The fire spread with such fearful rapidity that there was no time to launch any lifeboats. In the panic and pandemonium that broke loose the Chinese in the 'tween decks were all so intent upon saving their belongings that none gave a thought to lifebelts. Many jumped overboard with their belongings, hit the water with a splash and plummeted to the bottom of the sea. Later when their bodies were recovered it was found that their Nothing was weighted down with $20 gold pieces. On one corpse U.S. $3,000 in gold coin was found. Most of those who scrambled over the side and down ropes into the sea were promptly hit on the head by the shower of chests and packages that others on the deck were throwing overboard in a frantic effort to save their possessions from the fire.
The once great wooden steamer "America," the largest wooden vessel that had ever been built, burnt to the water's edge. Four days later the remains of the hulk was still smoking. In the days that followed the bodies of three Europeans and fifty Chinese who had lost their lives were recovered. $375,000 in treasure which was on board, securely locked in the tank, was recovered later by divers.
"Relatives" quickly came forward to claim the dead. The agent of the Pacific Mail Steamship Co. in Yokohama, however, delivered the bodies, but took temporary possession of all the coin found on them to prevent it falling into the wrong hands, and until some means of ascertaining the rightful owners could be found.
The verdict of the Court of Inquiry held at Yokohama was that the cause of the fire could not be ascertained, but it was believed to have been intentionally caused by some person or persons for the purpose of plundering the Chinese passengers who were known to be carrying a huge sum of money back to China.
An astonishing feature of the case was that a bear "ring" developed on the New York Stock exchange in Pacific Mail stock a short while before the fire. When, however, the disaster was announced the Company attacked the bears with such determination that the market was bulled over 20%, and, it is said, some of the "ring" were ruined. An account of the dealings in the stock appears in the New York Times of September 11, 1872.
The London Times of November 20, 1872, gave an account of the findings of the Court of Inquiry, and paid a tribute to the captain and crew for the efforts made to save the ship, but lamented the inadequacy of the means on board to cope with the conflagration.
Although Tuck Chong's descendants would deny the implication, and would probably be ready to defend the memory of their great great grandfather, even to the extent of sticking a knife into my ribs, nevertheless there may be some people who will be inclined to agree with me when I say that the burning of the "America" and the subsequent rise to wealth of Tuck Chong may not have been unrelated.
The foreigners in Yokohama of eighty years ago knew Tuck Chong as a Chinese restaurateur, and they knew also his Hang Fah Low Restaurant, named no doubt after the famed San Francisco Chinese restaurant of the same name. Actually he was a man of many parts and of wide experience. It is not possible to start at the beginning, because Tuck Chong himself never talked about his beginning. It will be sufficient for the purpose of this article if we start on August 2, 1872, at the wharf in San Francisco, where the "America" was getting ready to sail for the Orient.
The last few hours before sailing were bustle and confusion. Well nigh half the population of Chinatown must have been on board or on shore assisting in the handling of the hundreds of packages that the returning Chinese passengers were taking back to China with them. It was said that somewhere in those packages was a king's ransom in the form of silver dollars and $20 gold pieces representing the savings of half a lifetime that some of the Chinese were taking back to China on which to retire. Some were carrying their wealth in the form of bank drafts, but most had never trusted banks and preferred coin. Many, who had been working in the California gold-fields, were carrying nuggets of gold too. Nobody but the owners knew what was in each package.
All of those packages were stored in the 'tween decks where the Chinese were accommodated—that is to say all except the coffins which were supposed to be stowed in the lower hold. There were over twenty coffins in all. Most of the morning they had lain forlornly on the dock alongside the ship waiting for the heavy cargo to be loaded and stowed away. For obvious reasons the coffins were always stowed where they would not be crushed by heavy cargo. There was a constant and lucrative freight business to be done in the carrying of Chinese dead back to China for burial in the land of their ancestors.
