First sight of the Rockies--Stay at Banff--Indians and salmon--Arrival at Vancouver--The Empress of India--Chinese passengers--The missing day--A court-martial--First sight of Japan.
After leaving the prairies the scenery became more hilly and the country wooded and fertile. The maples had just turned, and their gorgeous colouring of crimson and gold made the landscape appear like a gigantic flower-garden. Ill as I felt, the beauty of the scene so fascinated me that hours passed like minutes. Gradually the distant blue mountains grew nearer and more distinct, and, almost without knowing it, we found ourselves in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, four thousand feet above the sea-level.
At sunset a mist rolled across the valley, and above towered the great Cathedral Rock, thirteen thousand feet high, tinged a lovely rose-colour which gradually faded into soft pink and gray; then all was left in shadow, with the young moon shedding her pale light upon the dark, rugged outline of rock. It was a scene never to be forgotten.
We spent three pleasant days at Banff. Oh, the joy of a quiet night’s rest, a hot bath, and being clean again! I soon felt much better, though still stiff and shaken. The hotel was very comfortable, built like a huge Swiss chalet of pine-wood, with a big veranda, and beautifully situated, overlooking lake, forest, and river, and surrounded by high peaks in the distance. The hot, iron, and sulphur springs are a great feature of the place, and I much enjoyed the warm, open-air bath, formed out of the rocks, where I had a delightful swim each morning. The air at Banff is most invigorating--so clear and pure. We spent a good deal of our time on the Vermilion Lake, paddling about in a Canadian canoe, and exploring the many little creeks, some only a few feet wide. Trout are very abundant in the lake, and my father was fortunate in catching one weighing nearly thirty-five pounds, much to the envy and admiration of the other people at the hotel.
After leaving Banff we travelled in the observation-car of the train as far as Field, a little village five thousand feet up in the mountains, where we stopped to dine. It was intensely cold, and snow was already on the ground. The train after Field makes the most extraordinary turns and twists, and is called the loop-line. In some places both ends of the train were visible from the car. The skeleton iron bridges, hung from rock to rock, shook as we passed over them, and I felt dizzy as I looked down at the yawning chasms far below.
After leaving the Rockies we passed into the Selkirk Range, and crossed and recrossed the great Frazer River, with its high rocks and great boulders. The river is full of salmon, and in a clear pool we saw at least forty or fifty big fish basking. The Indians catch them in great quantities, and we passed several little encampments where queer-looking strings of red stuff were hanging from long sticks, which we were told was the salmon.
Here and there were little wigwams by the river-bank, with Indians and their papooses, forming picturesque groups, some wading in the creeks, or busy at work hanging up the salmon to dry in the sun.
The scenery as we neared Vancouver became less wild. Mount Baker, over fifteen thousand feet high, rose up solitary and grand, its snow-capped summit standing out like a white pyramid against the deep blue of the sky. We were fortunate in seeing it in all its beauty, as it is generally hidden in clouds.
Vancouver is a clean, well-built town at the mouth of the Frazer River. The harbour there is large enough for men-of-war to anchor in, and there we found our steamer, the Empress of India, awaiting us--a fine boat of 6,000 tons, painted white and built on the lines of a large yacht. We spent Sunday, the day after our arrival, in visiting the park near Vancouver, where the famous big trees are to be seen--cedars, firs, and spruce; one, perhaps the largest in the world, measures sixty feet round, and a carriage and pair of horses can go inside the trunk, which is hollow. The forest is almost tropical with its luxuriant vegetation and beautiful ferns. Wild animals are to be found there, such as deer, panthers, and a kind of lion, but the latter are rarely seen now near the town.
The voyage between Vancouver and Yokohama takes fourteen days. I was glad to find on board a very nice-looking set of passengers, mostly English. The first day or two we took each other’s measure cautiously, and limited the conversation to a few polite nothings, but before the end of the voyage many of us were firm friends.
There were about a hundred first-class passengers, and three hundred miserable-looking Chinese in the steerage. Many of them looked wretchedly ill, and we saw a number of long black boxes in the hold, which we heard afterwards were coffins. It seems that the one desire of a Chinaman is to be buried in his native land, otherwise he believes that his soul will go into some low animal instead of to Paradise. Just before sailing at midnight, I noticed a long line of Chinese passing up the gangway to the steamer. Before being admitted, they were carefully examined by the ship’s doctor. Many poor wretches were turned back, discovered to be suffering from some fatal chest disease very prevalent amongst the Chinese. As it was, I believe, there were several deaths on board, in which case the steamship company was bound under contract to convey the Chinese passenger, alive or dead, to his destination.
Our stewards on board were all Chinamen, and most quick and willing. They had all very long pigtails tied with black silk at the ends, and little black caps with red tassels on their heads. When waiting at table they wore butcher-blue garments down to their heels, white cuffs; and their funny little feet were encased in white shoes with black rosettes. They had sad, old-looking faces, but were really quite cheerful, and talked incessantly in their queer pigeon-English. I longed to send one home as a present to our old Rector, who always described our Norfolk servants as ‘the curse of the age.’
