Liz and Nellie

by Shonna Slayton

  These sail boats were filled with men with native fruits, photographs, and odd shells to sell. They all came on board, and among them were a number of jugglers. The passengers took very little interest in the venders, but all had a desire to see what was to be offered by the jugglers.

  There was one among them, a black man, who wore little else than a sash, a turban and a baggy pocket, in the lining of which he carried two lizards and a small rabbit. He was very anxious to show us his tricks and to get the money for them. He refused, however, to do anything with the rabbit and lizards until after he had shown us what he could do with a handkerchief and some bangles.

  “You. Miss,” he said, waving me to come forward.

  While I was stepping toward him, he shook a handkerchief as if to show us that it contained nothing. He handed it to me and then showed us a small brass bangle. He took the handkerchief back and pretended to put the bangle into it; he then placed the handkerchief in my hand. “Hold tightly,” he said.

  I did so, feeling the presence of the bangle very plainly. He blew on it and, jerking the handkerchief loose from my grasp, shook it. Much to the amazement of the crowd, the bangle was gone.

  Some of the passengers in the meantime stole the juggler's rabbit, and one of the lizards had quietly taken itself off to some secluded spot.

  “Rabbit? Rabbit?” He asked the crowd. He was very much concerned about the loss of them and refused to perform any more tricks until they were restored to his keeping.

  At last one young man took the rabbit from his pocket and returned it to the juggler, much to his gratification. The lizard was not to be found, and as it was time for the ship to sail, the juggler was forced to return to his boat.

  After he had gone, several people came up to me to ask about the handkerchief trick.

  “How did he do it?”

  “Did he take the bangle away before he gave it to you? Could you feel it?”

  “When did it disappear?”

  “That was an old and very uninteresting trick,” I said. “He had one bangle sewn in the handkerchief, and the other bangle, the one he showed everyone, he slipped out of sight when you were all looking at me. Of course, by holding the handkerchief, I was holding the bangle, but when he jerked the handkerchief from me and shook it, the bangle wouldn’t fall to the floor. He carefully kept the side to which the bangle was attached turned towards himself so it looked that by his magic, he had made the bangle disappear.”

  One of the men who listened to this explanation became very indignant. “Well, now. If you knew positively how this trick had been done, why didn’t you expose the man?” he said in a huff.

  Feeling equally huffy, I retorted, “I wanted to see the juggler get his money.”

  The Englishman gave me a frown and went off to fume elsewhere.

  The next morning when we arose, we were out of sight of land and well out on the Red Sea. The weather now was very hot, but still some of the passengers did their best to make things lively on board.

  One evening a number of young men gave a minstrel show. They displayed both energy and perseverance in preparing for it as well as in the execution of it. One end of the deck was set aside for the show. A stage was put up and the whole corner was enclosed by awnings, and the customary green curtain hung in place during service, as drop curtain between acts, as well appearing before and after the performance.

  A few of those who could sing, or imagined they could, were persuaded to exercise their vocal organs. At other times, many of us went to the deck reserved for the second-class passengers and enjoyed the concerts given by them. When there were no chairs for us on this deck, we would sit on the floor, and we all acknowledged that the first-class passengers could not furnish music that was any better.

  The days were spent mainly on deck lounging about in easy chairs. I found that no one enjoyed as much comfort as I did. I had changed my heavy waist for my silk bodice, and I felt cool and comfortable and lazily happy.

  When dinner hour approached, we would see a few rush off to dress for dinner and later they would appear in full dress, low bodice and long train, much to the amusement of that class of passengers who maintained that it was decidedly not the thing to appear in full dress on an ocean steamer.

  The evening dress, made of white linen, in which the young men in the East generally made their appearance at dinner, impressed me as being not only comfortable and appropriate, but decidedly becoming and elegant.

