this occasion was when I first caught sight
of a '■ greenback." For a time I was scared to change it, feai-ing
it might be a wi'oiig 'un. Howevei', as my customer had no small
cliange, I had to. I carefully counted out tire change and handed
it over. About ten minutes later it dawned on mc that I had not
deducted the cost of the cigars as. in my mental perturbation,
I had handed over the entire five dollars in silver.
^Vfter a week or so in this " res])onsib]e " position, I secured
a job to take up cattle to Alaska. On ap])]ying for it I was asked
as usual whether I knew anything about the work. Ivnployers
nowadays seem far too inquisitive. To this iiupcitinent qiies-
75
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
tioii I replied diplomatically : " Not very much ; but I know
a great deal about sheep." Observing quite a large number of
those harmless-looking animals in the pens, I felt quite safe
in saying that ; though I must confess I didn't half like the
look of the big-homed steers in the corrals. Howevei-, I felt I
had to live and learn. Of the latter I felt confident, though
somewhat doubtful of the former. Those hoi'ns looked so sharp
and long.
Whatever the cattle boss may have thouglit he anyway kept
to himself and hired me. I returned to my store and informed
my old real estate friend that I was leaviiig the Jicxt day for
Alaska ^^'ith a bunch of cattle. The old chap shook his head
dismally when he heard of my intention and Avarned me that in
two or three months the Klondyke winter would set in. He
also told me tales of the dire distress that I might experience.
Not being any too confident myself as to the wisdom of my
intention, this old croaker's words rather confii-med my fear
that I was taking big chances, which, indeed, was the case to a
greater extent than I was aware. However, I bluntly said I was
going and that everything was settled.
Early the follo^ving morning I was down at the docks and
helped to feed the cattle — from the outside of the pens fortun-
ately ; for I had been rather fearing that it might be expected
of me to enter the corrals and distribute the foddei- amongst the
steers. Luckily I was spared that oi-deal. otherwise I i-ather
doubt whether these lines would ever liave been ])enned. I was
further very pleased to note that the boss kept just as discreet
a distance from the horns of the cattle as I did.
Three other young fellows were also hired to go up with the
cattle ; one was an Englishman, another a Scotsman, and the
third a full-blown Cockney who said he was Irisli. Tlic '" Irish-
man's " horrible twang made the most profane and slangy
American sound like music in my ears. We cliristeiied him
" Irish " then and there, and ])y tluit nickname he was always
known. He told me a little time afterwards, in confidence, that
he was an ex-potman from East Ham. The Scot (he was always
76
SOME EXPERIENCES IN CANADA
known as " Scotty ") and the young Englishman, Ted, were
both well educated ; and, as neither was a remittance-man, they
were in consequence two real good fellows, the rough life out
West having made men of both of them. We were as dissimilar
as possible so we got on splendidly together.
From seven in the evening till midnight we were kept busy
driving the cattle, sheep and pigs on board the steamer. The
sheep and pigs were all put into the lower holds with some
of the cattle, though the greater part of the latter were stowed
on deck in the for'd and aft' well-decks, divided off in roughly
constructed wooden pens. The steamer on which we were
sailing was a fairly large cargo boat of seventeen hundred
tons — the s.s. Ilalvard — ^which, with her sister ship, the
Haldis — made regular trips to Alaska during the open season.
I came across both these boats in China some years afterwards.
The drove of pigs we had to drive to the docks from a yard
some distance away, through the streets of the town. On our
way one wilful pig went off on his own account, and, though we
searched high and low for him for a good hour and more, he
beat us. He remained at large and may to this day, for all I
know, be roaming the streets of Vancouver. We had great
difficulty in getting the others all down to the docks in safety,
as many of them seemed not a little anxious to follow the
example of their erring brother. I learnt quite a lot about pigs
in that one hour. Whilst thus occupied I was imagining what
would have been said of one doing such work as this — driving
pigs — through, say, the streets of some select suburb of London.
I could picture the uplifted noses and stony glare of one's
aristocratic relations and acquaintances. One would be im-
mediately ranked in the Legion of the Lost.
After the work of loading the live-stock and the fodder was
completed, some large pieces of mining and dredging machinery
were put on board ; great quantities were then being sent up
yearly for use in the Klondyke and Tanana gold districts.
Nearly all the machinery was of American manufacture. The
cattle and the other live-stock were British. The greater part
77
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
of the cattle eanie Iroin Calgai-y, being ]-ailed from tliere to
Vancouver. In the early days of the Klondyke the only supply
of meat obtaina])le by those up in the ]iorthland was that sent
u]) by tlie cold-storage companies. In I'ecent years, Iiowevci',
live-stock is i-egulai'ly sent up to Dawson City from Canada
and the States, and there slaughtered. C'old-stoi'age meat finds
pi'aetically no demand in Alaska to-day.
We mannged ])iioi- to sailing to snatch a little sleep lying on
bales of e()ni])i-essed hay. in spite of the hubbub of loading cargo
and the noise of the cattle moving, so far as their cramped
quartei's A\()nid ]jcrmit them. We had altogethei' one hundied
and thill \' steers, three hundi-ed and fifty sheep and fifty i)igs
on l)oard.
^Ve got under way just bcfoi'c daybreak and steamed
through the Gulf of Cieorgia, between the Isle of \^ancouver and
the maJnland. ^Vhen the sun I'ose the shoi'cs of British C'ohnnbia
looked vei'y pictui'Cscpic ; in the light of its early I'ays the deep
green of the countiy. covered with luxuriant timbc!'. ])resented
a vei'v lovely scene.
Aftei' breakfast we stai'ted feeding and v,-atering the live-
stock. ^Vitl! the pigs and sheep this was easily done : l)ut not so
^vith the cattle, as the steamer liad none of the ordinai'v facil-
ities of slii])s in the cattk--cari'ying trade. The- bales of hay wei'c
all lying in the lower hold, so each bale had to ])e hauled u]) by
hand, and this was by no means a light task on account of their
weight. >Vhcu suilicient fodder had been hauled up. we stai'ted
disti'ibuting it amongst the cattle in their ])ens. In the open pens
this was not diliicult. but in the ])ai't of the "tween decks where
some of the cattle wc-i'e stowed it was a more irksome and
dangei-ous task, as it neee-^sitated one of us going into the pen,
r(cei\-iiig (he fodder From those outside: and distributing it
amongst the cattle \\"ithiii. ^Vhilst engaged in this work one
needed to kec']) a \\'ai\\' eye on the mo\'ement-^ of tlie steers to
a\oid getting jammed or hoi'iied by any of them. \Ve all took
tui'iis at this rather risky jol).
When the feeding was finished, ^ve started \\atering the
78
SOME EXPEIUKXCES IX CAXADA
cattle. This we had to do in a most j)i'imitivc niainier, lor \vc
had only wooden troughs available for the ])iir])ose. They wer(;
lour feet by one foot, with a rope attached at either end, l)y
which means we lowered the trough into the ])en. When the
trough was in the pen we turned the hose on and hlled it.
13ut few really got a proper drink, owing to the little space in
which the cattle had to move ; for one to turn was almost an
impossible task. Further, we could only water them from one
side, as the o})positc side was the shiji's bulwarks. Their move-
ments, too, often tm-ned over the trough ; and it was quite
a lengthy performance before all of the animals were watered.
\Vc were compelled also to make pretty free use of our sticks to
turn the animals round, as b\' some streak of contrariness they
all seemed to prefer facing the sea, the side from which w"e could
not water tliem.
After the watering of tlie cattle the iroii decks of the steamer
became very slippei-y, and the poor animals had a very rough
time. Fortunately, the rolling of the ship was not very great
as we wei'c steaming thi'ough sheltered waters, but what there
was added to their discomfort. In more than one instance we had
to get inside the pens to force some animal on to its feet again
after it had slipped down and was in danger of being trampled
to death under the feet of the other oxen. We had, I fear, only
too frequently to use our heavy sticks before the day's woi'k
was finished. Handling cattle is hardly a woman's woi-k !
Late in the afteiiioon we anchored at the entrance of the
Seymour Xarrows to wait for the tide. It was then iji the cool
of the da}', and we four cattle-boys, having finished our work
save for an occasional tour of inspection, were seated on the
fioo]) smoking and chatting. The steamc]- lay within a stone's-
tlu'ou' From the shore and we had a perfect view of the beautiful
wooded hills that lay so close. The sea Wiis quite smooth and
calm ; nothing distm'bed its sui-face save the occasional plunge
of a silver-backed salmon out of the shining waters.
After dark we weighed anchor and steamed through the
Narrows, Wc all turned in early the first night as we had not
79
A AVAXDERER'S TRAIL
had much rest the preceding night. I say turned in ; but we had
nothing to turn in to, as our l^eds consisted only of the bales
of hay that were in the hold. On these we lay, wrapped in our
blankets, and endeavoured to get as warm as we could. The
farther iiorth we got naturally the colder the nights became,
and the nights on the Pacific Coast even during the summer
always strike fairly chilly. The dew, too, is very heavy.
The following morning was foggy and we were compelled to
anchor for some hours, as off these coasts careful navigation is
essential. Shortly after noon the fog lifted and we resumed our
voyage. We steamed through Queen Charlotte Sound and when
outside we felt the swell of the Pacific Ocean which caused a
certain amount of motion to the ship, the live-stock in conse-
quence suffering badly as they were unable to keep their feet
on the slippery decks.
After crossing the sound we ran again into sheltei'cd waters,
between the mainland and the countless islands that lie off the
coast. The scenery here was truly magnificent ! Picturesque
islets, thickly wooded to the water's edge, lay on one side, whilst
on the other stretched the shores of the mainland, green and
luxuriously timbered, in the background of which loomed the
towering mountains Avith their snow-capped peaks shining white
in the sun's rays. The fore^^t-clad slopes of the shores seemed to
be almost witliin arm's reach. And what a wealth of resources
lay there ! Timber in abundance. Forests of fir. pine and beech
reared their noble heads over the clear waters at their feet.
Plentiful also were the salmon that leapt in countless numbers
out of the sliining seas. And mineral wealth untold lay near
those towering peaks — silent sentinels of treasure.
Our first stop was at tlie small port of Kutehikan, the port
of entry for Alaska, where- all the custom-house requirements
of th(' United States Coxernment have to be fulfilled. Steaming
nortli and skiitiiig the slujres of the mainland, some even more
impressive and magiiilieent scenery revealed itself. Beryl-blue
glaciers, lodged between mountains covered with eternal snows,
gleamed over Liie forests lliaL stretched away to the coasts.
80
A; \-K \. \ ' ' ''"x I l,^• . ii :Mi i;i;--;\ I-; w i i I 'M; \ i.~- \\ ;
\ ■ i; w I 'i;i" I.
SOME EXPERIENCES IN CANADA
Round us lay countless wooded islands ; over us towered ranges
of snowy hills overshadowing pine-clad slopes through which
beautiful cascades leapt into the sea. Switzerland was out-
rivalled !
Two days after leaving Ketchikan we steamed through the
quiet waters of the Lynn Canal, at the head of which lay Skagway
— our destination. We berthed alongside the wharf in the after-
noon of the fifth day out, near by the little river of Skagway
which leads up to the once-dreaded White Pass — ^the gateway of
the Yukon.
We had been fortunate in not losing on the voyage any of the
stock, for loss occurs f]-equently on steamers where no provision
is made for the cattle.
I had now to decide whether I would accompany the cattle
up the Yukon to Klondyke, or seek my fortune in South
Alaska.
Si
CHAPTER VI
IX ALASKA
OX ari'ivn] in Alaska I found myself with choice of three
moves. I could go on with the cattle u]) to Dawson
City, remain in or I'ound Skagway, or return to Canada
])y the Ilalvard as a sailor before the mast. I abandoned the idea
of accompanying the cattle into Klojidyke on account of the
vci'y pessimistic talcs I lieard on all sides of the scarcity of work
and the bad state of affairs in general prevailing in the Yukon
and the Tanana districts. As there seemed also nothing doing
in Skagway itself, my thoughts were reluctajitly dii'ceted toA\-ards
]'etui'ning to Canada — a coui'se I ^\•as unwilli]ig to adojjt. 'fhen
Fate in a rathei' ])eculiar manner decided for me. Sullicient ioj'
me to say now — I did ]iot sail ])y the Ilalvard.
^Vhen the cattle wove all off-loaded and my work finished I
took a sti'oll through the little town of Skagway. which mei'cly
consisted of a collection of wooden shacks scaitcicd al)()n1 the
foot of the mountains. 'I'here A\as one main sfi'cc-t lined \\\\\] stores
and sho])N. In a steanishi]) panrphk't I had read thai the to^\■n of
Skagway ])Ossesse(l U])-to-dafe stoi'es and man}' neat hon^cs \s-ith
])retty gardens ; further men1 ion was ako made in this ])ani])]ilet
of the fact that there Avas much in Skagway jind lis \-ieimt\' to
atti'aet the tourist. As ix'ga.rds the u])-io-(h!te stoixs and neat
houses I must say that the few I saw wnc e(.)nspicuously rare;
and I could nof name aiix'thing tha( siiuck me as offei-ing a]i\'
greaf atfraelions (o Die iomisl. unless il were ilic mmihers of
cnrpf \' haelss ihal Sl-.a-'Way jx.s-.es-c.l n llc^ oF her p;(s( gweaf-
ncs , ! Ska;i,u;(\ iii il,.- da •, . oj ":»; .atid "lis hou rd it-: ii\( or -.ix
Ihousajid. whereas lo-day il docs jiot hold as many hundreds.
It was iji the raelvtraJn Saloon — the one and only saloon in
IN ALASKA
the town and the scene of many an orgy and brawl — that I met
the man who decided for me my course of action and who became
my companion, or " pardner," dm-ing most of my stay in the
northland.
At first sight we had many points in common. We were both
young, we were both out of jobs, and we were both almost broke
■ — the latter being an ever-common bond between us. He told
me that he had just come down from Dawson, where he had been
working for inost of the time as a dish-washer in a restaurant.
He had also been the secretary of the labour union up there, for
he was a very well-educated fellow, and an ardent socialist to
Ijoot. I think two years of dish- washing in Klondyke, with
for many months a tempci-atiu'e of 70° " below," would be
sufficient to make aiiyoiie a socialist. It spoke highly, I thiiik,
foi' my pai'tncr's strength of mind that he was not an anarchist.
A fc^v days previously he had come into Skagway from a small
])Iacc called Robinson, which lay midway between the town and
Whitehoi-.sc. In this place he had spent a few weeks after leaving
tlie Klondyke, and whilst there had located a copper claim in one
of the hills just outside the settlement. He had been, however,
done out of tlie claim through some technicality, and it was
I'cckoned to be wortli fully twcjity thousand dollars. The claim,
in one sense, was ]iot really liis : '' located " was hai'dly the word
I should have used. To endeavour to ex})Iain to my readei" the
exact position of the whole afl'aii' would take me too long, but
briefly to sum up the position it was this : ^My ])artner had
'■ juiu})C(l " a claim from a woman, who in tui-n had " jumped "
it I'l'om h.er ])artnci', wlio was in Xcw York. The woman, in-
cidentally, ran a gin sho]) without a licence and she further owed
five hundred dollars to the brothei' of the Ofticial llecordei' at
R()l>inson. The I'eader may suggest that he is none the wiser now,
and may ask v,h;it on earth these lattei' facts have to do with the
ease. ]>ul tlieie is a sinqjle explanation. The wliole question was
one o] my paitner's word against that of the ^\'oman (hei' partner
in Xew York was not in the act at all — he was hnished !), and
the decision rested with the llecordei' at Robinson. Now, the
83
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Recorder kiiew full well that if he gave the decision in favour of
my partner his brother would never get back his five hundred
dollars, whereas, if he decided in the woman's favour, there was
still a sporting chance. Hence his verdict ! The legal question
was all one of time — which of the two had re-located the claim
first after it lapsed ? According to my partner the woman
perjured herself till further oi'ders. There was one strong point
against her, and that was in my partner's words : "We can get
her run out of the country for selling liquor without a licence ! "
My companion had been up till then too dispirited to take any
further steps, but my youthful and sanguine temperament in-
stilled into him fresh hope and energy. Then and there in tlie
saloon we joined forces ; pooled our capital — I had eleven dollars,
my partner two — and after a lengthy confab decided to " count
the ties " over the trail to Robinson, as there were still remaining
twelve days out of the period of thirty allowed to lodge our
protest. ;My companion, I might incidentally I'cmai'k, was a
glutton for coffee ; how many cups of coffee he drank during
our consultations I would not like to say.
The following morning we purchased food for three days, and
other necessary articles including a gun.^ But little remained
of our small capital when he had completed our purchases, and
the prospects for the success of our venture were hardly of the
brightest. Lack of the '" ready " was our stumbling-block ; if we
had had a couple of hundred dollars, half of which to place in
the haiids of a smart and possibly not over-scrupulous lawyer,
we should have, I really believe to this vei'v day, recovered that
mining claim. We started out over the trail late in the after-
Jioon keeping to the course of the railway tlu'ough Skagway
Valley, and once out of sight of the little town we began the
steady climb over the rugged mountains. The trail led along the
])reeipitous sides of the mountains that overlooked the foaming
Skagway Rivei-. Toiis of rock had had to be blasted out to mala:
\vay for the railway — a railway which was, indeed, a triumph for
Britisli engineering skill and perseverance.
' I.e. rc\ulver — all such are Lermcd " guns " m the \\'est.
64
IN ALASKA
After walking steadily for a couple of hours with our packs on
our backs we left the trail along the railroad and descended to
the old one which had been trodden by few since the early days.
Beside the trail, here and there, we passed by little heaps of
stones — the graves of some who fell by the wayside in that mad
rush to Klondyke when pioneers dragged their bleeding feet
up the icy stairways of the White Pass ! As I gazed up at the
peaks above me I thought on the tragedies those silent moun-
tains of eternal snows must have witnessed, the sights they must
have beheld ! ]Men dying with their packs on their backs, frozen
to death, heedlessly passed by — heroes fighting epic battles
with the elements ; men quarrelling like wolves, their very vitals
seared by the icy cold; men swept away in scores, like chaff
before the wind, by the resistless force of the snowy avalanche.^
Never did sentinels guard more faithfully Nature's treasure-
troves than did the precipitous White Pass and the rock-scarred
Chileoot, throttling the hopes and lives of so many who sought
to enter the Valley of the Yukon. Nature's wisdom was indeed
never more manifest than here in the stern White Pass truly
named- — the Gateway of the Yukon. None but those who could
pay the toll — the fitness and the strength to battle with the
privations of life in the frozen north— were allowed to enter ;
the faint-hearted and the weak were stopped and turned back
on the threshold. Thus was prevented a great tragedy — ^the
tragedy of the Yukon becoming a graveyard of thousands slain
by the hand of the Arctic winter. And the magnet? Gold! Gold,
against which all acid is powerless, is surely itself an acid more
powerful than any known to our scientists. It dissolved in those
prosperous days of '97 the bonds of honour and friendship as
effectively as the rays of the morning sun swept the mist in the
Skagway Valley. So intense became the hatred, where before had
been love, that it was no unusual occurrence for a division of all
goods in common to take place on the mountain-sides, the one
canoe even being severed in two to prevent one obtaining any
1 A party of pioneers were, nearly to a man, swept to their deatli by a
sudden avalanche of Chileoot Pass in the winter of '97:
^5
A WAXDERET^'S TRAIL
advantage over the other. The last scene in that drama is not
hard to imagine— two unburied bodies, whose last thoughts
were only of hatred and murder.
We camped for the night at a " half-way house " almost in
ruins — a relic of the pioncci- days. It was fairly cold, and after
our long weary trudge packing our traps over the rocky trail we
were not sorry to rest. Scrajjing together sonrc wood, including
the fragments of an old chair, we soon had a good hre going.
Hot ])ork and beans with some coffee warmed oui- chilled bodies,
and we sat late into the night yarning and smoking. Thci'c still
remained in the old log-cabi]i the wooden makeshift of a couch,
on ^vhich we cuiled ourselves up in our blankets and both were
soon asleep.
The following morning my companion foimd to his dismay
that he could barely ])ut his foot to the ground owing to the
I'cturn of an old sprain due to the exertions of the ])revious day.
As he was una])]e to ]3rocecd without much paiii wo decided to
wait there one day and go on the day following. I occupied my
time whilst my companion rested in following the course of a
creek that ran through the mountains, ever hoping against
hope that I might discover gold. When a man is in such pjirts as
these — 'way off the licaten track and in a known gold region — ■
he seems to be obsessed with but one idea — to find gold. To find
gold he feels as though he would sell his soul, honoiu', and e\'en
his chances in the next world.
" There's .trold ai:d its haunting and haunting ;
It's hiring mc on as of old ;
Vet it isn't the gold that I'm wantini^,
So much as just finding the gold." '
Every now and then some glittering stone or piece of quartz
in the: running creek would I'aise my ho])es. only, however, on
closer examination to be dashed. Gold never glitters ! The usual
pros])ector\s test for gold is when the dull yellow substance in the
quartz has the same appearance and colour from whatever angle
^ " Songs of a Sourdough " ^K. Service^.
86
IX ALASKA
he looks at it. Between virgin gold and the wedding ring, between
the uncut diamond and the stone in the engagement ring —
there is a vast diffei'ence ! After a long and tiring day, tramping
over rocky boulders and wading through sti'eams, I directed my
footsteps towards the camp ; and not till then did I notice how
tired I was, so absorbed had I been in my search.
I found my companion seated beside a roaring fire, I'cading
some ancient magazines wliich he had rummaged out of the
debris and rubbish accumulated. After a good meal we sat by
the fire and gazed in silence up at the gloomy mountains which
sui-rounded and oveilooked us. It was all very quiet and still
save for the distant sound of a mountain stream pouring its
waters into its rocky bed, the faint cry of a night-bi]d, and the
gentle swish of the breeze tlu'ough the timber close by.
The next day my partner's leg was but little bettei-, and, as
our sup]:)ly of food would not permit us to go on by easy stages
ovei' the ti'ail to Robinson, there remained no other alternative
but that of returning to Skagway and abandoning once and for
all our enterprise. It was rather hard luck — a case of so near and
yet so far !
In passing I would i^emark that this attempt was my nearest
to making a fortune. All the foi'tunes seem to have been made
before my arrival in the various countries I have visited ; at
least, judging by the fact that I am to-day still as poor as a
church mouse and by the thrilling tales that I was regaled
with in so many places of the fortunes made in " the good old
days."
The next day saw two dispirited and weary-looking objects
trudging in silence aloiig the trail in the direction of Skagway.
They talked l^ut little, but gathered every now and then some
of the wild raspberries that grew in pi'ofusion on the mountain
slo])cs. The contrast between the warm summer in Alaska and
the rigorous cold of the winter is very great. The summer is as
warm as iu Oregon, flowci's bloom and vegetables grow in ]jlenty.
In the Avinter, on the other harid, the land sleeps under its cloak
of snow and ice against wliich nothing can prevail ; the glass
«7
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
sinks to 70° " below " and tlie land is all but wrapped in
living darkness.
We readied Skagway late in the evening. Our position was not
exactly cheering. We had three dollars between us, and, when
we had left, the prospect of getting work was not vei'y bright.
However, Fate was good to us ; two men got druiik that night !
That meant that on the morrow two vacancies in the gangs
working on the wharf ^vere filled by my partner and myself.
Our work consisted of trucking freight from the sheds and
loading it in the railroad cars which ran alongside. Every now
and then we were also called upon to do longshoring — to unload
the steamers when their time was short. The work was hard,
but after a day or two of it I got into the swing, being now in
fairly good trim, and found nine hours of manual work in
Alaska not much harder than sitting for a like period in an
office. The pay was thirty-five cents an hour.
Having got work my partner and I rented for four dollars a
month one of the many empty shacks that made up the town
of Skagway. There was still some furniture left in it — a large
wooden bed, a table, a stove and a couple of chairs ; they were
all that we really required. We bought a stock of groceries on
credit, and after our day's work we would buy some meat or
some fish for our evening meal. Halibut was plentiful in the sea
off the shoi-e, so this fish we were able to buy very cheaply.
Bacon and eggs, too, often appeared on our menu.
Our life during these days was not vei'y exciting. We ^^'ould be
at our A\ork on the wharf by seven in the moi-ning and would
knock off at six in the evening, with a break of one liourat mid-
day. Aftei' our supper we would yarn and smoke till about nine
o'clock when we turned in ; for, as we had to be up by six in the
morning, we could not afford to keep late hours, esjjceially after
a hard day's work. Saturday evening was generally more lively,
and Sunday was indeed a day of rest. In fact, I do not think I ever
appi'eeiated ^ny Sundays so much as I did then after a week of
hai'd "graft." A long sleep well into the morning would be
followed by a general clean up of the shack, of the plates and
88
IX ALASKA
dishes, and finally of ourselves, who perhaps needed it most.
When this was finished one of us would take up an axe and set
off to chop a week's supply of firewood, often breaking into an
empty shack and utilising some of the spare wood lying about
there. And we were not at all particular as to what we con-
verted into firewood. It would be not far off sunset by then,
and our supper would be followed by a yarn and smoke. My
companion-in-toil was a most entertaining fellow and talked
very well. Besides being well read, his hard experiences of the
seamy and sordid side of life had taught him much — for there is
no better teacher than Experience ! He had been out West then
over six years. His favourite subject was Socialism, and, when
he was discussing his pet topic, his eyes would flash and he
would speak with much fervour, his fluent flow of language at
times almost approaching eloquence.
After we had been housekeeping together for a couple of
weeks, my companion had to leave me and take a shack of his
own, as he developed some skin disease, which he must have
caught amongst the mountains wliere there was much poisoned
ivy. It was nothing of a serious nature but, being contagious, it
necessitated his moving,
Skagway, the name of which in the Indian dialect means
" windy," fully lived up to its title. Through the gorge between
the lofty mountains, at the foot of which the little town lay, the
wind on many days would blow v/ith great violence, and when
it rained, as it did very frequently, work on the wharf was far
from pleasant. But one can get used to anything in this world,
and in an incredibly short time. After a few weeks of regular life
in this little out-of-the-way spot, the dark and sombre surround-
ings began to grow on me. I grew accustomed to the towering
mountains that cast their gloomy shadows over the settlement
at tlieir feet. One large glacier, lodged between two jagged
peaks, on which the rising sun threw its early morning rays used
to gi-eet my sleepy eyes every morning as I threw open the cabin
door. When a mist hung over the peaks obscuring them from
sight, a feeling that something was missing used to come over me.
89
A WANDERER'S TRAIT.
My companion lel't mc in tlic middle of the montli of Sep-
tember, restless and anxious to return to the States after an
absence of two years. I said good-bye to him with feelings of
regret as we had l^cen excellent partnei's wliilst together, I
never saw him again !
Having in nn'nd the intention to go into Klondyke, I arranged
to take up the last bunch of cattle for the year. I quit my job
on the wharf after seven weeks of regular work, during which
])ei'iod I had saved eighty dollars gold. I was strongly advised
not to attempt to enter the Klondyke at that time, as the
winter was on the eve of setting in, the nights ah'cady having
conmienced to ])e cold and frosty. I was told that within the
short space of two weeks the Yukon would begin to freeze over
and within a month would be unnavigable. Despite all this, I
determined to take the cattle up north. Looking back to-day I
see clearly the risks I i-an but then ignored, in making my ti'ip
into the Yukon so jieai- the approach of winter, whilst every
steamer was briiiging down its load of Imndreds leaving the
noithland to "go ])elow." The same Providence, liowever, that
watches over the sailoi- and the drunkard jnust have kept a
watchful eye on me also.
With my wad of greenbacks in my pocket, with a cheery last
word to my pals, I boarded the train on which were already
loaded the cattle bound for tlie Yukon.
90
chapti:r VII
DOWX THE YUKOX TO KLOXDYKE
AS tlio trail! drew out I felt more like aliglitino- than going
on. being not a little anxious about my return. All my
l'ellow-woik(M's I was leaving behind must liavc thought
I was mad going up to Dawson at that time of the year ; in
faet, some of them flatly told me so. But few of them could
vmderstand the desii'e, so strong in me, to sec fi'esh. places and
to gain new experiences.
From Skagway the train ran along the trail we had trodden
some weeks before ; near the hanging I'ock at Clifton I looked
down into the valley l)elow and caught sight ojice again of the
little log-cabin in the mountains iji which we had spent one or
two nights. The train consisted of only four coaches, but drawn
by three engiiies ; this should give an idea of the almost
precipitous heights we were ascending. Befoi'c reaching the
White Pass we passed thi-ough a long tunnel and then over a
steel cantilever bridge spanniiig a yawning canon.
We reached the sununit of the White Pass a little after noon.
It had taken us three hours to cover the short distance of
twenty miles, from Skagway to the top, where lay the bouiidary
line between American and British territory, the two flags
flying within a few feet of each other.
Thence the train I'an along the Thompson River, skirting
many siuall lakes and streams. We reached Lake Bennett at
al)out two o'clock, near to Avhieh lay the town of the same
name, a small settlement of wooden shacks. After a short stay,
we resumed om- journey, skirting the shores of the lake on the
eastern side. On the 0])posite side, some miles across, could be
seen huge mountains that rose almost precipitously from the
91
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
water's edge. At the end of the lake we came to the small
settlement ol' Caj'ibou where the train crossed another bridge.
Still going north wc passed numerous lakes and rivers ; and
had sight of the death-dealing rapids of Miles Canon through
which in the early days boats were steered with the Fear of
Death for pilot. We arrived at our destination, Whitehorse —
the terminus of the railroad — at half-past six in the evening. It
had taken us nine hours to cover a distance of one hundred and
twelve miles.
After the cattle had been transferred from the train into
corrals I went off to a restaurant close by to get a meal, and
there tasted for the first time a moose steak, which seemed to me
very similar to a beefsteak.
Here at Whitehorse I had my last chance to turn back,
whilst there was yet time, I found I was the only solitary one
going into Klondyke, whilst every boat was bringing down
its hundreds from Dawson. However, I decided to go on and
risk it.
We did not start the task of running the cattle on to the river
boat, the last to go down the river for the year, till shortly after
three in the morning. It was very cold at that hour and the clear
frosty sky was brightly illuminated by the noi'thern lights,
clearly indicating the near approach of winter. It ^vas not with-
out much shouting and cracking of long whips that all the
cattle were put on board before daylight. In all we shipped
forty-seven steei-s, thirty calves, and a score of sheep, which I
was commissioned to hand over to their owners in Dawson
City.
Just before sunrise we cast off our lines and started the
passage down the Yukon. Towards eleven o'clock in the morning
I had finished my work of feeding and watering the live-stock,
and had, consequently, plenty of time and opportunity to view
my surroundings.
From the Whitehorse Rapids the Yukon ran through low
and liilly country ; the banks were green and in places flowers
grow abundantly. It was, indeed, at times hard for one to
92
DOW^" THE YUKON TO KLONDYKE
realise that one was within a few miles of the Arctic Circle. How-
ever, on the second day much of the scenery was more rough
and rugged.
A rather unusual incident happened on our first day on the
river. Whilst I was down on the lower deck, I heard shrill blasts
of the steamer's whistle continuously sounding. On going on
deck to ascertain the cause I saw ahead of us two large moose
swimming across the river within fifty yards of the oncoming
steamer. Naturally every gun on the boat spoke, resulting in the
bag of one of the animals, the other having the sense whilst
there was yet time to turn back to the bank and seek shelter.
It was but the work of a moment before three of us were in one
of the ship's boats rowing off to secure our prize. The animal
weighed over three hundred pounds, though only a yearling.
During the night the steamer made her way along the river
by means of a powerful searchlight, the rays of which illumin-
ated the dark wooded banks and gloomy surrounding country.
Here and there the light flickered on jagged boulders over
which the fast-flowing river tumbled. After two days' steaming
with the current we tied up at Dawson.
It was just before dawn when the famous city of the Klondyke
loomed in sight, just outside the Arctic Circle.
In the cold small hours of the morning we discharged the
cattle, when I was through with my job.
I am not going to attempt to describe Dawson. Space forbids ;
and, besides, many an abler pen has assumed the task with only
a moderate measure of success. Suffice it for me to say that
Dawson is all built of wood ; not a brick is to be seen within its
confines.
Considering the fact that ten years ago there was not a
dwelling worth}^ of the name on its site, its present size with all
its modern appliances ^ is surely a wonderful testimony to the
power of gold. Banks, hotels, churches and saloons are to-day
to be found along the wooden side-walked streets of Dawson
'*■ Dawson City boasts that it can supply the miner with anything from
a tenpenny nail to a 60 h.p. boiler.
93
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
City ; but iheDawson of to-day i-> not the Da\v.-,on of yesterday
— of '97. Its glory has departed.
The famous town of tlie Kloudyke lies at the foot of the
Dome — the mountain that overlooks Dawson. From the Dome
a magnifieent view of the surrounding country is obtained. One
writer describes it in these words : " Stretching away to the
north-west could be traced the windijig course of the Yukon
on its way to its extreme northern point at Fort Yukon where
it ci'ONses the Arctic Circle. On the north and east were visible,
ncai'ly 100 miles away, the snowy peaks of the world's
greatest I'idge which sweeps northward from the plateau of
Mexico, rises in the heights of the Rockies, and is perpetuated
in tlie nortliei'ii chain of mountains across British America to the
Arctic Ocean. On the south-east lay the valley of the Klondyke
and its tributaries — the gi'cat goldfield wliich has lured its tens
of thousands of eager and hopeful ai'gonauts to the discovery
of gold; has cojitributed over 100,000,000 dollars to the
woi'khs supply of that precious metal."
The wintci- had now almost set in. the I'ivci' at its banks
ha\-i]!g ah'cady begun to freeze up. The days were rapidly
getting sliortc-!'. As Dawson is so near to the .Vretic Circle it is
light (Veil at midniglit in the middle of the summer ; l)ut. on
tlif otlicr Jiand. during the (lc])th of wintc'r tlic' suii makes but
a A"cry slioit a]j])ea!anee.
On the (lay cjf my an•i^-a] I \-isited Bonanza Cix-c-k. near which
the lii'st lind of gold AS'as made. The days. ho^\•(W(•r. of a poor
maifs ])r(')])o-itic)!i in the ])]acer workings of tlic- fvlondyke arc-
a tiling of the jiast. Jii-.t as on the Rand tliey have given place
io the extensive workings of the ca})italist. "Where ten years ago
(jiie saw a eoiij)lc of miners wiih a ])an and a few sluice boxes,
to-day one scc^ a huge cN ctrieal dredgC'i'at work ; the '" I'reezing-
out "' |);(K'c^s. iM;i(ic<a~y bygicat \'.'ea]ih. has played its ])ait.
T \vall-:i(l along tlif .KN-iidyki' Bi\-(-r ajul oblained a glini])se
(•f the miiiliig oj)t .alien - that were- -till at work. Ilc-re and
Iheie 1 exehaiigcd \\'oi(k \'.i{li miners, who had no intc'iition to
■■ g(j below."" IjuL with the. '" grub stake "" the\' had made by
94
DOWN THE YUKON TO KLONDYKE
^vagc-^vOl•kinl;' during tJic suinincr \\cie going to .spend tlie
winter prospecting. Pjospecting with the glass " 70° below "
and the need to thaw out the ground is perhaps the
hardest test of endui'anee the woj'ld can tc-day supply. One
miner toid me that he ])ad been eight yeais up in the north-
land witliout ever leaving it ; and fuither was determined not
to return to the States till he had struck it rich. Ever
that obsession- — to find gold ! He said he now almost preferred
the grim wildness of the noi-th to the soft and suimy clime
of California, where was his home.
On my return to Dawson in the evening I strolled into the
"31 &N" Saloon, where from the rather disturbed atmosphere
of the place I noticed something was amiss. One man was just
])icking hi mself from the ground, whilst inost of the attention was
concentrated on a drunken miner sitting on the billiard-table. On
inquiring what was the ti'ouble, I was informed that the miner
liad " buffaloed " the saloon — in other woi'ds, he defied the crowd
or any of the bar-tenders (the man whom I had observed picking
Jiiiiiself up was one of the latter) to put him outside. He remained
there calling on any doggoned son of a b to put him out. No
one accepted th.c invitation, till the door opened and a trooper of
tlie R.X.W.^r. Police in liis redcoat stiolled in. Another trooper
C|uietly followed. Neither in any wayapi)eai'ecl to notice anything
\vas ])artieulai]y wi'ong. The first trooper ..trolled up to the table
aud. looking steadily at the drunken miner, quietly ordei'cd him
to put his coat on and get out. The miner started to swear and
bhi^ter ; but at the repeated ordei', this time in rather sharper
tones, he put his coat on and walked out like a lamb. The
two ti'oopcrs follov^'ed. They did not e\-en tiouble to arrest
him, tlie oceun-enee being no unusual one. This little incident,
made me realise what an inlluenee this small body of men
luid gnincil in Miat wild sin-teh (A' coiinhy. During the great
iu-,!i tlic i roopers of this coij), -one ol llie linesl lliat ever
I nlod I lie Iving's (lorninion-, - did l:l!(ir ^^^)lk in the icy north
on Mieir wage of one ck>llar a day, when fhe lowest wage for
oalinaiy uuskiJled labour was seldom under twenty. During
y5
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
that mad rush into Klondykc not a single murder was com-
mitted in British territory. That alone speaks volumes for the
Royal Xorth-West Mounted Police.
I was fortimate in being able to arrange a workaway's job
back on the Whitehorse (the steamer on which I had come
doNvn the Yukon) — a job which was at that moment a much-
sought-for one, particularly as this was the last steamer to leave
for the year. It was the 29th day of September.
The following evening the steamer sailed, packed from top to
bottom with its living freight — the last of those to leave the
now almost empty city ; the rest, poor devils, to pass months
in almost living darloiess shut up in the frozen north. ^
The job 1 had allotted me was that of making the beds for
those in the steerage, as well as to give a hand to the various
wood-piles where the ships tied up to take on a supply of fuel
— neitlier a very oneious task ! The iiist-named occupation
generally meant two or tliree hours' yarning with the ow^ners
of the beds ; whilst the latter was but an hour or two of hard
woi'k.
On the hrst day out, whilst making myself generally useful
— ^at that particular moment trying to make a refractory stove
burn — I got into conversation with a mining engineer, a
Bo^^tonian, and during our short trip we had many interesting
chats. I formed on this j'iver steamer a friendship which is as
firm to-day as then. 3Iy Boston friend was a tactful man, for,
whilst informing me that he liad noticed lue roaming round
Dawson, he mentioned tliat he had thought that I was not
exactly born to the life I was leading. I thanked him for his
compliment, at the same time adding that I was glad that
thej'e were still iioticcable some strains of respectability in me,
which Mere certainly not apparent in my jagged pants, kept
Lip by a ro])e, and my lough shirt.
Amonj>st tliost- in the stecraij;c was a coon who used to enter-
tain us v.-ith jjlaJitation ^,(jngs — and none: but a darkie can sing
them- — accompanied on a violin.
' 1 he Vukoji is not 0])en jur navigation till about the middle of .May.
90
DOWN THE YUKON TO KLONDYKP:
Against tlic strong euncnt we made much slower progress
tlian when going north. We had also in tow a scow— the barge
of the Yukon — which made our progress slower still. Indeed
through the Five Finger Rapids it was just as much as we could
do to steam against the foaming current.
The course of the Yukon is very tortuous, winding through
every variety of scenery fi'om the rugged gorges of the Five
Fingers to the low and desolate country round Hootalinqua.
In places the obvious result of glacier movement was very
noticeable. On one range of hills the tops were flattened with
surprising regularity, for all the world like the turrets of an old
castle.
Stopping here and there at the many wood-piles, which meant
for me an hour or two of "grafting," on the third day we
reached Tantalus, where a scam of coal was being worked. Its
quality was rather poor. The nights now were very cold and
frosty, though it was still warm in the daytime. Steaming
through the quiet waters of the Yukon during the night, with
the \\'hite i-ays of the powerful searchlight intensifying the dark-
ness of the silent and gloomy mountains, was most impressive.
It was interesting, too, to watch the pilot flashing the light along
the banks till he picked up the landmark he was seeking, his
only aid for navigation.
After five days we reached Whitehorse, the river boat tying
up at daybi-eak on the first day of October.
Having an hour or two before the train to Skagway left,' I
j-oamed round the town, \vliieh was in every way similar to
Skagway, tliough in a ratlier iuore flourishing condition. Close
to the town were the Whitehorse Rapids, where so many met
their death in the early days.
31uch copper was being mined round Whitehorse, and an
excellent grade of ore too. 1 shovelled many a ton of it on the
wharves at Skagway and needed no reminder tnat this ore \\as
being exported m ever-increasing quantities to the States, there
' Being an ex-eniployee of the railroad 1 was granted a free pass over
the line, thereby saving twenty dollars — the fare at twenty cents a mile !
G 97
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
to be smelted. Many Yankee tourists on the round trip to Skag-
way used to remark this bright copper ore (" Peacock " copper)
lying on the wharves in heaps ; and not a few of them thought
it was gold quartz from the Klondyke. I was asked more than
once by some fair maid: "flight I take just one small piece,
please ? '" I blandly gave them all permission. It wasn't mine,
and besides they couldn't have taken away a dollar's ^vorth if
they had tried. It was on one of these occasions that I was offered
my first tip,
I remarked one young damsel — she was pretty — -with a fragile
pair of boots on daintily picking her way over the heaps of ore,
selecting the pretty-looking pieces (doubtless later to tell lier
friends : " This is gold quartz from the Klondyke I "). At that
particular moment I was sitting on my barj-ow a\N'aiting my turn
to get a load- — and I used sometimes to miss my turn. Forgetting
that I was only a navvy, I asked the young gii-1 to allow me to
gather her one or two pieces. She thanked me and asked me to do
so. Whilst I was giving her a few specimens a flat -hatted, dough-
faced object, with pants three to four feet across the hips like
flour sacks, and chiffoned shoe-laces,^ joined her. On seeing me
handing the young girl the several pieces of ore, this lop-sided
specimen of humanity described above pulled out a dollar and
held it out to me. I looked at him for a moment, raised my rather
ragged hat to his companion, and walked away with the parting
words : " You'd better keep your money, as I may have more
than you ! " He looked remarkably silly, and the young girl, I
was pleased to note, looked daggers at him. After all, I suppose
it was rather foolish of me — not to have taken it. One hard old
case, who had witnessed the little episode, certainly thought so,
for when I returned to my barrow he said : " Say, did that guy
offer you any money ? " I replied: '" Why, yes I But I didn't
want liis mojiey ! "" The old man gazed despairingly at me fo)' a
]no]nent, tJien slowly i-ejoined. einphasising evcjy word : "Say,
kid. wlien yoii"\'c been i]i this counti'\' as long as me. you'll
' I lie typical gel-up of ihc modern American tourist — tiic bane of
the Far Eastern ports.
98
DOWN THE YUKON TO KLONDYKE
take from man, woman or child ! " With these words he left me,
looking the picture of disgust.
By two o'clock we were on the summit of the White Pass,
which was now covered with snow. It was bitterly cold, and
from Lake Bennett we had come through a blinding snowstorm.
The Alaskan winter had now set in in earnest.
Before entering American territory all of us on the train were
searched by troopers of the R.N.W.M. Police to see whether
we had any gold-dust secreted on our persons. The Canadian
Government demands its royalty on all the gold that leaves the
country. I told the trooper, who was wasting his time in search-
ing me, that of all the gold he found on my person he could have
half. He was no richer when he was through !
It was miserably wet and windy when we descended into the
Skagway valley and reached the town.
Having now completed my trip into Klondyke and back, my
intention was to return to Vancouver as soon as possible. With
this object in view I haunted the docks for the next few days,
worrying every south-bound ship with as much tenacity as I
had worried them before to go north.
I was fortunate during these few days in being able to get some
work again on the wharf, though the gangs of men were much
reduced in size since my departure to Dawson as the work for
the season was all but at an end.
At last my efforts to get a workaway's job were successful. I
joined the steward's staff for the trip of the Princess May, one
of the C.P.R. steamers that ply between Vancouver and Alaska.
My last night in Skagway I spent in the " Packtrain " playing
'"blackjack" (a species of vingt-et-un) in company of some
miners from Dawson and others, amongst the latter being my
three cattle-companions of the Ilalvard, who, since they had
come up, had been working in a section gang on the railroad. I
was a few dollars to the good by the time we " let up " in the
early hours of the morning.
Late in the afternoon of the day following — the 9th — I said
my last good-bye to the many pleasant fellows ^vith whom I had
99
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
lived and worked for so many weeks. I felt quite sad when I saw
those gloomy peaks that overshadowed Skagway pass out of
sight. I took one long lingering look at my glacier, which was
now less distinct, as its before-dark surroundings were now
covered with snow. I realised then in a small way the fascination
this wild northland had for those who breathed its atmosphere
for any length of time. I began to realise the truth in the words
of the Canadian Kipling ^ :
" I haicd it like liell for a season, and
Then I became worse than the worst ! "
It was dark when the lights of Skagway had faded away in
the distance.
The steamer on which I had arranged to work my passage
back to Canada liad to call on its way south at many })orts along
the south-east Alaskan and the British Columbian coasts, thus
giving me an excellent opportunity of seeing a little more of
this part of the world.
Our fir.^t stop was at the small Indian settlement of Wrangel.
This little town is the entrepot for all goods and fi'cight destined
foj- the placer workings round the Stikine River. Wrangel, from
a historical point of view, is interesting, as it was founded as
early as 1834 by the Russians. After the change of ownership in
1867 the United States Government established tlicre a military
])ost and the place for many years was kno^vn as Fort Wrangel.
To-day, however, the title of '" fort "' lias been dropped and
juueh of its past glory has departed. To tiie sightseer, beyond a
glimpse of the Alaskan Indian at home and his totem poles —
his idols — there was nothing much of interest.
Passing again tlie beautiful wooded shores of the mainland
l)acked with their snowy I'anges of moimtains, we reached
Ketchikan early in the morning of our second day. Ketchikan
is, as I Jiave already mentioited, the custom port of entry for
American territory ; it has besides a growing canning trade, the
fisheries off tlic coasts produciiig an almost ijiexhaustible supply
' " Songs of a Sourdough " i^R. Service;.
100
DOWN THE YUKON TO KLONDYKE
of salmon, halibut and other lish. The salmon is the prineipal
fish that is canned. This little town is also the centre of a growing
copper district.
It was suggested by the second steward just befoi-e the boat
sailed that I should help to wait at table during the trip. Being
quite determined not to do anything of the kind I quietly and
tactfully set to work to make him realise how disadvantageous
such a course would be to the passengers and to the ship in
general. I gently hinted that I would be quite equal to tipping
plates of soup into ladies' laps, as well as plates of pie down their
necks. My woi-ds had the desired effect ; and as there were two
other " Avorkaways " on boaixl I was detailed off to make up the
bunks of the passengers in tlie steerage and to clean up the
lavatoiies of the ship ; in short, to do most of the dirty work
on board. In other words, I was the " janitor." The other two
" workaways " were inspanned as assistant waiters and I wished
them luck with their job. I preferred mine to theirs.
I say " I was detailed off " to these various duties, but I do
not say for a moment that I carried them out to the letter, for
when it came to dodging bosses and work — well, in that I needed
a lot of excelling ! When the wharf of Skagway grew every
moment moi-c distant and I knew that I was safe to go with
the ship, my spirit of independence ijiereased. I then inter-
preted the duty of making the beds in the steerage into that of
yarning and playing " blackjack " with their various occupants,
only working like a " perspiring Trojan " when I was warned of
the approach of the second steward seeking my whereabouts.
I would then be instructed to start the task of cleaning up the
lavatories ; on the completion of that task I would be sent
off to shine up the brasswork on the upper decks. This was
where I scored ; for I spent most of my time, whilst ostensibly
industriously polishing door-knobs, in gazing at the beautiful
scenery we were passing and in gossiping with passengers. I
got so expert by the end of the trip in gossiping and polishing
brasswork simultaneousl>^ that I felt that I had at last left the
ranks of unskilled labour.
lOI
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
To my sui-prise 1 found nearly all the occupants of the " glory
hole " or. in other words, the stewards of the ship, were young
Englishmen and, with but few exceptions, public school boys,
undoubtedly sons of gentlemen, but not for a moment would I
suggest it was a case of like father like son. Their conversation
was nearly always on the subject of the ti])s the voyage would
produce. I could barely conceal my contempt for them, more
particularly when I heard the tenor of their conversation, such
remarks as : " The old cha]i in No. 12 ought to be worth a
five-dollar bill !" and: "That old girl in No. 6 I reckon is
good for a ten spot ! " ; and so on. It is almost unnecessary to
add that the bulk of them were remittance-men.
During this trip I kept very irregular hours, playing " black-
jack " every night imtil very late. I was sometimes out and
sometimes in, nevei', however, breaking far into my little nest-
egg. By the end of the trip 1 was a five-dollar bill to the good.
We reached Port Simpson early in the morning of the 11th,
the atmosphere off the coast being, as is not unusually the case,
very misty and damp. Dixon Entrance — tlie international
boundary line between American and British territory — faces
this little port. Port Simpson was for many decades the head-
quarters of the Hudson Bay Company, and it still possesses
an old fort and trading post. A rather interesting old building
stands near the whaif, which was erected, so it is said, before
even the arrival of the Hudson Bay men, which was as
early as the ])cginning of the eighteenth century. Concerning
this building one writer says: "It was in those days a guest-
liouse of the chiefs, and its supporting logs were grounded into
the earth on top of living bodies. The tale of this house, built
on the bones of human saci-ilicc.. is one of tlic many interesting
stories of the old Indians." Tntcresting — but latlicr gruesome !
A little to the south of this poi't lies its successful rival — ■
Prince Rupert — situated on a small island off tlic mainland. We
made a short stay here.
Prince Rupei't at the time of my visit had just been selected
as the tei-mimis of the Grand Trunk Railway. It must be to-day
102
DOWN THE YUKON TO KLONDYKE
double the size it was when I walked through its one-planked
main street. It was then termed " the town of the West in the
making," and looked what Seattle and other Pacific coast towns
must have appeared in their early days. Whether it will ever
grow to their present size Time alone will show. The posses-
sion of an excellent harbour is one of the chief reasons for its
selection as the site for the terminus of the new steel belt which
will soon span the Dominion.
Late in the afternoon of the following day we made our last
call — at xilert Bay, an Indian village situated on the shores
of a deep bay in Vancouver Island. Here we took on a big load
of tinned lish for Vancouver, thence to be distributed to all
parts of the world.
The Indian village with its rows of hideous totems gave me a
better insight into the life and customs of the Indian than any
of the places at which we had touched. The village, with its
wealth of totem poles, native houses and Indian war canoes,
was full of points of interest. The totem poles are most hideous
monstrosities.
The Indians along tliis coast — the aborigines of the land- — are
said to have lived for centuries as near to Nature as it has been
possible for them to do ; and looking at them to-day one is not
tempted to dispute the fact.
The following evening we reached Vancouver. Only three short
months had elapsed since my departure from British Columbia —
but three months that had been lived in an atmosphere of rough
and rugged life, in a country of sublime vastness, of impressive
wildness and of solemn grandeur : a country that leaves an in-
defaceable mark — the mark that reveals to Youth its ]Manhood.
103
CHAPTER VTII
TIARD TIDIES OX THE PACIFIC COAST
OX my arrival in Vancouver in the fall of the year I found
things vci'y dull, the slackness of trade usually associ-
ated with the season being greatly increased by the
financial panic which in that year shook the great North
American Continent to its foundations. Trade seemed utterly
paralysed. Everywhere in the streets of the town one only saw
crowds of unem])loyed. To make matters wor.^e the numbers
were being swelled daily, not only by hundreds of men like
myself coming down from Alaska, but by hundreds of others
coming out West from the eastern parts of Canada. Further, to
put the finishing touch to this deplorable state of affairs, ship-
loads of Japanese coolies were pouring into the country in regular
streams, taking what little work there was to be done. Was it
then to be wondered at that the working men of Vancouver
rioted and wrecked the greater part of the Japanese quarter in
the town ? The aftermath of these riots, wliich occui-red during
the month of Septembei', took the sha})e of the settlement of
compensation claims for damage inflicted to pro])ert\' during
the I'iots. This was in course of progress on my i-eturn. When I
recalled the sight I had witnessed, during July, of se^T'nteen
h.undicd Japanese coolies arriving in one batch, and ^\hen I
was told that many fresh batches had since tlien ari'ived in
Canada, I was not surprised that this coupled with tlie intense
stagnation had rouscd the passions of the ^^'orking man.
Ik-sides white men out of \\'ork. one saw lunribei's of ^\■hite-
turbancd Indians prowling the streets in batches, idle and nearly
sta!'\'ing : in fact, many of them did die of starvation and cx-
})Osure dui'ing tliat \vi]iter. ])es])ite all this disti'css, one of the
104
HARD TIMES OX TTTE PACTFTC COAST
great railways kept calling to tliose in the East : " Come West ! "
and at the same time employed Chinamen on the line. In such
times one feels sympathy with anarchists.
After four days of idleness I went south to Seattle, where I
joined hundreds of others in unsuccessful search for woi'k. The
state of Seattle was even woi-se than that of Vancouver ; so I
I'eturned after a week. To kill time I would stand in company
with others and watch the eastei'n train arrive with its load of
expectant humanity, which kept pouring in in response to the
heartless cry " Come West ! " Yes, some poor devils came West,
wliilst the half of us were trying to go East — to go anywhere, in
fact, to get away from the monotonous cry of '" nothing doing."
Only the railway made money !
Whilst I still had some dollars left I did not worry very much.
I spent many hours, and dimes also, in the various vaudeville
shows that abounded in the city, and they helped to pass the
time that was beginning to hang heavily on my hands. I tried to
get a job in my old cigar stoi'c again, but found that my real
estate friend had already gone under, an early victim to the
depression that was sweeping over the land. In one cigar store I
was fairly sanguine of getting a billet. The owner, after my
inquii'ing for a job and explaining to him that I had some
experience in the town, asked me to put up some pictures in his
stoic pointing out for the purpose a rickety ladder on which he
himself was too seared to ascend. I spent an hour and moi-e, at
some risk to my limljs, in fixing up his advertisement pictm-es
I'ound the sho]) ; Ijut on completion of that work I, antici-
pating a job, was asked whether I smoked and was handed
a five-cent cigar ! He was a Scotch Canadian. Is it necessary
to say it ?
That evening I obtained a job. I was selected as a " super "
foi' the stage at one of the small theatres in the town. My part
was that of a factory hand. It needed no acting ; the role
came quite naturally after my recent months of roughing it. I
received per night for my talented sei'vices the huge sum of
twenty-five cents (one shilling), which just paid for my evening
105
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
meal. However, I got quite a lot of fun out of it. The fu'st night
I appeared I remarked that the leading lady winked at me whilst
she was aeting the part of Crlory in The Christian. But the
thought that I had made a conquest was sjjeedily dispelled by
the realisation that the wink only indicated that I was to shout
at that particular moment. Oh, the disillusion !
Some of the incidents behind the scenes wei'c also very amus-
ing. The actor who took the part of the Bishop in the play,
liaving ended his appearance on the stage by blessing John
Storm, remarked as soon as he was out of sight and earshot of
the audience : " Lord, it is as hot as hell on there ! " This httle
side-play was, perhaps, only equalled by Glory. She had called
forth great applause by her acting of a ratln- ■ touching scene,
ending: "' Kiss me, John ! " The moment the curtain dropped,
and the touchijig request barely out of her pietty mouth, slie
called for the stage managci' and swoi-e at him about the arrange-
ment of the stage as daintily, and yet as fluently, as only an
accomplished actress could. The witnessing of these and other
incidents, coupled with the receipt of "two bits," fully repaid
me, I felt, foj' placing my histrionic talents at the disposal of
the management. TJie following evening I was offered a job of
usher in the pit at the munificciit wage of fifty cents a night.
I could iiever gather whether tlii'^ offer was a compliment or
otherwise. It wa.^ either an appreciation of my suave demeanour
and air distingue ov a decided reflection on my histrionic talents
before referred to. I refused tlie billet.
Dui'ing these days I used to haunt the docks, as the position
was fast becoming serious enough to compel me to contemplate
a voyage to anywluTe. One du}' I nearly got a jol) as tiiird
office!' on tlie Gcorilia, a steamei' tliat ran regularly between
Canada and Mexico. I was ])roiniscd the ])Osition failing the
unlikeh' alternati\'e that the ship might secui'c a real ollicer with
a cei'tificate. Tliis pi'omi>e was the I'esult oi' a talk with the
captain, who. for a master on a ship, seemed a most credulous
man : possibly he only appeared to me so. However, on the
mori'ow I Icarnl that the unlikely alternative had turned uj)
loO
HARD TIMES ON THE PACIFIC COAST
in the shape of a dismissed Empress officer ; so my chance of
beaching tlie Georgia vanished.
I also nearly went to Boston during these hard times, in
response to an invitation from my Alaskan friend. I endeavoured
to obtain the opportunity of accompanying a party of China-
men who were being sent overland " in bond." This would
have meant a free passage to the East and a possible five-dollar
bill. I was unsuccessful, being fourth on the list, which, as the
railroad cleik showed me, contained over one thousand names !
That alone was a sign of the times. This railroad clerk was
quite a good fellow ; for he told me that if I could disguise myself
as a parson — i.e. don a dark suit and turn my collar round — he
would issue me a padre's ticket, which meant a considerable
reduction on the usual fare. However, though I flattered myself
I could look like a parson, I could not raise half the necessary
cash to buy the ticket, even at the much -reduced figure. Hence,
my efforts to go east, either as a guard of Chinamen or as a sky-
pilot, were of no avail. I couldn't go east, I couldn't go north,
I tried hard to go west, even to tlie extent of making an
unsuccessful attempt to stowaway on one of the Empress
steamers bound for Japan. So I had to go south.
On Thanksgiving Day — 31st October — I obtained anothci-
job — to count and weigh frozen carcasses of sheep. This brought
in a few dollars and kept the wolf from the door for a few days
inore.
Tliat approaching starvation quickens the wits is, I think, a
recognised fact : judging, therefore, by the following brilliant
scheme evolved by three kindred spirits and myself, we must all
indeed have been very nea;- starvation point. Two men, whom avc
I'an across in — ^vc'll say in the public library — had just dis-
covered in Vancouver Islajid the bones of a huge mastodon — a
iclie of preliisto)-ie ages, possibly n mammoth of the Glacial
Period. They had brought the bones o\'er from the island, and
having put them together were exhibiting the skeleton in a
liall. charging a small sum for admittance. Well, with these
two men The Hard Up Company [i.e. we four) signed a contract
107
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
that the company would pay within seven days the sum of a
thousand dollars for a six months' option on the brute, the said
companj^'s idea being to travel with their skeleton through the
States and exliibit it thei'e for a eonsideration. Seeing that the
funds at the company's disposal (hd not exceed twenty dollars,
a fact of which the prospective vendors wei'C I'ortimately not
aware, the })i'ospccts of the company wci'c not exactly of the
bi'ightest. In fact, the managing director, who shall be nameless,
was discovered two days before the period of seven days had
elapsed offering his directorate and all his interest in the Hard
Up Company foi- sale, a hint being thi'own out that a five-dollar
bill would effect the transaction. The sale, however, did not
come off, there being no buyers. Furthermore the sale of the
mastodon never came off, there being no cash. On this the
company went into liquidation and i-emaincd there. The
(hreetoi's all scattci'cd far and wide, the managing director
going over to Victoria to try to get a job.
The siglit of Victoria was very refreshing after the weeks I had
spent in the hybrid town of Vancouver. I would like to use a
stronger word than hybrid, but on eonsideration I refrain. The
scenei'y between Vancouver and Victoria was vci'y pretty, and
one was almost within the harboui- of Victoria, which is screened
from view by a rocky promontory, before being nware of it.
I almost felt like being back in England again, so homelike is the
capital of British Columbia. What was particulaily attractive
was the presence of fences enclosing the gaidens of the pictur-
esque dwellings — a thing one never sees in any other town on
the Pacific coast. The fence is a typiccally English institution —
exclusive, insular, and conservative.
I returned to Vancouver towards the end of November,
practically " broke." but soon gave the city best and left south
fo!' Seattle. ]My diary for that day (23i-d November '07) read :
" Left Vancouver (I hope for evei' !) for Seattle.'" \'aneouver
and I never seemed to agree.
Six days later, Seattle being if anything in a woi^e condition
than the Canadian town, I secui'cd with my last few dollars a
io8
\";i i>>K[\. 1!.C
\ AM < 'I \ IK, 1!,(
HARD TIMES ON THE PACIFIC COAST
passage on a lumber boat bound for 'Frisco. Many others, out
of work like myself, were also bound for that city, lying rumours
having reached us that things were not so depressed in California
as in the north.
A heavy swell made our vessel, ^\'hich had a big deck cargo of
timber, roll nearly on to her beam ends. The greater part of the
men on board — there was not a single woman — spent their time,
when not feeding the fishes, in playing cards and drinking rye
whisky, which were about the only things with which to occupy
time. We literally rolled down to San Francisco, berthing there
late in the evening of the 3rd December after four days at sea.
Things in 'Frisco were very bad ; even worse than up north.
Work was unobtainable. The city was in the throes of a financial
])anic. Men who had hundreds of dollars to their credit in the
banks were unable to draw a cent, clearing-house certificates
realisable in the April following being handed them instead.
Well-to-do men were vainly trying to borrow a ten-dollar bill
with which to buy their Christmas dinnei'.
My plight was not exactly a happy one. I had had in my
mind the idea of spending the winter on the fruit ranch in
Hcaldsburg, which I had visited in the early part of the year ;
but on meeting my friend I found that he was as hard pressed
as I and was at that moment goi]ig up to the ranch himself.
He was out of a job, his saloon having failed. So here was I with
just two dollars in my pocket ; no woi'k, not the slightest chance
of getting any ; and with eveiy probability of being stranded
in 'Frisco which was hardly the town I should have selected
for the purpose. But my lucky star did not fail me. My good
Japanese friends, who during these years have ever been so
ready to lend me a helping hand, came to my aid. Through their
inlluciicc I was able to arrange to work my passage to Japan in
an old tramp. The steamer, at the moment of my arrival, Avas
just completing discharge of a cargo of Japanese coal prior to
loading in the Puget Sound ports for Vladivostock. On her
arrival in Japan from Vladivostock she was to be sold to a
Japanese shipowner.
109
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
I proceeded to the docks, passing alone along the wharves^ — a
thing which no one in his right senses would do at night-
time — and found the old steamer that was to be my home for a
few weeks. In appearance she was just an ordinary cargo boat ;
but she was about as dilapidated an old tramp as one could
have wished to sec, lier rusted sides and ancient paintwork fully
testifying to lier age of twenty-five years. Her design was old-
fashioned, most of her accommodation being aft in the poop,
wliicli was connected to the bridge deck by a running bridge over
the aft' well deck. Her registered tonnage was two thousand
seven lumdred toils. I am not gi\'ing any unnecessary detail
j'egarding the Santolo^ for to follow all the old ship's adventures
it is necessary lo have a little idea of what she was like. The
man-in-the-stieet knows very little about tlie deep-sea tramp
that supplies him with liis daily requii'cments. his slight laiow-
ledge of the mercantile marine being limited to a su])erficial
acquaintance with palatial mail steamers.
The Santolo flew tlie German flag, being captained and
officered by Teutons : licr crew was Chinese. I said officered by
Teutons ; that at the time of my joining lier was hardly correct.
Her deck officers then consisted of the captain, a young man of
twenty-six though none the worse for that, and the chief officer,
an even younger man. The engine staff was equally deticient in
officers. The "chief " was only possessed of a second's " ticket,"
])esides being hopelessly addicted to drink, and a poor engineer
to boot. The second engineer, the only other oflieer the engiiie-
joom then ])0>se.ssed, was, however, quite a diffei'ent type of
man ; and it was solely due to him that the engines were in a
passable condition.
My ari'JN'al was somcwliat ()p])0]'tune, the shi]) iK'ing so short
of ollieer>. That same e\eiiing — the (ith Dectinber — I trans-
feiTcd (i]i board all the baggage whieli I had left in the town ;
and the iollowjjig morning flic .^fcamer, iiow Ijeing' emjjty. left
the (locks and anclioicd in the bay. i)ui'ing the ])]Ocess of mi-
jiKjfjriiig the; ship 1 was jeiegated to the poop to "stand by"
' Jo]" obvious reasons this is not the correct name-
IIO
HARD TllVffiS ON THE PACIFIC COAST
there ; the fact of my being told off to act as second mate made
me not a httle pleased with myself. Fortmiately " No. 1 " was
an able seaman, so my part of the work went off without a
liitch. My experience on the Strathyre also stood me in good
stead.
When out in the bay the ship had to be fumigated, this pre-
caution being enforced to prevent the spread of bubonic plague ;
a further regulation was also in force that every ship moored
to the wharf must have " rat-shields " attached to their moor-
ing lines to prevent any rodents leaving or getting on the ship;
The operation of fumigating the ship was decidedly un-
pleasant. All parts of the steamer- — cabins, holds, pantries —
were tightly closed, after large pots of burning sulphur had
been placed inside. For a period of seven hours all these parts
had to remain shut, under a heavy penalty. More than one
vessel, I was told, had been heavily fined for prematurely open-
ing up ; and rumour added that the port authorities derived
quite a profitable income out of these fmes, adding yet further
that the officials went out of their way not to impress upon the
officers of the various steamers the importance of complying
with that regulation. I myself observed more than once a spy-
glass being brought to bear on us, some official doubtless
hoping against hope that we should open up the ship before the
stipulated time. However, we were not caught napping and
waited the arrival of the rather sulky official, who instructed
us to open up the ship. During the period of fumigation I had
been allotted the duty of guarding the ship's stores and pro-
visions, for with a Chinese crew on board nothing was safe from
theft. Some time afterfumigation the unpleasant taint of sulphur
still lingered about the ship causing an irritable sensation in
the throat ; and it ^vas not till we had been at sea a couple of
days that the steamer was clear of the odour.
We sailed from 'Frisco on the evening of the 7tli, after
having signed on aiiother deck officer and two engineers. The
former was, like myself, without any certificate, but was on the
other hand a very capable and experienced sailor having been
III
A AVAXDERER'S TRAIL
bo'sun on many Boston trawlers. For some years, however, he
had been a butcher in the States. The two engineei's we shipped
were both of the " beachcomber " type ; one, without a certifi-
cate and with no more than tlie experience of a fireman, was the
better man of the two. He joined the sJiip as fourth engineer,
the other being in possession of a junior certificate. We were not
exactly what would be termed a liighly efficient crew, for, apart
from the officers, our Orientals were about as bad a bunch of
Chinks as could be sci-apcd out of the dives of Hong-Kong.
Thus manned, the Santolo proceeded up the coast to Paget
Sound, where we were to load for the East. Being in ballast we
made a quick passage and by noon of the 10th we anchored off
Port Townscnd. Here we started to load our cargo. As part of
my duties as junior officer I had to take a twelve-hour anchor
watch during the night in all these Pacific coast ports; Apart
from ordinary navigation reasojis, it was more than essential
that an. officer should be on watch dm-ing the night, as the
steamer was liable to a fine of five hundred dollars for every
one of the Chinese c]'ew that absconded from the ship, unless all
reasonable preeautioiis had been taken by the master ; and the
fact of an officer being on watch could save the situation. It
was a long and tedious watch — from six o'clock in the evening
till six in the morning — and seemed more wearisome than a
watch at sea. Tlie greatest hardsliip was to keep awake.
P;irt of our cargo we loaded at Tacoma and part in Seattle.
The bulk cf it consisted of flom- from the Tacoma mills, and also
a lai'gc consignment of fresh fruit. We also took in Tacoma a
hundi'cd Ions of coal, just sufficieiit to take us u]) to Vancouver
Island wlicj'c we wcve to coal foi- the voyage, as Tacoma coal
is of poor qualit\', with too much dust and too little lump. We
had to move the shi]) from bcrtli to berth many times whilst
taking in cargo, and in all cases this had to bc^ done by hauling
on our lines, the ship not being under steam. On moi'C than one
occasion 1 liad to " stand by " on the poo]), and judging fj'oni
the fact that I usually got a drink after the operation was over
1 concluded that I managed to carry out the orders from the
112
HARD TIMES ON THE PACIFIC COAST
bridge fairly satisfactorily. The work was always full of interest
to me, ton times more so than picking strawberries by Hood
River or laying " side-walks " in Vancouver.
On the evening of the 20th we steamed north for Vancouver
Island very deep in draught. We reached Ladysmith early the
following morning and started to coal. We were ready for sea
by ten o'clock the next day. During the night we experienced
some extremely violent squalls — a foretaste of the weather that
awaited us — and more than once during the night I had to
slack the ship's lines to prevent them carrying away. At eleven-
fifteen "full speed " was rung down to the engine-room, and the
old Santolo began her eventful and perilous voyage on the 22nd
of December 1907.
113
CHAPTER IX
A STORMY VOYAGE ACROSS Till". PACIFIC
THE .sy^telll of ^vatchc^ kept on the Santolo was that
they ^vel•e sliared by two ofiiccj's only ; not by three,
as is more usually the ease, when the an-angenient is
four hours '" on " and eii^ht hours " off." The watches on
board weie scj ari-anged that in twenty-four hours one officer
watched for eleven and the other for thirteen hours ; on the
next day hour> were I'cverscd. Sometimes, when there are but
two officci's. the watches aie shared equally — foui' houis '"on"
and four hours " off " ; })ut the foi niei' system is often picferred
as it permits the oflicci's to get ]no)'e tlian foiu' consecutive
hours' sleep.
On OLU- departure from Ladysmith the ca}:)tain told me that
I was to share the ■watch with the sccoiul oflicei', a])parently
working on the ])i'inei|)le that tA\(j Jion-certilicated nun on
^vatch would be about equal to one eertilicated oflicci. I was,
consequently, on watch with the second oflicci' fioji! seven
o'clock that cveniiig till midnight, when the cliicf oflicc'' relieved
Us till foui" o'clock in tlic morning. Eiom foui- a.m. till eight
o'cl(jck was our next watch.
At midnight we wei'c al)cam ol' {';\\)v Mattery, steering a wesl-
south-M'c-t cour--e. On lea\'ing the bridge a! eight o'clock in the
morning a. distijict change in ilie weatlici' was noLiceal>le, the
sky having become oxcicast and a strong wcstci'ly wiiid having
spj'ung u]). A fast-falling glass fu.ther drnoted a change and
warned us of an a])pi()aching storm.
^Vfter breaklasl I turned in till noon. Though expecting some
bad weather I was smpriscd when going (at watc-h again to lind
([uite a strong gale blowing : the unex])eeted fojce of the wiiid
ii-l
A STORMY VOYAGE ACROSS THE PACIFIC
nearly took me off my feet. The captain was on the bridge when
I went up. He looked anxious. I was hardly surprised, for I
knew that we had all our coal - bunkers in the alleyways
unbattencd down, being unable to attend to them till the
coal had settled.
The ship was already making bad weather, being very heavily
laden. Shortly after two o'clock " half -speed " was rung down
to the engine-room as the seas were getting too high. The glass
kept steadily falling and hourly the wind grew stronger. By
" six bells " in the aftci-noon watch the gale had increased
to a hurricane. So terrific was the force of the wind that
the seas were almost beaten down flat, and only one white
mass of foam met our gaze. It was nearly impossible to see
beyond the bows of the steamer so blinded were we on the
bridge by the driving rain and spray. The hurricane increased
in force till it I'cached its height late in the afternoon. Its
fury then was beyond description, the force of the wind
incalculable.
Rather foolishly the captain had delayed heaving to, and the
heavily laden tramp was now labouring badly in the seas. To
heave to at once was imperative. Shortly before four o'clock this
was done, though not before some big seas had swept us fore and
aft carrying away numerous spars and stanchions. One heavy
sea struck us on the port-side ; it broke clear over the ship,
smashing the engine-room skylights and pouring a ton of water
or more dowii on to the engines below. A quartermaster was sent
from the bridge to make fast some canvas over the part wliere
the skylight had carried away. Whilst thus occupied the first of
the long list of accidents and troubles that befell us on that
eventful voyage occurred. A big sea struck the ship ; there was
a lurch; a foothold was lost — and all was over. Carried by the
almost irresistible f<Hce of the wind the (piartcrmastei- Avas
s\v( pt o\ ei'board. A lifebuoy was thrown over to him ; of no avail
— the poor wretch drowned before our eyes ! To attempt to
launch a boat in such seas was madness. Even if we had been
successful in doing so no boat could have lived for a minute in
A ^VANDERER'S TRAIL
such a turmoil of raging waters. Witli a muttered prayer we
turned and faced tiie bows again.
Though tlie dec})ly-laden freighter was Jiovc to we were
continually shipping heavy seas over our bows, to such an
extent that sailors were sent for'd to pour oil through the
ports of the fo'c'sle with the ol)ject of In-eaking the force of the
waves. The oil had but little effect.
