Believing- that the upper Yangtse River (that is to say the river above Ichang) is little known to the service, and that the conditions therein differ somewhat from those of other waters in which our vessels have cruised and with which the average officer is familiar, an attempt will be made to narrate some of our experiences and indicate the conditions encountered in those waters. Steam vessels, mostly gunboats, have been navigating the upper Yangtse since 1898, and a number of interesting books, containing useful navigational data, have been written. Should one desire to go into such details these may be consulted, but this article will deal only with impressions gained during less than two years in the upper Yangtse and the methods which have been found most useful in handling steam vessels.
The river from Ichang to its mouth courses through a great alluvial plain, and its perils consist largely of silt banks and shifting channels. Starting up river from here there is an abrupt change. One-half hour after getting underway at Ichang and standing up river the steamer makes almost a complete right angle turn, and enters the Ichang Gorge. The cultivated slopes, the silt shoals and the high earthen banks (or levees) of the lower river are, indeed, a decided contrast to the deep gorge with precipitate rocky sides rising several hundred feet on both sides of the river. It all comes so suddenly and the scenery is so entirely different from that which one sees on the lower river that doubtless few travelers really begin to appreciate the beauty of the Ichang Gorge before its several miles have been traversed and the Lampshire Gorge has been entered. When one first enters the Yangtse gorges the water appears peaceful and smooth, and there is really little to indicate the difficulties which await a steamer only a few hours farther up. As a vessel proceeds through the first two gorges the gradual increase in current strength is quite noticeable.
Finally the Wu-i-tan. a rapid of the second or third order, depending upon the water level, is reached and your vessel has a go at her first rapid.
This rapid is of little importance, and lies between Heng-shih-tse on one side and Cha-pou on the other. Having gotten through this without difficulty, the vessel enters a winding rocky stretch of water known to the natives as Yao-tsa-ho. Of all the bad places in the upper Yangtse, there is probably none worse all the year round than this. The currents are strong at all water levels, and throughout its 14 miles of length it is always a source of danger to both junks and steamers. Here the river widens out arid is flanked on both sides by great irregular masses of rock, some solid, some just great banks of large boulders, and others of small rocks. Huge rocks and boulder banks abound in the river itself, and from some of the shore rocks long irregular ribs extend out into the swift-running stream, causing violent swirls and very strong currents. At low water the channel is irregular and full of sharp turns, while at high water this portion of the river becomes a mass of dangerous swirls and whirlpools, caused by the strong down-coming water striking the irregular rock formations and bounding off at varying angles.
At the head of Yao-tsa-ho is the Kung-ling-tan—"tan" being the term applied by the natives to all rapids. In winter this is one of the impassable places; not so much on account of the strength of the current as on account of the shoal and tortuous channel. With an Ichang watermark of seven feet or more it may be navigated with safety. With less than that it is dangerous. According to all information obtainable, only one vessel, the German S. S. Suihsiang, has attempted to navigate this rapid during low water. She left Ichang on the morning of December 27, 1900, bound up river on her maiden trip. About 11 a. m. she struck one of the so-called "pearls" of the Kung-ling-tan, and in less than an hour she was a total wreck. No doubt a comparatively small amount of money wisely spent could remove the worst dangers at this place, and make it at least no worse than many others which are navigated at low water with a fair margin of safety.
Looking up river from the head of the Kung-ling-tan one sees less than half a mile away the stately entrance to the Niu-kan, Ma-fei-hsia, or Ox Liver, Horse Lung Gorge; so called on account of certain formations on the cliffs bearing, to the imaginative Chinaman's mind, some resemblance to these internal organs of the animals named. This gorge is about four miles long, and is one of the prettiest in the river.
At the upper end of this gorge is the Tching-tan, or New Rapid. About 300 years ago, as nearly as can be ascertained, an enormous amount of rock broke loose from the mountain on the right bank and slid into the river, partly blocking its flow and forming the Tching-tan. At high and middle water this rapid disappears, but at low water there are three distinct rapids. Of these the uppermost one is by far the worst. With the Ichang watermark at or near zero this upper rapid is impassable for anything except junks controlled by numerous lines and in the hands of experienced pilots.
Passing the Tching-tan, the Mitan Gorge, generally known as Ping-sobao-jen Gorge, is entered. This gorge is only about one and one-half miles long, and due to the depth of the water a fairly slow current is encountered, except at high water. Above the Mitan Gorge the river widens and the currents become more troublesome. Particularly troublesome is that stretch of water generally known as the Kwei-chow Reach. This is very bad at low water, and troublesome at high levels on account of the numerous swirls. It embraces the very narrow passage of Whong-tsien and the turbulent races of Se-chi-tang, Ho-san-tan. Fong-tan and Lienho-tan. where the fairways are narrow and dangerous, and the danger of collision with downward bound junks is great. Strong water is encountered the greater portion of the distance between here and the Yetan.
The Yetan is the strongest rapid on the river. The approach, except when the rapid is at its worst, is not so difficult; but the current is very strong throughout a considerable rise and fall of the river. It is probably at its worst with an Ichang watermark of about 12 to 18 feet and river rising. The rapid was in this condition in May, 191 5, when the Monocacy was on her way down river. While still a mile above the rapid it could be plainly observed, and some time before reaching it the roar of the rushing water could be heard. Just before entering the rapid full speed was rung up, so as to give all possible assistance to the rudders, and we entered the strong water steering carefully for the center of the tongue. The vessel passed through the swiftest part of the rapid at almost incredible speed, probably not less than 26 knots over the ground. The drop over the rapid was very noticeable, and when the little Monocacy dove into the "chow" water below the decrease in speed was so pronounced that it seemed as though she had suddenly stopped.
Yetan is caused by an immense boulder bank extending out from the left bank more than halfway across the river. When this bank is just under cover the navigation for junks is very dangerous. At high water no rapid exists at Yetan.
About four and one-half miles above Yetan full speed is again required for a few minutes in order to steam the Ta-pa-tau-tan. About one and one-quarter miles above Ta-pa-tau-tan the Niu-kou-tan is encountered. The reach of water between Chong-shih-men and Niu-kou-tan is one of the most turbulent in the river at high water, and is rendered particularly dangerous at such times on account of the difficulties incident to downward bound junk traffic.
Niu-kou-tan, like Yetan, is caused by a large boulder bank extending out from the left bank. If entered on the right or south side of the river by an ascending steamer of 13 knots speed Niu-kou-tan offers no special difficulties at most water levels.. In October, 1914, when the Monocacy was bound up river, the pilot elected to enter the rapid from the left or north bank side. The boulder bank here extends out in such a manner that as a steamer comes up to the rapid point at full speed it must enter the rapid with a violent current on the bow. The result, naturally, is a literal submersion of all the forward portion of the main deck, with sheets of water thrown onto the upper deck and the bridge. The Monocacy on this occasion buried herself to such an extent that the forecastle was entirely under water, and for an appreciable time only the tops of the anchor engine and capstan were visible. As will be shown later, entering a rapid at such an angle is an extremely hazardous proceeding, and should not be done when avoidable.
From Niu-kou-tan to the entrance of the Wushan Gorge the river presents some excellent views, and although the currents are strong with a few lesser rapids, no particular navigational difficulties are encountered. The Tsing-chu-piao rapid, about one mile above Patung. is quite a strong rapid, and is difficult during low water. Except in high water and with river rising rapidly at mean water, the current in the Wushan Gorge is not strong, and the ordinary conditions for an up-bound steamer are very favorable. The Wushan Gorge is about 28 miles long. The cliffs on both sides are high, ranging on the average perhaps about 1000 feet above river level. In some places this gorge is probably not over 150 yards wide. The view as one passes through is magnificent.
At the upper end of the Wushan Gorge is the city of Wushan, built on a slope well above the river level, and surrounded by the familiar type of Chinese wall. Between this place and Kwei-chou-fu are a number of rapids, but of these the most important are Hsia-ma-tan (or "Get down from horse rapid") and the Pao-tse-tan.
The Hsia-ma-tan is another rapid which is formed by a boulder bank projecting out from the left or north bank of the river. The bank is apparently caused by rocks, sand, etc., which are washed down from the hills by a small mountain stream entering the river just above it. Up the ravine caused by this stream is a remarkable old cave known as Old Dragon Cave. The story goes that all mounted men should alight at this place and do homage to the presiding genius in the cavern; hence the name of the rapid. The rapid is worst at low water. The writer has never experienced any difficulty here. At high water the rapid disappears.
