It was the forty-third day of the voyage when we came within view of our destination . . . the city of Canton, China. We docked . . . it was a very busy port . . . and as we were unloading the ship, some of the local Chinese came out to greet us. They bowed to us most respectfully, and I thought to myself,
“I think I will like this place.”
China . . . if Canton was a fair representation . . . was different. From the standpoint of people living in a harbor community, it was vastly different from Boston. The boats were built differently, the houses were constructed differently, and the people were dressed differently. There were virtually no similarities between the two places.
At the trading portals . . . which were called “hongs” . . . it was a jumble of bustling activity. I had brought my pocket watches ashore and was ready to commence my career as a trader. The Chinese merchants with whom I was transacting could speak only rudimentary English . . . and the going was rough. They did not seem to see any need for pocket watches, and, for a fleeting moment, I envisioned myself returning to the port of Boston . . . the proud owner of twenty pocket watches.
After a little time, however, I was able to convey the important purposes a watch can serve, and when I carefully pried off the back plate of one . . . and showed them the complex mechanism of tiny gear wheels inside . . .
I could tell that they were hooked and that it would be smooth sailing.
“Thank you Robbie.”
The Chinese merchandise was indeed crafts of excellent quality. I traded for ivory statuettes, decorated porcelain ware (bowls, dishes, and tea sets), small black lacquered curio boxes with designs painted on them, mirrors set in elegantly crafted wood frames, and bulk quantities of different colored silks . . . which came in long flat rolls. I traded ten of my watches and then told the men that I would return the next day with ten more. This, I hoped, would give the word a chance to get around . . . and increase the watches’ value.
My trunk was nearly full, so I approached Captain Martindale and requested permission to bring an additional trunk on board. He granted my request on the condition that the trunk was stored below deck with the cargo . . . and I readily agreed to this.
The next day at the trading portals I was a popular fellow. The pocket watches were in great demand, and the trading . . . from my standpoint . . . was excellent. I simply traded for more of the merchandise I had gotten the previous day . . . with two exceptions: I got a large trunk and a good lock, which I was glad to not have to go shopping for.
My trading in China now being at an end, I loaded that day’s take of Chinese-made merchandise onto The Lucky Mermaid and then went back ashore to the counting house where I exchanged a gold piece for some local Chinese currency . . . and then set out to explore the city of Canton.
The streets of Canton were congested with people coming and going . . . kicking up a low cloud of dust as they moved along the road. There was a man leading a water buffalo by a rope and a fellow pulling a cart that was loaded with chickens. There were women balancing wooden yokes across their shoulders as they hauled large pails of water. And there were gentlemen traveling along the road by carriages . . . carriages that were being pulled by other gentlemen. And everyone was wearing the same sort of outfit . . . a long cloak-like garment and a wide-brimmed straw hat.
I stopped at an open-air restaurant, but could not make heads or tails of the menu. I had wanted to order a slug . . . or perhaps two or three slugs . . . but had to, owing to the language barrier, give it up. Eventually . . . by pointing to a customer sitting nearby . . . I managed to get a bowl of rice and some tea, and so had my first meal on the Asian continent.
Over at one side of the restaurant a group of old men were gathered around one of the tables. They wore long narrow beards, smoked long narrow pipes, and were playing some sort of game. Before leaving the restaurant I strolled over to take a closer look. It was a game that used small tile-like game pieces, and I stood and watched for a while . . . then left.
Before heading back to the ship I bought one of the long cloak-like garments and one of the straw hats, and the next day . . . our last full day in port . . . I wore them. I greeted people with a slight bow, I walked with mincing steps, and generally had a good time. I returned to the same restaurant and had rice and tea again. The old men were there again and, after watching them play the game of tiles . . . a game I later learned was called “Mah-jongg” . . . I respectfully asked them . . . using gestures . . . if I could play, and, to my surprise, they let me. I lost. And this brought out some hearty laughter from these old gentlemen. I played again . . . and lost again. However, when it finally came time to leave the café, the farewells I received from these men were most sincere. “I have soaked up the atmosphere of China!” I exulted.