  As a topic of interest we had the lizard which was left behind by the juggler. It was found in a quiet corner of the deck by the quarter-master the morning following our stop at Suez. A sympathizing young man took charge of it and endeavored to feed it, but after living in sullen quietness for a few days, it ceased to breathe, and its death was solemnly announced to the passengers.

  The nights were so warm while on the Red Sea that the men left their cabins and spent their nights on deck. It is usually customary for the women to sleep on deck, one side of which, at such times, is reserved exclusively for them. During this trip none of the women had the courage to set the example, so the men had the decks to themselves.

  Sleeping down below was all the more reason why women arising early would go on the decks before the sun began to boil in search of a refreshing spot where they could get a breath of cool air. At this hour the men were usually to be seen promenading about in their pajamas, but I heard no objections raised until, much to the dismay of the women, the Captain announced that the decks belonged to the men until after eight o'clock in the morning, and that the women were expected to remain below until after that hour.

  Just before we came to Aden, we passed in the sea a number of high brown mountains. They are known as the Twelve Apostles. Shortly after this, we came in sight of Aden. It looked to us like a large, bare mountain of wonderful height, but even by the aid of glasses we were unable to tell that it was inhabited.

  Shortly after eleven o'clock in the morning, we anchored in the bay. Our boat was soon surrounded by a number of small boats, which brought to us men who had things to sell, and the wonderful divers of the East.

  The passengers had been warned by the officers on board not to go ashore at Aden because of the intense heat. So the women spent their time bargaining with the merchants who came to the ship to sell ostrich feathers and feather boas. The men helped them to close with the sellers always to the sellers' advantage, much as they might congratulate themselves to the contrary.

  I, in company with a few of the more reckless ones, decided to brave the heat and go ashore and see what Aden had to offer.

  17

  In Which Elizabeth Bisland Prepares To Visit “Elfland.”

  AT LAST THERE comes the day when we rise in the morning and the sailors, pointing to the horizon, say, “That is Japan.”

  We eagerly gather at the rail to see this wondrous land, crying with cheerful excitement. “Yes! Yes!” We are all so ready for something new to look at. Madge and I link arms at the rail as we strain our eyes across the monotonous sea and sky, but still see nothing with our unpracticed sight.

  “There it is, dear Elizabeth,” Madge says, holding her hat so it doesn’t blow off into the sea. “Only just beyond our sight. But soon, very soon we will not only see it but set our feet upon its soil.”

  At a sniffle to my left, I turn and see the young missionary doctor staring straight ahead, tears falling unhindered down her cheeks. All the missionaries are full of emotion at arriving at the scene of their labors to save immortal souls.

  A delicate gray cloud grows up along the edge of the water and slowly a vast cone-like cumulus, a lofty rosy cloud, takes shape and form: Fujiyama . . . the divine mountain!

  None of us can leave the rail. We stand and watch as if hypnotized by the volcano, watching it grow and grow. Having seen it, one no longer marvels that it dominates the Japanese imagination; that every fan, screen, and jar, every piece of lacquer and porcelain, bears somewhere its majestic, its exquisite outline.
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br />   For more than two hundred years, the “Mother of Fire” has been clad in snows and has made no sign. Traces of terrible ancient rages lie along her ravaged sides; but her passions are all stilled, peace and purity crown her.

  “And it came to pass that on the morning of the 8th day of December we rose up and perceived that we had come unto Fan-land,” I say in the quiet awe.

  “To the Islands of Porcelain,” adds Madge.

  We make our way up the long bay to Yokohama. The town has been in existence only since 1859 when Japan opened a few ports to foreign trade, but in these thirty years already it is a place of size and importance; for what the Japanese did, they did thoroughly: They jettied the harbor, built ample wharves, and bade their own people confine themselves to the inner town across the canal, and not encroach upon the Europeans.

  Captain Kempson has steered us in sixteen days from the coast of America to where a mountain of pink pearl rises out of the sea; and when the gray clouds about its base resolve themselves into land, we find they are the green hills of fairyland!