The Pao-tse-tan, however, is a different proposition. It is formed by a rocky bank on the right and a boulder bank on the left bank of the river. At all stages of the water, except dead low water, this rapid exists, but it is worst at middle water and mean high water. It is rendered all the more dangerous by its unusually difficult approach. For some distance below it (varying in intensity according to the height of the water and the strength of the rapid) is a bay of swirls and whirlpools. Great care must be exercised in making the approach. Much difficulty is experienced in keeping a vessel on even an approximate heading, for the swirls throw her violently first to one side and then the other. It is at such places as this that the wisdom of fitting four powerful rudders to a vessel of the Monocacy's class is emphasized.
In October, 1914, the Monocacy found this rapid by far the most difficult between Ichang and Chungking. The watermark at Ichang upon departure was about 25 feet. On approaching Pao-tse-tan violent swirls were encountered, and although the vessel was steaming at top speed, we were obliged to give her practically full rudder first one way and then the other. Finally the rapid was reached and entered from the left bank side well up above the end of the tongue. Both engines were forced to their utmost, and although they actually made 360 R.P.M. (their designed R.P.M. is 300) we lost ground slowly for a few moments. Finally we made the top of the rapid and had just begun to forge steadily ahead when the working of the port engine telegraph indicated something wrong. The danger being past, that engine was stopped, and an investigation showed that a small rock had been taken in through the port circulating pump suction and had jammed the rotar of the pump. Had this accident occurred one-half minute earlier it is hard to predict what the outcome might have been. Fortunately, the auxiliary exhaust had been, as a matter of caution, opened into both condensers. Had it been on the port condenser alone (as it had been earlier in the trip), steering engine, feed pumps, and all other auxiliaries would have been rendered inoperative almost immediately. A rather nerve-racking experience of the same character had previously demonstrated to us the wisdom of such a precaution.
Having passed Pao-tse-tan one breathes a sigh of relief, for unless the river is fresheting there are no first magnitude rapids to be encountered for many miles. About five and one-half miles above Pao-tse-tan the Bellow's Gorge opens into view, and soon the vessel enters this grandest of the Yangtse gorges. The cliffs rise sheer out of the water to a height of 700 feet, while not one-half mile back, on the left bank, the peaks are said to be more than 4500 feet high. The view on entering the gorge from either end is one of the most magnificent obtainable in the river. The water in the gorge is deep, and the navigation, except at high water and when the river is fresheting, is comparatively simple. During high water the Black Rock Rapid is bad, especially so for junks. Near the western entrance there are bad swirls and whirlpools at high water, and many junks come to grief in this locality. In fact, this gorge, like the others, is rendered dangerous if the river rises abnormally, for then the swirls become very violent. The reasons for this will be given later.
As an up-bound vessel nears the western entrance to Bellows Gorge a number of chiseled holes may be seen on the port hand in the side of a perpendicular cliff rising probably not less than 500 feet out of the river. The Chinese say that sometime about the third century, A. D., a war existed between the ruling authorities above and below the gorges. The invaders came up by river to attack Kwei-chou-fu, the city at the head of the Bellows Gorge. The western entrance, through which it seemed they must emerge, was strongly fortified, and enormous chains are said to have been forged and stretched across the river, their ends having been made fast to holes in the rocks on the right bank, and to huge iron posts imbedded in a flat rock of the left bank. The river people say in support of this that at low water these holes and the posts may be plainly seen if one knows where to look for them. Finding themselves confronted by such formidable defense, the invaders chiseled these holes in the side of the cliff, and from them built a ladder by which they were enabled to go up and over the cliff, thus taking the defenders on the flank, and hence accomplishing their ends.
On the starboard hand as one goes up river, and probably a mile from the western entrance, is a cave in the side of a cliff. In small crevasses, high up above the water, a number of Chinese bellows or wind boxes can be plainly seen. Just who put them there and when they were put there seems to be a matter of considerable doubt. Some say that it is from these that the gorge derives its name of "Bellows," or "Windbox," as it is sometimes called. From the Chinese the writer has heard several explanations offered, but no two of them agree. One old pilot said a "Joss man" had put them there to make a favorable wind blow through the gorge for up-bound junks.
The city of Kwei-chou-fu, situated about two and one-quarter miles above the gorge, offers a very good mooring place. Gunboats and river steamers usually coal here. Few travelers, however, go into the city, for although picturesque at a distance, it is not particularly inviting when seen close aboard.
Above Kwei-chou-fu, or Kwei-fu, as it is commonly called, the appearance of the Yangtse is quite different. Precipitate cliffs and deep gorges gradually give way to long sloping banks, which, where possible, are cultivated. There are a number of rapids, but few of them offer any particular difficulty to a vessel of 13 knots or more at ordinary water levels. The navigation above Kwei-fu may therefore be considered much easier than that below this place. Between Kwei-fu and Wanhsien (a distance of 68 miles) there are many rapids; but of these the following are the most important: The Lao-ma-tan, or "Old Horse Rapid," bad at low water, but never very difficult for a high-power steamer; the Miao-chi-tse-tan, or "Temple Stairs Rapids," fairly bad at all levels, and always to be reckoned with; the Tung-yang-tse-tan, bad at low water, and the Hsin-lung-tan, or "New Dragon Rapid." The Tung-yang-tse-tan is a particularly vicious rapid during low water. The passage is narrow, and it is a very bad place to encounter downward bound junks. The Hsin-lung-tan was formed on September 30, 1896, when, after more than one month of incessant rain, a portion of the hill on the left bank suddenly broke loose and slid into the river. During low water this is the worst rapid in the Yangtse, and is one of the impassable places for steamers. The average difference in water level immediately above and below this rapid in February and March is said to be about seven to nine feet. In 1915 the water was lower than heretofore, and experienced river men estimated the drop at that time as 12 feet. No rapids exist between Kwei-fu and Hsin-lung-tan during high water, and except for the swirls even Hsin-lung-tan is negligible.
About one and one-half miles above Hsin-lung-tan is the village and bay of Pan Tuo. As a winter mooring and drill place this is probably the best in the upper river. A vessel may anchor a hundred yards off the big sand bank, and men may be landed for drill and exercise. Anyone familiar with Szechuan, or similar hill country, will appreciate what it means to find a piece of ground which is fairly level for a couple of hundred feet. It is, indeed, unusual to be able to conduct an infantry drill in a space much larger than the average ship's quarter-deck. The Monocacy remained more than one week at Pan Tuo during December, 1915. Pan Tuo is one of the few places in the upper river which is considered safe as an anchorage, or a mooring, using anchors only. The Monocacy anchored in about four fathoms of water with about 18 fathoms on her riding chain. When day broke the following morning the sand bank near which we had anchored presented an appearance entirely different from that of the preceding day, and large portions of it could be observed breaking off and dropping into the water. The long sloping bank of the day before had entirely disappeared. Farther inshore was just a steep bank. Soundings were taken and the water found to vary from seven to nine fathoms, but the vessel had apparently changed position very little. The water had actually fallen a few inches during the night. The only plausible explanation seemed to be that the whole bottom of the small bay is on a great sloping rock. Silt and sand were deposited by the heavily-laden high waters of summer, and when the river fell to a certain level cross currents or underwater swirls were set up which gradually eroded the sand flooring, and as this was washed out the heavier bank above gave way and worked down to take its place, a large portion of it in the meantime having been taken up by the then fairly clear water and carried on down river. Needless to add, the Monocacy has since then made the practice of getting out lines apply to all mooring and anchoring places alike.
About 24 miles above Pan Tuo is the city of Wanhsien, distant about 183 miles from Ichang and about 175 miles from Chungking. Officers, both naval and merchant, I believe, experience a distinct feeling of satisfaction when their vessels arrive safely at Wanhsien. There is a feeling that the worst half of the up-hill work from Ichang to Chungking is over, and that with an even break of luck the remainder will be safely and shortly accomplished. Steamers can find a good mooring just opposite the city, but the water front which may be so used at all water levels is very limited. In years past Wanhsien was a very important center of trade, second only to Chungking in importance; but in the past few years it is said to have been of less importance commercially than heretofore. Preparations are being made to open the port in the near future, and this will undoubtedly attract foreigners and add to its importance. On the other hand, the projected (and already surveyed) Szechuan railroad does not come within many miles of this city, and should the railroad be built and Wanhsien left entirely out of consideration it will seriously affect the progress of the place. There is usually an abundance of steaming coal at Wanhsien, and all vessels fill bunkers here for the run to Fuchow and Chungking.
Seven miles above Wanhsien is the famous Footan (or Hutan) Rapid. At low water the rapid does not exist; at middle water it is bad, and at ordinary high water, say 60 feet local, it is the worst rapid in the Yangtse River. Above that level Footan improves, and the Fu-mien-tan and Kwan-yin-tan take precedence for hard going. Its appearance at low water is most peculiar. Extending out from the right bank is a huge pile of small boulders, while on the left bank the river is narrowed to less than half its average width by high ribs of peculiarly honeycombed rocks. Their appearance is not unlike a section of Swiss cheese.
