Bert Wilson, Wireless Operator

by Marion Ames Taggart

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE LAND OF SURPRISES

  "Better fifty years of Europe Than a cycle of Cathay,"

  murmured Dick, yielding once more to his chronic habit of quotation.

  They had reached the gateway of Southern China and cast anchor in theharbor of Hong-Kong. It had been a day of great bustle and confusion,and all hands had been kept busy from the time the anchor chain rattledin the hawse-hole until dusk began to creep over the waters of the bay.The great cranes had groaned with their loads as they swung up the balesand boxes from the hold and transferred them to the lighters thatswarmed about the sides of the _Fearless_. The passengers, eager oncemore to be on _terra firma_ after the long voyage, had gone ashore, andthe boat was left to the officers and crew. These had been kept on boardby the manifold duties pertaining to their position, but were eagerlylooking forward to the morrow, when the coveted shore leave would begranted in relays to the crew, while the officers would be free to goand come almost as they pleased. It was figured that even with thegreatest expedition in discharging cargo and taking on the returnshipments for the "States," it would be nearly or quite a week beforethey began their return journey, and they promised themselves in thatinterval to make the most of their stay in this capital of the Orientalcommercial world.

  Now, as dusk fell over the waters, the boys sat at the rail and gazedeagerly at the strange sights that surrounded them. The harbor was fullof shipping gathered from the four quarters of the world. On every sidegreat liners lay, ablaze with light from every cabin and porthole.Native junks darted about saucily here and there, while queer yellowfaces looked up at them from behind the mats and lateen-rigged sails.The unforgettable smells of an Eastern harbor assailed their nostrils.The high pitched nasal chatter of the boatmen wrangling or jesting, wasunlike anything they had ever before heard or imagined. Everything wasso radically different from all their previous experiences that itseemed as though they must have kneeled on the magic carpet of Solomonand been transported bodily to a new world.

  Before them lay the city itself glowing with myriad lights. The Britishconcession with its splendid buildings, its immense official residences,its broad boulevards, might have been a typical European city set downin these strange Oriental surroundings. But around and beyond this laythe real China, almost as much untouched and uninfluenced by thesemodern developments as it had been for centuries. Great hills surroundedthe city on every side, and temples and pagodas uprearing their quaintsloping roofs indicated the location of the original native quarters. Inthe distance they could see the lights of the little cable railway thatcarried passengers to the heights from which they could obtain amagnificent view of the harbor and the surrounding country.

  The ship's doctor had come up just as Dick had finished his quotation.

  "Yes," he assented, as he lit a fresh cigar and drew his chair into thecenter of the group. "The poet might have gone further than that andintimated that even one year of Europe would be better than a 'cycle ofCathay.' There's more progress ordinarily in a single year amongEuropeans than there is here in twenty centuries."

  They gladly made room for him. The doctor was a general favorite and acosmopolitan in all that that word implies. He seemed to have beeneverywhere and seen everything. In the course of his profession he hadbeen all over the world, and knew it in every nook and corner. He had awealth of interesting experiences, and had the gift of telling them,when in congenial company, in so vivid and graphic a way, that it madethe hearer feel as though he himself had taken part in the eventsnarrated.

  "Of course," went on the doctor, "it all depends on the point of view.If progress is a good thing, we have the advantage of the Chinese. If itis a bad thing, they have the advantage of us. Now, they say it is a badthing. With them 'whatever is is right.' Tradition is everything. Whatwas good enough for their parents is good enough for them. They liveentirely in the past. They cultivate the ground in the same way and withthe same implements that their fathers did two thousand years ago. Tochange is to offend the gods. All modern inventions are devices of thedevil. Every event in their whole existence is governed by cut and driedrules. From the moment of birth to that of death, life moves along onefixed groove. They don't want railroads or telephones or phonographs ormachinery or anything else that to us seems a necessity of life.Whatever they have of these has been forced upon them by foreigners. Alittle while ago they bought up a small railroad that the French hadbuilt, paid a big advance on the original price, and then threw railsand locomotives into the sea."

  "Even our 'high finance' railroad wreckers in Wall Street wouldn't goquite as far as that," laughed Tom.

  "No," smiled the doctor, "they'd do it just as effectively, but in adifferent way."

  "And yet," interposed Dick, "the Chinese don't seem to me to be a stupidrace. We had one or two in our College and they were just as bright asanyone there."