The coffins were the last items of cargo to be loaded on the "America." They were hauled up in slings and stowed on top of the cargo in the mouth of the hatch. In some way that was never explained, the last sling load of two coffins was raised from the dock and lowered away through the top deck hatchway, but as soon as the sling came level with the 'tween decks it was pulled in, the coffins removed and the signal given to the winchman to raise the tackle. In the matter of a few seconds the two coffins had been whisked away into a corner of the 'tween decks where they were quickly covered with baggage. A few well-placed bribes had no doubt been all that was necessary to accomplish that irregularity. The hatches to the lower hold were closed, the hatch covers put in place, and the seals attached. A few minutes later the "America" had pulled out from the wharf and was en route to Japan and China.
Later matting was spread over the tops of the coffins that had thus surreptitiously been stowed in the 'tween decks. Two of them made an excellent couch for the party comprising Tuck Chong and his three sons. At night two slept on that couch, and in the daytime there was never a moment when one or more of the party was not resting there. They seemed to do nothing in particular. Actually they were watching every movement that took place in those 'tween decks. Most of all they were studying the gambling that went on from morning to night at fan-tan and other games in a nearby corner under the direction of Ching Ling, who played the part of banker. He also had three sons, but just prior to sailing, the San Francisco police had come on board and arrested them on some charge, the exact details of which were not known to the rest of the ship. Ching Ling was greatly upset at that development and said that a terrible mistake had been made by the police. Tuck Chong may possibly have known something of that.
The presence of the coffins in the 'tween deck apparently had been gossiped about. The Chinese stewards probably heard of it and passed the information on to the officers, because on the second day out the chief officer conducted a search and reported to the captain his discovery of the coffins in the 'tween deck. The next morning when the captain made his regular tour of inspection Tuck Chong was sitting as usual with his sons on their couch seemingly looking into space at nothing, but actually he was very wide awake. He saw the captain sniff several times and then turn to the first mate.
"Don't unseal that hatch, Mr. Bower. The air in here is so foul that a few coffins couldn't make it any worse."
The gambling games continued and vast numbers of dollars changed hands, many of which passed into the hands of Ching Ling. Where they went to after that was not known. At nighttime it was customary for each family group before retiring to erect a bamboo screen around their belongings and their sleeping space. By morning all the dollars that Ching Ling had raked in had disappeared, but they began to accumulate again next day as the play of the day proceeded. Tuck Chong and his sons sat and watched, disregarding the taunts that were thrown at them for not joining in the gambling. It was the day before arrival at Yokohama that he seemingly permitted himself to be persuaded by his sons to place a small bet. He made a great show of his anxiety at the risk, and a still greater show of excitement as he scooped in his winnings. Again and again he placed his bets. The play swung backwards and forwards, but as the stakes increased so also did Tuck Chong's winnings. Finally at the end of the day he seemed to have most of the dollars that had circulated in those 'tween decks during the voyage. Many times during the day Tuck Chong's sons retired behind their bamboo screen presumably to pack away the winnings.
By evening Ching Ling had lost far more m
oney than he said he was able to pay. After hours of wrangling and quarreling he retired behind his bamboo curtain a very dejected man. He did not emerge as usual in the morning and when they peeked behind the curtain he was not there, nor could he be found anywhere else on board. Some thought he may have jumped overboard during the night. Some whispered other possibilities. When the whisperings came to the ears of the captain that evening he proceeded to the 'tween decks with his officers to investigate.
Tuck Chong and his sons were sitting impassive as usual on their couch. Perhaps they were thinking of the years of toil they had spent on the gold-fields in California, where they had worked over the diggings that had been abandoned by others as not worth working. Perhaps they were thinking of other of their activities. At any rate their thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, and none of the captain's questions drew a worthwhile answer.