Above Hutan the river widens and the hills have a greater slope than they do farther down river. The navigation for about 21 miles presents no special difficulties. In fact, there is fairly good going until Shih-pao-tsai is in sight.
Probably the most picturesque place on the upper river is Shih-pao-tsai, a conspicuous rock rising up 300 feet on the left bank of the river and surmounted by an ancient Buddhist temple. From the river it appears to be rectangular, and the sides are so symmetrical that it is hard to believe that it has not been built by human labor. On the river side of the rock is a sort of pagoda-pavilion, containing a stairway to the top of the rock. Its appearance, I believe, impresses one more as a great medieval castle than as a temple.
Above Shih-pao-tsai the currents are strong all the year round. To even a maritime man this part of the river appears not fraught with many difficulties if he sees it with the watermark at Ichang at 25 to 35 feet. He will wonder, however, why the pilot insists upon crossing back and forth so much, and he will decide in his own mind that the difficulties of the navigation are very much exaggerated. Let this same man make the trip with the Ichang watermark at about 15 feet, and again with it at about 5 to 10 feet. As the water begins to fall he will see the tops of numerous ledges of rock, and then at low water he will be surprised to see the extent of these. They are everywhere; some running out irregularly from one bank or the other; some looking like huge feelers extending perhaps a mile or more down river, or at an angle to the flow of the current. Besides these there are detached masses of rock, great boulders reaching 70 or 80 feet above low water, and innumerable shingle banks which have proved the undoing of more than one vessel already. He will, in fact, realize that this rushing, rock-bound stream is, for navigational purposes, in a class limited to very few, and in many characteristics unequalled. He will understand why his native pilot is an old man before he is a reliable pilot; and, if he has a sense of justice, he will admire and respect the intimate detailed knowledge of a man who, without charts, buoys, beacons, or other navigational aids, pilots his vessel in safety through 500 miles or more of this water at levels varying on an average of 60 to 70 feet to the year.
There is really little change in the navigational aspect of the river from Wanhsien to Chungking, or even to Suifu, which is 238 miles above Chungking. There are, of course, occasional reaches of safer and slower running water, but these are rare, and cover a comparatively small percentage of the river. Above Footan none of the rapids is bad except in high water freshets. At such times the difficulties incident to strong swirly water are quite general, but are accentuated at such places as Fu-mien-tan, Kwan-yin-tan, Yellow Flower Gorge, Kiun-chu-tan, etc. A good general rule to follow during a July or August freshet is to tie up and wait until the river stops rising, for bucking a rise of a foot an hour, or more, is a heartbreaking undertaking.
About 48 miles above Wanhsien the city of Chungchau is passed. It is said to have been a place of importance in days gone by, and its appearance from the river indicates the probable truth of this statement. At present it is of little importance. An excellent mooring may be found here, and for naval vessels it is a good place for drills. An old target range may be found inside the city which the local officials will allow to be used.
Leaving Chungchau, the next place of interest is Fengtu. Located on a low hill and "protected" by several pagodas and the Mountain of the Emperor of Heaven, it presents a rather pleasing appearance from a vessel standing up river. It will not bear a closer inspection though, for, as some one has truthfully said, its streets are "filthy in fine, and impassable in wet weather." In the flood of 1870 the city was almost completely destroyed, and a new site, surrounded by an expensive and elaborate wall, was decided upon by the officials. The new site was 200 feet above river, in order to insure safety during the summer freshets; but the people refused to leave the old site, some saying that the new city was haunted, and others that it was too far to carry water. Just below the city, on the left bank of the river, is the sacred Mountain of the Emperor of Heaven. On its summit are a number of temples, and its partially wooded slopes are literally honeycombed with graves and tombs. Few spots in China are more sacred to the native than this mountain. The temples are said to be more than 1000 years old. Captain S. C. Plant, inspector for the upper river, in his account of Fengtu says, "In one of these temples near the summit the visitor, with a show of ceremony, is shown a hole, said by the priest to lead to the center of the earth; but on dropping a piece of lighted paper down, bottom is reached at perhaps 20 feet. Another remarkable feature of the Tien-cho-shan is that for a very small sum a pass to Paradise, via the pole star, may be obtained, and for another small amount a document insuring the safe and happy delivery of the enceinte, both bearing the seals of the high priest of the Temple of the Emperor and the local mandarin." The Yangtse Kiang Pilot, 1914 edition, describes another of these temples as follows: "The temple dedicated to the emperor of the 'Yin,' or dead, is supposed to be the residence of the emperor of Hades. At every Chinese death the officiating Taoist priest writes a letter to the Tien-tse, duly addressed to Fengtu Chang, notifying him of the newcomer. The dispatch, however, is not sent through the terrestrial, but the celestial, post, being burnt to ashes. The precincts of Tien-tse-shan are supposed to be haunted by innumerable ghosts, and no Chinaman will venture near it at night."
Just above Fengtu the navigation is very difficult at certain water levels. A great area of straggling rock, called Tsan-pei-leang, extends more than two-thirds the distance across the river from the left bank, while from the right bank, opposite this, large irregular rock formations project. When the water is low and flowing between these two there is no difficulty in piloting through the channel (called Hu-ping-tan); but when the water rises sufficiently to cover the rocks, the passage in between becomes a rapid. An intimate knowledge of the locality and skill in handling the river craft are required to safely navigate this place at such times. Long experience and close application, combined with good judgment, qualify the pilot to decide when the Hu-ping-tan channel must be followed, or when it is safe to cross over the top of the Tsan-pei-leang. The general rule is that the channel between the reef and the left bank is available when the Tsan-pei-leang reef is awash. It is such propositions as this that constantly confront the up-river pilot; and upon his judgment depends the safety of the vessel.
About one and one-half miles above Hu-ping-tan is the Kwan-yin- tan. Like Footan, this rapid is nothing in low water. In very high water, and particularly when the river is fresheting, it is very strong and swirly. It was while attempting the approach of this rapid that the little steamer Shu-tung struck on the top of one of the great projections of rock in this locality. The vessel was proceeding over exactly the same ground that she had covered on the preceding trip, and with water at the same level. Suddenly, and without any warning, a great boil and inrush of water, oversetting onto the rocks, rendered the vessel's engines and rudders useless for the moment, and she was thrown violently onto the rocks. These boils and oversets (called Fah-sui by the Chinese) occur off this rapid at regular intervals of about 15 minutes during the high-water stage of the river. It is said that, viewed from the nearby rocks, they are not unlike the surf on the seashore. Attempts to float the Shu-tung proved unsuccessful and, as the river was falling rapidly, it seemed that the little vessel was doomed. Her commander and his European engineer determined to make a fight for it, and at once discharged the vessel as much as possible, and as the water went down shored her up so as to prevent her being seriously injured. As soon as she was entirely out of water her bottom was repaired and painted, the irregular rocks under her bottom were cut away, and all the available timber in the surrounding country was taken to make launching ways for her. Finally, after 30 days of incessant labor, the little vessel was launched into the river below, which in the meantime had receded 40 feet, and proceeded on her way to Chungking.
The run of 30 miles from Kwan-yin-tan to Fu-chow, although not possessing any particular charm, is, if machinery is working well, never monotonous, for, unless the river is rising rapidly, good time is made and a certain degree of pleasure is derived from the anticipation of a good mooring place not many miles away. Then, too, if the run from Wanhsien to Fu-chow is attempted in a single day, keen interest in the speed is only natural, since it must decide whether the mooring place at Fu-chow can be reached before dark. The city of Fu-chow, situated on a high bluff at the confluence of the Yangtse and the Kien Kiang, presents a rather hopeful appearance as it opens into view from an up-bound vessel. On closer approach it is, like most other Chinese cities, distinctly disappointing. The Kien Kiang, or Little River, as it is sometimes called, is said to be navigable for native boats for a distance of 150 to 200 miles above Fu-chow. The boats employed for this purpose are, perhaps, of all Chinese boats, the most eccentric in design. To the foreigner they are commonly known by the expressive term of "crooked-stern" boats. The after end of the main deck twists to one side until at the stern it is practically at right angles to the normal plane of the deck. Over the midship section of the unwieldy looking craft is built a sort of flying bridge. An enormous sweep, extending over the stern and supported on the high side of the twisted stern, is worked from the flying bridge. These vessels are not fitted with rudders, but are steered solely by the sweep. The origin and idea of the "crooked-stern" design is somewhat uncertain, but it is probably the result of many centuries of the same kind of navigation on this swift mountain stream. Like everything else Chinese, the idea is probably the result of practical experience, and its embellishments the result of a certain degree of applied "Joss."