At five o'clock in the afternoon the second accident
occurred ; one that came very near to finishing the old
Smitolo then and there. Our steering gear carried auay ! A
clatter of heavy chains amidships, the steamer falling off her
course — ^told the talc only too well. We were now in about as
helpless and hapless a position as we could possibly be. And
night was fast approaching. Tremendous seas bi'oke over the
helpless tramp, as she lay wallowing in the trough of the water.
She rolled nearly to her beam ends. Our hand-steering gear was
useless, smashed by a big sea, though I wouldn't be sure that
it was in working condition on our depaiture.
With but little effort I recall to-day the pictiire of that vast
expanse of tumbling and raging seas on wliich the luckless vessel
tossed, under dark and gloomy storm-clouds that scurried over
the lieavcns. I can liear again the dismal sound of the abating
storm whistling and moaning through the swaying ma.sts. And
I can see again the fast-disa])pearing daylight ushcj'ing in tliat
stormy night, through which we drifted, never knowing but
that the next moment might be our last. Such nights need no
diai-y to recall them ; the mind bcai's faithful j-eeoid.
Going aft we found one of the steel connecting rods of the
steei'ing gear had paited, unequal to the ceaseless strain of the
heavy seas running. The rudder, now uncontrolled, was being
beaten to and fro by the angry seas and we feared that at any
moment we might lo^e it. The necessity to secure the quadrant
to ^\•hieh the rudder was attached was at once apjxirent, for we
knew that if we lost our rudder the ship was indeed doomed.
As thougli the danger envelo])ing us was not of sufficient
magiutude, the Chinese crew, panic-striclvcn by the serious
ii6
A STORMY VOYAGE ACROSS THE PACIFIC
position of the ship and demoralised by tlie loss of the sailor who
had gone overboard, deserted their posts and remained in the
fo'c'sle awaiting the end with true Oriental fatalism. Threats
and remonstrances were of no avail. To a man they i-efused to
go on deck. Instead, they burnt joss to their gods and remained
sullen and silent.
Hence, there remained but the four of us deck officers to
start in the dim light of a flickering lantern the almost hopeless
task of lashing the rudder. Large six-and-a-half-inch hemp
hawsers snapped like twine under the tremendous strain of the
seas. After three unsuccessful attempts we were compelled to
leave the poop for a time to turn our attention to an even
greater danger that threatened the safety of the ship — our
unbattened coal-hatches, through which water was fast pouring.
The ship, in fact, was slowly filling.
The task of shovelling the loose coal from off the hatches w^as
a heart-rending one, as every lurch of the distressed steamer
undid the work just done. Working feverishly, w'ith shovels and
with our hands, we at last were able to get the hatch covers on,
despite the constant shifting of the loose coal et every roll of
the ship. This task completed, we once again returned to the
poop to try to lash the rudder-quadrant. Realising that hemp
ropes were unable to stand the strain we thought of a heavy
steel hawser. This was stored in the fo'c'sle. The ship, lying in
the trough of the seas, was now rolling nearly on to her beam
ends. To keep a footing on the sloping sea-swept decks was an
almost impossible feat. So the task of bringing that steel hawser
through the ship, dodging tlie heavy seas that continually broke
over us, hanging on to life-lines, clutching, in short, to anything
on which one could get a hold, whilst sea after sea swept us clean,
was about the hardest I can recall. But our efforts with the
hawser were successful. By means of it we at last securely lashed
the quadrant to the " bits," thereby I'cndering tlic rudder
immovable. When divers examined the ship ot Honolulu, they
found one of tlie sockets of the rudder all but broken off ; it was
not lashed a moment too soon.
117
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
This urgent work finished we lelt entitled to relax our exer-
tions as the immediate danger to the ship Avas averted. It
was then about two o'eloek in the morning. Tlie night was in-
tensely dark. Angi'V ^toI■m-elouds seuri'ied over the leaden skies.
The wind moaned and howled thronglitlie masts of the labouring
steamer. Kvei'V now and then a faint gleam of the moon vc-
vealed to oui- eyes the wide expanse of foam-eovered ^eas,
each thi'eatening to engulf us as we drifted helpless. It was a
cheerless scene.
Our decks ])y now were littered with wreckage. Two of the
stcamei-''s boats lay in matchwood. One of them had been lifted
clear out of its " chocks " and had been hurled on to the M'heel-
house, where it lay in fi'agments. The iron coverings of all the
winch-pipes were lying in the scuppers, having been ripped f I'om
their fastcTiings luidei' the onslaught of the seas that had swept
the decks. Broken spars, stanchions and ])ieces of woodwork lay
strewn everywhere. In the alleyways a foot of coal-blackened
water washed and hissed over the hot steam-pipes lying there.
In my cabin amidships things were even wor-.e. Over a foot of
water washed in and out ovei' the ^ill into the alleyway with
every roll of tlic slii]). My trunk had Ijcen washed out of the
lower bunk and was floating I Slcc]:) thei-e ^vas impossible !
The wash of the water to and fro was itself like a miniature
storm !
]3elow decks things we"e just as l)ad. The engine-i'oom was in
a dcploi'able con(htion. As the Chinese iii'einen and wipers had
all desei'ted their posts, thei'c reDiained only the few white men
to cope with the }KM'ilc)u-^ ])Osition there. The ciigine-i'oom and
stokehold were ilooded. K\"(Ty sea the steamer shj|)ped ponied
tons of watci' 1)elow thi'ough the })rok<n sk\'!ights and the ()])vn
grating I'or'd of the i'lmnel. 'J'he lattci' was oui' only exit from
the amidshi]) fpiartei's. as both ends of liie alh yway had ]>een
Ijattc-ned down. T(.) ])''e\ent an (■x])losi<)n the iiix-. wc-re dra\\'n.
E\'c-n the [)hites of the stokeliojd were wa->h((l up by the quairtit\'
of water shipped and mo\'ed io and fio with e\'ery lurch of the
vessel. The bilges were full ; and to make matters worse the
ii8
A STORMY VOYAGE ACROSS THE PACIFIC
piiin])s on exainiiiatioi) were found to be useless, being elioked
by tlie aniouni of eoal dust that had been washed down
through the bunkers. This tlien was the position- — as well as my
pen ean desciibe it — in whieh we found ourselves when day
broke on tlie morning of the 24th of December.
At five o'clock that moi'ning I went on watch alone till ten
o'clock, relieving the seco]id officer ; our regular watches were
quite disoi-ganised. The storm had by now blown itself out, but
the seas wei'C still running mountains high and the ship was
rolling heavily.
By noon the engineei-s had repaired the broken rod and the
steering gear was put into woi-king order. Late in the day steam
was got up in one of the boilei's and the ship was bi'ought under
control. The seas were, however, still too high to permit us to
resume our westward course, so the ship was hove to. That
night was fairly fine, but the anxiety as to whether the steering
gear would stand the incessant strain of the big seas that were
running was with us the whole night. In ordei- to relieve the
strain and lessen the jerking we fixed running blocks and
tackles to the quadrant — a pi-ecaution it would have been wisei'
to have adopted before the accident !
By midnight the seas had modei'ated enough to allow us to
resume our course, though the engines were only put at half-
speed. Our progress was consequently slow.
The day — Christmas Day — ^broke dull and threatening.
Another serious trouble now confronted us. Owing to the con-
tinual rolling and lurching of the steamer the cargo in two of the
hatches had shifted considerably, listing the ship well over to
starboard. By noon she was listing fully seven degi-ees. Thei'e
was nothing to be done but open up the hatches and retrim the
sliifted cargo. To o])en up hatches while big seas were being con-
tinually shipped was a risk we had to run. The ever-increasing
list of the ship was a serious danger, one that might at any
moment be the cause of the vessel foundei'ing. Consequently the
best part of the day was spent under the hatches restowing the
sacks of flour. All hands, from the chief officer to the cook, were
119
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
engaged. The Chinese had by now recovered from their i'right
since the danger of foundering was for a time averted. By night-
time the ship was considerably straightened.
It was not, certainly,the most ideal way of spending the season
of Christmas ; we had, however, no alternative. My Christmas
fare consisted of some old salted pork — ^of very doubtful age—
with the luxury of a bottle of German beer. Salt junk was the
staple diet on board. Ratiojis of one tin of milk, two pounds of
sugar, and tea, had to last five of us in a mess for a week — of
course, it never did. We had also some tough Shanghai pigs on
board. Eating them in no way compensated us for the ungodly
row they raised in bad weather.
At daybreak on the following morning — Boxing Day — the
clattering of chains amidships and the ship falling off her course
informed us that once again the steei'ing gear had broken. I
was on watch at the time. A glance at the compass was enough !
Calling out all hands I rushed aft. In a moment I saw that the
repaired rod had again parted. Fortunately the mate had had
the foresight to leave in readiness the wire hawser ; so it was not
long before the rudder was securely lashed. Perceiving the use-
lessness of again repairing the rod we substituted in its stead a
length of wire rope. This answered rather too successfully, as the
strength of the wire threw exti'a strain on the chains round the
quadrant. In the night watch a link in one of these chains
snapped ; and — for the third time — the ship drifted helpless
before the wind. The link was repaired and for the third time
we endeavoured to continue our luckless voyage ! The old tramp
was a veritable '' coffin-sliij) "' ; overladen, ill-equipped, under-
manned^ — and yd she zvas 100 .i 1 at Lloyd's ! I wonder who was
the surveyor !
The Santolo certainly boi'c a charmed life. It was something
to have been adi'ift three times in the worst weather imaginable
and yet to be still afloat !
The idea of continuing our attempt to make the northern
])ass;ige through the Paeifie to Vladivo^toek in our present
battered eoiiditio]i was abandoned, despite the exhortations of
120
A STORIVIY VOYAGE ACROSS THE PACIFIC
the captain, who, poor devil, was anxious to make the speediest
voyage possible. It was Iiis first command. But it was obvious
to all that a few more days of similar battering about would be
the finish of the old steamer — doubtless to the great regret of the
owners ! I say this because it came to my ears that the ship was
to be sold to the Japanese for a sum considerably less than that
for which she was insured !
Our course was changed and we headed for Honolulu, in the
Hawaiian Islands, to put in for repairs.
The weather till the 29th kept moderately good — moderately,
in comparison with the weather we had been lately enjoying.
We made but poor progress, though, owing to the heavy seas
that were running- — the aftermath of the gales that had been
sweeping over these northerly waters. I would like to meet the
man who gave to this ocean the name of PACIFIC !
In the evening of that day a heavy gale from the south-east
sprung up. The seas soon got too high for us to proceed, and
again for some hours we were compelled to heave to. When
the storm abated and the seas had moderated to some extent
we resumed our course. Xot for long, liowever, as an even
stronger gale broke over the ship the following day. Again we
lay hove to for houi's ! During all this bad weather we had
with us the continual anxiety as to whether our patched-up
steering gear would stand the strain of the mountainous seas
that broke over the ship. We became nervous as cats. On watch
the sound of the fireman damping over the ashes would strike our
ears as the sound of steering chains unshipped ; and for a moment
our hearts would be in our mouths. Fortunately the gear held.
We all considered ourselves very lucky that we had come out of
the storm, and that the damage had been no worse. But we had
no wish to try the capricious kindness of Fate too much, for fear
she might take it into her head to withhold her helping hand on
the next occasion. With every storm the vessel met the cabins
amidships were flooded. The ship leaked like a sieve ! The
pumps were kept going more or less continuously the whole
voyage. The bilges and bi]gc-pum})s were now in order
121
A WANDERER'S TRAII>
again, tliougli not till alter sonic \Tr\' tr\ing woi'k for the
engineers.
On the last day of the year the weather eleared and the seas
modei-ated. We set our eourse south-west and rang down " full
s])eed " — for nearly the fu'st time sinee our departure.
Oiu' Oriental erew from the outset of the voyage had been
constantly giving trouble, quite apart from theii- mutinous
behavioui' whilst the shi]) was in distress. This day was marked
on our log as the occasion of an attempt on the life of the captain
by one of the ci-ew, who had been detected in the theft of some
of the ship's stoi'cs. The Chinaman was put in irons. He w-as
kept there for forty-eight hours and was only released because
he was the ship's cook. He had to thank liis unspeakable deputy
for the taking-off of the chains of justice, for as long as he was
in irons no one could get a decently cooked meal.
The only ill effect from the many days of exposure through
which I had passed was a sore throat. But seeing that since
leaving Ladysmith none of us had changed our daily soaked
clothes, or doffed our sea-boots for many liours, I felt I had
nothing much to complain about. I must confess though that
during these few days I felt I had received somewhat more experi-
ence than I cared for ; that the goddess of the shiine at which I
was dedicating my young life was hardly " playing the game."
I recalled that, during the time when I was on the Strathyre,
on many occasions — always in the fmc weather ! — I had secretly
wished for the ship to go ashoi'c in order to obtain the experience
of being shipwrecked. But on the Santolo. dming the few
days we were lying helpless and disabled in those tei-rifie seas
witfi every probability of being wrecked, my thoughts were of
quite a different order. I do hope I have not conveyed the im-
pression that during these days I was a little tin hero ; that I
stood on the bridge like a young Nelso]i, undismayed, fearless
and calm ! If I have — let me set mattci's right. When I caught
sight of some of those horrible green-crested wa\'es rolling
towards the old ti'ani]) adi'ift on the ocean I ^^'as far from
feeling undismayed, or calm, oi- feai'less. I will be quite candid.
122
A STORMY VOYAGE ACROSS THE PACIFIC
There was not much undismayed, calm and i'eai'less demeanour
about me when, on one occasion, I missed my footing and,
caught at tlie some moment by a big sea whieli cnme on board
unannounced, was swept to the i-ails, where, but for (jnetliin bar
to whieli I chmg like grim death with my feet in the water, I
liad been overboard!
The day of the Ncm' Year (1908) broke fiiie and sunny, as we
wei'e now getting into more southerly latitudes. We saw the
Old Year out on the bridge with a bowl of claret-cup. The light
winds and calm seas were most welcome to us after the days
of storms and gales, for we all felt that we had had our fill of
bad weather in that one week- — enouo-h to last us for the vovaffc.
Steaming south-west we sighted the Hawaiian Islands on the
evening of the 6th, when we entered the ti'opics. That evening
I witnessed perhaps the most perfect sunset I have ever seen at
sea. 3Iy diary records it in rather extravagant language :
" Gorgeous sunset — ^indesci-ibable by pen, unportrayable by
brush ! " The words were moi-e than true, for not even Turner
with his magic touch could have transferred to a canvas one-
tenth of those delicate tints and rich blending colours at which
I gazed for so many minutes spellbound.
We anehoied eai-ly in the morning in Honolulu, having stood
on ajid off from the island of Oahu during the night.
I had learnt before my arrival that the climate of the Hawaiian
Islands was nearly the finest in the world ; and I must say that
during the ten days or so that we lay at anchor in Honolulu it
fully lived up to the reputation. The sim shone all the time, the
heat of the day being tempci'cd by the cool trade breezes that
bhnv the year round.
The ai'rival of our steamer "in distress" at the Sandwich
Islands — a veritable oasis in the desert of the Pacific — furnished
the Yankee reporteis with plenty of material. Tliey had boarded
Us before oiu- mooring Wncs were made fast. Thrilling yains, and,
incidentally, thrilling lies also, appeared about our shi]) and our
ex"[)criences at sea in the following day's issue of the yellow rags
that wcvv tei'med Jiewspapers. Such lieadings as: "Thi'ce Days in
123
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Battle for Life ! " and: "Thrilling Tales of Distress at Sea ! "
were quite modei'ate in comparison with some of them. Yellow
journalism is in its prime in Honolulu. What a blend : yellow
journalism and the tropical paradise of Captain Cook's time !
Aftei' I'cpairs had started it was arranged to sell in Honolulu
as much of the cargo of flour as had been damaged by salt water.
It was also decided to dispose of the greater part of the consign-
ment of fresh fruit, which was now nearly ripe, as we calculated
that a full month would elapse before the steamer could reach
Vladivostock. By that time the fruit would all have perished.
Before discharging any cargo, howevc]-, we had first to obtain
by cable the pei'mission of the American authorities at Washing-
ton, the reason for this being that we had loaded the cargo in
American ports, and Honolulu being territory of the U.S.A.
it was consequently against the regulations to land there any
cargo or passengers. But in view of the peculiar circumstances,
cable permission was soon forthcoming, and the discharge of
the cargo took place.
At this port, as in America, the same immigration regula-
tions were in force regarding the entry of Asiatics. I was
consequently on night watch to pi-event any of the crew ab-
sconding, though the risk of this was not so great as when in
America since the ship lay at anchor in the bay, there being
practically no wharf accommodation at all in Honolulu. Being
on night watch I had consequently the day to myself. After
a sleep till noon I used to spend most of my time ashoi-c, visiting
some of the pretty spots in the island. Tiirough the judicious
disposal of a few old clothes to a Kanaka boatmaii I was able to
j'aise a few dollars, which was the ojily money in my ])ossession,
as I was vmfortunately not in receipt of any wages on board the
steamer ; I was merely working my passage.
ludispctisable as Western iirtun'ations undoubtedly are, they
certainly seemed out of ])laee in the island^ of Hawaii, ^fy fertile
imagination, fed on stories of C!a})tain Cook, had eonjui'cd up
lovely scenes of dusky maidens sitting under palm-trees waiting
for eo(;oanuts to f;i,]l, etc. Instead of these I fouiul tramears,
124
.,-.„-,.:a
i\' il r 1 1
A STORMY VOYAGE ACROSS THE PACIFIC
yellow newspapers and Japanese coolies. Japanese coolies
seemed to be more nmiierous in these islands than anybody else,
barring the aborigine Kanaka, who, however, is fast dying out.
It suggests an amusing, not to say peculiar, situation in the
event of war breaking out between the owners of the island,
the Americans, and the chief inhabitants, the Japanese.
Doubtless these latter take more than neighbourl3' interest
in the im})rovcments that are being effected in the fortifications
at Pearl Harbour in Oahu Island. In fact it was rumoured,
though I cannot confirm it, that the Japanese objected to certain
material being used by the Americans in parts of these forts,
because they, anticipating a more or less early "moving-in,"
did not consider it was the best material for the purpose !
Whilst I was making my daily prowls round the island our
steamer was having a new steering gear put in, its broken boats
Avere being repaired and the wrecked deckwork lenovated — all
at the expense of that seemingly generous institution, Lloyd's !
The new steering gear that was put in at no expense to the ship
only replaced one worn out and depreciated by wear ; not one
wrecked by the " act of God." New boat-covers were supplied
the ship to replace those lost whilst " in distress at sea." I had
never seen them before the distress at sea ; but still ! I w^as sorry
afterwards that I had not put in a claim for my old pair of
dungarees that saw their last during " distress at sea." What a
nice thing it is to be 100 A 1 at Lloyd's !
Just prior to our departure from Honolulu we had serious
trouble with our Chinese crew. On our arrival we had reported
to the authorities their mutinous behaviour at sea ; for this they
had been " logged " a month's pay — -a very light punishment.
The Orientals on the other hand had alleged to their Consul
cruelty on our part ; but their allegations were disregaixled.
Daily affrays occurred, and one incident, for which I unfortun-
ately was responsible, brouglit matters to a head. The mess-room
boy omitted to call me at noon (after my night watch), and on
my reprimanding him for his neglect became cheeky, whereupon
I rather hastily ejected him from the mess-room with my boot.
125
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
The Chinaman picked up a laiiic and dui'ing the seuffle that
ensued he got a few nasty knocks and I a i-ippcd-0])en coat. This
incident, tJiough triliiiig and not unusual, was unfortunately
witnessed by a Kanaka boatman, who informed some of the
Yankee i-e])ortei\s ashore. Next day wc read sensational headings
in the Yellow Pj-css : "" Shocking Affray on Boaid the Santolo —
CJiinese Consul going on Board to investigate Alleged Cruelty ! "
and so on. The latter ])ai't of this heading was ap])arently correct,
for the Chinese CojlsuI ditl put in an appearance the following
morning. I went ashoie ! On investigation the Consul I'emarked
to the captain that he was sorry that only two-inch rubber
packing liad been used (one of the crew's allegations was that
they had been struck by the oflieers and cjigineers with rubber
})aeking) instead of four-inch. With regard to the incident with
which 1 was concerned the captain infoiincd the Consul of the
facts of the case. The mess-room boy also had no ])igtail ! That
was enough ! I was fully exonei'ated, the Consul remarking,
after havijig scuttled my accuser from the cabin : " He fully
deserved all he got ! "
As though the troubles of the old tram]) weie not yet sulheient,
we were delayed by the United States authorities seizing the
steamer on tlie eve of de])arture pending the .settlement of a
suit brought against her by a former dismissed engineei- claiming
foi- unpaid Avages. The lirst intimation I ol)taiued of this wa,s by
linding on my leturn fiom shoi'c a deputy ])ati'()lling the decks,
and o])serving a small riotiee ])in]U'd on to tlu^ mainmast inform-
ing all ])ersons to the effect that anyone fouiid taking away any
])art of the Sant'do would be !ial)le to the U.S.A., etc. Beyond
Avondei'ing who would be so foolish as to ^vaste his \ ime in taking
away any ))art of that old tram]) 'he mattei' woiried me little.
The ease was tried and the N'eidict ^vas gi\c'ri in faA'our of the
shi]); but theeaplain was adx iscd to set He the luatler by]);iying
up to avoid fuithei' delay. The matter was eloped bva j^aytneirfc
of two hundic-d aud lil'ty dollars. The ])ayiueiit of this siiui of
money, together with the cost of the shi]> being detained for two
extia da\'s, must Imw aiuouided to ncaily one hundred pounds.
Tib
A STOIOIY VOYAGi: ACROSS THE PACIFIC
Even to-day I cannot quite refrain from a sardonic chuckle
when I picture the owners' faces on receiving, instead of the
terrible news '"'' Santolo reported missing," only a pile of bills !
Noon of the 18th January saw the Saiitolo sail proudly out of
the harbour of Honolulu ; and half-an-hour after noon saw the
old tramp again broken down ! The pilot had just left us when
the second engineer came on the bridge with the unwelcome
information that the engines of the steamer (100 A 1 at Lloyd's !)
were disabled ; and, incidentally, that the chief engineer was
lying drunk in his cabin ! I could not but feel soj'ry for the young
captain on this first connnand of his having such innumerable
troubles ; they were enough indeed to try a far more experienced
man. But the German sailor is no chicken-hearted type of
mail and our young captain was no exception. Then and there
lie disrated the drimken engineer, promoting the second engineer
to the position of chief. After a period of six houj-s lying anchored
just outside the harbour the engines were repaired and we set
oiir course north-west. Just one more untoward incident occurred
before we had seen the last of the islands. Whilst heaving up
the anchor the flukes dropped overboard, the connecting pin
having parted consumed by the rust of years. Had not the ship
been sold to the Japanese (a nice, new, skilfully disguised icoodcn
pair of flukes being substituted), Lloyd's, doubtless, would
have been generous enough to supply us with a new anchor !
]\rerc trifles such as this we noAV legarded as of no impor-
tance. ^Ve were quite prepaicd to see the funnel roll over-
l)Ourd. In J'act, during tliis second ])art of the voyage we were
compelled daily to tighten u}) the stays that supported the
sJiioke -stack.
We kei)t fair weatlier \vith us till four days after leaving the
islands, when, getting into moi'c nortlicj'ly latitudes, signs of
apj)roaehing bad weather were soon visi])k'. After one strong
soutli-cast gale had Ijattered us about we decided to sneak
away south again. Our course ^vns changed to west by south.
The Jicw steering gear that had been ])ut in was now the
somec of fresh anxiet}" ; for, being new and consequently strong,
127
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
it threw an ususual and extra strain on the sheaves amidships
which, we found to our dismay, w'cre being slowly dragged from
out of the decks. Lashings were consequently fastened to prevent
this happening and one by one the old bolts were taken out and
replaced by new ones. The old bolts, once seven-eighths of an
inch, were worn and rusted in their centre to less than three-
eighths of an inch ! And yet the Santolo was 100 A 1 at Lloyd's !
Once more the ship's decks were littered with lashings. The
j-unning bridge w^liich connected the amidship-quarters with
the poop — over the aft' well deck — had to be lashed securely to
the ship's side, as the seas that continually struck it were slowly
forcing it from its supports. At night-time, particularly on dark
nights, it was just about as nmch as one could do to cover the
length of the decks without breaking one's neck over the blocks
and tackles that lay here, there, and everywhere. About the only
parts that were not lashed were the two sides of the steamer.
Steaming south and west we ran again into more moderate
weather. A week out from Honolulu we were delayed for a few
more hours, our engines again breaking down. But what were a
few hours to us already weeks late ? The day following — the
26th — ^my diary reads: "Did not live to-day; crossed the
180° meridian ! " ^
During the three following days we I'an again into extremely
bad 'weather, a sci-ies of gales and violent squalls coming up from
all directions to meet the ship. On the 29th we were hove to
for nearly twelve hours ; our log for that day registered under
ni]rety miles. We were " staiiding by " most of that night, as
we feared that at any moment something would carry away, or
lliat one of the hatches would be stove in under the onslaught
of the tremendous seas that struck the ship. At daybreak the
bleak a]ul awful expanse of J'aging seas that met our eyes, the
Diountainous waves at which we would gaze u]), each appearing
as though it would break clear over the shi]), struck a chill in
^ i8o' I'2. is twelve liours aliead of Greenwich time ; i8o° W. is twelve
hours behinch irencc, from iSo" K. to i8o° W. the time will be ahead
t\s'eiity-four iiuurs — one complete day.
128
A STOIIMY VOYAGP: ACROSS THE PACIFIC
all our hearts. We remained hove to all that day. When the
groaning and ereaking of beams and stanchions would sound
more ominously than usual in our eai-s, as the ship was riding
some of those tremendous seas, the thought that the old tramp
might at any moment break hci- back flashed through our minds.
But the Santolo behaved splendidly ; she was indeed a credit to
her builders. Though nearly three decades old, she was a far
better sea-boat than some of the thin-plated tramps designed
to-day. Good material was used in the building of the old
Santolo ; any Meak spot would soon have been discovered in the
weather she buttled with for days on end during that voyage.
Just before dark we passed the U.S.A. transport Thomas,
eastward bound. She was also, we could see from our decks,
labouring heavily in the seas and making but poor progress.
Towards evening the gale seemed to culminate in one squall of
terrific f ui'y. For ten minutes the wind blew with huri-icanc force ;
torrential rains swept the decks ; vivid lightning flashed and
heavy biu'sts of thunder crashed. It then ceased almost suddenly,
and the glass rose perceptibly.
SloAvly the Santolo struggled on, daily battered by storms and
gales, though we kept as far south as avc could. Our poor progress
now began to raise in our mijids the sickening thought that wc
might run short of coal before Ave could reach Japan — the
nearest land. This thought gi'owing, we experimented with sacks
of flour mixed with cinders to sec if we could save our coal ;
but the result was not promising. On the 5th of Februaiy wc
fourid ourselves six liundred miles from Yokohama and eight
hundred juiles from ^luroran, the latter port being a small
coaling place in the nortl) island of Japan, where the steamer liad
arranged to bunker. We Avere in a regular quandary. If such
weathei' continued and we made no better progress than we
had iji the last ten days, we had barely sufficient coal in om-
bunkers to reach Yokohama. And to go into juoi-e northerly
latitudes ^vith the chance of encountering even worse weather
to Muroran, some two hundred miles farther off, seemed mad-
ness. Yet to go to Yokohama was a course the captain Avas
I 129
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
naturally loth to adopt, for there the price of coal would be
considerably higher as he had no contract ; and it was also
much out of our direction. At this juncture the captain fell ill
and the mate took command. For a day or two we postponed
our decision and kept on our southerly course. The weather
seemed to grow even worse. Driving gales and storms came up
to meet us from every quarter. In fact, witliin forty-eight hours
a full cyclonic movement of the wind would be completed. The
movement would start with a gale from the south-west ; the
wind would then veer round to the noith, from whence it would
blow hard. Blowing itself out in this direction it would then shift
to the eastward and blow hard from the north-east. A few hours
afterwards it would be round again in the south. This is an
extract from my diary for the 3rd February : " Wind S.E.,
moderate gale with high seas. In the afternoon watch —
high confused sea running ; heavy rainfall, with squalls almost
of hurricane force. Stormy night — ' hove to ' all night from
noon." This w^as nearly a typical day's entry in the ship's log
since we left Honolulu. It is hard to convey in a few words a
description of the bad weather that we had daily w'ith us then.
In no other ocean — M'hether in the North Atlantic in mid-
winter or in a heavy monsoon in the China Seas — have I ever
experienced such terrific weather as we met in that winter
of 1907-1908 in the Pacific. ^ I relate just one instance which
may convey a slight idea of the force and height of some
of the seas that swept the heavily laden steamer. A big sea
struck us on our starboard quai'ter. It swept the bridge ; hurled
both the quartermaster at the wheel and myself to the deck
which foi- nearly five minutes was running a foot in water ;
and ha if -wrecked the wheel-house smashing the windows to
fiTigments.
On tlie 8th we liud seventy-five tons of coal left, barely four
days' steaming power, and Ave were four hundred miles from
Muroran, and lialf tliat distance from Yokohama. As the weather
seemed elianging slightly for tlie better we decided ^o risk it ;
^ It lb Oil record that this v/mlcr \',ds the wcrsi ior twenty-five years.
I JO
A STORMY VOYAGE ACROSS THE PACIFIC
and our course was changed to north-west by north. We were
hoping against hope that when under the lee of the Japanese
coast we should be more sheltered and make better progress.
This was fortunately the case ; for in the afternoon of the day
following our change of course we sighted in the distance the
snow-clad hills of Japan— a very welcome sight ! Steaming north
and west the weather grew very cold, the north wind being keen
and piercing. Towards night it grew colder still, snow and sleet
squalls blinding us on watch. To be on watch in the tropics is
a very different matter to pacing a snow-covered bridge with
an icy wind piercing one's vitals, when ropes and rigging are
frozen stiff and the decks covered with icicles.
Skirting the shelteriiig coast of Japan we entered the Straits
of Hakodate early on the morning of the 10th, and anchored off
the port of ]\Iuroran shortly afterwards. We had on our arrival
less than twenty tons of coal in the bunkers. Had it not been
that we had experienced comparatively good weather since sight-
ing the shores of Japan, I fear to contemplate the position in
which we should have found ourselves — adrift in those seas !
The voyage from Ladysmith to Muroran had taken us a period
of exactly fifty days, instead of the nineteen days estimated
when we started the northern passage. It had brought to all of
us one series of incessant troubles and privation and had been
to me as startling as the preceding trip round South America
had been uneventful. I think I saw more in that one trip than if
I had been going to sea steadily for a period of seven years.
As may be imagined it was not without a feeling of regret that
I said auf zviedersehen to the old ship and my shipmates. When I
saw the last of the old Santolo fading in the distance I did feel
proud of her, of the gallant way she had battled storms and gales
for weeks, and had won through the long series of disasters
that had befallen her.
With the good wishes of my late companions I set my feet on
Japan's hospitable shores on the 11th of February. I liad three
shillings in my pocket.
131
CHAPTER X
IMPRESSIONS ()]• JAPAN AND TIIK JAF'ANESE
BMFORK ihe Santolo's avnxixX at the sliores of Japan I
IkuI p]aiincd in saiiguiiic moments to walk to Sapporo,
a town in the centre of Hokkaido — about seventy miles
or so north of ~Muroj-an. Here I reTnembeved that a Japanese
f I'iend of mine whom I had known well in London was stationed.
The sio'ht, however, of three or four feet of snow on the grouiid
when I left the ship I'ather damped my ardour, to say nothino- of
my feet ; but the sight of telephones was a considerable I'clief,
and made me gratefid for once to the inroads of Western
civilisation in Japan.
I telc])honed my fi'iend to bori'ow ten yen to enable me to
get to Tokio. \vhei'e I counted on a few pounds awaiting ]ue
(Christmas letters being due). As I expected, my sympathetic
friend did foi- me all that I asked and instructed the branch
ollice from whei'e I was tele})honingto advance me what I needed
for my ex])enses south. The courteous jigcjit at Muroran could
not do enough for me. Hesides providing me Avith the funds I
requiied against my I.O.U., he set himself out to entertain me
most royally during my short stay ; and I snw in his com])nny
the little town of ^Nfuroran. whei-e I gained some of my first
])leasaiit iiii])i'essions of Jaj>an and of Ja})aiiese hos})italit\'.
\A'ith him I ate my lirst Japanese dinnei-. At this first dinner
of iiiiju; I made a, distincf jauir ])as\ if that ex])ression really
rightly (lescril)es it. I must lirst meiifioii that for most of the
time whilst on the Saidolo I had been in ihe habit of wearing
1 wo ])airs of socks under ni\- sea-boots, wjiich let in the water
rathei- badly. These four socks which F would pick up hap-
liazai'd - genei'ally in Ihe dai'k— -were all more or less of different
IMPRESSIONS OF JAPAN— THE JAPANESE
colour. On leaving" the steamer I considered, as tliere was so
nuich snow on the ground, that my sea-boots would be the very
things to wear ; but when donning them I forgot to substitute
a decent pair of socks for the Santolo pairs.
Without any misgivings then as to the correctness of my gai'b
I sailed gaily off to my Japanese dinnei'. The universal custom
in Japan, as no doubt my j-eader knows, demands that one takes
off one's shoes before entering the house to avoid soiling tlie
delicate tatami. Of this I was not then aware, o]- had forgotten
— I canTiot quite recall now. On my arrival, anyway, my
Japanese host informed me of his country's custom in this
]'cgard. Tr was not till I began tugging off one of my heavy sea-
boots that the first misgivings shot through me as to whether
my socks wei'C de rigueur or not. The fii'st sock or socks appeared.
They would have just about passed in a crowd with a series of
discreet movements, but I had inward qualms that the other
ones would not so successfully pass muster. Alas ! my fears were
only too true ! For when those socks appeared to light, not only
were they of a different colour and texture, but also iuuch of
the texture of the socks was not there !
I felt slightly foolish, to say the least ; though I manfully
cjideavoured to maintain my composure and sense of dignity,
which was hard to do with those socks, or parts of them at least,
staring me in the face. I endeavoured further to insimiate that
it was a hobby of mine to appear thus shod. But the effort seemed
to fall somewhat flat ; my Japanese host, to put it mildly,
appeared sceptical. I avoided throughout the dinner any
unseemly display of those sea-socks, and they in no way inter-
fered with my enjoyment of that very pleasant evening — my
fu'st in Japan.
Many things in this part of Japan struck me then as very
quaint, Western civilisation having but slightly altered the
conditions of life. I was fortunate in obtaining here, just on my
entry to the country, a glimpse of the old Japan which is so
quickly passing away to give place to the Japan of the twentieth
century. I always feel that visitors to Japan should try to enter
133
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
the country anywhere but at the treaty ports in order to obtain
true and accurate first impressions of the land they are visiting.
First impressions mean so- much — at least to my mind — and for
strangers to enter Japan at Kobe or Yokohama cannot but give
them an untrue impression of the country. It would perhaps
not be so bad if the visitor realised that fact and refrained
from giving expression to distorted and crude impressions. Un-
fortunately this is seldom done. Imagine a Chinaman dwelling
in Limehouse writing his views of England ; the result would
be about as edifying as is the average tourist's book on Japan.
The first thing that struck me was the courtesy and cleanliness
of the Japanese. Everyone, from the merchant to the sampan
coolie, seemed the essence of courtesy^ — and, what is more, was
so. As for their cleanliness, even the coolie took his two hot baths
a day. The subservience of the women to the men was, too, very
noticeable.
Everybody, I observed, seemed to smoke, chiefly cigarettes
and little pipes that hold a pinch of tobacco and after two puffs
of smoke are fmished. The sound of the geta ^ on the hard frosty
roads was continually causing me to turn round, thinking a horse
was trotting behind me ; and the sight, too, of strong men and
dainty women hopping over the ground was curious then.
A twelve hours' passage across the Straits of Hakodate
brought me to Aomori, a little port on the north coast of the
island of Nippon. It was very cold and nmch snow was lying
on the ground. All the shops and houses looked very quaint and
picturesque in their white coats. My presence in this place
attracted a considerable amount of curiosity, the appearance
of foreigners in this part of Japan apparently being still an un-
usual sight. Crowds of little toddlers followed me in bands ; they
stopped if I stopped, moved on if I did. Even the grown-ups were
nearly as bad as their little ones in this respect. There was,
however, no hostile staring ; but Just the same curious sort of
gaze that a gorilla walking down Regent Street would attract
from those in the road.
' Japanese footwear.
134
IMPRESSIONS OF JAPAN -THE JAPANESE
As the snow was very thick on the ground sleighs were in
much use, my luggage being brought from the steamer to the
railway station in one of these conveyances.
The train for Tokio started at ten o'clock in the morning.
The view one obtained as the train sped south was mostly of
little groups of roofs half buried under the snow. We reached
Sendai, a fairly large city, late in the evening. The journey
was rather tiring as I was travelling on a slow train on
which there were no sleeping cars. I managed, though, to
snatch a few hours' sleep during the night, but was not sorry
to leave the train on our arrival at Uyeno station — the Euston
of Tokio.
To be candid, my first impressions of Tokio were disappointing.
It was not the capital's fault I'm sure ; they were due to the
erroneous ideas and conceptions I had formed beforehand, my
imagination having been fed on the false pictures drawn by
writers of the couleiir de rose school.
In Tokio I gained my living as an English teacher. The task
of teaching English in Japan is not a very difficult one. It is,
however, a rather tiring occupation. The one qualification
necessary is tact.
Discipline in Japanese schools is very lax. It is no exaggera-
tion to say that the student virtually rules the school. His power
is ridiculously great. Should a class dislike a teacher, they either
boycott him, or they boldly proceed en masse to the scliool
authorities and demand his dismissal. And the almost inevitable
result is the teacher's dismissal ! To the authorities the only
guarantee of the efficiency of a teacher is a full class-room.
Needless to mention, I was an efTicient teacher ; for my class-
room was always full. That is why I say the only qualification
needed was tact.
Though my experience was confined to only one term, I was
able to gain a fair insight into Japanese educational methods,
with which, to be frank, I was by no means impressed. So far as
I could see, higher education in Japan meant nothing much more
than the successful acquirement of a superficial smattering of
iJ5
A WAXDEREll'S TRAIL
knowledge. The Japanese universities and higher scliools are
turning out yearly thousands of graduates in the shape of
ignorant and sujierfieially trained young men. Few are younger
than twenty-three, tlie bulk about twenty-six ; and more than
one over thirty. Witli but few execptions all of them go to swell
the I'anks of unskilled labour.
The task the Japanese student has before him in order to
graduate from any of the pi'incij)al imiversities and higher
cdueational institutions is not so nuieh that of absorbing the
necessary knowledge to pass out as that of memorisiyig the
lleee^sal•y data. The foi'iner task is seldom aeeomplished ; the
latter feat seems the only essential in the eyes of the Jajjanese
edueational world. Whilst doing this the student dissipates
five or more of his most valuable years — ^and health !
The sacrihec of health is enormous. The unhealthy appearance
of the average student I met in Tokio, so often bespeetaeled at
an early age, testifies only too faithfully to the truth that the
youth of Japan is steadily burning the candle at both ends. The
early deaths of so many of them, tlie steady deterioration in the
nation's ])hysique, is. I think, mainly due to this high pressui'e
of education, coupled with an insufficiency of nourishing food.
In the Consci'iption Levy of 1911 three himdred and niiiety-
seven recruits were rejected out of one thousand ; and only
forty per cent, were })assed as physically fit. Consumption is
increasing and the death-i-ate rising.
This, then, is the toll modern education is demaiidiiig fi-om
Japan, the true meaning of which she seem> to \v,i\q altogethci'
lost sight of in her desiic to be up-to-date.
Some extiaets from a letter I wrote to my brother fi'om
Japan after some months' residence in Tokio may be of
interest :
"Saizoix Teiniple. TERAMAcni. Tokio.
"15^/^ July 1908.
" AIv DEAR I^RXEST. — Mv last cpistlc gavc you a detailed
account nf mv ex]jci'iciic(s as a saik^r in a " coinn-^hi])." This
136
IMPRESSIONS OF JAPAN— THE JAPANESE
one is to be an attempt to describe to you my life, my doings
and my impressions in the land of tlie Rising Sun.
"Firstly, as to my residences of which I have had a great
number. I have tried most places, from a boarding-house in
Kandabashi^ — tlie student quarter of Tokio- — at Yl.50 (3s.) per
day, to a room over a greengrocer's shop, or its Japanese equi-
valent, in the outskirts of the city at Yl.OO a day. This of course
included food a la Japonnais — ever\i;liing, from stewed octopus
to raw seaweed. All, however, were too expejisive for my frugal
means, for I am saving to go to Korea and Manchuria. Hence
my present abode — a Buddhist temple, which when all is said
and done is as good a d\vclling as any in which I have yet laid
my head. And iL is very peaceful. I pay thirteen yen a month,
which being interpreted into English coin of the realm is 26s.
This sum includes a Japanese breakfast {asameslii) and suppei-
{bamaeshi). You may possibly conclude from this letter that I
am by now a fluent Japanese scholar. Far from so ; but I have
;icquired just enough of the colloquial language to get about, and
to make my extra stupid nesan (servant girl) understand the
Jiecessity to take away my dij-ty linen to the wash instead of
sending the few clean shirts I still possess. Some of the lower
classes in Japan do not seem too richlyendowed with intelligeiice.
"Well, here am I at the present moment writing you this lettei',
seated like the Sultan of Turkey, or as near the uncomfortable
position as I can get, in the back rooin of a Buddhist temple,
facing a rather pretty little pond in which big goldfish are
swimming about. I offendetl the old guardian of the temple
yesterday by suggesting I woidd like one of those fine, fat fish
fried for my breakfast. The sense of humour in some of the
inhabitants of the land is not what you would call highly de-
veloped. The old priest and I are great pals, none the less. I
walk into the temple whenever I please, though of course I pay
the same respect that I would to a church. The old chap reminds
me of the smug parson at home — has a nice soft job and doesn.'t
care whether it snows ! Buddhism in Japan to-day seems to me
to stand in the same relation to the intellectual Japanese as
^37
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
our modern dogmatic Christianity does to the intellectual public
of the West.
" I am giving up seeking for romance in Japan ! Only the re-
sonant and sonorous boom of my temple bell bi-eaking on some
of my solitary hours affects me sentimentally. It has a practical
use, however, as it wakes me up in the early morning. Funeral
ceremonies, too, now and then break on the quiet calm of my
home.
"Romance in Japan is a false alarm. Lafcadio Hearn in his
books supplied himself the romance he attributed to this country
from his own acutely sensitive imagination. All his beautifully
tinted pictures were false ; and before he died he realised the
fact. Fifty years ago there may have been lomance in Japan.
I cannot find it to-day ; though I am always looking. Instead I
find a hybrid land with a hybrid people. Always I am saying to
myself now — I am born fifty years too late ! Everywhere I have
yet gone I have met the one companion who is ever faithful —
Disillusion ! Fancy coming to Japan for romance !
" If you came to this land to learn how to get rich quickly ;
if you came to find beautiful spots desecrated by the ugliest
specimens of twentieth-century ideals — advertisements !; if you
came, I say, for such purposes, brother mine, then you will find
what you seek — here !
"Cannot you imagine the despair and the almost murderous
hatred that must be in the hearts of the old Japan-Japanese
towards the West, when he sits and sadly gazes on what is — in
the eyes of the West — the material progress of Japan, but in his
eyes the slow decay of his country and of his countrymen ; the
slow death of the nation's ideals and honour ; the slow passing
away of the Japan of wliicli he was a part. I sometimes wonder
whether Japan fifty years hence will not curse the day that she
chose to become a first-class power and miserable and did not
remain a sixth-class power and happy. But I suppose the change
was inevitable. Evolution must go on.
" lam now a Professor— we are all professors in this land — a
teacher of English in one of the Tokio universities and in some
i'.8
IMPRESSIONS OF JAPAN— THE JAPANESE
of the schools. I am secretly rather proud of a letter I have
just received addressed to Professor Arthur Ridger, Esq.
That's me !
" To teach in Japanese schools you must not drop more than
three ' h's ' in one sentence ; further, if your students do not
want to work, or to learn English, you must on no account
attempt to persuade them. To do so is a breach of etiquette,
as they might get quite offended, which would mean an empty
class-room, and incidentally the sack — a thing to be avoided.
A master's position here rests on the verdicts of his students !
" I had at first some difficulty in getting a position owing to
my arrival in the middle of a term, and I had only three pounds
left between me and starvation when I obtained the billets I
now hold. I received numerous promises amounting in salary
to somewhere near a thousand yen a month. The jobs that
materialised from these promises bring me in Y150 per month —
a slight difference ! This is a great country for promises !
" I get on very well with all my students. They are very diligent
and hard-working and extremely courteous ; but, poor devils,
they are shockingly overworked. The whole country is educa-
tion mad, and the teachers, system mad ! The schools are turning
out thousands of crammed youths, crammed with unassimilated
facts and data ; crammed youths, physically weakened and
mentally stupefied ! This is what modern ' Education ' is doing
for Japan : modern ' Education ' that Ruskin says, ' for the
most part signifies giving people the faculty of thinking wi'ong
on every conceivable subject of importance to them.'
" I never attempt to ask the students to prepare any work for
me beforehand. I only try, by interesting them, to get them to
speak English as much as possible. As it is, the conversation of
the class is generally limited to one or two of the clever students,
the bulk remaining silent.
"I teach in the mornings only ; and now and then in the
evenings. My afternoons I spend in the dojo (wrestling hall)
practising judo, or jujutsu, as it is more popularly known at
home. I am still as keen as ever I was in London, for the exercise,
139
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
apart from its other aspects, is so splendid. I am now the proud
possessoi- of the browii belt. Olr ! that I were a black belt.^
"Duri]ig my unoeeiipied cveniiigs I pro^^■l round the streets
and byways of Tokio, watching the goings-on and doings of the
))ees in the busy hive. One gets in this way a good insight into
the inner life of a country. One learns thus more of the customs,
ideas and sentiments of the inhabitants of this country in six
moiiths than does the average resident in Yokohama in six
years.
''I have visited Yokohama a few times. Beyond seeing the
way the ' Tired Titans of Coimnei'ce ' — i.e. the residents of that
treaty poit — spend tlieir time and money I have not seen nmch
to attract me. It is a hybrid town : half-foreign and half-
Japanese. It is on these poj-ts that the inane drivel you must
have read in so jnany books is based by their authors. The
Japanese, in my opinion, arc very unwise not to I'calise the
harm done by these books. They still welcome them ; but they
will learn !
•'I thought befo]-e I came to this country that every other
woman was shameless. Having lived here six months I honestly
think there is no more immorality in Japan than thei'e is in any
other counti'y ; at least, I have not yet observed it if there is.
Thci'c is, however, certainly fai' less mock-modesty in Japan
than there is in the West. But that is a matter for comnuiidation
rather than condemnation. This openness and lack of false shame
is a good sign, and one that suggests a healthy mora! atmosphere.
Another fallacy I have detected is tli;!i evei'v geisha is a woman
of easy virtue.
'• If you were to ask me what I thought of the Jajiancsc I could
not for the life of me tell you. At eleven in the jnorning I might
tell you ' Oh, splendid people ! " At noon I mighl say : ' Heavens !
don't ask me ! ' The country is sim])ly full of different
types of peo])le ; it is impossible to gejieralisc. You will go
along and meet a ehai'ining Japanese wlio will be so kind and
sympathetic to you — -a young stranger in his laiid — that you
' ^eL■ Cluiplrr X I.
140
IMPRESSIONS OF JAPAN THE JAPANESE
will feel ready to guarantee the nation. And you will then go
another hundred yards and meet, perhaps, one of the worst
types of Japanese the new regime has produced — and some of
them are pretty bad ! To give you an instance of the latter :
'"A little time back I called on one man, an English-speakijig
Japanese and a teacher of some ability in a night-school, though
his students were, I should imagine, chiefly of the 'rickshaw-
coolie type. I approached him for a billet ; but all I could extract
from him were his inflated ideas of his knowledge of English and
of his importance in his own eyes. I let him go on for a little.
He sho>ved me some awful doggerel he had written, thinking it
poetry ; but when lie told me that he had a gi-eater acquaintance
of English than had the average Britisher, I lost all patience —
and then and there let rip all I thought of him and all I didn't.
There are limits ! Between you and me I was half inclined to
agree with him as regards his statement about loiowing more
P^nglish than the average Britisher ; for we egregious English
know more about football than the intricacies of our language.
It was the poetry, however, that got on my nerves. I will give
you two lines of it : one though will be more than enough !
' To arms ! To arms ! The foemen come,
The foemen come to make it hum ! -
•' I might just add that I didn't get a billet in that school.
"Thus, you see, life in Japan is such a mixture and so
com})lex that you barely know yom- mind from one day's end to
another. Still on the whole the Japanese are a very human and
delightful jx'ople ; and, certainly, so far as I am concerned they
Ijavc been evei'ything that is nice and kiiid to me.
"Despite this, if ever I write about the Japanese, I will not
deuionsti'atc my gratitude for kindnesses received by donning
the cloak of Ananias, by lavishing fulsome flattery on their heads
and by magnifying theij- vii'tues. I will pen what I think is the
ti'uth : and by so doing I shall accomplish some little good — if
only by preventing the inevitable disappointment that awaits
the visitor, who for the most })art imagines Japan to be a
141
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
fairyland peopled by a race of demigods, instead of a very
human land with a very human people. No country has been
more lied about than Japan !
" That the Japanese are a patient and long-suffering people you
would not doubt for a moment if you saw the awful state of
overcrowding that daily goes on in the trams of Tokio. I really
think that the directors of the tram company must be fossils of
the Shogun Age. Day after day, month after month, the same
disgraceful state of affairs goes on— a discredit to a large city
like Tokio. Trams, mostly the size of hen-roosts, pass by one
crowded from the front to the back with people hanging on to the
rails by tlieir eyebrows, always leaving behind a little group of
weary souls whij eventually give up hope and plod home on foot ;
or, if they can afford it, by 'rickshaw. But money is not so
plentiful to-day in this land of depression and taxes ! The
patience of the crowded-up passengers and the smiling courtesy
and long-sufferance of the little conductor, as he collects the
fares, are so admirable ! If I were one of them it would not be
long before I engineered a strike and got those obsolete fossil-
headed directors out of their fat jobs. But the worm will turn
yet ! God help Japan when it does ; for she will need help !
Bureaucracy and Imperialism ^ are being overdone ; and when
the pendulum starts to swing back there will be trouble.
"A newspaper here has paid me £lO for the extract of my
diary from London to Tokio, and they are writing up a serial
story of which I'm the hero. It swells my little capital, as also
my head. The former now amounts to five hundred yen — I don't
convert it into pounds as it sounds more in yen. I have not
earned quite all of it, for a sporting birthday present from Mr
T has helped to swell it to the huge proportions it has now
attained. It's to take me to Korea and Manchuria.
"A little time ago I passed the newspaper ofhce, where I saw
the hrst issue of the serial story they are making out of my diary
exhibited on the placard outside. ^ly photograph was there
also. Quite a little crowd of admiring Japanese was around. I
' See Chapter XL By Imperialism I mean Emperor-worship
142
IMPRESSIONS OF JAPAN— THE JAPANESE
looked at the paper — it was in Japanese so I couldn't read it —
and I looked at the people. Then in an awed whisper to myself
I said : ' Here is fame at last ! ' Having reached in my mind
the point where there seemed nothing much more worth living
for, a sympathetic friend informed me of the contents. There-
upon I fled and hid my face for shame. Out of the brief
extracts of my diary concerning my departure, which consisted
of the date I left England and of the date that I arrived at St
Vincent Island, the reporter had written three columns, contain-
ing everything from my sobbing in the arms of the captain on
leaving home to falling overboard and swallowing a shark, or the
shark swallowing me, I forget w^hich. I have practised judo from
then even more steadily than before ; for I am looking for that
reporter.
" I have received one or two letters from young Japanese from
various parts of the country as a result of these newspaper
articles. One of these letters informed me that the writer felt
himself inspired by the account of my thrilling doings, and
suggested that I should take him with me. It was rather an
amusing request seeing how I am situated ; but, poor youngster,
I fully sxinpathised with him, knowing myself full well what
wanderlust will make you do.
" Strange to say I have not yet felt one earthquake since I have
been in Japan. The country is not living up to its reputation.
It may be, however, that I sleep through them.
" WTiat can you make of all this, brother mine ?
"Arthur."
The last question in my letter I ask my reader also, with the
hope that he may have gleaned a glimpse of my doings whilst
in the capital.
At the end of the summer term 1 resigned my positions.
Before starting again on ray wanderings I spent a fortnight at
Hayama, where I bathed and boated to my heart's content. I
could vn-ito a chapter on those two vreeks : on my wanderings in
the Io\-ely country round Kamakura just clad in boft kimona ;
143
A AVAXDERER'S TRAIL
on my swims and sailing trips in and out of the inlets and bays.
That fortnight of simple life did refresh me after the trying humid
heat of the Tokio simimer.
It was the end of July when I left Tokio bound for fresh woods
and pastures new. ^ly capital was just fifty pounds.
As many able writci's have de])icted the sights and scenes to be
witnessed in Kyoto and O^aka. I will pass quickly on to Kobe
where I caught an inland sea steamer for Moji. After the rains
the country was looking vciy soft and gi'cen. Between Tokio
and Osaka we encircled the foot of the sacred mountain Fuji Saa,
its snow-ci-ested sunnnit shiniiig white in the sun's rays.
I was the only foreigner on board the Japanese steamer bound
for 3Ioji, but I was surprised to hnd so many of the officers on
board had a working knowledge of English. Taken on the whole,
I think the Japanese are to be sincerely praised for the effoi'ts
they have made and their com])arativc success in comnumicating
with the English-spcakijig West. I will not tell my reader that
they are marvellous linguists, for they a;'e not ; but m comparison
with us Englisji, whose linguistic talents are all but atrophied
from disuse, they are.
The officers were all exti'cmely courteous ; and this I have
always found to be the case on every steamei', whether a coal
tramp or linci'. llyii^g the pretty mercantile flag of Japan. On
the other hand I must confess that I have observed a I'ather too
lax state of discipline on many Ja])anese steamers, the quarter-
mastei- at the \\hecl in Dumy iiistaneos a])parent]\- nf)t thinking
it out of ])laee to join in a eoii\'(M'--ation that may be going on
bet\\een tlic captain and one oi' his ofiicers. Tlie fault, of course,
lies witli the offiecis. I ha^c- n(/lieed also, that though the
Japanese ollieei' is an excel lent navigator and a. eompetcnit sailor
he is too often inclined to be careless.'
The steamer stopped at the many small jjlaces that litter the
shoi'e-> of tlie Inland Sea -|)laecs tourists ne\(_'r see. travelling
as thev inevitably do in the big ]inc-r> that steani. tluough these
^vatel■s without a sto]> at seventeen kjiols an hf)nr. The weather
^ \\'licu uJi lac cucisl ui Kurca i iiad a ^Arikin^ conln-mation of this view.
M4
JaI'.W aw I-'E'IE
'I'm:-: i \ i \\ i i m. \
IMPRESSIONS OF JAPAN— THE JAPANESE
Avas pcii'ect, being hot and sunny ; and the miniature scenery of
the coast-land was indeed picturesque. It looked its best in the
warm hght of the sun. Picturesque, however, as is the scenery
throughout tlie Inland Sea, to say that it is the prettiest in the
world is to my mind absolutely incorrect. I suppose we must
thank some of those hysterical enthusiasts, who sprouted up
like mushrooms in the wake of Japan's success over Russia and
who even attributed to the Japanese a power wholly to abrogate
natural laws, for the extravagant panegyi'ics on the beauty of
the Inland Sea.^
At daybreak on the last day of July we anchored off Moji.
Moji is essentially a coaling port, yearly growing in importance.
Facing Moji is the .own of Shimonoseki, the scene of the first
foreign treaty with Japan. Many deep-sea steamers, coasting
craft and fishing boats lay in the channel as we anchored. The
steamers were being coaled. The method of coaling employed is
very simple, but yet effective, thanks to the cheapness of labour.
Coal, at the rate of thousands of tons a day, is poured into the
bunkers of a big liner by the simple process of tiers of men and
women passing up, hand over hand, small baskets of coal. It is
as picturesque as interesting a sight to watch a large mail steamer
being thus coaled.
I made but a short stay in Moji, and on the following evening
embarked on one of the Osaka Sliosen Kaisha steamers for
Korea. I boarded the boat some hours before she sailed and
watched her finishing the loading of her cargo, the bulk of which
was Japanese bazaar goods. Japanese cigarettes were con-
spicuous.
A twelve hours' passage across the Tsushima Straits landed
me on the coast of the mainland of Korea.
^ I would rather my reader said, if Fate is kind enougli to give him the
opportunity of seeing the Inland Sea : " It is far more beautiful than I
was led to think." I was unfortunately compelled to say : " Lt is not a
tenth as beautiful as I was led to think."
145
CHAPTER XI
AN IMPRESSION OF JAPANESE SPORTS
I RECALL a Rugby football match in Tokio. It was between
the team of Keio University and a " fifteen " from
Yokohama, made up of young business men, mostly
Englislimcn. The Yokohama team, it is almost unnecessary to
say, wc]e quite untrained, as the life led by the average business
man in tlie treaty ports of Japan is hardly conducive to keeping
fit. The Keio team, on the other liand, were as hard as nails from
constant practice, and the majority of them also were either
rowing or judo men. The result, nevertheless, was a win for the
\Tsiting team.
The cause of this, apart from the fact that the Japanese
are still more or less tyros at tlie game, was over-cautiousness.
I can recall sucii a number of openings lost, such a number of
opportunities of scoring missed, by the over-cautiousness of the
Keio tean:). Their "threes," comparatively well fed by their
"halves," seemed to be possessed of but one idea — of finding
touch directly they got the bah. None of them evci' attempted
a dash for the goal line, and tliey seldom ran straight o^- gave
their '" wings " a sporting ch.anee to do something. They could
not see that offensive tactics arc the best defence. At the outset
of the game tlie Japanese team settled down to play a losing
game, the ordei' of the day ap])arently being " risk nothing, only
ti'y to keep tliera out of your ' t\veiity-li\'e.' " The same spirit,
if one may judge from accounts of observers, was apparent in
the recent war.
Rugby football is, notwithstanding, innkiiig headway in Tokio;
but I fear that until tlie .J.'ipanese ])layor learns that he must
use his head as well as his feet the Yokohama "fifteen,"
146
AN IMPRESSION OF JAPANESE SPORTS
untrained and unfit as it must always be, will never have
much difficulty in defeating the best team Tokio can produce.
Baseball is, perhaps, the most popular foreign game amongst
the young of Japan to-day. Judging from results the Japanese
seem to have a special aptitude for it, as many of the American
and Hawaiian teams that have visited Japan have been defeated
by the various school and university teams of Tokio.
The Japanese, besides having thoroughly mastered the rudi-
ments of this American game, have, further, well assimilated
the American system of college yells and " rooting." To-day the
technical terms of football as well as baseball come very pat from
the mouths of both players and spectators. The Rugby phrases,
"not straight," "picked out," "offside," etc., fall as glibly
from the mouths of a Japanese " fifteen " and its supporters as
from those of an English team and crowd at Blacklieath.
Tennis, too, is very popular in Japan to-day. I was leather
sui'priscd, however, to find that it needed almost a Herculean
effort to knock the balls out of the court. This is due to the fact
that the regulation ball is but seldom used, a thin rubber one
being used instead.
Rowing is also popular amongst Japanese students, and many
keen contests take place on the pretty Sumida River of which
Tokio is justly proud. Unfortunately the result of keen contests
is often a free fight. It seems a g^-cat pity that fi-iction should
enter into play in Japan. Rioting occurs very frequently after a
big game in Tokio. Indeed, to such a degree lias the bad feeling
between two of tiie leading universities in Tokio gi-own that the
authorities have been compelled to put a stop to matches, or
contests of any description, between them to avoid bad blood,
fi'ee fights and general rioting.
This unsportsmanlike spirit is to l^e regretted ; but I am in-
clined to think that it is only of a temporary Jiatnre. Japanese
sense of fair play is by no means deficient,, as is clearly seen in
the playing of their own national games ; for no people could
be more scrupulously honourable than the Japanese in tliese
circumstances. The rather unsportsmanlike spirit noticeable
147
A \vandp:rer's trail
iji the playing of foreign games is, I think, due to the incoiyiplete
assimilatio]! of the new with tlie spirit of the old.
Everywhere in Japan, and in To lei o })artieularly, an observant
resident can see illustrations of the transition stage through
which the country is passing. The Avorst enemy of Japan could
not deny that the Japanese, from the aristocrat to the coolie,
are a very courteous race, and innately, not superficially so, as
is sometimes suggested. I am referring, of eoui-se, to the polite-
ness of one Japanese to anothei-, and not to the attitude of a
Ja])anese to a foi-cignei-. On moi-e than one occasion I have had
the rather UTUisual privilege of living in the house of a Japanese
family. Thei'e I have witnessed the extreme courtesy eveiy
inember of the family extended to anothei', the courtesy with
Avhieli the master of the house treated the 'rickshaw coolie, the
courtesy of the little daughtci" to her playmate next door.
Hcjicc, thougji I know that many do not hold the same opinion
but consider the courtesy of the Japanese to be mainly super-
ficial. I maintain that the Japanese are most courteous people,
]hit in a tramcar or in a train, foreign innovations, one sees
quite a diffeitnit state of affairs and witnesses plenty of dis-
coiutesy and rudeness. This in my mind is solely due to the
incomplete l)lcnding of the s])irit of the old with the conditions
of the new. Unfortvmately foi- Japaii the spots where the visitor
and tourist obtain their impressions of Japan and of Japanese
are where foi-eign innovations are most in evidence. Few re-
sidents and still fewer visitors enjoy the privilege of dwelling
in a Japanese gentleman's house as a guest, and it is really only
froin the home life of a nation that true impressions can be
formed.
True Japanese sportsmanship can be seen in any of the
national games, such as jujutsu (wrestling), kenjuisu (fencing),
kiujuUu (archery). Also in sumo, another form of wi-estliiig
moi-e ])opular amongst the lowei- clnsses. I have witnessed many
competitions in these games, and have had many a bout at ju-
jutsu ; and have only the greatest admiration for the honourable
conduct displayed and for the spirit of fair play that prevailed.
148
A\ v.\'v.]<\:<\\ -I i:m-: in Iatax
I \i' \\ \.-i. W' i\ii
AN IMPRESSION OF JAPANESE SPORTS
It is in these sports that one can see the true spirit of the
Japanese sportsman.
Judo is the modern and imjiroved jujutsu — the sport of the
Samurai. Some twenty years ago a certain Dr Jigoro Kano,
after having studied all the different forms of jujutsu in various
parts of Japan, founded the Kodo-Kwan of Tokio, which is
to-day, one might say, the university of judo. Kano's style of
wrestling — i.e. judo — was the outcome. Dr Kano was recently
decorated by the Emperor of Japan for his services to his
country ; and no Japanese deserves greater honour.
The Kodo-Kwan still adheres strictly to the old customs
and etiquette of the Samurai age, and the degi-ees awarded to
its members are hall-marks throughout the whole length of
Japan of their skill in judo ; and, what is more important still,
of their moral character. There are many degrees of excellence.
Roughly speaking, there are three distinct classes, each class
distinguished by a different coloured ohi or belt. The highest
class is the yudansha class. Its members wear a black belt. This
class has seven ranks, the highest being shichidan (+ 7). Of
this rank there are only two or three in all Japan. Of the rank
below — rokudan ( + 6) — there are not more than a dozen. The
lower ranks in this class are godan (+ 5), yodan (+ 4), sandan
(+ 3), nidan (+ 2). The lowest rank is shodan (+ 1). The one
who has gained the rank of shodan is qualified to become a
teacher. Twelve hundred would, I think, more than total all
the holders of the black belt. The class below the rank of shodan
is the muyudansha class, which is divided into two separate
divisions, the members of each wearing a different coloured ohi.
The higher class wear a brown ohi, the lower a white one.
The muyudansha class, like the yudansha class, is divided into
various ranks, the highest being ikkyu ( - 1), the lowest rokukyii
(-6). When the student reaches the rank of sanyku (-3), he
discards the white belt in favour of the brown and his name is
then recorded on a small wooden tablet affixed to the walls of
the wrestling hall, to remain there for the edification of posterity.
I seem to remember a popular fallacy prevalent at home with
149
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
regard to this wrestling — that every Japanese one meets is, more
or less, a judo expert. This is totally incorrect. Till a student
reaches the ijudansha class, or, in other words, till he gains the
right to wear the black belt, he is no expert. Till he gains the
black belt he is not even qualilicd to teach. Judo experts are as
I'are in Japan as expert boxers ai'e in any Western nation. To
acquire the skill necessa:y to become a teacher one needs lour
oi' hve years of liard practice. There is no royal road, no short
cut, to become a skilled jiijutsu wrestlei'. as many at home ^eem
to think. Judo is no occult secret, though I NS'ould not infer that
jndo has not its occult side. It has.
The etiquette of the Kodo-Kwan is very strict. Students in
Japanese clothes can never enter its doors unless wearing their
hakama (di\'ided skirts). No student would dream of starting
wi'e.^tling till lie had made his obeisance before the photograph
of Dr Kano which hangs over the dais of the dojo ; nor would he
be permitted to start wi'estling before he had bowed ceremoni-
ously to his opponent. The greatest respect is paid to any of the
yudansha class.
On my joining the Kodo-Kwan I had to comply with an old
Sanmrai ceremony of presenting two fans. I had also to sign my
name in blood to a declaration to abide faithfully by the lules
of the Kodo-Kwan and not to disclose an\i:hing I might learn
within its walls.
At fixed periods of the year shobus (tournaments) are licld,
when pi'omf>tion is decided upon. Tlu- um]:)irc's decision is irre-
vocable ; arc! I do not thi]ik tlure li^■(^> a student i)i all Ja])an
who would di'cam of disputing a'ay decision. The spirit of bushido
is seen at it> best within the walls of the Kodo-Kwan.
Tlie judo-iiicncd Jaj)a]if*--e is Jiead and siioulde.s supei'ior.
morallv. ])liy-ical]y and meritally to the fhit-chested, })e-
s])eetac]ed. s])r)ity-face(l. weed\" t^i^e of youth \^ho talks glibly
of economics and internationnl law and is being turned out in
thousands by the schools and univeisitifs of Japan to-day.
The ??f do-man is a man : but, alas ! he is scarce. I have met him
abroad as a na\jgatoj'. as a soldiei', as a coloniser, and liave the
150
AN IMPRESSION OF JAPANESE SPORTS
liig]iest respect for him. Would he were counted in his thousands
instead of in liis tens. Japan needs more judo and less economics
in the national training.
I happened once to be on a Japanese coal tramp. On the ship
was a young Japanese clerk. We had coal on the decks in abund-
ance. I suggested an hour's shovelling coal every day to keep
fit. He replied: "Ah, the principle is good but . . . etc." I
shovelled coal ; he studied econoiiiics. I kept fit, he got jaundice.
Exactly the same in life. We Britishei's may not be so pat in
enunciating pi-inciples and theories, but we do keep fit. Japan's
young men will quote you Stuart Mill for an hour and have
chronic indigestion !
A rather startling fact came to my notice not long ago. One
of the largest commercial houses in Japan lost the huge sum of
nearly one million yen in one year through numerous em-
bezzlements at their various branches. When it is further
mentioned that this firm recruit all its employees from the
highest educational institutions of the country, it should make
the thoughtful person stop and ponder. The average clerk in
Japan starts his career to-day full of ambition, and very properly
so ; but too often imbued with the idea of getting on — honestly
if he can. In the modern get-rich-quick atmosphere of Japan
such a spirit, without the restraining influence of a " play the
game " spirit, is a dangerous one to hold. Also the inadequate
salary paid to the clerk, in no way commensurate with the ever-
increasing expense of living, is another source of danger — an
ever-present inducement for the yomigman to start speculation,
his first step downwards. Healthy sport is one of the best sheet-
anchors for the voimcf man — of the East or West.
151
CFIAPTER XI r
SOME exp?:ktf.xc'ES in kokea
I ENTERED Korea at Fusan, one of the principal seaports
of the peninsuhi. Fiisan liarboui" is j-eally nothing more
than a deep indentation in the coast-land, in the middle of
which lies Deer Island. It is capacious, being about two miles
wide, and with a sufficient depth of water to accommodate the
largest vessels.
Korea at the moment of my visit was ostensibly an
independent kingdom, though under the protection of Japan;
to-day, of course, it is an integral part of that country.
On landing at Fusan I found the traffic on the railway between
the port and the capital, Seoul, entirely suspended, as much of
the ti-ack had been damaged by floods resulting from heavy
rains. Korea yearly suffers great loss from floods^ — the inevitable
result of the wholesale destruction of the forests. China suffers,
too, in many parts from the same cause.
Two plans lay before me : I could remain in Fusan for two or
three days till the railway was in working oi'dei' again, or reach
the ca])ital round the west coast on a small coasting steamer.
The latter alternative, though entaili]ig a much longer journey,
suited me veiy well, as the fare was much ('hen])er. I ^\'as ever in
the position of having moj'c time than money. This j'oute also
gave me the 0])])oi'tunity of visiting some of the small coast
ports lying off the beaten track. So I booked a passage in one
of the Osaka Shosen Kaisha's coasting steamers, as I had learnt
by experience that where the O.S.K. Hag ilew I should lind
comfoitable quarters and good attendance.
We sailed on the same evening, skirting the south and south-
western shoi'e-, ol Korea. Foi' the mo>t ])art the\- were fringed
SOME EXPERIENCES IN KOREA
with rocky islands and reefs, many of the former appearing quite
uninhabited. In parts the scenery was very pretty, some of the
islands being thickly clad with vegetation.
We anchored off our first poil of call- — -jVIokpo^ — -late in the
afternoon of the day following our departure. Mokpo is a small
port on the river Yong San Gang, wliich waters the Cluilla
district~-one of the wealthiest in Korea. The town was tj'pically
Koiean. It was surrounded by the usual city wall and possessed
its two settlements — that of the Koreans and that of the
Japanese. The up-to-date and cleanly appearance of the latter
struck me very forcibly in contrast with the former, in which the
result of generations of corrupt rule was clearly seen.
Save for a lady missionary I was the sole foreigner on board.
This good lady was kind enough to teach me a few phrases of
the Korean language. At this port I seized the opportunity of
trymg the few words I had learnt, or thought I had, on some
of the peasants I met in the fields outside the town. My
salutations elicited, however, no response, apparently being
perfectly unintelligible to them. Why I know not ! Unless it was
my Korean was too haikara ^ for them, as the Japanese would
say ; or else I murdered with true English linguistic stupidity
the few phrases I had learnt. I drew blanks every time, till I
gave up in disgust.
At sundown we steamed a^^'ay, having discharged a few tons
of cargo, chiefly Japanese bazaar goods. Another missionary- —
a doctor — joined the ship at Mokpo ; so there were now three
Europeans on board. My t^A'o coinpanions I found charming-
people — much to my surprise ; for I had lived too long in Japan
to escape the generally accepted opinion of the worth of a
missionary.
By daybreak on the next day we were anchored off Kunsan,
situated at the mouth of the Yong Dang. It was at tliis port that
tJie missionary doctor got off, and he very kindly invited me
to visit his mission station whilst the ship was discharging. I
1 The origin of this word is " high-collar/' signifying fashionablCj smart,
etc. The letter " 1 " is ever a stunibhng-block to tlie Orientah
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
gratefully accepted the invitation. Shortly after breakfast we
made our way to the station which la}' a few miles outside the
town. Each of us took turns in riding the slow and ancient
Korean pony that had been sent down to meet us. We passed
through the little town, whicli was a replica of Mokpo, and
wended our way thiough paddy-iields till we reached the mission,
which was situated on high giound overlooking the town. After
a rest and a chat I went with the doctor to his hospital. Many
Korean villager's of all t^-pes were awaiting the doctor's arrival^ — ■
patients who had come for treatment for every complaint, from
a skin disease to a cyst on the eyelid. I watched the young
doctor tending his charges. He was an indomitable worker, but
withal a cheery one, the depressing atmosphere so often pre-
valent in such places and in such surroundings being absent.
Sympathy and good-will were there instead.
After spending the day at the Kunsan Mission Station I bade
farewell to the doctor and his family and rode the mission's
ancient quadruped back to the ship. We sailed late in the after-
noon for Chemulpho. AVe expected to reach this port within
twenty-four hours. But 'Man proposed and God disposed,
for before reaching this port we all but reached another— that
of Davy Jones ! The steamer ran her nose at full speed on a rock
— ^thanks to a tliick fog.