"Mr. Bower, call the ship's carpenter and open the lid of these coffins," ordered the captain. When the carpenter arrived Tuck Chong shifted his position to enable one of the coffins to be handled. His face as usual was inscrutable. He watched whilst the carpenter with some difficulty removed the lid of the first coffin. What they saw or what assailed their senses when the lid was raised is not recorded anywhere in the documents of this case. All that is known is that they hurriedly moved to the companion-way whence a draught of fresh air was coming down from the deck above. It was then that the alarm of fire was sounded.
The captain and his officers hastened away to investigate. Panic broke out among the Chinese. What happened thereafter in the hold will never be known. All that we know for certain is that Tuck Chong and his sons escaped, and many others did not.
Tuck Chong's subsequent progress in the Yokohama Settlement can be traced in the newspapers of that time. A year after the burning of the "America" the Japan Daily Herald carried a short article reading:
Since the new canals have been cut and the Swamp drained, the Yokohama Foreign Concession and those sections of the native town adjoining it have made great progress and not the least has been in that section which some of our readers prefer to call Chinatown. Ten years ago there were about 200 Chinese nationals in Yokohama. To-day there are nearly 1000. Among the many new enterprises is the recently completed three-storied building housing the high-class Chinese restaurant Hang Fah Low operated by Mr. Tuck Chong and which has special rooms reserved for Europeans. The speciality of this restaurant is Duck—Canton Style.
Mr. Tuck Chong and his sons arrived in Yokohama last August on the ill-fated "America."
Rumour had it that Mr. Tuck Chong brought in a fortune from gold-mining in California, but he has informed us that he lost everything when the 'America' burnt. The enterprise of Mr. Tuck Chong is therefore all the more praiseworthy.
The following advertisement appeared in many issues of the same newspaper:
Tuck Chong's High Class Chinese Restaurant
"Hang Fah Low"
Yokohama
Speciality Duck Canton Style
Special rooms for European guests
Tuck Chong's business thrived and with success the number of his sons increased. Indeed they seemed suddenly to spring from nowhere—and each one of mature age. One became compradore at the Oriental Bank, others were shroffs in other banks, some were bookkeepers in foreign firms, and some assisted in the restaurant. Little wonder, was it that Tuck Chong's finger was always on the pulse of business in Yokohama.
As one year followed another, the quantity of "Duck—Canton Style" that was consumed in the Hang Fah Low Restaurant steadily increased, but Tuck Chong continued to sit behind the grill at the front counter and collect the Mexican dollars that rolled in, in ever increasing quantity. Except that the number of his sons increased, he showed no signs of change. He rang and squinted at every silver dollar that passed across the counter. Those that were cracked or chipped or faulty were dropped into one basket, the good ones into another. Rarely did he refuse a dollar, and only then when it was an obvious counterfeit. He had sons who could pass on the defective ones, and he had means of disposing of the good ones at a premium.
The only time he left his stool was when a taipan entered. Then one of his sons would slip into his place on the stool, whilst Tuck Chong conducted the Great One up the brass-edged grand staircase to one of the rooms on the second floor front. Out of consideration for the weight and shortness of breath of some of the taipans, the de luxe rooms reserved for Europeans were on the second floor front side, but in recognition of the bashfulness of the juniors of the hongs, who unlike the taipans often sought privacy rather than limelight, there were also a number of first class rooms on the third floor back side, where a junior could treat his girl friend to a dinner with less risk of being seen by the boss than in one of the Settlement hotel dining rooms. For their greater convenience, later he built an outside staircase which spared the juniors the necessity of walking up the brass-edged grand staircase at the front.
Tuck Chong and his sons were students of human nature, and in the studies which they conducted among the foreign community of Yokohama they found much profit. Tuck Chong, however, only encouraged eating and drinking and was not interested, except maybe in a personal way, in other weaknesses of the flesh. Those who did not find sufficient privacy behind the loose curtains at the doors of each room had to seek their entertainment in less respectable eating houses. Nor would he permit any gambling on his premises. He used to explain that he was just a simple restaurant keeper, that he never gambled himself and that good food did not mix with gambling.