Leaving Fu-chow, good time is made until about seven miles above, when the currents become much stronger. At a picturesque bend in the river about 13 miles above Fu-chow is the city of Ning Shih. A conspicuous arched bridge at this place is a fine example of Chinese architecture. From here until Chai-pan-tsi is passed the navigation, generally speaking, is more difficult. Rocks, shingle banks, rapids and swirls have to be reckoned with, and like many other parts of the river, different water levels affect the movements and the handling of a vessel.
During low water one of the worst places on the river is the Chai-pan-tsi. A sketch of this place will tell more at a glance than could be included in a long- description. The channel to the river's right bank is used until the Chungking watermark is about 10 feet above zero, when it becomes unsafe on account of rocks. Thereafter during the low water season the channel to the river's left bank must be used. It is very narrow and swift. There is probably no worse place on the upper river to meet junks, and it has been the Monocacy's luck to encounter them here every time she has been through except one. The best policy in a place like this, if the steamer is bound up river, is to slow and give the down coming junks a chance to get by in safety. Up-river native crafts have had to contend with the steamer very little, and the native skippers seem to lose their heads completely when one approaches. The recently appointed and very able river inspector, Captain S. C. Plant, who has been associated with the upper Yangtse for more than 16 years, is now endeavoring to formulate certain simple and practical rules of the road for the river which will help the junk master and the steamer skipper to a better understanding of each other.
For a reliable river pilot there is nothing very difficult between Chai-pan-tsi and Chungking, at ordinary waters. At very low water the upper end of the Lo-chi shingle bank presents some difficulties due to rocks and shoal water; but by using a sounding pole a channel of sufficient depth can always be found. It is extremely difficult, however, to get a Chinese pilot to use the sounding pole. Generally speaking, he will not, if it is left to his discretion, use the pole for fear of "losing face"; and he would prefer running a ship ashore to having other river men think that he does not know the exact depth at all places and at all water levels. As a result of such stupidity many accidents have occurred. It is reported that some time ago H. M. S. Widgeon had her bottom very badly injured on the Chang-chow shingle bank through not using the pole. The best rule to follow is to disregard the pilot's wishes in the matter entirely and keep at least one pole going practically all the time when underway, and two when in bad places.
As a vessel enters the Tung-lo-hsia Gorge the lower customs station of Chungking (Tang-chai-to) comes into view, and the weary watch-stander realizes he is at last only eight miles from his moorings. As a rule good speed is maintained, and before long Tang-chai-to and the double bend of the river are left behind, and the seven-story pagoda below the little city of Kiang-pei bursts into view. Soon then the golden Buddha is abeam on the port hand, and Chungking is actually in sight. Proceeding about a mile beyond the golden Buddha the mouth of the Kia-ling-ho (or Little River) comes into view, indicating the dividing line between Chungking and its little sister city, Kiang-pei. As the steamer comes nearly abeam of Kiang-pei the splendid naval establishment of the French is conspicuous on the port bow. The so-called "naval barracks" are excellently located just below the junction of the Yangtse and the Kia-ling-ho. A safe natural mooring for summer and winter makes this location particularly well suited to the purpose. The "barracks" are located on a high rocky bluff overlooking the moorings. They are enclosed in a spacious compound, the stone walls of which are probably 12 to 15 feet high. Healthful, roomy quarters are provided for enlisted personnel, and a large house, furnished and equipped, is provided for officers. Reading rooms, work rooms, etc., are features of this building. It is, when one considers the thought given to these details by the French, small wonder that their officers have accomplished more in their efforts to learn the Yangtse than those of any other nation. Their surveys of the lower Yangtse waters are, of course, well known and held in high regard by all officers navigating the lower river. But their survey work in the upper Yangtse was necessarily accomplished under trying conditions; and its completeness, giving as it does a graphic representation of the river combined with detailed information obtainable on no other charts, merits unstinted praise. Besides the quarters for officers and men, the French base is equipped with machine tools, forges, etc., in sufficient detail and number to make a vessel cruising in these waters practically self-sustaining. Adjoining and under the men's quarters are a large number of storerooms. A stock of all kinds of stores is kept here so that a vessel spending a few months in the upper river is not likely to find herself embarrassed by the lack of certain necessities, her allowed stock of which has been used for proper purposes.
Proceeding a few hundred yards farther the splendid view of Chungking, its suburbs and environs, opens out before the observer. Kiang-pei, really only a walled suburb of Chungking, rises out of the river on the starboard beam, while on the port hand the extensive suburbs occupying all the river bank between Wang-kia-to and Hai-tan-shih open into view. Ahead, on a rocky promontory, rising 300 feet out of the river, is the city of Chungking, pretentious, indeed, in appearance; a veritable "Arabian Nights" city in its indefinite and, at times, almost opaque shroud of fog and smoke. There is no doubt a certain degree of psychology connected with the mysterious, almost unnatural, feeling that comes over one when this magnificent view first comes into sight. The many junks and native boats of all kinds, the singing of the boatmen, the bustle and noise of the thousands of cargo and water coolies on shore, the (at a distance) almost sublime appearance of the city of Chungking, are in such decided contrast to the wild country through which one travels after leaving Ichang that the average traveler is really overcome for the moment, and lost in admiration of this, the noblest view of purely Chinese industry in all the Yangtse River.
In general characteristics Chungking is not unlike most of the other up-river cities. It is, however, the largest and most important of these. The sketch plan will no doubt assist in making the description more comprehensive. Between the Yangtse and its affluent, the Kia-hng-ho, is a long, fairly narrow peninsula, the lower portion of which is the site of Chungking. The population of the city is variously estimated at from 200,000 to 500,000, but there are no accurate figures obtainable. To the writer's inquiry regarding this matter, a prominent Chinese official replied that he did not know, but that he would have a census taken right away and supply the desired information. Needless to say, he was merely "saving face," and had no intention of putting his voluntary promise into execution. There is a great difference in the appearance of the city in summer and in winter, due to the variation in water level. The two principal hills upon which the city is built are all of 300 feet above the normal zero water level of the river in winter. The city is surrounded by a crenellated wall, which is said to have been built in the fourteenth century. There are eight main gates. Of those on the river, the most important are the Tai-ping-men, the Tung-shui-men and the Chao-tien-men. Leading up to these from the river are long flights of stone steps. Large, clumsy mailed gates guard the entrances, and these, with the exception of the Tai-ping-men, are closed and locked before sundown. Sentries representing both the commanding general and the police department flank the gates and scrutinize every parcel a Chinese carries; and woe betide the poor unfortunate who is even suspected of attempting to smuggle forbidden articles into or out of the city. The Tung-yuan-men, or West gate, is the only one of the main gates which does not open onto the river. It is the terminus of the great thoroughfare to Cheng-tu, the capital of the province. Just outside this gate is the public execution ground, and many a poor devil meets an unhappy and untimely end here. In fact, during the writer's stay in this part of China these executions were of practically daily occurrence. Sometimes a day or so passed without the curious crowd being seen on the wall overlooking the gate—its presence is always a sure sign that another victim of China's peculiar form of government was paying the penalty. Sometimes only one poor soul faced the firing squad; but frequently there were several. Many days there were 20 or more. When a large number were condemned the policy seemed to be to spread them out over several days, whether for the edification of the populace, or for the convenience of the official undertaker, it has not been ascertained. The people of the street have been hardened to this sort of thing, though, and parties of men, women, and children are always on hand when the tragic procession arrives at the gate. Usually the condemned man is shot. Neither ammunition nor sentiment is wasted, however, for usually a single shot is fired at very close range. The victim falls and the "firing squad," consisting of about a section of infantry, enthusiastically supported by the too curious spectators, eagerly watches his death agonies until he is officially pronounced dead. Frequently this is a long time, for the Chinese soldier is none too good a shot, nor are his senses of humane treatment so highly developed that he apparently cares just where the victim is struck. Generally the attempt is made to shoot them in the chest or the back, but frequently the shot goes wide, and they start all over. The writer has seen such a case, the victim having first been hit in the arm. Execution by beheading is not common now. Only a few cases of it having occurred here during our time, but we have seen many such during our stops at Fu-chow, 65 miles down river. Although more horrible to contemplate, death by beheading as practiced in China is decidedly preferable to death before the "firing squad." The Chinese executioner is certainly an expert at his job, for it seldom takes but one quick stroke to sever the head entirely, and this without loss of time or unnecessary preliminaries, once the execution ground is reached. However, execution by beheading is looked upon as a disgrace, and as a rule only exceptionally bad robbers are beheaded. As the Chinese believe it impossible for a man to gain admittance to the next world if he is headless, the family, or some friend of a victim of the headman's axe, visually pays the few cash necessary to engage a competent and experienced tailor to sew it back in place.