A great element of carelessness, however, entered into this
mishap. I had been with the captain in his chart-room when he
was setting his course, and had noticed he calculated to pass the
rocks on which we struck three miles abeam. He I'cmarked to
me on what a strong set there was j'uniiing to the eastward off
this coast ; in some cases, he said, as much as four knots an h.our.
TJie knowledge of this fact, cou])led with a change in the weather,
should have been enough to cause any careful iiavigator immedi-
ately to put the ship off the shore so as to be certain that she
would pass well wide of the land. Apparently, in this instance,
no precautions were taken ; hence the result.
Fortunately we only grazed the rocks. Had we been a few
more Feet to stai'board we should have been a total wreck in a
154
SOME EXPERIENCES IN KOREA
few minutes. As it was, the damage was limited to the ripping of
a few plates. Tlie ship was immediately aiieliored and we waited
for the clearing of the weather.
The shock of the ship going aground nearly threw me out of
my bunk ; it even woke me up. It also woke the Japanese
captain ! Rather scantily clad I went on deck and found the crew
swinging out the boats. The discipline and order could not have
been better. The report that the ship was only making a few
inches of water an hour soon convinced us that there was no
immediate danger, as the pumps could easily keep such a small
inflow in check.
Day broke. It still remained foggy. As the morning grew the
weather cleared, and by noon we were able to see our surround-
ings and realise the narrowness of our escape. The ship lay
between three large jagged rocks standing well out of the water.
Had our steamer struck any of these full, her bows would have
been stove in and she would have sank in a few minutes.
AVhen the weather was sufficiently clear we weighed anchor
and resumed our northerly course for Chemulpho. On our way
we passed a capsized fishing boat, which at first sight looked
like a dead whale adrift. The crew mistook it and were delighted,
for to tow in a whale meant something in all their pockets. On
the whale materialising into a capsized fishing boat their disgust
was as great as their foi-mer jubilation.
In the afternoon fog again compelled us to anchor. It was a
rather strange phenomenon — -this heavy mist hanging ovei- the
sea notwithstanding the fact that the warm sun was shining
brightly over our heads. But this is not an unusual occurrence
off the coast of Korea, the cause being the meeting of different
currents of unequal temperatures. The seas here need very
careful navigation and are rather dreaded, as the surveying is
incomplete. The currents, also, are both strong and erratic.
We reached Chemulpho by midnight after having stopped
several times on account of fog. The captain was taking no
more chances !
Only very light-draught ships can enter the inner anchorage
^55
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
of this port owing to the enormous rise and fall of the tide ; the
outer one, however, can accommodate ships of all sizes. A large
barge towed by a tug lauded us in the morning, the ship lying
about three miles outside.
Chemulpho, or Jinscn as the Japanese call it. is the principal
seaport of Koi-ea. It is also the port of the capital, lying on a
small tributaiy of the Han, or Seoul River. In apj^earance
Chemulpho is similar to the other ports in the south, though on
a rather larger scale. Japanese enterprise was aljundantly in
evidence, and nuist be still inore so to-day.
I caught an early morning train to the cajjital passing through
well-cultivated land. The soil was very red in a])pearance. Much
of the land alongside the railway was very swampy. These
swamps, I was told, bi'ought the Japanese engineers to grief
when they were laying the railway. American engineers first
surveyed the land and marked out the best route, bearing in their
experienced minds the very possible danger of floods. When the
Japanese engineers took ovev the ]:> reposition they thought they
knew bettei- ; they discarded the well-chosen path selected by
the former surveyors (who, they forgot, came from a country
that knows nearly the lirst and last trick of the railway ti'ade),
and they laid down the track on ground which certainly looked
suited for the purpose. The result was })eriodieal demolitions
of the track by flood. In the end tlie Japanese were ^vise enough
to adopt the discarded route.
^^\ ])assed numerous small villages, sun'ouiided by fields of
melons, or perha])s I sliould say melon ])atelu's, tliat being. I
Miink. tlie recognised expi'cssion. Some oi' the inelon vines (?)
wei'e even growing on tlie thatched roc^fs oj' the houses in the
villages. A])pai-ently the various owneis of these " ])atches ""
had ]\() great faith in human nature or in the honesty of their
countr\'nien ; for I renuirk</d in the llli(l^t ol each sejxirate
" ])ateh "" there ^vas ei'ceted a small ])oreh whereon a wateli-
man sat to prevent any passer-by from waiidcM'ing amongst the
melons and appro])riating some.
The hiiih mountains overlooking the eajjital soon came in
so:\rE experiexcp:s in korea
sight, some of thciii rising to a height of over four tliousaiid feet.
The city, encircled by its old wall, lies at the foot of these
towering hills. After a journey of a couple of hours the train
deposited us by the south gate.
I had Ijrought with nie from Tokio several letters of intro-
duction to I'csidents in the capital. So I spent the fn-st morning
])resentino my credentials. Amongst those I met that day was
the able editor of the Seoul Press, and the late Mr Ernest
T. Bethell, who was then the editor and owner of the Dai Han
Mai II Shimpo.^ Mr Bethell, with that charming hospitality
really only laiown to residents east of Suez, invited me to be his
guest just so long as I remained in Seoul. His invitation I most
gratefully accepted and appreciated.
I had intended to make only a short stay in Seoul, but circum-
stances changed my plans. I was asked to act as foreign reviser
to the Seoul Press, in order that the Englishman acting in that
capacity might take a short holiday. On the day following my
arrival I took up my duties on the Japanese newspaper as
locum tenens to the foreign i-eviser.
Mr Bcthell's house was the most picturesque bungalow in
Seoul, charmingly situated outside the city wall. It stood on
very high ground and commanded an extensive and most perfect
view of the surrounding mountains and the valley at the foot.
At the time of my stay the house was watched by Japanese spies.
The nights in Korea at this time of the year are singularly
lovely. Their exquisite calm and softness remain vividly im-
pressed on my memory. I recall the clear starry heavens above
us as we lay outside, the loity mountains silently reminding us
of their presence. From the village that nestled in the valley at
our feet the distant sound of Korean nmsic faintly reached our
ears, the softness of the night I'cndering less harsh the shrill
falsetto notes. As the niglit gj-ew on these faint noises hushed.
Soon the lights of the village twinkling like fireflies in tlie dark-
ness of the valley woe extinguished oiie by one, and only the
deep silence remained.
^ i'he Korea Daily News.
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Though my stay in Seoul was of only three weeks' duration I
had the opportunity of meeting many of the residents there. I
was made by my host a visiting membei- of the Seoul Club, one
of the most hospitable clubs I have ever visited in the East.
From the members I received the utmost kindness and considera-
tion — consideration for my youth, as well as for my limited
finances. I appreciate this to-day as keenly as I did then ; for I
was then only twenty-two years old and clubmen as a rule are
not eager to indulge in the company of one of such tender years.
During my stay in the capital I made some very enjoyable
trips round the mountains and in the outskirts of the city. A
drive through the Pekin Pass that guards the old highway to
Chijia I'cvealed some most beautiful scenery. A severe thu]ider-
storm, on one occasion, caused my companions and myself to
seek shelter under cover of the Imperial graves. There I saw-
some superb pieces of stone carving. Many pieces, however, were
missi]ig ; they had been stolen by greedy inhabitants.
Koi'ca has fortunately not been on the list of countries to be
explored by the tourist, but the life of the Korean and the
sights of Seoul befoi-e the Independence of the Hermit Kingdom
passed away have been very ably dcsci-ibcd by several autliors —
so well indeed that I will not attempt to add my impressions.
The following chapter will give ray reader a brief account of a
phase of Korean affairs undcj' the Japanese regime, with which
I was in a small way connected.
15^
CHAPTER XIII
IMPRESSIONS OF THE JAPANESE REGIME IN KOREA
AT the time of my stay the bad feeling between Japanese
and Korean pervaded tlie whole atmosphere. The
Koreans alleged, and with much truth, that the work
and industries of the country were being giadually absorbed by
the Japanese. The control of the telegraph, postal and custom
services had already passed out of their hands. The ginseng crop
(a valuable native drug) had also been taken over by the
Japanese. This caused widespread discontent. To make matters
■worse the country was being flooded by hundreds of Japanese
coolies and adventurers of the worst t^^e, these latter being
found to no small extent amongst the officials. None of these
undesirable immigrants were actuated by any motive other
than that of exploiting the Korean and his country. In fact,
the Koreans said truthfully that tlie exploitation of Korea was
going on under the guise of a Japanese Protectorate.
From 1905, when the Protectorate was declared, Japan em-
barked on the fatal policy of introducing a military administra-
tion into the country. She followed the example of most military
nations and started her rule over the tlien not-unfriendly
country of Koi'ea by adopting the " mailed fist " policy. Instead
of coming at the outset v.'ith outstretelied hands and approach-
ing the Koreans in a spirit of friendship and good-will and
appealing by that spirit to tlie liigher nature of the inhabitants,
Japan introduced coercive and military methods. She used
icgimcnts of soldiers as her sole v\'capon to colonise the country ;
and in consequence appealed from the very beginning to all
that was base and evil in the Koreans. As a result thousands of
Koreans revolted and were shot down as insui'gents.
159
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
To put it bluntly, tlie Japanese regime in 1908 stood for
wholesale pilfering of Korean soil, ostensibly for military pur-
poses; for the gradual absorption of the industries of the country;
and for the vigorous suppression of the iuMirgents. Through the
introduction of this regime thousands of Koreans Mere in arms,
aiifl thousands of Japanese ti'oo})s wei-c patrolling the country
" looking for trouble." Judging by statistics, they found it. For
over fourteen thousand Koreans have been shot down since
the Protectorate was proclaimed ; and not fourteen hundred
Japanese have fallen in tliis butchci's work. In the year 1909
alone over three thousand Koreans wei'c killed, whilst the
Japanese gendarmei-ielost eleven men and iKenty-seven wounded.
Never once has a prolonged appeal been made to the good in
the Korean character. Bayonets and bullets have been preferred
and have bi'ought in their train only the undying hatred of a
race once friendly to the Jajianese.
This disastrous result was not unnoticed by right-minded
Japanese politicians. The late Prince Ito, whose life was sacrificed
on the altar of Militarism, was one- of the few who perceived
the deplorable state of affairs that had resulted from the
militai-y occupation of the country and the very unpropitious
start that had been made in his country's fii'st attempt to
colonise.^
])uring this unhappy time the Koi'cans were not wholly with-
out a champion for theii' ^vl■ongs. The late- ]\Ir Iv'nest T. Bethell
filled this position down to the time of his dc.'ith in 1909.
Mr Bethell was the editor of TJic Korea Daily Xcus, a paper
])ubli^hed in the country's vernacular and also in English
(though tlie latter section luid beeii disconiinued some little
time beJ'ore I ari'ived in the capital). His Korean edition
stoutly eham])ioiicd the cau^c of thf oppressed nati\'e.
I^f'l'ore gi\'iiig ;i brief resume of the facts le;i(ling up tf) the two
famous trials in Seouh trials tJiat shc)uld haA c ojjcncd the eyes
of the Ja])aiiese as it did tlie eyes cd' others to the disgraceful
' The ironv of it 1 I'nncc Ito, one of the best friends the Koreans had,
was murdered bv them.
i6o
IMPRESSIONS OF THE JAPANESE REGIME
scenes and incidents that were being enacted by short-sighted
and vindictive officials under the cloak of the Administration of
Korea — I would mention that I have reasons for recalling out
of the past a drama tliat reflected, one fears, but little credit on
the fair name of Japan. The first is that I cannot fulfil my task
and give an account of experiences and impressions in every
country I visited if I were to omit this. The second reason I
liave is completely to clear the name of the late Mr Bethell from
whatever stain or stigma might yet remain attached to it —
the stain of charges that were made against him and were
proved false ; the stain of libellous reports that were maliciously
circulated, reflecting on his honour and moral integrity. During
his lifetime Mr Bethell needed no defender ; now that he has
passed away I put my pen forward in his defence.
During the years immediately following the Russian- Japanese
war Mr Betliell through his newspaper exposed and brouglit to
light many of the questionable methods employed by certain
Japanese officials entrusted with the administration of the
country. The Japanese authorities in Seoul, as would be
naturally supposed, did all they could to get rid of one who was
throwing the strong and undesii'ablc light of publicity on their
doings ; but tliey could ffiidno cause or just pretext for doing so.
Telling the truth is not an indictable offence. It must be further
remembered that Mr Bethell was a British subject, and extra-
territorial rights ^ wei'c still then in force.
At last, however, Mr Bethell unwittingly gave the Japanese
the oj^portunity for which they had so long been waiting. Ills
Korean editor — one Yang-Ki-Tak — foolishly inserted, ^vithout
Mr Bethell's knowledge, articles about the assassination of IMr
I^. W. Stevens, Adviser to the Korean Government. It will be
remejtibered that the cause of Mr Stevens' death by violence in
San Francisco at the hands of certain Koreans was occasioned
by the prevailing idea amongst most Koreans that he was a
traitor, being in the pay of the Korean Government, and yet,
they alleged, playing into the hands of the Japanese. The
^ Abolished when the Annexation took place.
L lOl
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
action of the murderers was lauded by the bulk of the Korean
nation as that of patriots and worthy of the highest approba-
tion. This view had been embodied in a certain article, which had
been published in a Korean paper in San Francisco ; and it was
this offending article that was reproduced in Mr Bethell's news-
paper by his editoi-.
The result of the publication of this article was the famous
trial of Mr Bethell in Seoul for sedition : for " inciting to dis-
order." The case was tried befoi'c i\Ir Justice Bourne, M'ho was
sent up from Shanghai by the Bi'itisJi Government, who had
been approached by the Japanese and the Korean Govern-
ment to take action against Mr Bethell. As a result of the trial
Mr Bethell received a sentence of three weeks' imprisonment,
as a first-class misdemeanant, for the political offence of sedition.
It was rumoured that the British judge was instructed by the
Home Government as to the sentence to be inflicted ; but, as I
am confining m^^self to facts, I will say no more. It was, to say
the least of it, highly indiscreet of Mi' Justice Bourne to dine
with Prince Ito the evening before the trial. One wonders what
would have been said by the Japanese if it had been with Mr
Betliell that the judge had dined !
At the trial some difficulty arose about the Koi'can witnesses
called for the defence. The Japanese authoi-ities therefore gave
an undertaking that nobody should suffer for any evidence
given on that occasion. Amongst those who gave evidence for
3Ir Bethel] was his editor Yang, who was even congi-atulated by
the ])rosecuting counsel for his straightforward and excellent
demeanour in the witness-box.
3Ir Bethell served his sentence in Shanghai, ti'avelling dov/n
tlie coast en parole in a gunboat sent up for the purpose. On the
ex])ii'ati()ii of the pei'iod of three weeks Mr Bethell I'cturned to
Seoul Avitli tlie same purpose but moi'c caution, and resumed the
unprodtabic task of chainpioning the cause of the oppressed
Koi'can.
Xot long after Mr Bethell's return his edi.,or was liyatrick
insiMgk'd awax'from the premises of tJie newspaper office where
162
imprt:ssioxs of tup: Japanese regime
he resided, and was arrested by the Japanese authorities. This
was not exactly a straiglitforward action when it is mentioned
that the only other method of arresting Yang wa,s by application
to the British Consul-General, as the premises on which he was
residing were registei'cd in the name of a British subject, and
Yang was consequently ])rotected, when there, by the laws of
extra-teri'itojiality. The only possible reason why this course
was not ado]3ted was that the British Consul-Genei'al might
have required to be satisfied that there was some valid evidence
against Yang-Ki-Tak, and that he was not being prosecuted
for political reasons— such as revenge for the evidence given
by him in the Bcthell trial !
Yang, after his arrest, -was subjected to what lawyers call a
" lishing " examination. He was then formally charged with
embezzlement of the money of the National Debt Redemption
Fund.
Just a few words as to the origin and formation of this fund.
In 1907 the Koreans started a fund which they, in their old-
world iimocence, thought might grow to such proportions that
t]ie amount collected would be sufficient to pay off wJiat they
owed to Japan. It was their belief that if this were done Japan
would be compelled to pack up her baggage and evacuate Korea.
Tliough the idea reflected somewhat on the intelligence of the
Koreans, it demonstrated their patriotism ; for, to raise the sum,
men freely gave money they could ill afford and women their
valued trinkets and Jade ornaments. Mr Bethell's newspaper was
selected by the people as the best medium to receive their contii-
butions. Notwithstanding Mi' Bethell's wishes that his paper
should not be made the medium of these subscriptions, money
continued to ai'i'ive daily. Being powerless in the matter, he
decided to jjut the fund on a business footing to avoid the
squeezing that would otherwise inevitably occur. Tlie amount
held at the moment of Yang's arrest was considei'able. As Yang
was tlie Korean editor of the paper in question, the Japanese
seized this as a pretext for his arrest.
^ir Heiiiy CoekbLuti, tlie British Consul-General in Seoul,
1 03
A WAXDERER'S TRAIL
protested from the first against the manner of Yang's arrest, as
it was a distinct breach of the assurance given by the Japanese
authorities to Judge Bourne at tlie Bethel] triah His protest was,
liowever, totally disregarded at the Japanese Residency.
This tlicn was the position of affairs when I arrived in the
capital. The next day my position became i-ather delicate, for
I started as foreign reviser on the Seoul Press — the official organ
of the Japanese Residency, and was at the same time the guest
ol' Mr Bethell, wlio, to put it mildly, was hardly persona grata
with the Resident-General. Members of the Seoul Club humor-
ously dubbed me as the " spy in both camps." Both parties — ■
my host and my employei's — adopted towards me a scrupulously
hojiourable attitude, each appreciating the delicacy of my posi-
tion and in no way attempting to ascertain any information
that I might hear of in the rival camp.
The fu'st change in the situation was made through a foreign
resident who obtained admittance to the prison where Yang Avas
iiicarccratcd, and discovered his shockiiig condition, resulting
from the privations to which he was being exposed. The dis-
covery brought another official protest from ]\Ir Cockburn.
It was again disregarded. Strojiger steps were, therefore,
taken. The British Embassy in Tokio was appj-oached in the
inatter, and hnally the Foreign Oirice in London. Indeed, i: took
all the ]'esources of the ]5ritish Consulate in Seoul, the British
fvnbassy hi Tokio, and the Fojcign Oilice in London to obtain
ordinary humane treatment for Yang whilst lie lay in prison — an
untried prisoner in the hands of the Japanese.
A rem.arka])le incident no^v occurred as tlic lesidt of these
negotiations — the; mistaken release of Yang by the Japanese.
It Jia])])encd a day or two after my an'i\'al in the capital. Whilst
Ave were at dinner a '" chit "' arrived for ]\[i' Bethell, iiifonuing
Jiiiri that his editor liad been released and was at that moment
in his newspapei' olhee. Immediately on iceeipt of this piece of
information 3Ir Bethell \\eiit doAvn to the ofliee and there saw
Yang. ^^•]lO, vvlien (juc^^l ioned. eonld only say that he was told at
the })rison to go. lie- had needed no second telling, but had
104
( 'ii \" ( ': \ I I, ' ii- Si:i >[' I . \\' iKv. \
\ M-J 'II. I\i iRi; A
IMPRESSIONS OF THE JAPANESE REGIME
immediately takeji a 'ricksha \\' to the newspaper olhce, that in
his idea being the safest place.
It was not long, however, befoi-e Mr Bethell and his editor
were enlightened. A posse of Japanese police arrived on the scene
and demanded the immediate delivei-y of the Korean into their
custody as he had been released in error. Someone had blundered !
Mr Bethell flatly refused to hand Yang over. He raised the
British flag over the doorway and told the police that they had
better apply to the British Consul-General for permission to
rearrest his editor. Application was consequently made by the
Japanese Resident-General to Mr Cockburn for an order to
arrest Yang on British territory. Needless to say, the Bj'itish
Consul-General refused to comply with this lequest, for, apart
from the fact of his foi-mer protests against the illegal arrest of
the Korean having been totally disregarded, he was further
cojivinced that no just cause could be shown for the man's arrest.
The Consul then ref eri-ed the whole matter to the Foreign Office
ivi London and at the same time advised the Japanese Residency-
General that he would only act on instructions from home.
As a result of the firm attitude taken up by Mr Cockburn the
Japanese journalists in the peninsula commenced a campaign,
presumably without official sanction, of wiring to newspapers in
Japan grossly libellous and insulting messages about the British
Consul-General. Puerile and ridiculous information was cabled
to Japan to the effect that jMr Cockburn's attitude with regard
to Yang was caused by the fact that he himself, as well as
some of his staff, were implicated in the embezzlement of the
Korean funds of the misappi'opi'iation of which Yang had been
accused. Furthermore, local correspondents of Japanese news-
papers disseminated discreditable and false repoiis concerning
Mr Bethell. The feeling of the foreigners in Seoul at this moment
was unanimous in condemning the attitude of the Japanese
Resident-General as imdignified as dishonourable.
I myself visited Yang after his escape, or juistaken release,
and found him a moral and physical wreck. Having confirmed
to my satisfaction the facts of the affaii-, I attempted to warn
i(>5
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
the Japanese in Japan of what was really going on in Seoul. To
this end I wrote a long lettei- to The Japan Chronicle, one of the
leading dailies there. It was duly published.
Yang WPS finally delivei'ed up to the Japanese by ]\Ir Cockburn
aeting on instiiietions from the Foreign Offiee in London, who,
however, insisted l)erore he was handed over tliat the prisoner
should be pro7)iptIy brought to tiial and be humanely treated.
])iiring the interval between tlic mistaken lelease of Yang
and his return to the Japanese tlie Consul-Genei-al had been
the subject of thegiossest slanders in the Japanese Press. When
it is ]-emembei-ed that Mr Coekburn's attitude throughout the
whole matter was thoroughly in harmony with the honourable
traditions of the British Coiisular Service there is nothing sur-
jn-ising in his open letter to Mr Bethell on tlie subject of the
shameful libels in the Japanese Press. This letter was published
throughout the Far East ; its concluding lines are worth repro-
ducing :
"... I think that you are entitled to a formal expression of
ni}^ opinion, ^vhieh is that the mei-e fact of a statement being
telegra})hed to Japan l)y a Japanese newspaper conespondent
ought not to be considered as creating any presumption that
thei-e is the slightest basis of truth in it."
It needed something nioi-e than ordinary abuse to extract
fi'om the icpresentative of the Bi'itish Government in Korea
such a forcible expression of his opinion of the morality, or lack
of it, of Ja])anese journalists,
Yang's trial took place in the Chief Local Court of Seoul a
short time after his delivery up to the Japanese; and the trial
iesulted, as it only could, in the complete clearing of both IMr
Yaug and Mr Bethell from the chai'ges which directly, or in-
directly, had been ])referi'(^d against them. Yang was triumph-
antly aef[uitted of the charge of eml)ezzlement of the National
Debt Redem])tion Fund and was released, after tmdergoing for
several weeks the terrible ex])ericnees of a Korean prison hi the
i66
IMPRESSIONS OF THE JAPANESE REGIME
heat of tlie summci-, foi' wliicli, however, no compensation oi-
even apology was ever made to him. The wliole affair from the
beginning to the end threw an ugly hght on the metliods of th(;
Japanese administration in Korea ; and the Japanese Residency-
General suffered matei-ially in reputation. It further illustrated
how a lai'ge part of the Japanese Press was willing to publish any
slanderous storj^ affecting those who might oppose Japanese
domination in Korea. In the open court Yang received a
fair trial ; but is it too much to say that the sight of five foreign
consuls alone revived the dormant sense of Japanese justice
in Korea in 1908 ?
Much of the forepart of this chapter was written on the
Af I'ican \Tld and I had hoped that when I returned to the East
to be able to conclude the chapter by saying that the harsh
spirit of the Japanese regime in Korea of 1908 was a thing of the
past. To my regret I am imable to do so. Korea is still under
railitary domination. "Conspiracies" and "trials" are still
the order of the day. Yang lies rotting in prison ; and Japanese
justice in Korea is still the same as it was in 1908 !
167
CHAPTER XIV
FROM KOREA THROUGH MANCHURIA
THROUGH the courtesy of the editor of The Seoul Press
I was granted a pass over the Korean railway, whicli
runs to Wi ju from the capital through the north-eastern
part of the counti'y and to the borders of 3Ianehuria. I caught
the early morning train on the 21st August, bidding farewell
to all those who had been so kind to me during juy short stay
in Seoul. I also took with me one or two letters of introduction
to residents up north.
The train passed for the most part through low-lying ground,
crops of millet and rice being much in evidence. Low ranges of
hills lay on our right hand, bare, barren and almost entirely
denuded of vegetation or timljer. In many cases just one tiee
remained standing sadly in its lonehness — a silent witness to
the folly of the Koreans. Korea in parts is pract":" lly deforested
through the impi'ovidence of past generations, which ruthlessly
cut down the trees without let or hindrance and without any
attempt to replant districts denuded of timber. Under the control
of the Japanese, however, steps are being takeri to reclaim great
stj'ctelies of bare lands ; and I have heard that the Jaijanese
House of Mitsui has secured extensive areas with this object in
view.
On our way north we passed over many empty livej'-beds
wjiich, though then dry or nearly so, needed but twcnty-foui-
oi' foriy-eight houi's of rain to be convert c-d i)ito swollen
torrents, which inevitably swe])t away the primitive wooden
bridges. All the soil was of a very reddisJi coloui', almost of
a terra,-eotla shade, similai' to that I had ol^served in the
region Ix'twecii C']u'nuil])ho and the ca])ital. !\[ueh gi'anite was
lOcS
FROM KOREA THROTTJT IMAXCIITnUA
noticeable. A peculiar physical feature of this northern part of
Korea impressed itself out my nieniory. On one side of the I'iver
the bank was girdled with high hills which rose almost from the
extreme edge, whilst on the opposite bank was low-lying ground;
a mile or so down the river these conditions were revei'sed.
We reached Pingyang — the ancient capital — late in the
afternoon, the approach to this walled city being made over a
wooden bridge which spanned the river. The ominous creaking
and groaning of the timbers and trestles and the swaying of
the bridge under the weight of the moving train were anything
but reassurijig. I heaved a sigh of relief when we reached solid
ground again. To-day an iron structure replaces that rickety
bridge. It wa-:. exceedingly dusty round Pijigyang and one's
eyes became very sore from the reddish dust which every gust
of wind blew up in one's face. By ten o'clock in the evening we
reached our journey's end at Wiju, which is situated on the
Korean side of the River Yalu facing the town of Antung.
I crossed the river that night — an undertaking far from
pleasant, as it was blowing liard, miserably wet and very cold.
So strong was the current that I sat in a sampan for over an
hour while the coolies rowed me across.
I spent thr-^.e days in all in Antung ; and very profitably too.
Antung, or Antung-ken, as the Japanese term it, is the starting-
point of the Antung-^NIukden railway.
It is a t}7jically Chinese town, a faithful description of which,
even if space perinitted, would be entirely beyond my powers.
It is the Cliinesc poi't of customs for ^Manchuria, the customs
i&ervice being, as is well known, under the control of foreigners
— a part of the masterly system which owes its origin and
development to the late Sir Robert Hart.
The Japanese settlement in the towji was of no inconsiderable
size. The influence of the Japanese was even then very notice-
a})le. To-day it is all-powerful. I caught sight of some of the
timber that played such an important role in the late war lying
on the banks of the Yalu.
The hrst evening in Antung I spent in a Japanese theatre.
169
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
The plays staged wei'c most appealing and interesting, despite
tlie fnet that I was not very familiar with the laiiguage. At tlie
risk of wearying my readei; I will sketch ])rief!y the plots — l)oth
from seenes of old Ja])an.
The First act of 03ie ])lay de])ieted a bordei- quari-el between
two dainiios and their respective '■etainers. The second act
showed lis a })oor samurai wandering about the country unable
to buy food for his motherless little child. He placed the child
on the ])order of the two territories and left in quest of work.
The last scene illustrated rather touehingly the manner in which
the wife of each daimio nursed tlie child on alternate days.
Eventually the child became the mediiun_ for a reconciliation
between the two hostile chiefs, who. in the ( :.(!. became firm
friends. Tlie apj)eal to the audience, nondescript as it was, was
good and wliolesome.
The second play demonstrated to what an extent a samurai
would saci'ifice himsejf in the scr\icc of his lord. We were shown
a samurai of high I'ank betrothed to the daughter of a neigli-
boui'ing daimio who was, Iiowever, a deadly enemy to the
samurai's liege. This latter sent our heio to spy on the enemy's
cam]). The last scene ^ho^^•ed us tlie samurai cai'rying out his
purpose, though it meant tlie denial and the abandonment of his
betrothed in orde;' to accomplish his lord's will.
Tlie second evening in Antimg was s])ent in a " nmsic hall " ;
and I am not exaggei'ating v,-he]i I say that I saw thei'c as skilled
])erforiners a>nd as excellent "" tuiJi^ " as I have ever witnessed
at the Tivoli oi' the l^u'ilion in London. The ])rogj'annne was
excellent. It included '' tuiiis "' of juggiei's. conjurers, trick-
cyclists and a most uncanny mesmerist ^^■]lo ahnost gave one
the ciee])s. TJie ixsloiiuers wcic all (liincse and Japanese.
The distance Irom Aiitung lo ^fukdeii is only one liundi'ed
and eiglity-eighl miles, and the faet thai it then took two days
to accom])lisJi tliis jonrney ^vas tin' best argument in fa\"Our of
a s])c('dy change of gau^e. 1 had I lie gocid foiiime lO make this
joui'iiev belore ttic iiaii'ow-gauge line constructed during the
^va^ was discai'ded in ra\'oui' oi' a bi'oa.d-trauu'e track. I sav (I'ood
FROM KOKFA THROT^GH MANCHURIA
fortune, for the gain in comfort and time by the substitution
of tlie ))ioad-gaugc is at tlie expense of the beautiful scenery.
Many of the hills have now been tunnelled. The former line had,
owing to the necessity for haste, been carried roimd and over the
liills, fj-om which an exquisite panorama was unfolded. The
journey over this nai'i o\v -gauge line impressed me with the skill
and I'esoui'cefiilness of the Japanese engineers in laying down,
in the short space of a few nronths during the war, a service-
able track, without boring a single tunnel — and this in a hilly
and mountainous country !
To-day I believe there are more than thirty tunnels, the
longest being nearly a mile in length. The boring of these tunnels
will rob the preseiit route of much of its charm.
It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of the exquisite
panorama of beauty that unfolded itself before the eyes of the
traveller high up on those hills. Looking down, one saw the little
red-eai'th track, the course of the railway, winding its tortuous
course in and out shady valleys, green with luxuriant foliage,
and waving crops of rice and millet through which silvery
streams lazily wended their way to the distant mountains, their
blui>>li tints blending with the waving yellow of the ripening
grain. Weeping willows drooped in graceful languor over rippling
streams, whose waters were dammed at intervals with barriers
of stones to turn the primitive water-wheels for the homesteads.
Here and there one espied the blue-garbed labourer working
diligently in the fields ; ]Manehu caits drawn by teams of all
kinds of animals — oxen yoked with donkeys and mules, ho]-ses,
too, whilst a drove of pigs sometimes followed in the wake.
Amidst all this beauty and peaceful calm there was constant
rciuindcr of the tcri'iblc carnage that tliese placid hills and glades
had \vitncss(;d not so many moiiths before. Little green mounds —
the graves of the dead— met one's eyes on all sides. Rifle-pits
and trendies, now covered with Nature'-, cloak, recalled scenes
of blood aiid strife. We })assed on our way numerous villages,
which consisted of small iuits built oJ' stone, held together
with nmd, the walls j)lastered with chopped straw and clay.
171
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
The presence of a foreigner seemed to excite a certain amount
of curiosity and interest at the villages where we stopped. Small
groups of naked toddlers, stolid-faced men, carmine -painted
women and maidens with their peculiar Manchu head-dress,
would assemble round my cai'riagc and indulge in personal
comment. Fortunately — for I was pretty sure that they were
not complimentary^ — I was not able to understand their
remarks.
In one range of hills the sunmiits of five adjoining peaks were
flattened with astounding regularity, giving the impression of
turrets of an old castle. Most of the liills were thickly wooded,
their purple and blue tints clianging into and blending harmoni-
ously with the green of the verdui'e and foliage. Slate abounded
in some of the districts through which the line ran.
The walled town of Mukden is a long way from the railway
station and it took me a full hour's drive in a Russian droshky
to reach it. I put up at a Japanese hotel for other reasons be-
sides that of economy, as one is always sure to find cleanliness
at such places, if not exactly French cooking. To mc, however,
the eating of Japanese food was no hardship : my residence in a
temple in Tokio had trained my palate to everything save raw
seaweed.
I made a short stay of a couple of days in this city and obtained
a glimpse into the life of the Manchus in Manchuria. A walk
along the top of the massive wall that encircled the city gave a
comprehensive view of the town and of the surroundijig country.
A stroll through the thronged and busy streets, the sight of the
pig-tailed gendarmerie and militai'v, impressed me with the
great though still dormant vitality of China.
I had in my possession a " chit " to the American Consul from
his colleague in Seoul, the wording of which was deliglitfully
crisp and brief. Just the words : " My dear S — — , 1 coiumend
Mr Ridger to youi' tender mercies. Youis V ." Unfoitunately
the Consul was absent, so I missed a pleasant chat and a cocktail !
I met one or two very charming Japanese gentlemen in
IMukdeii, and iu Llieir company visited Ilokriugo \\]i(Te tlie old
172
FROM KOREA THROUGH MANCHURIA
tombs of the JManchu kings are situated. A pleasant drive
brought us to the thick grove of pines which enclose the resting-
place of the dead ]Manchu rulers i-cckoned to be many centuries
old. Some handsomely carved images of dragons, elephants and
horses lined the tiled terraces and courtyard, each image being
carved out of one piece of stone. The tiles, though many
hundieds of years old, were still in splendid condition, the glaze
not a jot inferior to the best that our potteries can to-day turn
out. Surreptitiously I appropriated a small piece.
The main line fj-om Mukden to Cliangchun, the terminus
of the Japanese railway, was then in course of reorganisation,
and the supply of modern rolling stock was still very limited.
I was fortunate therefore in catching a train made up of the
newest type of Pullman car. The seating accommodation how-
ever was in the form of arm-chairs — very comfortable in the
daytime but rather tiring at night, " sleepers " not yet being
in use.
To-day all these small inconveniences are a thing of the past,
for the South Manchuria Railway is considered to be one of
the best-equipped and managed lines in any part of the world
— a credit to Japan's commercial men. Even "chronic kickers "
would have difficulty to find fault or any genuine cause for
complaint.
When leaving jNIukden I caught sight of a vast expanse of
little green mounds — tlie Chinese cemetery of the town. The
(■hincse l)ui'y their dead " topside "—above the ground, not
below, as we do.
Well-built Russian houses lined the course of the railway with
Russian names still in evidence. Japanese officials inhabited
them, though looking somewhat out of place. One felt large-
bearded Russiajis should have stood in tlie lofty doorways of
those solid buildings, instead of dapper and rather consequential
little Japanese officers.
Beside this evidence of the change of ownership trenches
and rifle-pits, roofless houses wrecked by shells, together with
many little groups of graves, reminded one only too forcibly of
173
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
the blood that had been shed and the thousands of hves lost in
the struggle that liad occurred but three years before.
The crops were looking splendid. Manchuria, which I in my
youthful ignorance had imagined to be an almost barren plain,
proved to be one of the most fertile territories I visited. Tall
waving fields of kaoliang (millet), flourishing crops of beans and
vegetables, testified to the j'ichness of parts of this country.
Numerous reports were then cun-ent about the raids and the
damage inflicted by the Hunghutzes — the brigands of Man-
churia. Instances of attacks on the train were not uncommon.
The great height to which the kaoliang grows affords shelter for
these robbers, who utilise its cover in their attacks on the
villages.
We passed at noon Tiehling Heights, the hills there being
pitted and scarred by the hurricane of shot and shell that had
swept them during the masterly retreat of the Russians from
their position. By eight o'clock in the evening we reached the
terminus of the S.^M.R. ; just a short distance from Changchun
is Kwangchangtsu, whei'c the Russian sphere of influence begins.
It will be remembered that in 190.5 the Japanese acquired from
the Russians the main line of the Chinese Eastern Railway from
Daii'cn to Changchun, with its branch lines and the coal mines
at Fusliun.
A drive in a droshky in pitch darkness over the jnost execrable
roads bi'ought me to the temporary railway hotel, where
to-day, I am told, stands one of the handsomest hotels in the
East. I forgot to ask my infoi'mant whether tliei-e are some
slightly improved roads. I sincerely hope so I It was not a drive ;
it was a series of jum]3s over jniniature hills and dales, over
young moujitains and ])i('('ipiecs, into youthful valleys and
gullies. I I'cached the hotel, however, in safety- — though breath-
less ! My driver would \\ii\c made his foitune in a London circus ;
the way he mani])ulate(l Ww leins and shaved corners and ti'ecs
was I'emarkable. A (hive thi'ough the town of Kwangchanfftsu
the following day revealed to me even Avorsp specimens of
" tlioiotiglilares " than those 1 had negotiated the pievious m'ght.
174
'3Z5HI3 lit: ;^
FROM KOREA THROUGH MAXCIIURIA
I marvelled then how in that pitch darkness i had reached the
hotel alive ! As Oregon is always associated in my mind with
picking strawberries so is the Chinese town of Kwangchangtsu
with diabolical roads. The illustration produced but faintly
conveys an idea of the thick mire and the general state of the
ground. The heavy rains convert these so-called roads into
morasses and when the winter sets in they arc frozen hard in
the same mould.
In this town I visited a Chinese theatre. I admired the hand-
some if somewhat showy dresses of the actors and actresses. I
admired the energy of the orchestra. But most of all I admired
the wonderful lung power of the principal artists ! The chief
impression I obtained was that the leading lady was endeavour-
ing to sing to beat the band — not in tlie vulgar sense — literally !
On more than one occasion slie won — she drowned the band and
I heard her voice. When she lost, or didn't beat the band, I only
Iviiew she was singing by observing the veins on her forehead
swell almost to bursting point. At any indication, however, of
her victory being too prolonged the band \\ould be stimulated
to further efforts, and, as Chinese instrumental nmsic is decidedly
powerful, a most terrible, deafening noise was the result.
It was in this part of the world that I met my first prince —
a Russian. I had been given a letter of introduction by the
Russian Consul in Seoul to Prince Mestchersky, the Consul in
this town. He was a most charming man and as courteous to un-
important me as though I had been some distinguished traveller.
He was also, I think, one of the most splendid specimens of
manhood I have ever seen. He very amiably granted my request
for a pass over the Russian line to Harbin, and if I had wished it
would have extended it to the bojxlers of Russia. I gratefully
thanked him and diplomatically suggested that a return pass
would fully meet my modest requirements. This was granted.
Needless to say, tliis Russian ofiicial spoke English fluently and
other Continental languages besides liis own. I wo]ider if my
reack'r shares the foolish and erroneous idea, unfortunately
still .'^o prevalent in England, that Russia has not her full share
175
A WAXDEIiER'S TRAIL
of accomplished and cultured gentlemen, I obtained, it is true,
only a glimpse of the nationals of Russia up in this part of the
world — the fringe of tlie gicat Russian Kmpire ; but it was
enough to show me liow foolish was the anti-Russian feeling
that pervaded the British Islcs during the late war- — as false
and as foolish as was the absurdly pro-Japaiiese sentiment. One
fears that the very great ignorance of us British — our ignorance
of every coimti-y beyond the little islands in which we dwell — •
is one of the chief cau'-es of international ill-feeling.
I was a godsend to the one solitary Eiu'opoan resident of the
hotel, a Scotsman representing a Shanghai business firm. We
beguiled many hoins with games of American billiards, of which
game we wcie both equally ignorant : consequently we were
perfectly matched.
The wcatliei- sirice my arrival in Manchiu'ia had been very
lovely — hot and sunny ; so taking advantage of the fact my
companion and I o]i tlie following day. Simday. took a stroll
roimd the outskirts of tlie to^vn. We obtained a good glimpse
of the agriculturiil methods, as also of the products of the district.
The ero])s looked very healthy. ^lelons. millet, beans — all were
in a llourisliiiig condition. Toinatoes grew well but no trouble
seemed to be taken to tend them, much of the fruit simply
rotting by contact with the soil : doubtless the ubiquitous pig
thrived on tliem.
A ten-hours' ride on the Russian line brought me to Harbin.
Though only ;i h-w mik's s(/])araied the Ja]ianese railway
terjuinus of Cliaiigeliuu from llie Russian sta;tiag-})oint at
Kwa]igehaiigisii. tin,' Irair-ition \\iis almost that of Asia to
Europe.
In the ti'ain to Ilarbiu {lure \\-ei-e many Russian officers
travelling norili. and agaiust IIkIj' towcriiig l)odles my five feet
ele\'f]i inches of I'.agilc' IVaiiii' scciacd ([Uitc ecli])sed. In eonvers-
ijig with ihcm. or in iii\' ( adca\'oui',s to do s(.>. I miu'dei'ed tlie
(ic'/iiian language, as ihonI (jf tliciu knew no Kuglish. Tins pai't
of the ^\■o^^d is about the- only ])laee I have e\"ei' \"isited where
Ijiglish has jjcc 11 of lit lie Usc. I had to blunder along with bits
176
FROM KOREA THROUGH MANCHURIA
of Japanese and twisted Chinese and odd phrases of French and
German. The fact that English is so universally spoken, or at
least known, is, I think, the main cause that the modern English-
man's talent for learning any other language than his own has
nearly atrophied.
The sight of some of the fine buildings of New Harbin and the
general European tone of the town were very refreshing after
months of Oriental atmosphere. The buildings looked finer than
they really were.
Prior to the Russian occupation of Harbin and the building of
the Chinese Eastern Railway, it was the site of nothing more
than a small and unimportant Chinese village. The construction
of the railroad, of extensive workshops and warehouses soon
produced a change.
In Seoul I had been warned that Harbin was one of the
"toughest " places in the East, or in the West for that matter,
as the town was suffering from the slump that had set in — the
aftermath of the boom during tlie war. The condition of things
was certainly no better than that of which I had been told. My
friend Mr Harrison's opinion of Harbin's moials, or lack of them,
coincides with mine. He says ^ : "A word of friendly advice
to the stranger in Harbin. Steer clear of dai'k corners ! The
Grouzin, or Georgian, is abroad in the land more especially
when the sun has gone down ; he is a walking arsenal of Brown-
ings and poniards ; is constantly on the lookout for lost sheep ;
and the belated wayfarer who is not punctual in his response to
the sudden invitation ' hands up ' (rookee vverkh ! ) as often
as not never gets any further than Harbin. For unfortunates of
tliis description there is certainly a ghastly appropriateness in
the esotei'ic meaning of the word Harbin which is said to be
dei'ived from the Chinese ' Hoahin ' meaning a ' big tomb.' These
(icoi-gians are the curse not only of Harbin but of all North
Manchuria and East Siberia. They are never known to wo.-k
and they are rarely without a good supply of hard cash."
Nevertheless living up to my motto of " not to look for trouble
^ " Peace or War — East of Baikal ? " (E. J. Harrison).
M 177
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
but be always ready for it," I roamed safely round the town,
visiting in the evenings the cafes, listening to the music and
watching the comings and goings of the many well-dressed
Russian men and women. The sound of a violin was very re-
freshing aftci- the unmusical samisen of Japan. Cinematograph
shows were numerous, as also were the demi-mondaines that
frequented tliem.
The town of Har])in has three sections : the New Town,
Harbin Old Town, and Harbin-Pristan. The New Town is, one
might say, the European or Russian pait of the city ; in this
part are tlic j-ailway olJiccs, banks and churches, etc. The Old
Town is a poorer though more animated edition of the New;
whilst Harbin-Pristan is the I'cal business quaitcr. The bean
is the sta])le commodity. Harbin is also becoming j'carly more
impoi'tant as a convenient export centre for iloui" and corn.
After an enjoyable stay of three days in Hai'bin, a stay made
doubly plcasiint by the kindness shown me by Russians and
Japanese alike, I returaed over the line to Mukden. Ti-avelling
south, I ])assed Liaoyang and Ta-Sliih-Chiao, memorable scenes
of some of the bloodiest lights that have ever shamed the world,
and reached Dairen at daybreak on the following day. I was
not at all sorry to leave the train.
178
Mi Klii;\; lilK TdMl;- iil-- THI-: Mam lir IvMI'KRoK
II \Kl;!\
CHAPTER XV
IMPRESSIONS OF DAIREN AND PORT ARTHUR
I FEAR my brief stay in Dairen, or Dalny, as it used to be
called, was one on which I do not much care to look back.
Save for a visit to Port Arthur and a brief moment of
interest when the Chinese Viceroy of Manchuria arrived in
Dairen, I barely moved from the hotel doors. I was both physic-
ally and mentally run down, and suffered from a black mood.
Here I first realised that even a young man could suffer from
overwrought nerves. Three months of nearly steady travel since
leaving Tokio, including some twenty-one days on the railway,
during A\iiicli period my brain had been ceaselessly engaged
in absorbing information, impressions and ideas, had quite
tired me out. I was also beginning to feel the strain of twenty
months of wandering in various countries in my unorthodox
way, more or less penniless ; and to realise that I was burning
the candle at both ends.
The garden-party given in lionour of the Viceroy's visit, to
which I was courteously invited, was a very pretty and successful
fete. The Japanese are certainly ideal hosts. This raises a point
to which I would refer. I have frequently heard it alleged that
the Japanese are hospitable to strangers only from interested
motives, ideal hosts only when it suits them. I do not deny that
Japan is fully alive to the necessity of entertaining sumptuously
and of being very agreeable to distinguished strangers from
purely interested motives ; but what nation to-day is not equally
alive to this necessity and does not do the same ? Japan can no
more be accused of ulterior motives on this score than can
England, Germany or the Argentine.
My tra\'els through Japan, Korea and Manchuria testify to
179
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
the falseness of the aceusation of insincerity in hospitality
directed against the Japanese. Although I was merely an
unimportant stranger in their midst, with no power to do
them good or harm and unable to requite tlicij- kindness, I was
generously treated by all classes, both official and private.
After my fifth day in Dairen I pulled myself together and
visited Port Arthur. The sun was shining brightly. Everything
looked very fresh. The hills, with the mountains in the back-
ground, appeared rich and green and the shining watei's of the
bay brilliantly reflected the sun's rays. But notwithstanding the
peaceful aspect of everything, and though it was full three years
since this celebrated fortress was in the awful throes of war
it was not difficult to imagine the bay covered again with war-
like craft vomiting showers of shot and shell ; to see again the
hills draped in smoke through which could just be discerned thick
masses of struggling and lighting humanity ; to hear again the
shrieking of the shells, the booming of tlie guns, and the moans
of the dying. Stern i-ealities in the shape of roofless and dis-
mantled houses, buildings with gaping holes, walls in ruins,
supplied the necessary stinuilus to one's imagination.
I first visited 203 Metre Hill, the scene of some of the
bloodiest fights the world has ever seen or heai'd of. An hour's
carriage drive over terrible roads, but through ])retty count ly,
brought me to the foot of this famous, or infamous, hill — the
highest emiTicncc in the chain which protected the west side of
tlie t()\v]i. The to]) of the hill was destroyed by the terrible fire
that was poured on it ; its former shape is no longer recognisable.
After neaily an hour's climb I reached the sunmiit. The sides
of the hill were everywhere scored and furi'owed with shell-
marks.
Nearly all the gi'ucsome I'clics of the terrible conflict had been
gutJK red u]). thougli licic and there I came aci'oss a fi'agmeut
of a soldier's coat, a few bones and some rusty cartridge-cases.
On the top of the hill stood the remains of one of the Russian
guns, the stock of which had been shattered to pieces by a shell.
The carriage coiisisted of only a few twisted and rent fragments
i8o
fe^
<\ Au'iiirK; \ |ai' \\i-;-i-: Mi:\mki\i
A 1-. iKi \i l'''Ki' AKiiirK \i ri:i< !;• iMI; \kI'Mi:\
IMPRESSIONS OF DAIRF.N AND PORT ARTHUR
of iron riddled with shot. Tons and tons of powdered and
splintered rock were strewn on the summit.
The hill commands a view of the whole of the western and
most of the eastern part of the harbour, and looks down on all
the fortified hills adjoining. Commanding as it does an extensive
view of the surrounding country, the hill was the veritable key
to Port Arthur. Its occupation by the Japanese sealed the doom
of the fortress.
It was bad for the Russians that they neglected to build
defence works on this hill ; for it was not till the two adjoining
hills^ — 174 Metre Hill and Takagaki^ — -had fallen that they
started fortifying this position. Lines of trenches and two
lines of wire entanglements were then immediately made, the
trenches being strongly protected with iron plates and rails.
All the world loiows of the despei'ate efforts made by the
Japanese to occupy the ground : how they were repulsed time
and again, leaving behind them companies of dead mowed down
by the Russian fire ; how it was not till after weeks and weeks
of terrible and madly heroic fighting, weeks of bombardment,
and attack after attack, that the hill at last was captured. I
was told by some Japanese officers that many of the Russian
gunners went raving mad. All the Russian guns were trained on
certain sights carefully measured. The flickering rays of the
searchlight would reveal to the defenders a company of Japanese
marching to attack. The deadly white ray of light would dwell
on a mark, and when the attacking force came within the fatal
zone the Russian guns would belch their liail of shot and shell.
When the smoke dissipated there was revealed to the eyes of
heaven just a mass of writhing mutilated humanity^ — and another
company of Japanese soldiers marching to their death over the
dead bodies of their brothers and friends. Fifteen thousand men
fell on that bloody hill, eight thousand of them being Japanese.
No wonder men went mad !
I next visited the north fort of East Kei-Kwan-zan. This fort
was the strongest permanent works in this line of defence. Here
it was that General Krondrachenko and most of his staff were
i8i
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
killed by one of the first eleven-inch shells used by the Japanese
in their bombardment of Poit A rthur. Tcnible indeed must have
been tlie fire and the force of the dynamite employed to break
down tlie massive stone parapet and defences. Surrounded by a
hu<^e diteli the foii was all but impregnable. A mass of ruijis,
gigantic blocks of masonry lying Jierc and there, twisted and torn
girders, tons of debris and shattered stone, met one's eyes on all
sides. Nature now has covei-ed a great part of the wreckage with
her peaceful cloak of green as though to hide from view the
I)itiful woik of Man.
Returning, I passed the chain of forts adjoining, showing
trenches and hills scored all over with deep holes caused by
the bursting shells. These holes in the hills, viewed from a dis-
tance, presented a most peculiar sight. At the foot of all the hills
could be seen little green graves banked with stone.
I concluded my visit to Port Arthur by inspecting the War
Souvenir Museum. The building is surrounded by defence works,
trenches, wire entanglements, etc., and gave one a good idea of
how some of those redoubtable forts I had just visited must liave
appeared before being reduced to the condition in which they
are now. Models also of all the foi'ts can be seen by the en-
lightened visitor who wishes on his return home to talk glibly
of abattis, parapets, etc. Captured guns and cannon, various
weapons and war materials of all kinds, includiiig scaling ladders,
bomb-proof shelters and hand grenades (soine made out of
condensed milk tins) — in short, everything which the devilish
ingenuity and perverted intelligence of MaTi has invented for the
destruction of Man, gave one a vivid idea of the horrors of war !
182
CHAPTER XVI
DOWN THE CFIINESE COAST
I LEFT Dairen for China on the 14th September, sailing on
the Kobe Maru, one of the new steamers that had just
been put on the lun to Shanghai by the enterprising South
Manchuria Railway. On the morning of the 16th we entered
the Yangtse.
One could hardly describe the Yangtse as picturesque, for its
banks are low and flat and the water is very mudd}^ in appear-
ance. We anchored off Woosang shortly after noon and docked
in Shanghai just before sunset. Woosang lies at the junction of
the Hwang-pu and the most southern arm of the Yangtse.
Whilst in Shanghai I endeavoured to ai-range a passage in
some westward-bound freighter ; for I had now decided to make
my way home by way of Boston, as I had pledged myself to
visit my Alaskan friend thei'e — and what was an exti-a two or
three thousand miles to me then ? As my efforts were unsuccess-
ful, I decided to return to Moji, in Japan, where I thought I
should have a better opportunity of accomplishing my object,
Moji being a much frequented coaling port. Fuithcrmoje, the
greater part of my baggage still remained in Japan, where I had
left it prior to visiting Korea.
On the evening of the 24th I left Shanghai in a Japanese coal
tramp. After a smooth trip of two days we arrived off Kuchinotzu,
where the steamer put in for orders. Receiving instjuctions to
proceed to Miike to load a cargo of coal for China, wc steamed
for tliat port and berthed in the new Mitsui dock eaily in the
morning. I spent a few profitable hours in Miike, gaim'ng an
insight into the coal industry. Miike is the Barry docks of Japan.
Travelling north I passed some very pretty scenery, the land
183
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
being in its autumn cloak. In the evening I reached Moji. I
spent a few days here — fruitless days as regards the fulfilment
of my object, but far from so in respect to the pleasant and
restful time I passed in the quiet household of a Japanese family.
And I appreciated the change after my tiring wanderings in
Korea and Manchuria.
On the 5th October I said farewell to Japan. Early in the
morning of the 12th the high Peak of Hong-Kong appeared in
view, and by daylight we were anchored in the harbour. Dis-
embarkation was decidedly wet work, as tlie north-east monsoon
was blowing hard and a typhoon had been signalled the preced-
ing day in the neighbourhood of the colony.
Perhaps a word about typhoons — the scourge of the Eastern
Seas — may not prove out of place here. In the Far East typhoons
are most prevalent during the months from July to October,
that of September being the worst. From December to May
they seldom occur, though a few have been reported during this
period. Typhoons are most frequently met with in the vicinity
of Luzon and Hainan Island (Philippine Group) and off the
south-east corner of Japan^ — -roughly, between latitude 9° N.
and 45° N. As a rule the typhoon originates in the east to the
south-east of the Philippines and travels in a west to north-
westerly direction, at a rate of anything from five to thirty
miles an hour. The force of the wind near the centre cannot be in
any way accurately estimated ; somewhere between one hundred
and twenty to two hundred miles per houi-. It generally seems
to blow Avith the greatest fuiy when near the land.
To the navigator at sea the earliest sign is the appearance of a
fluffy, feathery kind of cloud, of the cirrus type,^ travelling
from the east in a northerly direction. This, coupled with a rise
in the barometer, and a clear dry day, is generally suflicient
warning to the observant sailor. The usual ugly and threatening
appearance of the weather which heralds the approach of most
1 Caused, it is considered, by a rising column of moist air from the
centre oi the typhoon, or cyclone, condensing in the higher levels of the
atniospliere.
184
DOWN THE CHINESE COAST
storms then follows, with a confused and tunibhng sea coming
from the direction in which the typhoon is approaching. Within
its immediate vicinity- — the danger zone — there is great baro-
metric disturbance (the barometric pressure sometimes falls
to as low as 28"50 inches and subsequently rises as the centre
recedes).
It is not customary, however, for a mariner to feel any great
curiosity about the centre of a typhoon. If he be wise, directly
he notices the indications that one is approaching, he goes full
speed out of its track ; and in these days of high-powered
steamers it is not a very hard task, given sufficient time, to
avoid the course of these disturbances. In the days of the old
windjammer it was a more difficult task.
The United States Hydrographic Office issues monthly pilot
charts of the Pacific, Atlantic and Indian Oceans, and these
charts are of immense assistance to the navigator in these waters.
They give him a mass of valuable information regarding the
prevailing winds for the month, their force and direction, the
track of t\"phoons or other depressions, the force and direction
of the currents, the last reported jDOsition of derelicts, etc.
These charts are furnished free, as an equivalent for service
rendered, to mariners who assist by filling in the daily weather
forms issued by the United States Hydrographic Office in its
work of collecting and distributing data.
Hong-Kong is one of the prettiest spots ever designed by
Nature. The harbour is one of the finest in the world. It consists
of a sheet of water between the island and the mainland of
China and has an area of ten square miles. With its diversified
scenery and shipping, it always presents an imposing spectacle.
The town is picturesquely situated, the houses rising tier upon
tier on the face of the Peak to a height of many hundred feet.
The slopes of the island are now covered with young forests, the
result of an excellent afforestation scheme of the Government,
which has wonderfully improved the climate of the colony. At
night-time, however, Hong-Kong is seen at its best, and affords
a sight not readily forgotten.
185
A WANDERER'S TRATT.
The climate of Hong-Kong to-day is as healthy as it formerly
was the reverse, the improvement being due to the system of
drainage, and the afforestation scheme referred to. In England
the prevailing idea is that Shanghai and Hong-Kong are
simply graveyards on account of the so-called deadly climate.
That might have been true of these places fifty years back, but
it is far from so to-day. If those who iiold that opinion could but
see some of the hale and hearty residents of these two ports,
w'ho have lived the best part of their lives there and have,
besides, managed to raise very healthy offspring, they would, I
think, very speedily change their eri'oneous idea. There is,
however, one disease, with the germs of which the blood of all
who have i esidcd for any length of time in Cathay is inoculated.
It is a disease that cannot be cured ; once inoculated, the blood
is ever tainted. The disease is one known to the Eastern world
as maskeeitis. Its chief symptom is the victim's more or less
complete indifference to the trivial worries and troubles of this
world. It is the demonstration of the true Eastern mood. The
young " griffin," hale, full of vim and vigour, is at first aghast
at the inroads of this disease. In his youthful strength he despises
it ; he next begins to respect it ; then fights it ; eventually,
he succumbs to it. One example : the " griffin," after his first
month is over, comes up against his first molehill, erected by
an almond-eyed Chink. He fumes, he threatens, he blusters
and swears ; then finally confides his trouble to one of his elder
friends, who merely remarks laconically : '" Well, maskee ! "
Disgusted at this lack of sympathy the "griffin" growls and
withdraws. Another few months pass and his almond-eyed
"boy" one morning blandly remarks: "Master have makee
give away his one piecee watch ? " " What do you mean ? "
ejaculates the startled "griffin." "Me no savee," calmly re-
marks the " boy." "Me no can see ; me thinkee you makee give
to No. 1 nice girl." " D- — n you ! " bursts out the infui'iated
"future-taipan." " You catehee oi I knock h- — 1 out of you ! "
" Can do," replies the boy. " Me again makee look see." The
watch is, of course, not forthcoming ; so again the young man
j86
DOWN THE CHINESE COAST
pours his tale of woe into the ears of one of his seasoned friends,
who only replies : " Oh, maskee ! Your boy's stolen it ; sack
liim ! " " No ! I'll run him in. I'll go to the police now !
I'll ! " His f i-iends smile (they know the Hong-Kong police ^)
and remark: "Oh! maskee!" At this the goaded youth
bursts out : " D — ^n ! Life seems all maskee ! " Quite right !
youngster, you're wiser now than you were six months ago.
Life is, indeed, all maskee !
I was fortunate in arianging from Hong-Kong a passage to the
West. I struck a bargain with the captain of a westAvard-bound
tramp to work as his purser to Boston and to pay the sum of
twenty pounds. This saved me a good twenty pounds. There
were now left only a very few pounds out of my initial capital
of fifty ; just enough, with careful handling, to get me home.
The ship I joined was a spar-deck cargo boat, loading a general
cargo for America. She had already part loaded in Japan and
had yet to load in the Straits Settlements before starting her
voyage westward.
When we were on the eve of leaving Hong-Kong, the approach
of a t\^hoon was signalled. The t\^hoon cones were raised
early in the morning. Towards afternoon the wind increased,
and more ugly and threatening became the weather. The whole
harbour was now emptied of its small craft. A few lighters lay
alongside our steamer, from which we were quickly loading the
last remnants of our cai'go, the coolies working against time
so as to get away. Pitiful almost was their fear that they would
be detained too long ! At last they cast off their lines, willy-nilly,
although some of the cargo was not yet on board. All the
steamers lying in the liarbour had steam up ; an imcanny air
of suspense pervaded the atmosphere. All were waiting for the
t\^hoon to strike. When the sun sank, it sank amidst clouds of
fearful shape, all tinted with that ominous oi-angc-gold hue,
devilishly beautiful, but with a beauty that speedily puts the
' Hong-Kong is the worst policed city in the Ivast. The babel and
pandemonium at all hours of the night, its three-times-a-weclc robberies,
would make a Moorish city blush.
187
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
fear of God into one at sea ! Towards midnight thewind increased
into a gale. Our second anchor was dropped.^ From then, how-
ever, the wind lessened in force. In the morning we learnt that
the typhoon had passed to the eastward, Hong-Kong having
just escaped from being in its track. Therefore only stormy
weather had reached us.
By noon we had left Hong-Kong and were steaming south for
Singapore. A smooth passage of six days brought us to that
island. We anchored off the town shortly after daybreak and
it was not long before the hatches were off and the winches
busily hauling up cargo.
It took us eight days to complete loading. During this time I
had plenty of opportunity to visit the town and its outskirts,
though, apart from some beautiful ti'opical foliage, there was
little with which to occupy one's attention.
We left Singapore on the evening of the 28th and steamed
through the Malacca Straits for Penang. On the morning of
the 30th we sighted the island and anch.ored off the town
shortly after noon. The entrance to Pulo Penang needs careful
navigation, owing to the mudbanks that lie close to the deep-
water channel. ]Many fishing stakes also have to be avoided.
It rained for a good part of the time that we lay off Penang,
and this considerably delayed the loading of our cargo, as much
of the produce was perishable. The rainfall of the island is fairly
heavy owing to the influence of the regular monsoons, and rain
falls more or less during all seasons of the year. The climate
is nevertheless not unhealthy, being somewhat similar to, say,
that of the Canary Islands. Tlie climate of Singapore, though
lying just a degree north of the equator, is also good.
Penang settlement includes the island — about one hundred
and seven square miles m area — and a strip of land on the
opposite coast, known as the Wellesley Pj'ovince ; also some
small islands, the Dindings. A narrow strait, varying from
' In the typhoons of '06 and 'oS full-powered steamers lying in the
harbour were dragging their anchors — and yet steaming full speed
ahead '
188
•*<t 4 *_
. . )
DOAVN THE CHINESE COAST
two to ten miles in width, separates Penang Island lioni the
mainland. This settlement has been in British hands since the
days of the East India Company, having been ceded to them in
1786 by the Rajah of Kedah. Penang soon eclipsed the settle-
ment of Malacca, one of the Straits Settlements, and was elevated
to the rank of a presidency. In 1826 Penang and Malacca were
incorporated, together with Singapore, and all designated by the
title they to-day retain. The increased prosperity of Singapore,
however, correspondingly decreased that of Penang ; so the
principal seat of government was transferred to the former
settlement.
Penang has a certain amomit of importance as a con-
venient coaling and naval station. It is also the virtual seat of
government for the Province of Wellesley, which must always
remain an important centre of British influence. Penang's
produce for export is not inconsiderable. Spices, cocoa-nut
and tapioca are sent away in fair quantities and the island has
also souiC trade with the Dutch Settlements in Sumatra. The
betel-nut (the name " Penang " being the Malay for betel-nut)
is also lai-gely grown in the island.
We finished loading on the morning of the 2nd November,
and by noon had started our voyage to America.
1^9
CHAPTER XVI 1
FROM THE STRAITS TO EAST AMERICA VIA SUEZ
STEERING a course N. 85° W., wc passed Pulo Perak at
nine o'clock. The following day we had left the island
of Sumatra in our wake. When out of the Malacca
Straits wc steamed due west. The weather was lovely, hot and
sunny, yet cooled by the south-west monsoon, which was all
but at an end.
As wc were not going to coal until we reached Perim Island
(at the entrance to the Red Sea), we had taken on l)oard a large
quantity of coal in Singapore ; not only in the bunkers but also
on deck. I used, therefore, to spend one hoiii- every afternoon
in the self-imposed task of shovelling coal fi'om the deck into
the bunkers. It was excellent exercise and also made me
appreciate a good bath. I spent my mornings with the ship's
papers — manifest, crew and cu^^tom lists, etc. — which kept me
nicely employed. I fear by now much of tlie novelty of life on
board a f leight steamer had worn off ; the old Santolo had helped
considerably in that direction. Still an\-thing in connection with
the navigation of the vessel attracted me just as keenly as ever,
and I spent many hours with the captain in his chartroom and
with the officers on the bridge. It was not lojig before my purser's
job was interpreted as that of fourth of lice r. Many evenings we
practised the ^loi-se Code, signalling to each other and to passing
steame]-s. P. & O. mail steamers now and then condescended
to answer us ; we ^vere only a tramp !
On the 8th wc passed Poiirt de Cialle, the most southerly port
in Ceylon, now quite outi'ivalled by Colombo. We ran in near
the shore and signalled the ship's iiame aiid number to Lloyd's
station there, with the recpiest to be reported to our owncis.
FROM THE STRAITS TO EAST AMERICA
It was full moon that night. It had risen alter a very beautiful
sunset. There is a great peace and calm in the nights on the
Indian Ocean.
After a week of lovely weather we sighted Sokotra Island.
We kept well clear of the shore, as the currents are strong and
dangerous, skirting the northern part of the island. It was not
long before the African coast came in view. The north-east
monsoon was blowing fairly hard when at daybreak, two days
afterwards, we sighted the high mountains behind Aden. We
passed within sight of the town, the sandy soil being clearly
visible from the deck of the steamer. With the Arabian coast
in sight all day we reached the island of Perim at sundown.
Entering Perim we had a very narrow squeak of going full
speed on the rocks, owing to the steering gear jamming at the
critical moment. When just about to enter, the captain gave the
order to the quartermaster at the wheel to put the helm hard
over. At tliat moment our attention on the bridge was attracted
by certain signals that were being morsed to us from the shore.
But only for a moment ; for the fact of the ship's course not
altering drew the notice of all. Turning to the quartermaster,
the captain snapped : "Hard a'port — I told you ! " The stupid
helmsman— a Malay — replied : " No can turn, no can turn
wheel ! " In a flash it dawned on all of us that insufficient steam
had been turned on ; hence the wheel was jammed. I was the
nearest to the companion-way, and almost before the words
were out of the captain's mouth I was rushing aft, barking my
shins badly in doing so, to turn on more steam on the steering-
engine. The captain, immediately he saw the position, rang down
for the engines to go full speed astej-n. Three times^ — four times
■ — ^in his anxiety he rang for extra full speed astern. The ship's
%vay slowly decreased — ^but oh ! so slowl}'- — and by the time the
helm could be put over the steamei- only cleared the breakers
by a few yards. They were very anxious and trying moments !
I can still hear the captain's heartfelt cry : " My God ! I've lost
my ship now ! "
Perim, at the best of times, is not an easy port to enter, as a
191
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
very strong current generally runs athwart the entrance. The
island is a British possession. It occupies an excellent position
as a coaling station and from a strategical point of view is also
important. Otherwise it is of small value ; the soil is poor and
spai-sely covered with coarse grass and stunted shrubs. The
island is of coral foundation, the subsoil being sand. All the coal
stocked there is Welsh, imported by the Perim Coal Company.
By midnight we had finished coaling and shoitly afterwards
steamed out. Our course now lay through the Straits of Bab-el-
Mandcb, which are no more than fourteen miles at their greatest
width. Just bcfoi-e daybreak we passed Moklia, one of the chief
trading ports on the east coast of tlic Red Sea, in the Yemen
province of Arabia. This is one of the Turkish possessions.
TJie Red Sea is of great depth — in some places being over
one thousand fathoms — but is studded with rocky islets and
hidden coral banks, even in the eliannel used by steamers.
Cautious navigation is therefore essential. This is rather more the
case in the southern than in the northei'n parts.
We passed one large group of rocky islands, the Zebayir
Group, in tjic afternoon, and when dark we sighted the light of
Jebcl Tcir- — another high rocky islaiid.
The shores on botji sides of the Red Sea are flat and sandy,
high ranges of mountains stretching behind on both sides. The
Red Sea and its littoral migiit 1)e almost termed a valley be-
tween two high ranges of momitains-~t]ie l()f^y ta])l(^lands of
Arabia on the east and the mountainous heights of Africa on the
west. The Red Sea is not exactly tlic colour the name would
suggest. The origin of the name is faniiliai- to us all — on account
of so nuich red spawn of fish at times noticeable in these waters.
Only once did I catch sight of ])atehes of this s])awn.
The weather was then ficsh and cool. Dui-ing the months of
Jnly and August it is not uneoninion for the thennomc^ler at
m'ght-time to register 105° ; iiideed, the Red Sea during these
months is, not even excepting the Persian Ciulf, the hottest place
in the world.
At noon of the fourth day we ])assed the island of St John and
192
FROM THE STRAITS TO EAST AMERICA
a little later the large reef of the Daedalus. Early morning the
day following we entered the Gulf of Suez. On the promontory
that lies between this gulf and the Gulf of Akaba is the momitain
group of Jcbel Musa, whieh includes Mount Sinai. As no river
of any description discharges itself into the Red Sea, it is not
sur])rising that much of the region around is a rainless desert.
We anchored off Suez at noon of the 23rd, the passage through
tlic Red Sea having occu2)ied five days. The distance from Perim
to Suez is about twelve hundred miles. Since the opening of the
Canal the port of Suez has suffered considerably in importance
and in trade. It used to be the seat of transit for the bulk of the
trade between the East and West ; to-day but little commerce
passes through its hands. Within a stone's-throw hes Port
Tewfik at the entrance to the Canal. This port might almost be
termed the port of the Canal, as all the Canal offices are situated
there.
Having obtained pratique we entered the Canal. It was
then sundown. We carried our usual lights in addition to a
])0wcrful searclilight installed by the Canal authorities at a cost
to the ship of ten pounds. The powerful rays of the searchlight
guided the pilot in charge of the steamer. At times this reminded
me of steaming up the Yukon.
Suez Canal dues are a big item in the disbursement account of
a ship pa'^sing through. Passenger dues are ten francs per head
(adult), whilst cargo dues are charged on the net tonnage, by
Canal measurement (crew-accommodation, engine-room space,
etc., being excluded). The takings of the Canal Comjmny for the
year 1911 amounted to 134,010,000 francs.
Aftei- steaming for two hours from Port Tewfik we tied up
at the first garc to allow a southward-bound steamer to pass by.
No ship is allowed to steam through the Canal at a speed greater
than five and one-thii'd knots per hour ; otherwise the wash
would soon destroy the banks, as the width in parts is under
two hundred feet. No ship is allowed to pass another without
one of them tying up. The pilot in charge alone decides whieh
ship has the right of way. Mail ships have preference over all
N 193
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
others — even warships. Consequently tliey fly a special signal
— during tlie day a distinguishing flag at the foremast and at
night a white light. No ship, except in tlie most urgent circum-
stances, is allowed to anchor; nor under any circumstances are
ashes or refuse to be thrown into the Canal.
Wheii we had tied up oui- searchlight and course lights were
extinguished, four lights instead being showji on the side where
the chamiel was clear. The outward-bound vessel passed within
stone's-throw of us hugging the bank. Pilots have orders to
]'un tlieir shi])s aground rather than risk a collision, and the
resultant damage has to be borne by the ship at fault. Tiiough
a captain is bound by the rules of the Canal to take a Canal pilot,
the responsibility of the ship is still with him ; for the pilot is only
there to give the captain the benefit of his knowledge of the
rules of the Canal and to advise him as to wliat to do. The pilot
does not hold himself resjDonsible for the steering of the ship,
the correctness of which is of vital importance. ^
Tying up once oi- twice, we passed through the Bitter Lakes
and Lake Timsah and reached Ismailia shortly after one o'clock
in the moj'ning. Ismailia is the central station of the Canal ;
here ships may anchor.
From Ismailia we steamed thi'ough Lake Ballah, a lagoon, to
Kantai'a ; the banks here are lined with low sandhills. From
Kantara the Canal runs through the old bed of L;ike Menzalch
to Poi't Said. On the east side of the bed of this lake lies a dry,
flat sandy plain, scarcely higher than the level of the water ;
the gi'ound on the ^^•est is even slightly lo^vel■. banks of firm mud
alone scpai'ating the Canal from the flood of this lowland
consequent on a '" high Nile."
\Ve were iiioored off Port Said by nine o'clock in the morning.
The ])assagt' tlirough the Canal had taken us fifteen hours.
Slioi'ily after breakfast we began to coal.
1 The ,'^ucz Canal being, as it is to-day, witlioiit a competitor, tiic
autlionties can frame rules on the "Heads I win — Tails you lose"
princi])l(-. It is doubtful, however, whether this will continue to be the
case when the Panama Canal is open.
194
FROM THE STRAITS TO EAST AMERICA
Port Said has a very strict rule that steamers are not to sound
sirens in any part of the port, except as alarm signals in case of
danger. The ubiquitous warship even is requested not to indulge
in salute firing. Salutes have frequently extinguished the light
in the buoys, and on more than one occasion seriously damaged
them.
