C.H. DICKIE: OUT OF THE PAST (Part 5)
by An M.P.
The author of this enjoyable memoir, Charles Herbert Dickie, obviously had as much fund recounting his colourful adventures as he'd had living them. (Family photo)
(Stressed and worn out by his unsuccessful mining explorations in B.C.’s northwest, Charles Dickie embarks upon a long sea voyage to recuperate. Readers, please note: Dickie was a man of his times and not above disparaging other races and ethnicities. I am letting him speak for himself at the risk of offending some Chronicles readers.—TWP.)
CHAPTER VII
“Yesterday’s luxuries become today’s necessities.”
We are historically informed that the first great physician was Hippocrates, who lived, taught and prescribed in Greece four centuries before the Christian era.
Hippocrates was reputed to have been a descendant of the mythical Aesculapius and the daughter of the equally mythical Hercules, but although the pedigree of the great physician is open to question, that he lived is not, and that some of his teachings have been accepted as truisms all down the ages.
One of these was that change of environment, scenery and regimen were preventatives, if not cures, for most of the mental and physical ills which flesh is heir to. My very soul having been tried by adverse factors that endangered the thought and wonder whether or not the game of life was worth while and having tossed my head on an ever restless pillow until reason almost tottered, I decided to test out Hippocratean theory, and, in due course, embarked on the good ship Mongolia en route from San Francisco for the Orient or elsewhere as fancy dictated.
The passenger list was a large one and, although as is invariably the case, there were some we would have preferred “missed the boat”. The majority were companionable people and life on shipboard as pleasant, accentuated in my case by the anticipatory delight of revisiting lands of my early dreams where, under an equatorial sun and fanned by sensuous Southern breezes, my occidental troubles might be forgotten and tranquility of mind restored.
A portion of the ship’s deck near the stern was given over to the Chinese crew who were accorded gambling privileges and each afternoon passengers ranged themselves along the dividing barrier and played “Chuck-a-Luck” with the Mongolian gamblers, usually for moderate stakes, invariably resulting unprofitably for the Caucasian race. Having dallied with the game at odd times, I decided that in the interests of the white race they should be put out of business and, having perfected my “system,” I sauntered up to the rail and casually inquired as to the limit of the game.
The operator being a man of few words gave a glance at the masthead, a mute rejoinder that the limit was off and I went to work for an hour or more, and then I sauntered back again and negotiated a loan from the purser to see me through to a port where I could re-arrange my finances.
Later on in British Columbia a Chinese gambler, in moments of friendliness, demonstrated, for my benefit, the startling results that could be cajoled from three ivory cubes with the aid of a suitable dice box in the hands of an experienced operator, who had these gambling accessories trained to contribute to his support and I then quite understood why “Chuck-a-Luck” games still continue to be operated by cunning Orientals to the discomfiture of careless travellers, and I fully understood why I had spent an unprofitable hour or more on an otherwise pleasant morning.
On our passenger list were a number of missionaries one of whom, a smooth oily individual, gave us an address on Samoa and I was not surprised that Samoa had made no great strides towards the adoption of our brand of religion.
When will missionary societies realize the utter uselessness of despatching mediocre individuals to the wily Oriental peoples, who are capable judges of men [who are] worth while. The people will obviously take advantage of an opportunity to learn our language even from those they, at least, at heart, consider their inferiors.
Personal worth and magnetism, requisite to command respect from their fellowmen at home, are qualities just as essential abroad if Oriental people are to be truly converted to the belief that ours is the true religion.
After a pleasant day’s visit to Honolulu, including a visit to the famed Aquarium, a bathe at Waikiki and a drive to points of interest, we steamed away into the setting sun for the land of the Nipponese, with only a few of the best of us left on board. All troubles seemed to slip away when Fujiyama hove in view. Shortly after we were in Yokohama and the Kipling rhyme of the Three Sealers ran through my brain.
“Away in the land of the Japanese
Where the paper lanterns glow,
And the crews of all the shipping drink
At the house of Blood Street Joe;
At nightfall when the landward breeze,
Brings down the harbour noise,
And the ebb of Yokohama’s tide
Swings chattering through the buoys
At Cisco’s Dewdrop Dining House
They tell the tale anew
Of a hidden sea and a hidden fight
When the “Baltic” run from the “Northern Light’
And the Stralsund fought the two.”
Old Japan is a land filled to the brim with industrious little brown people and the surplus resulting from an abnormally large birth rate must migrate. The Hawaiian Islands are filled with them. Time was when Formosa had its cannibals, when it was a rendezvous for pirates where no white man was safe. The Japanese arrived on the scene and adopting drastic, but effective measures purged the land of murderers. Now the land swarms with Japs [sic] and life is safer than in the side streets of many American cities after nightfall.
Japan is alive with bright-eyed children poorly but cleanly clad. So numerous have I seen them at times I was reminded of northern valleys filled with birds during the spring migration. One met with smiles and courtesy throughout Japan and, although realizing to the full the menace of our industrial life on the Pacific Seaboard of America, I could not feel aught but admiration for that indomitable little people, who must and will continue to spread.
The Americans, after conquering the Philippines, announced as their intention that, when the inhabitants of those islands were competent to govern themselves, they would be given the opportunity to do so, but the Japanese came and now they are so numerous that should America relinquish control, Japan would dominate the policy of that country; in fact, today the people of that nation are practically in control of many of the economic factors of the Philippines.
