CHAPTER II.

SHANGHAI TO ICHANG.

Shanghai to Ichang— Hankow— A Yang-lse boat — Shasze— The plains of Ilupeh— A Szechuan river-boat— Flooded districtsApproach to the Hills — Ichang.

From Shanghai to Hankow the voyage is performed by one of the many magnificent steamers of American type which, since the opening of the Yang-tse river to foreign trade in i860, ply daily between those two ports, a distance of 600 miles. It was on the eve of the Chinese New Year, in the middle of February, when at midnight I rode down in a jinricshaw to Jardine's wharf, and took up my quarters on board the Tai- Wo moored alongside, preparatory to starting up-stream the following morning at daylight. But sleep was no easy matter; thousands of fire-crackers were being let off in the streets, alive with countless Chinese lanterns, and the din was deafening. Native passengers were crowding on board, and the coolies carrying their luggage were wrangling over their pay. I at length got to sleep in the early hours of the morning, and woke up to find that we were in the sea of muddy water which forms the lower reaches of the Great River. A thin line of brown, a shade deeper than that of the water, barely visible on the starboard hand, indicated the left bank, while in the opposite direction the muddy waste extended to the horizon. Not a stray junk moving enlivened the desolate

1 6 Through the Yang-tse Gorges

prospect ; all were in port, keeping the New Year's holidays, and a dull leaden sky completed the . gloom of the chill Fehruary morning.

Little of interest occurred on the voyage up as we steamed on through four days and nights, picking up and setting down the rare passengers moving at this festal time. We spent an hour upon a sandbank above Kiukiang, ploughing up the muddy bottom in our endeavours to get afloat again. Off Nganking, the capital city of the province of Nganhui, we had the misfortune to collide with a crockery-laden junk, the captain of which quickly ran his vessel ashore, and so saved her from sinking. She was one of the few junks that set sail in the early days of the New Year in order to take advantage of the holidays, during which the Likin or tax stations are closed, and so the junks pass free. Our worthy skipper anchored at once, and put off in a boat to ascertain the extent of the damage. The bales of blue and white rice-bowls of which the cargo consisted, were quickly unladen and placed on the bank, the hole was patched up and the cargo restored, and the junk taken in tow to Kiukiang, her owner's home. Here the damage was appraised and paid for, and the incident ended. But I could not avoid being impressed with the practical method adopted by the Chinese in the construction of their flimsy-looking junks — in building the hull in compartments, a consequence of which is that, although accidents on the river are frequent, a total loss rarely occurs.

The winter sun, always warm in these latitudes, was shining brightly as we moored alongside the great quay, or " Bund," which extends along the river-front of the British settlement at Hankow. As at Shanghai, a roadway, lined with trees, some eighty yards wide, separates the palatial residences of the merchants from the steep river-shore,

The Hankow Bund ly

which is faced by a magnificent stone embankment. Unlike Shanghai, however, except during the short tea season in early summer, no carriages and but a few pedestrians are seen, and the concession has the lifeless depressing aspect of a seaside watering-place in the off season. The busy crowded quarter in which the Chinese live is entirely cut off from the concession, and the Chinese only resort thither when they have actual business to transact with the few residents who remain in Hankow throughout the winter. After landing from the steamer and ascending the long and wide stone stairs that lead up from the river, I traversed the deserted bund, and making my way to the dirty crowded Chinese city, set about making the necessary preparations for my four months' voyage into the interior. At length, on Saturday, the 24th February, everything was ready for the start, and from this time on, my daily journal, written up each night on the road, tells exactly what I saw, and will not fail, I trust, to convey to the reader, beyond a description of the country traversed, some hitherto undescribed phases of the interesting stationary civilization with which I came in contact.

Su7iday, Febmary 25//^. — Two boats having been engaged, and all my things sent on board, I hoped, after the endless delays and postponements which had kept me now a week in Hankow, thaf dinner-time would see me well under way on the mysterious river. To my disgust, my companion, a Shansi merchant, was not forthcoming at the appointed time, but later in the day informed me we should positively start on the following day at ten o'clock. I availed myself of the hospitality of my kind friend, the manager of the Hong-kong and Shanghai Bank, for another night, and on Monday Mr. Chang duly appeared, and we set off together in a sampan from the steps of the bund, a descent of fifty feet from the