An amusement committee was soon organized on board, and by the end of the first week we were all busily engaged in Bridge, Chess, Halma, and other tournaments--cricket matches, athletic sports, and one or two dances when the weather was sufficiently calm. The Pacific Ocean rather belies its name, as typhoons and severe storms prevail at times, and we met one battered-looking sailing-ship, which reported very rough weather off the Japanese coast. However, we were most fortunate during the whole voyage in having nothing worse than a stiff breeze on one or two occasions, although that was quite sufficient to send many of the passengers, including myself, to their berths; but my fears of being ‘battened down’ were never realized.
In consequence of continually travelling westward, when we reached the meridian of 180° from Greenwich, we were told that a day would be dropped to equalize matters. Consequently, after going to bed one Sunday night, we woke up to find it was Tuesday morning, and our missing day was never recovered until, on our voyage home to England, we sailed eastward. As there was much variety of opinion as to the reason of the missing day, one of the passengers offered a prize for the best poem describing why we must lose a day, where it goes to, and what is done with it. About twenty of the passengers sent in verses, which were read aloud by the Captain in the saloon and voted for. The prize was won by an American missionary. Not that his was by any means the best poem, but the entire missionary party--there was a large gathering of them on board--all arranged beforehand to vote for their dear brother, a rather unfair proceeding.
During the voyage a stupid practical joke was played, of which I was one of the chief victims. An Australian lady and her daughter sent out invitations to a tea-party in honour of the daughter’s birthday. About a dozen of us were invited, including the Captain and my father and me. A sumptuous spread was prepared--cakes, sweets of all kinds, and a delicious-looking soufflé, which our hostess particularly begged us to try. I innocently put a spoonful into my mouth, when I discovered to my disgust it was made of nothing but beaten-up soap--the most horrible concoction imaginable. Two or three other people at the table followed suit, and our feelings can be better imagined than described. It took, indeed, some time before I recovered from the effects.
Nemesis, however, awaited the originators of this unpleasant trick. A trial by jury was decided upon. Judge, counsel, and jury were got together, and large notices were placed about the ship saying that a most cold-blooded attempt at wholesale murder by poison had been attempted, but fortunately, with no fatal results; that the police had every reason to believe that jealousy was at the bottom of it, and so on.
After this, the Australian lady and her daughter found life on board ship not altogether so delightful as they had expected, but began to realize that it is sometimes unwise to play practical jokes. The trial took place two evenings later in the saloon, which was arranged as much as possible like a court-room. The judge, an English Colonel, arrayed in a long scarlet cloak and a wig, sat at a table. The prisoners were placed in chairs on another table, guarded by a policeman. The counsel for the plaintiffs and the defendants had wigs made by the ship’s barber, a man of resource, who painted us up to represent our various characters, making the three victims who had swallowed the soap appear ghastly with white chalk. The jury was composed of seven ladies. There were also six witnesses, an usher, and a clerk of the courts.
The counsel on both sides spoke well. The defence was that soap was harmless and good to eat, and a witness was called who was really a soap manufacturer at Shanghai. After the jury had retired for some minutes, they returned with the verdict ‘Guilty,’ at which the two prisoners turned pale and dissolved into tears. The judge, looking very stern, after a short speech on the iniquity of practical jokes, sentenced the prisoners to be taken on their arrival at Yokohama to be tattooed on their wrists with the words ‘Pears’ Soap.’ Needless to say, this threat was not carried into effect; but I think the offenders were already sufficiently punished. Early the following morning my father called me to see the first glimpse of Japan--a faint outline of blue hills against the horizon, which gradually became more and more distinct until by mid-day we anchored in Japan waters, and our long, pleasant voyage was at an end.
On landing at Yokohama, we took rickshaws to the Grand Hotel, a large English building on the Bund facing the harbour. Never shall I forget my first ride in the quaint little carriage resembling a small buggy, only instead of having a horse in the shafts, there was a funny little brown grinning man, dressed in a blue cotton garment, barefooted, with a large white hat like a mushroom on his head, on which was printed his name and number. He started off at a steady trot and, after the first feeling of insecurity had passed, I thoroughly enjoyed the motion and was quite sorry when we, with our luggage, which had followed us in a long line of rickshaws, were deposited at the steps of the hotel.
I was much amused the morning after my arrival before I was dressed to receive visits from three Chinese tailors. They marched calmly into my room at various times, without waiting for me to answer their knock, bringing patterns and begging me to patronize them. The last had hardly departed when another visitor appeared, in the shape of a dealer in curios. He proceeded to strew my room with brocades, embroideries and every conceivable knick-knack. I was unable to resist a quaint little Japanese clock, a small bronze Buddha, and an embroidered silk kimono, for which treasures I afterwards found I had paid about three times their value, though I fondly imagined I had made excellent bargains.
There was a charming view from the veranda of my room. The harbour was gay with Japanese sanpans,[A] little sailing-boats,--here and there a man-of-war and a couple of mail-steamers. Late that afternoon I saw the Empress of India steaming slowly out of the harbour, bound for Hongkong. It seemed rather like saying good-bye to an old friend, and I felt a little homesick as I watched my last link with the old world disappear into the dim distance.