  There is no turning back, now. My feet are about to alight onto foreign soil for the first time. I have left the forty-two states behind and will not see them again for weeks and weeks. Although, based on the rate we’ve been adding states – four in this month alone – my country might expand without me.

  The queerest craft come to meet us in the bay – light-winged junks with gray and russet sails. They spread their great butterfly wings and skim along without fear, going far afield for the fishing. So carelessly and crazily built are they, that were the sea to give them a playful slap she would crush them in an instant to kindling-wood.

  Many large ships lie at anchor in the harbor – American men-of-war, English, French, and German merchant vessels, and a few neat Japanese coasters. A cloud of sampans descends upon us as we anchor – craft as crazy as the junks.

  “Look,” I point out to Madge. “Those boatmen are the vanguard of elves from Elfland!” Indeed, they were small, lithe creatures with good-looking countenances, and with thick, shining black locks, through which is twisted a blue fillet.

  They wear a dark blue cotton kimono, which is worn by both sexes. For the most part it reminds me of a costume like that worn in England in the time of Henry II – cloth hose to the waist, a short jerkin, and loose sleeveless coat reaching to the hips.

  There are boys of ten or twelve in some of the boats with the men – quaint little brats with varying patterns shaved on the tops of their heads, working with the enthusiastic vigor known only to the small boy of all countries.

  Seeing the boats coming, Mrs. Baxter begins organizing our launch party. She has been here before and doesn’t need time to soak in the new and fascinating sights. Within minutes she has us organized and sends Mr. White off to secure our steam-launch.

  “Why don’t we take one of these sampans?” I say, hoping to steer them to the elfish ferrymen and a fitting start to our entering this dreamland.

  Madge catches my eye and nods enthusiastically.

  But Mrs. White shakes her head and points at the pile of luggage the missionaries are piling up. “The sampans are not practical. Do not worry; you young girls will see more exotic sights than these.”

  18

  In Which Nellie Bly Goes To A Camel Market And Is Not Impressed

  HIRING A LARGE boat, I went ashore with a half dozen acquaintances who felt they could risk the sun. The man in charge of the boat that carried us to land was a small black fellow with the thinnest legs I ever saw. Somehow they reminded me of smoked herrings, they were so black, flat, and dried-looking. He was very energetic, notwithstanding his lack of weight.

  Around his neck and over his bare breast were twined strings of beads, black and gold and silver. Around his waist was a highly colored sash, and on his arms and ankles were heavy bracelets, while his fingers and toes seemed to be trying to outdo one another in the way of rings. His hair was yellow which, added to his very light dress of jewelry and sash, gave him rather a strange look.

  The four oarsmen were black fellows, thin of limb, but possessed of much strength and tireless good humor. They have the finest white teeth of any mortals, and I commented such.

  Grinning, the man in charge procured a stick, three or four inches in length. One end was scraped free of the bark to reveal a soft, fibrous wood. He proceeded to rub and polish his teeth until they were perfect in their whiteness.

  Some of the boatmen had their black wool pasted down and hidden under a coating of lime. I couldn’t help but stare in curiosity until the first man explained.

  “They are bleaching their hair,” he said. “We cover the head with lime and let it set for several days. The hot sun and the water bleach the hair yellow or red.”

  “Do the women do this too?”

  He shook his head. “It does not look good on the women. Only the men.”

  He spoke English quite well, and to my rather impertinent question as to what number constituted his family, told me that he had three wives and eleven children, which number, he added piously, by the grace of the power of his faith, he hoped to increase.

  While we were talking, our men were vigorously pulling to the time of a rousing song, one line of which was sung by one man, the others joining in the refrain at the end. Their voices were not unpleasant, and the air had a monotonous rhythm that was very fascinating.

  We landed at a well-built pier and walked up the finely-cut, white-stone steps from the boat to the land. Instantly we were surrounded by half-clad black people, all of whom, after the manner of hack-drivers at railway stations, were clamoring for our favor.

