Ports of the world - Canton/A Battle for Life

by the United States Bureau of Naval Personnel

A BATTLE FOR LIFE

N American who has lived in his own country and has become accustomed to seeing the Chinaman as a quiet, unassuming, stoical, and perhaps a bit complacent, sort of a person, is apt to be abruptly disillusioned—in one respect at any rate—when he lands from the Hongkong steamer at the Canton wharf. A majority of the Chinese in Canton are just what the Chinese one ordinarily sees in the United States are not. As Canton is different, so the Chinese in Canton are different. The arrival of a steamer is usually the signal for an onslaught by howling, cursing men and boys who appear to be either direct descendants or near relatives of the river pirates hiding along the banks of the Chukiang River on the road to Canton.

They come by way of land and they come by way of water. Some hop nimbly from sampan to sampan; others climb the railing officially considered as being an adequate barrier against trespassers. They screech and yell in such a ferocious manner that the more timid among the passengers turn pale and wonder whether they have survived the voyage from Hongkong only to meet a greater danger in Canton.

The crowd of yelling, half-naked Chinese is reinforced by others attracted by the din which silences even the brassy clatter of native musical instruments on the funeral boats drifting along in midstream.

 

Street in Canton

 

Some of the natives finally succeed in reaching the side of the steamer, and as the passengers, in doubtful mood, cautiously walk down the gangplank, the Chinese fall upon them, and for a while it appears that a race riot of respectable proportions is brewing.

 

Crowds of Chinamen Watching Passengers at Pier, Canton

 

An occidental fist is doubled. It falls upon an oriental chin. And if the air were filled with shouts and yells a moment ago, it is now flooded with the same. The men passengers prepare to light to the last gasp for the women and children—their hearts being filled with the same ardor possessed by the berserkers of old who, it is said, had quite a reputation for bravery in their time.

It is a battle for life, apparently. The travelers appeal to the ship's officers who endeavor to make themselves heard above the uproar. But the exercise of so many vocal organs has temporarily crippled the sense of hearing, and the officers' words go all unheeded by their charges.

Another occidental fist is doubled, and its possessor (a grim, red-faced man resembling a traveling salesman) uses it to such good advantage that another oriental is tumbled over, but is less fortunate than the first, inasmuch as he sails head over heels into the river and is fished out by a screaming fisher woman who volleys curses on the heads of the excitable "foreign devils."

The score is now two to nothing, the occidentals being in the lead, and further casualties are in the offing, when a short breathing spell enables the now hoarse ship's officers to make themselves heard to the passengers. "Stop," they shout. "Stop! Don't do that." And they rush to the rescue of a passenger engaged in an international argument with two giant natives. The rescue is effected, and the ship's officers turn to the passengers. "These natives are not cutthroats, nor bandits, nor river pirates," they say, "but just porters and sedan-chair coolies. They're looking for customers, not blood."

The travelers, some angry and some apprehensive before, now cast sheepish grins at one another. The grim, red-faced man (resembling a traveling salesman) gives a dollar to the native whom he had thrown into the river and the first casualty among the natives is given a similar amount. The peace is no longer disturbed.

The renewal of shouts, cries, and yells among the porters and sedan-chair coolies, a crash of cymbals from the funeral boat on the river, and the wail of a fisher woman who has just lost a catch of fish by reason of a broken net, signals the end of the battle for life on the Chukiang River at the port of Canton shortly after break o’ day.