ONE OF OUR FORMER EMPLOYEES, a Christian man who used to be in the printing shop, was now riding a bicycle to pull a "pedi-cab". A pedi-cab is a ricksha, generally made wide enough for two persons to sit side-by-side, and pulled by a man on a bicycle. These were not used in Shanghai until the war, but after the buses were taken off the streets, and traffic became almost impossible, these pedi-cabs sprang up like mushrooms, and they earned good money, but it was very hard work. So as this brother was pulling a pedi-cab we arranged with him to be at the house in the early morning of March 15th, and to bring another cab with him. There was no danger of him failing us; he was not that kind. We were up early, trying to get the last things stowed away, for we fully expected that anything that might be left would be looted. But long before we had finished this bit of work, our Chinese friends arrived from all quarters to bid us farewell. They had delicious refreshments for us, but these seemed to choke us, and after very real and earnest prayer, we packed ourselves into the pedi-cabs and started for the Cathedral grounds, where we had been ordered to assemble. We had as much hand-baggage as we could possibly carry, for it was only the hand-baggage that had any certainty of arriving: very much of the heavy baggage was looted on the way to the Camp. We met others coming from all directions in every kind of conveyance. Each of us was tagged, and of course we all wore red arm-bands with a big "B" on it, although there were three of our number with an "A",-American wives of British husbands. The tag had a Chinese character on it, "Ing" for "English", if British, and "Mei" if American; and a number by which hereafter we would be known.
We were supposed to give up the keys of our house at the Cathedral gate, but I forgot mine, and I hope have it still. Our dear brother who brought us down saw us as far as the gate, and helped us with our baggage, but indignantly refused to accept a cent for the service he had so graciously rendered. The One who does not forget a cup of cold water given in His Name, will not forget that loving act.
It was cold, and people's nerves were on edge. One old friend of mine, Lady —, was weeping. I had known her in the days when she was very wealthy, and now she had lost everything. A present of even an egg had been thankfully accepted in the months previous to this day. Yes, she had been very wealthy in this world's goods, but had no treasure in Heaven, where thieves do not break through and steal. Some ladies had thoughtfully provided hot coffee for us, and how thankfully we received it, while waiting for the word to start.
A number of old friends came to the fence (they were not allowed in the grounds) for a last farewell. Mr. C.'s brother was there with a gift of $100, an odor of a very sweet smell, a sacrifice especially acceptable, and peculiarly well-pleasing to God; for I think it was the first public confession he had made as to whose side he was on: and it was exceedingly refreshing to our hearts. He was in Heaven when we returned. We had arrived early, and I slipped in to say goodbye to our dear friend in the Japanese Navy, as his rooms were quite close by.
We were all divided into groups, according to the numbers on our tags; this did instead of a name from this time forward. In time came the order to start; and I wish you could have seen us. Quite a few had brought Chinese bamboo carrying poles, and had their baggage swing at each end, the way the coolies do. In other cases where there were two able-bodied persons in a family, the pole was carried between them, and a great load swung from it: bedding, suitcases, rubber-boots, water-pails, and everything you can imagine. The head of a large firm of Chartered Accountants in Shanghai, had bought a child's "pram" and loaded it up with their belongings, and wheeled it along in comfort. He afterward sold it in the Camp to the father of one of the few babies to arrive there. Being a Canadian, I carried my load in true Canadian style, with a tump line round my forehead, made up from the strap of a nice little canvas dunnage bag which our good Canadian friend, M. W., had given me just before he had to leave for Camp.
We marched down Kiukiang Road, thickly lined with sympathizing friends and Chinese who had the courage to show their sympathy. Some even stepped out into the road to help the aged and infirm, or the ladies, with loads which were far too heavy for them, and which they never should have had to carry. An angry Japanese sentry would drive such an one back, but two more would dash in and take his place.
So we reached The Bund, and the friendly crowds could come no further; each of us had to bear his own burden, and stumble along as best he could. The tender was tied up at The Customs Jetty, and we made our way onboard, waiting for it to take us out to a ship lying at anchor in the river. The Japanese arranged we should go to Camp in this particular way in order to humiliate us before the Chinese; but the effect was quite different to what they had expected.