We left late in the afternoon, passing on our way out the
monument erected to the creator of the Canal — ^De Lesseps.
Entering the JNIediterranean we found a big sea running. For two
days we had bad weather, squally, with strong winds blowing.
Leaving the North African shore we sighted Candia Island early
in the morning of the 28th. The sun was just rising as we passed
abeam of the island and its early rays fell on the snow-clad
hills, presenting a very picturesque scene.
The following morning we sighted Mount Etna. To avoid the
strong current we steamed close in to the shores of Sicily, catch-
ing sight of pretty vineyards and white buildings, which recalled
to me romantic stories of Sicilian life.
At midnight we passed Cape Bon and in the afternoon of the
following day we had left in our wake the Fratelli Rocks.
Towards sunset of the next day we sighted the town of Algiers.
The nearer we approached the more beautiful it looked. By day
Algiei's is a most beautiful sight, the city, built like an amphi-
theatre, shining white in the sun's rays. By night it is- — well,
it is a second Hong-Kong ! I cannot pay it a higher compli-
ment than that.
As the day dawned it was a lovely sight to see the lights of
the town paling in the light of growing day, till one by one
they were all extinguished.
During the day I roamed about the town and w^as charmed
Avith its beauty, as also with that of the comitry round. I came
back to the ship in the evening, vowing that when I had made
my fortune I would retire to Algiers.
Algiers seeined to me to be the meeting-place of the East and
West ; the life there is cosmopolitan and yet Oriental. The gay
Frenchman and the dark-visaged Auib live side by side.
195
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
I wandered througli tlic native part of the toM'n, jjecping into
the pretty couityai'ds of the residences. Numerous dark-eyed
maidens would pass by, and thougli one could only see their eyes
they were well worth gazing at. I spent the day mui'dering the
beautiful French language and I can still recall the look of be-
wilderment on one tram conductor's face at one idiomatic (or
idiotic ?) phrase of mine.
When coaling was finished we steamed away. It was late
in the (.evening and the lights of Algiers fading gradually in the
distance were my last impression of that town.
At eleven o'clock that evening we crossed the 0° meridian,
and I knew that I had completely encircled the globe. During
my wanderings I had always gone west, never turning my face
to the east for any length of time.
The day following our departure was very hot ; the ^vatcrs
of the ]\Iediteri'anean were like glass. In the morning watch we
])assed a small bark lying Ijccalmed, not a breath of aii- inoving
her lifeless sails. Never was oiie more convinced of the pi'ogress
— if only inatcrial — of Man in the last few decades than by the
example given us in that poor old windjannner lying helpless
at the mcicy of the elements.
Skirtingthe coasts of Spain, we caught sigJit of high momitains
covered with snow. The Rock of Gibialtar was parsed just Ix'forc
sundown. We kept close in to avoid the strong current and so
obtained a clear view of the fortifications ajid guns, and of the
town a little distance away. We repoiled ourselves to Lloyd's
static]! as we passed.
It was dark when we had passed Cape Spai'tcl. We were now in
the Atlantic, and our course was changed to west l)y noilli. After
two davs' steaming we began to feel a heavy swell fiom the
north-west, which told us of a])]noaehi]ig batl weathei-. The
iiddles were now attached to the tables in the saloon and
]'eniaine(l a permanent iixture till we berthed in Boston.
Oil the morning cT the 0th we sighted and ])asscd the ^Vestc•rn
Islands, better known as I he Azores.
Tliat evening I witnessed — for the fii'st and only time — a j'ain-
196
FROM THE STRAITS TO EAST AMERICA
bow in the moonlight. It was a very picturesque and unusual
sight !
For the next three days we had moderate weather. We then
ran into a strong south-west gale and the steamer shipped some
heavy seas. Thenceforward we encountered very stormy weather
—typical of the North Atlantic in mid-winter !
Strong westerly and nor'-westerly gales, many of hurricane
force, met us daily, our run some days being very small. That
of the 17th was one hundred and twelve miles against the normal
run of two hundred and forty. The farther north we got the colder
became the weather, hail and sleet squalls being frequent.
On the morning of the 18th we got out of the Gulf Stream.
Its force, coupled with that of the strong seas against us, had
greatly impeded our progress ; so much so that we found we
were running short of coal and that we had not sufficient to
take us into Boston. It was consequently decided to replenish
our bunkers in Halifax, and the ship's course was accordingly
altered. On the 18th a heavy snowfall whitened the ship's decks
and riggings : tlie whistle sounded continuously, so obscured
was the weather, the danger of collision being accentuated by
the fact that we were now in the regular track of shipping.
By night-time of the following day we sighted the lights of
Halifax, having passed Sable Island early in the morning. No
one on the ship had entered this port before ; so, when it was
found that the flashes of Sambro Island light disagreed with the
direction book for some reason or other, the captain decided
to wait for daylight before approaching the land. The ship was
consequently turned about and we " stood on and off " all night
till daybreak, when a pilot vessel came out to meet us.
We were compelled to steam in slowly as a heavy snowstorm
was blowing. The day of our arrival was Sunday, which meant
we could ol:)tain no coal that day. I obtained only a glimpse of
the town under its snowy cloak, as I preferred to hug the fire in
the saloon.
Coaling commenced at midnight and by daybreak we were
under way again. We steamed south-west, skirting the coasts
197
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
of Nova Scotia ; by midnight we were abeam of Cape Sable —
the extreme south-western point of that territory.
We had the worst possible weather with us till we pieked up
the Boston pilot off the lightship ; even then it was blowing a
gale, which, however, hardly worried the staunch whale-boat
that brought the pilot on board. As we entered the harbour
we met many fishing trawlers outward bound, and I thought
of what a hard and perilous occupation such must be in the
winter-time, when gales and snowstorms are the rule and not
the exception. So cold and so biting was the wind that the
steam from our whistle, as it condensed into water, froze immedi-
ately into icicles ; all the steam pipes on deck were frozen, small
fires underneath having to be kindled to thaw them out. Fancy
fishing in that weather ! I thought that I would prefer to be a
purser on a tramp rather than a captain of a fishing trawler in
the North Atlantic.
By noon on 23rd December we were berthed in the docks
in Boston, our voyage from the East of fifty-one days being
at an end.
198
CHAPTER XVIII
EAST AMERICA AND RETURN TO ENGLAND
OUR arrival in Boston was just two days before
Christmas, so we were all hoping that we should
celebrate the day on dry land, especially as our
steamer had a good deal of cargo for this port. But no ! with
true commercial spirit the owners kicked us out late on
Christmas Eve for New York, to avoid the waste of one day
through the ship lying idle at the docks. I fancied I could hear
the worthy sliipowner in church on Christmas morn mumbling
with unctuous voice : "We have done those things which we
ought not to have done " and at the same time wondering
whether the boat cleared in time.
I spent, however, quite a pleasant Christmas on board the
Asomihs, with plenty of nice things to eat. It was certainly
a much more festive Christmas than the pi'eceding one, which
was spent, it will be recalled, under the hatches in the old
Saiitolo.
Our tjip to New York was uneventful. It was early in the
morning of Boxing Day when we picked up our New York pilot
off Sandy Hook. Shortly afterwards I set eyes on the Statue of
Liberty that protects so well the dishonest pork butcher and
bank embezzler but not too well the poor waifs of humanity
like you and me, reader. As we approached, the huge sky-
scrapers of New York in the distance looked like a row of
tombstones !
We anchored off Staten Island after breakfast. Here I signed
off the ship's articles and leceived my discharge ; but, unfor-
tunately, nothing more ! I had to do consideiable manauvring
to avoid paying head tax. Many were the seemingly casual
199
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
questions put to me by sundry immigration officials : " Ai'e you
quitting the ship here, eh ? " " Why, no, guess I'll do another
trip in the old tub " was always my innocent reply. I had learnt
my lesson well in 'Frisco.
Dee]) as are America's immigi-ation officials, deeper still are
her custom officers. What the latter do not know of " bumming "
in (vencral is not worth knowinif. What a number of feelers were
put out to ascertain from the purser of the .Isomihsthe dutiable
goods tlu'i'c were on board ! And how kind it was of one custom
officer to go to all the trouble of carrying through the gates tlie
purser's kit bag witli Japanese silk inside !
At first sight New York struck me as a very mei'ciless place.
I would not care to find myself stranded in that city. There
seemed such a homeless aspect about things. Of course, Xew
York's size rather tends to give a stranger tliat impression,
particularly if he be not too well endowed with this world's
goods.
Everybody in New York seemed to be very busy, especially
those who were doing nothing. Really I think the nmch-talked-
of " hustling " of Americans is just a big bluff. A man in the
U.S.A. flics down at a breakneck speed in an elevator to save
time, only to waste it with the " guy " in the cigar store at tlie
bottom. He bolts his meals at a " quick-lunch " counter to idle
an hour in a barber's shop. He tears out of the theatre before
the curtain drops to fritter away half-an-hour in an adjoiiiing
saloon. I have an idea that more time is wasted in America by
hustling than saved. A man who always looks busy is generally
a slacker !
Bari'ing meeting an Australian who spoke decent English,
nothing very thrilling happened to me whilst in New York.
I roamed round the city and got a glimpse of both its dai'k and
bright side. The crowds everywhere were most cosmopolitan.
Howevei-, in more than one street I caught sight of an Anglo-
Saxon name over a shop ! What rather astonished me was the
siglit of hoi'.sc-trams in one part of the city ; this was due, I was
told, to some municipal technicality. 1 had one very good
200
EAST AMERICA AND RETURN TO ENGLAND
luncheon in New York. That was in the Down Town Club. I
felt quite like a New Yorker after it.
After a week I returned to Boston. Here I met my Klondykc
friend, S .
Of Boston I took away very pleasant recollections. It is a
most homelike town. Other things than the worship of the
Almighty Dollar occupy the minds of the inhabitants. The
Bostonians are very cultured — and beastly aristocratic ! One
half of them owns ancestors who came over in the Mayflower ;
the other half possesses tombstones in Surrey and Hampshire
villages. The elite call the town Borston !
One of the chief topics of conversation with visitors, who hail
from a land where all are thought to drop their " h's " and turn
up their trousers, is the War of Independence. It is still fresh in
the Bostonian's mind, while that small episode of the dumping
of tea-chests in Boston harbour wears the air of a com-
paratively recent occurrence. This latter incident my host, out
of delicacy to my patriotic feehngs, decided to call " a regret-
table incident." I did endeavour to suggest that we on our part
regarded it as an ancient and forgotten joke — but I was not per-
mitted to continue. I w^as certainly helped in thinking I was
right after a chat with the mate of a steamer that was lying in
the liarboui'. She was an English boat and the mate was a York-
shireman. We were yarning on smidry subjects when I suddenly
asked him: "Tell me, where is the spot the tea-chests were
dumped overboard ? " My companion gazed vacantly at me for
a moment ; then replied : " What tea-chests ? " Verb. sap.
I spent New Year's Eve at a smoking concert. To the strains
of "Auld Lang Syne" we fraternised and forgot all past
" differences."
The weather in Boston was very cold, though bracing. I felt
the cold extremely after the heat of the tropics. All the houses
were steam-heated and sometimes became unbearably hot.
Particularly was this the case with the offices. It is not surprising
therefore that American doctors reap every ^sinter a good
harvest with cases of " grij^." " Grip," I would mention foj' the
201
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
benefit of those uninitiated in the mysteries of the American
language, here means a species of influenza ; and not a Glad-
stone bag (as I informed the reader on an earlier page).
My stay in East America was too short for me to gain any
very deep impression of either New York or Boston. But both
towns gave me the desire to visit them again ; and I could
express this wish with regard to few cities I have visited. I par-
ticularly want to live in New York again — to beat it ! By that I
mean to conquer that weakness of feeling at a loss there. With
Boston I want to renew my acquaintance, if only to meet again
my charming hosts and other kind friends.
On the lOtli day of January 1909 I boarded the Carthaginia.
After ten days of snow, rain and wind, I reached England and
landed on its shores with ten shillings in my pocket.
I was very tired, physically and mentally. The wanderlust
that had been so strong in me was all but dead ; the fires that
had once raged so fiercely had nearly burnt themselves out.
The desire to rest was strong ; but it was not yet that the young
adventurer was to become a staid citizen of the land that gave
him birth. Fate decreed that he was still to wander — and to
learn !
202
PART II
CHAPTER I
BOUND FOR THE TRANSVAAL
OX the morning of the 10th of xVpril 1909 I made my
second departure from England.
It was about noon when the Goth slowly swung out
of Southampton docks. The day was lovely — one of the real
English spring days ; about the first, however, I had experienced
during my brief stay. After friends on the quay were out of
sight, all of us on board began to size each other up. There were
on the ship the usual number of returning South Africans, and
many like myself bound for the Transvaal and Rhodesia, driven
from our own country by the stagnation of trade. Of these there
were half-a-dozen who were going out to join the B.S.A. Police ;
though none of them, I would wager, are still in the corps.
The police life of the old African days is gone — never to return !
We had a delightful trip out and enjoyed lovely weather,
which was very welcome after the bleak, raw days most of us had
spent in England. We sighted Table IMountain early in the
morning of 1st 3Iay, and berthed in the afternoon at Capetown.
I made a three days' stay here, whilst waiting for a steamer to
take me to East London. I spent my time in making pleasant
trips to the outskirts of the town, some of which are very
beautiful.
On the 4th I left by the Walmer Castle for East London,
where we arrived after a three-days' passage, having stopped
for a short while at Port Elizabeth, in xVlgoa Bay, to discharge
some cargo. At this port the steamer la}^ out some distance from
the shore, as we were unable to cross the bar at the entrance of
the harbour. A big sea was running, so the few passengers who
landed here were transferred to the steam launch in baskets —
20S
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
the usual method in use along this coast when the weather is too
bad to allow of the ordinary way of ernbarloition.
East London lies on the River Buffalo and is the shipping
port of Kingwilliamstown. It is the chief outlet for the
produce of the Eastern Province of the Cape Colony and
also for a portion of the Orange River Colony. Wool, ostrich
feathers, hides, etc., arc exported in yearly increasing quantities
from this port.
A short train ride took me to King^villiamstown, better
known to the inhabitants of Cape Colony as " King." In " King "
I made a week's stay with my brother. '" King " is a dorp to all
those who do not live there. Those who do elect to call it a
town, and to them the lights of East London on a Saturday
night say the last word of splendour and magnificence.
Johannesburg is regarded by them as an unknown world, full
of traps for the innocent. The smaller the dorp in the colony
the more particular are the inhabitants. Old Mrs B. will not
speak to Mrs 11., because Mr H. when alive was an insurance
agent ; and was not Mr B. when alive a retired gentleman ?
Old ]\Irs B. conveniently foigets that when her poor departed
husband married her he was but a penniless Transkei trader
and that it was only by years of patience and systematic
swindling of the natives that he had amassed a small fortune.
Such is Vanity Fair in Cape Colony !
After a week's stay in these exclusive circles I caught the
train for Johannesbuig. I passed through great stretches of
grassy plains in the Orange River Colony, crossed the Vaal
Rivcj', and shortly was made aware of the proximity of the great
mining industry of the Rand by the gleaming headlights of the
mine sliafts. When nearing Germiston (a few miles from Johan-
nesburg) the roar of the pounding stamps of the batteries
sounded like the booming of the sea on a rocky shore.
My train journey from the south was uneventful save for the
loss of my felt hat. which I had had for so many months that it
had bK'()mc' (piite a g()t)d fi-iend io ww. Its disappearance
certainly did credit to the sleiglit <oi hand skill of one of the
206
BOUND FOR THE TRANSVAAL
occupants of my compartment, all of whom helped me most
industriously to look for it.
One old Dutchman a short Avhilc afterwards poured into my
youthful ears reams of advice to beware of the guiles and of the
deceitful ways of that wicked town Johannesburg. I kept
thinking that if he would give me up my hat it would be more
to the point.
My first impression of the mines and their terrible-looking
shafts, through which the damp foetid air came up from below,
v.as not very cheering. My thought then was that not for one
hundred pounds a day could I ever compel myself to go down
those shafts. If anyone at that moment had told me that it
would not be many weeks before I was going underground
daily in that cage, the descent of which suspended by its one
quivering wire rope I ^^'as then watching, I should have told
him bluntly that he was a liar.
I had brought out with me a few letters of introduction.
I ought to have known better ; of course they proved to be use-
less. Johannesburg with its type of successful business man
was at first sight not flattering. I formed the opinion, which
with but slight modification I still retain, that there is no town
where a man can starve more satisfactorily than in Johannes-
burg, or where the iron of non-success can more quickly enter his
soul. However, my talents (?) found an opening at last, when
I was about to part with my last sovereign. One of the mines
just outside the town — the Robinson Deep — had a tempoi-ary
vacancy for an assistant storekeeper at twenty pounds a month.
This billet I was fortunate in securing. The sum of twenty pounds
a month may sound a fortune to out-of-works in England ; but
I have never yet met the man in South Africa who has for two
consecutive months saved anything out of that salary.
I ol^tained a room, quite unfurnished, in the single men's
quarters after waiting two or three weeks. I remedied deficiencies
by introducing two empty fuse-boxes from the mine store, a
bed and a red lamp-shade. The latter gave qu'te a distingue air
to the room, its rays softening some of the too appareiit "' chips"
207
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
in my furniture. My room became a show room ! When I pur-
chased some cretonne to cover up one of the fuse-boxes I was
solemnly warned by a pal not to go any further, as one of the
manager's friends would " come, and sec, and covet " ; and this
last would mean the sack for me.
After holding the position for a little over four moiilli-. iill
its rightful owner returned from l(a\c, I found myself facing
the alternatives of starving or of going underground. Dui'ing
my term in the store I had, so far as my poor efforts could,
left no stone unturned to obtain some position of }>; • manency,
however small, on one of the mines, or in Johannesburg ; but
so tight was, and is, the market for " intellectual labour " (as
we unskilled labourers without capital tei'm what others ii'rever-
ently term " pen-pushing ") that all my efforts had been quite
unsuccessful.
I chose underground mining in the end. having a foolish notion
that the familiar expi'cssion so often heard amongst young men
on the Rand tliat " it is better to starA'c than to go under-
ground '' was ill-founded. Hence, the end of Decembei- saw me
a " learner "' undergromid. But I left tlie Robinson Decjj befoie
]ny tliree months' apprenticeship was up. as the mine was too
unhealthy. The damp and dust tried too severely my not over-
strong throat.
A period of two or three weeks' inactivity inter\"ened between
leaving the Robinson Deep and joining the Gcldenliuis Estate —
an " outcro]) " mine, consequently a more healthy oric. This
period of inacti\'ity I again devoted to trying to secure a suj'face
billet in some mine oflice or in town. Again I failed ; and I
remained a miner on the Geldenhuis Estate till the end of
April 1910.
208
CELVPTER II
LIFE IN JOHANNESBURG
JOH.\NNESBUIlG is the New York of South Africa in
point of modernity and cosmopohtan character of its
inliabitants. It is, further, in its meteoric rise the Dawson
City of Africa. Founded on the discovery of gold, it has grown
from a few tin shanties to a handsome city in just over a quarter
of a century. Where, less than three decades ago, was a small
mining camp with hard beaten tracks over which long teams
of oxen laboriously pulled their loads, to-day stands a well-built
town with excellent roads, over which run the latest models in
motor cars.
The dwellers in Johannesburg and its outskirts along the
Reef hail from every corner of the globe, though the Far
Eastern representative in the shape of the much-missed China-
man is no longer to be seen. Every nationality, from the Polish
Jew in all grades of success and cleanliness to the backveld
Boe]', goes to swell the human hive in Johannesburg. Every type
of Britisher, from the unpopular Cornishman to the "slim"
Australian ; every type of American, from the rough Colorado
miner to the up-to-date Boston engineer ; every t}^e of coon,
from the raw Matabele to the Lovcdale-Christianised niggei-,
is to be met with in the streets of Johannesburg. The town is
popularly known as Jew-burg, because the Chosen wield such a
vast power in the mining world of the Rand. I would add,
however, that it is generally acknowledged that a Christian is
far better treated by a Jewish firm than he is in a Christian
house in Johannesburg.
Johannesburg obtained its reputation for wickedness, which
to-day it struggles to retain, during the war and the few rosy
o 209
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
luouths tluit immediately followed. This unenviable reputation
dies hard. I may, perhaps, be guilty of libelling the town and its
citizens when I say that I have always considered Johannesburg
not so much a wicked city as a inock-moi'al one. Johannesburg
is more tight-laced in its laws than any towii of which I know.
Liquor laws are more rigorous than those in a country village in
J^^ngland. The town is well equipped with places of amusement,
clul)s, churches and saloons. The saloons are the most popular
and are consequently numerous. Of clubs the Rand and the New
would put into the shade many similar London institutions.
They are, ho-wever, out of the j-each of the average man ^\ho was
not in Af I'ica diuing the diamond days of Kiml)erley. The Union,
which is one of the town's most popular institutions, is his club ;
for is it not the only place where he can get a whisky and soda
on a Sunday ?
There was a boom in " dime " shows, or cinematographs,
in th(; years of 1909 and 1910 and it did no little liarin to the
Empire — the local London Pavilion. Joliamiesburg possesses
two theatres, where the not over-fastidious audiences ai'c
chai-mcd with the reproduction of second-rate London comedies.
Of hotels there are plenty, some fh'st rate and others not
so. The Carlton is considered the hotel of the town. Once a
white elephant, it is now earning dividends, though on a nmch
leduccd capital. The building and its fiximes would certainly
not disgrace a Eiu'opean city. The Carlton monthly dance
is quite a popular feature. One is the guest of the management
for the evening ami h.'is to pay no moie than the price of
su]>])cr and drinks. The dances are always gay and po})ular
and imich heartl)urning is felt by the uninvited. I have seen
thei'c some marvellous frocks and ci'eations, and some vcvy
nice girls.
Li .Toliannesbui'g one cnn get ;\]] soits of dances — from a
five-shilling " ho]) " in J^raamfontein to a select ])ii\'aie dance
in i'ai'kiown. Of Ihe I'oi'mei" I am cf)m])cl:ent to s])cak ; though
not oi tile kilter. Jn Ihe Transs'aal I hnve always been one of the
submerged hundred. In the five-shilling " ho])s " the only
2IO
LIFE IN JOHANNESBURG
restriction was that dancers must not use their hobnailed
" King-Miner " boots.
Food is very cheap in Johannesburg. You can get a good meal
tliere for a shilling, with a glass of beer thrown in. You can also
get exactly the same — perhaps a little worse — foi" five shillings.
"Blackings" will serve you the former, whilst a few swagger
restaurants offer the latter. The Trocadero is a very popular
resort, particularly on Saturday and Sunday nights when the
town is full. Music, prettily shaded tables and quite a good menu
persuade you, if only for a few minutes, that you are a gentle-
man and not a miner, who, of course, could not possibly be one !
The Aiiglo-Austrian Cafe is another very popular resort whei'c
one can hear excellent music, and is, indeed, the only place of
the kind that I know of in Africa.
Saturday night in town is the night of the week. Pritchard
Street is the Saturday night meeting-place for men fiom all
parts of the Reef. From Boksburg to Randfontein workers on
the mines flock here to meet their friends. It is with an effort
one makes a way through the crowds. There ai'c only a few
Avomen but men of all ages and descriptions. Snatches of
convei'satiou arc overheard from little groups of men talking
together. " ^yhat ! have you left the Simmer ? " " Yes ! that
son of a of a mine captain fired me " is the reply you have
just time to catch before you are in the midst of a little group
of yongs [i.e. young Colonials) who are heatedly discussing the
merits or demerits of the football match that afternoon on the
Vrandcrcr's ground. Having heard a few of the opinions of these
young football experts (and young South Africa docs know how
to play Rugby) you elbow your way through a group of typical
miners. One iiears : "I 'knocked out ' seventy last month, but
I shall be lucky if I make thirty this." '■ Cut you ? "
" OC course, they did, the ." Words quite unintelligible
to a stranger in this little world of mines and miners ; but not
to the man who is part and parcel of it.
You go on elbowing yoiu' Wci}\ catching stray remarks of those
211
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
who are " fired," are " shiftbossing," are " tramming," and are
"fed up," the latter type being by far the most in evidence.
During this stroll down Pritchard Street you have glanced up
once or twice at the tea-rooms to see if anyone you know is
there. Strains of the fiddle reach your ears above the noise
and chatter, and as it sounds attractive in the distance you
decide to have a drink. You select the " Balcony " tea-room.
You ascend the stairs and walk into a tastefully decorated room,
full of little tables, round which gossiping groups of men are
seated. Only one or two of the fair sex are present. On both
sides, overlooking the lively streets, runs a balcony, also full of
crowded tables. You stroll leisurely round, nodding here and
there to those you know, till you fmd a seat disengaged. This is
rather a hard job at times. After a few minutes — more or less —
a haughty young lady arrives at your table and demands your
order ; sometimes she asks what you would like. You arc,
however, at that moment fascinated by a brilliant pair of — no !
not eyes — but socks, of which you have just caught sight. You
trace them to their owner ; and, should one be a stranger in the
town, he may rest assured that he has set eyes on one of tlie
gilded youths of Johannesburg. His salary is easy to appraise.
The stranger will think that it must be at least that of a mine
secretary, possibly that of a inine manager. Xo ! stranger, you
have not yet the key ! Learn that — in Johannesburg — the lower
the salary the more gorgeous the socks ! Those socks over there
are "worth," perhaps, fifteen pounds a month in a lawyer's
office.
On withdrawing your fascinated gaze, you are horrified to
find the haughty young lady still standing beside you, with
a martyr-like air and a sort of don't-lct-me-hurry-you-sir
expression on her face. You apologise and order a lactobacilinc.
Quite a non-intoxicating drink, don't think it is a new cocktail !
Lactobacilinc is only sour milk, an imitation — ^and not always
a very successful one — of African calabash milk. Your drink
and bill ai'rive simultaneously. .Toliannesburg's motto is : " God
we trust ; all others cash." Ignoring the bill, you take a swig of
212
LIFE IN JOHANNESBURG
tlio concoction, after having given it sugar and nutmeg. The
band has now started playing again. You laiow it has, for from
your seat you can just catch sight of the fair 'cellist's head.
The queer noise that reaches you occasionally makes you
doubly certain. In the Balcony no one listens to the music ;
but at times it helps to drown the conversation of a noisy party
near, when you are trying to impress your fair companion
with the truth that but for hard luck you ought to be filling the
shoes of a manager, who is, of course, a fool ! The clear atmos-
phere of Johannesburg must contain a germ of dissatisfaction,
for iiearly everyone who lives there is at times fed up. If a man
gets sacked, it is because (so he says) he was fed up with the job.
If a lawyer loses his case, it is because he, or the judge, was fed
up at the time. If a miner, stoping in an " outcrop," blasts
down half the manager's garden and the henroost, it is because
he was fed up with the manager or the hens — more likely the
former I If the secretary of the golf club loses a match, it
is because he was fed up. I was nearly always fed up myself
when in Johannesburg, and considered that I had every cause to
be so. But the strange thing about it is that all the others are
equally sure of their hard case.
Having sat in the Balcony for half-an-hour or so — it is now
nearly nine o'clock — you stroll out again into the street. The
crowd is thicker. You direct your steps to the Anglo-Austrian,
where you will be bound to meet someone you know. There's
also the chance of meeting the man who owes you a sovereign.
You push your way through the crowd and reach the cafe.
You go downstairs, hastily glancing at the mirrors that line the
staircase to see if you are looking as much of a wreck as usual,
or whether the new socks suit your complexion. You go in by one
of the swing doors and are possibly detained because a polite
youth is doing acrobatic feats in attempting to hold open one of
the swing doors, while the two majestic ladies he is escorting are
endeavouring to pass underneath his arm without spoiling their
gorgeous hats. When this scene is over, you nearly get your
face smashed in by the youth who, thinking he has done all
213
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
politeness demands of liim, slams the door behind him. You
have just time to avoid it, and silently, though fluently, bless
the youth, who is now guiding his two flushed charges in their
search for an empty table.
You stroll in and find a seat without much difficulty, as j^our
needs are small. Should you be a stranger you will gaze round
and think that you have possibly entered a Turkish bath
establishment instead of a cafe. It is not so nmchthe atmosphere,
thougli that is thick enough with smoke from numerous pipes
and Natal cigars, as the white-tiled walls which so forcibly
remind you of a bath-house. Though ugly, the Anglo-Austrian
is one of the most popular I'csorts of Johannesburg, and is, as I
have already said, the only place in tlie town that provides an
opportunity to music lovers to hear some I'cally good nuisic.
The orchestra only consists of two violins, a 'cello, a flute and
a gi'and piano ; but notwithstandiiig the limitations, one can hear
some of the finest music ever writteii. Music is ])rovidcd every
afternoon and evening, but on Tuesdays and Fridays solos are
added to the usual programme.
You have by now found a seat and sit down ; not comfort-
ably, for the wire chairs of the Anglo-Austrian are iiotorious for
their discomfort. I think they must have been designed for
the ex})ress purpose of keeping you fjom outstayiiig your
welcome, or, in other words, your six])enny drink. A lady, whose
coiffure is a special feature, a])proaches and sup])lies \ou at
you!- request with a cafS melange. You pick up the pi-ogi-amme
and find the next item is '' Poet and Peasant." A sym])athetic
audience applauds when the piece is over. An aNvful din and
clattei- of spoons on saucers further denotes the audience's
a])])i'e('iation. The musicians smile and look pleased, but do not
]'es])()ii(l to the cries of " Encore '' as it is Saturday night. AVhilst
wailing for the next item, you gaze round to see whom you know.
The place is very crowded, as it nearly always is on Saturcbiy
and Sunday nights. The sti'cani of people coming in and out is
an attractive sight to a student of human nature. You es])y a
family man wlio is taking out his wife and kiddies fcjr an
214
LIFE IN JOHANNESBURG
evening's enjoyment. You nod to him, for you laiow him as a
shift-boss from your mine. Presently you notice a young fellow,
whom you know very well, coming in. You catch his eye. He
comes over to your table and sits down opposite, having just
forestalled another man who was going to take the empty chair.
We exchange news, or " swap lies," as is vulgarly said, till
the next item is played by the orchesti-a.
Presently two Italians^ — Dagos they call them on the Rand —
come and sit opposite us. It is easy to surmise their occupation
fi'om their worn and white faces. They are developers in the
mines. A dcvclopei'\s life is worth about ten years — c'est tout.
It is now half-past nine, so we stroll out and discuss on the kerb-
stone our next movements. We notice absently the flaring lights
of a moving-train cinematograph show on the other side of the
street, and are jostled by passers-by, till at last we decide to
go to the Caj'lton and have a drink, as lactobaciline and ca^e
melanges are not stimulating enough for a Saturday night. We
reach the Carlton and edge our way to the bar, which is now
ci'owdcd with theatre-goers, " half-time " being on. We order
whisky-soui's- — the latest thing in cocktails — which, like some of
its brothers, has a nice red cherry. We exchange a few words
with men we know and in the crush you lose your shortwhile
companion. You sti'oll out shortly afterwards alone and wander
back to Pritchard Street, which you find fast emptying, most of
the respectable citizens having now gone home. You make your
way to ^Market Square and fmd it is neai'ly eleven o'clock ; so
\'ou decide also to go home. You catch your car, which leaves
every fifteen minutes, to Turfontein — and one more Saturday
on the Rand is passed !
A Sundav in Johannesburg rs a thing to be avoided ! It is
the slowest, and, incidentally, the driest thing in Africa. Should,
however, circumstances elect that you live in Johannesburg,
you will probably sleep well into the Sunday morning, unless
you are feeling energetic enougli for a round of golf or a game
ol tcmiis. You will be dressed and out by eleven o"ek)ck
215
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
when you will wander to Market Square, there to get a " shoe
shine" and to wonder what the deuce you will do with your-
self. If you are a member of the Union Club you will decide
to go and get a drink. If you are not you will try to find a pal
who is. If you can't do that, you will, as a last resource, decide
to go to the public library and there skim a few of the home
papers till you feel hungry enough to have some lunch. This
idea is as suddenly dismissed as it came ; for you remember that
the library is only open when the busy man can't get there, and
that on Sunday — when quite a few might avail themselves of
it — it is shut !
Your boots are shining, your tickey paid, and the question,
" Where shall I go ? " is still unanswered. You eventually decide
to go to the Wanderer's ground and see if there is any tennis
worth watching, after which you will go and bask in the sun
(which always shines in the Transvaal) in Joubert Paik. This
you do ; and the green grass and luxurious flowers are a welcome
contrast to your usual surroundings during the week—the
mine dumps ! Here you decide that you will go out to the Zoo
in Eckstein Park in the afternoon and see some more green
things. You return to Pritchard Street and go to "Blackings,"
where you get quite a good meal and a glass of beer for a shilling.
After finishing your alfresco meal, you catch a car marked
Parktown. It is a perfect day and so you take a top seat. You
pass down Eloff Street and, however much you think you have
a grievance against the town, you cannot help remaiking on the
numl^er of well-built houses. Turning round by Park Station —
the station of Johannesburg — you pass through ]]raamfontein,
one of the growing suburbs of the town. If you aie of an
observant turn of mind you will remark on what a vast amount
of galvanised iron must have been used to build up the town,
not to mention the tliousands of tons used on tlie mines them-
selves. I cannot recall a house in Joluumesbuig, whether it
was the mansion of a mine magjiate or tlic dwelling of a miner,
that ])0sse>sed anything but a galvanised roof. Most of the
houses you })ass in Jiraamfontein are small live-joom dwellings,
2lG
\ 1 I lii-, I
r W\, , :] {\'\\ \'- .:< ['- \ ;-i I
LIFE IN JOHANNESBURG
though of a rental value of seven to ten pounds a month. With
this in mind, it is not much to be wondered at that a living wage
for a married man residing in Johannesburg — not on a mine —
is at the minimum of tliirty pounds a month. When a man has
to pay about one hundred pounds a year for a small house, for
which he would only pay thirty pounds a year in any suburb
of London, it is not hard to realise the expenses of life in
Johannesburg. A " tickey " (threepence) is practically the
smallest coin in use, its purchasing power, roughly speaking,
being that of a penny in England and a nickel (five cents)
in the States.
With these thoughts in your head you immediately dismiss
the idea of a plunge into matrimony which the sight of two
happy-looking lovers had suggested to you, and turn your gaze
upon Ohlsson's Brewery, which the tram at that moment is
passing. It seems a far more sensible object on which to con-
centrate wandering thoughts. It is not long before the tram
descends into the valley round which Parktown lies. Here one
ol:>tains a lovely view. Houses of every style of architecture,
mostly of the old Dutch type — very picturesque — lie here and
there in graceful confusion, their iron roofs painted in dark
colours, some red, some green and some black. In the distance
can be seen the great clumps of Australian blue gums, which
thrive so well on the Transvaal soil, forming a very picturesque
background.
You alight at the Zoo and wander contentedly about, listening
to the band and to the roaring of the lions in their cages. Lying
lazily on the gromid amidst the shady trees in some quiet
spot you pass some restful hours, till the setting sun and
an empty stomach remind you it is getting late. You catch a
return car, and, by the time you are once again in the heart of
the town, it is nearh' seven o'clock and quite dark. You decide
to go to the " Troc." and there have dinner. As you are alone
you are bomid to find there some kindred spirit equally lonely.
If you haven't been there for a month or two you will make a
sporting bet to yourself as to whether the waiters have been
217
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
changed again or not ; whether the Indian waiters are still there,
or some " democratic," consequently insolent, white waiters in
their place. Entering, you find the place full.
A look at the waiters tells you that you owe yourself a half-
crown. The waitei's are unchanged ; and it is over three weeks
since you were there last ! As you expected, you know many of
the people. A hrst glance produces two lawyers, with whom
you have^ — ^fortunately — only a nodding acquaintance. There
are, on dit, more lawyers than criminals in Johannesburg.
Uncharitable folks do add that it is hard to discriminate between
them. You further notice a shift-boss dining his fiancee at one
table. You ignore him, however, with a contemptuous look, as
he sacked you a few weeks ago ; of course, quite unjustly ! No
man since the Reef was discovered has ever been sacked for
any fault of his own. You further espy your whilom companion
of last night toying with a monocle and some claret. As you also
notice that he has with him two pretty girls, whom he is enter-
taining, you deduce that his state of funds will be at a very low
ebb by the loth of the month. You envy him nevertheless, and
nod.
You are in flannels ; many are also. But the opposite scat to
you is suddenly taken by a splendidly dressed youth who hurls
at you a withering glance. He has quite a pretty gij'l with him,
so you do not wither up but just take a glimpse at his socks and
her left hand. A quick mental calculation tells you — an engaged
couple, youth worth seventeen ])0unds ten shillings a month ;
probable date of marriage — nevei' !
Pj'csently in strolls a man in flannels with golf clubs slung
over his shoulder. He has won his match, it is easy to see, as lie
is l()(jki]ig so cheei'ful. You beckon to him as you know him rather
well (he is your brother), and he joins you at diimcr. The nuisic
has ])(en playing at intervals. The rays of the pretty shaded
liglits falling on the cheerful Sunday crowd, eou])led with a
})ottle of Hermitage (the brothci' lias won his matcli) leeall to
mind scenes of London, memoiies of the Savoy.
After dinner you stroll over to the Anglo-Austi'ian and find
218
LIFE IN JOHANNESBURG
it packed like a herring barrel, the atmosphere here being worse
than a London fog. The martial strains of the Overture to
" William Tell " greet your ears as you enter. They nearly always
play this masterpiece of Rossini on Sunday evenings. The fog
is the smoke of the finest smoking tobacco in the world— Boer
tobacco. After an hour's stay in the cafe, chatting with sundry,
you stroll down towards Park Station.
A more energetic Sunday on the Rand can be spent in a
morning's round of golf on one of the many sporting courses
in and round Johannesburg. An afternoon of tennis on the fast
red-earth courts, followed by a lazy evening in the Mine Recrea-
tion Hall, j)laying a game of billiards — this is, perhaps, a more
typical Sunday in the Randite's life.
Church does not enter his programme, though it is on record
that two brothers once met each other, accidentally, one Sunday
evening in a Johannesburg church ! A dweller on the mines,
however, feels lie needs a little more stimulant than a discourse
on the dispensation of the Mosaic Law.
219
CHAPTER III
MINES AND MINING ON THE RAND
THE gold-mining industryof the Rand is as well organised
an industry as can be found in any part of the world.
To-day the Rand is the largest gold-producing centre,
for it has had at its disposal for many years the greatest engineer-
ing intellects the world could supply. The result is evident in
the modern methods and up-to-date machinery now in use for
the extraction of the gold from the reef at the minimum of cost.
The reduction of working-costs is the question to which all the
energy and skill of the mining engineers have been directed.
Year by year a noticeable reduction has been effected, till the
low figure of eleven shillings per ton, and in some cases a figure
even lower, has been reached.^ To obtain this result, however,
the ruthless cutting down of expenditure has been necessary,
chiefly in the reduction of staffs and of wages ; and the use of
the latest labour-saving appliances and up-to-date machinery
has brought about tlie last word in economical world ng. It might
be truly remarked that at length the shareholder's interests are
being regarded, that the investor has at last come into his own.
The days when the mines of the Rand were run for the benefit
of a select few are gone — never to return ! The days when hand-
some salaries were paid to miderworkcd staffs, when miners
earned their cheques of one hmidrcd and fifty pounds a month,
and then grumbled, are also gone !
One of the great handicaps to the satisfactory and cheap
working of the mines is the shoitagc of native labour — the un-
skilled labour of the mines. The repatriation of the Chinese hit
^ The average cost per ton on the Rand is, however, higher than
eleven shiUings ; roughly, eighteen shillings per ton.
220
MINES AND MINING ON THE RAND
the Rand industry severely. To those unacquainted with South
Africa this fact would appear a very remarkable one at first
sight, in view of the millions of blacks in Africa. But when
one looks a little closer into the matter this factor of short-
age of native labour is not so surprising as would first seem.
Several causes combine to create this state of affairs. The
chief cause is the native's natural fear of going down into the
" deep hole " in the ground. Tales of death, by the dreaded mine
consumption and by accident, reach the native's ears in whatever
far-away district he may live, and are magnified in transit.
Another important factor is the native's natural laziness. A
Kafir does not like regular and systematic work. If he possess
a sufHciency of wives, enough to till his lands and provide him
with his few wants, he is content. Lastly, it must be recalled
that the mining industry, though the chief industry and at
present the mainstay of the Union, is not the only industry
that needs the labour of the country. Already the agricultural
section of the community is crying out that its labour is being
absorbed by the Rand.
The one great drawback on the Rand is the uncertainty of
cjuployment and the instability of a white man's position.
Men in subordinate billets are more or less sure of holding them,
so long as they do their work properly ; but those in higher and
more responsible positions have daily the fear of dismissal
hanging over their heads. A change of management is generally
the forerunner of numerous dismissals. With the ever-present
fear of being any moment out of a job it is only natural that
]ncn hesitate to marry or to bring their families out from home.
This insecurity of tenure is the bugbear of the mines. Till it is
removed it is useless for politicians to consider or talk about
making the Rand anything but a place of temporary settle-
ment.
To my personal knowledge one mine manager foolishly
boasted that it would not be long before all the old hands were
gone — sacked at his instigation — when he took over the contiol
of the mine in questior.. Tic started steadily filling the high
221
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
and responsible positions with his friends, many of whom were
grossly inefficient. These friends eventually lost for him his own
position — he was hoist with his own petard ; the reduced output
of the mine brought about his dismissal. Men, after holding for
some years a responsible position on a mine — the very fact
of the length of their stay indicating satisfactory work- — ^will
be dismissed at a moment's notice at the whim of some
manager. Length of service " cuts no ice " on the Rand
mines.
Another unsatisfactory method on the mines of the Rand
to-day is the underhand system of " measuring up " or survey-
ing the fathomage of ground broken by a miner in the stope
where he is working. In numerous instances the correct fathom-
age is not allowed, a loAver estimate being substituted. If the
miner comes out in debt, however — i.e. if he does not break
suflicient ground to pay for the stores he has used and the native
labour he has employed — the mine honestly allows the correct
estimate to stand. An experienced miner, though not as a rule
in possession of even the first rudiments of surveying, has a
pretty shrewd and accurate idea of what he has " knocked out "
by the end of the month. Such a fraudulent system should be
rigorously stamped out.
Notwithstanding the fact that a miner's life on the Rand is
not " all beer and skittles," there is no shortage in the supply of
white, or skilled, labour for the mines, though wages to-day
are much lower than before the war. Large cheques to-day are
the exception rather than the rule.
To-day a miner working on " day's pay " {i.e. on a daih" wage
and not by contract) earns roughly 16s. 8d. to 20s. a shift,
nigjit or day, for " hand-stoping " (that is, in chai'gc of a gang
of natives drilling by hand). For " machine stoping " he will
earn rouglily 20s. to 25s. a shift, whilst for "lashing" or
" tramming " {i.e. superintending a gang of natives shovelling
the ))roken ore and its conveyance to the ore-bins ready for
hoisting) 12s. 6d. to 15s. a shift. For contracting it is very hard
to state anytliing ])ut an approximate average month's earnings,
222
MINES AND MINING ON THE RAND
as so much depends on conditions, such as the skill of the miner,
the efficiency of his " boys " and the state of the stope in Avhicli
]ie is working, etc. Roughly speaking, a miner will earn on
contract anything from £20 to £35 a month " hand-stoping " ;
£25 to £50 a month " machine-stoping " and £70 to £100 a
month " machine developing." These figures are only approxi-
mately correct ; for one miner will come out in debt where
another will make £25. ^
Developei's are the best paid miners, as their life is short. This
work of developing is the dustiest, consequently the deadliest.
Miner's phthisis soon claims them as victims. Italians are chiefly
erigaged in this class of mining. !Mine consumption is the curse
of the Hand mines, the deadly dust of the rock claiming in-
numerable victims. Much attention has been, and is being, con-
centrated to-day towards lessening the deadly effect of the
mine dust, but not with much result. The use of respirators is
encouraged, though they are but little adopted, as it is quite
hot and stuffy enough working underground without bi'eathing
through a sponge. Strict injunctions are given, and are meant to
be observed, to use water freely to keep down the dust whilst drill-
ing with machines ; but so careless and almost childish are many
miners that they will frequently disregard this very necessary
precaution. The habits, too, of the average Rand miner do not
tend to help him to resist this disease. His almost rabid dislike
of water, fresh Jtir and a hygienic mode of life makes him very
susceptible to consumption. Greater encouragement is being-
given to-day to the miner to indulge in open-air reci'cation ;
thougli the average miner does not take very kindly to golf,
or tennis or such sports. Whippet-racing is his chief hobby,
wliilst horse-racing is also popular. Both are fairly sure means
of helping him to get rid of his money. Pneumonia is also
prevalent on the mines, chiefly from chills coirtracted and
neglected underground.
Numerous accidents occur on the Rand, though the number
is really very small in view of the magnitude of the industry
^ 'J'hcse words were written before the strikes of /pi 3.
223
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
to-day. 1 Carelessness is most often responsible for these
accidents.
However careful a miner may be himself he still takes his life
in his hands when he enters the cage to go down to his day's
work ; for, apart from the gradual undermining of his health,
he runs the daily risk of getting killed or disabled by a fall of
rock or "hanging," by being "gassed" by d^Tiamite fumes,
or by being " blasted " through someone else's carelessness.
Even when in the cage, descending at the rate of nearly a mile
a minute, his life depends solely on the staunchness of the one
steel hawser, which has broken more than once. Still, much is
being done, though perhaps not from very altruistic motives,
towards the improvement of the lot of the miner on the Rand ;
and certainly it can be safely said that in no time has the Rand
mining industry ever been on such a sound footing as it is to-day.
After the gold ore is mined below it is hauled to the surface
to be crushed. The ore is then sorted, the auriferous reef being
separated from the waste rock, the one being easily distinguishable
from the other. The reef is then conveyed to the battery, or mill.
By means of a conveyer belt the ore is raised to the large ore-
bins ; from here the flow of broken rock into the stamp-boxes
is regulated and under the tremendous stamps, which work
night and day, is crushed into small fragments. The crushed
rock, mixed with water, is now almost like mud. It next passes,
through narrow-meshed screens, over mercury-coated plates,
and undergoes what is known as the " amalgam process."
Here the first extraction of gold takes place. Roughly speaking,
seventy per cent, to seventy-five per cent, of the gold is retained
on these plates. The muddy stream of crushed ore then passes
through the "tube-mills," which consist of big revolving
cylinders, in appearance like boilers, filled with small pebbles.
Here the ore is completely crushed. It then passes over the
^ 194,328 natives were employed on the Rand during April 1911,
and the accident rate in 191 1 was only 4- 1 per 1000. In view of the large
proportioR of semi-savage labour employed, the rate is small.
224
A 1 \Ki ,1-: M 1\I'. I'K' 'li-,K I S"
\ I \KK\ . -ill i\\ 1 \"
\ I !:i I n \ n-.
MINES AND MINING ON THE RAND
"shaking-tables," another set of mercury plates, vibrating to
and fro to retard the flow of the auriferous stream over them.
A further percentage of the gold is retained on these plates.
The ore now undergoes the cyanide treatment.
The solution is pumped up, or raised by the " tailing's-wheel,"
into launders (wooden sluices), which convey it to the cyanide
works. Here the " sands " are separated from the " slimes "
(the latter are the very finely divided material). The former
sink, Wii'lst the latter, suspended in the liquid, run over. Each
is treated separately.
The " sands " are pumped into great tanks, where they are
allowed to settle ; they are now in a suitable condition for
'' leaching." A solution (0-35 per cent. Potassium Cyanide) is
then pumped on and percolates through the sands, absorbing
most of the gold. Further weak solutions (0-15 per cent. K.
Cy.) are pumped on, absorbing still more. The "slimes" are
similarly treated ; first with one strong and then with various
weak solutions which extract all the gold possible. The am"o-
cyanide solutions arc then conveyed to the " extractor-house."
The sands, when completely treated, are left to dry, and
are then conveyed to the huge white dumps that daily grow
larger. The slimes, when free of gold, go to swell the lai'ge
dams which slowly harden in the air. To-day a very small per-
centage of gold escapes, perhaps 3 per cent, only, in striking
contrast to former years when the " tailing-dumps " had as
nmcli as 10 per cent, of gold still unextracted.
In the extractor-house the cyanide solution, with tlic gold in
suspension, passes through boxes filled with freshly cut zinc
shavings (which contain a small percentage of lead, pure zinc
being less efficient), on which the gold is deposited in the form
of a black slime. This slime contains all the gold which the
cyanide absorbed ; the latter is then free again for use.^
^ The cyanide solution is weakened somewhat by decomposition by
tlie reactions in the zinc boxcSj but the presence of large quantities of
the double cyanide of zinc and potassium is not prejudicial to its solvent
action when used again, after being brought to standard strength.
P 225
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
These boxes then undergo a process, which is termed in mining
parlance, the " clean-up." The zinc-gold slimes are collected and
are charged into vats for treatment with sulphuric acid (bi-
sulphate of sodium is sometimes used also) to effect an elimina-
tion of the zinc and other base metals. Violent chemical action
ensues, the fumes given off being highly poisonous. After this
treatment witJi acid, which dissolves the zinc, the slimes are
settled, washed and separated, and are then ready to undergo
the process of smelting.
The gold-amalgam from the two sets of plates (i.e. those in
the battery and those on the shaking tables) is retorted in a
furnace. The bulk of the mercury is driven off (but recovered
by condensation), leaving the gold behind practically free of the
mercury, though a little remains until smelting takes place.
The smelting process employed on the Rand is similar to that
in use in other comitries. The auriferous slimes are baked, turn-
ing into a clinker mass. This is broken up, placed into a crucible
and mixed with a flux (chiefly of sand, carbonate of soda and
borax). The crucible is then placed in a furnace under intense
heat ; after a certain period, the gold collects in the form of
a button covered with a thick slag.
The gold recovered from the amalgam is similarly treated,
the intense heat driving off what little mercury is still retained.
The slag retains only a very small percentage of gold ; this is
mostly recovered by periodical fusions of accumulated quantities
of slag with borax and lead. Twelve gold buttons go to form one
ingot ba]-, being annealed under intense heat with more flux,
the molten metal being then poured into a mould. The gold
ingot is approximately 99'9 per cent, pure gold, a very small
percentage of baser metals still remaining.
]\Iuch of iJic I'apid progress which lias been made in lowering
the cost of the extraction of the gold from tlie ore is due to the
intj'oduction of the cyanide process — in 1890 — and its subse-
quent itDprovcment.
22b
HI'. ^rKKiir \ i iiNi;> i<i \ Rwd Mink
..^^ ^ ;, Jil»ffi-ljt <*
\' \i.\v III ( ^ \\ ; ! 'I-. W"'
CHAPTER IV
LIFE UNDERGROUND
DULL breaks the morning light on the Rand. ^ The engine-
driver, with his eyes on the clock, stands by his lever
in the brightly lit engine-room waiting for six o'clock
to strike. Once the hour is reached, he grasps the hempen cord
and gives the hooter one long sustained pull, with the result so
well known to all residents along the Reef. To the town man or
the office man, this awakening blast may mean nothing beyond
a notion of the time of day ; but to the underground worker,
whether he be a miner, trammer or anything else, it means
everything. It means the beginning of a new day, of one more
shift to be put in.
Loath to leave my couch, which by the wildest stretch of
imiigination could not be designated as downy, I snatch just
another twenty winks and then bestir myself. Perched on the
edge of my rickety bed, I don a minimum of clothing and make
tracks for the boarding-house to enjoy, or to bolt, breakfast,
according to the hour. Two warning blasts at the half -horn* tell
me to " get a move on." Gathering up a bottle of cocoa and
bundle of sandwiches — my midday meal below — I hasten off
to the headgear. Here the change-house is to be found. Ranged
along the room on all sides are lockers, and I unlock the door of
mine in order to exchange the fc'w clothes I have on for others
more suited for the labours of the day. ]My previous day's "work
underground begrimed my mining clothes, but, thanks to the
rows of hot-air pipes in the building, they arc now in a more or
' For the framework of this sketch I am much assisted by an ably-
written article which appeared in The TvuMsvaal Leader m July 1909.
227
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
less dry state. Hastily doffing my surface garments, I don my
" diggers " and in a few minutes am ready to go below, garbed
for my toil in an attire which almost completes metamorphosis.
An old cap, worn and covered with mud, is perched on the back
of my head, whilst my jacket is such that no dealer would
even consider it for a moment in relation to a purchase. A good
and thick, if grimy, undervest peeps out from the neck of my
stout woollen shirt, while my trousers, showing signs of better
days, are tied below the knees with a piece of string (a strap
costs money), lifting them up well over my " King-Miners,"
which weigh five or six pounds each. On my way to the head-
gear I recognise a few here and there with a nod or cheery word,
according to the state of my liver. Spotting my boss-boy, I go
^vith him to the store to get what I may want in the way of fuse,
caps, candles, etc. All except the caps I hand to the native, who
plunges them into a big sack and hurries off below. With a roll
of old newspapers in my hands, afterwards to be used for
" tamping-paper," I proceed to interview the shift-boss to see
if he has any special information from my partner, who is this
week on night-shift.
Long ere this the huge wheels on the top of the headgear have
begun to work, and the cage, loaded with its living freight,
has been busily ascending and descending with a regularity of
motion that speaks for quiet vigilance on the part of the banks-
man on duty. In some cases the cages arc double-deckers ; then
the natives occupy the top section and the whites the lower.
I clamber into the cage. Two bells are rung and down we go,
slowly at first, but gradually increasing the speed till the
maximum allowed by the mining regulations is reached. The
cage slows up and stops at the level on which I am working.
I scramble out of my temporary prison, liglit my lamp and ^\•ith
juy boss-boy proceed to my working-place.
On reaching my '" stopc "' I go to the box. which contains fubC,
a few spare hammers, etc., and deposit my coat and lunch
inside. I then lock it. Lunch is more impoi'tant to me than all
the rest of the contents put together I 1 then proceed to nispect
228
LIFE UNDERGROUND
the stope. My gang ol' liainiiier-boys lollow me (il they aie not
there first). When I am satisfied that the " hanging " is safe, the
natives begin to clear away from the "face" the sphntered
reef and debris, result of the previous blast. When the face is
clean, I examine it to see if there are any misfii'cs {i.e. any charges
of dynamite unexploded). I also direct that the sockets of old
lioles should be plugged, to avoid as far as possible any chance
of their still containing dynamite and being drilled into, with
fatal results. When I am satisfied that all is in order, I give my
hammer-boys the directions of their holes— their task for the
day ; and here it is that the skill of a good miner shows itself !
I have got to break as much ground as I can with the least
expenditnc of powder. To achieve this my aim is to get in as
good " })onehes " as I can ; or, in other words, to get, say, two
or three feet hollows in the face at regular intervals. In the
direction in which the holes are drilled lies the accomplishment
of this end. I must not put them at such an angle as will give
the powder too heavy a load to lift, or too light a one ; in botli
cases this means a waste of dynamite. In theformer the dynamite,
having too big a task, fails to break the rock, whilst in the latter
its breaking power is not utilised to its full extent. Experience
teaches the miner to find just the happy medium. Flaws in the
rock, slips, faults, etc., must be taken fully into account. The
observant miner, the one who uses his brains as well as his hands,
is the one who earns the biggest cheque when on contract, as he
takes full advantage of the assistance given him by Xature in
the shape of these peculiarities in the strata of the reef.
Some of my gang are safe to adhere to the direction given,
which is usuallv indicated bv marking the hanging with
candle smoke. Others, however, i-equire constant su2)ervision, as
tlie slightest deviation from the dij-ection given spells frustration
of the miner's best intentions. When all my " boys " arc started,
I return to my box, having collected their tickets. I tlien start
to fill in what jjarticulars I can at the moment. The task of
filling up the tickets of the gang is to some miners the hardest
task of the day, for there are many on the Rand more used to
229
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
the hammer and drill than to the pencil. Whilst I am thus
occupied, enjoying a pipe at the same time, my boss-boy is
cutting up the old newspapers into square pieces, rolling them
round a " tamping-stick " and then sealing them with candle
grease, the papers when completed being tube-shaped. They
are then filled with finely sifted earth, or sand.
By this time it is eleven o'clock. Shortly afterwards I espy the
light of the shift-boss, on his round of inspection, shining in the
drive. I look busy and await his arrival. He is a Cornishman —
one of the old school ; but wiiat he doesn't know of mining isn't
worth knowing.
" Well ! Arthur, how is everything ? I see the hanging of
your main reef is looking kind of shaky."
" Ay ! you're right, Ben," I reply, " I've put a couple of boys
on making a waste-pack there, though it's almost too dangerous
to work in."
" That's right, Arthur. Keep a good eye on your boys ; if
the hanging looks bad any moment, get 'em out of it ! Arthur,
you're mining that leader-stope a little too high ; keep it
low. They are kicking up on top that there's too much waste
going up ! "
" I am doing my best, Ben, to keep it low ; but you can't
bring it away with one hole as the foot-wall is as bad as the
hanging."
" Well ! Well ! Keep an eye on that main-reef-stope."
" Right-o, Ben ! "
On the departure of the sliift-boss I take another look at
my boys working to see if they are drilling correctly. With
another glance at the hanging-wall of the stopes I return to
my box. It is now noon and I begin to think of my lunch. A
timberman working near by joins me. We exchange the latest
news and gossip on the latest dismissal or on the stupidity of
mine managers in general. This ceases about one o'clock, or at
the sign of the approach of anyone in authority ; the light in
the drive gives us ample warning. I have now to go to the station
to get the dynamite I ordered. With my boss-boy I bring it
230
A sll AKV •• IIAM.IM
k; I Ki \i . nil-: ' iRi-: i <
LIFE UNDERGROUND
back to my box, preceding with the hght the native carrying it.
Then I start to make up the cJiarges for the day. First the fuse
is cut into suitable lengths, each generally of six feet (if you are
on contract and so paying for your own stores, four-foot lengths
will meet the case). The fuse is then inserted into the caps,
which are firmly tightened round it with nippers. If your cap
nippers have strayed, you use your teeth — a rather risky pro-
ceeding. The dynamite is produced and each stick is opened,
the cap with fuse attached being inserted into each premier
cartridge. All is now ready for " charging up," except that the
holes are not all finished. Presently one boy then another
comes up and asks for his ticket, stating that he has drilled
his thirty-six inches. In some cases you may go and satisfy
yourself that the native has done his work by measuring up his
hole. In most instances, however, you hand the native his ticket ;
he knows quite well you will soon fmd out when you start
charging up whether or not the hole has been fully drilled.
When the native gets his ticket, off he marches with drills on
his shoulder bound for the compound and " skofi." Between half -
past two and three o'clock I get up from my reclining position,
wiiere I have been dreaming of life in every other country except
in Africa, and with my boss-boy, who carries the "tampers,"
and my piccanin, who carries the dynamite, I proceed to my
first working-place to commence charging up. Starting from
the bottom of the stope, each hole in succession receives its dose
of dynamite and tamping, the whole being driven well home.
Charging up a narrow stope Avith some twenty or thirty holes
is good exercise, and one needs a moment's rest on completion.
The boys who have not fully completed their tasks are
only allowed the inches they have drilled ; and those who have
not drilled at least eighteen inches get a " loafer " ticket instead
of the ordinary one, which is worth to them tvro shillings or
thereabouts.
The hours for blasting vary. Four o'clock is about the average
hour on the Rand ; and ere that time I have booted the last coon
out of the sto23e, as well as any others in the vicinity, This done, I
231
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
wait for the welcome cry of " Chesa ! " from the level below.
This is shouted in eveiy mine before lighting up and is the signal
for those on the upper levels to follow suit, as well as being a
warning cj-y. At the sound of " Chesa ! " I start lighting up,
assisted by my boss-boy. A minute suffices for the operation.
One doesn't want to be too sleepy on this job. All that remains
to be done now is to eleaj- out and get up on top again. With
the mine quivering witli the concussion of the shots going off,
above, below, behind, and in fiont, I wend my way along the
drive to the station, wliere already there is a crowd of miners
assembled waiting for the skip.
After a short wait you get a place in the cage and up you go.
Soon the gloom of the mine gives place to a grey light in the
shaft. God's good air fills the nostrils once again, and sky and
clouds greet the eyes once more.
On reaching the surface I give in my envelope, in which are
enclosed the tickets of my natives, and am once again at liberty
to don apparel more suitable for the surface. After ten minutes
I emerge from the change-house clean — and once again in my
right mind !
Before one becomes a full-fledged miner one has to gain a
blasting certificate by serving an apprenticeship as a learner for
three months. It is ])Ossible to get a miner's licence in a shorter
period than that regulated by the Chamber of Mines. Years
back one could obtain a licence without even going imdergromid,
but now things are quite diffeient and a miner in possession of
a blasting ticket to-day at least knows how to handle dynamite,
even if he is not much class at mining. During learning days one
is attached to vai'ious miners doing- diffeient work, on a wage
of live sliillings a day. The montlis on this wage are very lean
ones for the learner. It is a case of the simple hfe with a
vengeance.
I was first attached to a boss -t ran miei-^ — one superintending
the cleaning up of the stopes and the tramming of the ore to
the shaft ; afterwards to a hand-stoper — a miner with hammei'-
232
\ ii1';ri ,ki ii" \ h si" K\"i.N'i \(
LIFE UNDERGROUND
boys ; then to a machine-stoper — a miner stoping with machine
drills.
I remained a learner till the opportunity arose — in the shape
of a miner getting sacked — of getting a stope of my own. I was
then handed a Provisional Licence, and one month afterwards
my permanent certificate, for which I paid five shillings. I was
now a qualified miner.
During learning days I accompanied the miner in his various
rounds, using my eyes to watch and my mouth to ask the why
and the wherefore, when the miner set his boys drilling or rigged
up his machines. Soon I tried my own hand, learning by my
mistakes. It was not long before I was charging up, under
the watchful e3'es of the miner. I don't know whether I was
specially fortunate in the miners with whom I came into contact,
or w^hether my democratic life in so many parts of the world
enabled me to keep on good terms with them, but all the miners
with whom I learnt showed me ever}i:hing I wanted to see and
answered anything I wanted to know. I was always on splendid
terms with them. I found the Rand miner, whether he was a
Dago, Cornishman or German, to be a real good fellow at heart,
and in many cases far more of a Nature's gentleman than some
of the lavender-socked gentry of the town.
I can recall very vividly the extremely gingerly way I first
handled sticks of dpiamite, the great respect I paid to de-
tonators, and the unholy funk I ^vas in when I first lit up a
stope. The method of lighting up charges, as directed by the
Chamber of Klines in the Transvaal, is by means of a " cut "
fuse. I would, however, dearly love to watch one of the com-
mittee lighting up fifty or sixty fuses — quite an ordinary number
— -by this means. His wife would be a happy widow long before
he was half-way through with the job. The only method — illegal,
I believe — c-mployed on the Rand is with the " chesa-stick."
This latter is a thin wooden stick^ — of, say, half-an-inch in
diameter- — with thin strips of dynamite wrapped round and mud
smeared over. The stick, when lighted, spits out a llame, which
is, however, checked by the damp mud, but for which the
233
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
gelatine would flare furiously. The " chesa-stick " further
acts as an excellent torch when the concussion of the mine
during blasting extinguishes your mining lamp or candle, as is
inevitably the case.
Handling dynamite and detonators, and lighting up a stope
with thirty or forty fuses and perhaps numerous " popholes "
(small charges in large rocks), is nervous work to the tyro, but a
mere trifle after a few weeks' experience. One then gets perfectly
accustomed to such work ; too accustomed, in fact, for familiarity
breeds contempt, and contempt is a dangerous sentiment to
hold in regard to dynamite. I don't think I am exaggerating
when I say that a good fifty per cent, of the accidents, fatal
or otherwise, that occur in the Rand mines nre occasioned
solely by carelessness — by disregard of the ordinary necessary
precautions when handling high explosives. You will catch your-
self complacently smoking — and Boer tobacco too ^ — sitting
on your dynamite box whilst putting detonators on your fuses,
as though you were in your mine room. You will find yourself
almost unconsciously using your teeth on the deadly, but
so harmless-looking, detonators when your cap-nippers have
strayed. You will find yourself lighting up half-a-dozen charges
and then taking out your knife to cut a small piece off one fuse,
quite oblivious — well, I will not say " quite oblivious," " aware "
is the better word — of the fact that six little jets of flame are
steadily burning their way towards huge charges of dynamite.
You will gauge to a nicety — to a couple of seconds — the sixty
or seventy seconds your fuse will burn ere it reaches the charge.
You will do this a thousand times ; but there is always the one
time possible that you will cut it too fine. And then one will
hear in the mine boarding-house : " Did you know poor old Tom
got blasted on the twenty-seventh level last night — over in
number two — smashed to hell." A miner will bite a detonator
with his teeth a thousand times ; the thousand and first time it
will blow half liis jaw away. He will kick open with liis hob-nail
^ Most South African smokers have little holes in their clothes through
burning pieces ol tobacco tailing lr(_)ni their pipes.
LIFE UNDERGROUND
boots — not with the wooden mallet supplied — a box of dynamite
a thousand times ; the thousand and first time will see him and
the natives around him being picked off the face of the drive
and put into buckets.
Some miners in tlieir utter folly will even tamp down dyna-
mite with a steel jumper, if their " charging-stick " happens to
be too long to get into the hole — literally plucking the beard of
Providence ! A miner may do it once, might do it twice, but the
third time will surely see him and his boss-boy getting a quick
despatch to Kingdom Come ! It is more than a sporting chance
that he will do the trick the first time, and successfully, which
means a loss to the mine of a jumper — and, incidentally, a
miner !
My boss-boy was once nearly blasted through his confounded
vanity. Having been lately promoted to the dignity of a boss-
boy, he had purchased out of his earnings a pair of miner's
boots (most of the natives go barefooted in the mines). As I
had many working -places it was impossible for me to do all the
lighting up, so the boss-boy did a part. I might remark in
parenthesis that if it had been possible I should not have done
it all ; for not one miner out of ten lights up himself, as a good
boy is as expert at this job as any miner, if not better. Well,
this boy, owing to his new boots being about four sizes too big
for him, in clambering up the stope went up one step and slipped
back two. He had barely reached the drive in this Irish method
of ascent before the first shot went off. He finished the last dozen
or so yards cheered and encouraged by some of the profanest
language that my memory could supply at such short notice.
That nigger, while he was with me, never wore boots again !
Perhaps my third day underground was the worst of any I
have ever spent there, though it was by no means a t}^ical day
in a miner's life. I was at the time a learner with a miner who was
hand-stoping ; and an excellent miner too. We had charged
up and were waiting for the signal to light up our stope. Some
misunderstanding apparently arose, for the higher and lower
levels, we noticed, were already lit up. Soon half the mine was
235
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
ringing and shaking with the concussion of the blasting. We
then commenced liurriedly to hght up our own stope without
further delay. By the time we had finished and were speeding
along the drive to the station tlie whole mine was thick with
smoke denser than any London fog. ^Yhat with tliis choking
smoke, the l)anging of the cliarges exploding, the crashing of
rocks, and the I'attling of flying pieces in the box-holes, I felt,
as we passed along the drive, that underground mining was
not exactly the happiest occupation in life. E^ven the miner
himself cursed freely and swore he would quit the mine directly
he got above ; but, like a sailor in bad weather, his bark was
worse than his bite. We reached the shaft with our hair and eye-
lashes as white as snow — from the thick smoke through which
we had passed !
It is very easy to lose one's way in a large mine and for
the first week or two I was continually losing myself. But I
always found some good Samaritan to put me in my right
direction again.
Mining in a narrow " leader-stope " is splendid exercise, as
one has to crawl over the boulders and rocks which litter the
foot-wall of the stopes, some of which are not four feet high. I
generally managed to crack my head or scrape my spine
before the face of my working-place was reached. Doing this
a dozen times or more in the course of a shift is as good as a
course of Turkish baths. It is, however, so often the case that
when in this state one traverses a drive wliich is comparatively
cool, thereby contracting a severe chill, as a singlet is generally
the only covering on the up])er })art of the body.
236
CHAPTER V
PREPARATIONS FOR OUR TREK TO OVAMBOLAND
I HAVE already written about the steady demand of the
Transvaal mines for native labour. An expedition with
which I was connected had as its main object the re-
cruiting of Ovambo natives in Angola, or Portuguese West
Africa. An experienced recruiter — Morgan, I will call him —
had trekked from Mossamedes, a seaport in Angola, through
Portuguese Ovamboland to Lake Xgami ; and from the Lake
through Bechuanaland to Palapye on the Rhodesian railway
He reported very favourably on the opportunities of recruit-
ing for the mines hundreds of Ovambo natives, as well
as many refugee Damaras who had sought protection in
Portuguese territory from their mailed fist " protectors " — the
Germans. He said that, as the Portuguese were contemplating an
armed occupation of their portion of Ovamboland, the natives
were anxious to settle in British territory ; for the bloody colonis-
ing methods of the Germans on their southern border did not
inspire in them any hope of finding refuge in that quarter. It was
a very striking fact that this recruiter- — ^an Englishman^ — had
travelled in and through both Portuguese and German Ovam-
boland, alone and miarmed save for a hunting rifle or two,
^\■herc no German or Portuguese would dare to go without
soldiers to protect him. So trustful were these Ovambos of the
name of Erigland — a name in their minds synonymous with
justice and protection — that they even allowed one of their head-
nivn to accompany the recruiter to Johannesburg. I would
mention I have no national prejudice and hold no brief for
England, because by the accident of birth I was born there. I
have based my views on what I have seen tor myself.
237
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
The natives of Ovamboland are a fine sturdy race of people,
unconquered as yet. They are as contemptuous of the weak and
lax rule of the Portuguese as they are distrustful and fearful of
the harsh and militaristic colonising methods of the Germ.ans,
who are the rulers — at present, the nominal rulers only — of the
southern part of their country. Their hope was that they might
proceed en ma-sse with all their cattle, Avomen and children into
British territory, where they had learnt that other weapons than
rifles were used for colonising puiposes.
A Johannesburg recruiting company decided to fit out an
expedition to bring these natives to the mines, notwithstanding
the thousands of unrailed miles that intervened, and to settle
their women and chikhen on farms, in either the Transvaal or the
Gaberones district of the Bechuanaland Pjotectorate. The task
of equipping this expedition was given into the hands of Morgan.
Theoretically, the idea was sound ; practically — and in the re-
cruiter's hands — it was not. The magnitude of the proposition
was grasped by none. Sitting in the lounge of the Victoria Hotel
in Johannesburg it was easy to regard a trek of a thousand miles
as of little consequence, to supply a thousand natives Avith food
for six weeks as a detail barely worth considering. On the
veld, however, it Avas another niatter.
Morgan was a man of great ingenuity and perseverance,
besides other excellent qualities ; but he was without the
faintest idea of business or of the value of money. He had
a most persuasive manner ; whilst you were under the spell of
liis fluent tongue he would convince you tliat black was wliite.
He was, consequently, an ideal reci'uiter, never being at a loss
for an argument to convince a native tliat th.ere was but one
ideal occupation for him — namely, to work in the gold mines of
the Transvaal. Unfoi'tunatcly — i'or his oinployers — his ideas
of business were so pcculiai- that in nuiiiy cases he would spend
seventy shillings in ordc!' to contract a boy for iiis recruiting
house, which, in turn, would only receive sixty shillings from
the mine. This unbusiness-like method and unprofitable result
worried liim not a jot, so long as he rccjuitcd tljc natue ! l-'ar
238
PREPARATIONS FOR TREK TO OVAMBOLAND
be it from my purpose to underrate the character of my com-
panion, or to dwell only on his weaknesses ; but, in order to
sketch from the beginning the course of our strange expedition, I
am compelled to throw a clear light on the deficiencies of its
leader. Morgan, however, with all his weaknesses was a splendid
companion, his stories of a varied career whiling away many a
pleasant hour by the camp fire. I have refrained from giving
his real name as I have no wish to cast any reflection on a man
who, with all his faults, was yet quite a good fellow. If I met our
erratic leader to-morrow, the past bitterness being long effaced
from my memory, I would conjure up with him the pleasant
days and weeks we spent together on the open veld.
Our party consisted of four white men, one of whom was en-
gaged in the Protectorate as our transport-rider. I will call him
Brown. For similar reasons to those above I do not give his correct
name. My brother, my senior by a couple of years, was the other
member of the party. We two were engaged by Morgan, or by the
recruiting house in Johannesburg, or both ; when it came to the
question of receiving monies due for services we were referred
by the one to the other — quite the Johannesburg method ! It
was impressed on both of us before leaving the Transvaal that
secrecy was essential for the success of the expedition, in order
to avoid putting our rivals on the qui vivc. Consequently we
both of us religiously kept our mouths shut, not even mention-
ing to our friends the destination or object of the expedition ;
but lo and behold ! when we arrived at Pala^^e Road we found
tliat what the Bechuanaland Protectorate did not know of the
scheme was not worth knowing. In short, everybody there knew
far more than we did. Not only was the trip common knowledge
of the Protectorate, but nearly all the traders in the northern
territory had received from our sanguine leader wondci'ful
promises of contracts to supply the vast hordes of natives that
were to come. If ever thcj'c were a case of counting chickens
before tlicy were hatched it was in connection with this expedi-
tion. The gullibility of the traders was also very amusing,
though " people in glass houses should not throw stones."