  "They're not stupid by any means," replied the doctor. "There was atime, thousands of years ago, when they were the very leaders ofcivilization. They had their inventors and their experimenters. Why,they found out all about gunpowder and printing and the mariner'scompass, when Europe was sunk in the lowest depths of ignorance. At thattime, the intellect of the people was active and productive. But thenthey seem to have had a stroke of paralysis, and they've never gottenover it."

  "It always seemed to me," said Bert, "that 'Alice in Wonderland' shouldreally have been called 'Alice in China-land.' She and her mad hatterand the March hare and the Cheshire cat would certainly have felt athome here."

  "True enough," rejoined the doctor. "It isn't without reason that thishas been called 'Topsy-turvy' land."

  "For instance," he went on, "you could never get into a Chinaman's headwhat Shakespeare meant when he said: 'A rose by any other name wouldsmell as sweet.' The roses in China have no fragrance.

  "Take some other illustrations. When we give a banquet, the guestof honor is seated at the right of the host as a special mark ofdistinction. In China, he is placed at the left. If you meet a friend inthe street, out goes your hand in greeting. The Chinaman shakes handswith himself. If an American or European is perplexed about anything hescratches his head. When the Chinaman is puzzled, he scratches hisfoot."

  The comicality of this idea was too much for the gravity of theboys--never very hard to upset at any time--and they roared withlaughter. Their laugh was echoed more moderately by Captain Manning,who, relieved at last of the many duties attendant upon the first day inport, had come up behind them and now joined the group. The necessity ofkeeping up the strain and dignity of his official position had largelydisappeared with the casting of the anchor, and it was more with theeasy democracy and good fellowship of the ordinary passenger that hejoined in the conversation.

  "They have another queer custom in China that bears right on thedoctor's profession," he said, with a sly twinkle in his eye. "Herethey employ a doctor by the year, but they only pay him as long as theemployer keeps well. The minute he gets sick, the doctor's salaryceases, and he has to work like sixty to get him well in a hurry, sothat his pay may be resumed."

  "Well," retorted the doctor, "I don't know but they have the better ofus there. It is certainly an incentive to get the patient well at once,instead of spinning out the case for the sake of a bigger fee. I know alot of fashionable doctors whose income would go down amazingly if thatsystem were introduced in America."

  "You'll find, too," said the captain, "that the Chinaman's idea ofwhat is good to eat is almost as different from ours as their otherconceptions. There's just about one thing in which they agree with us,and that is on the question of pork. They are very fond of this, and youhave all read, no doubt, the story told by Charles Lamb of the Chinesepeasant whose cabin was burned, together with a pig who had shared itwith the family. His despair at the loss of the pig was soon turned torejoicing when he smelled the savory odor of roast pork and learned forthe first time how good it was. But, outside of that, we don't have muchin common. They care very lit
tle for beef or mutton. To make up forthis, however, they have made a good many discoveries in the culinaryline that they regard as delicacies, but that you won't find in anyAmerican cook book. Rats and mice and edible birds' nests and shark finsare served in a great variety of ways, and those foreigners who have hadthe courage to wade through the whole Chinese bill of fare say it issurprising to find out how good it is. After all, you can get used toanything, and we Europeans and Americans are becoming broader in ourtastes than we used to be. Horse meat is almost as common as beef inBerlin; dogs are not disdained in some parts of France, and only theother day I read of a banquet in Paris where they served stuffedangleworms and pronounced them good."

  "I imagine it will be a good while, however, before we get to the pointwhere rats and mice are served in our restaurants," said Tom, with agrimace.

  "Yes," rejoined the captain, "we'll probably draw the line there andnever step over it. But you'll have a chance pretty soon to sampleChinese cooking, and if you ask no questions and eat what is set beforeyou, you will probably find it surprisingly good. 'What the eye doesn'tsee the heart doesn't grieve over,' you know. And when you come to thedesserts, you will find that there are no finer sweetmeats in the worldthan those served at Chinese tables."

  "Another thing that seems queer to us Western people," said the doctor,"is their idea of the seat of intellect. We regard it as the head. Theyplace it in the stomach. If the Chinaman gets off what he thinks to be awitty thing, he pats his stomach in approval."

  "I suppose when his head is cut off, he still goes on thinking," grinnedTom.