On the Mongolia I had become acquainted with a pleasant young Japanese, who was returning home from Harvard. In a moment of confidence he informed me that his crowning desire was to marry an American lady. I advised him to forget her and choose one of his own people, but I could see that my advice would be unheeded if the lady, like “Barkus,” was willing. Through the hospitality of this young man I had an opportunity to observe, or at least to glance at, the home life of what we might term the elite of Japanese circles, for upon my arrival at Nagasaki I was met by my young friend, who had disembarked at Yokohamo [sic], and carried off to his home where I received many courtesies, even though all conversation, with his father, an impressive substantial looking gentleman and his charming sisters, had to be conducted through an interpreter.
I was taken to what I presumed to be the most exclusive “tea house” in the City and was told that I owned it. After a repast which consisted of everything from raw fish to humming birds, or at lest birds almost as small, and having been initiated into the intricacies of feeding myself with chopsticks by two charming little maidens who resembled beautiful little butterflies rather than waitresses, I waded through eight or ten courses of the menu when I was obliged to throw up my hands, being filled to capacity. I felt that I would never be hungry again, but, although gorged to repletion, I experienced no ill effects because of the delectable sauce which doubtless promoted digestion. And then I sailed away from Japan with pleasant memories which have not, after many years, been obliterated.
It was pleasing to have been in Shanghai but it is an easy place to leave, which I did without regret as soon as was possible.
Hong-Kong [sic] approached from seaward and bathed in the morning light is architecturally beautiful and pleasant days were mine in that interesting city, cursed by Chinese mendicants.
Singapore, handicapped by a climate, the humidity of which is almost unendurable to one who has for years breathed the exhilarating air of the American Pacific Coast, and in the mountains of British Columbia, contributed to happiness, forgetfulness and wonder. The “meeting place of the Orient” was a never-ending source of interest. Then away to the isle of Ceylon, where days of delight were mine.
What wondrous thoughts occurred to me when steaming through the Red Sea, vague memories of germs implanted on an impressionably young brain in days of old while sitting in a little Sunday school with attention divided between, at times, monotonous but well meant teachings, and perhaps a bird singing on the window sill and oh! the delight when school was dismissed and we trooped out under blue skies and into fields of green where God really was.
When arriving at Port Said my first thoughts were that I was in a city that was reputed to be the most obscene and wicked city in the World. Obscene and wicked it doubtless is but unless one seeks disgustingly sensuous filth it will not obtrude itself on one even in Port Said.
Cairo the city of the Caliphs was to me intensely interesting and I loved to sit by the hour in front of “Shepherd’s Hotel,” sipping cool drinks while watching Egyptians, Abyssinians, Arabs, Turks and those of other nationalities pass by until I would not have been surprised to have seen Harom Al Raschid or Ali Baba and his forty thieves. (I have no doubt but that I did see forty thieves.) Up the Nile the ruins of the temples of Luxor and Karnak at the ancient city of Egyptian Thebes enthralled me and I could not forgive myself for not having read more deeply or at least have polished up what I, in earlier life, had read of Egyptian history.
After viewing these stupendous ruins all others in the world appear trivial and in comparison Pompeii was as a hamlet compared to a great city.
Later on Naples, where after having visited the famed aquarium and the Art Gallery and taken a trip to Pompeii, I started for the summit of Mt. Vesuvius then smoking so heavily that an eruption was not unexpected. When the party, of which I was one, arrived at the upper end of the tram line, 600 feet below the summit, we were informed by an official that we would not be allowed to proceed further. The cable line up the cone was not running and later on in the day its upper terminal toppled over into the crater. The main party took the next car for Naples while I lingered enjoying the wonderful view of the Bay of Naples and the historical points that lined its shores.
At midday I sojourned to an attractive little hotel where I was met at the door by a faultlessly dressed Manager who, with many genuflections, escorted me to a favourable table in the dining room. Near the entrance sat a well-dressed buxom female in a sort of pulpit which did duty as a cashier’s office. After I had been seated, the Manager disappeared and I also missed the lady. A few minutes later the Manager, this time in a waiter’s costume, took my order. After a pleasant little meal the waiter gave me a check on which were instructions to pay at the office. I gave him a “tip” and he again vanished. When I paid my score to the lady, again in the pulpit, she appeared flushed, had a “kitchen look” so to speak. Then the manager again in his frock coat, with more bowing down bade me au revoir. I have no doubt but that he and the lady comprised the total staff and they played their several parts in the delightful little noonday drama in a manner that was pleasing, humorous and businesslike.
Then the heavens darkened and a violent thunderstorm came on and I had never seen more vivid and wicked lightning. Frequent rumbling from the mountain did not add to the hilarity of the occasion and as Naples looked peaceful and attractive in the distance I did not await the setting sun as I had intended doing, but took a car that had been long delayed by lightning and was soon, and none too soon to please me, in Naples with its Neapolitan sights and smells, a beautifully situated city beaming with wonderful historic interest, but hardly justifying the old saying, “See Naples and die.”
Next came Florence, then Rome, “The Eternal City”. Many wonderful days although at the end of each came a yearning for home, which in due time was reached. I was sound mentally and physically and ready again to fight with beasts at Ephesus, or at least to battle again with the mountains in an endeavour to wrest metallic treasures from their tenacious grasp.
(To be Continued)
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