239
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
After our arrival in Palapye preparations for the trek went
apace ; at least the lavish expenditure of money did. Morgan
was in his element. Hundreds of pounds ran like water
through his hands ; nothing was too expensive for the out-
fit. Stores galore were puj'chased, including useless Kafir
"truck" for trading purposes; medicines enough to keep
a doctor in practice for twelve months ; provisions, from
cases of hams to hundreds of bottles of Worcester sauce.
Waggons — brand new— were brought from Mafcking ; trek-
oxen, quite untrained, were bought at top prices, as seasoned
spans.
Perhaps, however, the crowning act was IMorgan's purchase of
twenty-eight young mares, in foal, from the Orange River
Colony, to take up to Ovamboland. This alone represented an
outlay of nearly seven hundred pomids. The screaming folly
of it was that Ngamiland, through which we had to trek, was
a very hotbed of horse-sickness ; added to this, there was the
recognised danger in taking a party of young mares, in foal, for
a long, weary trek of months, part of it through the waterless
stretches of the Kalahari Desert and part through lion-infested
veld. A " greenhorn " might have been forgiven for such a
colossal piece of folly, but that an apparently sane person, who
had just traversed the very districts where the deadly ravages
of horse-sickness would be noticeable almost to a blind man,
should commit such a mad action, passes one's comprehension. In
fact, doubts as to the sanity of our leader were raised, and I for
one would not like to say whether these fears were unfounded or
not ; for to consider him unbalanced seems to be the kindest and
most charitable way to explain such a reckless waste of money.
Unfortunately neither my brother nor I could do anything to
check the foolish expenditure that went on daily. Conditions
in Bcchuanaland were strange to my brother, who was used to
the colony, whilst I, of course, was then quite ignorant of any
veld lore at all. Further, Morgan was the recognised leader of
the expedition and we were both kept much in the dark ic^'ard-
ing these pureluises ; jnost of our information was gained from
240
PREPARATIONS FOR TREK TO OVAMBOLAND
outside sources. Everything was in a pitiable state of chaos !
At last, however, the unending delay and the fast-accumulating
outlay raised very natural doubts in the minds of the promoters
in Johannesburg as to the fitness of Morgan for the position of
leader. A week spent in exchanging abusive and edifying tele-
grams at twopence a word then ensued ; edifying, at least, to
the telegraph officials in the Protectorate and to their pals (from
whom one could generally obtain any news telegraphed). As
the promoters had gone so far, they could hardly turn back ;
so the recruiter won the day.
We had purchased by now three waggons, each with its span
of oxen (eighteen in a span), the troop of horses, a case of '450
Martini rifles, with ammmiition, besides some shot-guns and
sporting "303 rifles. The waggons were all heavily loaded with
the stores, the trading goods and a load of saddles for the
young horses. After a protracted delay of nearly three weeks
in Palapye we were ready to commence trekking to Serowe,
which is the capital of Chief Khama's country.
Palapye was not a very exciting place in which to spend three
weeks. It was a small dorp, a station on the Rhodesian line. It
possessed about twenty or thirty houses ; and near it was a small
native village. Chief Khama's capital had once been romid
Palapye, but had migrated — a habit Khama indulged in quite
frequently till the tendency was checked by a suggestion from
Mafeking that it was advisable to stop in one place. Besides the
railway station, Palapye possessed a hotel and one or two trading
stores. Beyond that it had nothing much to offer in the way of
attractions. Before leaving Palapye I had to ride over to Serowe
to obtain the necessary lie ences for our guns ; though the
distance was only forty miles I was fairly stiff on my return.
When in Palapye I used to spend an hour or tvro a day trying to
recall the rudiments of horse-riding which the Woolwich Riding
School had painfully impressed on me some years back. I suc-
ceeded in recovering a little, though not without having given
some amusing displays on the horse and on the gromrd for the
edification of the elite of the little dorp. There was this about
Q 241
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
our expedition that, if it did nothing else, it did at least add
to the gaiety of dorps.
On tlie morning of the 19th May (1910) our huge " caravan "
struggled out of Palapye ; I say " struggled out " because we
didn't tiek out. Our cattle, purchased from the local hotel-
keepei" as trained spans, had apparently never before seen a
yoke ; hence our start was a series of ten-yard movements, and
ten-minute stops, to repair broken skeys and sti'ops. In one hour
we covci'cd a good five hundred yards, one hundred of which had
been trekked without more than two five-minute stops. By the
time we were two miles on our way it was time to outspan, as
the sun was ah'eady high in the heavens.
We were now in the desert. The Kalahari, however, is no desert
in appearance, as gj'ass grows abundantly during the scanty
rains in summer, and even during the diy months it is not scarce,
TIic average rainfall of the year in the desert is about ten inches.
TJie bush, scrub and stunted trees that cover the Kalahari are
more or less evergreen the whole year j'ound. It is generally
assumed that there is an abundant water supply not far from
the surface, and there is little doubt that if one could but hit
upon an inexpensive method of tapping the underground
supplies of water in the Kalahari the inhos]:)itable stretches of
desert could be converted into a country capable of cariying
stock hi large quantities. The Kalahari is vci-y flat, consisting of
level plains, three thousand feet above ihe sea, of light, sandy
soil, vai'ied at times by undulating sand-dunes. Occasional small
liills o]- low kopjes appear, as at Quebe Hills — not far from
Lake Ngami.
There are practically no inhabitants i]i the Kalahari, owing
to tlie lack of water, though wandering l^ushmen, who live as
near to Nature as is ]:)0ssi])le for any liuman being, exist where
no ^v]lite me]i could. These Ijusluncn ^\■;]] obtain Avaterljy sucking
it up Jroiu the groinid with rccd^, ;;n(l can also exist for days on
a s])ecies of water-iriclo]! which grows abundantly in the desert
at cei'tain ]')criods of the ycai . Large herds of game loam in these
wale less and inhospitable regions. (Jiiafi'e and certain of tlie
242
PREPARATIONS FOR TREK TO OVAMBOLAXD
antelope will find here a safe retreat for many years yet to come.
Soon the Kalahari will be the one big game reserve of Africa.
Unfortunately, besides being a resort for big game safe from the
hunter's gim, it is also an unassailable breeding-place for locusts,
whence vast flights periodically invade the adjoining colonies,
doing incalculable harm.
When the sun was low in the afternoon sky we inspanned
again. I must mention that our erratic leader had at the last
moment decided to remain a few more days in Palapye, so the
leadership for a time devolved on my brother. It is fatal to
have two bosses in one party ; disorder and disagreement arc
the inevitable result. The painfully slow task of inspanning the
oxen, due to the cattle being completely untrained, was at last
finished. We started trekking again, the oxen pulling wildly
as before. Towards sundown they commenced to pull more
together, but during this second trek also numerous skeys were
broken. After the oxen had been in the yokes for three hours
we outspanned them for the night.
Nearly all transport-riders have their own favourite methods
of arranging the times and the number of their treks during the
twenty-four hours. Much, of course, depends on the circum-
stances in which you find yourself, the amount of time you have
at your disposal for the journey, the weight of your load, the
size and condition of your spans of oxen, the distance between
water, and so on. In our position we were not pressed for time,
OTir spans were young and unti'aincd and our waggons were
heavily laden ; so we decided, for a time at any rate, to make
but two ti'eks in the twenty-four hours — one in the early morning
and one in the cool of the afternoon, each of about three hours
in duration. Three hours is the longest time for keeping a span
of oxen in the yokes, especially if a long journey lies ahead.
You cannot, however, rigidly adheix' to any fixed rule on the
vckl, as so much dejicnds on circumstances — and untoward
circumstances too !
It was dark when the oxen were all tied to the yol<.es for the
niglit. Ilalley'.b comet was clear and bright in the starry heavens
243
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
as we lay by the camp fire near the white-tented waggons. Just
before dawn we inspanned and pushed on over the heavy sand
till M'e reached water at a small well half-wa}-. It was very cold
before the sun rose, as it was winter-time ; to warm ourselves
we spin-red our horses over a hard stretch of veld. As they
galloped over the springy turf the keen crisp air of the Kalahari,
the most bracing in the woi-ld, made our faces tingle and glow,
horses as well as riders experiencing to the full the joy of
life. As may be imagined, we heartily appreciated a break-
fast of chops, grilled on the burning embers, M-ashed down with
good coffee — which we knew was coffee as we had roasted the
beans ourselves. The oxen were turned out to graze in charge of
the cattle-watcher, our horses also, after having knee-haltered
them. To kncc-h alter your horse on the veld is as essential
as keeping your rifle clean ; otherwise you will have to spend a
fcAV weary hours in picking up the spoor of the strayed animal.
During the heat of the day we smoked and dozed in the shade
of the waggon. The natives did the same, when not eating. The
cattle, when they had eaten their fill, would stand motionless
out of the glare of the midday sun under the scanty shade of
some stunted tree.
Inspanning when the sun was sinking, we had not been
trekking an hour before the front waggon, through careless driv-
ing, smashed its dissclboom by coming hard u]) against the stump
of a tree. This is not a very serious or unusual occurrence on the
veld ; but then it appeared a huge disaster. This sudden intro-
duction to trouble on the veld quite disconcerted us both.
Instead of dispatching the driver and the voorlooper with axes
to cut dovvn a tree and shape it to the required size — the usual
course of procedure^ — my brother and I started to splice the
broken sliaft with bolts, the natives calmly looking on whilst we
worked like Trojans. Our splice was but temporary, as half-an-
hour afterwards the strain of the um'uly span smashed the
waggon-shaft again. Nothing daunted, we renewed the splice by
the micertain light of a flickering candle, strengthening it this
time by means of wet strips of hide. The job completed, we once
244
PREPARATIONS FOR TREK TO OVAMBOLAND
again resumed our trek. We were much in trouble during that
trek to Serowe, or so it appeared to us then. Our disselhoom
smashed three times. My brother and I each lost our way in
the veld. We had, moreover, not the faintest idea how much
food to give our natives. In short, all sorts of little trifles worried
us then, little molehills seeming in our eyes like momitains. I
am sure my brother, somewhere up in the African wilds, must
smile as I do when he recalls our first experiences on the Kala-
hari veld. His laiowledge of trekking in the colony was no help
to him here, the conditions being so different ; as for me, I had
then about as much idea of inspanning an ox as a Christian
parson has of Buddhism.
On the evening of the third day that eventful trek came to
an end. We outspanned in the stadt of Serowe, the capital of
Chief Khama's country, the Bamangwato reserve. His village
was a large one, consisting of numerous grass-thatched huts,
made of reeds and mud, each location being separated by narrov/
lanes or passages deep in sand. Here and there the whitewashed
tin roof of a trading store or the residence of a trader, stood out
above the sea of huts. It was hard work for man or beast to
plod through the heavy sand round the huts ; and to lose one's
^vay was the easiest thing imaginable. Here and there amidst
the locations a solitary tree threw a scanty shade over an open
sandy place, on which was erected a semicircle of tree poles,
twelve feet or so in height — the judgment seat or kgotla of a
headman. Early morning would see Khama sitting in his kgotla
surrounded by his headmen, dispensing Justice. When the sun's
rays appeared over the walls the court was dissolved.
On the day after our arrival we met the old chief, who,
notwithstanding his eighty years, is still a fine, well-preserved
man, lean, but straight as a dart. Even to-day he is one of
the finest horsemen in his tribe and can ride to a standstill the
best of his braves. He is the leading chief of Bechuanaland and
was present as such at the diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria.
I saw in his house a signed portrait of Queen Victoria and one
of the late King Edward, of both of which he was inordinately
245
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
proud. During the year 1910 he celebrated the fiftieth anni-
versary of his membership in the Christian Church. The old chief
is a rich man and owns many herds of cattle. He has, besides,
so rumour informed one, a substantial balance at the bank.
Khama receives an annual sum from the Government as well as
a certain percentage of the hut -tax receipts. The mining rights
of his territory are owned by the Chartered Company, from
which he receives a certain grant.
My conversation with him was through the medium of an
interpreter, as Khama feigns ignorance of the English language,
though he has more knowledge than he confesses. The interview
was with the object of learning where we might make our camp
during our stay in his village. We were told that we could camp
at the Mukwe, a few miles outside Serowe ; here the grazing was
good and the water plentiful — two essentials for a party with
so much live-stock.
The following evening we trekked towards our camping-place.
There were one or two nasty hollows for our waggons to negotiate
before the regular waggon track was gained ; and with our un-
trained spans we feared disaster. Fortunately the waggons passed
safely through the sluits, and when they reached the heavy sand
road my brother and I rode on ahead. The night was a perfect
one, and a full moon lit up the country round as though it
were day. No moon seems to have such brilliancy as that which
shines in an African sky !
Riding in Indian hie over the narrow waggon track, we reached
the Mukwe, where we looked for a suitable place to make our
camp, bearing in mind the necessity for high ground and
proximity to water. Having found a likely spot we kindled a
fire and lay down alongside to await the arrival of the waggons.
Our horses, now off-saddled, stood tethered to a tree close by.
Everything was very peaceful and still.
Presently the cracking of wliips and the shouting of the drivers
announced the approach of the waggons which shortly loomed
in sight, the poor oxen plodding wearily in their yokes, as the
sand was very heavy.
246
\\ \l'^■|•;. oiR -r,\i<|-| m; ]■< >i\ r
W \ M. u: \., (■ \ I i ; ]'. 1 \ I i!!-: I\ \i \n \i>i 1 M
PREPARATIONS FOR TREK TO OVAMBOLAND
Next day our natives were kept busy in making kraals (bush
enclosures) for the cattle and horses, chopping down thorn
bushes for the puipose. We then started the task, one of no httlc
magnitude, of branding the young mares. ])uring this operation
I sighed for the skill of one of those Califoinians in using the
lasso ; the blundering and crude methods of the natives made
me almost weep for my own inability to demonstrate how they
should go about their task. However, time being no object, the
task of branding was eventually accomplished.
The natives attached to our expedition were nearly all
Damaras, refugees from German South-West Africa. The
Damaras, or Hereros, as they are more often called, are an in-
telligent race of natives ; in fact, in my opinion, one of the most
intelligent races in Africa. They are very musical, some of them
possessing excellent voices. To hear a party of them — men and
women — singing on the veld is a positive treat.
The Damara native has excellent material and can be ruled
easily if properly handled. He needs firm but just treatment.
Rouse the devil in him and he will respond pretty quickly, as
many a German knows to his cost ; let him get the upper hand
by weak treatment and it is the devil's own job to get him in
his place again, as we soon knew. Most of the natives engaged
to come on this trek had been with Morgan on his first trip from
Mossamedes. Morgan's recruiting methods — cliiefly bribery and
conciliation — v;crc the worst possible to command in an expedi-
tion such as ours, where big and valuable interests were at stake.
Natives as servants and natives as prospective recruits for a
mine need quite different treatment. From the outset we had
trouble with our Damaras. Only two or three days after we had
camped at the Mukwe, by which time the recruiter had arrived,
several of the natives rode into Serowe, tliough told only to
exercise some of the young horses near the camp. News reached
us that our Damaras were carousing on Kafir beer in a kraal
in the stadt, and that the horses were still saddled and at the
mercy of any passer-by, I was despatched by the recruiter to
settle the matter ; this I did by using fairly sharp and vigorous
247
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
methods. I found the natives stupidly drunk ; so I kraaledthe
horses, leaving them in the care of a ti-ader, and compelled the
natives to walk back to tJic camp. Tlie following day they com-
plained bitterly of this tieatment to Moi'gan, who, though to my
face supported my action, behind my back (I learned afterwards)
sided with the natives. Fi'om the start to the finish the recruiter
undermined the authority of the other white men in the party,
with the intention of making it a " one-man show." He blustered
to our faces and used threats of punishment when any of us
reported insubordination on the part of certain natives, while
beliind our backs he belittled our authority. The expedition was
doomed to failure from the outset ; and, had it not been that
the trek gave us the opportunity of visiting parts of Africa
unknown to us, both my brother and I would have then and
there severed our connection with the whole affair.
Our leader now took into his head to return to Johannesburg
to explain, or to endeavour to do so, the reason of the unendmg
delay and the excessive expenditure which had now readied
the sum of thi'cc thousand pounds — a sum more than treble
what was actually needed !
It was arranged that I should go ahead with two of the waggons
and twenty of tlie horses, as it was not advisable for all to reach
the wells at the same time on account of the scarcity of water
in them. The transport-i'ider whom we had engaged was to
accompany me to assist with his knowledge of the veld. His
chief trait, howevei', \\as that he was a most colossal liar; though,
to do him justice, in no way a malicious one. In African parlance.
Brown was a terrible- " cliancei'." The numljcr of lions he had
shot was enormous ; the charges he had led in the Boer War
were legion ! He had been brought up in the native stadt of
Scj'owe and iiad iinl)i}K'd much of the native method of thought
and jea^oning, and, unfortunately, much of the unreliability of
the nati\'e too. He was nevertheless a woi'ker, and possessed an
excellent dispc)>ition. Brown was, indeed, a most amiable chap,
nevei' getting the least offended if you went to sleep in the
middle of one of his stii'ring chai'ges in the Boer War. In our
248
PREPARATIONS FOR TREK TO OVAMBOLAND
" slim " leader's hands he was a child ; and the last I heard of the
unfortunate chap was that he was a prisoner in Portuguese
Africa on a charge of gun-running, one of the waggons with him
having more guns than the permit called for.
On the morning of the 5th of June I bade farewell to my
brother, who was left in charge of the camp at Hukwe, and with
Brown rode away to overtake the waggons and horses that had
gone on ahead.
249
CHAPTER VI
TREKKING THE KALAHARI DESERT
WE oveitook the waggons not three miles beyond the
camp and found one of them ah-eady broken down,
the " bugle " of the disselhoom having parted under
the heavy strain of the thick sand. Repairing the damage, after
an hour's delay^ — and what is an hour on the veld, where you
reckon in days and weeks ? — we trekked on reaching water
towards evening, after one short outspan at midday. The sand
in places was terribly heavy. The oxen sometimes stuck fast,
the waggons being far too heavily laden. We outspanned by the
water for the night, kraaling the horses and fastening the oxen to
their yokes. That night I held an indabav;ii\\ the waggon natives
and endeavoured to repair, so far as was possible, the damage
already done by our leader. I explained to the natives that if
Brown and I told them to do something it had to be done ; that
it was idle for them to contiiiue telling us what the recruiter
used to allow them to do. I told them bluntly that here I was
their boss. Further, I arranged their rations. This also caused
considerable discontent, as the foolish recruiter had been in the
habit of giving them Boer meal, whilst I had on the waggon only
mealies and Kafir corn, which is the usual food for natives.
I allotted to each boy his duties, making one of them the boss-
boy for the horses.
It was late in the evening before things were arranged, for it
was a slow task talking to the natives, some of whom were
Bcchuanas and some Damaras, through the medium of two
interpreters. Brown, of course, spoke Bechuana fluently having
been born in the country, but he had no knowledge of the
Damui'M. language. One needs unlimited patience for indabas
250
TREKKING THE KALAHARI DESERT
with natives, as they never broach a subject directly but beat
all round the bush.
The scene was picturesque. The two white men sitting on
boxes with their dogs curled up at their feet. The group of
natives squatting round the fire, the flickering rays of which
illuminated their ebony faces and the overhanging leafy
branches of the kameeldoorn under which all were grouped.
Close by, in the shadow, the white tents of the waggons stood out
in bold relief. The oxen tied to the yokes lay slumbering peace-
fully. But for the shrill cry of a night-bird, the rustle of a sneak-
ing jackal in the bush, or the far-off howl of a marauding wolf
- — nothing broke the quiet stillness of the African night.
As we found that one or two articles necessary for trek had
been left behind we did not inspan the following day, but sent
back a runner to fetch what was needed. Brown went out with
his gun towards some neighbouring kopjes to find something
for the pot. He returned in the evening with a couple of guinea-
fowl, which were plentiful in the neighbourhood. We had one
each for our supper. Imagine, dear reader, eating a fat fowl for
your evening meal. It would be a hard task in civilised life, but
not in the least on the veld. What the natives obtained from
the remains of our meal was not very much. After a couple of
pipes and a few stirring yarns from my companion we turned
in. We slept that night in the waggon, as rain had set in — rather
an unusual occurrence for that time of the year.
We spent most of the following day in overhauling our bridles
and saddles, shortening girths, and selecting stirrups and bits
out of the stock in the waggon. The horse-gear, which we had
purchased in Pretoria, was all condemned military stock, the
saddles being the old pattern used by the Indian army, particu-
larly suitable for our young and untrained horses, not to mention
one untrained rider !
In the al'tei'iioon we insjoanned and trekked on till the sun had
set, making but poor progress over the heavy sand. We camped
for the night beside two other waggons which had just come
down from Lake Ngami. The t^v'o Dutchmen with the waggons,
251
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
one of whom was a missionary, told us that they had come from
the Ghansi veld (which lies on the borders of German South-
West Africa) via the Lake. From them we learnt all the news
of the road. The first and chief topic of conversation between
those meeting each other trekking the Kalahari, whether natives
or white men, is water. " Where is the next water ? " " Is
pan dry ? " " Has well any water ? " These are the
questions each puts on first meeting. We learnt here that, though
the water in the wells and vleis thi'ough the desert M'as very
scanty, Lake Ngami was filling up for the first time in ten years,
and that the River Botletle was overflowing its banks every-
where ; so much so that all waggons had now to make large
detours. This was no good news for us, with our heavy waggons
and large quantity of young live-stock.
Early the next morning we sent back our spans of oxen and
horses to the last water as it was full sixteen miles to the next ;
and this meant three or four long treks for our heavily laden
waggons. Shortly after noon we inspanned as the day was
dull. We trekked on steadily till nearly sundown, when we
unyoked the cattle to give them a graze. Inspanning again, we
pushed on through the greater part of the night, only outspan-
ningfor short intervals to rest the oxen. The sand was terribly
heavy and our drivers had to make free use of their long wliips
to urge on the wearied beasts. Trekking through the descit
under such conditions is a cruel job.
Just before noon on the next day wo reached the Kolokome
well, by which we outspanned. ^Ve had been trekking for nearly
fourteen hours to cover sixteen miles- — hardly more than one
mile per hour ! So heavy is the sand in the desert that the
wagsons often sink to their axles and stick fast. Most of the
veld here is surrounded by low kopjes on which scrub and trees
grow abundantly. The ground is covered with tliorn bushes
of all descri])tions, the mimosa-thorn being prominent. The
waachi een heetjc (wait a bit) tliorn fully lived up to its name,
its hooked s])ike taking many a thread out of strong khaki
clothes.
252
TREKKING THE KALAHARI DESERT
The well at Kolokome is sunk in limestone rock, with a crude
windlass fixed at the top and a galvanised-iron trough to hold
the water. There was no rope so we utilised our oxen-rheims,
tied together, to haul up the buckets of water. The well at Kolo-
kome only has M'ater alter the rains, for there is apparently no
natural spring.
It was a pleasure to watch the poor cattle, parched with dust
and thirst, greedily suck up the welcome liquid, swelling before
our eyes. When they had drunk their fill, they were turned out to
graze in charge of the cattle-watcher.
Late in the afternoon we made another trek to the next
\vcll, at Momongwe. Here we kraaled the horses and cattle for
the night. Since a messenger we were daily expecting had not
yet arrived, we decided to stop by this well to wait his coming.
He ^vas to ])ring on the rifles, which the cattle-watchers would
need in the lion veld, as they had not all arrived from Pretoria
when we left. As water in the Momongwe well was fairly plenti-
ful, it was a suitable camping-place. The veld around abounded
in birds of all descriptions. Namaqua partridge and guinea-fowl
were especially plentiful. Consequently we always had plenty of
food in the pot. We made good use of this period of waiting to
doctor up the horses, some of which had become badly chafed
about their heads through ill-fitting head-stalls. It was no easy
task to catch them, as they Avere as timid and wild as they
could possibly be. To get them accustomed to being handled,
we decided to picket them in future, whenever possible,
instead of merely kraaling them. It was, however, much easier
to decide to do this than to do it. On the first night we only
succeeded in tying up half of them ; and that took us the best
part of two hours ! After two days' waiting no messenger had
ai-rivccl. Being now a little alive to the unreliability of our
leader's promises, I decided to send back a mounted native to
fetch the rifles. He left in the afternoon ; whilst we inspanned
to trek to the next water, which lay twenty-six miles off, in
]Mukarane Pan. The horses went ahead. We made a long trek
till sundown. At dawn we trekked on, till we met two of the
253
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
horse-boys, who had returned to inform us that one of the
mares had got lost, having bolted, frightened by a sudden move-
ment in the bush. Fearing that the mare might return to Serowe,
wliich would mean a long delay before she was recovered, we
instructed the natives to get on the spoor of the horse and
not to return till they had located the animal's whereabouts.
Towards evening we approached the vlei. Here we outspanned,
quickly unyoking the thirsty oxen to give them a drink. "We drew
up our waggons, one parallel to the other, and between them we
fastened the horse-line. We picketed our horses, or, at least,
as many as we could catch ; and these we only caught by
holding out enticing handfuls of mealies. We had but little fear
of lions here, though their presence was not unknown. Indeed,
on my return trek just before ari-ival here, a party of lions had
travelled right into the desert in the wake of a big mob of cattle,
and were successful in securing one or two. Such an occurrence
is, however, rare, as lions generally keep near water.
The water in ^lukai'anc vlei was plentiful, but very muddy.
It was almost impossible to drink it except when boiled with
coffee ; even then one saw in one's cup a thick sediment of mud.
To wash was a waste of time ; the water made one, if an}^i;hing,
more dirty than before. Tiekking through these waterless
stretches of the Kalahai'i is poor fun.
Some Kalahai'i bushmen — the Mosarwas — turned up at the
waggojis shortly after we had outs])anncd to sell us milk. As our
nati\'cs had retained with no tiustworthy infoi'mation as to
the missing horse, we arranged \\ ilh tlic bushmen to go out and
iind tlio animal, promising them soinc tobacco on tlieir return.
The Mosarwas are the Ara])s of the Kalahari. In appearance
they arc sJiort, lean and of poor physique, their prominent
cheek-l)ones givi]\g them almost a ■Vloiigolian cast. Two ratlicr
peculiar ])liysieal featmes al)out tliem ai'c thcMr prominent
buttocks, pariiculai'ly notieealjle in tlieir Avomenfolk, and thcii'
crinkled and creased abdomeiis. The latter peculiarity is due to
their peiiodieal feasts and fasts. One day, when opportunity is
kind, they will eat to jcplelion — almost to ]3urstingq)oint — ■
254
TREKKING THE KALAHARI DESERT
their stomachs expanding to an immense size ; the usual spell
of starvation, save for a few roots or berries, will ensue. The
consequent contraction is not hard to imagine. The Mosarwas
are undoubtedly of Hottentot extraction — pm'c bushmcn are
practically extinct — being similar in appearance and having
some like customs and words. Their talk has been described
as similar to the snapping of a rusty flintlock, being nothing
much more than a scries of clicks and clucks. One reason put
forward to explain the adoption of this guttural mode of speech
is that their presence would not be thereby betrayed to the
game in the vicinity. The Mosarwas are held in contempt by all
other native tribes, as they possess no permanent homes, no
lands and no chief. They live as near to Nature as does any
aborigine in any part of the world, existing on the wide veld on
roots, berries or any animal they may chance to kill. Their
weapons are chiefly the spear and the bow and ariow, tipped
witli a poison which is extracted from a grub and mixed with
snake poison and gum. This is most deadly in its action, but
very slow ; a giraffe, struck by one of these arrows, takes
nearly two days to die.
The veld lore of the Mosarwas is nothing short of marvellous.
They are unsurpassed as trackers, equalled by none, unless it be
the aborigine of Australia. A Mosarwa will read from a spoor in
tlic veld, or even on the hard sandstone, where it is unnotice-
ablc to the average hunter, what kind of buck has passed,
whether going to or returning from water, whether the animal
is close by, its intentions — wlicther just grazing or on its way to
another district. He can easily determine the species of animal
from the way the grass has been nibbled. In short, nothing is
concealed from his keen eyes, so inexhaustible is his knowledge,
or instinct foi-, the habits of the game and birds in the Kalahari.
A ^vounded buck never escapes him. On foot they will run dozen
small game, gradually tiring out the animal. With crooked fingers,
wit'i an occasional guttural "click," they follow the almost in-
visible spoor, trotting steadily for hours. The result is inevitable.
They know of every pan or vlei that liolds water in the
255
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
region they frequent. They cover almost unheard-of distances
over immense stretches of waterless desert. Childbirth, to a
Mosarwa woman, is a mere bagatelle, entailing but an hour or
two's delay when a party is on the move. I must not, however,
dwell more on these Sherlock Holmeses of the veld, save to add
that it was a party of these bushmen we despatched to find our
missing horse. But a few hours had elapsed before two of them
returned with the information that they had found the where-
abouts of the strayed mare and that the rest of their party was
watching by the horse. It had strayed some twelve miles — but
what is twelve miles to a ]Mosarwa ?
As there was little game by the vlei at which we were camped
we bought a sheep from a native, who was taking do^^Ti some
stock to Serowe to sell. It cost us fifteen shillings, being one of the
fat -tailed type of sheep. From the tail alone we obtained many
pounds of excellent dripping, which is a splendid "stand-by"
when on a long trek. For some days, when game was scarce,
bread and dripping would be our staple diet.
While camped here, we employed part of the time in
" lunging " some of the young horses to break them in a little,
as it was essential that they should be fairly accustomed to being
handled before we reached the lion veld. After a wait of four
days our momited native returned with the guns. We thereupon
struck camp and prepared to trek on to the next water. We
repacked the waggons, taking special care that our vaatjes
(water-barrels) were full of water, as we had in front of us a long
" thirst." It was sixty miles to the wells of Lotlhakane, where
our next water lay. Twenty miles before these Avells lies the pit
of Ditowane ; this well, however, we had learnt from natives
on the road was dry. We were hoping against hope that the
news would not be quite true, that there would be at least a
little water in the well, native iiitoUigcncc being never very
reliable, for we feared that, if correct, our spans of oxen would
never reach water, as sixty miles of heavy sand was too great
a distance for our young beasts to pull such heavily laden
waggons. Willi not very light hearts we inspanned and started
250
TREKKING THE KALAHARI DESERT
trekking. Our start was bad. The oxen had been in tlie yokes for
only an hour when Brown, who had gone ahead witli the horses
with tlic intention of riding right through to water, returned,
informing me that all the horses had bolted and scattered.
It seemed tliat one of the packhorses had slipped its load, and a
frying-pan clattering along behind its heels had frightened the
whole bunch of young animals out of their wits ; they had bolted
in all directions. There was nothing else to be done but to out-
span where we were, and, when the horses were collected, to
camp for the night ; early in the morning we must send the
animals back to water before starting again. This we did. As the
follov.ing day was dull, we inspanned at noon after the oxen had
returned from water. The horses again went on ahead. We trekked
hard all that day and through the night also, only outspanning
for short intervals. The oxen pulled well in the cool of the night,
but towards the noon of the next day they became very leg-
weary, and only too often we had to use our whips and sjamboks
to urge on the tired beasts. Over mile after mile of waterless
veld the poor animals struggled, pulling their heavy loads.
All that day and all through the next night we trekked, save for
an occasional short outspan in which the tired cattle were almost
too done up to cat. Slowly they were becoming exhausted, being
young and unaccustomed to these dreaded " thirsts." If the well
at Ditawanc held no water, then our liope of reaching the water
at Lotlhakanc was but slight. Hour after hour passed with the
same eternal bush and scrub, the same eternal sand ; hour after
hour heard the same remorseless cracking of the long whips, the
same yells and curses of the drivers, as the exhausted beasts
time and again dropped in their yokes panting for breath and
for water. Clouds of dust clotted their parched nostrils and
mouths ; tlic heat of the rising sun added to their sufferings.
But it was ]io time for ^jity — water had to be reached !
Slioilly alter sunrise on the thiid day wc reached Ditawanc
Well. To oirr joy we found that there was just sullicieiit water
for the two spans, though very muddy. The well was half choked
up through an ox having fallen in. We outspanned our oxen
R 257
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
warily and allowed them to drink in couples. More than one span
foolishly unyoked all together have made a blind stampede for
the water, resulting in one or two falling into the well and being
killed. One thought the ])Oor animals would never stop drinking,
so parched with dust and thii'st were tlicy. They had been in the
yokes for over thirty hours without water. Had there not been
water in this well, half our spans would never have reached
Lotlhakane. Oxen have a really wonderful 2:)0wer of endurance.
Seasoned spans are at times able to go without water for as long
as five days, though, unless every oppoi'tunity possible is given
them to graze when the dew is heaviest on the grass, the chances
are that they will succumb. At such times everything depends
on the driver and on his skill in husbanding, by judicious
arrangement of the treks, the strength of his oxen.
There are two pits at Ditawane : one belonging to the Govern-
ment, the other to a native. The foi-mer is nearly always dry.
It is apparently left for a native to supply the requirements of
man and beast at Ditawane. As it was necessary to rest our
spans, as well as our horses, after their long trek, we cleaned out
the native well. Horses are more fastidious about their drinking
water than cattle. All of us, white men and natives, buckled
to, and after three hours of real liard work shovelling soil and
hauling it up in buckets, hand over hand, we soon had a fair
supply of water accumulating. The work was a welcome change
from the rather lazy life led on trek in a veld poorly provided
with game.
The surroundings of the Ditawane wells are exceedingly
picturesque. Encircling the open s]iaee. wlieie the wells arc sunk,
stand large shady inopane trec^. Xuiiicious gaily coloured little
bii'ds liop round tlie edge of the ^vel], drinking fj'om the pools
whei'e the cattle have Ijcen watered. ]\Iy sliglitcst movement
would I'riglitcji them away, only to return when all was quiet
again. I spent majiy an idle moment counting the different
colours of these little eieatures. watching their dainty move-
ments, whilst the sun sank slowly behind the tj-ees. Everything
then became very quiet and still. As 1 sat alone by the edge of the
25.S
4 ^^rtFtn
:., -^^'-.^
TREKKING THE KALAHARI DESERT
well, so far away from civilisation and the neurotic life of towns,
a feeling of peace and contentment would steal over me lulling
to sleep all the petty ambitions that seem to loom so large on
one's horizon elsewhere. I would sit on till my feathered friends
sped away, till darkness had wrapped the silent veld in its
cloak, wondering whether the wells by the cedars of Lebanon
were as peaceful as the wells of the Kalahari.
The moon was full during these nights by the wells, and Avlicn
it rose the veld was as light as day.
One evening, when the moon had l^cen up for a cou])le of
hours, Brown and I took our guns to try to bag some guinca-
fo"\vl which wci'c roosting in the trees not far from the waggons.
Try as hard as we could, move as quietly as wc did, we were
unable to get a shot at them. The clear light betrayed our
slightest movement. After being led on from tree to ti-ee,
we at last gave it up in disgust, and started to I'ctirrn to the
Avaggons. In returning, I must co]ifess that, had it not been
for Brown, I should have been hopelessly lost, as I had been so
intent on the birds in the trees that I had not kept my bearings.
Fortunately my companioii was not the tenderfoot I was.
The Kalahari is one of the most difficult velds in which to
hunt. It is as flat as a billiard-table ; every tree is the same as its
fellow, every bush the same as another. At times 1 have left the
waggons and, when not five hundred yards off, have experienced
no little difficulty in fmding them again. One gradually acquires
some little veld lore by experience, though it is not learnt in a
day. The power of observation develops slowly. One learns,
when leaving the waggons or the camj), to note the height and
the angle of the sun and the direction of the wind, if any. The
latter is a most important point on a dark and cloudy night.
The easiest Avay to do this is by observing the bend of the grass
oj- leaves, or by letting a stream of line sand slowly flow Jrom
one's hand. It is not long either before you begin instinctively
to take notice of landmarks, such as ant-hills or dead trees,
which stand out conspicuously amidst the green foliage. Ant-
hills in the Kalahari are excellent landmarks, if you take the
259
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
essential precaution of looking at them from both sides — i.e.
when you approach them and when you have passed by —
otherwise, they lead you astray. These ant-hills are quite a
feature of the Kalahari, some of them reaching a height of
twenty to thirty feet. In the veld through which we were
trekking we could obtain but little help from the subsoil or
from the nature of the trees, as the whole country round was
uniform in nearly every particular. Even the natives — the
Bechuaiia, not the ]Mosarwa — frequently lose themselves,
though born in the country. Game spoor in the Kalahari is
also most difficult to follow. Owing to the sandy soil it is very
hard to determine tlie age of the spoor, which is never clearly
cut, often deadened and partly obliterated by the wind.
Having given up our attempt after guinea-fowl, we returned
to the camp and ate a substantial supper of bread and dripping.
We left Ditav/ane the following afternoon and trekked for
the Lotlhakane Well ; the horses, as before, went ahead with
Brown in cliarge. Two treks brought us to a well-known land-
inark in the veld around — the knoppidoorn trees, tall and
upright, and grouped together just alongside the waggon road.
They lie half-way between the two waters. We stopped the best
part of the night at this outspan spot till dawn broke ; wc then
continued our trek. Three long treks brought us hi sight of the
large Jcameeldoorn trees of Lotlhakane valley. When entering the
valley, the heavy sand gave place to a hard road, which was
much aj)prcciated by the oxen. Brown met us a mile or two away
bringing out my horse with him, and we enjoyed together a
lovely gallop over the hard stretch of veld to the camp, the
gleaming lights of which shone through the trees. The night
was cold, but the air was delicious. A thin coating of ice covered
the water in our buckets in the jnorinng, but under two or thiec
heavy Ijlankets the cold never affected our sleep in the o])cn air.
\Vc were joined that night by a young trader who was riding up
to the lake on hor^-cbaek — by no means a light task. There was
plenty of food, as Bro\' :). whilst waiting for the waggons, had
spent his time in sJiooLing a young duyker and a eou})]e of fat
260
TREKKING THE KALAHARI DESERT
guinea-fowl. Venison steaks, with peach jam as a siil)stitiite for
red-currant jell}', and roast guinea-fowl, with " sourdough "
l)rcad, made a feast fit for the gods. We sat by the hre, shielded
from the wind by a scherm (a rude enclosure made of bush),
yarning and smoking till late, the light of the dying fire being
paled by the I'ays of the rising moon. It is easy- — only too easy
alas ! for my peace of mind — to recall whilst penning these lines
the picturesque appearance of our camp that night by the well
at Lotlhakane : the bright canopy of the heavens above our
]30wer, the flickering light of the camp fire, the still line of horses
picketed between the two waggons, the tents of which shone
white in the rays of the moon ; the kraal close by sheltering our
weary spans lying deep in slumber ; and the little camp fires of
the natives gleaming through the wheels of the waggons. It all
comes back to me so vividly ! Those nights on the African veld
seem but as yesterday. It is impossible to forget the veld.
We stayed at the well for three days in order to rest our oxen
and horses, more particularly the latter, as some of them Avere
showing ill effects from the hard trekking. Three of them had
already prematurely dropped foals, and were, in consequence,
in poo'' condition. Oh the folly of bringing tliose young mares,
all in foal, on such a journey ! Each one of them — -without an
exception — threw her foal prematurely during the journey up
to the Lake ; and w^as it to be wondered at, seeing that, apart
from the hardships of the trek, they had different grass to graze
on daily ?
Late in the afternoon of the third day we packed our waggons,
inspanned and started to trek towards the next water, many
inilcs ahead. My information as to the distance to this water
was vague, but I was informed by Brown that by noon of the
next day we should reacli water. Acting on this piece of informa-
tion, I gave the order at sundown that the liorses should be
picketed for the night, little dreaming what a foolish thing I was
doing in giving such an order and how grossly I was mis-
informed. Had I had even a suspicion that water might not be
reached by noon of the next day I should have ridden through a
261
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
good ])art of tlie niglit, so as to avoid letting tlic horses go witli-
oiit water longer than t^vel^'e hours, as these am'nials soon get
distressed when parehed with thirst. As it was, no misgivings
crept into my mind. I knew full well that iny companion had
travelled this road more than once ; and, moreover, he con-
fii'ined my order.
I had not then learnt how " native " was his mind, and how,
consequently, unreliable was his estimation of distance, a thing
no native mind seems to be able to grasp. We saddled up at smi-
risc, overtaking oui- waggons which had i)assed us in the night.
On my arrival I found most of the cattle had strayed in the veld
—a fact not to be nuieh surprised at, as no white man had been
there. Leaving instructions to inspan directly the missing cattle
were found, we rode on, driving the little mob of horses ahead
of us. \Tc rode steadily through that day till the sun sank ;
but not a drop of water could we find in the veld. Picketing the
thirsty and tired horses for the night, we saddled up again early
in the morning and pushed on hard till the salt vlei of Chukutsa,
one of the smaller ^Makarikari salt ]jans, gleamed througli the
trees. Several of the horses were ])y now very distressed, two
more of them during the night having di'opped their foals. The
salt pan looked very picturesque from the liigh ground, which
was covered with a thick forest of mopanc trees. I fear, howe\'er,
I Avas then in no mood to a])preciate the beaut}' of the scene,
disgusted as I was with the imrelia1)ility of my transport-rider's
information and woi'i'ied about the condition of the horses. As
I liad anticipated, on nearing the salt vlci it was more than wc
could do to prevent the thirsty and pai'ched animals stampeding
to drink the bi'ackisli water, which meant, in nine cases out of
ten, certain (k>ath. Despite all oiu' eli'orts the horses rushed to
drink, though I had half a hope that their instinct might warn
them not to after they had once taxied the ])i'aekish water. Un-
fortimately theii' thirst conquei'ed iustinet, and it Avas only by
di]it o)' Using our sjamboks J'j'eely across tlieii' Hanks that we could
get the yoimg horses a\vay fi'om the \vater, E\'en the gelding I
was riding — an old limiting horse who should liave known
262
TREKKING THE KALAHARI DESERT
better — tried anxiously to drink, so thirsty was he. Pushing
steadily on, we reached IMachanin Pan — a rain-water vlei — by
noon. Here we off-saddled and allowed the horses to get a
refreshing drink at last. The distance my ti'ansport-rider had
estimated as an eight-hour ride took us nearly twice as long.
We had covered not far short of fifty miles from Lotlhakane, the
horses having been without water for nearly forty-eight hours.
After a long wait the waggons arrived. The oxen also were in
a very distressed condition, having been excessively delayed in
the "thirst " owing to the carelessness of the driver and the
cattle-watcher. One ox had fallen in the yoke and had had to
be released, being utterly worn out. This meant the reduction
of the span by two oxen, which consequently had thrown extra
work on the rest. Fortunately at this vlei we met a native in
charge of a mob of cattle on their way to Serowe, from which I
selected the two best oxen, and so made up a full span again.
By this pan we shot our first duck ; and it proved excellent
eating. We aJso caught sight of some pauw, but they were too
far out of I'ange. After a rest of a day we inspanned and trekked
on. We were now almost out of the desert, the sandy soil giving
place to more hard and stony ground. Much of the veld here
was bare and flat, with here and there a few solitary palms — a
species of the Borassus palm. In the distance we noticed thick
smoke, which, we learnt, came from the reeds of the River
Botletle, which had been fired by the natives in the vicinity.
Whilst trekking over these bare flats, which are in many cases
the beds of dry salt pans, I noticed mirages in the distance- — and
particularly during the heat of midday. The name Makarikari
means mij'agc.
At sundown on 1st July we reached ]\Iopipi Tree stadt, or
" Barker's Store,*' as it is more popularly known in the Pro-
tectorate. It had taken us twenty-six days to cross the stretch
of desert that lies between Khama's capital and Mopipi. It is
hci'e one iii'st strikes the River Botletle.
263
CHAPTER VII
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE
MOPIPI was a rather desolate-looking place. It pos-
sessed one trading store, which was run by the only
white man living in the stadt. Jn front of the store
stood the ti'ce from which it took its name. The trader was
a most interesting and hospitable fellow, with, however, the
same weakness as that of my companion. Briefly, he was a superb
liar ! The peculiar part of it all was that neither of them was
aware of the beam in his own eye, though fully alive to the mote
in the other's. At different times each took me aside to warn me
to accept CU771 grano the yarns of the other — a truly humoi'ous
situation ! It was quite a pleasant comedy, though at times I
must confess to feeling rather insulted when asked to swallow
some of the atrocious stories with which they would regale me.
Killing six lions before breakfast and shooting duck on a vlei
at five hundred yards with a rifle, the duck eventually sinking
from the weight of the lead, were but small feats for Mopipi's
trader.
The chief mainstay of this store was buying cattle and skins
from the natives in exchange for cash and goods ; the latter con-
sisted of Kafir " truck," such as blankets, beads, limbo (cotton
cloth), kriives, pots and pans, etc. The skins and cattle would be
sent down periodically to Sei'owefor sale. Native trading to-day,
like most other things in South Afi'iea, is no longer the ])!'(>li table
occupation it was some years back. In Livingstone's time Kalir
trading was a little gold mine ; to-day it is a precarious liviiig.
Competition is too keen, and the average native is too civilised
for the trader to inake big jirofits.
As there was but poor grazijig by Mopipi we sent the hoj'ses
264
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE
and oxen to a small native village a mile or two farther on, where
the grass was plentiful and richer, I decided here to make
Avholesalc changes amongst my waggon natives, as some of them
had been giving trouble continuously, first with one thing then
another. Particularly was this the case by the wells in the desert,
where the Damaras would quarrel with the Bechuanas, each
party refusing to assist the other in watering their span. The
Damaras Averc nearly always the aggressors. I sacked the
driver of one waggon ; he was hopelessly incompetent and had
been hired at a most ridiculous wage by the recruiter, who
himself knew as little about driving a span of oxen as did the
driver in question. In his place I hired a competent Makalaka
native at half the wage. I further dispensed with two other
loafing Damaras. For a time the remainder became a little more
tractable, but the foolishly lenient treatment they had received
formerly at the hands of Morgan caused great trouble. I never
had to deal with such a spoilt crowd of natives in all my life.
They would have been soon knocked into shape by a month or
two of hard work in the Rand mines.
From iMopipi there are two waggon roads to Rhakops, the
half-way stadt between Lake Ngami and Serowe : one across the
rivei-, along the north bank of the Botlctle, and the other round
the bend of the river on its south side. The latter route is twice
the distance, as the Botletle here makes a large bend. The
fullness of the river, however, prevented our fording it with our
w^aggons and live-stock ; so we were compelled to take the longer
road. After a couple of days at ^lopipi we bade farewell to
tlie cheerful, if not veracious, trader and trekked round the
bend of the Botletle. We passed by many small villages, each
ruled ])y a headman placed in authority there by Chief Kliama.
Three treks brought us to a small village in the Kedia district.
On our road we ran across a young python, about eight feet in
length, which the natives despatched with sticks and, to my
surprise, afterA\'ards ate.
The ox which had been overworked in the Kalahari was daily
bceoinijig weaker, notwithstanding that it was never inspanned.
265
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
The possibility tliat the animal might be infected with lung-
sickncss occurred to us ; so I decided to ride ahead with a
native to the police camp at Rhakops to report the fact of the
ox l:)eing sick. Lung-sickness — a form of ])]euro-pneumonia —
is one of the many deadly cattle diseases with wliich Africa has
to contend ; and in Eechuanaland the disease was then rife.
Having this in mind, we were a little anxious about our sick
ox. If our suspicions were justified there would be trouble
and delay ahead of us, for all our spans would have to be
quarantined.
Here again, but for the last time, I relied on my companion's
estimate of distances. He informed me that it was only a four
hours' ]'ide on horseback from the place where we were out-
spanned to the police camp at Rhakops. Relying on this
info]-mation, I saddled up at sunrise and calculated that noon
would see the native and myself near our destination's end.
I took neither food nor blankets with me, nor beyond a hasty
cup of coffee did I worry about any morning meal, as I wanted
to make the most of the cool part of the morning. To be brief,
I will say tliat I was in the saddle over fourteen hours and
covered fifty miles and more before I j-eached the stadt of
Rhakops. The ordinary distance was between tliirty to forty
miles and was greatly increased by the many detours necessary
on account of the river lacing in flood.
The country through which we rode was very bare and flat,
with small villages and cattle-posts dotted here and there. I
espied one or two herds of springbok, though always too far out
of I'angc to get in a shot, and tliere was ])ractieal]y no cover of
which to avail oneself to approach within range. Great stretches
of the country, onh' a little higher than the level of the river,
were Hooded and tlie water and tlie swampy ground proved
very tiriiig to the horses. In some ])arts tlie \\'ater readied our
saddle-girths. ^Ve off-saddled for a e()U])le of hours dui'ing the
heat of the day, Icnee-haltering our hoi'ses and allowing them to
graze, antl were fortunate in olitaining some calabash or sour
lailk from a eattle-post in the neighbourhood. This drink,
200
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE
besides being most sustaining, is also most refreslilng. Sunset
found us still some miles away from the stadt but fortunately
near to a cattle-post, whither we rode, deciding to camp there
for the night. My native, a Motawana, had no little difficulty
in making himself understood by the Bahurutsi natives in
charge of the cattle-post. They discovered, however, that we
wanted food. We bought a sheep and it was not long before one
was killed, skinned, and its liver frying on the embers of the fire.
I "was ravenously hungry, and soon but very little remained of
that sheep's liver, which I washed down with goat's milk.
After a smoke I lay down by the fire with the intention of sleep-
ing, but found it to be almost impossible owing to the swarms
of mosquitoes. My saddle also was not as comfortable a pillow
as it might have been, and without any blankets I was very
cold ; moreover, the mosquitoes, attracted by the flooded lands,
were numerous so I was not sorry when dawn broke.
After the horses had had a short graze we saddled up and
resumed our ride. I left instructions with the natives at the
post that the remainder of the sheep was to be handed to the
waggons ^vhen they should arrive, whereon the whiteman in
cliarge would pay them the sum of five shillings — the price I
had agreed on after much haggling overnight.
On resuming our ride we found the usual waggon route was
completely under water, and it was only after long detours and
much riding through heavy swamps that the trees near Rhakops
showed in sight. The veld in places along the river was full of
holes — veritable death-traps for horses. In fact, some parts of
the ground were so dangerous that we were compelled to lead
oui' hoi'ses. ,Most of the holes were made by the ant-bear, which
burrows for great distances. We also came on old game-pits,
which were used by the natives for catching game before the
advent of the rifle. These old pits, though now partly filled up,
are death-traps for the cantering horse, owing to the long grass
which more or less conceals them from the eye. They measure,
roughly, twelve feet by six feet, with a depth of twelve feet or
more. After tliey were dug by the nati^■es thc\' were artfully
2G7
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
covered witli sticks, leaves, and light soil, giving the surface the
appearance of solid ground. A crescent-shaped body of men
would then di'i ve the game with deafening and ear-splitting yells
towards the narrow outlet, where the game-pits had been dug.
The wi'etehed, panic-stricken animals — large-horned buck of
all descriptions — would fall struggling into these pits, and a
wholesale slaughter would ensue. It is not so many years ago
that this unsportsmanlike method of hunting was practised by
the natives in this region.
By noo]i we arrived at the police camp, where I met the
X.C.O. of the outpost. With usual veld hospitality I was
welcomed with a good meal, to which I did full justice. After-
wards the cheery corporal and I sat down to a long chat ; and
indeed I was ]iot at all sorry to stretch my legs mider a table
after so many hours in the saddle. The X.C.O., on hearing my
report about the sick ox, sent out one of his Basuto troopers, who,
after inspecting the animal, fortunately confirmed our opinion
— that the ox had sickened from overstrain. The animal was
dead by tlie time the trooper reached it.
Just before sundown the coj-poral and I strolled down to the
river, about a mile away from the camp. The scenery of the
Botletle here was really too lovely for words. I I'cmained for
minutes spellbound at the beautiful scene presented by the
river flowiiig by us. The sight of the luxuriant foliage that shaded
the ])anks of the fast-flowing waters, of the tall green reeds bend-
ing under the faint breeze that swept over them, of the deep
blending tints of gold in the shady trees in tlie .sun"s dying rays,
was inorc tlian welcome after the barj-en aiid inhospitai^le
stretches of dc:scrt through which we had been trekking for so
many days. The sun liad long set before my companion could drag
me a\va\' back to the camp, where our meal, he said, was getting
cold. On our way we skirted the village, which ^vas in ncai'ly every
respect similar to that of Serowe, only smaller. It is the second
stadt of im])ortanee, as well as size, in the Bamangwato icserve.
On the morning following my arrival, whilst engaged in the
exciting task of playing a game of ci'ib with the corporal, I
2GS
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE
received a note from Brown with the unwelcome news that he
had been compelled to outspan two or three miles away, owing to
the fact that many of the horses were very sick and two of them
already dead. This piece of information put a prompt stop
to the game of cribbage and caused me to saddle up and ride
off at once towards the waggons. I found Brown's information
was — this time — only too correct ! Seven of the horses were
purging distressingly ; and we had no colic mixture on the
waggons. We concocted a weird mixture out of linseed oil,
chlorodyne and painkiller. With this we drenched the sick
animals, in some cases with favourable results. To one horse
that was nearly dead and in great pain I gave two bottles of
chlorodyne. The horse died ; whether from the chlorodyne or
from the sickness I did not know ! On opening the bodies of the
dead animals it was easily seen that the alkaline water of
Chukutsa pan was responsible for their death, the intestines
being highly inflamed. Out of the four that died three had
thrown their foals in that stretch of thirst in which I had so
unfortunately delayed them. In the case of the others we
managed to help Nature in healing the acute inflammation in
the bowels by dint of drenches of oil and thin Boer meal. At
this juncture news reached me that my brother was within a
few miles of us with the other Avaggon and the remaining six
horses. We consequently sent a mounted runner off urging him
to hurry on and join us, as we hoped that he might have some
colic mixtm'e on his waggon. He arrived the same evening, having
been on trek only twenty days, since his waggon was lighter than
ours and his live-stock less. But he had no colic mixtuj-e ! The
fact that our expedition had thirty hoi'ses and not one bottle of
horse medicine reflected little credit on any of us. We managed
by continual drenches to save the other sick horses, and as ^ye
had to await the arrival of our leader, whose to-morrow was as
reliable as the Chilians' manana, we decided to find a good spot
near tlie river "where the grazing was better than that afforded
by our present outspan, in order to give the live-stock a chance
of picking up. AVe were now in lion veld ; but owing to our
269
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
proximity to a lai-ge native stadt we did not anticipate any
trouble from these marauders. However, when we had selected
tlie s])ot for our new camp, we drew up our waggons in the
form of a laager, enclosing the kraals of ovu- live-stock. Our
pai'ty now consisted of us three ^vhite men, with three waggons ;
the respective di'ivers, vooi-Ioo])e!'s and cattle-watchers ; four
horse-boys, and a cou])lc of cook-ljoys ; and our live-stock
numbered thi'ce span of oxen (fifty-four head) and twenty-five
horses.
We now enjoyed a lazy period whilst waiting for our erratic
leader, wlio was re])ortcd to be on his way to the Victoria Falls,
and passed our time in occasional gallo])s ovci- the flats to the
police cam]). Avhcre we would yarn and l^lay cai'ds with the
X.C.O. Now and thcii we went fishing (I never caught an\-thing),
and fishing generally meant lying lazily along the banks of the
I'ivcr gazing at the lovely scenery. We would also go out for
an occasional shoot ; we generally secured duck, which was
plentiful on the flooded lands alojig the- river bank. It was no
hard task to bag as many as fi\'e in one shot. The mosquitoes
wei'c becoming x'ci'y trouf)lesome at night, owing to the large
and daily increasing stretches of flooded lands close by,
and so we had moscpiito nets I'iggcd up I'ound our beds b}'
the fii-e.
This ])eriod (^f inactivity natui'all}- stai'ted trouble Avith our
Damaicis, Avho wanted constantly to A'isit the neighbouring stadt
t(j iiuhilge in Kafir Ixer '" drimks." Xeither my bi'other nor I
had a!)y intc-ntion of allowing them tc) do this : eoiisC'(|uently we
ai-ranged ^\■itll the ■jtoliee eoipoi'al t(^ fo]'l)id any of oni' Damai'as
to entc-r the \'illage. or an\' native thei'e to su])ply them Avith
li([uor. 'fliis ])i'o]iibi1ion I'aised great di^eoiitent. as we ex])ected ;
and we were daily treated to the usual story : Morgan allowed
tlieni io do this and allowed them to do that. It ^^'orried u-^ not
a jot. thong!) troubles and gmnnbling \veut ('n. lii'st (j\'er one
thijig and then another, tih one felt like taking a sjambf^k and
laying il w^ll aero-s llieij' backs. In a nati\x- protectoi'ate,
howewr, tlu uali\'e is the tO]j dog and launss it. A thrashing to
J/O
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE
an insolent nigger means a five-pound fine, which is hardly good
enough.
Whilst encamped near Rhako])s, the headman of the stadt
died naturally creating some little stir in the uneventful life
of the natives. The preparation of the coffin was a curious sight.
The stadt's coffin-makers obtained all the empty packing-cases
and odd pieces of wood they could beg or steal, and by dint of
much sawing and hammering a crude coffin was put together,
which caused the spectators great satisfaction and the under-
takers no little ])ride. The fact that the words " In transit to
Delagoa Bay — keep in a cool place " were printed in bold letters
on one side worried nobody in the least. He was buried at the
dead of night in his cattle kraal, according to native custom,
and his coffin was followed by a motley crowd of wives and slaves,
each of whom vied with the others in the expression of intense
grief by giving vent to the most diabolical noises. The grotesque
coffin, supported on poles, was carried to the kraal by eight
bearers ; Christian hynms in the Sechuana tongue were sung
regardless of time and key, and after the burial mounted
men were despatched to Chief Khama to announce the
death.
Days and weeks passed, but still no news of our eccentric
leader reached us, beyond some startling yarns which we could
not quite credit, although by this time we were prepared to
believe almost anything as regards his doings. As the N.C.O. had
to make a trip to Scrowc on Government bvisiness my brother
decided to accompany liim and ascertain the real position of
affairs. He left us on the 27th July, and we inspanned our waggons
and trekked a little fartlier up the river, where the grazing was
better, lirown and I made one or two trips over the flats after
springbok, l)ut we met with little success, foj-, although we
adopted the usual method of riding round and slowly encircling
the herd, the chance to get within range was small, since there
Avas no cover at all to help us. Once or twice under the cover of
our cattle we got within range and Brown and one of the natives
each bagged a buck, but J only scored misses. To judge distances
271
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
on these flats is no easy task and is only acquired by long
experience. I was reminded of the conversation in "Jock of
the Bushveld " :
" ' What'ud you put up for that stump ? '
" I looked hard and answered confidently : ' Two hundred I '
" ' Step it ! ' was the reply. I paced the distance ; it was
eighty-two yards.
" It was very bewildering ; but lie helped me out a bit with,
' Bush telescopes, sonny ! '
" ' You mean it magnifies them ? ' I asked in suiprise.
" ' Xo ! Magnifies the distance, like lookin' down an avenue !
Gun barr'l looks a mile long when you put yer eye to it ! Open
fiats bring 'em closer ; and 'cross water or a gully seems like you
kin put yer hand on 'em ! ' "
We used to take a ride over these flats in the cool of the after-
noon, if we were not wading up to our knees in the swamps after
the wary duck. We also used to take a morning stroll to the river
for a wash. The fear of crocodiles prevented us from getting a
swim, so we had to content ou/-selves with pouring pails of
water over our dusty bodies. The swarms of mosquitoes in the
evening were the only serious trouble and we started taking
nightly doses of quinine to ward off fever. It is rather peculiar
that one seeii^s <i'ar more susceptible to malaria when not on
trek. The attacks generally come during long outspans. I sup])0se
the exercise helps on trek. Snakes were very plentiful on these
flats, especially the mamba, one of the most deadly in Africa.
Its ])itc is fatal within a few hours and its rate of progression
is so speedy that at times only a fast horse can get clear of it
in pursuit !
Whilst camping here a waggon with a team of donlceys. owned
by a party of Dutchmen, arrived down from the I>ake, having
ti-ekked right through from Damarahmd. They told us tliat the
13otletIc was very full and that they had lost two donkeys while
fording the river near the Lake; in fact, they said, most of the
waggons were trekking right round, to avoid fording the
swollen river.
272
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE
Our food for the natives was fast giving out through this
almost interminable wait, so I was compelled to send one
waggon back to the store at Mopipi to obtain more grain, as
the store at Rhakops had none. The grazing again becoming
exhausted, we moved our camp still farther along the river,
this time near to a large cattle-post where there was also a more
plentiful supply of timber for our fires. Whilst trekking we
passed a small stadt — Khukwe Post — where Sebetwana, the
famous Basuto chief, crossed the Botletle some sixty years
back on one of his marauding expeditions. A mile or two beyond
this place we outspanned and made a fresh camp. The scenery
round was extremely pretty, the banks of the river here being
thicldy timbered on both sides. We had to exercise great caution
when taking the live-stock to the drift as the crocodiles were
very numerous. From a neighbouring village we obtained a
native "dug-out " canoe — a mokoro — and in it we spent many
lazy hours drifting with tlie stream or being paddled along by a
native.
It was now well in the month of August and this pleasant
but inactive life began to become a little tedious. Brown's
yarns were now all hackneyed ; our scanty stock of reading
matter was all exhausted ; and we could not quarrel, thanks to
the excellent disposition that my companion possessed. To
break a monotony which was unrelieved by any hunting, as
the game in this region had all been driven back for many miles,
I decided to travel along the river to Rhakops in a native canoe.
The scenery tempted me. Early one morning I set off in the
mokoro, in which I was just able to fix between its narrow sides
a deck-chair. I took with me a good supply of tobacco, a cold
guinea-fowl and some " roaster-cookies." My gun lay at my
feet. The native paddled at the stern, or the bow, whichever one
likes to call it, seeing both ends are practically the same. I was
rather anxious to get a shot at a crocodile, having heard so much
about the impenetrability of their skins. The swollen river made
it improbable that any unwieldy hippopotamus would upset
our fragile craft — a not very rare occurrence when the river is
•'i 273
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
low. I was unfortunate as regards tlie crocodiles ; however
quietly we drifted down stream along the shaded ])anks I was
never in time to get in a shot, a splash a few yards ahead of me
announcing that one had just plunged off the bank into the
river, being warned of our approach. Now and then I caught
sight of one lying on the matted reeds in the distance, but
always too far out of range.
The scenery all along the river was charming. The silently
moving waters were unruffled save for the plunge of a diver bird.
The slender reeds lightly swayed in the faint iMceze. The red
and white lilies, peeping out their pretty heads above the water,
recalled scenes of far-away Japan. And the thick-foliagcd trees,
in the shady boughs of wliich little bands of monkeys chattered
and gaily plumaged birds fluttered to and fro, added to the
beauty of the scene.
Gliding along the river, at times drifting with tlie fast-flowing
stream, at others paddling over the flooded lands adjoining, a
little before sunset we reached the stadt of Rhakops and found
it practically flooded out. Great stretches of wluit had been
grassy vekl when we first arrived were now one slieet of water.
I spent a couple of days in the stadt awaiting the an-ival of the
runners with the Government mail, who I expected would also
have some message from my brother. I was not disappointed,
for on the following day I received a line fi'om him announciiig
that it was I'umourcd that Morgan was just two oi- thi'ee treks
away from Lotlhakanc Well, where the note was })cnned. This
sounded liopcful, though I did not ])lace overmuch j'cliance on
it. I returned the next day in the mokoro, our journey taking us
considerably longer, as the native had to paddle against the
st'-cam ; so it was not till well after sunset that the camp was
reached. On our return ti'ip my native killed a large python
and also a lagavaan (a huge water-lizai'd), on both of which
he feasted when he arrived at the camp. The waggon that
we had des])atched for grain had already returned when I
came back ; so there remained nothing more to do but to
go on waiting! To l)reak the monotony I resumed shaving,
2/4
KH "'Ir .•^^CJswM.Xfe '■*'«<?'••-••:■
A N.\ 1 1\ i; ■• i)i\. -or
( 'k.!--! \i. I III', Ih > II I', n 1-. Ki\ l■;!^
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE
having up till then grown a beard of which I was becoming
quite proud, as it gave me a most venerable appearance (at
least I thought so !). However, only three days had elapsed
before the missing leader turned up in company with my
brother, having with them another waggon and a Scotch cart.
I learnt that, since I had been on trek, the Bechuanaland
Go^'crnment had issued regulations to the effect that no
natives or cattle could enter the Protectorate from Angola,
the territory in which we were going to recruit, owing to the
fear of introducing sleeping sickness. So far as I could see,
there was now not the slightest chance that the expedition
would meet with any success ; yet Morgan assumed that this
restriction on the part of the Government was no real obstacle.
I do not believe he gave the matter two moments' consecutive
tliought. I never could gather, nor do I know to this day, what
the recruiter had been doing whilst we had been on trek, beyond
spending money lavishly, making fabulous promises right and
left, and leaving behind shoals of unpaid bills, all of which
were stumbling-blocks for me when I returned from the Lake
some months afterwards.
We spent live more days at our camp — and what were five days
after Avaiting over five weeks ? — during which Morgan shortened
and welded a waggon tire on one of the waggons. I particularly
mention this fact for it was a most creditable perfoiinance
when on the veld. He had but a small portable forge and anvil
for the job, and some not over-skilful assistants. The recruiter
was indeed a most resourceful fellow, and if he had only
coupled his many talents with a little stability he would
have been a success in nearly anything he undertook. As it
was, he would walk with liis head in the skies planning most
weird and expansive schemes, whilst his feet were in the
nmd tripping over the stones of unconsidered but essential
details.
At last we started moving ! Our caravan of four waggons and
two small carts inspanned and commenced trekking on the after-
noon ol the 25th August. The leadership naturally devolved on
^75
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Morgan ; and, so far as I was concerned, I niost willingly lianded
over the reins of responsibility and the control of the spoilt and
turbulent crowd of natives which had been mine for so many
weeks. The natives were dissatisfied with all the delay, with
the rations, and more particularly with the curtailment of their
Kafir beer orgies ; so I was quite contented to play second,
third or fourth fiddle for some time to come.
A long trek brought us to Rasebaki's stadt, one of the large
villages on the river. Rasebaki himself was a Makalaka native
and controlled a large number of bushmen from the Heina veld,
which lies south of the river — a waterless desert except in the
rainy season. Here he grazed many herds of cattle. By the
stadt, when we arrived, were two waggons outspanned. With
the two Dutchmen who aecom]3anicd the waggons were a couple
of Germans, both practically penniless, who had come from
Damaraland. They told us dismal talcs of the conditions pre-
vailing in that territory. Germany, it seems, beyond making
very extensive graveyaixl there, has not much to show for the
many millions of marks frittered away. Japan in Korea, and
Germany in Damaraland, are the best examples furnished us
to-day of how not to colonise !
Leaving this village we had to tick over a long waterless
sand-belt, away from tlie course of the rive]'. We trekked all
night and during the l3est part of the following day, only oiit-
spanniiig for short intervals to rest the cattle. We I'cached the
river again by sundown, outs])anning at ^lenoakwena di'ift (the
drift of the Crocodile's teeth). The route through which we had
trekked had been cut by a Dutch transport-rider in oi'der to save
the many extra miles that had to l)e covered wlien kee])iiig
to the course of the river. Custom calls it Hcndi'ik's Road,
from the name of the transport-rider in question — a good, if
rather grubby, old fellow.
Wq were now in lion veld and natives daily told us stones
about the numerous lions seen in the disti'ict. As a rule it is a
fairl\' safe ])lan to believe exactly iiolliing a native tells you. as
the iiilornialion is ho})ek>sly iuaeeuiale. Though wu Look little
27O
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE
1)00(1 of these reports about lions, yet the sight of fresh lion spoor
was indisputable evidence of their presence. As we had so miicli
live-stock with us, especially hoi'scs, which after donkeys are the
most toothsome meal for a lion, we decided to make no night
treks but to laager our cattle and horses immediately after
sundown. With four waggons, this was an easy task, as we
placed each at right angles to the other, thus forming a square ;
picketing the horses in the centre, our hres were kindled on the
outside of the waggons with their spans of oxen attached. The
size of our party, further, was a source of protection to us, for
lions as a rule do not look for trouble ; and they scent that from
a big party. We would inspan before sunrise and with the
horses going on ahead would start our morning trek, out-
spanning when the sun became too warm.
Four long treks brought us to Magoodi drift. We had to do
much extra trekking in this district, owing to the flooded lands
along the river, which necessitated our cutting through bush over
heavy sand-belts ; the old waggon I'oad was completely under
water. At one drift we were compelled to ford a part of the river,
as the bush was too thick and the trees too big to cut a way
through. It was a typical African veld scene ! The long teams
of strugglijig oxen hauling the heavily laden waggons were nearly
swept off their feet by the fast-flowing river ; the drivers waded
alongside their spans, cracking their long whips, shouting and
yelling. The wide expanse of river was on one side and the dark
banks of timber and bush on the other ; and over all the cloud-
less sky with tlie rising sun shining down. We had to use double
spans to bring three of the waggons through !
Beyond ]\Iagoodi drift the proximity of lions was unpleasantly
impressed on us. by our fmding the spoor of two on the track of
our iiorscs. We outspanned that night very soon after sunset,
as there was practically no twilight, and took all the precautions
possible to guard our live-stock. We lit big fires, which each of
us faithfully relied on the other to replenish when necessary.
I can just remember my sleepy eyes in the early hours of the
morning lighting on a few glowing embers — all that was left of
277
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
the big fires ! In the night the distant roaring of lions reached our
ears, and the restless movements of the horses told us that they
too were aware of the proximity of their natural enemy. We con-
gratulated ourselves that they were at any rate keeping at a
respectful distance. Dawn broke witliout any attack, but the
sight in the morning of fresh lion spoor not fifty yards away
from one of the spans of oxen made us all look rather blankly
at one another. We secretly thanked our lucky stars that the
lions had considered discretion the better part of valour ! The
greatest risk to us, apart from the possible loss of some of our
oxen or horses, would have been from the shower of bullets that
would have assailed the visitors from our panic-stricken natives.
Not a few hunters, when following up a lion in company with
natives, have come very near death by the wild and mad firing
that ensued when the lion suddenly turned on his pursuers. It
is no unusual thing for the native to turn, run like a liare
and, incidentally, fii'c off his gun over liis sliouldcr, backwards,
trusting to luck that lie might hit the lion, never worrying about
the fact that it is an equal chance that he may hit the hunter.
Trekking on, we reached Kubu (Hippo') drift, outspanning
there for the night. This drift fully lived up to its name ; for all
night we were treated to a series of grunts from the hippo in the
river. We were only a hundred yards or so from the drift, and what
with the grunts and the crashing in the reeds and bushes near by
I was not surprised that I woke up in the middle of the night
and mistook a harmless-looking ox a yard oi- two away for one
of these unwieldy animals. However, bytlictimcl was sufficiently
awake to think of reaching for my gun I realised that it was only
my imagination at work ! We reached ]Makalamabedi stadt,
where one solitai'y white man was endeavouring to make a
fortune. On nearing his store we passed by a large tree
blazed with an f indicating the western boundary of Khama's
territory. After outs])anning, we cheered u]) tlie trader with
a game of bridge and broached our remaining ease of medical
comforts for a bottle of dop (Ca])e brandy).
We rested our stock for a couple of days, taking this oppor-
278
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOTLETLE
tunity of washing the horses with a " dip " to rid them of ticks
which were worrying them. One of our oxen here came to grief
by f alHng into a hole. The ox to all intents and purposes appeared
ujiinjured, but we could not get it to move. We tried all sorts
of devices, but with no effect. We even went to the length of
kindling a small fire under its body — a useful, if rather cruel,
resource with a stubborn ox— but this also had no effect, beyond
making us feel like a lot of butchers. We then tried to haul it
to its feet by means of a block and tackle — and succeeded !
Of no avail ; its stubbornness beat us. There is nothing in this
world quite so stubborn as an obstinate ox. Eventually we had
to shoot it — and eat it !
On the evening of the following day, the 6th — we were now
in the month of September — we trekked from Makalamabedi
into Ngamiland. We were now in Chief Mathibe's territorv.
