At sea off Chinese Coast on way from Shanghai to
Hong-kong, August 26th. Yesterday a thousand British subjects were brought to our ship by British destroyers. During the 14 mile journey from Shanghai the refugees were made to remain below deck on account of the firing. For six hours we watched with pride the British Navy unostentatiously carrying out its job. The Bluejackets joking as they helped their motley company of passengers on board.
Rarely can there have been gathered together on one ship a more mixed assortment of the subjects of King George. An American fellow-passenger was heard to observe, " I always knew the British were funny people, but I did not know that they had so many funny people belonging to them." Amongst the thousand evacues there seemed to be every kind of British subject east of Suez. Black-bearded Sikhs, gentle Indian women, charming in their saris, leading large- eyed children by the hand, Chinese men and women from Hong-kong and Malaya, the Chinese children looking like the Chinese dolls in toy shops, Malays, and every type of Briton. Never before has this ship carried a miscellaneous human cargo, unless it was at the time of the Japanese earth- quake, 14 years ago.
Most of the public-rooms and the promenade-decks have been converted into dormitories, and as we walk to our cabins we tread carefully across mothers with their babies, mattresses, bundles, biscuit tins and every form of household god. Small wonder that the captain thanks his lucky stars that we are sailing over smooth waters. The sea as I write is emerald green, and dotted on its surface are picturesque yellow-sailed junks. Great banks of white cloud are resting on the blue mountains of the Chinese coast.
The refugees are singularly cheerful despite their recent experiences and the least complaining are the Chinese, whose Confucianism has taught them to bear the day's burdens stoically. Groups of the refugees occupy themselves by playing cards or dominoes, or lying on their mattresses chewing gum or sucking sweets. Every form of meal is being consumed. Close to me a thin Chinaman is smearing chunks of potted meat on water biscuits, near frm two red- nailed " Westernised " Chinese girls are eating sweets and reading stories from the American magazine, " True Exp eri- ences," entitled " My Husband will Never Know," and " Three Women in my Life." Further along the deck an Indian woman gave birth unexpectedly to a baby three hours ago.
* * * *
Previous page