But to return to the city gates. All those affording access to the river are used by innumerable water coolies, each carrying across his shoulder a pole about six feet long with a large bucket on each end. All the water of the city, for whatever purpose, is supplied this way, for there is no other water supply system, and of course no drainage nor sewerage. There is a certain amount of natural drainage, but what of the sewerage, etc. that gets out of the city is also transported by coolies through the gates and down to the river, where, as might be expected, at certain times of day the odors are anything but inviting. With conditions like these, the narrow streets are always most unsanitary. In justice to Chung-king, though, it must be added that for Chinese streets the pavements be far above the average, and the streets proportionately very wide.
There are in the city a number of fine old temples, and to the native point of view many handsome residences. To the visitor these are not as a rule visible, for the Chinaman always surrounds his mansion with an enormous wall. Probably the real reason for this is the prevalence of robbers. The temples are practically all in a run-down condition, and like those in most parts of China, inspire little or no confidence in the present generation.
The governments of the United States, France, Great Britain, Japan, and Germany maintain consulates or vice-consulates at Chungking. Both Catholic and Protestant missions are to be found in Chungking; but aside from these and the maritime customs staff there are few foreigners there. A few firms retain European representatives, but most of them seem to depend upon Chinese agents.
The usual mode of conveyance is the sedan chair. The ordinary native chair has two bearers, but foreigners usually use four bearers. Comfortable chairs can be manufactured for about $10 to $20 (Mexican) each, depending upon the quality desired; and a team of four good coolies can be had for a total of $10 to $20 (Mexican) per month. Native ponies, too, are extensively used. It is impossible to get about any other way unless one walks, for the streets are continually crossing little rises and hills, and great stone stairways replace the paving stones of the streets at such places. This is not only true of Chungking, but of nearly all of Szechuan Province, and certainly of all the Szechuan cities I have ever seen. The way these dexterous little ponies scamper up and down the steps reminds one of the ease with which a goat would do the same thing in America. A pony trots up and down the steps with a man on his back apparently with no effort whatever. No road seems too bad for them, and no hill too steep.
Across the river from Chungking rise two ranges of hills. On these most of the foreigners have succeeded in leasing or buying enough room to build bungalows where the hot summer months may be spent. Most of these are attractively located and afford some excellent views of the river and the city. When one is reminded that in summer a temperature of 112 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade has been recorded down on the river, the necessity for the bungalows is at once apparent. On the second range the British naval authorities possess two unpretentious, but thoroughly practical, bungalows for their officers and men. Considering the country in which these up-river vessels cruise, the very limited field of pastimes open to enlisted men as well as to officers, not to mention the conditions that exist on a small gunboat during the very hot summer weather, it is a wise policy which allows the expenditure of the small sums necessary for the equipment and maintenance of such an establishment.
Just opposite the city of Chungking, and very conspicuous from the river, the British have built a naval canteen for their men. The building is perhaps one of the best in western China, and its equipment, although not elaborate, is good, sufficient and attractive. On the lower floor are two large reading rooms and a bar, while on the second floor are a billiard room and a dining-room where good food may be had at reasonable prices. The cellar and the attic furnish excellent storeroom spaces, and quantities of surplus stores of all kinds are kept here for the two gunboats which Great Britain retains in the upper river. The fire room forces of these vessels are natives, so that the crews of both British gunboats here do not contain as many white men as one of our vessels of the same class.
About one-half mile above the canteen the British have established a small, inexpensive, but thoroughly practical, workshop. It is equipped with forges, foundry, and sufficient machine tools to make their vessels here self-sustaining. At least one of the British gunboats now in Chungking has not been below Ichang for three years. For docking a stone grid has been laid out on the sand inside the little harbor of Lung-men-hao, and taking advantage of the several rises and falls of the river in spring, the vessels are docked and painted.
In the harbor of Lung-men-hao are the British gunboat moorings. These vessels not being in commission in the winters of 1914-1915 and 1915-1916, a mooring in here was assigned the Monocacy. On account of the great difference in summer and winter water levels separate moorings are required for the two seasons. When the water rises to 20 feet above the normal zero the summer moorings have to be taken up.
The total value of the trade passing through the maritime customs in 1914 was Haekwan Taels 37,632,208. Of this amount, T23,773,020 were imports, and the remainder exports. In 1915 the value of the trade was approximately 2,500,000 taels less than in 1914. Medicines, silk, wool, hides, bristles, and hemp, are the principal articles of export. The imports consist mostly of cotton and woolen goods, dyes, medicines, and illuminating oil.
There being no railroads in this part of China, and the country being extremely rugged and hilly, water communication with the outside world makes Chungking virtually the center of industry and finance for all the rich Szechuan country beyond the gorges. Many streams, affluents of the Yangtse, provide a means for marketing goods in Chungking. Roads, several feet wide, built above the rice paddies and cut into the sides of the hills, afford the only other means of communication between Chungking and the numerous towns and cities of this province of 40,000,000 or more souls. Vehicles on wheels cannot be used, and cargo or freight of whatever kind must be carried on coolies' backs. During the Monocacy's cruise in the upper river in 1914, 1915, and 1916, the brigands have been so bad that both trade and travel have been seriously interfered with. There are four or five small steamers that run between Ichang and Chungking from April until December, but their freight rates run very high, so most of the shipping is done by junks. The latter make the trip from Chungking to Ichang in five to eight days; but it takes them from one month to six weeks to make the trip up from Ichang. The risks, of course, are very great, and no insurance can be obtained.
The Peculiarities of the Upper Yangtse
Ichang, distant nearly 1000 miles from the sea, is but one 134 feet above the sea level, while Chungking, although only 358 miles above Ichang on the Yangtse, is 610 feet above the sea level. In other words, between these two places there is a difference in altitude of 410 feet, or a drop in the river of about 16 inches to the mile. The statement has often been made that as one journeys through the gorges the sensation of looking down hill is experienced when looking down river, and indeed it does not seem impossible that this is no mere optical delusion when the above facts are considered.
The incline of the river bed alone is sufficient to produce a strong current throughout the year, particularly if the irregular nature of the bottom is taken into consideration. Some of the reaches, more especially those in the big gorges, are very deep, many of them having been sounded to 70 fathoms, while an abundance of shoal places produces at different levels many varieties of races and rapids, not to mention the very important effects of the innumerable ribs of rock which are so conspicuous in the low water season. But these characteristics probably hold true more or less for all mountain streams, and after all, the upper Yangtse is nothing more than a big mountain stream. Szechuan is a very mountainous region, and may boast a large number of streams. Most of these are tributaries of the Yangtse, and possessing, as they do, the usual characteristics of mountain streams, they pour their torrents into their common drain with marvelous rapidity during the heavy summer rains, which sometimes continue for several days. At such times the volume of water is suddenly increased to several times the normal volume of the river, and at the narrow places in the gorges the volume becomes much greater than that which the cross-sectional area of the river at such places can normally handle. This partial blocking of the stream causes what amounts to a backing up of water. The current for hundreds of miles above the gorges runs at an abnormal rate, and the river rises rapidly. It is not unusual during these freshets for the river to rise at Chungking at an average rate of one foot an hour for a total rise of 50 or more feet. In August, 1905, a rise of 80 feet in less than three days was recorded, the Chungking watermark on this occasion reaching a height of 108 feet above the normal zero. Such a rise at Chungking produces an even greater rise at Kwei-chou-fu and at Wu-shan, the cities at the heads of the two largest gorges. A rise to the 100-foot mark is not unusual at these cities during the summer.
During these freshets the river becomes a raging torrent. The current at Chungking reaches a speed of eight knots or more, and the stream becomes a mass of seething water, full of swirls and dangerous whirlpools. At such times downward bound steam vessels proceed with their schedules as far as Kwei-fu. If the water is up around the 100-foot mark at this place the navigation of the gorges below becomes most dangerous, and should not be attempted except in cases of emergency. The violence of the swirls in the gorges is almost unbelievable. They travel at varying angles across the stream, and strike everything in their paths with such force that experienced river men never, of their own volition, take chances with them. Ordinarily it is wiser to tie up and await a fall in water of several feet, and this is the usual rule. So far it has not become necessary for the Monocacy to attempt the gorges at such a time; but in August, 1914, the writer had the good fortune to make the trip down river in the powerful new steamship Shu-hun (500 tons), when the river was dangerously high. The vessel lost a day at Kwei-fu waiting for the water to fall, and entered the Bellows Gorge early the following morning. It was a splendid, and to the uninitiated, an almost terrifying sight to behold. The great rocks, so conspicuous at low and middle water, were submerged, and the water, rushing on with incredible swiftness, swirled and foamed over them. Enormous swirls with vortices several feet deep seemed to form everywhere, and rotating rapidly would go charging athwart the stream to bring themselves up violently against a cliff, a projecting rock, perhaps, or the little Shu-hun. It was startling to see how they literally lifted the vessel, and would drop her two, three or more points off her course in spite of all that her captain and his crew of river veterans could do. Small wonder that full speed was rung up, and less wonder still that once safely through this gorge we moored to the bank and awaited a fall in water before attempting to negotiate the narrower gorges below Wushan.