279
CHAPTER VIII
TREKKING THROUGH NGAMILAND TO THE LAKE
TWO days of trekking from Makalamabcdi along tlie river,
passing on the way a small village by INIamoshweu drift,
brought us to the stadt of Piet Scbego, who owned a
Government grant of land. Piet Sebego and his son were excellent
game shots, and the old man even to-day outrivals many a good
hunter, great accuracy in judgment of long distances being his
special forte.
At all these villages along the river we were able to barter for
as much milk as we wanted ; fo'- a calabash full we would give,
say, a cup of coffee beans, or sugar, or, in the case where the
village was near a store, cash — ^sixpcnce or ninepencc gcnci'ally
meeting the case. On these occasions iMoigan, witli a generosity
often characteristic of men not using their own money, would
overpay the natives, foolishly thinking thereby to get a good
name amongst them, apparently not I'calising that he was o]ily
rcirarded as a fool for his conduct. We others used at times
to tell him rather poiiitedly what we thought of it ; but one
soon got tried of protesting, as it was so useless. We let him go
on his own sweet way — buying an ox o]ie day for hve ]:)0urds and
selling it a week afterwards for tJiree pounds. This was the
principle on which he had worked from tlic beginning.
In regard to handling natives on the veld there was none of
us, unless it was my brotlier, wlio had staiied the right way.
Moi-gan's mctliods I have already deseiilxcL He could never see
that natives as ])ros]:)cetive recruits for tlie mines and natives
servants on the veld need a]>sohite]y different tfcatment.
The trans])()rt-rider, 13ro\vn, was treated by the natives almost
as one of themselves ; consequently he luid but little authority
2^0
TREKKING NGAMILAND TO THE LAKE
ovcrthcni. Born and bred in the country, he was more at liomo
with the natives than with white men and did not attempt to
maintain the aloofness that is essential. To be familiar with any
of your natives is fatal ! As for myself, I had been used to the
mines, where the control of the native is very strict ; further,
I was too often inclined to be hot-headed and arbitrary in my
dealings with them on the veld, and this tendency of mine
naturally appeared more pronounced in contrast with the
wcalaiess that so characterised the methods of Morgan. My
brotlier's quiet tactics were the wisest. His experience of life
in the colony had taught him not to expect a white man's
standard from a native ; he knew that on the veld one must
pass over many little things, without, however, giving the native
the idea that you are not ready to enforce your authority when
necessaiy.
After leaving Piet Sebego's stadt, we were compelled to make
long detours to avoid the floods, as the usual waggon route along
the side of the river was impassable. There was much big game
in this region. In one day I have seen spoor of hippo by the river,
of lion on tlie track of zebra, of kudu and other big buck, not
to mention that of smaller game such as duiker and bushbuck.
-Most of tlie big game is strictly preserved ; none can be shot
without s]jccial permit. This, of course, only applies to white
men, the natives being permitted to shoot what game they like,
with one or two exceptions. It was a rather tantalising position.
Plenty of game and plenty of guns, yet unable to associate the
one with the other ! An African protectorate is a poor place
for anyone but the native.
Trekking on slowly, two treks a day, we reached the junction
of the Thamalakan with the Botletle. By the river here were
many cattle-posts : the natives in charge were nearly all Damaras
— refugees from German South- West Africa. The Damara are
essentially a cattle ])eople and handle oxen better than the
Eeciiuana do. From all these posts we obtained plenty of milk,
both fresh and " calabash " variety. The " calabash " mjlk is
prepared by the Damara in a different way from that of the
281
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Bechuana, Damara " calabash " milk {omaire) is obtained by
pouring fresh milk daily into the calabash, or dried pumpkin,
kept for the purpose, the water being retained ; the Bechuana,
however, continually drain the water off. The former, therefore,
is a kind of victuals and drink, whilst the latter's preparation is
purely a food ; both are extremeh' acid and sour. Along the river
banks in this region we remarked a fibre-yielding plant growing
abundantly ; it was a species of sansevicra, from which the
bow-string hemp is obtained. The natives weave chairs, mats
and fishing nets from it. Many large Baobab trees grew along the
banks of the river here, the girth of some of them exceeding sixty
feet. They are more popularly known as the Cream of Tartar
tree, from the fruit of which the medicine is obtained. One tree
by the waggon road is, owing to its size, quite a recognised
landmark on the road to the Lake.
A trek from tliis tree brought us to one of the largest villages
on this part of the river — -Ramonaisa stadt (pronounced with a
series of clicks that defies repetition, as well as imitation). We
outspanncd by this stadt for the night. We were now very close to
Totin, the fording-place for waggons about to cross the Botletle.
Numerous reports had reached us that the river here was too
full to ford, and that, even if one could get the waggons across in
safety, there were no boats to convey goods to tlie opposite bank.
An ingenious idea then occurred to Morgan, namely, to con-
struct a l)oat out of the tent of one of the waggons by covering it
with canvas soaked in oil. It was an ingenious and audacious
idea, and proved most successful. I have never heard of it being
employed on the veld before in such circumstances. It was only
the question of a boat that worried us, as we had quite decided
to disregard all the reports that the river was too full to ford.
It meant a good week and more of trekking round the south side
of the Lake Ngami, if we did not cross tlie Botletle at Totin.
Our time when outspanned we now employed in sewing canvas,
of which we had lortunately a considerable quantity.
The night before we reached Totin the recruiter held an
indaba with the natives in connection with his scheme for recruit-
2S2
f.-i
A .-,R
-.1 [I ,l-:i': I)\\1\KA-. i\ X<,A.MILA\|)
TREKKING NGAMILAND TO THE LAKE
ing refugee Hereros. The idea he was explaining was that he
intended to despatch messengers to German Ovamboland to
bring away any Damaras wlio wislied to Join their chief in
the TransvaaL Whilst ai-guing with some refractory headman
(a murderer with a stiff price on his head !) he assumed the role
of a philanthropist and pointed out to the native what a kind
man he was to spend all his money and go to such trouble to
bring their oppressed countrymen to the Transvaal. The wily
old Damara replied, through our interpreter, Philip, words to
this effect : " Chuck it, baas, why waste your money and your
kind heart on us ungrateful people ? " We nearly exploded at
this retort ; even Morgan seemed a little disconcerted, though
not for long. The Damara is a most intelligent native. This old
scoundrel knew full well that every native we recruited meant
a fiver or so in our pockets. The recruiter used to lie glibly to
them and they in turn to him, each pretending to believe what
the other said. It was not unusual for our headboy, Philip, to
come to one of us afterwards and say : " Is this true, baas, that so
and so ? " We would either have to plead ignorance or
unblushingly confirm one of the recruiter's weird and out-
rageous statements. Recruiting natives in Africa is certainly not
the noblest of professions ! After our indaha was finished some of
the Damaras, now more cheerful at the prospect of soon reaching
the Lake and seeing their friends again, began to sing hymns,
taught them in their young days by the German missionaries
before they were expelled from their homes by the German
soldiers. The irony of it ! Taught the love of God by the German
missionary, to be hunted down like rats by the German soldiers !
The Damara sings in perfect harmony ; each takes his part
most accurately. The Damara is indeed the most musical native
in South Africa, as musical as the Bcchuana is unmusical. In
the quiet night air their rendering of some of the old hyimi tunes
was very sweet, recalling to one days at school on a Sunday
evening when one's greatest ambition was to win the quarter-
mile.
Early in the morning of the 15th we outspanned near the store
283
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
at Totiii. We spent our first day in preparing the boat for its
launch. We took off the tent from the waggon, and along the
bottom, inside, we fastened a heavy beam of wood securing
it firmly in its place with reims (strips of hide). This was the
keel. Round the sides, near the top, we fastened stout poles.
These were the bulwarks. The framework of the tent had a little
canvas left on it, tliough ]-ather torn ; over this we wrapped our
waterproof sail, lashing it firmly with wetted reims. As a further
precaiition we smeared tlie lower part — the part that would
always be in the water — with lard, and treated the seams in the
sail in like fashion.
We launclied our novel craft on the following morning and it
floated as ])uoyantly as a cork. Its " trials " were most successful.
The river here was split into two channels with a narrow strip
of land between. We launched the boat at the narrowest part
of the stream, wliich was about seventy feet or so in width ;
and by dint of vigorously paddling with poles, and much vigorous
language also, we managed to effect communication with the
opposite Ijank. Having succeeded in doing this, we fastened
lines to the bow and stern of the boat, by which means we pulled
the ferry from one side of the river to the other. The following
diagram may give tlie reader an idea of the appearance and
construction of our hastily improvised ferry-boat.
^^
We had now a ])ig task in front of us — ^unloadino; the waffffons,
stowing tjic goods into the boat, and off-loading the boat on the
opposite side. The same work had then to be done over again in
order to reacli tJie farther side of the river. Loading the heavy
284
TREKKING NGAMILAND TO THE LAKE
and cumbrous packing-cases into this fragile craft was a job that
demanded the greatest care, as one heavy ease allowed to fall
would have smashed the framework to pieces. None of the natives
would trust their lives in the boat till they saw us white men
make several trips across and return in safety. The idea of a boat
made of anything but wood, floating, was too startling for them.
Our boat held as much as one thousand five hundred pounds in
weight, apart from one or two persons in it as well. Its staunch-
ness was remarkable ; it did not leak an inch in a day. Soon
news got about of the marvellous boat made of canvas that
floated, and we used daily to have numerous spectators, all sorts
of ragged and black humanity, gazing with open mouths at its
passage l^etween tlie banks.
After the hrst stream had been negotiated, we started the task
of transferring the goods across the second one. When this was
accomplished, and the oxen had been made to swim across,
we had to get our waggons over. With the first waggon avc were
unfortunate. The method we employed was to fasten a line to the
bugle of the disselhoom{i.e. to the end of the waggon-shaft), the
line being taken over in the boat to the opposite bank. The waggon
was then pushed down the sloping banks ; when in the water it
was pulled by the oxen across and up the other side. At our first
attempt we unfortunately omitted to make the upper part of
the waggon fast to the body — it is usually only connected by a
pin^ — the result being that the latter only reached the opposite
bank, tlie other part being left submerged. The not ovci'-pleasant
task of diving into the stream to fasten a line to the sunken
part of the waggon fell on mc, as I happened to be the unfor-
tunate individual in the boat. The river was thickly entangled
with reeds, and also full of crocodiles. But the job had to be
done, and was done.
The river was very deep — well over fifty feet in midstream.
It was a curious sight, and also a rather anxious one, when the
waggon completely disappeared from view. We all heaved a sigh
of relief — particularly myself, for I was still in the boat— Avhen
the ^vhite tent appeared above the surface.
285
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Excepting the one mishap, we transferred safely all the
waggons across both streams, our first experience having taught
us wisdom. We floated the two Cape carts over. In doing this we
adopted the simple plan of lashing to the axles of the vehicles
empty water-barrels, which fully answered the purpose of keep-
ing them afloat. After this work was finished we had to get the
mob of horses across ; this was the hardest task of all ! Our
first attempt resulted in the horses stampeding and getting
jammed in the reedy swamp ; to release them from this we had
to wade in up to our waists to turn them and drive them back
to the bank whence they had come. Another attempt was
equally unsuccessful. Finally, by tying one of our hunting
horses behind our boat and letting him swim in its wake tlie
others were ijiduced to follow ; and all crossed in safety.
In five days our waggons were all reloaded, our boat
dismantled, and we were ready to resume our trek on to
Lake Ngami.
All our spans of oxen had to be left here in quarantine,
fresh spans having been sent out to us by a trader in the
stadt at Tsau. It was arranged that Morgan and my brother
should ride ahead in order to make preparations for our camp.
Brown and I being left behind to bring on the waggons and
horses,
Part of the waggon road lay along the edge of the Lake, which
is really no lake at all but a mass of swampy reeds. It was indeed
a most disappointing sight. Wliat was in Livingstone's time ^
a fine-looki]ig sheet of water, twenty miles long and ten miles
wide, on wliich could be heard the thunder of the breaking
waves, is now a vast reedy swamp -with a treacherous bottom
impassable for man or beast. In most years much of the Lake is
on hrc, gi'cot stretches of reeds smouldering for months. Lake
Ngami is said to fill, roughly, every ten years. In 1899 it was re-
ported to be full, as it was during our visit. To call itfull, however,
is quite a mistake, as it is never that to-day and never will be
again, for its former inlet at the north-western extremity is now
M,akc Xgaini was discovered by Livingstone and Oswell iu 1849.
266
M AK.! i;a \\'( '.mi;n
TREKKING NGAMILAND TO THE LAKE
quite silted up. When the Okavango is exceptionally full, owing
to heavy rains up north, the Lake receives a small extra supply
of water from the swamps which lie on its northern bank ; in
normal times it receives little or no water. In Livingstone's day
it received a direct stream from the River Okavango and its
tributaries ; but to-day, not only is its inlet silted up, but the
course of the greater part of the water of the Okavango has also
been diverted by the silt.
After three days' trekking we reached the stadt of Tsau. The
veld was very similar to that through which we had been
trekking before reaching Totin and much of the land was
flooded.
I rode in just before sundown and found the forerunners of our
party in one of the stores busily playing bridge whilst awaiting
our arrival. Wc outspanned our waggons close to the stadt for
that night. It was the evening of the 26th of September. Brown
and I had been on trek, or at least on the veld, for sixteen
weeks ; so neither of us M'cre at all sorry for a short change.
Tsau is the Serowc of Ngamiland, being the capital and the
largest stadt of the territory. It is situated on one of the small
clianncis of the Okavango, some thirty miles to the north-west
of the lake.
The ruling tribe of Ngamiland are the Batawana, an offshoot
of the Bamangwato (Khama's people), though the real owners
and the most numerous tribe of natives are the jMakuba, who
are essentially a river people.
The Batawana are only a small tribe, numbering some fifteen
hundred people in all. They are rich and prosperous, well armed
and own excellent horses. The avci-age Batawana is, however,
of poor physique and is effeminate in comparison with his
Vassal, the IMakuba. The latter is nothing more than a slave,
as he does all the household and agricultural work for his owner,
receiving in return only his keep and perhaps a small payment
in kind. The Makuba, though of sturdy physique, has little
heart.
Ngamiland is a large territory. It extends from Damaraland,
287
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
on its western boundary, to jMakalamabedi on the east ; from the
Cliobc and tlie strip of German tcrritoi-y on the north to, roughly,
latitude 23° south.
The territory is nominally ruled by Chief ^Mathibe, who is a
youth of rather an obnoxious t\qoc. He was only recently made
chief, as his throne had been usurped by one Sekgoma, who
was, however, deposed by the British Government.
Stationed at Tsau is a resident magistrate, who more or less
pulls the strings, the young chief possessing in reality but little
power. ]\Iuch of the successful administration of native terri-
tories depends on the type of man who represents the British
Government. Ngamiland is fortunate in this respect, for it
possesses a very capable magistrate in ]Mr A. G. Stigand, who
has able control of the affairs of the country as well as con-
siderable influence with the natives.
I never realised quite so much as when in this part of Africa
the tactful and peaceful methods employed by the British in
their colonisation of lai-ge native territories. It is in striking
contrast to the blundering military methods adopted by the
Germans in the adjoining colony of Damaraland. Since 1885
Beehuanaland has been a protectorate of Great Britain. Dui-ing
tliat period of a qiuirtcr of a century there has been practically
no bloodshed in the whole territory. The many native tri]>es
have lived in harmony one with another, and all in hainiony
with their protectors. The country has prospered yearly ; iind,
though the power held Ijy tlie native is slowly but almost
imperceptibly passing away from his Iiands into tliose of the
virtual I'ulers of the country, when the time comes for tlie
Union Goveiiiment of Soutli Africa to absoil) the Protectorate
there need be no fear of auy disturbances. We siiall not — to quote
the words of the Ja]ianesc (iovei-nor-General of Korc^a befoi-c
the Aimexation — ■'' naturally anticipate more or less serious
disturbances."
The following statistics speak for themselves : —
The ])oliee force of the Beehuanaland Protectorate consists
of 180 men all told. Of this numix'r 13G ai'c natives, the remaiii-
288
TREKKING XGAMILAND TO THE LAKE
ing few being Britishers. The annual cost in 1909-1910 was only
£37,832.
When it is remembered that the lands of the Protectorate
aggregate ovei' 275,000 square miles, and support a population
of over 125,000 natives, all more or less half civilised, it speaks
higlily for the pacific quality of British rule and colonisation.
Cilance for a moment at the adjoining colony of Damaraland.
Up to the middle of the year 1905 over £12,500,000 had been
expended on the colonisation of that territory, practically every
penny oir the pacification of the natives, which has resulted
chielly in their extermination and expulsion from the country.
There must Ijc in Damaraland more hundreds of troopers than
there are single ones in Bechuanalaiid. Consequently since 1884
peace has never reigned in that territory.
Thousands of the natives have been shot down and such
a steady exodus of Hereros has been going on during the last
few years that the country is becoming almost denuded of its
labour. If there are not already more Hereros outside Damara-
huid than within its boidcrs there soon will be !
The reason of this is obvious. Germany started ruling the
country by putting on the natives ten times the pressure than
is even to-day put on the Bechuana, after twenty-seven years'
rule. Whilst I was at the Lake and on trek I met many Germans
juigrating from their colony into British territoi-y, and not one
of tliem had a good word to say for their own colony— Damara-
land. And tliis is the example that Japan tliinks (it to copy !
Cannot these n.ations learn anythijig froin Cromwell's bloody
victories in Ireland ?
Poi'tuguese colonising methods are but little better. The only
A\eapon that is in use is a regiment of soldiers ; never tact, or
an appeal to the native to develop himself — always tlie same
appeal to the devil tliat is in him. ^Yllere the English erect: a
fe\v thatched huts and station one wliite man and a couple of
native troopers, the German and the Portuguese eieet foits
and station regiments — a distinct declaration of war ! ^Military
oceupalion of a eounlry is not colonisa.tion, as so many militaiy
1 2lS9
A AVANDEllER'S TRAIL
administiators seem to think. As in the case of Korea, I do not
deny the possible successful exploitation of some of the resources
of the countiy. It is against the spirit of the colonisation that I
protest.
I wonder if the Germans in Germany know that a track of
bones stretches from the copper inines of Otavu through the
waterless deserts to Lake Ngami, the bones of those who
preferred death in a desert to life in their own country under
German rule. That is what militarism has done for Damai-a-
land !
Another f i-uitless period of waiting ensued after our arrival
in the stadt of Tsau. The Bechuanaland Government's restric-
tion regarding the entry of natives and cattle from Angola
practically quashed the whole scheme in everybody's eyes
except those of the recruitei-. He propounded some weird and
remarkable schemes. They stretched from Wallisch Bay to the
Victoria Falls. A trek of a thousand miles was to him a detail
quite unworthy of any serious considej-ation. As is the usual
case with such men, he was never at a loss for an answer. If
suddenly asked by ore of us as to whejc the grain to feed the
party on this thousand-mile trek was to come fi'om he would
]cply glibly and readily : '' Ah, that's all right ; I have arranged
that ; don't you fellows worry ! " As a juatter of fact he had
never thought of the mattei' bef ojc. One day it would be arranged
that I sliould trek with a waggon into Barotselaiid ; my brother
into the Congo ; whilst he would join us, or one of us, via Tim-
buctoo ! He would have forgotten all about the scheme next
day. Thus it went on, while all the time our natives were eating
tluir ]ic;uls off in idleness, their ridiculous wages mounting
steiulily up. As su})})lics wcic all stop]icd from Johannesburg
every now and tlien a hve-pound ox would have to be sold for
three ]X)unds ea^h to ])ay them. Such a small delail as tlie salary
of the Vvlule men of tlu- ])arty was too trivial for our leadei' to
consider. In Tsau, as also in most ]:)lace^. Ave were regai'ded
as ;i ]iiiilanUn()pie exjX'diLion lilted out to hij'c fool-niggers as
ex}nTt drivcis on double wages, io buy horses and ^vateh
290
\ ■'<4'
V,,* *f >■•-■' • 'J ■"
^
1 f '■:■'■
^.
■ ',- ■
't r '» ■' -
-^^Cif
-•■■■. *•
',*»■'■■•
TREKKING NGAMILAND TO THE LAKE
them die. Our actions, in their collective aspect at least,
really deserved no better verdict !
However, after ten days of inactivity, or of laying plans, which
chiefly consisted of sitting on storekeepers' counters playing
patience and swallowing the yarns of every Ananias in the
stadt, my brother and I were detailed off to trek north along the
Okavango to Portuguese territory. ]\ly brother assured me he
had only a hazy idea of what he was to do. Being heartily tired
of the fruitless and constant confabs, we were only too glad to
get away on the veld once again.
We trekked out of the stadt on the evening of the 7th October.
After trekking for two hours the driver skilfully smashed the
disselhoom of the waggon by driving the hind wheel into a deep
rut. We thereon outspanned, ordered the natives to make a
new shaft, and started to eat our supper quite at peace with the
world. It might be interesting for the reader to compare our
st;u't here with that made by my brother and myself from
Palap^'c. It was similar in one way, but not in another.
Experience is a good if hard teacher.
291
CHAPTER IX
ALOXG TJIE OKAVAXGO AND RETURN TO THE LAKE
THE rainy season had now set in and tliunderstojins
were the order of tlie day. We continued sleeping in
the o])cn, thougli we generally took the precaution of
rigging u]) a canvas awning over our beds beside the waggon.
When the waggon was repaired we resumed the northern trek.
The country here is ratlier fiat and sparsely covered with tiecs.
Numerous watei'less sand-belts with the inevitable mimosa
thorn-bush lie along the swamps of the Okavango ajid stretch for
miles towards the borders of Damaraland. Faither north, the
counti-y is more thickly wooded and has richer vegetation.
Some of the scenery is most alluring. The gi'ass in ])ln.ces is
exce})tionally rich and green and affords excellent grazing for
stock.
We had receivcKl numerous warnings before leaving Tsau as
to the numljer and size of tlie lions that infested this ])art of
Ngamiland. Had ■we believed these, we sliould iuue ex})eeted lo
meet at least one lion every half-houi'. That lioiv> Avere fiiii-ly
numci-ous in tliis ])a]'t was, however, evident from mucli
fresh spooi' noticeable every day. As we liad with lis no
horses we did not take any special precautions, trusting to
luck tliat no hun would take it into his head to sam])le our
oxen.
With the rains had cojue the mosquitoes and trt:kki]ig now
was not hah' so enjoyable as when under cloudless skies in the
dry season.
Al'ler b(;iug on trcls I'or ihi'ee days our eccentric leader caught
Us u]j in the C'a])e cail. 11<' had a})])areiitly changed his ])lans
again ; but nothing sui})!ised us much Jiow. His conqjany,
292
ALOXC OKAVAXGO AND EETI^RN TO LAKE
llioiio-]). was always weloomr on t1io veld, for ]k' wns siif']i an
cni orf aiuing fellow.
After a Aveek's slow trekking- avc I'eaelied Kumbe, a small
shult on one of the swamp ontlets of the Okavango. Knrnbc
]>ossesses one store, as it is the eentre of the grain disti-iet for
Lake Xgami. chiefly for mealies and Kafir corn.
Another wait took place here. Further plans were concocted.
The outcome was that my brother was to trek on to Andai'a, a
])Iace just on the border of Portuguese teri'itory, to obtain from
the Portuguese fort there permission to take one or two guns
into their territoiy. It was a good fortnight's trek for a heavy
Avaggon. Ikfore reaching Portuguese country a narrow strip
of German land has to be crossed. It was arranged that my
brother should wait at Andara for the recruiter, whilst in the
jneantime I was to retui-n to the Lake, and, when a number of
na,ti^'es were recruited by the sanguine ^lorgan, I was to take
them down to tlie Transvaal. This developnicnt was expected
Avithin a moiith !
A couple of tradei's nnd one of the mounted police corporals
on duty in this region joined us at Kurube, so we were quite a
big pai'ty. We went out foi- several shoots and bagged enough
game to kce]) us well sup]ilied with venison. Very frequently
\\hcn on the veld I used a small Mauser pistol (7mm. -300),
t!ie ense of which can be used as a stock converting the pistol
into a small rifle. On one of these occasions I dropped a large
I'iet-buek I'am at eighty yards and it was really extraordinary
to see tlie astonj'sliment of the natives who could not realise
tlie Icilling power of that little I'ifle. I found a Mauser pistol a
most useful weapon on the veld, particularh- when on horse-
back.
U]) in tliis I'cgion I came across a vei-y peculiar tree and one
I never reenll having seen elsewhere. It was popularly known
in x]]c eoimt''y n,s the sausage tree, on account of its quaint
s.-ni^age-shaped fruit. Its 1)otanical name. I was told, is kigelia
pinnata. It has handsome claret-coloured flowers. The quaint
f mit grows to a large size and increases in weight to as much as
293
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
eight pounds ; in fact, cases are not imlcnown wlien the fall of
this f niit on a native's Iiead lias resulted fatally.
Though there was plenty of timber up here, there was none
of any real value ; tliis can be said of almost all Bcchuanaland.
One or two trees of a rubber-bearing species were noticeable,
though the rubber produced was of poor quality. Some of the
veld round Kurube had a inost pleasant odour after rain, and
a walk through the bush in the cool of the afternoon was most
enjoyable, ^Many ant-hills of weird shape and design were in
evidence ; fig-trees, also, with their usual habitues — troops of
monkeys — were mnncrous, and birds and game of all descrip-
tions abounded ; while fish was plentiful in the river. The trader
was the solitary occupant of the place. He was an ardeiit
follower of Izaak Walton and many trophies in the shape of
dried heads of tiger-fish lined the walls of his hut. These tiger-
fish require a lot of skill to land, owing to their successive leaps
into the air after taking the hook.
A big troop of elephants frequented this district, visiting the
vieis near the river to drink : their home was in a range of kopjes
far away to the westward. One day these elephants provided me
with a little excitement, or at least a little fresh experience. I
was out looking for something to shoot when I caught sight of
fresh elephant spoor, and, being anxious to obtain a glimpse of
this troop, I decided to follow up their track. The question of
shooting them, had 1 with mc a gun of large enough bore, was
not to be considered, as elephant is royal ganre. To trace their
course in the thick bush was no difficult task, as it consisted of
a wide path through the veld, broken saplings and trampled
bush littering the ground. Recent droppings informed me that
it was not so long since the troop had passed. After tramping
a few miles I came on to one of their drinking pools, the thick
grass whicli grew around the ])an being flattened to the ground
under the heavy feet of the elephants. Oil all sides in tlie mud
the large foot]')rints of the animals wei'C visible. I had been so
absoi'bed in following up the elephants that I had not noticed
it was getting late, and so I had finally to give u}) the idea of
294
ALONG OKAVANGO AND RETURN TO LAKE
reaching the troop and started to return to tlie camp. As not a
landmark of any description was in sight — only a sea of thick
busli and trees — I decided to retrace my spoor, as I knew I had
covered quite a long distance. This task was not easy, as the
soft and yielding sandy soil is not good gi'ound to retain a clear
footprint. After a short while I became so confused that I gave
up the idea of retracing my steps and struck out boldly through
the bush. I had an instinctive idea where the camp lay, but
nothing more, as there was neither sun nor wind to give me any
assistance. For about an hour I kept steadily on without per-
ceiving any sign of the waggon road which I had to cross before
I reached our outspan. When I had covered a few miles I began
to feel just a sliade of doubt as to my direction. This feeling grew,
when after a]iot]ier long trudge no sign of the road was forth-
coming. I climbed a large ant-hill and looked round from the top.
Only a sea of trees and bush met my eyes on all sides, exactly
similar to the veld through which I had been trudging for so
long ; and the nasty feeling that I was lost began to assei't itself
above the instinctive thought that the direction in which I was
going was the right one. I fought the feeling down and started
off again. After a while I fired a couple of shots with a period of
half-a-minute between — a signal tha.t I laiew would be recog-
nised, if heard, by those at the camp. Straining my ears I
caught no reply, and, feeling more and more perturbed in mind,
I kept on vainly trying to pick up any bearings in the gathering
darlaress. Suddenly, through the bush in front of me, not five
hundred yards away from the ant-hill, the welcome sight of the
waggon road greeted my eyes. How glad I felt- — and yet how
foolish ! ]My relief, thougli, was greater, as I had no wish to spend
a cold and rainy night in a lion veld witli only a Mauser pistol
with me. I was also tliinking of the good meal that was waiting
me at the camp. On my arrival there shortly afterwards, my
companions remarked, on seeing me return empty-handed :
" Xo luck ? Heard your two shots — we tlionght you had
brought something for the pot ! ' With a composui'c equal to
that of a Russian diplomatist I replied nonchalantly: '' No ! I
295
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
missed the confouiidcd hvutc — think I wounded it thougli ! "
The shots being so near the waggons the idea liad never occurred
to my com]ianions that it was a signal of distress. My trnthl'ul
remark ended tlie episode. It was the first time that I had
experienced so ))ad]y tlie very disiigreeable fechng of being k:)st
in tlie veld !
Tlie following day my brother started on liis lonely trek to the
Portuguese border. I trekked witli him for a little way, then with
just a l)i-ief woi-d and a farewell luuidsliake we paited.
The weathei" was now very hot and steamy and my cnei'gy
during the day was conspicuous by its absence. After a stay of a
few more days at Kurube the recruiter and I started to trek
back to Tsau, travelling in the Cape cart. Five days of easy
trekking brought us to the camp (in chai'ge of lii'own), which
was situated about seven miles outside the stadt. During our
I'etuj'ii trek our luck with the numerous game became disgrace-
ful. I I'ccall one most tantalising incident. I liad put up a riet-
buck, \\iiich ran for some distance, then stop] d and stared
back. It was not a h.undj'cd yards off — -an easy sliot, even for
me, but for the fact tliat rigiit behind tlie ]:)uek was a uioh of
cattle gi-azing. Twice I ])ut my gun to my slioulder ; twice I
refrained fj'om pulling tiie trigger. It was not so much tlie
feai' of missing the animal (though witli the knowledge of those
cattle riglit behind I sh.ould not h,;'Ac Ixx'ii su ]:>!•! scd if I had
missed) as that tlie high ex])losive bullet 1 w;is using might find
yet anotliei' billet. Eventually I lowcied iny gun. deciding that
T would not risk it; ])ut that confounded biiclc reniaiiied stoc'k-
still stni'ingat nie ! I belie\'e the .-inimal A\as ])('rl'e(,'tly aAvai'c of
the (juaiidary T was ij^ ; and. furthei-. knew tliat T belonged to a
rec'tiiting ])a''ty and that the last ihi]ig to hel]) oni- nliins Avas to
l)lot out a nati\'e ox. At hist I threw a stone ,';t the buck i;i
d'sgust and blessed it briefly. Avhc'T'On it languidly tinned its
hcitd aiid vanished ijito the reeds.
During 1 liis trel-: back to T-^au I got mv fn'st attack of injdai'ia,
which Avas about the only material thing I got out of the tiip.
Fe\ei is \'eiy rift: up liere during the I'aiiu' season, as also a
296
0lh M^r-
|!h . I ', \\| !■; I\ \i, Wll 1 \\ h
>Ki-: \i' \Mi : i ( ik(i\(, \ \\ \>- I UK,
ALONG OKAVANGO AND RETURN TO LAKE
virulent form of malaria, the blackwater fever, which is fatal
in so many cases.
After a week Brown was despatched with another waggon—
altogctlicr too heavily laden — to follow up my brother. Morgan
blandly assin-ed him that he would be at Andara under a fort-
night, whei-eas he took well ovei- a month. The two waggons — the
one with my brother and the other with Brown- — being now
out of sight, they were cojisequently out of mind also, so far as
our leader was concerned. He had quite foi-gotten the small
detail that he had promised my brother to follow him up veiy
s])eedily. He had not left Tsau when I started my i-eturn trip ;
a]id that was some two months after.
On Brown's departure the recruiter returned to the stadt,
leaving me in charge of the remaining waggons and the live-stock.
With the rains had come the dreaded horse-siclviiess, and one
bv one our vouno' horses succumbed to the disease. It was
indeed the saddest part of my duties to watch these young
hoi'ses, now in splendid condition, struck down one after another
])y this deadly sickness. The first mare we lost died in a most
sudden manner. One evening just before sundowii, when all the
lioiscs were brought in from the veld and were receiving their
evciiiug feed of mealies, I noticed one mare not eating, but
eousidercd, as she looked so fit, that she had eaten her fill during
[]\c (lay. Being generally accustomed to take a short evening ride,
I ordered the natives to catch this mare and saddle hei" up,
tiiin^^iiig tlie exercise would do her good. I remarked then that
she gave very little ti-ouble whilst being handled ; as a rule she
was very skittish and fresh, not having been ridden much. I
cantered for a sho;t distance, but, finding hei" very listless, I off-
-juld'ed ]]cv. She was perspiring freely, though I had not ridden
her l'a;-d. llowcvei-, beyond ordering the native to walk her up
;i;id down before tying her up to the line I paid very little
<itteiition to tliis fact, -[iartieiilarly as the mare was looking so
l';it. She Avas stone dead at ten the next morning ! The foam
j'oujid her nostrils told us only too truly the disease of whieli she
had died. That was the first victim to horse-sickness, which
297
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
eventually claimed every horse we brought up to the Lake 1
Horsc-sickuess is a form of pleuro-pneumonia and is usually
fatal. The percentage of deaths in the Lake Xgami district is
nearly ninety. During the dry season horses are safe, but after
the first dew or rain the dread disease makes itself felt. Horse-
sielcness is caused by a germ conveyed to the animals by some
insect — possibly the ubiquitous mosquito. The germ seems to be
killed by the first frost, and till the next rainy season the horses
of the district are immune from attack. The few that recover
from the disease are to a great extent immune from a second
attack and are so termed " salted " ; a " salted " horse is worth
nearly three times as much as it was before an attack.
Donkeys are quite immune from this sickness, vrhilst mules
are to some extent. It is only among horses tliat the disease
plays such havoc. Inoculation has been tried on both horses
and mules, l:)ut up to now with little success. A fortune awaits
the veterinary surgeon who discovers some successful inoculation
against Avhat is perhaps the greatest stock-devastating disease
with wliich Africa has yet to contend.
Whilst disease was decimating our horses, the fittest of them
seeming to be the first victims, the recruiter remained in the
stadt recruiting. What I did not know ! Aftci' a series of false
alarms regarding the Makubas who were going to be collected
(always in the futuie tense) one native was gathered in at last.
I ascertained afterwards that this recruit had not been inspired
by any deep desire to work in the mines, but l)y the fact tliat
his Motawana owner was looking for him ; and that, as he
antici])atcd some disagrecal,)Ie moment- coincident witli meeting
him, lie had tactfully decided to find another. This one valual)le
asset was all we had up to now to show for six months' ti'ckking
and an ex])C)uliture of nearly four thousand })0unds. I strongly
suggested, tlicrefore, that tliis recruit should be sent down to
Jo]ianne^l)urg to reassure our promoters, who, incidciitally, had
never I'eplied to any of tlie marvellous elToits of literature with
whieli ]\[oi'gan had ])eri()dieal]y furnished tht-m. These letters
Used invariably to inform them of the imminent departure of a
298
ALOXCx OKAVAXGO AND RETURN TO LAKE
thousand natives for the Rand (the recruiter never talked or
thought of anything under thousands). I can as easily picture
the joyous faces of the promoters on the receipt of these first
letters as I can picture their anything but joyous expressions
when only bills instead of boys arrived. They did realise
eventually that the thousand natives existed only in the
recruite]-'s mind. The one native I referred to had his right arm
withered, a fact of which he did not trouble to inform jVIorgan
till after being contracted ; he was therefore about as much use
for a mine as a lawyer is for the Navy. He never reached
Johannesburg, however ; he eloped one dark night on my return
trek. Perhaps the fact that I had that same evening caught him
stealing my limited supply of sugar and had booted him
emphatically may have hastened his dcpaiiure.
The conditions prevailing at the Lake were not conducive to
any i-ecruiting, as the ]Makubas, the only tribe from which we
could hope to recruit, are more or less the personal property
of the Batawana, and these latter were too wise to let their
servants, or slaves (the former designation sounds nicer in
British territory), out of their hands. The Batawana, though
openly passive on the point, circulated all sorts of ugly rumours
behind our backs. Consequently a ]Makuba would almost fly at
the sight of us. The chief was sympathetically disposed to
the recruiting of some of the Makubas, but his power with the
natives at the Lake was practically nil, in striking contrast to the
hrm control maintained by the former chief, though a usurper.
Nothing exciting occurred whilst I was in charge at tlie camp
outside Tsau, except an occasional ride into the stadt, where I
used to s])cnd some pleasant hours at tlie police camp, which
included the R.^M.'s quarters and also those of the doctor.
Lake Ngami does not as a rule sport a permanent doctor ;
the white inhabitants do not exceed twenty in number. The
disciple of /Lsculapius, who was then resident at the Lake, had
been sent tliere for the purpose of ascertaining whether sleeping
sickness was present in Ngamiland or not, certain disquieting
rumours concerning the presence of this disease in the territory
299
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
linvinfi' rcncliod tlic ears of tlic aiitlioi-itics at ^Nrafokiiig. Beyond
llio j'af'i tliat 1lic (loclf)r (]isco\'ciT(! ilic oTcatcr part (^f tlio
iiati\Ts, andqui I (■ a icw of the \\iiites also, had a distinct tendcnfy
to tin's disease in tliat tlie syni])toni of l)ei]ig always tiicnl was
sti'ongly ]n'onoiineed. the result of his investigations was that
Xganiiland was free of the niierol)e ^In.s'suui palpalis, which.
conveys the germs of sleeping sickness.
The ]:)ei'inanent doctor ! at the Lake, the medical ordei'ly of
the 1).]^.P.. gave n]) ]:)i'actice 'whilst I ^\as tlieix-. having been
engaged by oni- genial leader, ^vhose hobby it was to hire
])eo]:)le at fabnlons salai'ies. T think most of the residents in that
])art of ]?eehnanaland j'cceived h.andsome oj'fers f I'om [Morgan ;
in fact, I ain not sure whether the R.^M. In'mself did not receive
a tr'm])tinii; though ephemeral offei-. All. save the Pi'ofessor,
as he was l-;nown. had the s-avnir-iairc !:o declin.e wifh thanks.
The Profcssoi' was riuite a chai'aeler at the Lake adid iwsscssed
a patriarchal bcaid whei'cwith to hide a, somewhat doubtful
chin, lie was engaged to doctoi- the thousands of natives who
wei'C to ce)me from Angola, and he eondesceiuledto infoi'm me — •
a mei'c I'ecruiter's assistant — that it Avas his inteniion to set u]>
amongst tlie Ovambos. failing that — in Harley Sii'cet ! As he
liad nearlv killed two of the residents in 'J\au. 1 am wondering
at the moment whetluM' tlie Professor or the Ovambos liaA'c been
move suecessfid in their respective cui-es. lie dc])ai'ted from
the Lake amid the mom-mng ol' grateful ])atients.
"Wlicu not at the ])olice cam]) I would l)e i]i ojie of th.e stores.
whei'C 1 Avas bound to find ^lorgan. Incidenially a.ho I ^^"ould
be regaled with the latest low-down methods th.at rival tia.ders
had em]:)loved. ihf- insinuatir)ji of course beingthat my informant
was the only one that Avould not stoo]) to such de])t]is of
dej)ra^'itv. 'I'liere aie ihi'ce store's in T-.au. the la''g(-.f being the
Heciiuanalaiid Tradinu' As-.ocial icMi. This c()m]jauy has many
branches in the Prot cet orade. 'J'lic manager in 'i'^au wa-^ con-
s])ieuous thia'c as b(-ing a hont the onlx' trader 'who had a rndi-
menla'.v' ifica of business. TIk- other two stores \v(M'e ])ri\'ately
owned, and one of them you would ha\'e thougjif was at least
-l()0
ALONG OKAVANGO AND EETUBN TO LAKE
fmaiiccd by the Rothschilds from the remarks that went floating
about the store. Bluff seemed to be its foundation stone.
Having located ^Morgan in one of the three stores, cither
squatting on the counter recruiting — bills, or playing cards, 1
Avould put to him the usual question, "Well, when am I going
to get away ? " and by way of answer, I would generally be
regaled with an account of some weiid and marvellous scheme
his fertile brain was hatching. At times I would almost become
enthusiastic over the scheme, till juy conmion-sense would tell
me it was wholly impracticable. His persuasive tongue could
even dam the cold stream of reason.
Thus things went on. Days and weeks passed with no change
in our position. The horses died one by one, till we had lost more
than half our original stock.
When any horse succumbed, crowds of aasvogels (vultures)
would be on the spot not many minutes afterwards, and, unless
the women of the stadt got there iirst, would pick the skeleton
clean in a few hours. The remarkable thing about these aasvogels
is their extreme acuteness of either vision, hearing or scent ;
it is rather hard to say which. If you shoot a buck it will not be
long before the cloudless sky is darkened with numbers of these
birds, which will gather round, sitting motionless on the branches
of the trees awaiting their share. Even when an animal dies a
natural death — with no gun report — it remains undiscovered
for but a very short time. This rather suggests that it is the
acuteness of their vision that is responsible for theii' presence.
They probably watch the movements of the leader, A\ho is not
so hig]) in the heavens. It is hard to say for certain.
Ilyycnas also began to take a more than usual interest in our
camp; the dead bodies of our poor hoi-ses, so I'apidly increasing
in mimber, attracted these marauders whose howls wci-e to be
heaid every night. Judging by an experience of mine, they too
nmst be gifted with very acute senses. It was shortly after
sundown when I heard the distant howl of a hyyena coming, as I
icckoned, to the carcass of a horse that had not long been dead.
As the body lay not far from the camp, I decided to 1 1'v to get
A AVAXDERER'S TRAIL
a shot at my visitor. I crept silently through the veld and took
up a position in the shadow of a fallen tree and waited — and
that is all I did ! AVhether the hyaena winded nie or whether
some almost imperceptible movement on my part betrayed my
presence, I Icnow not. All I do IvJiow is that I wasted an hour
fruitlessly on the damp veld. Swarms of flying ants came along
periodically. They would anive in clouds, after a heavy fall of
i-ain in the evening, and having dropped their wings — ^not being
at all particulai- as to where they dropped them — they would
then proceed to crawl away. The natives used to eat all they
could lay tlieii- hands on, a dish of flying ants being considered
quite a delicacy. What with flying ants, mosquitoes, doses of
fever at intervals, the thrilling occupation of doing nothiiig but
watch horses die, I was getting heartily tired of this inactivity
and pined to be on trek again.
Whilst camped here I had the opportunity of pi'oving what I
had heard many times — -the uneri'ing instinct of a Jiorse to find
its way — granting, of course, certain favourable conditions.
The occasion was on my return to the camp after one of my
periodical visits to the stadt. I had left rather later than usual
and it was neaj'ly dark before I started. Theie Avere two or three
different roads out of the stadt and I took the wi'ong one, my
horse starting off at a hand gallop in her anxiety to get to her
evening feed. I imrst have gone foi' a1)Out a mile before 1 noticed
the road I was on was leading to swampy ground. Instead of
retracing my step^, 1 cut through the bush at an angle to my left.
It was Jiow quite dark. 1 kept on steadily in this diieclion for
about an hour, till 1 became doubtful as to whether I was not
going too far above the eamji. I therefore dropped my rein and
left it to my horse to decide. Witlicmt a moment's hesitation she
turned off the; small tj'aek 1 wa- Jollowing and went straight into
the buslu forciiig her ^vay tluough tlioi']i bush and undei- ovei -
hanging boughs of trees, quite regardless of hci' rider. Most of
the time I h;id to eroucli low on lier neck, protecting my faec'
^vitil ni\ ai'Jii J'l'oni tlu' llioins ; uiicv I was dragged e(jjn]jletely
out of tlif ^addle !)>' a bj'aueh and had ojiJy iime lo gi'<i^p the
^02
z\LOXG OKAVANGO AND RETURN TO LAKE
reins to prevejit the frightened animal from bolting. When after
half-an-hour or more no sign of the camp was forthcoining, I
dismounted to ascertain if the horse knew the way to the pi-esent
camp, as we had recently shifted some little distance owing to
the scarcity of water. ]Mounting, I turned her in quite an op])ositc
direction ; then again I dropped the reins. Immediately the
mare turned and resumed her former course through the thick
bush, ignoring cattle ti-acks and native paths, which told me she
was as equally anxious to get to her supper as I was. It was not
long before the welcome lights of the camp fires were visible
through the trees and the camp was readied. After seeing my
mare busily crunching her mealies, I spent ten minutes picking
thorns out of my sldn.
On the fifth of December the rest of the waggons witli the few
remaining horses (which subsequently died) were despatched to
Kurube, for the grazing there was richer. I was now homeless,
save for my tent and horse. Like a wandei-ing Arab I moved
my abode, this time migi-ating into tlie stadt. I ]iitched my tent
near the police camp with a small river close by. It was decidedly
a pleasant spot, if mihealthy.
Our recruiting efforts, beyond the one '' coon " already men-
tioned, had met with not a particle of success. However, at that
particular moment news reached us that a large party of
Damaras had been successful in crossing the German border
and were in tlie long stretch of desert that separated the Lake
disti-Jct from the borders of Damaraland, waiting for the vleis
to lill up with the rains which down to then had not been
plentiful. To reach them it meant a week's trek through a
waterless desert. ^Morgan with admirable promptitude arranged
for a water cart to go out to bring the party through the desert ;
a good stock of food was also provided, as wc heard the refugees
were only living on roots and on any small animals thev could
kill.
After a period of three weeks these natives reached T.^a,u, and
a more dilapidated, nondescript crowd of mi.serable humanity
I never set eyes on before ! The poor starved wretches had been
303
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
living for months on roots and ant-bears. They were all ]3racti-
cally nude, save foi- a few rough skins round their loins. What
with tlic fear of the German police on one side and the pitiless
desert on the other, they had led a miserable existence and
numbers of them iiad died. They told us the German ]jolice
on many occasions had not Iresitatcd to cross the border to
rccaptuie them. This fact is not sur}n-i,^ing, seeing that no one
in the Protectorate has any idea where the border is and north
of Rietfontein a mounted policeman is never seen.
We eontiacted forty-seven men of the party for tliC mines
without any demur on their part, as they 1-aicw their chief,
Samuel Maheicro, and othei's of their tribe were in the Transvaal.
Our interpreter, too. had not been born the day before ! As the
men would not trek without tlieir families, we had to arrange
that the whole ]:)arty — -men, women and children — should trek
to Palapye. Some of tlie men had more than one wife ; so with
these we arranged t(j soi't them out, so that each man had only
one wife, the expense of trekking for the wife being charged to
the appointed husband.
We tlien started to make the necessary arrangements for my
return trek ; and liere again the recruiter distinguished himself
by purchasing an old broken-down waggon, notwithstanding the
fact tliat there were fom- sound waggons lying idle in various
])artsof the district. Tliis \vaggon is jiow rotting in the Kalahari
desert and was i'es]M_)nsible for the dis])ersal of all those con-
tracted natives. It was about lit for lirewood. one of the wheels
being in a mo>t ]irccarious condition.
At this juncture I received a letter from my Iji'otherat Andara,
askijig when the reci-uiter ^vas coming u]), and informing me iliat
he was hving on native food, all liis pro\'isions being exhausted,
and that every one of lliem was down Avitli malaria ^v]lich was
]'ife iji the stadt. He added in a })ostseri]jt that he v.as con-
templating an innncdiate rcUii-Ji. iis he could nol justify liie
unendino- delav to the natives, who were; sim])l\- out ol' hand, and
that it was idle to continue wasting one's timt' iji tnis maimer.
(A moiith alter my de})arlurc my brothei' severed all cojuiec-
oU4
ALONG OKAVANGO AND RETURN TO LAKE
tion with the expedition, covered the distance from the
Portuguese border to the Lake on horseback and returned by
a native waggon to Palapye.)
Notwithstanding that the natives were all contracted, delay
after delay occurred. Though we had been in the stadt for weeks,
when the moment to leave arrived there was not a bag of grain
to be obtained, or a span of oxen for the waggon, although I
hud been repeatedly assured that ever3i:hing was arranged for
immediate departure.
To cap this, notwithstanding my most urgent recommenda-
tions, supported by those of our head-boy, Philip, that the natives
should be kept on short rations whilst not trekking, as it was
impossible to feed them in a similar manner on the veld, the
recruiter, in spite of our protests, supplied them with all the food
they wanted, again making a bid for cheap popularity regardless
of consequences. The very thing I wanted to avoid was the very
thing that happened— discontent, with incessant grumblings,
and numerous desertions on trek.
Perhaps the culmination of the recruiter's folly was to engage
as foreman for these contracted Damaras the biggest loafer
he could hnd in the stadt, a man with a stiff price on his head
for some cold-blooded mui'ders in Damaraland. To make matters
worse, he undermined my authority by telling this native,
Schmidt, that lie was the boss, and that it was a mere Govern-
ment formality that a white man accompanied the natives at all.
Of this, of course, I had no knowledge at the time.
Christmas Day found us still in the midst of aimless prepara-
tions. The day I spent at the police camp and in the evening
I joined a pleasant party a,t the Resident Magistrate's quarters,
and we all spent an enjoyable time. On the following day-
Boxing Day — tJie Tsau races were held. Besides horse-races,
all kinds of other competitions had been arranged by the tradcis
for tlie amusement of the participatoi's — the natives — and the
spectators. Foot-races, bullock and obstacle races, caused
considerable anmsement. The Tsau handicap was a masteipiece
in itself. The chief's horse, ridden by the chief himself in a
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
discoloured jockey gaib, was hopelessly behind. Nevertheless
he won ; though not till after some most masterly exhibitions
of pulling on the part of other riders. One need not, however,
trek to Tsau to witness that. Germiston and Turffontein will
provide you with all the illustrations of this you may desire.
I spent my last evening at the police camp, and on leaving
I lost my way through the sea of huts. A native stadt is worse
than Hampton Court ]Mazc. Even I'csidcnts of long standing not
unf requcntly lose their way on a dai'k night, and not necessarily
because a vaatje of dop has just rolled up from below.
On the third of Jjuuiary — my twenty-fifth birthday — I in-
s])anncd and trekked out of the stadt, the waggon heavily laden
with grain. It was followed by the motley crowd of natives
— men, women and children — nearly 150 in number. I do not
think that tlie residents of Tsau will foj-get in a liui-i y tliat long
line of di]a])!dated humanity streaming out of the stadt, the
men armed with spears, the women cari'ying ])ots and pans of
all shapes, from the relic of an old bath tub to the I'cmains
of a kciosene oil tin — .their loins girded, but nothing more.
It was with a full presentiment of the troubles in store that
I started on my lonely trip to civilisation.
306
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CHAPTER X
TROUBLES ON MY RETURN TREK
ON outspanning I sat by the fire long into the night. The
httle fires around mc died out one by one and soon the
noise and chatter of the natives gave place to the all-
pci'vading stillness. Though glad to be once again on trek, I was
in no cheerful spirits. Contemplation of the disastrous failure of
the ^vliole scheme of which at one time I had been so sanguine,
the presentiment of the innumerable troubles and worries ahead
and a general feeling of lassitude, the result of periodical attacks
of fever, combined to create a feeling of deep depression. It was
not far from dawn when I slept.
We inspanncd early in the morning and made a long trek to
]Moopooti Drift. As the interpreter engaged to accompany us
had not yet turned up, I had some little difficulty in making
the foi-eman, Schmidt, understand my wishes — namely, that all
tiie natives were to go ahead, my idea being that if any should
become sick they could be picked up by the waggon. The natives,
liowevcr, seemed to be possessed with a dogged spirit of contrari-
ness in this respect, being loath to get out of sight of the waggon
by going ahead, though perfectly ready on any pretext to straggle
Ijchiiid. The foreman apparently interpreted his duty as that of
sitting on the waggon and doing nothing but add his weight to
the burden tlic oxen had to pull. The driver of the waggon had
been hired by iMorgan at the ridiculous wage of three pounds a
montli (having been before in the employ of a storekeeper in
Tsau al a wage of fifteen shillings a month, and well paid at
that). He managed to smash the tent of the waggon in tlie second
trek. If it had been the dry season I should not have minded so
nmeli, but the rains were now more or less steady ; so I was
307
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
pretty wroth at this act of carelessness and promptly dismissed
him, returning him to the recruiter with a brief note to the
effect that again I could not congratulate him on his selection
of drivci's. Tliis, the reader will recall, was a repetition of my
former experience when leaving the Mukwe.
A long ti-ek brought us to a native cattle-post shortly after
sundown. Here the foreman came to me with a long yarn that
certain sick natives were behind and that it would be better if I
stopped a day to await their arrival. Knowing, howevei-, by now
the trickery of the Domaras, I perceived clearly that the real
pretext was to gain anotlier day to loaf at this cattle-post among
tlieir fricjids ; so I turned a deaf car to this story and stroiigly
reprimanded Schmidt for not carrying out my instructions to
keep the natives ahead of the waggon. At dayljreak I inspaujied
and puslied on, leaving the natives to follow on, knowing full
well that empty stomachs would soon draw them after the waggon
which contained their food. I reached Totin in the evening and
outspanned by the police camp. I spent a pleasant evening with
the N.C.O. stationed thei-e. lie was a most entertaining fellow,
having been in liis younger days a nieni])er of the London
]\Ict ropo] itan Police. Many a West End cafe we visited that night.
I Ic'viJ'nt that just before my arrival a lion had been shot iji a
small village close by, so 1 went out dui'ing the day to tiy to
secure the skin, 1)ut found it, as is gcnei'ally the case, completely
spoilt by the speai's of tlie Jiatives. A bullet had killed it, but the
natives in tlieii- ti'iuniph had stabbed away at the fallen beast
till the skin was in strips.
The River BotleLle had noNv sunk to i ts normal level again and
I liad no dilFiculty in fording. The bags of grain were taken from
the waggon and conveyed to the opposite bank in a dug-out ;
the em])ty waggon was then pulled through by the s])an of oxen.
On the evening of the second day I i'eccived a message from
Schmidt that some of the natives were too sick to eoine on and
they wanted the waggon to return. As all the natives a few days
pi'c\'ious to OTU' depaitui'e Jiad ()eeii examined by the doctor at
the Lake and had been pronounced sound aiid lit for tiekking, 1
jo6
Ai;i>ri I'o iRds^
i
SiS^r'--^^r7».j'
\l-: \KI N' I'll K
TROUBLES ON IMY RETURN TREK
re])lied briefly that the sick ones could stay where they were
and the otliers had better come on quickly. I deduced from
this that the foreman had practically no authoi-ity over the
natives, which warned me only too truly of the weeks of worry
and trouble iji store for me. In fact, it was just touch and go that
I did not return to Tsau then and there, sever my connection
witli the scatter-brained recruiter and leave him to his own
devices. After consideration I decided to see the thing through —
and was sorry immediately afterwards.
On the following day all the natives straggled in save two. I
allowed them only one day to rest before we resumed our trek,
for I could affoi'd but very little time, as the grain I had was
Just sufficient to reach Rhakops.
From Totin in the rainy season there are two routes to
Rhako])s ; one along the river (the way we had come), and the
other through the Heina Veld, which lies to the south of the
river. This ^'cld in the dry season is a waterless desert, but
during the j'ains it is possible to trek through, as many of the
vJeis there retain water. To get through means a week's hard
trekking at the best of times. January as a rule is not too early
for ti'ekking, though I had been advised by those in Tsau not
to risk it as the rains up to then had been very scanty. It had
})ecn, therefore, my intention to go down by the river road, till
I was rather foolishly persuaded by Schmidt to go via the Heina,
He urged on me the fact that tiie natives were used to " thii'sts,"
Avliilst the river area would be bound to make many of them
sick with fever. Further, both he ond Natal (my interpreter)
^v]lo knew this Lake road well, said the pans in the desert were
bound to liave water in them by now. A heavy thundei'storm
at Totin and the siglit of black rainclouds over the Quelle Hills
couiirmed me in my decision, altliough it was against my
]>revious intentions ; I had, however, an inward conviction that
I was doing the wrong thing — and so indeed I was ! One fact
reassured me : leading from Quebe Flills back to the river there
was n.n old waggon road by which, if unable to cross the desert, I
could regain the river area without having to reti'ace my steps.
309
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
At sunrise we started. Ours was the first waggon of the season
to take this route, so no waggon spoor was visible and the oxen-
traek was considerably overgrown. ]\Iucli of the ground was
flooded by the recent heavy rains ; this reassured me somewhat
and revived in me hopes that the pans in the Heina might have
some water in them.
We made three long treks that day, outspanning for the
night at about nine o'clock, as far as one was able to calculate
the time. A watch is a more or less useless article on tlie veld,
the sun, moon and stars being one's guide. We had come
through much thick bush and the sand was very heavy, conse-
quently it had been hard work for the oxen to cut a track
thi'ough. The waggon was also very heavy, as it contained some
three thousand pounds of grain, as well as half-a-dozen sick or
malingering natives on it. ]\Iuch game spoor was visible, chiefly
wildebcestc and impalla ; small buck spoor and that of wild
pig were also numerous.
At sunrise our caravan was on the move again and we made
a Ions morning trek. The soil iiow chano'cd. the heavv sand and
thick bush giving place to stony ground sti'cwn with boulders ;
some large trees, especially the ]?a.obab. were noticeable. The
stony and uneven ground made it even more trying for the
oxen, and I had ever in my mind the fear of the rickety front
wheel breaking.
We outspanned in the Quebe Hills towards noon, after a
stee])ish ])ull up the rising ground. These hills are oiic of the few
isolated groups of outcrop to be found on the Kalahari. At the
foot of ma!iy of these hills numbers of large Baobab trees grew,
some being of huge girth.
On our ai'i'ival thej-e I ordered certain natives to l)c despatched
to the nearest pans to aseci'tain whether tliey held any water.
I further instructed these natives to bring to the cani]i any
wandering bushmen they miglit come across, as I hoj^cd to learn
from these walking eneyclopa-dias of veld lore how lieavy the
rains had been in the Heina.
A violent thunderstorm b!'oke over the hills that night, the
310
TROUBLES ON MY RETURN TREK
lightning playing with great brilliancy on the quartz kopjes.
Wc took the precaution of unfastening the trek-ch;)in from the
waggon, the foi-nier lacing ever a dangerous attraction for the
electricity. It is no very rare occurrence for a whole span of oxen
to be struck dead by a flash, the electric current having struck
the trek-chain with fatal results.
Some of the natives were getting sick, the continual I'ains
wetting them through and through. I did what I could for them,
which chiefly consisted of looking wise, taking their tempera-
tures with a clinical thermometer (which I tcld them informed
me infallibly as to whether they were malingering or not) and
dosing them with Epsom salts. Epsom salts was my panacea
for everytliing from a swollen head to blackwater fever.
About noon on the following day the two Damaras returned
with tlie news that they had been unable to find any pans at all
in the veld, or l^ushmen either, but that the grass everywhere
was very green ajid the ground very moist. I decided on hearing
this to risk it. It was not of the oxen that I was anxious ; fo]-,
by careful arrangement of treks so as to give the cattle every
opportunity of grazing Avhen the grass was wet with dew or
rain, I felt eoniident of getting through safely, even if we came
on no pans at all with water in them. I was concerned foi- the
party of natives in my charge ; for I had no wish to leave co]'pses
behind as a souvenir of my trip.
I thereupon assembled all the natives of the party together
and spoke to tliem through my interpreter. I told them that
they had a three days' hard trek before them if there was no
water in the veld ; that they must therefore walk and not loaf ;
tliat tlioy must bcb.ave like men and n^ot like children. I ordei'cd
them to cook before their departure thi'ce days' food and to fill
u]) cvfM'v availal)le pot and pan with wntei'. Haxing asked them
if t])(-y liad anything to say, and rcceivin.g tlic response that
they had n(rthing, I dismissed them to their task of getting
eveiytl'iiig icady for the trek.
Tlie nati\ es started at two o'clock the next day. thougli not
without mueli delay on their part on fir.->t one pi'ctext and tlien
^'.11
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
anotlier, t'll my patience was well-nigh exliaustcd. When the
last man was out of sight I gave oiders not to in'^pan tlie waggon
till sundown, as I wanted the natives to get well rJiend.
The sun had all but sunk wlien our wagnon started rumbling
over the boulders and stones through the kopjes. We had not
trekked more than a mile l)efore we eame on the whole party
of natives, foreman and all, squatting on their haunches ! For a
moment I nearly saw red. I never before experienced such a
revulsion of feeling or such an intensity of rage. In a flash it
all passed through my brain — the uselessness of my planning,
sehemiiig, or worrying about these craven eui's. I reflected
bitterly upon the foreman's lack of authority and his selection
by the recruiter ; if ever eai's tingled at tliat moment they wei'c
tho^e of our scatter-brained leader in Tsau. One or two of the
natives caught sight of my face at that moment — it was not
pleasant to look upon, I am sure — and slunk away. Beyond
issuing a brief oider to the driver to turn round the waggon and
return to the hills I said not a word. ^Yal]cing ahead, I realised
the hopelessness of attem])ti]ig to tix-k with tlie>e nntives
through the Heina "thirst." and that there ^v^.s onh' the one
alternative before me, that of I'cturning to tlu- river.
After outspanning I gave oixlei's that every notive was to be
up before dawn to find the old Lugard road,^ which led to the
river. I ate my supper that night in gloomy silence, disgusted
with ever}i;hing ; if I had only had someojie to whom I could
have talked it would luu'e been some ]-elief. I saw, liowcver,
that woi-rying would not help matters, so I resigned myself to
the inevitable. The rainy day had given place to a most perfect
night. The stai's were shining In all their brillianex' and tlie lai'ge
trmiks of tlie Baobab trees stood out like giajits near tiie out-
spanned waggon. Nature was peaceful enough ; but Nature
only. Tlie little groups of natives in deep and excited cojiversa-
tion s]jelt trouble — it came !
It was not till the sun was liigh in the liCiivens tliat the spoor
' So named after Sir Fresierick Lu,-,MrcL one of the leaders of a pro-
specting company which ctit this road to the river.
'iI2
TROUBLES ON MY RETURN TREK
of tlie old waggon road was discovei-ed. But faint indications in
the thick bush were left of the track — disused for nearly fifteen
ye;irs — and it was only with great trouble tliat we were able to
follow the overgrown road. We had to cut away much bush and
cliop down many overhanging branches of trees. A span of oxen
does a lot to make a way for the waggon, but an overhanging
bough has to be cut down or it will completely break the waggon
tent ; as it was, before we reached the river the tent of the
"waggon was a wreck, its canvas in strips.
The veld between the hills and the river, one long sand-belt,
was waterless. I had very meagre information as to the number
of tieks it would take before we reached water ; hence I decided
to trek hard. Again I oi'dered the foreman to see that every
native kept ahead of the waggon.
We ti-ekked a good part of the dull and cloudy day. Much.
lieavy rain fell at times, which necessitated our stopping; to
trek during pouring rain means sore necks for the oxen, as wet
yokes soon raise blisters.
Most of the time I spent sitting on the fi'ont of the waggon
guiding the hind oxen by mouth and by whip, for fear the front
Avheel would come to grief on one of the many tree-stumps
that littered the overgrown track. What would have been the
result if that had happened I did not care to contemplate.
SufTicient unto the day then was the worry thereof !
We made poor progress through the veld as the impeding
])ush and thoi'u scrub made it hard work for the oxen to force
tlieir way through. There were, further, on the waggon, adding
their weight to the load of grain, a dozen or so sick natives, half
of tlicm malingerers. Had T, though, refused to allow them on the
waggon, they \n turn would have refused to trek — hence I was
between the devil and the deep sea ! Those raw natives had by
now got wise to the fact that each of them was worth so much
to me, and this only tended to make matters more difficult.
The foreman was almost worse than useless ; notwithstanding
my repeated exhortations that the natives should all keep in
front of tlie waggon, by the time I outspanned foi' the night I was
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
informed that several were still behind. Since the cattle had
already been one day without water and I had no exact idea as
to whether we niiglit reach it on the following day, I refused to
delay the waggon a moment ; for I was not going to let the poor
dumb animals suffer for the laziness of the so-called higher
animals in my charge. I consequently inspanned before dawn
and trekked hard all the next day. When outsponning for the
night we felt we were near the river, tlie distant croaking of the
frogs, not to mention the confounded mosquitoes, testifying to
the proximity of water.
That night I found only a cupful of water left in the vaatje of
the wao'o'on. and when this was finished I never felt so thirstv in
my life, though the night was cool. To appease my artificially
created thirst I took sundry sips of Cape brandy, flavoured with
an iron-quinine tonic — a queer mixture at the best of times.
A short morning trek brought us to the river, which looked
very fresh and ])ictui-esque after the monotoiious veld of the
sand-belt. By tlio river Vv'as a small village. Releasing the thirsty
oxen, which had ]:>cen two full days without water, we let them
drink tlieir fill. It is always a pleasant sight to watch a thirsty
span sucking up the cool water ; you feel how thoroughly they
desei've it.
While the oxen were grazing I had a most enjoyable dip in the
river, changing my dusty clothes for clean ones. I then proceeded
to await the arrival of the natives. When tlicy had turned up
I counted them and found nine men were missing and one or
two women also — about tlie women I did not woi-ry a jot as they
were onlv encuml^raiiecs. I sent back scvci'al of the most willing
natives witli water to bring tliem in. After a wait of a day and a
lialf tlie nati^'es ixtunied witli the unsatisfactory news tliat the
missing men and women, judging by the indications of their
foot])rints. liad returned in tlie direction of Tsau. I wa.s now
ten men short out of tlie number that had lei't the Lake with
me. My I'cference to this in my diary reads : " Now ten men
have deserted, which leaves thirty-eight in all ; if this continues
onlv ^^'a<^i:on and self will ariive in Serowe."
TROUBLES ON MY RETURN TREK
Once more I pointed out to my foreman tlic folly of not carry-
ing out the instructions given him and the seriousness of our
position. We had been on trek for seventeen days and had only
covered seventy miles in actual distance. There were but ten
bags of grain left and no prospect of obtaining any more till
we ]-eached Rhakops — in other words, there was just sufficient
food for ten days and in the manner in which we were travelling
it looked a full twenty days' trek to Rhakops. The prospect of
starvation seemed to strike home to the natives ; so did my new
rule : No trek — no food ! To appeal to the stomachs of the
natives seemed the only powerful argument.
In view of the incompetence of the foremaii, I appointed
certain of the best natives as ])o]ice boys. To these I issued
instructions that they were to keep every native in front of the
waggon and that they might flog any they caught loafing
behind, I myself taking full responsibility. In my state of mind
then I would witliout any qualms have countenanced torture,
I write openly what my feelings were then, by penning an
extract from my diary. Being always alone, with never a white
mari with whom to exchange words or ideas, I spent many an
hour writing my thoughts and observations in my diary ; it
was, in fact, my only relaxation. The many hours of intro- and
retrospection leave on one's character an indelible mark, which
neither time nor change can efface. An almost unnatural state
of self-absorption is the inevitable result^ — ^a state that is
certainly not conducive to happiness.
Here ore some of my diary extracts for the 20th of January :
'■ Taking one hundred aiid fifty natives, men and women and
childicn, by waggon five to six hundred miles, through lion ^■eld,
through fe^'e^ veld, and thirstland — ^alone — is no cliild's play !
What a contrast the Damara women arc to the men. The former
carry tlicii- cliildren on tlieir backs and the greater part of the
kit — and are never sick and Jiever com])lain. Tlie men do
]iot]iing sa\'e loaf, grumble and malinger. True, it seems that
every country owes its greatness to its women and not to the men
— to the mothei's and not the fathers of the nation.
3^5
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
" The contact — -now of weeks — with these natives sickens me
more and more. When a skey breaks, or something delays the
waggon, a crowd of these niggers gather round it and start
chattering ]ike baboons ; so do they irritate me that I feel like
getting my sjambok and letting out all rovmd to relieve my
feelings. Oh for the slave days of old ! Chains and a few long
whips would make these loafing niggers walk their thirty miles
a day.
" How constant contact with these natives seems to render
one more and more callous, and less sensitive to the feelings of
others. I seem to feel I would gaze on the sufferings of one
of these natives with as much equanimity as I could on the
sufferings of a wounded snake ! "
In recoi'ding these lines I do not, of course, put them on
record as my feelings to-day ; but they were the sentiments
«olitude, overwjought nerves and the daily troubles on that
lonely trek pi'oduced.
When all the remaining natives wei'e assembled we started
trekking along the rivcj'. We were now able to trek for inost of
the way in the river bed since the wotej" had returned to its
normal level ; in places where the river banks were too high
and the trees too large the waggon track led through the sand-
belts tiiat stretch along the river.
]\Iy police system worked fairly well ; one of the natives was
flogged and the example had some effect. We were now on short
rations, as the stock of gi'ain was nearly exhausted. Foitun-
ately the natives wcie able to su])plement the little food they
were receiving with the flesh of simdry ant-bears, which they
were ])ast masters in eateliing. I nevci' tasted Ihe flesli myself,
but it lool'.ed good and a])])etising and similar to })oik.
In one c;veniiig trek we passed througli a forest of mopane
ti'ees, most of tlw.wi dead and bai'c. It was a most desolate
sight. The; tall gaunt trunks with tlieir gnai'led and withered
boughs stood out in weird relief against the dim liglit of the twi-
ll g} it sky — a forest of Death ! Some kind of worm liad caused the
destru'iLiou of niaiiy of these ti'ces, and lightning that of others.
316
TROUBLES ON MY RETURN TREK
The moon was now full ; so in order to save the oxen I trekked
as much as I could in the night-time, outspanning at sunrise to
give tlie cattle a short graze before the sun became too hot.
Whilst trekking, the natives would walk ahead for a couple of
miles, then squat down and kindle a fire. As soon as the
crack of the whip reached their ears off they would go again,
knowing that if they delayed a sjambok might descend on
their shoulders. When the waggon passed all that remained of
their little outspan fires would be the small heaps of glowing
embers.
Trekking on by the river we passed the Baobab tree and
shortly afterwards reached Samuel Shepherd's Post—a large
settlement of Damaras in charge of several cattle-posts.
Here, as I had feared, I was met by fresh trouble with
tlie natives. When I gave the signal to inspan (about three
o'clock a.m), having no wish to stop at this post a minute longer
than was necessary, a deputation of the niggers gravely informed
mc that they were not oxen and that I was killing them. I
informed the deputation in as forcible language as I could
convey through an interpreter that I fully agreed witii them^ — ■
tliat they were not oxen, for none of them had the heart of a
rabbit, and that if they were oxen I should have some lespect
for them. Not a complaint from any of the womcji ! Only from
tlie men who carried nothing save a spear. I cajoled them,
liumoured them like children, talked to tlieni like a father,
finally cursed them like a trooper, and went to sleep again.
There was nothing else to be done but wait for daylight. I
extracted from them, however, the bargain that if there were to
be no night trekking they nmst make at least two long treks a
day.
It was evident that the cattle-post natives had put them up
to it. (|uite a few of them being Christians. If you arc aiixious
to })ut your hands on a schehn native in Africa, just trek to any
Jiative kraal that has had a missionary in the vicinity. Inci-
dentally lock up everything you value in youi' \vaggon safely,
ior the Chri.^tianised coon has liiorouglil}- imbibeti the art of
6^7
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
thieving ! It is rather a sad thing to record, but alas only too
true.
The Damaras at this cattle-post, having been some time in
the Protectorate, were shrewd enough to see the whole position
and the many weak spots in my authority ; hence, to accept my
defeat gracefully was the wisest course. It was a case of a daily
fight for me to maintain my authority over the natives, for it
had not only been unsupported but had even been undermined
by the insidious beliaviour and talk of the recruiter. Had I once
had an open collision it ^vould have been the finish of every-
thing. A tale of death by fever would have easily accounted
for my dcjoarture, for there was not a white man to laiow the
diffei-encc. I do net wish to imply that I was too higluninded
to withstand the temptation to use brute force ; but I had
sufficient horse-sense to see that it would be fotal for me if
I once lost control of my temper and precipitated matters.
The day after this refusal on the part of the natives to trek
during the night I got "my own back" by making a long trek
till nearly noon. The day was cloudy, fortunately for the ])Oor
oxen, whicli had to bear the brunt of the laziness of the ]iatives.
By the river in this region we came on much spoor of hippo
and on one occasion I caught sight of a cow and calf going
down the river, grunting in unison.
A long evening trek brought us to Piet Sebcgo's stadt, where
we outspanncd for tlse night. Where before had been floods were
now "lands," well covered with croj)s of Ivjifir corn, mcvilies
and pum])kins, rather late, as the floods of that year had delayed
the planting though considerably enriching tlie ground.
That day 1 had a very narrow escape of gc-tting a broken limb
from the kick of an ox. We were heaving the river bed to trek
along the banks, aseending a very steej) drift. 1 was walking
behind the al'ter-oxen, urging thcju on, when one suddenh' let
out with liis hind leg. Fortunately I was wearing at the moment
leather riding gaiters, but for which the force of the blow would
have broken my leg. As it was, I got off very lightly, though I
was sore lor a lew da\s.