As he grew older he often related his experiences when the "America" burnt. He told with great simplicity how, when he and his sons jumped in terror from the deck of the burning "America," it so happened that a sampan was tied at exactly the spot where they expected to enter the water, and so providentially they all landed one on top of the other in the bottom of the boat with much impedimenta that they happened to be carrying. According to Tuck Chong, the boatman was so shocked and frightened at the sudden intrusion that he hurriedly pushed off for shore in order to rid himself as quickly as possible of his unwelcome passengers. In this way, according to Tuck Chong, and despite any theories the Customs may have had to the contrary, he and his sons landed in Yokohama.
In course of time Tuck Chong passed out of this world, and according to his sons, his soul journeyed on to those same celestial fields to which so many of his fellow countrymen on the "America" had gone years before. His mortal remains were, however, sealed in a lead-lined coffin and transported for burial to the place of his birth in China.
Years later, in fact decades later, I was assured by a certain citizen of Chinatown, Yokohama—a person who seemed to know all the uncanny happenings of the back streets of Yokohama Settlement—that in the same coffin as his wizened shell, there were packed some marked cards, several old sets of loaded dice and some false decks of playing cards.
SAM
PATCH
Sammy's notoriety has somewhat spoiled his pristine modesty, and his head, which had never been ballasted with over two-thirds the average quantum of wit, is occasionally turned to the annoyance of his master.—Dr. W. E. GRIFFIS—The Mikado's Empire.
About eighty years ago there started out from a house in Tokyo an unusual funeral procession. The hearse was the regular type of Japanese hearse used by the common people—a small temple-shaped cart, a few feet high, out of which conveyance has developed the elaborate temple-like motor hearses of these days. This cart had been backed up to the entrance of a Japanese house; the sides and roof of the cart had then been taken off and a square box, scarcely three feet square, had been pushed on; the sides and top had then been replaced after which the cart or hearse was pulled away by two old men, poorly dressed, almost in rags and tatters. The relatives of the deceased who were gathered about the front of the house were smiling but they were smiles of sadness rather than of joy, in accordance with the family precept that you must not burden others with your sorrows for your dead. The
bystanders were open-mouthed in wonder at the strange funeral procession that was forming.
Three double jinrikisha followed immediately behind the bier; the first carried two elderly Japanese women, the second a foreign clergyman and his wife, and in the third jinrikisha there was a Japanese convert to Christianity, a well-known Bible teacher of those days, and with him an eminent American missionary and educationalist—E. Warren Clark by name.
This unusual funeral procession—unusual because of the presence of three foreigners behind a Japanese hearse—attracted much attention as it moved down Tori, which was then the main street of Tokyo, towards Kirishitan zaka, or Christian Slope, near Shinagawa, so named from the martyrdom of a party of Christians who were burned there at the stake more than two centuries before.
(The Ginza had not been created at the time of the little funeral procession. Tori was then the main street and ran from Nihonbashi to the railway terminus at Shinagawa. The first railway in Japan, linking Yokohama to Tokyo was completed in 1872 as far as Shinagawa, whence travellers took jinrikisha or trudged the remaining two miles to the centre of the city.)
The funeral procession was bound for a Buddhist temple near Christian Slope, a distance of about two and a half miles over an abominable road that caused the hearse to rattle and shake to such a degree that Clark feared both the vehicle and the coffin might fall apart.
The procession moved along at a slow pace. Despite the impatient appeals of the foreigners to quicken the speed, the bearers of the hearse and the jinrikisha men would not hurry. It was dark when it arrived at the main gate of the cemetery. Not unlikely this had been planned by the Japanese in advance because, in accordance with ancient customs, burials were often performed at nighttime. Some people preferred the nighttime for burials, and some even after midnight at the hour of the ox when "even the grass is asleep." The lamps and lanterns used in present-day funerals are a relic of the old nighttime burial services.
Shades of the Past Page 11