Such rises as that described above are phenomenal, and may be expected only during the period beginning in the first half of July and ending in the first half of September. While from the very nature of things the swirls and whirlpools are worst during the freshets, the rapids, as previously pointed out, are not peculiar to any season. Rapids are caused by a convergence of the stream, thus forcing the volume of water, which passes a normal section of the river at a moderate current rate, to accelerate to such an extent that the same volume will pass a reduced section in the same time. The great volume of the river is forced in from both banks, and assumes the shape of a huge cambered tongue of water with breaking edges. This water, rushing through the narrows, impinges itself on the quieter waters below, and these become distorted and break up into a mass of swirls and back water, which form the approach. As a rule, rapids may be divided into two general classes, namely:
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- Those rapids formed by land slides, or formed just below the mouths of gullies which, when fresheting, eject stones, pebbles, and silt into the main stream, thus in time forming a bank which gradually partially blocks the flow of the stream and fills in the bed of the river to such an extent that there is a great difference in the depth of water in and below the rapid, and just above it; and
- Those rapids which are caused by a narrowing of the stream, and in which the depths are not appreciably different from the water immediately above them.
The Ye-tan is an excellent example of the first type. Here the great boulder bank extends out over halfway across the river, and the depth of water in the rapid is 8 to 10 feet less than it is just above it. This type of rapid is essentially a low or middle water rapid, for when the water rises, and the bank causing the rapid is well under cover, the added cross-sectional area is sufficient to take care of the additional volume of water, and a few swirls and whirlpools will probably be the only evidence of a ferocious low water rapid. These banks vary in height and in width. This, together with the fact that the rapid varies in strength and permanence, according to the difference in the level of the river above and just below the rapid, explains the reason why all rapids of this kind are not at their worst at the same standard watermark of the nearest port.
Of the second type probably the best example is the Hu-tan. At low water it is nothing, but as the river rises it increases proportionately in strength. Finally, as mentioned above, when the local watermark is about 60 feet above zero it is at its worst. The high rocky banks of this narrow stretch confine an enormous volume of water to this one passage, and conditions do not improve until the river rises still higher and overflows the walls of this rocky funnel, or falls sufficiently to readjust the relative cross-sectional areas in the rapid and just above it to figures more nearly the same.
Races are plentiful in the Yangtse, but to the steam vessel they present no special difficulties. The distinguishing feature between races and rapids is that races do not assume the form of a tongue. They are usually formed by shoals or reefs, and are most in evidence during the low water season.
Swirls are encountered at all water levels, but they do not assume dangerous proportions except at high water. They will always be found in the approach to rapids, but at normal water levels a veteran pilot knows just about how to expect them. The high water swirls present a different proposition. They are found to be worst in irregular rocky localities, or in reaches where the contour of the river banks is irregular. They are caused by the projection of many rocks which form small bays. The down-coming water drives into these with the full force of the current, and in so doing drives out against the current the water which was in these little bays. This latter strikes the main stream at an angle and assumes a circular form. If the force behind it is great it develops characteristics not unlike miniature storms. In high water these become violent, as pointed out above, and their vortices are often several feet deep. The running swirls, or oversets, known to the Chinese as pao-hsuen, are to be found, more or less, in all the turbulent reaches during high water. They are different from the ordinary swirl inasmuch as they appear to be volumes of water shot up from the bottom, which, upon reaching the surface, break into great "boils," and the whole mass of water sets rapidly in one direction or another. When the river is high and fresheting these are very conspicuous in the Bellows Gorge and in the Wushan Gorge. They constitute a decided menace to junk navigation. While only such swirls as those just mentioned attract any special attention, they are in reality very numerous in all the upper river. The strong waters impinge against the rocky banks, and innumerable small swirls, usually only a few inches in diameter, are formed. The presence of these is believed to account for the fact that no matter how hard the wind blows practically no waves are produced, and the surface of the water normally is smooth. The old adage, "It is an ill wind that blows no man good," applies forcibly in this case; for while the swirl at certain stages of the river is a menace to steam navigation, and while it takes a heavy toll of celestials every year, its "calming" effect upon the waters saves many disasters. Very strong winds frequently blow in the winter time, particularly so in the gorges. If these caused a sea which compared favorably with what a less violent wind will cause in the river below Ichang many disasters would occur, and an entirely different type of native boat would have to be used.
The whirlpools of the upper Yangtse are no different from the familiar type. They are not dangerous except at high water. They form where two streams join, or where a continuous and extensive back water joins with a portion of the main stream to form a great revolving circle of water. At high water the whirlpool formed at the junction of the Yangtse and the Kia-ling-Kiang is very dangerous. It is said in Chungking that junks of 70 tons displacement have been sucked down here, but this report has not been verified. One of the most troublesome whirlpools for junks is only a few miles below Fu-chow. On one side of the river is the down-going current, and on the other the back current, which on the surface appears to be almost as strong as the down-going. It is caused by the peculiar rock formations of this locality. It is not unusual for junks to spend a whole day trying to get out of this whirlpool.
Among the other dangers of the upper Yangtse are the fogs. The winter months, particularly November and December, are the worst times for these. They seem to be most prevalent between Kwei-fu and Ichang, though sufficiently bad above Wanhsien to stop all traffic at times. It would be sheer madness to attempt to run in the upper river during a fog; but in spite of all caution vessels are frequently caught by fogs in places where continuing on their way invites almost certain disaster, and mooring presents many dangers. The Yao-tsa-ho, for example, is most dangerous in this respect. The rocky winding river between Shih-pao-tsai and Chung-chou is also a bad place to be caught by a fog. During the time of the year that fogs are most prevalent a good general rule is not to get underway before ten in the morning if there is any chance of a fog shutting down.
Probably the one thing that causes the greatest anxiety for steamers at all seasons is the junk traffic. Certainly 75 per cent of the hairbreadth escapes of downward bound steamers are due to encountering downward bound junks in narrow channels, or in turbulent reaches. If there is imminent danger on account of junks ahead in a narrow channel, the best procedure is to turn around and head up stream until the channel is clear, and then proceed. Such cases are easily handled; but to encounter junks in long turbulent reaches, such as the Niu-kou reach, the Yao-tsa-ho, or in the gorges during rising middle water, or high water, is a different proposition. There can be but one hard and fast rule for the downward bound steamer under such conditions, and this is that some way, somehow, the steamer must keep clear. The cumbersome, unwieldy-looking junks are practically at the mercy of the current and swirls, which at any instant may throw them athwart the steamer's course, regardless of which side she chooses to pass on. The Chinese pilot usually knows the tendency of the swirls to set to right or left in any locality, but the river frequently fools the best of them. Probably the best procedure in such a case is to watch for a favorable opportunity and then put on all possible speed in order to pass the danger as quickly as possible. Under some circumstances it is safer to follow up a junk right astern, and then when fairly close up to him, make a break for the most favorable side and pass him as soon as possible. It is a wise precaution to always keep a couple of small semaphore flags on the bridge and, by waving one of these from the bridge end, indicate to the junk the direction you wish him to take. These observations, however, are quite general at best, for, after all, such cases resolve themselves into matters of judgment, decision, and prompt execution on the part of the skipper.
With conditions like those briefly described above, it is apparent that the methods employed differ somewhat from those ordinarily practiced in maritime ports and in deep-sea cruising. The upper Yangtse, in fact, may be said to have a seamanship, a river art, all its own. Anyone who witnesses the masterly handling of a small river steamer in one of the Yangtse rapids has abundant proof of this statement. Vessels do not anchor in the upper Yangtse— they moor. There are a variety of moorings with which the river skipper must be familiar, for not only do the conditions differ from place to place, but the conditions at the same place may vary considerably during a rise or fall of 20 feet or less. The best of the native pilots still retain a degree of their "junk" ideas, and this applies particularly to the question of mooring places. Experience has demonstrated, too, that in grave emergencies, such as a bad entry to a rapid, the Chinese pilot, figuratively speaking, "blows up." It therefore behooves him who would handle his vessel with intelligence, and indeed with safety, to make a study of the conditions before attempting the trip up from Ichang, no matter how good his pilot may be. An officer in command of a naval vessel should, upon approaching a mooring place, take the con himself, and assume direct charge of the mooring operation, asking, of course, his pilot's advice, learning all he can from his (the pilot's) experience, but using his own judgment regarding the details and their execution.