TROUBLES ON MY RETURN TREK
One more trek brought us to ^lakalambedi — on the border of
Khama's territory.
lu this trek we came on much Hon spoor, as well as that of
big game. At night-time the natives in hon veld always carried
burning torches gathered from their little outspans ; this line
of twinkling lights in the veld looked very quaint.
1 had been advised by native intelligence that the storekeeper
at 3Iakalambedi was very ill, so I pushed on to arrive as soon as
I could. I explained to the natives that I w^as going to trek all
that night till I reached the store, and that so far as they were
concerned they could do what they liked in the matter — either
come on the morning or trek with the waggon. With true cussed-
ncss, seeing that I did not care wdiat they did, they decided to
trek with me. I was walking ahead of the waggon that evening
in the clear moonlight, and, my thoughts reverting to the lion
spoor we had observed just before, I was wondering whether I
should ever get the opportunity of meeting a lion at close
quarters. Thus ruminating, my train of thoughts was suddenly
Ijrokcn by the sight of a crouching form not twenty yards ahead
of me. 1 stood stock-still, and stared. Not a movement. Not
a rustle. Only the same crouching position as though waiting
to spring. I levelled my gun, took careful aim, and fired !
Well, I may as well confess it — m}^ lion was no lion at all.
It was a thorn Inish. The moon's fickle rays and my imagina-
tion had done the rest.
It was late before we outspanned by the store. When the
natives turned up they were full of the fact that a huge hippo-
potamus had charged down to the river right in front of them,
making a noise like thunder crashing through the bush and reeds
bv the river.
3^9
CHAPTER XI
ON HORSEBACK THROUGH THE DESERT
I FOUND the trader at ^lakalamabedi store very ill,
thoroughly run down from fever and from the deadly
monotony of the place. He was the only white man for
miles around. He was also suffering from bad veld sores, many
of which had developed into sloughing abscesses. I was able to
be of some little assistance to him, but at the same time I
strongly urged him to leave the place — at least for a time — as
the life lie was living was not life at all, but merely existence.
I found there was not a bag of grain to be obtained in the
place ; in fact the storekeeper wished to buy some from me,
which was, of course, quite out of the question. The grain crop
in the district had been almost a failure, owing to the recent
floods. I spent a day at the store livening up the trader, who
sadly needed it. At sunrise on the following day I inspanned and
trekked out of the stadt. We were now in Khama's territory.
The veld here was covered with very fresh green grass, the great
part of the land through which we were no^v trekking having
been before under water.
We reached Moremi Drift the following day. 3Iucli of the
river near this drift was very rocky, numerous ironstone boulders
strewing the bed of the stream, I was making as long treks as
I could during the day, as my .suj^ply of food for the natives
was fast giving out ; fortunately the sky wa>> cloudy and over-
cast. I had reduced their ration^ to le.;^ than 1 lb. per licad a da\'.
a ^^triking contract to tlie surfeiting diet the recruiter had ^-o
foolishly lavished on them when in Tsau ; consequenth' I had
to listen daily to endless grumblings and complaints as to my
imworlhincss and to eulofries of our distin^uisht/d leader. What
ox HORSEBACK THROUGH THE DESERT
could one expect from a crowd of niggers so completely
spoilt.
I bagged a bull kudu near this drift, which was, however, as
tough as my boot and must have been nearly as old as Methu-
selah. The meat was a welcome change though after the eternal
filmed salmon and bully beef. The killing of such game was,
of course, against regulations, but in the circumstances I took
the risk. Nevertheless I thought it expedient to report the fact
to Chief Khama on my reaching Serowe. He, however, already
knew of it ! Native intelligence in South Africa is wonderful.
It was always a very pretty scene at night-time when out-
spaimcd by the river. But for the incessant friction and worry
I could have felt then at perfect peace with the world. On the
one side the dark smooth waters of the Eotletle silently flowed
between banks lined with thick reeds, in which the croaking frogs
nightly held concert ; on the other stretched the thickly timbered
veld, now quiet and still, in which twinkled the little camp fires
of the natives like fireflies in the darkness. Only the distant
snarl of a sneaking hyaena or the occasional grunt of a hippo in
tlie river would break with startling clearness the quiet of the
night. The little fires slowly died out one by one till just a few
bunimg embers gleamed in the darkness. Perhaps it was even
more peaceful and solemn when the darkness of night gave
place to the grey of dawn which came stealing up from the east,
paling the light of the stars, and when the greyness of dawn
gave j)lace to the tender hue of breaking day. In faint and
ghostly light the sleeping veldt awoke. The dawn, however,
l)rought also another day of worry and trouble. I would liavc
repeatedly to urge the natives to get on the move, not daring
to inspan till the last liad gone ahead for fear of some lagaii^g
behind, which meant in the end my missing the second trelc.
[t was very diflicult to recognise parts of the country through
which we had trekked before as so much of the land had been
then imder water. The drift which we had been com])('llcd
before to ford with double spans was now dry. Our travelling
"was consequently now nearly twice as fast, since many of the
X 321
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
long detouis before necessary were no longer so ; our waggon,
further, was nearly empty and this assisted the oxen con-
siderably. I outspanned at ]Menoakwena Drilt on the evening
of the 26th, where we found kraaled, on their way to Serowe,
a mob of cattle sent down for sale by one of the trading stores
at Tsau. Some waggons bound for the Lake were also out-
spanned here and we were able to obtain news of the road
ahead of us. What we gleaned was not reassuring. The waggon
natives informed us that the rains in the desert had been up till
then very scanty and that they had lost three oxen, two of which
had died in the " thirst," the other at the well. It had rushed
blindly for the water — mad with thirst — and had fallen into
the v/ell and broken its neck. This news of the road was not at
all satisfactory, for with all these natives I felt it would be a
difficult task, to trek fast, as would be necessary if I were not to
see my oxen die in the "thirst " ; and my experience with the
natives in the Ileina veld was hardly encouraging.
I rested the cattle during the forepart of the day following
our arrival at this drift, for ahead of us was the "thirst " of
Hendrick's road. In the afternoon we outspanned and trekked
till sundown. The sand was very heavy, the veld here being-
bare. After a short graze the oxen were inspanned again and
we made a long evening trek. After another sliort outspan we
trekked on till late in the night.
W^itli consistent contrariety a native must needs die in this
" t]iir>,t," not being considerate enough to Avait till we were near
water. He had been sick of blackwater fever for some days,
A sad wail — the death dirge of the Damaras — awoke the
sleeping veld. Jt was all the more })laintive in the ghostly still-
ness of a})pi'oaching dawn. Sunrise saw a newl}' made grave
in tJie widc-o])en veld and tlie waggon on trc;k. We trekked long —
far too long in tlie hot sun — till we reached the stadt of Rasebaki
by the river, wlierc tlic wearied oxen drank and grazed. A short
evejiijig trek brouglit us to Kop's Post- — the scene of our old
camp. As 1 hadantiei))ated tlie Damaras iu this Ciittle-post wen.'
liie cause of more trouble : here again mv Jibreless mob of black
ON HORSEBACK THROUGH THE DESERT
ivory told me that they were not oxen. They knew full well that
it was my intention to rest the cattle for two or three days at
the stadt of Rhakops, which was only two treks off. Disgusted,
I trekked on, leaving them there, and reached Rhakops flats
at sunrise, after travelling the best part of the night. 3Iuch spoor
of wild ostrich, a most peculiar imprint, was visible on these
flats. I outspanned by the police camp and had breakfast with
the cheery N.C.O., and it was good to see a white man again
after weeks with my blacks.
All the land round the stadt, which before had been under
water, was now covered with crops of mealies and Kafir corn.
I was advised to warn my driver to watch our cattle carefully
when grazing, as if they were found amongst the natives
" lands " the owners would demand compensation for alleged
damage to their crops. The crops had flourished well just after
planting as the ground had been enriched by the recent Hoods,
but now they were in sad need of rain ; hence the natives, fore-
seeing poor c]'ops, were not at all sorry to find a span of oxen
roaming amidst their mealies in view of the compensation to
come. I learnt " gallsick " had broken out amongst the cattle
in the stadt, whilst horse-sickness had been and still was rife.
]Most of the natives straggled in on the following day. As I
had promised them, I bought at the store a young ox and had it
slaughtered to give them some change of food. To my surprise on
going to tlie waggon where the ox was being cut up I found a hind
quarter missing and learnt that Schmidt liad coolly presented
it to some of his loafing friends in the stadt. This was the last
straw ! I gave the native till the next day to get it back, failing
which I would charge him before the police. Doubtless he
thought that I was bluffing in the u.sual manner of our
recruiter, for no meat was forthcoming on the morrow. He
got, therefore, a decided shock when two Easuto policemen
escorted him up to the police camp.
As I decided not to charge him formally, the })olice corporal
reprimanded the native severely. I had acquainted the N.C.O.
with the position, so he was not surpri'sed when my foreman, in
DO -3.
A WAXDEREirS TRAIL
defence, told liim that ^Morgan had put hiai in cliarge of the
natives and he could therefore do as he liked. The Daniara
added he would now return to the Lake. " Li irons, if you do,"
promptly replied the N.C.O. Personally I did not want him
imprisoned, for, bad as he was as a foreman, he was better than
nobody, and. further, one could hardly blame him, an ignorant
native, for trying mider the circumstances to show off to his
friends in the stadt what authority he held and what a big man
he was. In view of this collision with the foreman I determined
to take both him and Morgan at their word — Schmidt should be
the foreman and the sole one. I decided to ride on horseback
through the desert when we reached ^lopipi. Tliis decision of
mine was further prompted by the information I daily received
as to the cloud of distrust and suspicion that everywliere en-
veloped tlie doings of the expedition ; by the information that the
recruiter's spoor after his second departure from Johannesburg
was but a track of debts and broken promises. Hence I felt that
to ai-rivc in Serowe with these natives, without any arrange-
ments made for their reception, would mean numerous desertioiis
and endless trouble. J.ast, l)ut not least — I will be perfectly frank
on this point — 1 was so heartily sick and disgusted with the
^vhole affair, which from tJie beginning to the end had been but
one long course of pettiness and deception, anth to boot, a \nirc
laljour of love inasmuch as 1 had not received one penny of
the salary agreed on, that 1 felt the sooner 1 was Ihiished with
the whole " shooting match "' the better for me. 1 was also
feeling so below j)ar that 1 dreaded even the one more week
that 1 had yet to spend in the company of those natives.
We trekked liard round the river bend to Mopipi.as the river
was lined with cattle-posts, all of ^\•hich contained their mob of
loahng Damai'as. 1 so arranged the treks that we parsed most of
them whilst trekking and the principal ones during tlie niglit.
We reached .Mopipi. or "Barker's Store," on the 4th of February.
It ^vas undei'stood that this store was to su])ply us witli grain
for tlie natives. The storekeeper on my arrival informed me.
however, thai he had received no authority to do ^o and that the
324
I 1"MI. SWI.K I 1 1, ,M
ox HORSEBACK THROUGH THE DESERT
Inst nceonnt iiioiirrcd by fhc expedition lind not yet been j)aid,
the Johannesburg promoters having dishonoured the recruiter's
signatui-e. So I found niysell' in a very pleasant position — with
no food, and over one hundred natives on my hands ! I had no
alternative but to send the waggon back to Rhakops to try
to obtain grain from the store there. Meanwhile the trader
at ]\Iopipi, who was only acting on instructions, helped me out
by supplying me with just enough grain to keep the natives
from starving. This disgraceful confusion alone would have
decided me as to the urgent necessity of going ahead to Tuakc
some preparations for the natives and to endeavour in some
small ^vay to clear the cloud which hung over the affairs of the
expedition.
I was able to liire here a native horse, a " salted " one, and I
also engaged the owner to accompany me through the desert.
We saddled up at daybreak on the morning of the 8th, having
])acked on our saddles a few pounds of Boer meal, a little coffee
and sugar, and one or two tins of potted meat. This had to suffice
for the needs of myself and my native for about a week, bv
wliieh time we reckoned to reach the stadt of Serowe.
Having made all my preparations, I handed over the reins of
office to Schmidt with grim satisfaction. He did not seem to
relish very much his sudden promotion to absolute power — the
sole responsibility of a hundred odd men. women and children.
];}efoi-e moimting my horse I took a last look at the motley crowd
oF himianity, whom I had brought with me over three hundred
miles, with whom I had been for five weeks ; and so strange is
hmnaii nature that 1 felt almost a tinge of regret- — or was it
repioacli ?— as I grasped the reins and rode away.
(I never saw those natives again. I learnt that some of them
eventually an-ived in Serowe after having managed to smash
the front wheel of the waggon when in the desert ; and that but
lor one or two jjrovidential showers of rain they %vould have all
jjcrisjied of thirst.)
After riding three hours we reached Maehanin Pan. where we
A WAXDET^ETJ'S TRAIL
watered our horses and rested them for a couple of hours during
the heat of the day. My uative was a Bahurutsi, a river native.
He spoke a dialect full of " clicks " and " clucks," and it was
very difTieult to understand. However, by dint of much struggling
we managed to make ourselves intelligible to one another.
The water in this vlei was of the consistency of pea soup : a
sediment of mud an inch thick remained in my cup after drinking
some coffee. As hundreds of head of cattle had watered there
this was not very surprising.
We rode steadily on through the afternoon, reachiiig Chucutsa
pit at sundown, after crossing the wide stretcli of Chucutsa salt
pan, which was now nearly dry. Its surface was as flat as a billiard-
table, tlie alkaline deposit crumbling into powder under the
horses' feet. We off-saddled for a couple of hours at the water
to rest our horses and to have a short respite. Remounting, we
rode steadily on through the night till the moon sank. It was
then close on midnight. I was dead beat when I dismounted,
stiff and very weary. We had been in the saddle foi- nearly ten
hours and had covered some thirty-four miles. The heavy sand,
as also the length of our journey, prevented us froin pushing our
horses ; a fast steady walk was the only gait at wliieh we could
travel, for if we had ridden any faster our horses would not liave
lasted out the journey. On the part of tlie riders it was ]-eally
more a question of endurance than horsemansJiip. ^^'e tied our
horses to a tree near by and. fully dressed, threw ourselves on
tlic soft sand, using our saddles as pillows and our blankets to
keep off the dew. I slept like a dead man till sunrise, when we
niounted our horses and rode on. After riding for alK)ut an liour.
we came on to a waggon outspanned in the veld on its way
up to the Lake. A Dutch transport-rider with his family was
accom])anying the waggon. I liad a short yarn and a eii]:) of coffee
with the Dutchman and his wife, and before leaving they gave
us some bread to take along with us. Hospitality is the lirst rule
of the veld. We rode on till noon, when we off-saddled for a short
while to rest the horses. We were now well in the desert and
riding through tliis was most monotonous ; never a change
326
ox PIORSEBACK THROUGH THE DESERT
from the thick bush and heavy sand that stretched for miles
aromid. At sundown we reached the LotUiakanc well and there
rested, makin;^ a short meal of "roaster-cookies" and coffee.
Bcin^ now out of the fever zone and in the cold, clear air of the
Kalahari, I suffered almost daily from attacks of fever, which,
though not of a very severe nature, were yet quite sufHcient
to make me feel very much below par. A hollow tooth also gave
me periodical twinges. Altogether I was far from happy.
We had now covered seventy miles. I managed to get a wash
at the well by filling up the cattle-trough with the well-water.
Resting during the forepart of the next day, we saddled up in the
afternoon and rode without a break to the well at Ditawane,
where we camped for that night. We were riding as much as
possible during the night in order to save the horses. The nights
were quite chilly after the heat of the river zone. In the after-
noon we saddled up and resumed our ride, though after two
hours in the saddle I was compelled to dismount, fever coming
on suddenly. To make up for lost time on the fifth day we
rode steadily from sunrise for eight hours, only off-saddling
once to graze the horses. My native, though a very slightly
built man, possessed a vast amount of endurance, a stretch of
twelve hours in tlie saddle being to him quite an ordinary thing ;
to me it was by no means so. At times I felt so weary that I could
have almost fallen out of the saddle, as fever had almost com-
pletely sapped my energy. The monotony, too, of the veld was
deadly.
When near the Mukarane Pan we met some waggons trekking
up to the Lake, accompanied by two young traders bound for
the interior. .Meeting them was a pleasant break in the ride.
A chat, a few nips of brandy, and a couple of cigarettes were
more than welcome. We camped by the vlei for the night.
There was plenty of water in it, but it was as muddy as it could
possibly l)c. We had to drink it, however, and vrith coffee it
■went down all right. From this pan there were yet sixt\- miles
to be covered before our destination was reached. I ate very
little — too little — on this trip, not more than two or three
327
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
" roaster-cookies " in a day. I did not feel hungry in the least,
but I should have eaten more ; as it was, I was simply living on
my reserve strength — as I found out too late wlien I had over-
drawn U})on it. We reached ]\Iomongwe well by noon on the
sixth day, after a long period in the saddle, made a short
stay by the well and were in the saddle again till sundown,
passing Kolokome and dismounting some miles beyond. Since
noon it had rained steadily, so we had wrapped our blankets
around us to keep out the wet. After a rest for an hour or two
it was my intention to ride on through the night so as to reach
Serowe by sunrise. It was, however, a case of Vhomme -propose,
Dieu dispose ; for after dismounting I was seized with a
very sharp attack of fever and dysentery.
I lay by the hre whilst it rained steadily, racked with fever.
Severe vomiting and other distressing symptoms followed and
I soon saw it was out of the question to think of riding on tliat
niglit. I had eaten nothing all that day, and had had only
muddy water with coffee to drink. I can recall very easily tliat
night- — my la^t on the veld ! The steadily pouring rain drenched
me as I lay shivering by the smouldering fire tliat burned with
difficulty on the sodden ground : the two horses tethered to
a neighbouring tree huddled together to seek comfort one
from the other ; and my native sat gloomily beside the fire, never
moving from his cramped position save to hand me a cup of
muddy water or to stir the almost quenclicd-out embers. It was
indeed a miserable night — and yet one I would willingly live
again as ])art of the free and open life on the wide African
veld.
I woke at dawn after a fitful rest to find my native and hor-e
gone and a strange native by the fii'e. I learnt from him tliat
my boy liad taken fi-ight at my condition and liad ridden on to
Serowe for assistance.
Thei'e was notliing for me to do l^ut wait. At about ten o'clock.
howe\'er. mv mare strayc^l back — the wise little animal. I
felt we;d<:. but frver had left me. I saddled uj:). but unfortunately
had to j:)aek all my boy's kit in addition to my own on the one
328
ox IIOT^SEBACK TIIROITGII THE DESERT
]iorse. The poor animal was, like its rider, about done. We
jogovd alone at an amble, i-eaohing Sokoswe by noon. After a
short rest I rode on till late in the afternoon, when I met the
distriet surgeon coming along in a Cape cart drawn at good
sj)ce(l by a span of mules. The genial doctor and I shook hands
lieartily. He was agreeably svu'prised not to find me in such a
deplorable condition as he had been led to expect by my native,
who, it seemed, on his arrival at the stadt, had imparted to
Chief Khama the brief information that there was a white man
dying on the veld ; hence the doctor had come out post-haste
with the idea that he was going to bury a corpse. Instead he
only found a miserably wet-looking object, a bit white about the
gills, riding a tired little mare.
I finished the remaining seven miles in comparative comfort,
sitting in the Cape cart beside the doctor, who regaled me with
all the latest news of Serowe. I heard nothing good about the
expedition with wliich I was connected. It was dark when we
reached the town. I spent three days in the stadt. residing with
the hospitable doctor, during which time I did my best to make
some satisfactory arrangement for the natives left behind.
I found the state of affairs in connection with our expedition
even worse than I had expected. Having straightened mattei-s
a Httle. I left the stadt and rode the remaining forty miles to
Pnlapye, Within three days, after ten months on the veld, I
was slcopinrr — uncomfortably — in a soft bed in Johannesburg.
CHAPTER XII
IS THE EAST CALLING OR TITE WEST DRIVING ?
A FEW extracts from a letter to my brother in England
give a small insight into my doings after my return
from Ngamiland, during the few weeks prior to my
sailing from Africa to the Far East :
Durban, Natal,
20th July 1911.
"My dear Harold, — To-morrow I sail for Japan. Before,
however, bringing you to this date I will give you some idea
as to how I have been spending my time since I returned
from Central Africa in February last.
"As I fully expected, my reception by the promoters of the
expedition with which I was connected was hardly what you
would call gushing. Persoiially I couldn't blame them, for if I
had wasted some four thousand pounds in a venture I shouldn't
go out of my way to welcome with open arms one who had
assisted in the fruitless expenditure. I received fifty pounds for
my ten months' work and had perforce to be satisfied. Fever,
fifty pounds, and Experience were all I got for that trip. Well,
so much for that fruitless attempt to wrest success from Fate —
just one more failure, and what is it among so many ?
"For about a month after my return I did nothing much,
except pay a few bills I had left beliind in Johannesburg and
vainly attempt to dispose of nt a pj-ofit some tiger and lion skins
I had bi'ouglit down fj-om the lake. I had numerous ii-ons in the
fire, all of which melted, leaving behind only a clinker mass of
Depression and Disappointment !
There seemed then no alternative before me but io return
33c
IS EAST CALLING OR WEST DRIVING?
to the mines. I was, however, by no means anxious to resume
underground mining, as my state of health was jiot good
enough. Malaria and mine dust don't mix well. The worst thing
about malarial fever is that one suffers from it worse when one
is out of the fever zone. For the first two months after my
return to the Transvaal every ten days regularly saw me down
to it for a few hours ; it is slackening off now by dint of quinine
and sundry whiskies and sodas. Further, I was not inclined,
after weeks in the open veld, to live again the four-grey-walls-
and-dirty-ceiling life in a mine room. It's too much of a good
thing ! Wlien parsons talk of the drinking habits of Rand miners
they don't understand. Let them live their days in a single room
year after year, and they would soon find drinking was about
the only hobby worth taking up seriously.
'• Up to the date of my departure from Johannesburg I was a
regular subscriber, or perhaps I ought to say a regular ower, to
the Public Library and did quite a little reading whilst out of a
job. The ' Soul of the People ' has decided me to return to the
East. During the nights on the Kalahari when the smoke of the
camp fire wafted the smell of burning wood into my face, I used
to spend hours recalling scenes of Japan. So I'm going back.
In this decision of mine I don't know whether I am answering
the Call of the East, or obeying the dictates of Fate which, in
the shape of adverse circumstances, is driving me from the
West. Is the East calling or the West driving ? I know not ;
I feel like a piece of flotsam floating about with any chance
ciurent diverting its course. It is well over two years since I
arrived in this country and my last state is worse than the first
as regards material results ; and isn't that about the only
criterion the world has to-day with which to gauge Success ?
I don't kick, however, against Africa ; there's many a worse
country than this and many a worse town than Johaimesburg.
•' I have spent many nights lately at the Anglo-Austrian cafe,
and appreciated very much the music after months on the
veld. The fair attendants of the cafe are still as haughty as ever,
though I was sorry to find several old faces missing. Life on the
331
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Rand jogs along in the usual way. The manager of the G
mine and half his staff all got sacked the other day. The expenses
were too high, owing to the mine having been badly worked for
years. As in bridge, when in doubt you play trumps ; so in Rand
mining — when in doubt {i.e. when the mine does not pay) you
saek the manager and his staff. It is quite simple !
" I am enclosing you a literary ebullition, which represents the
experiences of your aristocratic brother during the months of
]\Iay and June when he was running a bottle store in Johannes-
burg, During -May I was learning the job under the instructions
of the manager — and the job wanted some learning I can assure
you. During June I was alone in my glory— a full-fledged bottle-
store keeper !
" In the very unlikely case of you not being aware as to what
a bottle store is in this country I will tell you. In other words, it
is a wholesale and retail wine shop^ — no drinks allowed on the
premises, barring, of course, those of the manager and his thirsty
f rieiids, and a few ' bums,' such as some of the members of the
C.I.D., which, being interpreted, means the Criminal Invent!
no, I mean — Investigation Department. The job of running a
large bottle store gives one a pretty good insight into the inorals,
or lack of them, of the man and woman of the town. One becomes
a good judge of liuman nature. I tru>tcd many a hard-looking
case in my bottle store for a bottle of whisky, and very seldom
was my trust misplaced ; but I found the bulk of the respectable
women, or, in other words, the well-dressed ones, and school-
masters in Johannesburg were amongst tliosc I could not trust
—and, of coui'se, Australians.^ Women as a rule seem to have a
pretty warj^cd sense of honour. The avei'age woman will cheat
at caj'ds witli as much readiness as slie will do you down for
a ' tiekey ' in yoiu' bottle stoj'e. Of course, if you suggest that
they are dislionourable they are highly indignant. 1 recall as I
am writing an instance of a glib-n)outhed lady coming into my
' I refer to the Australian one rubs shoulders with in Africa and in other
parts of the world. Xol having been to Australia, it is unnecessary for me
to say that I make no reference to the real Australian.
IS EAST CALLING OPv AVEST DIIIVIXG ?
store one morning, smiling sweetly, doubtless thinking easily to
deeeive the guileless-looking youth behind the counter. ' Oh !
good-morning ! Will you trust me for a lx)tt]e of whisky ? '
' No ! I won't ; you owe me sixpence,' was my abrupt retort.
]\Iy memory is pretty retentive. A storm of indignant protests
I cut short by remarking, ' I will let you off your sixpence, but
I will not trust you for a bottle of whisky. Good-morning.'
'■ One unsavoury business into which I obtained an insight was
the Illicit Liquor Traffic — i.e. selling liquor to the natives. Fortun-
ately my store was owned by a clean firm which did not cater
for such a business, but you cannot keep clear of it. This illicit
business is chiefly in the liands of the low whites of the town —
cliiefly low Dutchmen, and a few ex-C.I.D. men. The Kafirs on
the mines are only allowed Kafir beer, which is quite a refresh-
ing drink, especially on a hot day on tlic veld ; no other intoxi-
cating liquors are allowed. Hence this flourishing traffic ! That
this illicit liquor business is proiitable one can easily conclude
from the fact that when a man is caught at the game and gets
six months' imprisonment^ — ^or, as he terms it, goes on the
Continent for six months — there are many to fill his tempor-
arily vacated post. The iniquitous and despicable system of
' trapping ' is much in vogue on the Rand. The chief result of
this system apparently is the periodical capture of some poor
ignorant man or woman, and in not a few cases that of a poor
imiocent man or woman. This ' trap ' system suppoj-ts a crowd
of hirelings, recruited from the ' bums ' and ' deadouts ' of the
town, quite a few of whom, one concludes, take a hand in tlic
gajnc themselves. The chief occupation of the C.l.U. liquor
'tecs, so far as ]ny little experience went, seemed to be tluit of
supporting lamp-posts, ostensibly engaged in watching a bottle
store, and that of cashing sundry open cheques for tliirty
shillings or two pounds, of the origin of which it were better
not to inquire.
" Large sums of money are spent on drink on the Rand. 1 used
to take in easfi over the countei' as nmch as seven or eight
hundred pounds in a month, quite apart from two or three
333
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
hundred pounds' worth of family orders. Seventy pounds on a
Saturday was by no means an unusual sum. By this I don't
necessarily infer that the Randite is an excessive drinker — I
don't think he is — so much as to give you an idea how densely
populated is the mining world of the Transvaal.
" My literary outburst is headed :
" Sidelights in a Bottle Stoee
" pi. stands for me: L.C. stands for 'lady' customer: G.C.
(not J.C.) for 'gentleman'' customer.)
" 31. {disturbed whilst having his early morning drink). — Good-
moming ! [Sotto voce) Confound you !
"L.C. — A bottle of sherry, please — Is. 3d. [sotto L'oce)— for
cooking purposes.
'■'■Exit ' Lady ' idth sherry for ' cooking purposes ' — less Is, 3d.
Enter ' Gentleman ' from cab-rank,
"M. [gazing absent-mindedly at an absintJie bottle). — Ah!
Good-morning, old sport !
'•'G.C. [briefly). —The usual.
'OI.— Gin, ch?
" G.C. — Sis, man ; don't you know yet what I want ? A half-
flask of Johnny Walker, of course.
"M. [handing flask of precious Scotch). — You owemeatickey
from last week — shall I take it out of this ? Well, all right ! don't
forget it !
" Exit ' Gentleman ' to cab-rank. ^1 tap is heard at the back door.
]M. takes a flask of ichisky, disappears, and shortly returns
with 2s. Gd.
'■\1 happy policeman is seen later with a smile on Jiis face in
Market Square. Enter ' Lady ' : face familiar, slightly
flushed.
"L.C. — A bottle of ^bei'i'v. please — Is. 3d. [sotto voce) — for
cooking puipu.^c:b.
''Exit ■ Lauv " with 6hci'ry'--lc6S 1-.. 3d.
->J4
IS EAST CALLING OR WEST DRIVING ?
" Enters ' bum ' ; is recognised as such ; wants a free drink ; doesnH
get it — exit cursing eloquently.
'' Enter ' stiff ' ; is not recognised as an illicit Dop buyer. Re-
ceives six bottles of ' Doj) ' brandy. Cash and lengthy
explanation of birthday-party on a farm duly received.
''Enter Schoolmaster. M. gathers together his wits: he knows
this tribe.
" G.C. — Bottle of Dewar's — Imperial — please. I will look in
later and pay.
"M. (aside). — Oh ! will you ! I don't think you will ! (Aloud)
I am sorry I have no authority to give credit.
" G.C. (indignantly). — Oh ! But, I say, Mr B laiows me
well : I have often purchased from him.
"jNI. (aside).- — ^I am quite sure B does know you well — a
little too well. (Aloud and very suavely) Quite so !
" G.C. (producing 6s. 6d.). — It will be a longtime before I come
here again.
"jNI. (wrapping up bottle, after putting the coin into the till). —
Quite so !
''Exit Schoolmaster with whisky to his duty of imparting
a moral training to the youths of the town.
"Enter another G.C. who, however, thinks he is J.C.
" G.C. (loftily). — Ah. ! send the usual round.
" jM. (wondering who the deuce the bounder 25).— Certainly — and
what did you say your name was ?
" G.C. — Oh ! Ah ! Brown, Mistah Pondesbury Brown.
"jM. (cvith continued tact). — Ah ! Yes, quite ! — and what — did
you say your address was ?
" G.C.--Oh ! Ah ! 50 Stanley Mansions. Ah !
•'M. — Quite ! — ^and what — did you say you wanted ?
"G.C. (witJi a look of unutterable weariness). — Oh ! Ah ! six
bottles of beali !
"M. (with a resigned sort of expression). — Heavens! Oh!
All right !
'•Exit Mistah. Pondesbury Brown to smash the girls in Vritchard
Street.
655
A wanderp:r's trail
" After a short interval, during which time i\I. samples the stock
and turns azcay a ' coloured ' gentleman who swears he is a
Portuguese, Enter L.C., a regular ' gin- customer.'
"M. — Good-moming ! Half ?
'•L.C.— Yes, please. He! He! {Laugh.) You are beginning lo
know nie now. Ah ! I reinenibei' '\^■}len my poor husband . . .
{Here ensues a lengthy conversation on the merits and demerits oj
the departed husband: during i^hich jM. periodically remarks
" Quite ! " thereby saving mucli energy.) Exit the " gin " lady,
less 2s. 6d.
"Enter L.C. — rather a nice girl! M. looks interesled.
•'L.C. {vivaciously). — Six bottles of champagne, please. Will
you seiid them round to my flat ? Soon ? {With a sweet smile.)
Put them down to ]Mr Softhead, won't you ; he gave instructions,
didn't he ?
'• 31. {discreetly). — Oh yes, that is so ! Well, did }'Ou win at the
races on Saturday ? . . . {Here follows a purely private conversation,
unfortunately disturbed by the Is. 3d. sherry 'Lauy' returning—
her third visit !)
''Exit the friend of Mr Softhead, carefully avoiding the sherry
' Lady.'
'•L.C {very flushed and slightly unsteady ; holds firmly to the
counter for support and speaks distinctly hoarse). — A bottle of
shei'ry, please. One sh-sh-shilling and tic-tickey. {With distinct
emphasis.) For cooking ])ui'poscs ! {And indignantly) I wish they
would fetch it foi' themselves.
" Exit good danw, still vainly endeavouring to appear sober.
''Enter 3L'.v brother, zcho takes a great interest in his brother's
work ; more so t/ian he has ever done before. lie ivatchcs with
an amused smile his younger brother struggling to make three
bottles of beer apjjcar in the guise of a piano ! This in accord-
(uicc -with the eomi/iands of the dif-tinguished I-.C. standing
by, who ' really canl. be seen, carrying beah. ! donciier
knozc'
''Seven, o'cloch' strikes ! AL h)cks his cash uj) : ir fuses admittance
to a drunken C.l.D. and a " tojj ' ; has a farewell drink
IS EAST CALLING OR WEST DRIVING ?
be j ore shutting up the store, and departs to ' BlacJdngs ' for
his dinner.
" Having concluded this literary effort, now for a few words
about my doings after leaving the store.
" I left Johannesburg early in July for Durban, arriving there
after a twenty-four hours' journey. The train was full to over-
flowing with merry Randites bound for a seaside trip to Durban,
which is to-day the Brighton of Africa. I took, therefore, a
' second ' ticket, tipped the guard a half-sovereign, and travelled
' first '^ — thereby saving a pound. Experience again ! Just one
solitary pal saw me off. Him I met quite by accident during the
afternoon in Eloff Street, so I remarked casually : ' Come and
have a farewell drink.' ' Whither bound ? ' he asked. ' China,'
1 briefly replied. He gazed at me for a moment, thinking I was
joking ; but as he knew something about my former pilgrimages
he slowly digested the information and accompanied me to have
a drink. After a short chat I remarked : ' I must be leaving you
now as I want to pack my things ; my train leaves at seven
to-night.' ]My companion gazed at me for a. moment, then slowly
replied : ' Of all the coolest beggars I have ever met you are
the limit ! You first casually inform me that you are leaving
for China to-night, and now — it's past four — you say you must
start to pack. Anyone would think you were bound for a week-
end trip instead of to the opposite corner of the globe.' I
suppose to otlicrs it would seem a big proposition ; but to mc,
now, it's nothing mucli more than a trip to Krugcrsdorp ; I am
so used to it.
" My capital for this trip is just fifty pounds. I am going first
to India, as I liave half an idea I might get the opportunity to
anchor there, thougli I ' bank ' on nothing now. It will cost
me twenty pounds to get as far as India ; there is, unfortunately,
Tio opportunity to work my way across. I am due in Japan —
weil, \\\\Qn I get there ! ^ly idea, if nothijig turns up on the way,
is to resume teaching in Tokio and do there also a bit of writing ;
1 might go to the length of writing a book on my wanderings if
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
my depleted stock of energy does not completely evaporate
before. It should be an object lesson to the yomig man of the
Western world never to leave the beaten path of Life. When I
was last in Japan I was held up to the young men of Nippon as
an object lesson of enterprise — an object lesson to be copied ;
to-day I very much doubt whether such would be the case.
" It was only with the greatest difhculty I could obtain a room
when I reached Durban, so packed to overflowing was this
seaside town. Its surf -bathing and lovely beach yearly attract
thousands of jaded .Johanncsljurgers. On the night of my arrival
I visited nearly every hotel in the town before I got a bed.
Such a conversation as this was quite usual : ' Any rooms ? '
' No ! sorry, full up ! ' I v/ould then continue : ' Oil ! I am not
particular; any shakedown will do?' 'My dear sir,' would
be the weary reply, ' there are already three men on the billiard
table and on.c on eacli bath ; not an inch of room is there on the
stoep — so where can I put you ? ' Tlie ten days here have been
most delightful and I am feeling all the better for the change.
" Yesterday I spent an enjoyable day at the whaling station,
and caught sight of about three huge sharks hacking away
at a whale close by the slipway. One — a little too bold — got
harpooned ; and, by Jove ! he took some killing. All the bathing
here is in enclosed areas as the sea is infested with sharks ; but
it is nevertheless most delightful.
"You mustn't, however, regard Durban as merely a seaside
resort for Johannesburg ; for it is quite a busy seaport. Coaling
is a big feature, many tramps putting in here for supplies.
Durban will coal a big tramp with a couple of thousand tons in
the space of a few hours.
'•Rickshaws drawn by weirdly-painted and iiorned Zulus arc
much in evidence in the streets, but, in my mind, noi:ie save a
Japanese knows how to run in a rickshaw properly.
'■The colony of Natal is the soundest colony of the Union, at
least from an economic point of view. It is not like the one-
industricd Tjanvsaal, as many profitable industries are yearly
springing into importance. Sugar, tea (rotten stuff at present),
IS EAST CALLI]NG OR WEST DRIVING ?
tobacco (Natal cigars are quite good), fruit and the wattle
(for tanning purposes) are just a few of the products of Natal
to-day. I went the other day to an agricultural show and it was
well worth a visit, as it gave one a good idea of the agricultural
possibilities of this colony.
" Well, brother mine, I bid you a long farewell. I have not the
faintest idea where I shall be in six month's time ; and enire
nous I don't much care. I am getting very tired of it all ; of
being kicked around and of being made a football of by Fate.
But it is the Aftermath of Wanderlust. Don't you stir from the
cage ; beat your wings against the bars rather than fly away !
Yours ever,
"Arthur."
And this last is my advice to the young and restless reader.
339
CHAPTER XIII
UP THE EAST AFRICAN COAST TO ZANZIBAR
AT noon on tlie 21st ol July the s.s. Somali steamed across
the bar of Durban Harbour for India. I was the only
through passenger; the others wei'e mostly bomid for
Delagoa Bay and Beira ; most of them were mining men or
traders going up to Rhodesia. We were a cheerful ])arty, all of us
having seen a good bit of the world and incidentally nmch of the
hard side of it ; so we got on famously together.
^Ve kept the Natal coast in sight all that day and the day
following, till towards evening British coastland gave place
to that of Portuguese East Africa. Wc sighted Cape Inyak by
sundown aiid entered Delagoa Bay when it was dai'k, anchoiing
late in the evcniiig off the town of Lourenyo ^[arqucs. From our
ship we could hear faintly the strains of the baud playii\g on
the plaza, the lights of which looked ^'c)'y pictuicsque iji tlie
distance.
The following day a smaU party oJ' us weiit asiioic to visit
the town, which at the time of our \isit was gaily decorated, the
gahi season being on. Lourcn^o Marques possesses one of the
hncst harboui'.s in Afiica, the anchoi'agc of Delagoa Bay extciid-
ino; for a length of seven uiih's, witJi widtli nearlv one mile.
Tlie climate of Delagoa Jiay is better tlian it used to he a
decade or two back, owing to the extensive diaijiage of the town's
environs ; but there is still room for improvement. Our \\s\i w as
not many months aftei' the declaration of the Portuguese Re-
public, and we caught sight of the new Hag. The town ot Loiireuyo
Marcjues is ty})ieally Portuguese -broad roads shaded \)\ luws
of t I'ces. \\iiite fiieaded buildings of rather pretentious design,
and un the sea front tlie iiK;\itable plaza with its bandstand.
J4W
UP THE EAST AFRICAN COAST TO ZANZIBAR
We sailed at noon for our next port of call — Inhambane — and
sio'hted Cape Burra within twenty-fom- hours of our departure,
the coast all the way up being low, sandy and barren in appear-
ance. Shortly after noon the pilot of the port, a native, boarded
us, took charge and handled the ship in a most skilful manner.
Tlic passage into the harbour of Inhambane is very difficult
to navigate, owing to a continually shifting sand-bar at the
entrance ; to enter it by night would be to court disaster. The
ship had to make several twists and turns to avoid the mud-
banks before the deep-water channel, marked by white beacons,
was reached. Entering, we sighted two dead whales moored to a
buoy, and I learnt there was a small whaling station at this port.
The bay was picturesque, its shining waters being dotted with
the white sails of many coasting dhows. Just before sunset we
came in sight of the little town of Inhambane, which was com-
pletely hidden from us when we were outside the bar. It looked
vci-y pretty in the rays of the setting sun : the red-tiled houses,
white-fronted, nestling amidst thick groves of green waving
palms and other ti'opical vegetation, made an attractive picture.
A pier three hundred feet in length jutted out from the shore,
but the water was far too shallow to permit any deep-sea ship
to come alongside ; in fact at low tide there remained only a
foot or two. One other steamer and a small sailing ship lay at
anchor off the toAvn, and during the following day a Portuguese
steamer arrived from the north and shipped a batch of coolies for
the mines in the Transvaal. The districts round Inhambane
were denseh' populated, as is also the district of Gazaland to
the south ; both supply a large number of natives for the Rand.
A few of us " did " the little town the next day. At least we
roamed round the small settlement and visited the native loca-
tions, till the heat and the smell drove us on board again. We all
decided that Inhambane at a distance was infinitely preferable
to Inliambane at close quarters. The pretentious style of archi-
tecture and the dilatoriness in the officials were typically Portu-
guese. It took us ovei- one hour to buy a few postage stamps for
our mail, and in the end some of us got stamps for nothing, so
341
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
confused was the Portuguese staff over the exchange of money.
Anyone might liave thought that we were the first party of
foreigners that had ever entered Inhambane with Enghsh coin.
Right beliind the town was a large nabivc location, peopled by
the Myamba tribe. Their little huts were erected amidst waving
palms, and but for the insanitary conditions of the location and
the consequent unhealthy smell one would have appreciated
the picturesqueness of the scene. In the intense heat, however,
we were only too glad to get away and seek a cafe, where we
ordered tea — ^to the open disgust of the proprietor ! It was then
about eleven o'clock, and we had the opportunity of watching
the Portuguese residents stroll in for breakfast. Half-castes of
all shades were largely noticeable, I think one of the reasons
that the Portuguese will never be very successful in maintaining
their prestige in their African colonies is their free intercourse
with the native, the Portuguese official making no attempt to
pi'eserve the purity of his race.
Having finished our refreslmient, we took a short stroll along
the front before returning to the ship. We visited an old Arab
temple, which recalled to my mind memories of the once-
powerful race that formerly controlled most of the trade of this
coast. Inhambane is one of the oldest established settlements of
the Portuguese in the Mozambique district. Tlic Portuguese
arrived on tliis coast, famed for gold, as early as 1497, and drove
out the Arabs. The first fort was erected in Mozambique Island
in 1508, and the town of Mozambique was afterwards made the
capital of the province. Portuguese East Africa is now divided
for administration purposes into two separate districts — Mozam-
bique disti'iet in tlio north, and that of Lourenco Marques in the
south, which includes the territory of Inhambane.
We luid to wait for the tide before we could leave, as much of
the hay at low water consisted of exposed mud-ljanks which
smelt most abominably in the heat of tlie day. Inhambane
district is considered nevertheless to be the healthiest in the
colony ; it doesn't say much for tlie rest !
Late in the ofternooTi we got away and steamed north. All
342
UP THE EAST AFRICAN COAST TO ZANZIBAR
the day following we kept the mainland in sight ; it was still
low, sandy and baven in appearance. The lights of Beira
showed up by evening and we anchored outside this port at
midnight. At daybreak we steamed into the harbour.
Beira has ahead unlimited prospects. A few years should see
it the foremost port of Africa. Beira owes much to its geo-
graphical position ; for it is the port of entry for North Rhodesia
and will soon be for the copper mines of Katanga, in Belgian
Congo ; it also taps the Portuguese territory of Manicaland.
Further, it will not be long before it is the port of British
Central Africa. But, unfortunately, Beira is in the possession
of one of the most dilatory nations of the world. Proof of this
was given us not long after the Somali dropped her anchor.
It appeared that a few motor launches had the monopoly of
conveying passengers between the shore and the vessels lying
in the harbour, so I experienced the greatest difficulty in
regaining my ship at night-time after having spent the day
ashore, as not a launch was to be seen and no other craft was
permitted to carry any passengers. This fact alone illustrated
to me the methods that controlled the port.
The name of Beira means " sand " and the town is in no way
misnamed. I heard Beira termed a place of "tin roofs and
sand " ; and really one has not much to add to tliis in the way
of description. The roads are a foot deep in sand, on which it is
impossible to walk for any length of time ; the chief way the
residents move about is by the rather unique method of sitting
in a little trolley which runs on light rails, pushed along by
Kafirs. In appearance the little trolley is as like a garden seat
on wheels as is possible. Three of us got into one of these
conveyances — a tight squeeze ! — and were propelled hy one
native ; once the car was on the move little effort was neces-
sary to keep it going. For a progressive and go-ahead town like
Beira this method seems rather primitive ; yet it is rather hard
to suggest a better substitute as the streets are too narrow for
trams. The outskirts of the town are pretty — at least in contrast
with the town itself. The palm, which always seems to thrive
343
A WAXDERER'S TRAIL
M-ell on sand}' soil, is very conspicuous. But Beira is the bleakest
place on the East African coast. A golf-course and a small
sti'ctcli of beach allow the residents some little relaxation,
though Beira is far from being, as some would suggest, the
health and holiday resort for jaded Rhodesians.
Our passengers left the ship here on their way to Rhodesia,
and I wos left solitary on board. In tlie company, however, of
the extremely well-read and cultured Gei-man captoin I passed
many pleasant hours and never felt time Jiang lieavily on mv
hands. He possessed a splendid knowledge ol the English
language, as did nearly every other officer on })oard ; iiideed
his knowledge of our English classics was as deep as mv
acquaintance with German writei's was shallow.
Leaving Beira on the afternoon of the 28t]i v/c passed Chinde
during the night. This latter port is too shallow to admit deep-
sea ships, so the German East African line lias a small steamer
on the station running to and fro from Beij'a witli passengers
and mail, and specially built to cross the bai'. Chinde l< tlie
present seaport for British Central Africa, but wlW soon be
superseded by Beira.
On tlie 31st we sighted the island of ^Mozambique, on whieli is
situated the town of tliat name, the former capital of Portuguese
East Africa. Since the departure of tlie Governor-General for
Delagoa Bay the trade of ^Mozambique lias diminished, and
tlie island offers but small inducement to steamers to call.
From a historical point of view the island and town are intei'cst-
ing, as the palace is nearly three hundred yeai's old, whilst tlie
Fort of Ft Sebastian is older still. Steaming north, still skirting
the land, ^^•e })assed the island of Ibo, anothei' small Portuguese
settlement off the coast. Portuguese coastland tlien gave place
to the shores of German East Africa, tlie River Ptoviiiua lieing
the bouudai}- between the two territories. After live days'
steamiiig from Beira we sighted tlie island of Zanzibar, ojf v.'hich
we anchoi'cd on the evening of the .3rd.
The island of Zanziliarlies about lifteen miles off the mainland,
and is about twenty-seven miles at its broadest part. Numerous
344
UP THE EAST AFRICAN COAST TO ZANZIBAR
coral islands and reefs (at some future date to grow into coral
islands) dot the bay on all sides. The town lies on the west side of
the island ; and its f '^ontage of white houses and public buildings,
conspicuous among which is the Sultan's palace, makes an
imposing picture. Numerous Arab dhows, flying many different
flags, the red flag of the Sultan being especially noticeable, lie
along the beach. A large number of the buildings are painted
yellow to signify that they are the property of the Sultan, or, as
I revise these lines, of the late Sultan. ^
Since 1890 the island of Zanzibar and that of Pemba have
been under British protection. That year saw the abolition of
slaveiy — a distinctly doubtful blessing for the clove trade of
the island. In 1896 the bombardment of the town took place
as the I'esult of an attempt to usurp the Sultan's throne. The
top of the Sultan's gunboat, sunk during the action, is still
visible in the bay off the town.
The mainstay of the island is the cultivation of cloves.
Ninety per cent, of the world's supply comes from the islands
of Zanzibar and Pemba. In the clove industry to-day the one
great handicap is the scarcity and irregularity of the supply of
native labour. The mainland which at one time made up the
labour deficiency of Zanzibar Island now needs most of its
labour for its own industries. Though the island is well supplied
with natives (the last census returning two hundred and fifty
tliousaiid ]ieople ]'esident in the island, of whom the greater
part are Swahilis), the drudgery of the work of picking the
cloves, coupled with the general laziness of the native, result
in a gi'eat shortage of lal^our in the plantations ; and this means
that a good percentage of the crop is never gatliered in. It is not
therefore to be wondered at that many Arab owners lament
the jtassing away of the " good old slave days." IMany of the
],)la!)tations, formerly owned by wealthy Arabs, are now in the
liaiids of Indians ; and in the case of those that are still owned
})y the Arabs the cr()})s are in many instances mortgaged far
ahead. Indians, chiefly Banyans and Goanese, are gathei'ing a
^ Zanzibar was taken over by the Colonial Office in July 1913-
345
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
great deal of the trade of the island in their hands ; and there
is to-day an Indian bazaar in Zanzibar town that would not
disgraee a large city in India.
The bulk of the cloves grown on the island of Pemba goes to
the home and continental markets, together with a good deal of
the Zanzibar crop ; the balance is shipped to Bombay.
Of the many foreign hotels that used to flourish in Zanzibar
a decade ago but one remains to-day. Further, most of the old
established Anglo-Indian houses, which formerly had branches
in the island, have closed them, owing to the decline in the
island's trade. Zanzibar used to be the distributing centre for all
the trade of this part of the African coast, but the growth on the
mainland of the ports of Mombasa and Dar-es-Salaam, combined
with other causes, have greatly decreased its trade.
I paid a visit to Bu-Bu-Bu, where many of the above planta-
tions are ; it is connected by rail with the town of Zanzibar.
The line v/as laid down by an American company, which also
controls the electric lighting of the town. A little Baldwin
engine, with a bell clanging furiously, was attached to the train.
The line first runs along the front, overlooking tlic bay and the
shipping ; then througli the mai'kct street, which is so narrow
that a gorilla in the train could j'cach out and pick any article
from off the little sjiops tliat line either side. I cauglit sight of all
sorts of goods, f lom calico print to earthenwai'e pots, from coral
beads to bundles of evil-smelling copra, displayed for sale. We
passed by tailors sewing industriously, barbers diligently
shaving lieads, convicts in yellow garb with clanking leg-irons
working resigncdl}' in tlu; streets. All sorts of humanity were
jabbering, spitting, gesticulating and gossiping !
After the train had taken us through the crowded market we
skirted the edge of tiie island, which gave us an uninterrupted
view of the sweep of blue sea dotted with white sails. On tJie
other side were to Ije seen tliick groves of ])alms and banyan
trees with thatched native huts scattered here and there.
Solitary and melancholy camels stood motionless on the white
sandy beach.
34^
UP THE EAST AFRICAN COAST TO ZANZIBAR
We passed numerous mosques and Indian temples, old Arab
houses and palaces in ruins — relics of the rSgime of a once-
powerful race ; over small coral-stone bridges which spanned
small streams, sliaded by groves of towering yet slender palms ;
beside small lagoons and long stretches of white beach, littered
with craft of all kinds. Stopping here, stopping there, taking on
black-garbed Mohammedans, white-gowned Swahilis with red
fcz-caps, dark-visaged Arabs — all spitting betel-nut juice, we
eventually reached the clove plantations.
The clove grows on large leafy trees, thirty feet or more in
height. A clove plantation is a small forest and a most sweet-
smelling one. Ten years is the age necessary for a tree to mature ;
then it bears its first crop. The average annual crop from each
tree is anywhere from five to ten pounds, though I was told by
one clove dealer that a few ti'ees yielded as much as one frasla
(35 lb.). Ladders are used on the big trees, the cloves being
plucked when ripe by men, women and children. The rate of
pay for gathering is so much per basket, which contains one
frasla' — the unit employed for commercial purposes. I should
think clove-picking Avould be one stage worse than sti'awberry
picking, especially under a Zanzibar sun.
A ram])le through the streets of old Zanzibar discloses many
curious and picturesque sights. The streets are the narrowest
I have ever seen ; indeed, so narrow that two President Tafts
would fuid it difficult to pass one another. A little cart, drawn
by a donkey or an ox, completely blocks the passages. The tall
houses, three or four storeys high, with sucli narrow streets,
gave me the impi-ession of Broadway, New York, with its sky-
scrapers. The narrow streets have one advantage : they shade
one from the intense glare of the tropical sun, and in them the
faint breeze is felt at its strongest. Coral stone is the brick of
Zanzibar. All the houses arc built of this material and painted
a dazzling white, whose glare, together with that of the white
coral roads, is very intense. Nearly all the buildings possess most
handsomely carved oak doors, heavily studded with brass knobs.
Courtyards — typically ]Moorish^ — with palms and other tropical
347
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
foliage look most refreshing to the sweltering passer-by- One
notices many Avindows barred. Through them one could just
get a glimpse of some artisan at work ; the sound of the silver-
smiths' hammers was unceasing. The Oriental and Ethiopian
showed no curiosity on meeting a European ; they gave the
visitor courteous salaams and greetings of yambo and passed on.
Perhaps one of the most interesting sights in the town is the
old Portuguese tower, a relic of the sixteenth century, which is
still staunch and strong. The outskirts of Zanzibar are very
attractive ; the soft green of the waving palms blends with the
rich tints of the banyan and orange trees, shading the open
spaces and little native huts.
34«
CHAPTER XIV
FROM ZANZIBAR TO BOMBAY
WE left Zanzibar on the evening oi' the 3rd as the sun
was setting and steamed north towards ^Mombasa.
Several Goanese passengers had joined the steamer,
most of them being on their way home to India on leave. We
sighted ^Mombasa at daybreak, the distance from Zanzibar being
only one hundred and forty miles, and anchored after breakfast
off the town, which lies on the east side of the island. Ships of too
heavy draught have to go round to the other side of the island
and anchor off the port of Kilindini, as the channel there is
nmch deeper. Navigators here need all their wits about them,
particularly when entering the eastern channel. A large freight
steamer piled up on the rocks testified to this ; her unfortunate
captain had taken too sharp a turn or had not allowed for the
strong set towards the shore.
Mombasa is the headquarters of the East African Protec-
torate Customs and the centre of nearly all the oversea trade of
the Protectorate. It is a commercial port of steadily increasing
importance, handling to-day most of the imports and exports
from the large stretches of territory in the interior, which
the Uganda Railway has done so much to open up. The
district of Nairobi, made familiar to the reading public by the
exploits of such distinguished hunters as Colonel Roosevelt and
son and ]\Ir Winston Churchill, is a territory increasing }'early
in value.
The native town of Mombasa is similar to thai of Zanzibar,
though smaller. It is built right on the edge of the coral shores of
the island, which rise sheer from the water. The town possesses
a famous fort — now used as a prison — where terrible lighting
349
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
took place in the sixteenth century between the Portuguese
and the Arabs. Through the courtesy of the lady matron I
was permitted to look over it. After passing over the draw-
bridge I entered the fort by way of the massive oak door studded
with iron ; over the doorway I read the inscription to the
effect that the fort was rebuilt by Don Frisco de Cabrena in
A.D. 1635. I viewed the dungeons, where in the good old days
the prisoners were dropped and kept three days without food or
water ; if alive after this persuasive treatment they were pro-
nounced innocent ! The old wells, where the inhabitants used
to g(;t their water during a siege, were aLo an interesting
sight. The view from the parapet and from the little look-out
towers was very fine — a clear stretch of blue sea on the one
side and on the other a lovely bird's-eye view of the little town
with its background of tropical verdure. The fort was built of
coral rock throughout, some of the walls being as thick as five
feet.
A stroll through the European section of ^Mombasa revealed
nothing of much interest. Here also I saw little trolley cars
similar to these used in Beira.
We left Mombasa after a short stay and steamed north,
skirting the African coast. On the following day I looked my last
on the shores of that great Continent. Shortly afterwards we ran
into the soutli-wT^t moji^ooji, which kept witli us till we reached
India. As we were " light-ship " we rolled a great deal. We had
only a few native passenger.s, chiefly for Goa in Portuguese
India. Siiiec the Xatal regulations with regard to the immigra-
tion of Indians into the colony have conic into force the xcyx
prolituble lJU^iness of eoolie-carrying has been lost to the ships
on the Indian run. Our deck passengers cooked their food oii
the deck, permanent galleys being erected in the weil-deeks
of the slii]) for the pur])ose. Curry and rice was tlieir staple
di.h.
Alter nine days' steaming, north and east, we sighted the
coast of India, and on the morning of the 13th we anchored off
No\'a Gua--tJu- eliie!' poi't of Portuguese India. We made only
J50
FROM ZANZIBAR TO BOMBAY
a short stay liere as wc had no cargo for this place, only the
few deck passengers from Zanzibar.
In tlie evening we headed for Bombay. By sundown of the
following day we anchored off that town, waiting for the tide
till midnight, when we docked ; a heavy monsoon squall bursting
over the harbour at that time made our entrance a matter of
no little risk.
To reach the business and European centre of Bombay from
the docks demands a gharry ride of half-an-hour, through a
section of the native part of the town. Numerous godowns and
docks are passed on the way, and ox-carts laden with all sorts
of produce, the coolie drivers steadily urging on their patient
steeds witli sundry prods. The business section of Bombay is
handsomely built ; its architecture would not disgrace any
European capital ; along its busy streets speed motor cars,
carriages and the hum.ble tikka-gharry. All is bustle and motion !
When one recalls the history of the town and island of Bombay,
of all the setbacks it had, the terrible scourges of fever and
sickness that periodically ravaged the settlement, it is hard
to believe that such a splendid city could grow from such
unpromising beginnings,
Bombay has many clubs, all of which can supply the thirsty
visitor with excellent " pegs " of whisky, and also many oppor-
tunities of beguiling his leisure-time in comfort. The colour line
is very rigidly adhered to in Indian clubs. It is just as essential
for the white race in India to preserve its caste as it is for the
Brahmin to preserve his. And it would be well if visitors in
India bore this fact more in mind.
A visitor strange to the ways of the East would be surprised
to learn the hours at which the European resident takes his
meals. lie finds the merchant, on rising at seven o'clock,
lias a choia hazri Ijrought to his bedside by his white-turbaned
servant, that he breakfasts at nine o'clock, and by ten is at his
office desk ; that lie will then '• tiffin," either at the club or at his
bungalow, at two o'clock ; and will leave his office at live, perhaps
later, (The busine-^^ man in India works ju.'^t as hard as he does
55^
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
in the London office.) He ^vill tlien have a light afternoon tea.
After a couple of hours at the club, where he may indulge in a
rubber of auction bridge, or a game or two of billiards, he will
dine. It will then be about nine o'clock. These hours may seem
unusual to the visitor, but if he has sense he will fmd them
eminently adapted to the life in India. In no country is it more
essential to live by the axiom, '' Do in Rome as Rome does,"
than it is in India.
There are some very pleasant drives round Bombay. During
a drive down Queen's Road one will meet many wealthy Indians,
chiefly Parsees, riding in open and closed carriages on the road
to Chowpatti, which leads up to the steep ascent of Malabar
Hill. After a drive along the Ridge the Hanging Gardens are
reached. Here a perfect view is obtained of the sliipping in the
harbour, with the numerous islands surrounding it, and the
magnificent sweep of Back Bay. Close by are the Parsee Towers
of Silence, into which you may enter if you arc inspired by an
ambition to say you have visited this famous burial-place whcji
you return to the bosom of your admiring family. Not possessing
the luxury of an admiring family, I did not enter, l)ut contented
myself with gazing at the wicked-looking vultures waiting for
their next meal. The\' I'cminded me very forcibl}' of their
brethren in Africa, which used to wait for our poor hordes to die.
Whilst in Bombay I confirmed the truth of Kipling's words :
" East is East and West is ^^'est, aiid never the twain shall
meet." I was sitting on the lawn of the Yaelit club listening to
the Ijand, when 1 noticed a devout 31oluunmedan carefully
place his rug, or rag. on the stoiie steps of the Apollo Bunder,
not a hundred }ards away from whei'e 1 was sittiiig, and tiu'ning
to the East begin to ])ray. To the tunc oi' " The (iirls of Gotten-
burg " he remained at his devotions engrossed in his ritu;)],
ol)livious of his surrc>undings.
My intention on my arrival in India had been to take train
lo Calcutta ; bul certain aii'arigemeiits into wJiieli 1 entrred
caused me to Diodify my plans soine\vliat. 1 now decided to
reach Calcutta w ithin a month's time ; and to do this I planned
j52
.A\ I \i ii \\ i;i\',,\i,. i\\
FROM ZANZIBAR TO BOMBAY
to travel round India by a coasting steamer. I spent in all a
fortnight in Bombay — a period made very pleasant by the
kindness and hospitality shown me by my host and those I met
in his company. In India I was indeed fortunate in meeting so
many who were ever anxious to smooth my path. In fact all
over the East it was the same.
A most considerate action on the part of the agents of the
British India Steamship Company gave me the opportunity of
acting in the capacity of assistant purser on their steamer,
Virawa, which was bound round the Malabar coast for Burma.
Such a welcome opportunity of saving my limited funds was
most gratefully accepted and appreciated. So with the good
wishes of my friends I boarded the old but comfortable steamer,
which sailed down south for Malabar on the evening of the
2Gth Auo-ust 1911.
353
CHAPTER X\'
DOWN THE MALABAR COAST
PRIOR to sailing all of u> on board had to undergo
medical inspection, as bubonic plague was prevalent
in Bombay. The natives underwent a more rigorous
examination than we. and their personal effects also were
fumigated. Our cargo, some two thousand five hundred tons,
chiefly consisted of small " bazaar " goods from Bombay
merchants for the various coast ports. The dock gates opened
for us towards midnight, when we steamed out on our southerly
voyage.
The south-west monsoon was blowing fairly hard as we got
into the open sea, bringing with it much rain and a moderate sea
on our beam. We kept the coast of India in sight all the day
following our departure ; the land for the most part was low
and sandy near the shore, whilst in the background high hills
stood out prominently. The sea at night-time was highly
phosphorescent and large white patches every now and then
caught the eye, making one think that the ship was in shoal
waters. These patches were small schools of fish (chiefly sardines)
swimming in the illuminated seas.
During the day we passed ^Mangalore, finding it closed to
shipping during the monsoon, owing to the heavy surf which
makes communication with the shore impossible. Mangalore
is the eliicf seaport of the South Kanara district, and during the
open season exports coffee (from the Coorg district), dried fish
and f'i ^li manure (chiefly tlie sardine) ; the manure is used
largely on the tea plantations of Ceylon. The German Basil
Missio]) lia\c- a tile I'aelory here, the clay in the red soil of the
neighbourhood -u|,)])lying excellent material for this industry.
J5^
DOWN THE MALABAR COAST
I noticed some of these Indian tiles on the East African Coast —
in Zanzibar and one or two other ports to the south. There
is a small interchange of commerce between that coast and
Malabar by means of the Arabian and Persian Gulf craft.
This evangelical mission was established on the Malabar
coast in 1816 and is worked in conjunction with several indus-
tries — the tile works in ]Mangalore and Cannanore, and the
cotton and weaving industries in Calicut. Down to a recent date
these industries were not profitable ; now that they are worked
independently small profits are being realised, going, of course,
to the mission.
On the morning of the 28th we anchored off Cannanore, which
is a rather more sheltered port, though in heavy monsoons
ships have to lie well out and wait for an abatement in the
weather before they can effect communication with the shore.
The coastland here is low, and the beach sandy and fringed
with waving palms. The green of these graceful palm-trees with
the white surf of the sea breaking on the beach affords a very
pretty sight.
The cargo from the ship was off-loaded into large wooden
dhows propelled by long oars, or sweeps, when the wind was
not sufficient to swell out the one large sail. The oars in use
were very peculiar in shape, being long bamboos with a wooden
pear-shaped attachment at the end — as near to a ping-pong
racket in appearance as possible.
When the cargo for this port was all discharged we took on
a few bags of dried fish and fish manure for Colombo. We sailed
in the evening for our next port of call — -Tellicherri — which lay
only ten miles to the south. The officers on the Virazva used to
call this coast service the " tram service," as the distance
between the various ports is so small.
An hour's steaming along the low coast, with the inevitable
fringe of palms and stretch of sandy beach on which the white
surf was brealcing, brought us to our next port. We anchored
off Tellicherri at sundown. At daybreak we started discharging
our cargo, which chiefly consisted of small bazaar goods, such
355
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
as medicines, piece goods, trinkets, etc. A small trade is done
from this port with the Laccadive Islands, native craft bringing
from the islands coir yarn and receiving in exchange rice and
other goods.
After a twenty-four hours' stay we weighed anchor and
steamed south for thirty-six miles to Calicut. We anchored well
out, and the same view of the shore was obtained — just a stretch
of sandy beach fringed with palm-trees, small groups of huts
and a background of low red-earth (latcrite) hills. Calicut is of
more historical interest than the ports we had just visited, as it
was the first place on this coast to be visited by Europeans, the
Portuguese landing here as early as 1486.
A visit ashore was instructive and fully repaid one for the
discomfort of sitting for about an hour in a surf -boat and being
carried ashore on a coolie's back through the surf. I took a
jutka, or small carriage, and drove round the little town. The
native bazaar was very interesting. It consisted of one street
lined with open-fronted shops ; each shop possessed upper
storey and tiled roof. In front were displayed the goods for
sale — cereals in baskets, yellow-metal pots, trinkets, umbrellas,
cotton goods, and little heaps of evil-smelling copra lying on
mats. ]Most of the natives were wearing huge straw-plaited
hats, some nearly three feet in diameter, to shield them from
the burning sun ; many were engaged in carrying heavy baskets,
suspended on either end of long bamboos, and filled with
produce, such as melons, roots, fruit, etc.
The usual hubbub of an Lidian bazaar greeted one's ears, the
usual odours assailed one's nostrils, and the usual scenes met
one's eyes. The village barbei" was cutting queer and intricate
designs on a coolie's head ; the bullock-eart with its thatched
shade jolted over the stones ; the sacred cow wandered aim-
lessly round the houses molested by none ; and the goats lay
basking iji the sun at the entrance of the shops.
Having driven through the l)azaar, 1 passed beside the
barrack^, which are picturesquely situated on high groimd out-
•side Uie town. Alter skiitiug long stteLelies of paddy fields, groves
J56
( K I \ hi \'^ Sih iRi;
DOWN THE MALABAE COAST
of palms and luxuriant tropical foliage, all of which looked
very fresh and green after the recent rains, I gained the maidan
and the town again. I then paid a visit to the fishing huts that
lay along the seashore between the barracks and the town. As
I passed I noticed many boat-builders at work. The method
here employed in building boats is, I believe, peculiar to the
coast, as tlie beams are all sewn together by coir fibre, no rivets
or nails being used at all. A reason I heard suggested for this
is that there is in consequence greater give, or less resistance,
when riding the surf. It may be so ; though I can recall cases
where riveted boats are employed in surf-riding. A little
beyond the fisher huts I came to the fish-curing yards, the
disagreeable smell of which had warned me of their proximity
some time before I reached them. The process of curing is
simple. Large open spaces are covered with mats on which are
spread sardines and other small fish in large quantities ; salt is
then sprinkled on them. The smell is nearly overpowering !
The Government have erected two curing yards here, and, I
learnt, supplies the salt free to those who bring their fish to
these yards. Much salt on this coast is obtained from the sea-
water by condensation. The seas along the Malabar coast are
well stocked with fish, the fishing industry, however, being
more or less at a standstill when the monsoon is blowing.
Canning the very numerous sardines has been tried, but I was
told that the lack of oil prevented tliis industry from flourishing.
At Mahe^ — the French settlement — ^there are two canneries.
With the ever-growing scarcity of the sardine in home waters
one would think that the sardine off this coast might be more
profitably used than as dried food or manure for tea plantations.
Many " dug-out " canoes, similar in appearance to the mokoro
of the Botletle, though of somewhat stouter design, were in
use along this coast.
In this, as in nearly all the ports on this coast, I noticed
many natives affected by that curious but unsightly disease of
elephantiasis — a dropsical affection of the lower limbs.
Towards evening I started to return to the steamer ; it took
357
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
a good hour's pull before we gained the ship, as the monsoon
was blowing strong. We then steamed for Cochin, which lies
eighty-eight miles to the south. By daybreak we were at anchor
off this port.
If the sand-bar at the entrance were removed the harbour of
Cochin would be one of the finest in India. A narrow entrance
leads into the estuary, which is completely sheltered from the
sea by its principal arm ; this runs parallel to the coast, varying
in breadth from a quarter of a mile to three miles. The harbour
has plenty of water, five or more fathoms being found even at
the Port Office jetty. The bar also is very narrow, and but a
small amount of dredging would be necessary to clear the
entrance. But the Madras Government, in view of the extensive
outlay that has been made on improving the port of Madras,
is naturally loath to do the little that is necessary to convert
Cochin into a formidable rival.
In Cochin 1 obtained an insight into the working of the
cocoanut industry, the mainstay of the coast. The chief com-
mercial products of the cocoanut are the coir fibre, which is
manufactured into yarn and used largely in the making of mats,
ropes, etc. ; and the copra, from which is extracted the oil,
used chiefly in the manufacture of candles, soap, perfumes, etc.
To obtain the coir yarn the husk is buried in the ground and
there left to rot for a period of about twelve months ; the longer
the better, though the native to-day is alive to the question of
supply and demand and when high prices are ruling he will dig
up husks before the expiration of the full period. The husk,
when rotten, is beaten to pieces, and from this is obtained the
coil- fibre, which is afterwards woven into yarn. Women and
children are mainly employed in the work of sorting out
and classifying the different grades of fibre, which is converted
under hydraulic pressure into bales ready for export.
The copi-a is obtained by drying in the sun the halves of the
nut, which jids the " meat " of a great percentage of the vvatci-
it holds ; when dried the " meat " shrinks from the shell and
pressure squeezes out the oil. The native process for extracting
J5^
DOWN THE MALABAR COAST
the oil from the copra is simple but effective ; it is on the prin-
ciple of a pestle in a mortar, with the motive power supplied
by two oxen turning a large beam. The bulk of the oil (in
barrels) and the filjre (in bales) goes to Bombay for shipment to
England and to the Continent, Germany and France being large
buyers. In some instances, when opportunity offers, the stuff
will be shipped by steamer direct to England. There is a
tendency for the liome buyers to purchase the copra and
extract the oil for themselves. As the oil extraction is quite
a little industry amongst the natives, who sell the oil to the
merchant houses, it will not be to the advantage of the Malabar
firms to allow the extraction of the oil to pass into the home
buyers' hands.
I made a trip along the banks of the estuary, passing by
numerous godowns and wharves. Quite a business-like air per-
vaded the place. I saw many small river boats, with high prows
and sterns like Venetian gondolas, passing up and down laden
with goods and produce of all descriptions. In the distance, on
the opposite bank (Native Cochin), could be seen the white
bungalows and Residency Buildings peeping out amidst green
surroundings. I next visited Candle Island, which is owned by
one of the leading commercial houses of Cochin ; and there I
caught a glimpse of some of the teak timber, cut from the
forests of Native Cochin. The timber industry here, however, is
not very large as the difficulty of transport is considerable.
The cotton-wood tree supports a small industry — that of
making tea-boxes, which are shipped (in pieces) to Ceylon for
use in the tea trade.
Candle Island is one of the many small wooded islands in the
estuary. It grows a little rice, but its value to the firm that owns
it is on account of the small industry of boat -building which is
carried on there. I saw on t]\e island a miniature ship-building
yard, which turned out many of the lighters that do the carry-
ing trade between the port and the ships lying outside. At the
time of my visit I was fortunate in finding one boat just ready
for launching and wu.s able to see clearly the method used in
359
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
building. The lighter was built throughout of walnut, not of
teak as I had imagined, and there was not a nail or rivet in
her ; every plank and beam was fastened to its fellow by coir
fibre, lavishly soaked in fish oil. As a final precaution the seams
were puttied. All the beams for the ship had been sawn by
hand.
The lightering business is one of the chief sources of revenue
to the firms in Cochin. The creation of a deep-sea harbour in
the bay would naturally laiock this lucrati^'e occupation on the
head, though a compensatory increase in other business would
undoubtedly also ensue.
Cochin town is quaint and picturesque. In the afternoon I
took a run in a rickshaw through the bazaar. As. this lay
in the native state, I was compelled to pay a small toll when
leaving British territory. An obelisk stands on the bank at a
certain point marking the boundary between the two territories.
It was only on my arrival on this coast that I heai'd of the
small colony of white Syrian Jews that has existed in the heart
of Cochin for centuries. They are said to have arrived in Cochin
in as early as the first century after Christ ; and tradition
further states that one of the Apostles landed on this coast
and founded the colony. If true, it is most remarkable that this
small colony of white Jews should have remained in complete
isolation in the midst of an alien and dark-skinned race for
nearly two thousand years, preserving intact their identity,
their colour, and their religion. They intermarry amongst them-
selves, though it is said that some luisbands are recruited from
the Jewish community in liotnlxiy. They live in complete
isolation in the heart of the native town, and some of them have
never left the street in which they wei-e born. I got a glimpse
of only a few, as they are very shy and the approach of a
stianger generally means an em.pty street. I was told that some
of tlie young girls of the community were very pretty, but the
few I saw could not be called beautiful, though they could
certainly be called very dirty. An old Jewish synagogue at the
end of the street in which they lived ])roved a most intercsn'ng
360
DOWN THE MALABAR COAST
sight. The floor was inlaid with very old tiles of the aneieiit
Chinese willow pattern. The Indian rajah of the state bought
these tiles at a very low price years and years ago. The Jews
of the colony coveted them, so they infoimed the rajah — in
quite a disinterested fashion — that the tiles were made out
of cows' bones ground down. The result, as anticipated by
the wily Jews, was that, as the caste of the Rajah forbade him
to have such articles near him, they were able to purchase them
for a mere song. At least this is the story.
