3. A Boat Journey.
WHATEVER may be the disadvantages which the traveler in China has to put up with, owing to the absence of railways, there is one thing in his favor, calculated to help to break the monotony of an inland journey, and that is the great variety of modes of travel at his disposal. He can, if he choose, begin with a pack mule at Peking, or a Peking cart in Chih-li-a wheel-barrow, or a sail-barrow―that is, a wheel-barrow drawn by a donkey, pushed by a man, and, provided the wind be favorable, assisted by a sail of bamboo and canvas. Further south he has the choice of a sedan chair, a pony, and an endless variety of boats— house boats, cargo boats, foot boats, and I know not how many others.
I am about to recount the experiences of a boat journey, in the Cheh-kiang province, taken a few years ago in company with one of the earliest and most devoted missionaries in China.
We were on a journey of visitation to some of the mission stations in that province. There is a certain Chinese Christian named Kyüōyiao, supported by a lady in England, who gives all his time to evangelizing work in a given district. Our purpose being to pay this brother a flying visit, we engaged passages on a regular passenger boat traveling between Ningpo and Fung-hwa. It was a night journey, in what might be called an open boat, but for the fact that a straw mat was bent over our heads. We judiciously engaged room for four passengers, so as thereby to have sufficient space to roll up ourselves in our quilts, and thus to sleep: for a single fare sitting room only is provided, and a dozen men and two women found such in the remainder of the boat. After sunset the anchor was drawn, and a start was made. We were safely landed next morning in the beautiful neighborhood of Fung-hwa, and spent the day with the native Christians of the place. It was here I saw a native Christian funeral for the first time. Of heathen funerals I had seen no end. A native Christian had recently died, and Mr. T. was asked to conduct a funeral service, at the house in which lay the remains of the deceased. It was a solemn assembly, and has made an indelible impression on my mind. A square table and a few chairs were placed in the partly-covered courtyard. There was no burning incense before the coffin, or chanting of prayers for the dead, and beating of gongs, as is usual in heathen funeral rites; but from twenty-five to thirty men and women stood around us, and listened to the reading and preaching of God’s word. It was a dark and cold night, and two solitary candles, burning on the table, only seemed to make the darkness visible, and to add to the solemnity of the scene.
From Fung-hwa, we traveled in the hills in a sedan chair, to the mission station of our friend Kyüōyiao, starting at four in the morning, so as to be able to spend a few hours with the Christians. Our arrival was a cause of such joy, and the invitations to spend the night there so pressing, that we were not able to resist, and, before we had given a decided reply, Mr. K―y had bargained with the chair-bearers to carry us to our destination next day.
Before I relate the experiences of the particular boat journey, to which I have referred, I must explain that there are numerous canals and rivers in the neighborhood of Ning-po, Hang-chow and Shao-hing, the cities themselves often being traversed in every direction by them; in which case there are usually good wide footpaths on either bank, to admit of passengers and wheelbarrow traffic, and numerous bridges, some of stone and some of wood, thrown across, as means of communication between the houses and shops on the two sides of the street.
Our journey from Ning-po to the inland city of Shao-hing was along one of these canals. It was Friday morning when we started, and we were particularly desirous to reach our destination on Saturday, so as to be able to meet all the Christians on the Sunday. There was barely time to accomplish the journey with ordinary fair weather, but the boatman guaranteed to row us there before midnight on Saturday for a certain sum of money.
Our boat was a long and very narrow one―about a foot and a half deep, and very fight. The middle part of the boat was covered over with a straw mat, supported on bamboo arches, and a mat at either end. This covered us in entirely, and just admitted of a sitting position inside, or if we chose to lie down, we could do so, but needed to be very careful in our movements lest we should upset the boat.
The boatman sat at the helm, outside the mat-covered portion, and, by means of an oar in one hand, the rudder in the other, and of a second oar worked by one of his feet, he made us proceed on our voyage at a fairly rapid rate. All that day, and most of the night, our man worked well, but the poor fellow began to get sleepy, and often the splashing of the oars became slower and slower, till they gradually ceased, only to revive again for a few moments.
It is no unusual thing for these foot-boatmen to work two days and a night without sleep, and this our man readily enough agreed to do, but he had over-estimated his powers of endurance, and we felt bound to let him take two hours rest.
