CHAPTER XXVII.
A TERRIBLE TRAGEDY.
The others were still asleep.
"No wake," said the chief. "No wake, poor boys. Plenty soon I catchee breakfast. Den my vife she cook. Ah! man-meat no good. Arrack no good. God heself he send de cocoa-nut and de fish. Missional man he tell me foh true."
Then down squatted this strange black man in his doorway, with his legs dangling over, outside. He had a short rod and line, and really the fish required but little coaxing, for he soon hauled up seven or eight big beauties.
These were sprinkled with salt and various kinds of pepper, placed on hot stones over the fire, and covered with fragrant wet leaves. They were soon done to a turn. So were yams and sweet potatoes. Then Creggan asked a blessing, and all declared that they had never eaten a more delightful breakfast in their lives.
By and by a strange kind of chant was heard coming nearer and nearer to the village, and presently the plash of paddles.
Lo! the dug-outs had arrived. So, bidding their kind host and hostess adieu, after filling the children's hands with sweets, they lowered themselves into the canoes and were quickly paddled on shore.
They reached their own ship that forenoon in safety, much delighted with all they had seen and heard, and now, business being transacted, steam was got up, and the Osprey went heading away for far northern China seas.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The letters from home which last mail had brought Creggan were very delightful reading, especially those from Daddy the hermit, from his mother, and little Matty Nugent. Nugent's own letter brought him sad enough news, however, to the effect that poor M'Ian the minister had been borne to his long home by his loving parishioners, and that all that country-side of Skye was plunged in grief.
Mrs. M'Ian and her children, Rory and Maggie, had gone to reside in Perth for the better education of the latter. Maggie, or Sister Maggie, wrote a sad little letter to Creggan—it was really blurred with tears, and grief was en evidence throughout every page of it.
The voyage to Chinese and Japanese waters was a very long but somewhat uneventful one. It took them westward through Torres Straits first, then across the bright and beautiful Sea of Arafura, all dotted with little green-fringed islands hung like emeralds on the horizon. Next, across the Sea of Banda, and so away and away past Molucca and Gilolo, till they skirted the Philippine Isles, Formosa, and Loo-choo, then they were indeed in Chinese waters.
But no storm or tempest had marred the pleasure of this almost idyllic voyage, and they reached Shanghai in safety.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Here they met several man-of-war ships, more than they expected to, and everybody had a real good time of it. Some of these ships of war were sent from the East India station hurriedly, their object being to protect British interests in these waters, and north beyond Corea, in the Sea of Japan.
Well, Japan seems, to look at it on a map, only a little, little island compared to that vast tract of land called China, that teems with its hundreds of millions. True, but Japan is civilized. Japan has a splendid army of fire-eating soldiers, and a navy fit to go anywhere and do anything, while China is still wrapped in the mists of heathendom, and ruled by a government as blind as it is ignorant. Foreigners are hated by the Chinese. Hated and hooted wherever they go. The country is two thousand years behind the age, and not even while I write is it yet opened up to commerce.
Well, Captain Leeward learned now for the first time that war-clouds were banking up in the eastern horizon, that the war-wind would blow from the east, and that soon the storm would burst in all its fury over Corea and the self-conceited Chinese.
No one knew the day or the hour when the first angry shot should go shrieking through the air.
It was a season of breathless suspense, like that which thrills the mariner's heart with its very silence, before the down-come of an awful hurricane at sea; when the stillness is a stillness that can be felt, when the very birds are silent and float listlessly on the smooth oily billows, or perch on the fins of some basking shark.
But a vessel was now sent round to Bombay, and here despatches awaited her which she was to carry back with her to the British fleet in Chinese waters.
We were, it must be remembered, quite neutral in this great and bloody war, but I think that the heart of every true-born Scot or Englishman went out towards the brave Japanese, and followed them with intense interest throughout all their glorious career.
I have no desire at this part of my story to be dry and technical. I am never so. I am built, I trust, on the keel of common sense, but I would rather laugh and be merry any day than talk politics, and would rather spin a good sailor's yarn than preach.