In the synagogue I was shown an ancient Hebrew Bible,
consisting of numerous writings on parchment ; I was assured
that it was, as indeed it looked, centuries old. The old clock of
the synagogue was also a most interesting sight, being a
unique specimen of ancient Iiandicraft. It was worked on a
most primitive system of weights, all the works being quite
exposed. I was told it had never stopped and was centuries
old ; it was indeed a rare cu]"iosity.
A little Jewish boy blew vigorously on an old ram's horn,
making a most diabolical noise, which is always to be heard on
special festive occasions. Having seen all there was to be seen, I
retraced my steps down the little street, vainly trying to get a
glimpse of some of the hidden beauties.
The town of Cochin is as old as it looks. One old Portuguese
eliurch, said to date from 1779, stands in front of the maidan,
and is still in good condition. I also saw some Dutch graves
and memorials^ — the only relics of the Dutch colonisation.
As is usual with these towns along tliis coast, most of the
buildings were built of laterite, which abounds in the soil. Here
and there, in places where that once-mighty race has been, one
noticed a Portuguese " touch " in the architecture.
Although I could not say what gave me the impression, unless
it was the free use of the bamboo, every now and then I noticed
something in the streets of Cochin that forcibly recalled to my
mind streets and life in Japan. I cannot remember anywhere
being so reminded of Japan as I was in Cochin. There seems
undoubtedly a distinctive link between ;dl rnees east of Suez.
361
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
which every now and then is forcibly brought home to the
traveller.
After a long and tiring though instructive day ashore, made
very pleasant by the courteous ship's agent, I returned to the
steamer, which was now ready for sea. We sailed late at night
and arrived by daybreak at our next stopping-place — a little
port called Alleppi. We anchored some two miles out.
Had it not been that I was anxious to see all there was to be
seen, I should have preferred remaining on board, as a visit
ashore meant a long pull in a native boat in a moist and steamy
atmosphere, which greatly magnified the glare on the water.
There was also a moderate sea running.
I had to land at a jetty, as the surf that was 1)reaking on the
beach was too heavy for our boat to run in. To do so I had first
to get on to a barge laden with coir yarn which lay alongside
the jetty and then, when a sea lifted the lighter, at the crucial
moment to do acrobatic feats in leaping to reach and obtain a
hold on to the jetty. My youth and my long legs landed me in
safety !
Alleppi is the principal seaport of the state of Travancore
and is the second largest town in that state. Trivandrum is the
capital and the residence of the Maharajah. Alleppi lies between
the seashore and the paddy lands which bordered the back-
waters. These backwaters, or lagoons, are a feature of this coast.
Some near Alleppi were almost the size of lakes, most luxuri-
antly f oliaged and thickly fringed with waving palms ; in fact,
it is possible to travel to Cochin by way of these backwaters, a
continuous chain of which lie along the coast. They are formed
by the discharge of the numerous rivers fed by the mountain
torrents of the Western Ghats.
Another curious feature of this coast, or about this port, is
the presence of a mud-bank which lies just off the shore. As the
mud is impregnated with oil it influences the sea to such an
extent that ships can communicate with the shore the whole
year round ; the oily mud stirred up by the swell breaks the
force of the waves. When a ship's propeller turns a distinctly
362
DOW^ THE MALABAR COAST
oily odour pervades the atmosphere. This mud-bank is of com-
paratively recent formation and is most erratic in its behaviour.
It has a most reprehensible habit of going off visiting ; and
one then sees the merchants chasing this mud-bank during the
monsoon, as without it trade cannot be done. When it has
decided on its summer abode, there for a time the merchants
also dwell. When 1 was in Alleppi I learnt that the merchant
houses had just returned after having followed this bank some
thirty miles down the coast, where it had been " at home "
during the monsoon. As the rains were now nearly over, they
were at liberty to dispense, for a few months at any rate, with
their unreliable friend.
The cocoanut and betel-nut are the chief exports of this
place, as an almost unbroken belt of cocoanut and areca palms
lie along the coast between the sea and the towering mountains
of Travancore (the Western Ghats). Spices are also exported.
Only a few Europeans reside at Alleppi — eight, I believe, was
the number when I was there. They have a nice little club and
lead a contented if uneventful life.
I drove round the place and visited the bazaar, where the
usual cow was strolling about. The system of canals leading
into the backwaters behind the town and the gondola-shaped
boats in use reminded me of Venice. The old broken-down
walls of lateritc stone covered with moss and lichen that lined
the banks of the canals, spanned at intervals by wooden bridges,
gave a very picturesque touch to the scenery. Outside the town
was the usual luxuriant growth of slender, waving palms.
Barring our carriage knocking over a rickshaw and its coolie
there was nothing very exciting doing in Alleppi, and as a nasty
sea had sprung up I soon thought of returning to the ship. After
a distinctly ageing experience of getting into the boat from the
jetty, the little craft dancing on the waves like a cork, we
started off to the steamer. The monsoon was blowing strong. I
left behind a few choice and emphatic phrases to be conveyed
to the architect of that landing-stage and hope they duly
reached him ! The boatmen did not relish their task, but as they
363
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
were practically naked they didn't mind very much the waves
that periodically tumbled into the boat. I did ! By the time we
reached the ship our boat was half full of water, though the man
at the lielm had kept her head well on to the seas. I blessed the
vagrant mud-bank that should have been at its post.
We sailed late in the afternoon and were abeam of Cape
Comorin by daylight next morning. We anchored off Tuticorin
in the afternoon.
Tuticorin from the ship's deck was not attractive. On low
sandy soil, sparsely clothed with vegetation, stood a few red-
tiled buildings and godowns, and one or two tall factory
chimneys ; that was about all. Tuticorin is the principal seaj3ort
of the state of Tinnevelli.
Whilst the cargo was being discharged I remarked on the
perfect seamanship displayed by the Indians in handling their
one-masted lug-sail crafts. They would steer their boats dead
for the ship, running with the wind, and, whilst you held your
breath thinking they would come round a moment too late,
over would go their helm and they were alongside with their
lines all but made fast.
The waters of the gulf were dotted on all sides with the white
sails of these craft ; in the distance they looked like small
yachts. When about to return to the shore the Indians pulled
up their sails to the tune of a "chanty," hauling up the heavy
sail hand over hand : some ran up the rope like monkeys,
gripping it with their feet, and by their weight so got the sail up.
What the Indians in the Gulf of Manaar do not know of seaman-
ship cannot be taught them by anyone else.
At sundown we weighed anchor and left the coast of India
for Cevlon.
364
■kI i^^mJ...^.imamA.:i.^.
CHAPTER XVI
FR0:M CEYLON TO BURMA
THE shores of Ceylon wc]-e in sight by daylight. As we
were keeping close in to the island we obtained a good
view of the pretty palm-fringed beach on which the
white surJ' could be seen breaking. We sighted Colombo at mid-
day. On our way we passed numerous outriggers and canoes,
some under sail, others at anchor, fishing with nets and with
lines. Those under sail continually kept their canvas wet to
draw it tight, in order to catch what little breeze there was.
As we were stoppmg to pick up oin* pilot, a small brig with
all her sails set crossed our bows and entered the harbour ; her
canvas in tlie bright sunlight looked like the white wings of a
large sea-bird. She was one of the small brigs that trade in copra
between Ceylon and the Laccadive Islands.
The new arm of the breakwater at Colombo is now completed,
imd Colombo to-day possesses a fine sheltered harbour, though
in heavy monsoon weather the sea breaks clear over the break-
water. There were many gunboats lying at anchor in the basin,
their " paying off " pennants trailing in the breeze. Most of
them were from the China and Australian stations, awaiting
new crews from home.
By three o'clock in the afternoon we were moored at our buoy
and we started to discharge our cargo. The bulk of it was
transhipment cai'go for Madras, the rest being for the island
of Ceylon, consisting chiefly of bags of fish manure which we
had loaded at the Malabar coast ports for the plantations.
By noon of the 8th we were ready for sea. Our ship was now
quite empty, with the exception of a few tons of coal sufhcient
to take us up to Burma, where the ship was to load a cargo of
0(^5
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
teak timber for Bombay. Running soutPi, skirting the Ceylon
coast, we were abeam of Point de Galle by midnight. (Here I
crossed my westward track of 1908 — 80° E., 6° N.)
Off the land we sighted many of the small craft that trade
up and down the Indian and Ceylon coasts. By noon of the
following day the shores of Ceylon had faded away in the
distance, and we headed for Burma. The south-west mon-
soon was still blowing hard, though it was nearly at an end ;
being "light ship" we rolled quite a little. After steaming for
three days with the wind we came into a very confused sea,
the seas running north whilst the tops were breaking south.
For a time we feared that we were in the track of a cyclone —
the typhoon of the Bay of Bengal — though the season for these
depressions) was over for a time. However, we encountered no
bad weather, though we learnt later that there had been a very
severe depression about this time off the coast of Madras, the
aftermatli of which only had reached us some two or three
hundred miles to the eastward. By daybreak of the 11th we
were in sight of Table Island in the Cocos group — the most
northerly of the Andaman Isles. Some ships make the passage
from Ceylon to Burma via the 10° Channel, which separates
the Andamans from the Xicobar Isles in the south. We steamed,
however, to the north of the islands.
Early the next morning found us in the muddy and yellow
waters of the Gulf of Martaban. Had we not known our position,
this muddy water, with stray logs of wood and brush adrift
brought down by the swollen rivers of Burma, would have soon
informed us of the close proximity of land. Shortly after day-
light we sighted the coast of Burma ; Amherst Point first showed
up on the horizon and shortly afterwards Green Island came
into view. At noon the pilot boarded us. As we drew near to the
land I saw that the shores and coastlands were thickly wooded
and green, with distant ranges of liills visible in the background.
A cable-length off Amlierst Point lay the famous Water Pagoda,
which is built on piles in the water. In the glare of the sun this
pagoda, }jainted white, looked like a large windjanmier bearing
366
FROM CEYLON TO BURMA
down on us with all her canvas set. The white pagoda, with its
background of dark wooded hills and thick green foliage, is a
striking object and an excellent landmark for the sailor.
Entering and passing up the River Sal ween (or the River
Moulmein, as it is often called as far north as Moulmein) are
tasks that tax all the pilot's skill. The river bed is continually
changing, survey boats being always at work to sound the ever-
shifting depths. A series of sand-banks off the entrance have
first to be negotiated before the navigable channel of the river,
which is marked with red and black buoys, can be entered. To
add to the navigator's difficulties, a strong tide generally runs
athwart the channel ; low-powered steamers have just as much
as they can do to take the sharp twists and turns without going
aground. There still remain in the river the half -submerged
wrecks of two or three large steamers that have come to grief.
By three o'clock we had made the entrance and started the
passage up to Moulmein, which lies twenty-five miles up the
river. The banks were fringed with groves of palms and thick
foliage, behind which lay vast stretches of paddy land of the
tenderest green, everything looking very fresh after the recent
heavy rains. The nodding palms, swaying in the gentle breeze,
and the dense clumps of tropical vegetation looked their
loveliest in the cool of the afternoon. My first impression of the
beauty and softness of Burma's scenery was never dispelled.
The green paddy fields at a distance recalled to my mind
English meadows and well-kept lawns.
The river was very full, though not quite so full as it had been
a month previous to our arrival ; then the greater part of the
paddy fields adjoining the river banks had been under water.
Even now tlie water was level with the banks. In places where
the banks were bare of their fringe o[ foliage and palms I could
see, stretching right to the wooded hills in the distance, one
expanse of rich green, the sun glistening on the numerous plots
which looked like so many little ponds in a grassy meadow.
Little huts between groups of paddy fields were shaded by one
or two solitary palms. High up in the wooded hills the white
367
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
spire of a pagoda would catch the eye shining brightly in the
sun's rays — a testimony to the work and self-sacrifice of some
devout Burman. The land on either bank was broken up into
a network of small creeks on which floated little houris with
thatched roofs— the gondolas of the East.
After steaming a few miles up the river we passed the small
village of Kin Choung, which looked a perfect picture nestling
amidst its groves of palms. As wc passed I caught sight of
villagers working in the fields up to their knees in mud, tending
the rice beds. It recalled to me scenes of Japan. In many parts
the river banks were lined with clumps of short toddy palms,
from which the Burman extracts his drink of arrack — the sake
of the country. Far in the distance, over the ranges of wooded
hills that backed the stretches of paddy lands, were faintly
visible the bluish-tinted mountains of Siam.
When we were within a few miles of Moulmein the slender
spire of the Golden Pagoda showed up clearly, its gilded surface
shining brightly in the rays of the setting sun and standing out
prominently on tlie " Ridge " — the low range of hills that over-
shadows the town of Moulmein. Straight ahead of us the
Joagalem Mountains stood out in bold relief.
Just before reaching Moulmein wc passed the small village
of Kyuo Ktang, whicfi bears a very unsavoury reputation, being
a favourite resort of many Dacoits — the pirates of Burma.
Opium dens and other ill-famed establishments are to be found
there.
A little beyond this village is the part of INIoulmein which is
called iMupun ; here most of the rice mills and timber yards are
situated. Close })y one mill I noticed a peculiar object in the
shape of an old and disused factory chimney out of which Avas
growing a large tree, its loliagc luxuriantly shading the brick-
enclosc;d tnmk ; it was a most remarkable illustration of Nature's
tenacity of purpose.
We anchored off Mouhnein as the sun was setting, its last
ravs cnsting golden sjiadovvs over the surrounding country.
The softness of twilight was slowly stealing over the land as
368
FROM CEYLON TO BURMA
the splash ol' our anchor broke the stillness. Soon, but for the
croaking of the frogs on the banks near by and the chirping of
the crickets, everything became very quiet. The darkness slowly
deepened. Presently the cry of the watchmen in the timber
yards along the banks calling one to another reached our ears
faintly. Never did the strains of Schubert's " Serenade " sound
so sweet as they did that night when we lay at anchor in the calm
waters of the ]Moulmein, though only from a phonograph.
I left the old Virawa on the following day and bade good-bye
to my shipmates, from whose hands I had received many kind-
nesses.
A visit to a rice mill was interesting. The process of converting
paddy, the unhusked grain in its natural state, into rice is
very simple. The paddy is first sifted in order to get rid of all
the refuse, such as bits of stick and straw, cheroot ends, etc. ;
it is then passed between two revolving stones dressed with
composition, known as the " shellers," which are Just sufficiently
wide apart to grind the husks off the grains of rice without
breaking them.
It is then winnowed by rotary fans, the husks and dust being
blown off, leaving behind the rice with, however, some still
unhusked paddy. Some of the rice grains are broken : this is
termed " cargo broken rice." The rice is separated from the
paddy through various separators of different-sized mesh, the
unhusked paddy going again through the " shellers."
The rice then undergoes what is called the " whitening
process," the grains being polished by being poured between
revolving cone-drums, set at a certain gauge so as not to break
the rice but by contact of one grain with another to polish it.
The dust which is obtained from this process is called " rice
meal " and has a market value.
The various grades of rice obtained from paddy in order of
commercial value are (1) "white rice," in which is allowed a
small percentage of paddy (which is difficult to eliminate com-
pletely) and also a small percentage of broken rice : (2) "White
2 A 369
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
broken rice " (this is largely used in the manufacture of
starch) : (3) " Cargo rice " : (4) " Cargo broken rice " : (5) " Rice
meal."
The mill dust is generally sold locally for feeding animals.
The husk is utilised as fuel, though much of it simply goes to
waste. I learnt, however, since leaving Burma that a process
was being worked by wliich briquettes for firing purposes were
made out of this refuse husk in conjunction with oil.
Perhaps even more interesting than a visit to a rice mill is to
watch the working of the teak industry. The saw-mills in Burma
are well equipped with the latest timber-cutting machinery,
though they had nothing to show me in this respect that I
had not seen in the Western States of America. In the timber
\'ards, however, I saw what I iiavc not seen in any other part
of the world : the sagacious elephant doing as intelligently, and
certainly more willingly, the work done in the West l^y thirty
men. The elephants use their trunks to lift the logs and their
tusks for leverage ; the tusks arc oJ'ten iron-tipped to protect
the ivory from damage. The elephant is guided by the rnahont
on his back, who directs the animnTs nioveuicnts with a steel-
pointed stick ; he will carry on his tusks logs that weigh three
and four tons and will place the timber exactly in the desired
spot. It is a most interesting sight to watch these big fellows,
with their huge ears fla]:)ping against their heads, working so
placidly and so humanly.
Moulmein is a most charming spot ; it is, indeed, one of the
plcasantest places 1 liave ever visited. It possesses a very
sporting little golf-course. 1 have never played on a prettier,
though I 'ear J did not a])]H'eciate so much as I ought the beauty
of \hv links when I found my \y,\\\ curled cosily up in the roots
of a nuijcstic tree just off the fairway. I strongly recommend
pros])('etivc visitors to ?iloulinein to get s])ccial]y built "' Drcad-
]iought "" ni.'ishies and niblicks to cope with the yoimg saplings ;
they wiil need them ! Nojie the less 1 i-egard the little course of
Moiilituin with feelings of affection, as well as of respect.
While in Moulmeiii i was the guest of two Continental
170
FROM CEYLON TO BURMA
gentlemen, both connected with rice hrms. A chance meeting
brought this about ; it is a long story, so I can't relate it. They
could not, liowever, do enough to make my short stay as
pleasant as possible ; and I look back with feelings of very
great gratitude to those courteous hosts of mine who went out
of their way to smooth the not too level path of a wanderer.
Moulmcin was very interested in dancing. Even during my
sliort stay there were no less than four dances, which in that
damp climate speaks highly for the energy, as well as for the
sociability, of a small community of about one hundred and
fifty Europeans.
Before leaving, I visited the Golden Pagoda — the Pagoda of
Moulmein. A courteous Burman — and the Burmans are as
refined a people as one can find in the East — noticing 1 was a
stranger, went out of his way to show m^e the beauties of the
pagoda, of which he was justly proud. The pagoda was built of
teak, with sun-dried brick in the foundations. The top was
crowned with a htee (umbrella), from which hung little silver
bells that tinkled softly in the evening air. ]Many gigantic and
imposing figures of Buddha, made out of stone, could be seen,
one in a reclining position being very finely sculptured. Always
the same calm and meditative expression was depicted on the
face. Quaint figures — half man, half animal — gazed down. A long
gallery contained a row of life-sized figures, all carved in stone,
illustrating scenes of life and emotions of the mind.
And the bronze bells. What sweet yet sad tones boomed out
in the still evening air when one struck their chased sides.
Every evening at sunset the slow tones of those temple bells
would vibrate in the quiet twilight with their poignant appeal.
From the Golden Pagoda an exquisite panoramic view of the
surrounding country lay at my feet. Overhead the wide expanse
of sky was tinged with streaks of gold from the rays of the
setting sun. Below I saw stretching far in the distance the rich
green of the paddy lands and the thick luxuriant foliage of
the undulating hills, behind which lazily wended their way the
tortuous streams of the Salween. I could trace the junction of
371
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
ilic Ataraiig and the Gyiaiig rivers flowing from tlie east, and
the swollen waters of the Salween towards the mountains of
Assam.
The sun had set as I retraced my steps along the Ridge. I
passed by temples and pagodas, and priests in the yellow garb
of Humility gazing meditatively in the stillness of approaching
night. It was very peaceful and quiet. And I wondered then who
w^as the happier : I of the Christian West, or they of the Heathen
East.
372
CHAPTER XVII
SCENES IX BURMA
IT was a delightfully fresh morning when I stood onKaladan
wharf at Moulmein awaiting the arrival of my companion
who was to join me on a trip up the Ataran river. The
mountains in the distance stood out boldly in the clear morning
air, overshadowing the fast-flowing waters of the Salween, their
summits draped in a faint transparent haze. The Golden
Pagoda shone resplendently in the early light.
The wharf was thronged with crowds of Dustling people-
such a motley collection of gesticulating, jabbering humanity.
Dark-visaged Madrassis, aristocratic Burmans and Talaings,
slender Chittagonians from the Aracan coast rubbed shoulders
with white-turbaned Hindus and Chinamen from Cathay.
Bevies of sweet, dark-eyed little Burmese children with their
graceful mothers, squatting in little groups on the ground,
patiently awaited the arrival of the river boat. And the mixtui'e
of colours ! The Burman and his womenfolk in their white
jackets {mgyee) and skirts {loongye) of every conceivable shade,
the Sikh policeman in dull khaki, the white-turbaned Coringhee
and the blue-coated Chinaman gave one a glimpse of nearly
every (colour in the rainbow. Most of the Burmese women and
children had on their faces a thick coating of powder, which is
deemed by them highly becoming, though it reminded me of mv
experiences in Oregon resacking flour. In one or two cases where
the powder had been judiciously administered the effect W£)s
pleasing to the eye, the white thanakka throwing into relief the
pretty darkened eyebrows and the limpid eyes. Nearly all were
smoking cheroots of varying shapes and sizes, green and dry.
Every now and theii a couple of perspiring coolies, heavilv
373
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
laden with baskets of produce and bags of rice, would enter into
a wordy battle, lifting their voices higher and higher above the
din of the noisy crowd. A stranger to the ways of the Orient
would tliink a free fight imminent ; but the storm of words
abated as speedily as it arose. Doubtless it was all over a pice
that one coolie's uncle owed the other's dead grandfather.
Nobody worried about them. A shove from a passer-by withdrew
for a moment one coolie's attention to his load of produce, the
other quickly availing himself of the interruption to mix himself
up in the crowd ; and so the quarrel ended !
In due course the river boat arrived on the scene and was soon
filled almost to overflowing with the crowds of natives all carry-
ing parcels and goods — ever^'thing from a bag of rice to a little
oil lamp. Everybody carried a package of some sort, if only a
present for the little mites at home.
]My companion joined me just as we wei'c about to sail. He
was one of the superintendents of the Irrawaddi Flotilla Co.,
and was bound on a tour of inspection up the river. He was a
Scotsman, and one of the t\qDe of Britishers that does not go
" to the dogs " because he is out East. Whilst he was engaged
on his business I watched a woman selling dates on the landing-
stage. The fact that her lump of dried dates, her stock, got mixed
up with the weights troubled her no more than the indiscriminate
handling of the stuff with her dirty fingers worried lier customers.
She also seemed to take quite placidly the inevitable return of
her customers to demand an extra lump, declaring that they had
received short weight, notwithstanding the fact that they had
— one and all — watched very closely the process of weighing.
Oh for the temperament of the Oriental !
Just as the river boat slipped away from the landing-stage,
half-an-hour late, a few stragglers turned up and gazed most
indignantly at the departing ship. Tlie native of the East regards
Time like his wile- — as sometliing of little consequence.
It was just an hour before noon wlien we left Kaladan and
steamed up the Moulmein towards the Ataran. It had been rain-
ing a little, but the .-^ky was now bright, and in the sunlight the
374
SCENES IN BURMA
banks of the river looked very fresh and green. We passed small
native huts raised some feet from the ground, and fleets of
houris, the boats used for cai'rying paddy, and one or two
rafting stations where lay numej-ous logs of teak waiting Govern-
ment " scaling " to determine the royalty dues. We stopped foi-
a few minutes at the extreme end of the town in order to take on
a few more passengers, and then entered the Ataran. The river
here ran very strongly. In places near to the banks the water
was thickly covered with paddy husk, amidst which little naked
children were disporting themselves. Child life in Burma seemed
to me to be the essence of happiness.
I saw numerous little " dug-outs " with raised gunwales
made of teak. Those in use were paddled skilfully along by their
solitary occupant, though sometimes one caught sight of two or
three in these little cockle-shells which could be turned over by
any sudden movement.
The boat kept close to the winding river's banks, which were
thickly fringed with palms and jungle growth ; in the back-
ground were tracts of paddy land, green as an emerald, over-
shadowed by the blue and distant hills. To me the scenery was
typically English ; to my companion it was typically Scottish
— and we were both right !
We stopped at several little villages as w^e travelled up the
river. In most cases the boat just rammed her nose gently
against the bank and a slender plank would be shoved over the
side. Disembarkation then began. Down the plank walked the
alighting passengers with their bundles and babies and their
inevitable umbrellas. At one village a passenger^ — a little too
confident of the gangway — slipped and fell into the river.
Such a howl of applause and merriment greeted this perform-
ance ! 3Ien, women and children chuckled and chortled with
glee ; and no one more so than the immersed one when he had
recovered his breath. He then started to recover his lost property,
which had fallen into the river with him ; he was still engaged
in this task when we left.
Wlien we were in sight of any village and were yet a little
375
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
distance off, we could see most of the inhabitants assembled on
the banks to meet the steamer and welcome the " travellers "
home. The little group of naked toddlers, full of fun and merri-
ment, was always there in full force ; the inevitable pariah dog
would also show up and with his yelps and barks add to the
general noise and hubbub ; the joking and laughing people
seemed not to have a care in the world. Through the jungle
growth on the banks one could see the little group of huts that
made up the village and the monastery amid its thick grove
of palms. The life led by these simple-hearted people and the
peace of their surroundings made one feel a little less proud of
th.e civilised Western world and its ideals.
Proceeding on our way, sometimes nearly swamping little
fishing boats, much to the chagrin of the occupants though
greatly to the delight of our merry passengers, we reached Kyeik
Myaw, a fairly large village, with a landing-stage to bear witness
to its importance. The name Kyeik ]Myaw is the Burmese for
" Fail to please." Years back, so the story goes, this village was
famous for its beautiful girls, who, however, were fully aware of
their charms and cast most disdainful looks on the ordinary
mortals who dared to court them ; hence the name !
On the landing-stage numerous villagers were doing a good
business in selling sticks of sugar-cane. The little ones were
the most conspicuous amongst the sellers, and I particularly
remarked one little mite, not more than four years of age,
who would not have been outdone or disgraced by a Jew
pedlar on the Rand. Six pice (| anna) was the price of a small
stick, whilst one anna would buy a large fat and juicy cane.
On departing, the ])asscnge]'s started to chew these canes, spitting
out the hbre on tlic decks, which soon became thickly littered
with the refuse. Beyond the " Fail to please " village the river
narrowed considerably, ]xissing [between banks overshadowed
by towering hills of very peculiar rock covered with jungle
growth. In the distance appeared high ranges of wooded hills,
on solitary spurs of which white pagodas stood out in strong
relief. Evel'v^\herc there were glimpses of I'ich green paddy
376
SCENES IN BURMA
fields, groves of luxuriant waving palms, tropical foliage and
vegetation sheltering small villages.
The river pursued a most tortuous course, making so many-
twists and turns that we would have the sun one moment on
our right hand and the next on our left. We passed numerous
hoiiris laden with freshly uprooted paddy which was ready to
be transplanted. Much of the paddy had been damaged by the
recent excessively heavy rains and many fields were still under
water. Sometimes the rice is planted out of reach of floods in a
" nursery," whence it is transplanted when ready to the fields.
By four o'clock in the afternoon we reached the village of
Ngabyima — our destination. My companion during the trip had
been superintending the duties of the various ticket-collectors,
checking their issues and receipts. He possessed an excellent
working knowledge of the Burmese language and seemed to be
quite a favourite with the fair sex.
When we landed he took me under his wing to show me the
sights of the Ngabyima, a typical jungle village. It consisted of
one long main street, lined on either side with thatched bamboo
huts all raised some feet from the ground. Fathers and mothers
chatting and gossiping, dogs and hens roaming round, and little
children playing and romping made up its life. Just outside the
village was situated the poogyne cheoung in a thick groveof palms.
My companion was well known in the village and took me
first to the village school. We mounted the little ladder which
led up to the raised hut ; on the floor were seated a number of
little children, who, as we entered, were at prayers. We listened
to the little mites repeating a Buddhist oration after the head
boy, who himself was not more than seven years old. All were
on their knees, their hands clasped, their little shaven heads
quite erect, their eyes reverently closed. One mite compelled at
last by overpowering curiosity turned his roguish little face
towards us and took a fleeting glance at the two sahibs standing
behind. Such a lovely pair of sparkling eyes had that little one.
When prayers were finished they scampered off home.
We next visited an old lady who welcomed us cordially and
377
A WANDERER'S TRATI.
commenced to chatter garrulously with my companion, who
was, though he strenuously denied it, as big a gossip as the old
lady herself. Presently entered one of the little children we had
seen at school — a grandchild of our liostcss. For our benefit,
though not till after a lot of persuasion, tills child went throguh
a Buddhist dance, in just the same sweet bashful way a little
English girl of equally tender years would liavc recited " Little
Jim." Saying good-bye, we strolled towards the Indian bazaar,
where I espied displayed for sale evej'\i:hino from betel-nut to
a reel of Coats' thread — ^No. 60. These Indian bazaar-keepers
generally get into their hands the produce of the village, whicli
chiefly consists of the paddy crop, the careless Burman mort-
gaging his crop long before it is gathered in.
Hearing the sweet tones of the monastery bell booming in the
evening air, we made our way towards the poogyne cheoung, wliere
we observed the yellow-garbed priests engaged in their evening
prayers. From the monastery a narrow path led to the next
village, which was about two miles away. As it was stiil light we
followed this path, through swampy paddy fields on tlie one side
and on the other thick jungle growth — at least too thick for the
indolent Burman to clear it away and convert it into paddy
lands. On our way we met one or two labourei's returning from
the fields treading the narrow footway in single file. They showed
no curiosity at meeting two foreigners in such an out-of-the-way
place and passed us by as though we were one of themselves.
The natives of Burma to me seemed even more impassive than
other Orientals, though my stay in the country was so short
that I cannot say if this is really the case.
The footpath led through ground which in parts was almost
a morass ; in other places we had to cross running streams
spanned (wlicre absolutely necessar\ ) by single planks of wood.
As we passed by the little huts of the village we caught sight of
tlie oxen and buffaloes being driven home for the night after
their day's work in the fields ; the Burman, in common with
most Buddhists, looks after his live-stock well.
In this village wc made a call on one old fellow with whom
57^
SCENES IN BURMA
my companion seemed on excellent terms. He spread a mat for
us, on which we squatted, and wliile tlic two were gossiping I
took stock of the old man's abode. It was a large hut built of
bamboo throughout and thatched carefully with large palm
leaves. The floor was raised several feet off the ground and con-
sisted of bamboos split in halves, laid closely togethei' side by
side. Partitions erected with bamboo rafters, neatly thatched
with leaves, divided the hut into different rooms. Of furniture
there was nothing but a cradle made out of a thatched round
basket swinging from a beam in the roof. A large earthenware
jar — ^an indispensable item in a Burman household — stood
outside.
When it was dark a little oil lamp faintly illuminated the
interior of the dwelling, its uncertain rays lighting up the childish
face of one of the old man's daughters who had joined us. She
was busily engaged in scrutinising the sahibs' faces and eagerly
listening to the conversation that was going on between the old
fellow and my companion. The old Burman was perhaps the
moj'e curious, judging by the pertinent questions he put to my
companion regarding my humble self. How many children had
1 ? How m.any brothers and sisters ? Whence had I come ?
Where was I going to ? These were a few of the queries with
which he plied my companion. When he had been satisfied on
these points he asked what was my work ; or was I a tourist ?
My companion briefly replied I was seeing the world and was
writing of what I saw. To this the old chap replied : " Why
doesn't he do some work ? " This shrewd retort tickled us both
immensely.
It was very })eaceful sitting in that quiet hut as twilight
slowly gave place to the silent darkness which deepened around
us, listening to the croaking of the frogs, the chirping of the
crickets in the juiiglc and the slow, soft tones of the distant bells.
Tlie gathering darkness, however, reminded us that it was time
to get back to our boat ; so bidding farewell to our old host we
retraced our steps to the river. The task of picking our way
was by no means easy in the dark, and the uneven and muddy
379
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
path was in places almost impassable in the intense blackness of
the jungle. Frogs plumped into the swamps at the sound of our
footsteps and brilliant fireflies flitted to and fro as we slowly-
groped our way along the narrow path. With much fear and
trembling we negotiated the one-plank bridges, fortunately
without mishap, though at times this Blondin feat brought my
heart into my mouth ; and sounds of rustlings in the jungle and
undergrowth whispered of snakes. When we reached our boat
we appreciated a long drink and a bath.
Long before dawn we were under way again and started the
return journey. The sun was just rising above the hills as we
sighted Moulmein and the reflection of the sun's early rays on
the graceful Pagoda in the shining waters of the river was just
one streak of pure gold. I never quite realised the number of
pagodas and temples that there are in and round Moulmein
till I approached the town from behind the " Ridge." Pagoda
after pagoda is revealed to the eye, making one realise very
forcibly the grip that Buddha's teachings have on the lives of
the Burmans.
My hosts decided to climb Mount Zingyaik — the highest peak
in Lower Burma^ — and I weakly allowed myself to be persuaded
to join them. In the moist heat of Burma reclining in a deck-
chair gazing at the quiet life around me was moi'c appealing to
me than the strenuous occupation of climbing mountains. I
begged my hosts to " do " it for ]ne by proxy, as Mark Twain
used wisely to do ; but no ! they insisted — and so it came to pass
that three miserably wet-looking objects were found standing
at Martaban station in tlie pouring rain. My companions seemed
to consider it quite the usual thing to picnic in pouring j'ain, and
when I gently hinted that the wcatlier was too bad and that it
would l)e better to postpone oiu' strenuous attempt sine die,
they botli liurled at my head statistics of the rainfall for the
yeai'. I drank them in and I learnt tliat 192" of rain had already
fallen in and round Moulmein (and the month of September had
.not yet passed) and that 198" was the average rainfall of the year,
360
SCENES TN BUEMA
Six more inches were due. They arrived by the time we reached
our bungalow again.
From Martaban we took the train to a small village near the
mountain I had to climb. We passed on our way stretches of
paddy lands, half of them still under water. On our right lay
ranges of midulating hills— the Martaban Mountains — ^thickly
wooded and green, from which numerous pagodas peeped out,
some of them completely covered with moss and lichen.
It was still raining steadily when we alighted from the train
and started trudging over the muddy roads. Most of the hills
were obscured by heavy clouds of mist which every now and
then would lift, revealing some little temple on their summits.
The higher and the more inaccessible the spot where the Burman
erects his pagoda the greater is his merit. Plodding towards the
hill we passed herds of buffaloes and oxen grazing. Many of the
dwellings amidst the swamps of paddy fields were completely
isolated, separated one from the other by a sea of water ; so the
method of conveyance from house to house was by means of the
small " dug-out."
Mount Zingyaik was estimated to be some 3000 feet in
height ; after I had been climbing for an hour it seemed to me
a good 30,000 feet high. At the very top of the peak — ^the highest
peak in Lower Burma, I repeat this^ — a temple and pagoda had
been built, and from the bottom to the top a pathway made out
of boulders and stones had been cut through the dense growth
of jmigle. How ashamed I felt of my lack of energy in climbing
up tJiese steps when I reflected on the amount of energy,
perseverance and self-sacrifice that must have been necessary for
the task of creating that pathway. The path was over six feet
wide, with a series of roughly hewn boulders as steps, and was
bordered on either side by a low wall made out of smi-dried
bricks covered with moss, lichen and climbing shrubs. On either
side of this narrow pathw^ay was thick and almost impenetrable
Jungle growth.
We were clad in the thinnest of clothes, as the moist heat was
intense and the exercise a little more strenuous than one's every-
381
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
day occupation. Rain and perspiration drenciied us completely.
After a long climb we reached tlic " Rest House " that was built
half-way up tlic mountain-side. It was a welcome sight. A
mountain stream swollen by the recent, as well as the present,
rains foamed and rushed over its bouldei'-strewn bed, making
waterfalls in its rapid descent. From our position we obtained
a glorious panoramic view of the surrounding country stretching
away to the open sea in the Gulf of Martaban. The vast expanse
of green paddy fields separated by narrow footpaths looked to us
at this height like a gigantic chess-board. Large stretches were
completely flooded and stood out cleai'ly against the emerald-
green of the other more fortunate fields.
At last the continuous rain damped even the ardour of my two
companions, and it was decided, to my secret joy though to iny
feigned regret, to abandon the climb to the top. AYe spent a
couple of houi's at the " Re^t House " making steady im'oads
in the stock of sandwiches and eggs the sei'vants had brought
up. Whilst roaming round (mountain creeks have always a
fascination for me) I thought I discovered traces of gold. My
enei'gy revived speedily and for the space of an hour I searched
diligcntlythe beds of the creeks around up to my knees in running
water, much to the secret amusement of my two companions.
^ly host still has the samples T collected that day ; if ever a
Klondyke is found on Mount Zingyaikthe credit is mine.
We started the descent, whicli was nearly as hard work as the
ascent, as the rain had made tlic rough boulder steps very
slippery. It was even more difficult for our native servants, whose
bai-e feet continually slid off the slippery rocks ; in order to assist
them they cut large bam])oo ])o]csfrom the jungle, utilising these
as alpenstocks. We too found our walking-sticks more than
useful. None of us were sorry to I'caeh the bottom of the hill
again, as it was very tiring and at times I'isky work clambering
over the slip])ery stones worn smooth by the feet of thousands.
Much of the rock of tliese liills was of granite formation, and
there existed a small industr}- of quariying this stone for road-
making ])in'poses.
382
SCENES IN BURMA
Alter our climb we rambled, wet and dishevelled, tlirougii the
village to a large waterfall and there enjoyed a perfect bath
sitting under the tumbling waters, a fitting finale to our strenu-
ous day's doings. We disported ourselves here like schoolboys
till late in the afternoon, when we returned toMoulmein, feeling
tired but intensely pleased with ourselves. In the club that night
I am inclined to think that, when saying in quite a casual way,
" We climbed Mount Zingyaik to-day," I forgot to add that
we only went half-way.
38:
CHAPTER XVIII
FROM MOULMEIN TO CALCUTTA
EARLY in the morning of the 25th I boarded the B.I.
paddle steamer Rampura to cross over to Rangoon.
By nine o'clock we were out of the river and were steam-
ing through the Gulf of Martaban. Shortly after noon we entered
the Hlaing, or Rangoon river, and steamed towards the town,
which lies twenty-one miles up on the left bank of the river.
The Rangoon and the Bassein rivers arc the only two mouths
of the Irrawaddi that are navigable for deep-sea ships, though
there are seven other tributaries of this river all more or less
available for small craft.
Rangoon river, from a scenic point of view, is not to be com-
pared with the ]\Ioulmein river, as its banks are low and much
wider apart, the water also being of a very dirty colour. On the
other hand, a more prosperous and business-like air pervades it.
One catches sight of numerous launches, small steamers and
native craft plying up and down, also many tramps lying at
anchor — some engaged in loading cargoes of rice and oil, others
unloading quantities of home goods. The commerce of Rangoon
is yearly increasing and as a port it ranks to-day third in
importance in the Indian Empire.
On approaching the town, the Shwc Dagon Pagoda soon came
into view and was a most striking and splendid object with the
rays of the afternoon sun reflected from its gilded surface.
We anchored off the B.I. wharf about tea-time. After leaving
the ship I took a quiet stroll round Rangoon to obtain my first
impression. j\Iueh of the town is built on reclaimed land, many
of the principal streets being on what was once nothing but
muddy swamp ; the modern part of the town is laid out on the
3S4
FROM MOULMEIN TO CALCUTTA
American block system. Rangoon to-day possesses some
excellent buildings, a new block of Government offices being
particularly imposing. A stroll through the native part of the
town was most interesting. Frazer Street and the adjoining
quarter was m}' favourite spot, with the different types of
humanity that jostled each other in the crowded thoroughfare.
Displayed for sale in the little rows of stalls that lined both sides
of tJie streets was everything, from an eyeglass to a second-hand
Euclid book, from articles of food to packets of notepaper, from
^Manchester piece-goods to the latest quack medicine. By night
flaming oil lamps lit up each little stall, the flickering rays throw-
ing shadows on the diversified types of Oriental humanity that
thronged the busy streets. Indians of all castes and creeds,
Chinese, Japanese, the dignified Burman and the happy-go-
luck}^ coolie jostled each other — all busily engaged in buying or
selling, shouting or quarrelling. A stroll down the Chinese quarter
produced the usual sights, smells and noises consistent with a
settlement populated by the representatives of this virile race.
1 caught glimpses of little groups of gamblers staking their last
coin on Fortune's fickle wheel and heard once again the plaintive
wail of the Chinese violin.
I paid a visit to the Shwe Dagon — the most important pagoda
of the Buddhist world. From the farthest parts of Burma, Siam
and Korea worshippers come to visit and to pay homage to this
shrine at the annual festival. It is the Buddhist's Mecca.
One ascends numberless tiers of steps, worn smooth by the
flight of ages, and shaded by handsome carved teak roofs
supported on huge wooden pillars. One catches sight of numerous
frescoes carved on the large panels and cross-beams, representing
scenes from the life of Buddha and of his disciples, and scenes of
torture in hell and of bliss in heaven. Still ascending, one passes
little stalls, where candles, tapers and incense can be purchased
to burn at the altar of the god. At the foot of the pagoda is a
further number of these little stalls ; also man}' chapels and
colossal figures of Buddha. Numerous grotesque figures, half
animal and half man, in all positions, representative of the acts
2B 385
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
of fighting, dancing and meditation, arc to be seen on all sides.
At the base of the pagoda is a host of smaller pagodas, each
with its htee and cluster of gold and silver bells which tinkle
melodiously in the cool evening breeze. Bronze bells of all
sizes, suspended on stout cross-beams of teak, are struck by
devotees with the striker of a deer's antlers supplied for the
purpose.
The original payah, or pagoda, is said to have gained its present
size and height by repeated coverings of brick. It is regilded
every now and then ; most worshippers buy a few gold leaves
from the stalls and add their small contribution, which results
in little isolated patches of gilt showing up here and there.
Adjoining the pagoda are many monasteries situated amidst
thick groves of palms and shady trees, so surrounded in accord-
ance with Buddhist teachings. From this position a most
perfect view of the surrounding country may be obtained, with
the Moulmein Hills faintly visible in tlie distance.
It had been ray intention to travel to Calcutta from Rangoon
by a coasting steamer, in order to visit the ports of Akyab,
Kyoukpyoo and Chittagong. However, neither time nor oppor-
tunity would permit of this ; my energy, too, was fast becoming
conspicuous by its absence. So on the morning of the 28th I
boarded the B.I. mail steamer Cocanada for Calcutta. The
voyage across the Bay of Bengal took us two days. We anchored
for the night off Saugor Island and at daybreak started the
passage up the Hngli river, whieli is one of the most dangerous
rivers in the world for deep-sea sliips to navigate. TheHugli is
the most western and jilso Hie iiiost im])ortant cliannel })y whicli
the Ganges enters tlie liay of Bengal. The river off tjie Saugor
Island is very wide, being at that point at least ten miles across.
]Many of the mud-banks in the bed of the Ilugli are continually
shifting and numei'ous shoals lie in the; fairway of the channel ; so
comjHilsory ])ilotage is neeessary and only daylight navigation
is allowed.
The banks of the rivei' are low, though tiu^ scenery in parts
is pretty, as many green stretches of ])addy lands soften the
386
FROM MOULMEIN TO CALCUTTA
commercial aspect of the surroundings. Jute and cotton mills
are numerous.
We moored off Eden Ghat in the afternoon just a little before
sunset. As it was Sunday I took a stroll in Eden Gardens in the
hopes of hearing the band play, but on arriving there I found
that it could be heard every day except Sunday, when, of course,
no one would have had any leisure time to listen to the music !
I was reminded of the Johannesburg Library : it was so typically
English and insular.
Being unable to listen to the band I did the next best thing :
I watched the elite of Calcutta, of all shades, driving up and
down the Strand Road in tum-tums, motor cars, carriages and
iikka-gharries. Being thick-skinned, I was insensible to the many
withering glances on the disgrace and humiliation of being on
my feet. When the society of Calcutta had vanished I sat down
in the gardens and enjoyed the cool evening air, which was most
refreshing after the moist and sultry heat of the day.
As a town Calcutta is extremely well built and is entirely
modern. From an architectural point of view it is undoubtedly
the finest town east of Suez. Its museum is one of the best in
the w^orld ; the commercial man visiting India will find ample
reward in inspecting the Economic section, which will giYQ him
a comprehensive idea of the industries of the country.
A good system of tramcars enabled me to visit the outskirts
and suburbs of the tow-n ; though to " do " the town in a gharry
is the correct thing if you cannot borrow a motor car. The hire
for these vehicles is very moderate : eight annas an hour to
the sensible visitor, from one rupee to five for an American
globe-trotter.
I spent more than one pleasant afternoon out at the Tollygungc
Golf Club, which possessed an excellent eighteen-hole course.
As I had no clubs with me I contented myself by sitting under
the shady trees that surrounded the picturesque club-house and
watcliing the players foozling their putts. This was not always
the case though, as I witnessed some excellent golf ; it was of
as high a standard as were the " pegs " in the hospitable clubs.
o^7
A WAXDERER'S TRAIL
Whilst I was in Calcutta a native puja (festival) was being
held and the streets through Kalighat were crowded with a
noisily devout mass.
Perhaps the most instructive visit that I made during my
sliort stay in Calcutta was to a jute mill, of which there are a
great number. The one I visited was at Kidder])ore. To get there
I had to drive through the spacious maidan (in this Calcutta has
a great advantage over Bombay), and passed on my way many
energetic residents taking an early morning canter. Horse-riding
is about the most suitable form of exercise during the hot
M'cather.
The process of weaving the jute into gunny sacks was most
interesting to watch. The gunny export business of Calcutta is
one of considerable importance ; even more so is the export of
raw jute, which goes chiefly to Scotland.
As the usual measure of Unsuccess had met one more scheme
of mine to find some permanent resting-place, there lay before
me the only alternative of continuing my journey to Japan.
Once again I am able to record a splendid act of kindness :
one that gave me the opportunity of working my way to Japan
in the capacity of assistant purser, and of saving a goodly sum
from my slender resources. The steamer I joined was the Xapaj.
one of a fleet of steamers that traded between Calcutta and
Japan, via the Straits Settlements. It needed but such another
considerate action to iill me with a sense of the kindness that
there is in the world- — and particularly the world of commerce.
Indeed, had it not been for the splendid fellowship of those on
whom I had so slight a claim, but who were always so ready to
extend a helping hand, always so ready to smooth my path.
I should never have got through.
I travelled for four months, from Africa through Eastern
lands, on just forty-three pounds, everywhere endeavouring to
fulfil the small duties incumbent on me ; so the strain on my
slender resource--, physical and mental, as well as financial, iwdy
be imagined. It is sufficient to say that not for a thousand
pounds would 1 d(j it again ! When I recall, as I pen these lines,
3^6
FROM MOULMEIN TO CALCUITA
the innumerable acts of kindness and hospitality, and the ever
delicate consideration for my limited finances, I feel I owe a
tremendous debt of gratitude ; and of the crime of ingratitude
may I never be accused.
It was the 12th October when the steamer Napaj cast off her
lines and left Calcutta on her voyage to Japan.
J«9
CHAPTER XIX
IN THE FAR EAST AGAIN
PENANG was our first port of call. Here we took on
board a large number of Chinamen who Avere bound
for Shanghai to join the levolutionary army. Small-
pox curbed their warlike spirit for a time ; we left them all
marooned on Quarantine Island, off Singapore, for a period of
a few weeks, as one of their number had been indiscreet enough
to catch the disease. We took on in their place, after the ship
was fumigated, another large batch for Hong-Kong. The coolie-
carrying trade on the China coast is a very profitable one. To
watch the stowing away of these Chinks and their quarrelling
for the best places was a favourite source of amusement.
Gambling, fighting, eating and sleeping were their chief
occupations on the voyage.
We reached Hong-Kong on the 30th, anchoring there on the
morning of that day : it lookcd^ — by night and by day — as
pretty as ever. Naturally evei-yonc in Hong-Kong was talking
of the revolution then going on. The town was full to over-
flowing with Chinese refugees from Canton, many of the
godowns having been converted into hotels to house them.
Trade was practically at a standstill and all the business men
were heartily sick of the whole affair and praying for a speedy
settlement. The business man is ever the best advocate for
peace ! There was some slight disorder in the town, as many
of the Cantonese did not quite appreciate the fact that they were
in British territory ; the sight of a few armed patrols in tiic
streets soon convinced them, however, that they were not
under Chinese rule.
After four days in Hong-Kong we steamed north for Shanghai,
390
IN THE FAR EAST AGAIN
where we berthed on the night of the 5th. As we lay off Woosang
prior to steaming up the Yangtze, we found that the Woosang
Forts had changed hands the preceding day. The changing
hands had consisted of the Revolutionaries marching in
courageously on the one side whilst the gallant defenders
marched defiantly out on the other. The Chinese city of
Shanghai had also been captured just before our arrival by
another movement of this kind. These were, indeed, stirring
times !
Everything in the foreign concession was perfectly quiet.
As we steamed up the Yangtze towards Shanghai, we passed
several Chinese gimboats lying at anchor, flying the old Chinese
flag. They were flying no flag at all when we steamed out ;
their policy apparently was to wait and " look see " which side
was going to win. The weather in Shanghai was very cold, but
bracing, a little too much so after the moist heat of India and
Burma. Business was more or less at a standstill, the town of
Hankow having suffered badly from the many fights that had
taken place within its walls. The currency in Shanghai — always
a most perplexing problem, at least to me — was in even a more
complicated state. Whether things are good or bad, in China
one always seems to come off second best when changing
money.
Wc left Shanghai on the 8th for Japan, passing off Woosang
many battleships flying the flags of all the world save China,
as a reminder that the Chinese could kill as many of their own
countrymen as they liked, but that they must leave in peace
the nationals of the powers represented.
On the morning of the 10th the land of Japan appeared
above the horizon. By noon we were in the straits of Shimonseki,
where wc took on our Inland Sea pilot. The ports of Moji and
Sliimonseki, and the shipping that lay in the harbour were gaily
festooned, as the late Mikado had just arrived there on his way
to a military review in Kiushu.
The shores of the Inland Sea as v/e steamed slowly along
looked bleak and bare in the wintry sun. We anchored off
391
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
Kobe at noon on the day following ; and once again I was on
the hospitable soil of Japan.
I spent two months in Japan on the occasion of this second
visit. j\iy arrival was in no way opportune, as it was during
the middle of the schools' winter term, which meant that there
was no opportunity for me to get any teaching work to do.
On my arrival at Kobe I learnt by cable that another billet
that I had in view had fallen through. This last year of my
unorthodox travels was the hardest of all. During that time
things seemed to go from bad to worse ; and throughout this year
I had my faith in Humanity tried not a little. Friends consoled
me with the kindly reminder that the hour is always darkest
before dawn. That it might be the darkness that was ushering
in the typhoon was at times nearer my thought. But my friends
were right.
The bulk of the two months in Japan I spent in Tokio with
my friend, E. J. Harrison. This period I devoted to writing
many of the pages of this book, while waiting for a signal to
return to China in connection with a business arrangement ;
but the signal never came.
In the short while that I reinained in Japan I noticed
many changes in the life of Tokio. Japan everywhere seemed
to me to be sadder. And life seemed harder. It may have been
that I looked through differently-coloured spectacles ; but, what-
ever the cause, the deadly material aspect of twentieth century
Japan struck me most forcibly. Poverty and crime stalked the
streets ; ironclads and similar tokens of " civilisation " were
drawing heavily on the savings of the overtaxed inhabitants ;
speculation, embezzle]) lent and corruption ap])carcd to be the
order of tlic day. The soul of the Sanmrai seemed hidden.
On the last day of Ih^' year (1911) J said good-bye to Tokio
and my friend Hani :oii, and sailed lor Hong-Kong via Kobe;
again 1 was ioi'tunalc in arranging a very cheap passage. On
]2t]i Januai-y 1 arrived in Hong-Kong, M'itli eight dollars in my
pocket, to take- up a position as Foreign Corrcsjiondent to a
J92
\i'\':Ki '\'-: : "Mil-, I'l. \K
A S I Ki:i-: I 1 \ i |( .\< ,!-,■ iM
IN THE FAR EAST AGAIN
lai'gc Japanese firm there. Fate, however, again intervened.
A cable was awaiting me cancelling the appointment. This was
the third cable that I had received carrying a similar message
in the short space of six months. The only consolation I ob-
tained was that in no individual case was there any personal
reason for my being "turned down." I could not fight against
revolutions and the reorganisation of staffs. To the Chinese
upheaval I owe no debt of gratitude.
Some Japanese friends in Hong-Kong now stepped into the
breach, and it was not long before I had arranged to instruct
certain classes in English. Truly the Japanese were good
friends to me ! My life for the next few months in China was
uneventful. The days I devoted to the work of writing up
my travels, in the evenings I taught for my living, supple-
menting my small income by a few " leaders " in the local
papers. My health during that period was none too good. I
was troubled on and off with dysentery, and the muggy heat of
the rainy season of Hong-Kong lowered my vitality still further.
It was, however, the mental strain that at last ordered me to
take a respite in the shape of a sea trip in a coal tramp to Japan
and back. By June I had drafted my book ; so I stole three
v.eeks from my labours and went over to Kiushu to seek out a
spot where neither a missionary nor an American tourist could
be found. I chose 31iike — the Cardiff of Japan. On the trip
and during the week there I spent a restful time, returning to
Hong-Kong much refreshed.
]My only relaxation in China w^as swimming. Every evening
about five o'clock I went with my Japanese friends in a steam
launch to one of the small bays and swam and bathed there to
my heart's content ; some of my companions were no mean
swimmers. Nothing occurred during those few months to break
the monotony of life in an Eastern port, save perhaps the at-
tempted assassination of the new Governor of Hong-Kong. I
was an eye-watness of that incident, not ten yards off. It was
the narrowest escape one could have witnessed.
I made few acquaintances in Hong-Kong, having neither
J93
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
the money to join the club, nor, I confess, the inclination ;
I have not the makings of a club-man in me. Most of those with
whom I had any acquaintance were newspaper men, whom, as
a rule, I have found to be broadmindcd. Space forbids my dwell-
ing further on my stay in Hong-Kong, though I could devote
a chapter to various incidents that occurred, from a row with
my next-door neighbour (an actor out of work) to an informal
luncheon with Sir Frederick Lugard, then the Governor of the
island. I have written enough ; both you, reader, and I are tired
of it all. We are both awaiting the coming of the word " FINIS."
By the end of July this book was finished as I thought, and
on its way to London. Then, and only then, did I decide to
return home.
I had put by a little money — barely fifteen pounds — with
which to return. So I decided to go via Siberia in an emigrant
train, and reach London with a fiver still in my pocket. From
Hong-Kong to London on ten pounds ! Impossible, my reader
say^. Not a bit of it ! Not only possible, but comparatively
easy.
In the end, however, I did not go home overland. ]\ly plans
were all laid for that end when my Japanese friends told me
there was a timber tramp about to leave Hokkaido, in Japan, for
Antwerp. They suggested that I should join her in the capacity of
anything from a first-class passenger to interpretei'. Though it
meant covering old ground I accepted right away. To be frank,
I was funking the Siberian trip on an emigrant train during
the snows ; for you cannot go on Ijurning the candle at both
ends for six years and be just what you were when you started.
My steamer was reported due at Singapore the middle of
September, so on tJie first day of the month I left for that port
on the German mail ; unfortimately 1 had to pay fare — one of
the few occasions when Fate left me in the lurch. Conscquenth-
I travelled third class ; but third on the German line is nearly
as good as second on the English or Japanese lines. Save a run
through the tail end of a typhoon wliich smashed us up a
little, we had an uneventful passage. For fellow-travellers I
J94
IN THE FAR EAST AGAIN
had a young American from jManila, a Scotch engineer, both
good fellows, a couple of young Japanese girls, bound, I fear
(I should say, I know), for the " dives " of Singapore, an Austrian
woman travelling as a distressed British subject, and one or
two others of divers nationalities. The Austrian " lady " was
the source of much amusement. She had been married to a
" Tommy," who had deserted her ; hence her claim on the British
nation. For inquisitiveness and curiosity she had no rival. The
Scotch " chief " warned me five minutes after we had struck
up conversation. " She already knows your name," he said.
" I watched her quizzing the labels on your baggage. You wait
a bit and she will put you through your cross-examination :
the funny part of it is, she always prefaces her questions with,
' You know, I don't want to be inquisitive.' " The " chief " was
right, for Hong-Kong was not yet out of sight before the old
dame sidled up to me and started operations. Her first question
was pretty straight to the point : " Are you going to Singapore ? "
I answered briefly in the affirmative and awaited further de-
velopments. " We have a funny lot of passengers," she went on
in a confiding manner, " they all seem frightened to tell you
anything. Now, I hate inquisitive people, don't you ? " I
murmured, "Yes." She talked on for a bit and then said,
" Have you been long in China ? " And then, hastily: " You
know, I don't want to be inquisitive." I replied to this and many
other pertinent questions very discreetly, till the old dame
awoke to the fact that I was giving nothing away. We got quite
a lot of fun out of her before Singapore was reached ; for she
was as comnmnicative about herself as inquisitive about others.
We soon knew her whole history from the day she left Austria
to the day she tackled the British consul at Shanghai for a free
passage to Singapore to seek out her erring husband. " Let me
catch him with ' that girl ' " (an anonymous letter with an
account of liis " goings on " with another woman had brought
our friend down) " and I will let her know that I am not too
old to mark her yet." It boded ill for the unfortunate husband,
all unconscious of his irate wife's impending arrival. 1 met the
395
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
old lady again when I returned Ironi Johore, as I was poking
my head into a " dive " in Singapore ; she welcomed me with
open arms. She hadn't found her husband, however ; he had
heard of her coming and had migrated north.
On arrival at Singapore I found that the latest news of my
steamer was that she would not arrive for at least another two
weeks. So I found myself with an idle fortnight on my hands
and very little money. " What am I to do with myself for these
two weeks ? " was the question I asked myself domiciled in a
little Japanese hotel in the heart of the town, till I suddenly
recalled a man I knew on the rubber estates in Johore. So I
wrote to him : " I am at a loose end for ten days aw^aiting my
ship. May I visit you on your estate ? " Whilst awaiting the reply
I was asked by my Japanese fi'iends in Singapore whether I
would care to go and visit their rubber estate on the Johore
River. I gladly seized this opportunity, and that same day I
embarked on a small steamer bound for Raya.
A four hours' sea trip on the small launch through the quiet
waters off Singapore, studded with low islands girded with
mangrove swamjos, thickly timbered and green in tropical
foliage, brouglit me to Raya. On the way I caught glimpses of
little Malay villages, which consisted of a collection of thatched
huts erected on piles nestling amidst sheltering palms. At many
of these villages the launch stojjpcd to take on and disembark
])assengers, a\]io were conveyed to and from the shore in small
sampans.
At the time ol' my visit the Japanese rubber estate had been
only o})eiicd sojiic twenty-one months ; so not more than one
th(jusand acres had been planted with rubber. Thirteen hun-
dred acres more had been cleared and were ready for plant-
ijtg : tlie rest \va^ in Ww. eoiu' .e of clearing. It was estimated
by (lie iiiajiagcmcnt that another eighteen months would see
the cstnlc a!l planted. TJiis estate was one of the many worked
by the Japanese i]i 31u'aya ; in the last ten years they have
beeii investing heavily in I'ubber. in extent the estate was live
thousand aci'c.s, which is the usual recognised area for rubber
J9^
'r,\rn\i: l<ri;i;i;K I'kkk
\i \!--,i;i: I \ I ]> .\ ' M M \i \\ \
IN THE FAR EAST AGAIN
plantations in Malaya ; though there are some as large as
ten thousand acres, but this area has been generally found to
be too much for one property.
Tlie magnitude oJ' the undertaking to lay out a rubber estate
is hardly fully realised by stay-at-home shareholders. It means
clearing a large stretch of virgin land, encumbered with a thick
jungle growth of timber, entwining foliage and vegetation.
Every growing thing on the virgin soil must be removed and
burnt, even to the weeds and trailing grass that suck nourish-
ment from the ground, before the young rubber trees can be
planted ; and this is no small task. Even then the shareholder
must possess his soul in patience for at least another four years,
if not five, before the trees will yield him one penny dividend
in the shape of rubber.
A rubber estate in the course of clearing is, consequently,
hardly what would be termed a picturesque or romantic sight.
Great patches of desolate-looking ground, littered with felled,
bui-nt and charred timber, meet the eye on all sides, where
before had waved graceful trees and shady foliage. The sloping
hills are barren and ugly to the eye of all — ^save the planter, for
he terms them beautiful ; the bleak weeded stretch of land
appeals to him, Avhilst the native jungle which so delights the
visitor is to him a painful eyesore to be removed as soon as
possible. Beauty is, after all, only a relative term.
Alter an enjoyable visit I returned to Singapore. On my
retmii I J'ound a letter awaiting me. It v/as not, however, from
my friend but From the manager of the estate, and was to the
effect that he had opened my letter thinking it was a business
comnmnieatio]!. Apparently, he wrote, 1 had not learnt of my
friend's departiac i'rom IMalay for England ; but, his letter
concluded, would 1 })ass the " loose end " with him as his guest.
For true hospitahty you must go to the East !
The next day saw me travelling throiigli eternal groves of
rubber to Mengkibol in the centre of Johore where the estate
was ; fo]', iiccdU'ss to say. I accepted my unknown friend's
invitation most gratefully.
397
A WANDERER'S TRAIL
I must confess that to me the rubber estate managed by
Japanese seemed the superior. Good roads in the foreign
rubber estates (I use the word " foreign " as against Japanese)
were lacking. The conditions prevailing to-day in the rubber
plantations of ]Malay seem to mc very similar to those that were
on the Rand before the Boer War. Favouritism, waste, and
ignorance or inexperience, are rife ; the ideal system of manage-
ment has, in my opinion, yet to be evolved. Such was my
passing impression.
I returned from Mengkibol with my host, who was an excellent
fellow — a Scotsman. In all my wanderings the best Britisher
I have met abroad is the Scotsman ; the worst the Australian.
I can only conclude that the home training of the one is the best,
of the other the worst. I must confess I never met in all my
wanderings an Australian I could really trust. I hope one day
Fate will give me the opportunity of meeting the real Australian.
My last night in Singapore was the " swiftest " night I have
ever spent. Trust a man in Rubber to do the honours well.
It was my last night in the East, and one, I fear, very typical of
Kipling's words :
'• Sliip me somewhere east of Suez, where the best is like the worst.
Where there ainl no ten commandments, and a man can raise a thirst.''
I mixed everything Chinese with everything Scotch and
English. I also smoked three or four pipes of opium out of curio-
sity, but to my disgust never had any beautiful dreams, as I)e
Quincey had led me to sup]wse. Such was my last evening in the
East — -the East that never will be the West, the East that lures
and yet repels, the East that has made many and marred nioi-e.
Next day I sailed for England.
Tiic days sped on. Ceylon, Sokotra Island, faded away.
Perim w;is reached. Port Said was soon left and then the thick
fogs off the S])anish Coast wrapped us in a cloud. All the time
my thoughts were busy, roaming in space. And I had a lot to
think al>out ! I thought of myself at one and twenty, full of
3^^
IN THE FAR EAST AGAIN
Hope and Ambition, setting out to see the world with all the
enthusiasm of Youth ; and then of myself at twenty-seven,
returning home with little to show for my years of travel — save
the gift of Experience and Knowledge of mankind. I often
wondered during those hours whether I should ever have made
the initial step if I had foreseen the path that lay before me.
Few respond to the call of the Unknown that comes to us in
the springtime of Life ; most of us strangle it at birth. One must
be yomig to see the world at its best, to laugh at the discomforts
and glorify the reward— but the reward of true Travel declares
itself slowly, and is not to be measured in terms of cash.
399
INDEX
Alaska, Sz et seq. ; cattle-driving in,
75-81 ; climate of, 87 ; scenery on
coast of, So
Alert Bay, 103
Algiers, i9yig(^
Alleppi, 3<'--3^^3
America, customs olticers in, 200 ; first
impressions of, 31 et seq. ; immigra-
tion tax, 30 ; Independence Day in,
68 ; sports in, 54-69
Antung, 1D9-170; Japanese settlement
lu, 1(19 ; Alukden Railway, 169, 171 ;
theatre in, 170
Ataran River, 374, 375
Azores, the, 196
Baseball, American, 54; Japanese,
147
Beira, 343
Bethell, Air E. T., 157, 160 et seq. (see
Vang - Ki - Tak; ; as champion of
Korea, i')o ; exposure of Japanese
methods. 161 ; trial at Seoul, 162
Bombay, 351-352
J^onanza Creek, 94
Boston, 199, 201
Botletle Kiver, 284-2S5, 308 ; boat
constructed to f(jrd, 2S4
f^uddiusm in Japan, 137
Buddhist village school in Burma, 377
J3uruia, 366 et seq. ; Golden Bagoda,
3'>o ; nationalities in, 373 ; rice
mills, 369 ; scenery o , 307-368 ;
tea^v industry, 370
l?urmese courtesy, 371
C
Calcutta, 387
Calicut, 356
Calitornia, 2') r'
jute mills, 388
i"-/. ; fruit-farming in,
Candle Island, 359
Cannanore, ^^^
Changchun, 173, 174
Chief Khama, 245-246 ; his country,
241-245
Chinese cemetery in Mukden, 173
Cochin, 358 et seq. ; cocoanut industry
of> 35'^'359 ' Jewish colony in, 360-
361 ; relics of Dutch colonisation,
361
Cockburn, Mr H., 163-166
Coronel Bay," 25-26
D
Dacoits of Kyno Ktan-;, 368
Dai Han Mai It Shi}npo,i^j
Dairen, 179
Damara native, the, 247, 283, 315-318
musical talent of, 2 S3
Dawson City, 93, 94, 95; "M ^v X'
saloon in, 95
Delagoa Bay, 340
Ditawane \Vell, 257-258
Edi'catiox in Ja[)an (see Japan)
Full Sax, 144
I-\isan, 152
G
^-/ ; horse-breai.mg m, 30
2 C
Galapagos Isles, 27
Georgia, Gulf of, 78
Gibraltar, 196
Gold-mining industry of Rand, 220 et
seq. : dangers of, 224 ; experiences
underground, 227 et seq. ; nati\"e
labour, 221, 237 ; scale of payment
of miners, 220 ;
Gro izin or (rcorgian of i iarl^in, 177
401
INDEX
H
Halifax, 197
Harbin, 176-178
Hawaiian Islands, 123, 124
Hayama, 143
Heina Veld, 309-312
Hong-Kong, 185-187, 390, 393 ; climate
of, 186 ; maskeeitis in, 186
Honolulu, 123-127
Hood River, 54
Hunghutzes, brigands of Manchuria, 174
I
Indian Seamanship, 364
Inhambane, 341
Ismailia, 194
Ito, Prince, 160
J
Japan, education in, 135-136 ; foreign
influence in, 148; hospitality in, 132,
133. I79' 180 ; impressions of, 131-
134. 140, 142 ; lax discipline on
steamers, 144 ; teaching English in,
135. 139
Japanese mihtary administration in
Korea, 153 ; morality, 140 ; rulj'.ier
estate (see Singapore) ; settlers in
Korea, 140 ; sports, 146 - 151 ;
theatres, 169-170
Joagalem Mountains. 36S
Johannesburg, 207, 208, 209 et sea. ;
amusements in, 210; gold-mining in,
207 et seq. ; nationalities in, 209 ;
recruiting company, 238 ; running a
bottle store in, 332-336 ; tea-rooms
in, 212
JujutsH, 139, 148
K
Kalahari Dlsert, 242 e' seq. ; lion
veld. 276-278 ; nati\-es of, 254-25'.. ;
trekking in, 250 et seq.
Kin Choung, 368
Kingwilliamstown, 206
Klondyke, 94-99
Kod')~Ii'K'a>: of Tokio, 149-150
Korea, British Consul-General of (see
Mr H. (iockburn) ; Daily Xei^^s, 157,
if'.oetscq. : Japanese military control
in, 159-160 ; Japanese >c'^i)ne in
I'^io et seq. ; National Debt Re-
demption h'und, 1^.3, \h()
Kunsan Mission Station, 153, 154
Kurube, 293-294
Kwangchangtsu, 174, 175
Kyeik Myaw, 376
Lake Bennett, 91, 99
Lake Xgami, 286
Lotlhakane Well, 260, 261
M
Magellan, Straits of, 24-25 ; Darwin's
description of, 25
^lalabar, fish-curing industry of, 357
Manchuria. i6g et seq. ; agricultural
produce of, 174, 176
Mangalore, 354; tile manufacture at,
354"355
Martaban, Gulf of, 366
Mestchersky, Prince, 175
Miike, 183, 393
Militarism, evils of, 159^2! seq., 28S-2S9
Moji, 145, 1S4, 391
Mokpo, 153
Mombasa, 349-350
Mopipi, 264, 265
Mosarwas of Kalahari, 254-256
Moulmein, 368-372 ; Golden Pagoda,
371 ' 373 '' River (sec Salween River)
Mount f^tna, 195
Mount Zingvaik, 3S1-3S3 ; ascent of,
381
^lukden, 172, 173
Muroran, 129, 131
N
National Debt Redemption Fund
(see Korea)
New York, 200
Ngabyima, 377
Ngamiland, British colonisation
methods in, 288 ; horse-sickness in,
297, 298 ; nati\^e of, 287 ; recruiting
natives in, 298, 300, 304 ; trekking
through, 260 et seq.
O
Oregon, 40 et seq. ; hop-hoeing in, 60-
61 ; lumbering in, 42-50 ; saw-mills,
53, 54 ; strawberry-picking in, 56, 57
Ovamboland, native of, 238
40 i
INDEX
Pacific Ocean pilot chart, 185 ;
storms in, 115-119, 129, 130; voyage
across, 1 14-13 1
Palapye, 241
Penang, 188, 189, 390 ; products of,
189
Perim, 191, 192
Pingyang, 169
Point du Galle, 190
Port Arthur, 180-182 ; War Souvenir
Museum at, 182
Portland, 40, 53, 61-63 '> employment
offices in, 61-63
Port Said, 195
Port Simpson, 102
Port Tewfik, 193
Prince Rupert, 102, 103
Puget Sound, 67, 68
Punta Arenas, 25
R
Raxi) (see Gold-mining Industry)
Rangoon, 384-386 ; River, 384 ; Shwe
Dagon Pagoda of, 385
Rhakops, 309
Stella, 51-52
Suez, 193 ; Canal dues, 193 ; Canal pilot,
194
Tacoma, 66 ; coaling at, 1 12
TeUicherri, 355
Tiehling Heights, 174
Tokio, 135 e^ seq., 392 ; rowing in, 147 ;
Rugby football in, 146 ; tram-
crowding in, 142
Tsau, 290-292, 296 ; doctor at, 299-
300 ; races, 305-306
Tuticorin, 364
Typhoons, 184-185 ; in Bay of Bengal,
366
Vancouver, 72 et seq., 104 ; first ex-
periences in, 105, 106 ; Japanese
labour in, 104 ; remittance-man of,
72 ; running a cigar store in, 74-76 ;
Island, 112, 113 ; Indian settlers on
coast, 103
Victoria, 108
W
St Vincent Island, 23
Salween (or Moulmein) River, 367
Sandwich Islands, 123
San Francisco, 27-28, 39, 109-111;
labour war in, 29 ; results of earth-
quake, 29-30
Sanger Island, 386
Seattle, 67-70, 108
Seoul, 157 ; hospitality in, 158 ; Press,
157, 158, 168
Serowe, 245
Seymour Narrows, 79
Shanghai, 183, 391 ; currency in, 391
Shimonseki, Straits of, 391
Singapore, 188, 396-398 ; Japanese
rubber estate, 396-397
Skagway, 82-84
Sokotra Island, 191
South Manchuria Railway, 173
Stateu Island, 199
Wellesley Province, i88-i8g
Whitehorse, copper-mining at, 97
Whitehorse Rapids, 97
White Pass, 85, 91, 99
Woosang, 391
Wrangel, 100
Yano-Ki-Tak, 161, 162 ; arrest of,
163; mistaken release of, 164-166;
trial at Seoul, 166
Yangtse River, 183
"Yankee" reporting, instances of,
123, 124, 126
Yukon River, 92-93, 96-97
Zanzibar, 344-348 ; clove industry of,
345-347
403
FormL-9-15,,,-7,'32
R4ov/ iiidrer -
A v/anderer' s
trail.
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