On the Saturday afternoon, we were a long way from our destination, and a strong head wind made it impossible for us to reach it that day. With all the boatman’s remaining strength, he could barely keep the boat from being blown back. This adversity so distressed him that he began to give way to despair, and grumbled a good deal, declaring that it was absolutely impossible to reach Shao-hing before next day, Sunday.
We ourselves could see little prospect of accomplishing the journey that night, unless the wind changed in our favor, and as the wind often sets in one direction for many days together, we could only hope in God. Mr. T., who spoke the local dialect of the district fluently, put his head outside the mat that covered us in, and told the man that we quite agreed with him that there was little prospect of our reaching Shao-hing by the time arranged, and that, therefore, we were going to ask our God to change the wind, so that we might worship with the Christians next day. Further, that if he watched, he would see that our God was one who heard prayer. This was a bold thing to say, but it was done in faith. The boatman made reply that his gods could not change the wind. Then we said our God is the living God, and can do as He pleases.
We prayed that the Lord would graciously hear our petition, and cause the wind to change in our favor, so that we might be able to reach Shao-hing that night, and thus be able to meet the native Christians, and our English fellow-workers next day.
On my left there was a little window in the matting, which enabled me to see the wind blowing the reeds and shrubs on the bank of the canal. For a quarter of an hour I kept an eager look out, watch in hand, to note how long the answer was in coming. Presently, to my great joy, I noticed that the tops of the reeds suddenly swerved round, and began blowing in the opposite direction. A few moments after I heard the boatman hoisting his sail, and, a few minutes later, we began to move along with some speed. Mr. T. had been so confident of the answer coming, that he had actually fallen asleep in the meantime, and it was necessary for me to wake him up before the boatman’s attention could be directed to the answer our gracious God had given us, as I was unable to speak the particular dialect of Ning-po, of which place our boatman was a native.
At eleven o’clock that night we arrived at the city gates, and presently passed in. It was very dark, and rain was falling. The boatman had never been in the city before, and did not know the particular bridge we had mentioned as being the nearest point to the Mission House. The whole city appeared to be a network of canals, which made it difficult for a stranger, even in the daylight, to find his way, how much more then, in a dark and wet night! There were no people about— we could not even hear the city watchman’s gong, and our man again became very dissatisfied, complained of being wet and tired, and declared he could never find his way in the dark. Here, we thought, was another matter for prayer, and so we asked our heavenly Father to quiet the boatman, and to guide him to the bridge. In a moment the man ceased grumbling, and all we heard for half an hour was the splashing of the oars in the water, and the pattering of the rain on the roof of our boat.
Again and again the boat turned up this canal and down that one and into another, as if the man had grown utterly careless, and was going anywhere. Presently he heard steps coming along the street, so we stopped to inquire the way to the said bridge. “Why,” replied the stranger, “you are just by the side of it,” as he passed on.
The Lord had thus guided us to the very spot where we wished to land. In a few minutes all our effects were handed out, and carried up to the mission station. The boatman received his money, and took his departure, apparently well pleased with the extra cash we gave him. By midnight we were comfortably housed with the English Missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Meadows, who for many years have labored in this city, and who have been the means of bringing large numbers of the Chinese to Christ.
Just we as were retiring for the night, we discovered that our medicine chest was missing. Search was at once made, but without finding it. We went up and down the side of the canal, in the hope of discovering our boatman anchored for the night. We called him by name as loud as we could, but received no answer, and were at last compelled to give up the search.
However, previous experience of God’s faithfulness encouraged us to believe it would be brought back in answer to our petition. Special prayer was therefore made that it might be found. And in the morning the first thing which caught our eye was the identical medicine chest standing on the window sill in the verandah. Upon inquiry we learned that the boatman had brought it early that morning, stating that it had been left in the boat the previous night.
The honesty of this boatman in bringing back our missing property under such circumstances was, I think, more remarkable than the answers to prayer about the wind, for his first thought would be that it contained silver, but, unlike the majority of men of his station and nation, he was honest.
What kind of impression had been made upon his mind by the striking evidence he had received of the power of our God, in changing the course of the wind in our favor, we could not tell, but this fact probably had something to do with the speedy delivery of the missing medicine chest.
Some of our young readers may feel specially interested in the above account of a short journey in a Chinese foot-boat, when we state that it was taken in that part of China where exists today the view which is represented on our familiar willow-pattern crockery, so frequently used in former years for blue plates and dishes, the view being the scene of the tragedy which is represented on the “willow pattern.”
A. G. P.