But still it will do the reader no harm to know somewhat of the provocation, that the brave Japanese received, before they let slip the dogs of war. I shall let the historian speak, however. The bone of contention really was the great Peninsula of Corea.
"The first complication in Corea," says the historian, "which threatened the peace of the three countries of the far east, happened in July, 1882. Kim-Ok-Kim and other Coreans had been over to Japan. Surprised and pleased at the wonders they had seen, they came back partisans of progress and enthusiastic supporters of Japanese influence. Their ideas were not favourably received by the ex-regent, or Tai-Wen-Kun, who was a hater of everything foreign, and he began to intrigue with the Min, a peaceful faction in Corea.
"It was then decided to drive the Japanese out of the country by violence. The soldiers were infuriated by having their rations diminished, and then malicious reports about the Japanese were spread about the capital. A furious mob began to hunt to death all the defenceless Japanese that could be found.
"A Japanese officer, who had been drilling the Corean troops, and seven others, were murdered in one day, the Legation was attacked and burned, and the minister with twenty-eight Japanese had to fight their way through the streets of Seoul (the capital), and through the country to the sea, where they embarked in a junk, and were picked up by the British gun-boat Flying Fish, which took them to Nagasaki.
"The Japanese government at once took measures to obtain redress for the outrage; troops were got ready for any emergency, and the minister was sent back to Seoul with a military force. The Chinese also sent troops to Corea. The Corean government had then to apologize to Japan, pay a large indemnity, and give pensions to the widows and relations of the slain.
"Moreover, Japanese soldiers were now stationed permanently at Seoul to protect the Legation."
China did not quite like this, and she sent a still larger detachment of her hen-hearted soldiers; a soldiery that cannot fight half so well as Newhaven fishwives, an opium-eating, deteriorated race, which but to look at makes one think that the end of the world cannot be far away, or that if these creatures called the Chinese are really descended from the ape—with apologies to the monkey tribe,—they are speedily "throwing back", as breeders say, to their ancestry.
Well, for two years longer things went smoothly enough in Corea, though the Min or old fogey party had all the best places.
In December, 1884, a great party was given to celebrate the opening of the post-office at Seoul. This was more than the Chinese could stand, an attack was made, the party was broken up, and there was a massacre of ministers. The old-fashioned Coreans, dominated by the Chinese, wouldn't have progress at any price. There were now the same murderous riots and scenes in Corea, though on a larger scale, that had taken place two years before, and not only were the Japs attacked by a Corean mob, but by Chinese soldiers also.
A convention was afterwards signed between China and Japan, and it was thought that peace would be permanent, but lo! in 1894, Kim-Ok-Kim, the leader in the awful massacres of 1884, was murdered. The facts are these. After the defeat of his party he had fled to Japan, but now he was prevailed upon to visit Shanghai by a Corean, whose front name was Hung. Perhaps he would have been better hung. But he received great provocation from his highness Kim, for the latter gave him a bogus cheque, for money owing, to the tune of five thousand dollars. Hung returned furious and made his way to Kim's bedroom, where he found the man who had fooled him lying down. He shot him twice, and on Kim springing up and rushing into the corridor, his assassin followed and completed the job. He then fled.
Both these men were Coreans, but till now, at all events, Corea was considered but a portion of China, subject to its rule and sway in every way.
Things went on from bad to worse. Two men nagging at each other usually come to blows, and it is the same with nations.
Japan proposed reforms in Corea, China refused to honour these. Corea was shilly-shallying. Corea was like the fat party who sits between two stools, and ultimately falls with legs in the air. Japan was discontented. The memory of the murders rankled in her mind, and she cared not how soon she drew the sword and went straight for stale old China—China the multitudinous, China the effete.
Then came an attack on the king's palace at Seoul.
While hostilities had really broken out war was not yet officially declared. But that lurid cloud hovering over Corea and the seas around, was soon to burst now, and terrible would be the results.