  "That wouldn't phase a Chinaman for a minute," answered the doctor."He'd retort by asking you if you'd go on thinking if they cut you inhalf."

  "Then, if you wanted to praise a Chinese author, I suppose, instead ofalluding to his 'bulging brow,' it would be good form to refer to his'bulging stomach,'" laughed Ralph.

  "Gee," put in Tom, "if that were so, I've seen some fat people in theside shows at the circus that would have it all over Socrates."

  "There's one thing," went on the doctor, "where they set us an examplethat we well might follow, and that is in the tolerance they have forthe religious views of other people. There isn't any such thing aspersecution or ostracism in China on the score of religious belief.There are three or four religions and all are viewed with approval andkindly toleration. A man, for instance, will meet several strangersin the course of business or of travel, and they will fall intoconversation. It is etiquette to ask the religious belief of your newacquaintances, so our Chinaman asks the first of them: 'Of what religionare you?' 'I practice the maxims of Confucius,' is the response. 'Verygood, and you?' turning to the second. 'I am a follower of Lao-tze.' Thethird answers that he is a Buddhist, and the first speaker winds up theconversation on this point by shaking hands--with himself--and geniallyremarking: 'Ah, well, we are all brothers after all.'"

  "They certainly have the edge on us there," remarked Bert. "I wish wehad a little of that spirit in our own country. We could stand a lotmore of it than we have."

  "Outside of the question of religion, however," went on the doctor, "wemight think that they carry politeness too far to suit our mode ofthinking. If you should meet a friend and ask after the health of hisfamily, you would be expected to say something like this: 'And how isyour brilliant and distinguished son, the light of your eyes and futurehope of your house, getting on?' To this your friend would probablyreply: 'That low blackguard and detestable dog that for my sorrow iscalled my son is in good health, but does not deserve that your glorioushighness should deign to ask about him.'"

  "You will notice," said the captain when the laugh had subsided, "thatthe doctor uses the son as an illustration. The poor daughter wouldn'teven be inquired about. She is regarded as her father's secret sorrow,inflicted upon him by a malignant decree of fate. In a commercialsense, the boy is an asset; the girl is a liability. You hear it saidsometimes, with more or less conviction, that the world we live in is a'man's world.' However that may be modified or denied elsewhere, itis the absolute truth as regards China. If the scale of a nation'scivilization is measured by the way it treats its women,--and I believethis to be true,--then the Celestial Kingdom ranks among the verylowest. From the time she comes, unwelcomed, into the world, until,unmourned, she leaves it, her life is not worth living. She is the slaveof the household, and, in the field, she pulls the plough while the manholds the handles. In marriage, she is disposed of without the slightestreference to her own wishes, but wholly at the whim of her parents, andoften sees the bridegroom's face for the first time when he comes totake her to his own house. There she is as much a slave as before. Herhusband can divorce her for the most flimsy reasons and she has noredress. No, it isn't 'peaches and cream' to be a woman in China."

  "It doesn't seem exactly a paradise of suffragettes," murmured Ralph.

  "No," interjected Tom, "the Government here doesn't have to concernitself about 'hunger strikes' or 'forcible feeding.'"

  "To atone to some extent for this hateful feature of family life," saidthe doctor, "they have another that is altogether admirable, and that isthe respect shown to parents. In no country of the world is filialreverence so fully displayed as here. A disobedient son is almostunthinkable, and a murderer would scarcely be regarded with moredisapproval. From birth to old age, the son looks upon his father withhumility and reverence, and worships him as a god after he is dead.There is nothing of the flippancy with which we are too familiar in ourown country. With us the 'child is father of the man,' or, if he isn't,he wants to be. Here the man always remains the father of the child."

  "Yes," said Bert, "I remember in Bill Nye's story of his early life hesays that at the age of four 'he took his parents by the hand and ledthem out to Colorado.'"

  "And that's no joke," put in the captain. "All the foreigners that visitour country are struck by the independent attitude of children to theirparents."