The confused mass of turbulent water, made up principally of swirls and back water, which is encountered more or less at the foot of every rapid comprises what is termed the approach. Although alike in many respects, approaches have their individual peculiarities. It may safely be said that owing to the difficulty in bringing a vessel through the swirls and up to the rapid point the approach presents dangers equally as great to the steamer as does the rapid itself. Most approaches have a right and a wrong side. In many cases one side may be foul, and in many others the strong down-coming currents set up swirls and eddies which set directly onto the rocky banks. This is shown in the diagram, Fig. 4.
The method which we usually employ upon approaching a strong rapid is about as follows: Notify engine rooms and fire rooms about 15 minutes before the rapid is to be steamed, and tell them about what speed will be required. When the rapid is in sight, size up the situation, and give engine rooms and fire rooms such additional information as seems advisable. For example, it often happens that upon approaching a rapid it is apparent that full speed will not be needed; or that nothing above 300 R.P.M. will be required; or that all possible speed will be required, etc. When entering- the approach the engine rooms are usually given a "stand-by" signal. The vessel is carefully piloted through the approach just in the swirly broken water between the tongue and the back water. As the point of entering the rapid is approached full speed is rung up. Great care and skill, which only long experience can give, are necessary here in order to avoid the back water, and at the same time keep clear of the strong down-coming current until the vessel is as near as practicable to the rapid point. Then she is eased over into the rapid so as to meet the rush of water as nearly head-on as possible. Once in the tongue the confusion and noise of the water, so characteristic of the approach, ceases and the vessel steams her utmost in the smooth swift waters of the tongue. In the meantime we watch with more or less anxiety (its degree depending upon the strength of the rapid) ranges which we pick up on shore to note whether or not the ship loses her headway. In the Monocacy the first "full speed" signal is answered by speeding up the engines to 300 R.P.M. Then, when the vessel has entered the tongue, if she fails to forge ahead, full speed is rung up once more, and the engines are forced to 325 R.P.M. If this fails to get her over the top of the rapid, a third full speed is rung up, and the engines are given full boiler pressure. The two points on either bank which form the rapid are known as the rapid points. Where the approach will safely permit, the best practice sanctions entering the rapid as close as practicable to the rapid point farthest up river. Then if, when the vessel enters the rapid, she keeps the current slightly on her near shore bow she goes slowly across toward the rapid point on the opposite side. If this rapid point is slightly below that of the entering side, and if the vessel has not lost too much ground in crossing over, she will, upon reaching the opposite bank, be above the rapid point on that side, and consequently over the worst part of the rapid. Where the rapid points are about opposite each other crossing over will seldom be of much benefit, and rapids so formed are frequently unsteamable for vessels of less than 14 knots speed. In strong rapids the Monocacy usually loses all but the least perceptible speed over the ground, but only once in the writer's experience have ranges indicated that she was losing ground. Then gradually, as the vessel nears the opposite bank, having weathered the rapid point on that side, or as she bucks her way right into the teeth of it, the top of the rapid is made, and an increase in speed is at once apparent. A moment later normal cruising speed—usually about 260 R.P.M.—is resumed, and the rapid lies behind us. Usually full speed is not required for more than 10 minutes at a time.
The greatest care must be exercised upon entering a rapid. A sheer over so as to get the down-coming currents well on one bow means almost certain disaster. The diagrams shown under Figs. 5 and 6 are self-explanatory. A sheer out of the narrow neutral zone of swirly water which lies between the tongue and the back water will throw the bow into the tongue and the stern into the back water. A strong force is exerted on the bow, and the effect of back water renders the rudders useless. The bow is thrown violently athwart the rapid by the down-coming waters, and the effect of the back water is to push the stern up stream. If a vessel gets into such a predicament, the only course to follow is to back full speed immediately and put rudders amidships. Then if the river dragon smiles upon you, and your vessel's bow is not smashed into the rocks on the opposite side of the river at the foot of the rapid, watch for a favorable opportunity to straighten out, heading either up river or down river, taking advantage of whichever way the swirls happen to throw your vessel. A British gunboat had a narrow escape at the Niu-kou-tan in just such a manner. She took a sheer, and before her engines could take effect she had been swept down and across the river, and her bow was smashed into the rocks. A German gunboat had a similar experience at the Pao-tse-tan; and several other vessels have had narrow escapes.
So far it has never become necessary for the Monocacy to get out a wire to assist her over a rapid. As this evolution forms an important part in river seamanship its omission is not believed advisable. Captain S. C. Plant, river inspector for the upper Yangtse, has very kindly authorized the following description and attendant figure. On account of his vast experience in this kind of work, his remarks on the subject may be considered authoritative:
When there is a doubt as to whether or not the vessel will be able to steam the rapid the wire hawser should be laid out beforehand, because in many instances it is both dangerous and difficult to back out of a rapid after once having entered it…It is when the vessel is in the tongue that the hawser (if necessary) must be got on board. In order to accomplish this it is necessary to edge the ship as close into the point as her draft will permit, so that a boat (already stationed there) can put off to the steamer with the line by which means the end of the wire hawser is brought on board. To get the hawser on board, taut, and fair leading, is generally very troublesome, especially when the vessel's draft is more than three to four feet, and when the nature of the rapid necessitates a very long stretch of wire. The difficulty is to keep it from fouling submerged rocks and boulders, and care should be taken to buoy it at intervals, where practicable, with sampans, which can be cast off as the wire becomes taut and leading ahead.
Perhaps everyone who comes to the upper Yangtse wonders why vessels designed specially for this work are not built with greater power. In the first place there are practical limits to length and draft, and since these largely limit tonnage, they govern the weight of machinery which can be installed. A merchant vessel, which will run only in the high and middle water seasons, may safely have a length of 200 feet of a little more; but a gunboat, which in emergencies may be required to take her chances with the river at any stage of the water, should not be over 175 feet long. There are many tortuous channels at low water, and some of the turns are very sharp. Furthermore, at all levels a good pilot usually hugs the favorable bank as closely as he safely can so as to avoid as much strong water as possible. With the more or less irregular banks, and the many small bays which offer perhaps a little back water (and the up-river pilot always takes advantage of them), a very varied course is steered. All up-river vessels are necessarily equipped with two to four rudders in multiple. Consequently, when the helm is put over five or ten degrees the stern is literally pushed to one side. This introduces another element of danger. The best native pilot (and there are no foreign pilots) knows considerably more about junks than he does about steamers, and the up-river junk is steered mostly by a long, cumbersome-looking steering oar, which runs straight out ahead. They average about 60 to 75 feet in length. The result is that when he has been educated up to steamer work he often fails to bear in mind the characteristic noted above, and pilots the ship as if she had only one end. As might be expected, a number of vessels have had narrow escapes due to their sterns having "side-swiped" the rocks. At least one foreign gunboat was damaged by an accident of this kind. The writer has on two occasions had to make a quick shift of helm in order to avoid almost certain collision in this way.
In the low water of winter soundings of five feet may be obtained before the rapids are bad enough to make navigation impracticable. Also in the approach to rapids, even in summer, the bank will be skirted very closely so as to get as near up as possible to the "rapid point" before entering and, in this way, soundings of six or seven feet are obtainable. A river steamer's draft must, of course, be limited primarily by the depth of water in which she will steam; but for an up-river vessel the characteristics of the water through which she must steam also form an important consideration. The most efficient type of vessel is that employing a spoon-shaped bow, the effect of which is to present a smooth, rounded, and as nearly horizontal surface as possible to the water. The greater the draft the greater the angle of the spoon-bow to the horizontal. A proportionate increase in resistance results, and a draft of more than four and one-half to five feet will counteract the benefits of an otherwise excellent bow design. The idea of the spoon-bow is to reduce to a minimum the effects of sudden strong currents which are encountered at a slight angle to the vessel's course. By presenting a fairly smooth, well-inclined surface to the rush of the current instead of a sharp stem with the ordinary bow lines, steering is greatly facilitated and the strain on the vessel greatly reduced, due primarily to its tendency to ride up and over the new force. If the water be strong and swirly and the vessel of light draft and good general design its effect will not cause any particular worry, because the water really has no chance to "get a hold" on the vessel. Take, for example, the navy standard design 21-foot motor dory, with which the Monocacy was originally equipped, and the specially designed motor sampan, with which she is now equipped. The former gave excellent service in the lower river, and upon arrival in Chungking it was hoisted out and put into service; but not for long. After one or two trips to the shore had been attempted with this boat we considered ourselves lucky that no serious accident had occurred, and put it out of use permanently. On the other hand, the motor sampan, of practically the same length as the motor dory, takes races and rapids and goes straight through a swirl that would throw the motor dory eight points off' her course. To anyone familiar with the Yangtse Kiang sampan, with its flat curved bow and its light draft, the analogy between such a craft and the well-designed river steamer is obvious. The steamer's frames and plates must be of the lightest possible material consistent with the required strength. Machinery must be light and high powered. In fact, lightness combined with maximum strength should preponderate over all other considerations. In order that the propellers may not increase the draft they should work in tunnels, and should be able to drive the vessel, without undue forcing, at 14 knots. The spoon bow and the tunneled flat bottom of the modern light steamer are eloquent tributes to the craft of the river men as evidenced in the original ideas so conspicuous in their small boats. Considering these facts, it is no wonder that until comparatively recently vessels suitable for such waters have not been built.