Next comes a brisk little naval action. Chinese men-of-war had been despatched to Corea, and three of the fastest Jap cruisers had at the same time left Sasebo. I don't want the reader to worry over the names of these, for though to my ear they are musical enough they are difficult to remember.
It was not very long before the Japanese cruisers met the two battle-ships of China, near to the island of Phung. (N.B.—So far as the Chinamen were concerned, Phunk would have been a better name for it.)
Now, although the Chinese knew of the doings in Corea and the attack on the king's palace at Seoul, the Japanese had been at sea for several days and didn't. They were, therefore, much surprised to note that the China captains did not return their salute, and that they had really cleared for action.
"Oh, if that's their game," said the commander-in-chief of the three cruisers, "it is one that we can bear a hand in!"
Now, I don't go in for cock-fighting—dog-fighting is worse, and bull-fighting is terribly cruel; but I must confess that the story of a neat little fight at sea makes my eyes sparkle, and I rub my hands with delight.
I sha'n't say much about this battle, however, but the Japs tried to get the Chinamen more into open water. They meant business. The former didn't like it. I suppose they thought the nearer to the land they were the better. Feather-bed sailors, you see. So they opened fire in a nasty, shabby kind of way.
Then at them went the Japs, hammer and tongs. Oh, it was just too awfully lovely for anything, as the Yankees express it. How the guns roared! How viciously the fire spat out through the clouds of white smoke! How I wish I could have seen it!
Well, boys, in a very short time the Kuang-yi (China) was hors de combat, and had to run ashore, and the other battle-ship put up helm and fled to Wei-hai-Wei, so riddled with shot that she looked like a pepper-box, while down from her scupper-holes trickled the blood of her wounded and slain.
But the Chinese—who are nothing if not distorters of the truth—spread the report, or rather tried to, that on the whole they had the best of it
It makes one laugh to read the Chinese report of the battle, especially that yarn about killing the Jap admiral. He was on the bridge, says John, when he was shot, and he leapt so high in the air that he turned three somersaults before descending, dead. Well, I have seen many a Chinaman turn somersaults, but Japanese are not so cowardly active and tricky.
But this brisk little action did not terminate here, for it ended in a fearful tragedy, thus. While the Jap cruisers were chasing the Chinamen, two other ships hove in sight. One was a Chinese gun-boat, acting as tender to the British S.S. Kowshing. This steamer had been chartered by the Chinese to carry troops to Corea, and had on board about twelve hundred Chinese officers and men, with guns, ammunition, &c. The gun-boat was at once captured, and the Kowshing overhauled.
The European officers declared their willingness to return, but the Chinese soldiers rushed to arms. Fools!
The commander of the Jap cruiser, Naniwa, ordered the Europeans to leave. They were not allowed to by the Chinese. Then after a reasonable time the Jap cruiser ranged alongside.
Oh, it was horrible! This great ship-load of helpless men was to be sacrificed to the goddess of war.
Hear the roar of the great guns and the swish of the awful torpedo!
An awful explosion follows on board the Kowshing, and the vessel is enveloped in black smoke and coal dust. The European officers spring overboard to swim for their lives, amidst a rain of Chinese bullets. Again and again the guns of the Naniwa roll their thunders over the sea, and in twenty minutes' time the Kowshing sinks.
No less than a thousand went down in that doomed ship. Nor can we altogether blame the Japs, but I do blame that British greed of gain that leads us to carry the troops of foreign nations, and defiantly run blockades. No one can pity such merchantmen when they come to grief.
The sinking of this ship probably went far to decide the future fate of China in Corea, for had these twelve hundred picked men, under the command of a skilful German general, landed in Corea, it would have gone hard with the Japs at Asar.
War was at length formally declared, and soon it raged fast and furious. But in almost every engagement the Chinese, though double, sometimes even triple in numbers, had to give way before the brave and well-drilled Japs.
I have now to relate an adventure of a somewhat extraordinary kind, and very sad in its way, which is more intimately connected with our story than any narrative of the China-Japanese war could be.