c

1 8 Through the Yang-tse Gorges

river's summer level, to join the boats which were to convey us to Shasze, the port at which we are to exchange into the larger boat which takes us up the rapids. The native passenger boats, which ply to Shasze and elsewhere, were moored some distance up the Han river, an affluent which falls into the Yang-tse on its left or western bank, about a mile above the concession limits. Here, after rowing up against the stream past endless tiers of up-country junks, we at length found our boat, which was destined to be my residence during the next fourteen days. This boat had been engaged nearly a week before, but nothing would induce the owner to bring her down-stream, and let me embark in comfort off my host's door. The real reason of his refusal I found to be that each line of boats has its special mooring-ground. The Han river, here about 200 yards wide, and running with a very deep rapid current, was jammed with thousands of junks, large and small, waiting for business. I now thought we were at last off; not at all, my companion had still some business to transact, and the cook was still ashore. I let him go, and waited patiently in the confined cabin six long hours, when, finding it would be impossible to make a start that night, I took a sampan across to the Hanyang shore, and, despite the frightful mud of a Chinese street after a fortnight's snow and ram, stretched my weary legs by a climb up the lofty hill, from which one enjoys a famous and splendid view over the united cities of Wuchang, Hanyang, and Hankow, the scattered mountains, and the vast swampy plain. Returning on board to a cold dinner, I slept as well as I could amidst the unpleasant surroundings of a Chinese junk-fleet at New Year time.

Tuesday, February 21th, at six a.m., found us rowing down the swift current of the Han ; when reaching the Yang-tse

Tracking tip an Affluent 19

we turned to the right and made our way painfully up stream, past Hanyang to Siao-ho-kou, thirty li (about seven miles distant), the spot where we quit the main river to ascend another affluent. This thirty li occupied six hours' poling and rowing, the almost continuous line of Hunan timber and bamboo rafts in process of unloading along the banks compelling us to proceed against the full force of the current, which from half a knot, its speed on the day of my arrival in Hankow (14th February), had now increased to about two knots, the river having risen two feet in the interval above its then level, which was the lowest of this winter, and some fifty feet below the height attained in the summer freshets. LitUe is to be seen in this reach, nearly a mile in width, beyond the outlines of a few distant hills rising above the low horizon, the near view of the country being totally impeded by the lofty mudbanks, in many places absolutely perpendicular, by which the river is now enclosed. The stream we enter at Siao-ho-kou drains one of the numerous chains of shallow lakes which line the central and lower stretches of the Yang-tse's course. These, in summer, form one vast expanse with the river itself — but in winter are separated from it by wide stretches of alluvial land on which is grown winter wheat — and are connected with the river by rapid winding streams, through which the mud-laden Yang-tse flows up in summer, and do\\Ti which the pellucid lake water, after having deposited its silt, drains off in winter. Into one of these affluents, or as they are called by our own navigators, creeks, we now entered. It was of an even width of about eighty yards, and at the time ten feet deep, and nmning with a current of five to six knots, against which we were painfully towed, making four miles in as many hours, when, heavy rain coming on, we hitched up to the bank for the night, close to an isolated

20 Through the Yang-tse Gorges

rocky point round which the creek rushes, called Hwang Sheng Kang ; having accomplished in this our first day's journey the very respectable distance of eleven miles. This rocky point is remarkable in standing out isolated from the plain at not more than ten feet above its general level, and large enough only to afford room for a small temple and picturesque two-storied Ting-tze or ^xivilion, with a lighthouse in the shape of a square paper lantern : a useful beacon to the belated mariner when the waters are out and the floods extend to the horizon.

Wednesday, February 22,th. — At daylight a heavy snowstorm rendered progress impossible ; the whole country was covered three inches deep, and I lay confined in the dark, owing to all the mats fore and aft covering the boat. At length, at ten o'clock, the weather cleared, although the clouds hung ominously low on the neighbouring hills. The stream here widens out to about 200 yards, and the current slackened to about two knots, rendering progress by coolies tracking along shore comparatively easy as compared with yesterday. Notwithstanding we only made twenty li, say six miles, in four hours ; after which we again came to a halt at a place called P'u-tan, sixty li from Hankow, say seventeen miles. This place turned out to be the home of our " Lao-ta " (old-great) or captain, and this necessitated his spending the night ashore. We did not, however, lose much, as, after sundry hailstorms, heavy rain set in at four o'clock, and continued throughout the night. The country through which we passed to-day forms in summer the bed of a vast lake, out of which rise, like islands, isolated barren sandstone hills of from ten to 200 feet high. On one of the former is built the village of P'ut-an, at the height of the summer floods. It has an untidy, dilapidated look, like a place that has recently been under water, the stone bunding