  They were not all drivers, however. Mingling with the drivers were merchants with jewelry, ostrich plumes and boas to sell, runners for hotels, beggars, cripples and guides.

  This conglomeration besought us to listen to every individual one of them until a native policeman, in the Queen's uniform, came forward and pushed the fellows back with his hands, sometimes hastening their retreat with his boot.

  A large board occupied a prominent position on the pier. On it was marked the prices that should be paid drivers, boatmen, and like people. It was, indeed, a praiseworthy thoughtfulness, for it prevented tourists being robbed. Even in this land there was more precaution taken to protect helpless and ignorant strangers than in New York City where the usual custom of night hack-men is to demand exorbitant prices, and if they are not forthcoming, to pull off their coats and fight for it.

  Perched on the side of this bleak, bare mountain is a majestic white building, reached by a fine road cut in the stone that forms the mountain. It is a club house, erected for the benefit of the English soldiers who are stationed on this barren spot. In the harbor lay an English man-of-war, and near a point where the land was most level, numbers of white tents were pitched for soldiers.

  From the highest peak of the black, rocky mountain floated the English flag. As I traveled on and realized more than ever before how the English have stolen almost all, if not all, desirable seaports, I felt an increased respect for the level-headedness of the English government, and I cease to marvel at the pride with which Englishmen view their flag floating in so many different climes and over so many different nationalities.

  Near the pier were shops run by Parsees. A hotel, post office and telegraph office were located in the same place. The town of Aden is five miles distant. We hired a carriage and started at a good pace, on a wide, smooth road that took us along the beach for a way, passing low rows of houses; passed a large graveyard, liberally filled, which looked like the rest of that stony point, bleak, black and bare, the graves often being shaped by cobblestones.

  The roads at Aden are a marvel of beauty. They are wide and as smooth as hardwood, and as they twist and wind in pleasing curves up the mountain, they are made secure by a high, smooth wall against mishap. Otherwise their steepness might result in giving tourists a serious roll down a rough mountainside.

  A number of women walked pr
oudly along, their brown, bare feet stepping lightly on the smooth road. They had long purple-black hair, which was always adorned with a long, stiff feather, dyed of brilliant red, green, purple, and like striking shades.

  They wore no other ornament than the colored feather, which lent them an air of pride, when seen beside the much-bejeweled people of that quaint town. Many of the women, who seemed very poor indeed, were lavishly dressed in jewelry. They did not wear much else, it is true, but in a place as hot as Aden, jewelry must be as much as anyone would care to wear.

  To me the sight of these perfect, bronze-like women, with a graceful drapery of thin silk wound about the waist, falling to the knees, and a corner taken up the back and brought across the bust, was most bewitching. On their bare, perfectly modeled arms were heavy bracelets around the wrist and muscle, most times joined by chains.

  Bracelets were also worn about the ankles, and their fingers and toes were laden with rings. Sometimes large rings were suspended from the nose, and the ears were almost always outlined with hoop rings that reached from the inmost edge of the lobe to the top of the ear joining the head. So closely were these rings placed that, at a distance, the ear had the appearance of being rimmed in gold.

  A more pleasing style of nose ornament was a large gold ornament set in the nostril and fastened there as screw rings fasten in the ear. Still, if that nose ornamentation was more pleasing than the other, the ear adornment that accompanied it was disgusting. The lobe of the ear was split from the ear and pulled down to such length that it usually rested on the shoulder. The enormous loop of flesh was partially filled with large gold knobs.

  At the top of the hill, we came to a beautiful, majestic, stone double gate, the entrance to the English fort and also spanning the road that leads to the town. Sentinels were pacing to and fro, but we drove past them without stopping or being stopped, through a strange, narrow cut in the mountain that towered at the sides a hundred feet above the road bed. Both these narrow, perpendicular sides are strongly fortified. It needs but one glance at Aden, which is in itself a natural fort, to strengthen the assertion that Aden is the strongest gate to India.