BACK TO INDIA—DISILLUSIONMENT OF OUR FOLLOWERS WITH REGARD TO SOME OF THE BLESSINGS OF CIVILIZATION—MILITARY HOSPITALITY—RETURN TO CALCUTTA.

We had just got into our fresh quarters when our carters turned up. They had received a severe beating for their carelessness, and had then been released. We paid them both off, and were not sorry at the thought of having seen the last of the Chinese muleteer.

At dinner that night we met a Mr. Denbigh, who is engaged in large business transactions in Saghalien, Vladivostock, and Japan, and who was now supplying sleepers for the new railway to Pekin. He made a most tempting offer, which we could not accept, namely, that we should accompany him in a ship he had chartered, run over in her to Japan, and then either go on in her to Canton, or change into one of the regular liners to Shanghai and Hong Kong. Next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, we went with Mr. Denbigh to try and fit ourselves out with some new clothes, but we did not succeed in getting much beyond stockings and shoes. We then went to the office of Messrs. Forbes & Co., and presented our letters, showing the amount we had drawn from their various agents, and settled the account in English money.

In the afternoon we met Mr. W. H. Forbes, an Edinburgh man, who told us that our quickest route would be to go by a steamer belonging to Messrs. Butterfield and Swire, called the Nanchang, one of the very few running direct to Hong Kong. This would save several days, but would not allow of our seeing Shanghai; but time outweighed all other considerations, and we practically decided at once to adopt this course. In the evening we dined with Surgeon-Major Henston and the mess of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Company, being treated on all hands with the greatest possible kindness.

Next morning we finally decided to go by the Nanchang direct to Hong Kong, and, with a view to this, we went round to Messrs. Butterfield and Swire's office. Here we learnt that, by taking the midday train to Tong Ku, we should get on board comfortably before dark. This sounded simple enough, but we still had something to learn with regard to Chinese travelling.

From Tientsin to Tong Ku is about thirty miles, and two trains run daily each way. Ships can come up the river as far as Tientsin, but, at this time of year, they seldom care to run the risk of being frozen in. We arrived at the railway station in good time, and there found a scene of the most horrible confusion. As soon as the train came alongside the platform, there was a general rush for the carriages, and every seat was taken. Not being accustomed to this sort of thing, we got left, but by the kindness of a Dr. Irwin, and a very nice Chinese official, we managed to put our servants and our baggage into an open waggon, while we ourselves travelled in the brake van.[21]

There was a bitterly cold wind blowing, fortunately at our backs, so we kept the brake door open for fresh air only having to shut it when the train stopped. Had the wind been against us, our servants would have had a very poor time. We found, however, that we had a great pull over people in the carriages, for we had a stove on which we roasted chestnuts the whole way to Tong Ku.

The Chinese gentleman to whom we were indebted for our seat in the train had been educated in America and spoke English fluently; he was a very go-ahead man, and was very anxious that the management of the railway should be put into the hands of foreigners, as the Chinese officials were quite helpless. But, with all his admiration for foreign products, he said that there was one thing he could get in China to suit him, and nowhere else, that was "spectacles." He certainly wore a splendid pair, for which he had given Ts.80—a very heavy price, but the glasses were extraordinarily good.

This was the first railway Esau and Lassoo had ever seen. They had long been looking forward to it, and had asked us many questions as to how the train moved, etc., but I am afraid their first experience was not an encouraging one.

On our arrival at Tong Ku, we heard that the Nanchang had gone outside the bar to complete her cargo, but no one could tell us how to get out to her. After walking for about a mile we came to the end of the wharf, and, by pure good luck, found a tug just on the point of leaving. "Where is the Nanchang?" we shouted. "I'm going to take a lighter out there at once; look sharp, if you're coming on board," was the reply. The tug began to move, but our repeated shouts brought it to a standstill. The pilot was an impatient man, and our coolies who carried our goods were tardy men, so that we just, and only just, managed to tumble our things and ourselves on board before the tug was in motion again.

As soon as our pilot had tugged us out alongside the lighter, he advised us to go aboard it with our luggage, and as we knew the Nanchang's cargo was on board also, we felt we could not be left behind. The pilot, too, promised that if he could not get us alongside the Nanchang that night, he would take us ashore to the hotel at Taku. It was bitterly cold as we scrambled from the tug into the lighter, and whilst our servants barricaded themselves from the cruel blast with our boxes and rugs, Malcolm and I gladly stepped below and partook of the small space available, and of the rough though kind hospitality of the uncouth Chinese crew. As we felt ourselves being tugged out to sea it grew colder and colder. At length, soon after nightfall, to our dismay, the pilot faithlessly deserted us. Visions of beds at the Taku Hotel vanished, to be replaced by the flow of wrath we would let the pilot have on the morrow. The only course left to us was to make the best of our situation. As we had made no provision for food, we asked our rough hosts, by signs, what they could give us for dinner. This finally was served up, consisting of tea and monkey-nuts. We smiled at one another as we did ample justice to our last Chinese meal, and prayed that we might never fare worse.

I don't know how long I had slept, but suddenly I awoke. There was considerable hubbub aloft, and somehow I felt that we were dragging our anchor and drifting out to sea. Rushing up on deck, I found the wind was blowing so hard that, instead of an anchor, we were using a bit of a sail, and that after all I had needlessly left the warmth below. Soon after daybreak we saw a tug coming towards us, but, alas! were unable to vent our wrath on our last night's pilot, for this one proved to be another tug. This quickly brought us alongside the Nanchang, where we were at first pointed out as being two Russians, but further acquaintance with the hardy and kind-hearted skipper and hospitable officers soon dissolved their first opinion. The Nanchang had comfortable quarters for two passengers, with a liberal table. The cargo consisted of Chinese wine, nuts and bones, which latter are utilised for some process in refining sugar. We ourselves never approved of the process, for on a roughish day the odours from these bones were not always welcome.

The following morning, the 6th December, we rose to find ourselves almost blocked in with white drifting masses of ice—quite a Nansenic scene. It seemed as though we could have walked for miles over the sea. Our weather-beaten skipper far from cheered us when he began to narrate how, a year or two ago, he had been caught by the winter just in the same way, and his ship had been blocked for some months. He graphically told us how they used to walk to shore, and of the jolly parties they had at the Taku Hotel! Our heads, however, were turned in a different direction; we were bound to return to India with the least possible delay, and we shuddered to think of our fate. Providentially the weather changed, our last cargo of bones was brought on board, as well as a third and welcome passenger, Mr. Carville, of the Consulate Service. By 5 p.m. we were once more under weigh, steaming some ten knots an hour.

Here, again, Esau and Lassoo began to enjoy a new experience, for they had never seen a big boat. Shahzad Mir had certainly seen one, though he had never made a voyage. Amongst other topics, on cold, still nights, on that vast expanse of unknown land, we had told them of the big ships, and their faces had brightened up as they pictured the leisure, comfort, and ample supply of everything that was in store for them. But, alas! the next morning, with a beam sea on, the three men lay prone, miserable, and unable to eat, while around lay the box of cigars we had provided them with. Poor fellows! they wished they were back again on the Chang, even along the shore of one of those dreary salt lakes. Though smiling at their unfortunate plight, we sincerely pitied them, and felt that it was but a poor return, after all the troubles and privations they had undergone for us. We were heartily glad to find the beam sea was of but short duration, and with its abatement our three men revived sufficiently to enjoy the remainder of the voyage to Hong Kong.

LASSOO AND ESAU.