Rare Earth
settled down on the waves like a flock of seagulls. Small junks, with here and there a gigantic one that seemed bursting with the weight of its cargo. House-boats, sampans, motor-boats, bright colored, drab, gray, surrounded the steamer. And on the air floated a fantastic echo of gibberish as though all the hordes of yellow men in China were crying to be heard. Of course the sounds came from the throats of the boatmen eager for business and from the steerage passengers who were shouting lustily, either cheering their native land or fighting among themselves, Scobee did not know which. Such was the first impression which he had of China, discordant, hoarse, without regard or reason.
Until one is able to untangle the skein of sounds which surround China, it is a hopeless muddle. But when one's ear becomes attuned to the harmony of it, it possesses a strange sombre beauty.
At Shanghai they stopped for a few nights at the Hotel Oriental and now the full volume
of the voice of China came to Scobee's ears.
[200]