Moorings in the upper Yangtse may for convenience be divided into two general classes, namely: (1) Those in which anchors are not used; and (2) those in which one or more anchors are used. For mooring purposes all vessels should be equipped with two sampans of the native type, and a crew of natives should be employed to operate them. The Monocacy has two such boats, and employs five experienced river men. High-grade, flexible galvanized steel wire line, one and one-half inches or two inches in circumference, depending upon the circumstances, is also an essential part of the equipment. It should be carried on portable reels, at least one length of which should contain not less than 150 fathoms. Mooring pegs four feet long and three inches in diameter, mauls for driving the pegs, and coir line, furnish the other essentials. Mooring in bays of quiet, slack, or back water, should be avoided unless the locality is well known. Such places look most tempting; but in many instances rocks or ledges of reef lurk a foot or so beneath the surface, and give no evidence of their whereabouts. It is a good general rule to moor only in places where there is sufficient down-stream current to give some indication of submerged rocks near the surface. In unfamiliar localities it is best to select a mooring place well before dark and tie up securely for the night. The Chinese pilot is prone to run on, if it suits him, until twilight, and then present you with the proposition of making fast at dusk at a poor mooring place. Almost surely your lines will foul submerged rocks, the ship will yaw all out of your calculations, and you will find yourself wishing you had tied up at some good place, probably only a few miles back.
Assume first a mooring place on the port bow where the current is slow from ahead, the bottom and the beach sandy. Forward in a convenient position a reel of one and one-half inch wire has been placed, and a light boom, with a tail snatch-block rigged, has been lashed to a stanchion about 30 feet from the bow. The wire is rove through the snatch-block, and the snatch-block is then hauled up to the top of the extension boom so that it is as high as practicable above the water. About 15 to 20 fathoms of the wire are unreeled and coiled down on the deck, under and over fashion so as to not kink. Steam is gotten on the anchor engine, stern anchor is made ready for going over the side, stern lines are in readiness and, other preparations being completed, the vessel is ready for mooring. About one-half to one-quarter mile below the mooring, speed is reduced to one-third, and sampans are manned. When the vessel has lost sufficient headway to permit it, sampans are lowered, the port one hauling quickly forward and taking on board the coil of wire and the "peg party." This latter consists of three men equipped with two wooden mauls and usually four to six pegs. The starboard sampan in the meantime drops back on the quarter, takes stern anchor on board and awaits orders. When abreast the mooring place, and when the vessel is the proper distance off shore, let go the starboard anchor and shove off port sampan with the peg party and wire. The lead of this wire being through the elevated snatch-block, it is paved out carefully from the deck, and kept out of contact with the water as long as possible. In this way the sampan is usually fairly close to the shore before it has to work against the force exerted by the current on the wire. Having landed well up on the bow, the peg party takes the wire ahead until told to make fast. One peg is driven, a turn taken with the wire and the ship signaled to that effect. Meanwhile chain has been veered, and by using the rudders the vessel has eased closer in shore. The snatch-block is lowered away, the wire given a fair lead and taken to the capstan, and a strain gradually taken. When the vessel has gone astern sufficiently to get the anchor bearing properly on the bow, the stern anchor is taken out, probably 30 to 50 feet, and let go. A bow and stern breast, a spring from forward, and an additional double lead of wire on the bow, with double pegs, complete the mooring. In case the stern is found to be in back water—a frequent occurrence—the stern anchor is let go from deck so as to keep the stern from swinging too close in shore.
Variations from this are moorings made in slack water, when the vessel should be backed full speed until sufficient chain is veered and the stern anchor let go; and moorings where rocks or trees may be used for making fast the mooring lines. It sometimes happens, too, that even with an anchor down a vessel moors close to a steep bank. In this case mooring poles, of the type described below, are used to shore the vessel off.
There are many mooring places in the upper Yangtse where it is not practicable to let go an anchor. For example, the writer has, on several occasions, found it necessary to moor in the big gorges, or in some rocky reach where letting go an anchor would have meant its certain loss, and a complication in an evolution which otherwise might be considered fairly simple. In the gorges the water is too deep to even consider the use of an anchor, and in numerous other localities rocks and boulders abound in such quantity that the recovery of an anchor would be too much to hope for. In such places vessels moor to the bank by using lines and mooring poles. The lines employed are the same as those described above. The poles are usually of some tough, well-seasoned native wood, and are about 30 feet in length. Every up-river vessel should be equipped with at least three of these. When underway two such poles, one aft and one forward, should always be ready for instant use.
Assume a mooring place on the starboard side, located in a deep, rocky gorge, with broken, uneven shore line, and an in-shore current of two knots, vessel bound up river. Prepare wire on starboard side exactly as described above for use with anchor moorings. Lay poles athwart-ships, one forward and one aft, and rig two small tackles from each pole-head, leading at an angle of about 30 degrees, to eye-bolts forward and aft of the pole and well outboard. Approach the mooring with only enough speed to insure good control. Lower starboard sampan, haul forward, and transfer the wire and men composing peg party to it. Work the ship a little above the point where sampan has instructions to land and as close in shore as safe handling will permit. Shove off sampan, paying out wire with great care, taking pains not to unnecessarily impede the progress of the sampan and at the same time keeping the wire clear of the water as long as practicable. Meanwhile stop the off-shore (in this case, port) engine, and allow the current to force the vessel slowly astern against the power of the slow-running- in-shore (starboard) engine, thus insuring perfect control of the vessel. Continue to handle the vessel in this way, increasing or decreasing the speed a little as may be necessary, but keeping the vessel in the desired locality until the wire has been made fast to some previously designated rock. Take the wire to the capstan, and having worked the vessel abreast the position where it is desired to moor her, gradually take a strain. The greatest importance is attached to the lead of this wire. If it is led from too far forward the head of the vessel is pulled in shore as soon as a strain is taken. When the Monocacy first came up river there was no alternative but to lead a wire of this kind from too far forward. As a result we considered ourselves lucky, when making such a mooring in the Wushan Gorge, that the vessel did not suffer serious injury, when, in spite of all efforts, the ragged rocks finally came in contact with her at the turn of the bilge. A heavy eye-bolt has now been installed on each side at frame 15, about 30 feet from the bow. Under conditions similar to those described above the vessel can be (and has been) worked in shore or off shore under perfect control. Using the rudders, capstan, and engines, the vessel is now worked slowly in shore, care being taken not to give her a decided sheer either way. The order is then given to "point the poles," and they are shoved out 12 or 15 feet over the side, the head tackles being tautened up so as to control them. Quartermasters having graduated sounding poles and stationed forward and aft give warning as the vessel slowly comes in toward the bank, and if a sounding of less than 12 feet is found it is best to "out poles" and hold her off until the water all along the ship's side can be sounded for rocks, which might be only a foot or so under cover. Meanwhile breast lines have been run ashore forward and aft, and a spring or quarter-line gotten out as a precautionary measure in case of a slight back water close in shore. Let the vessel come well in, if there is sufficient water. Then when all lines are made fast and the poles well set, breast out 12 or 15 feet from the bank and tauten up the moor. As a precautionary measure, the line on the bow should be doubled before engines are secured. To get underway from this mooring, the bow line should be singled, and all other lines taken in. Breast well off with poles, but if possible breast the bow out a little more than the stern. Give the vessel a little left rudder, and ease the bow line slightly. This allows the current to catch the vessel on the in-shore bow. As soon as she eases out sufficiently to take the strain off the poles take them in. Then with the vessel headed slightly off shore, ease rudders amidships and ring up one-third speed. When the stern is clear of the rocks the party ashore may be ordered to cast off the bow line. Straighten the vessel out with engines and rudders, and handle her in this position until the bow line is aboard, the shore party returned, and the boat clear of the water.
While as a general rule absence from the larger units for any length of time is hardly advisable for a naval officer, there can be no doubt that experiences of a most valuable character may be had in these waters. To anyone, whether he be landsman or seaman, the upper Yangtse is most interesting; but to one accustomed to large ships and to the methods of deep water, the attractions of this wonderful stream may easily become a fascination, the charms of which are so great that they outweigh in importance the discomforts that one must endure, the risks one must necessarily incur, and the region in which one must exist.