  "Another thing we have to place to the credit of this remarkablepeople," he went on, "is their love for education. The scholar is heldin universal esteem. The road to learning is also the road to thehighest honors of the State. Every position is filled by competitiveexaminations, and the one who has the highest mark gets the place. Ofcourse their idea of education is far removed from ours. There is noattempt to develop the power of original thinking, but simply to becomefamiliar with the teaching and wisdom of the past. Still, with all itsdefects, it stands for the highest that the nation knows, and they crownwith laurels the men who rise to the front rank. Of course they wouldn'tcompare for a moment with the great scholars of the Western world.Still, you know, 'in a nation of the blind, the one-eyed man is king,'and their scholars stand out head and shoulders above the general level,and are reverenced accordingly."

  "I suppose that system of theirs explains why the civil service in ourown country is slightingly referred to as the 'Chinese' civil service bydisgruntled politicians," said Ralph.

  "Yes," said the captain, "and speaking of politicians, our Chinesefriends could give us cards and spades and beat us out at that game.They're the smoothest and slickest set of grafters in the world. Why,the way they work it here would make our ward politicians turn greenwith envy. We're only pikers compared with these fellows. Graft isuniversal all through China. It taints every phase of the national life.Justice is bought and sold like any commodity and with scarcely a traceof shame or concealment. The only concern the mandarin has with thecase brought before him is as to which side will make him the richestpresent. It is a case of the longest purse and little else. Then aftera man has been sent to prison, the jailer must be paid to make hispunishment as light as possible. If he is condemned to death, theexecutioner must be paid to do his work as painlessly and quickly as hecan. At every turn and corner the grafter stands with his palm held out,and unless you grease it well you might as well abandon your cause atthe start. You're certainly foredoomed to failure."

  "Well," said Bert, "we're badly enough off at home in the matter
ofgraft, but at least we have some 'chance for our white alley' when we gointo a court of justice."

  "Yes," assented the doctor, "of course a long purse doesn't hurt there,as everywhere else. But, in the main, our judges are beyond the coarsetemptation of money bribes. We've advanced a good deal from the time ofSir Francis Bacon, that 'brightest, wisest, _meanest_ of mankind,' whonot only accepted presents from suitors in cases brought before him, buthad the nerve to write a pamphlet justifying the practice and claimingthat it didn't affect his judgment."

  "What do you think of the present revolution in China, doctor?" askedDick. "Will it bring the people more into sympathy with our way oflooking at things?"

  He shook his head skeptically.

  "No," he answered, "to be frank I don't. Between us and the Chinesethere is a great gulf fixed, and I don't believe it will ever bebridged. The Caucasian and Mongolian races are wholly out of sympathy.We look at everything from opposite sides of the shield. We can no moremix than oil and water.

  "The white races made a mistake," he went on and the boys detected inhis voice a strain of sombre foreboding, "when they drew China out ofits shell and forced it to come in contact with the modern world. It wasa hermit nation and wanted to remain so. All it asked was to be letalone. It was a sleeping giant. Why did we wake him up unless we wantedto tempt fate and court destruction?

  "Not only that, but the giant had forgotten how to fight. We're teachinghim how just as fast as we can, and even sending European officers totrain and lead his armies. The giant's club was rotten and wormeaten. Inits place, we're giving him Gatling guns and rifled artillery, thefinest in the world. We have forgotten that Mongol armies have alreadyoverrun the world and that they may do it again. We're like thefisherman in the 'Arabian Nights' who found a bottle on the shore andlearned that it held a powerful genii. As long as he kept the bottlecorked he was safe. But he was foolish enough to take out the cork, andthe genii, escaping, became as big as a mountain, and couldn't besqueezed back into the bottle. We've pulled the cork that held theChinese genii and we'll never get him back again. Think of four hundredmillion people, a third of the population of the world, conscious oftheir strength, equipped with modern arms, trained in the latesttactics, able to live on practically nothing, moving over Europe like aswarm of devastating locusts! When some Chinese Napoleon--and he may bealready born--finds such an army at his back--God help Europe!"

  He spoke with feeling, and a silence fell upon them as they looked overthe great city, and thought of the thousands of miles and countlessmillions of inhabitants that lay beyond. Did they hear in imaginationthe gathering of shadowy hosts, the tread of marching armies, and thedistant thunder of artillery? Or did they dimly sense with thatmysterious clairvoyance sometimes vouchsafed to men that in a few daysthey themselves would be at death grip with that invisible "yellowperil" and barely win out with their lives?

  Dick shivered, though the night was warm.

  "Come along, fellows," he said, as the captain and doctor walked away."Let's go to bed."