We had a lunch-basket with several thermos bottles in it, a large and perfectly delicious cake from dear Mrs. L., a beloved Chinese widow; there was a big tin of biscuits from Mrs. N., wife of our landlord when first we came to Shanghai. That tin afterward became a most valued water-pail. And besides, there was bread, and those other things we used to think necessary to make up a lunch. In addition there were two tiny plants, in the smallest of pots. The cat had broken them off in the sunroom, one a red geranium and the other a scented geranium. The rest of the plants my wife had taken to an old Chinese man who kept a greenhouse, and was a special friend of our children.
We got safely on the tender with our baggage stowed away, when a fellow-traveler climbed on the rail, and feeling herself very clever, took a flying leap and landed with both feet in our lunch-basket. She made a witty remark about it as she climbed out, and we found that through the Lord's goodness she had only broken one of our thermos flasks. We were deeply thankful, as they were almost a necessity, and refills soon cost $1,200 each.
We reached the ship without further mishap, and were herded onboard. Most of us slept on sort of shelves which completely filled the stern, like ordinary third class Chinese accommodation; but some of the older ladies were given real berths. On account of her age, my wife was offered one of these, but decided to stick close by me.
We had not been onboard long when we were ordered to surrender our passports. This was a bitter blow, but we had no choice. We had been advised to bring as much money as possible with us, in order to purchase supplies at the "Camp Canteen" which the Japanese authorities were going to provide. Many, in their innocence, had done as they were advised. Mercifully we had not much money to bring. When the passports had been gathered in, the next step was to report exactly how much money we each had in our possession. We realized then what the next step would be, but there was no help for it. So we were prepared for the blow when the Japanese took all our money, giving us a credit at the Canteen instead.
We arrived onboard about noon, but it was almost evening before we weighed anchor and started for the Yangtze River, and thence up to Chinkiang, where the Grand Canal crosses it. It was a treat to be on the river again. My wife had had some five years shut up in Shanghai, and though I had had the trip to Kunming and back, still the strain of the last two or three years had been very great, and to turn away from it even in such a manner as this, brought a measure of relief, I think, to each of the three of us.
We reached Chinkiang next morning, and about ten o'clock we transferred the baggage to barges that were ready to start up the Grand Canal. It was perhaps noon when we started. The weather was lovely, and I think most of us enjoyed the trip. It was late afternoon when we reached Yangchow, and then we were all lined up, two and two, with as much baggage as we could conveniently carry (a much more merciful arrangement than at Shanghai), and marched under guard through the narrow Chinese streets to the grounds of the American Church Mission. On the way my sister managed to slip a letter addressed to Tien Chei in Chinese characters, to a shop keeper, with a dollar bill as an inducement to post it. This he did, and Tien Chei had the satisfaction of knowing we had arrived safely. We did not know then that this would be the last time we would walk those streets for two and a half years.
The balance of the baggage was brought in by Chinese wheelbarrows, while we were collected (some 200 of us) in front of the verandah of "Government House", and the Camp Commandant gave us a long address in Japanese, which was intended to impress us very much. Before he began he announced that there should be no smoking while this ceremony proceeded. Alas, he had not gone far when he spied a little thread of smoke arising in one of the back rows. His face looked like a thunder cloud, and in ominous tones he commanded that the culprit should be brought forward. It turned out to be a miserable, scared girl. We wondered if she was to be shot or beheaded on the spot, but after a terrible warning that in future there must be implicit obedience to every command of the Camp Commandant, the young lady returned to her place a sadder and a wiser girl.
When the speech was finally ended a summary of it in English was read to us. We were told that the Japanese had brought us here to protect us, and that now it was our "happy home" and we had better not try and leave it, as the guards had orders to shoot to kill anybody who might make such an effort.
Then everyone was compelled to sign a paper saying he would not complain about anything. It was quietly pointed out as we signed that a signature made under compulsion was not valid; and I rather fear that the signatures recorded that day did not hinder most people expressing their minds as to conditions in the camp when they felt like doing so.
Two days before, the first consignment of people for this camp had arrived, also a group of about 200. They knew we were coming, and most kindly had saved enough boiling water from their own slender allowance to give us each a cup of tea. How welcome that was!
We saw, piled in the middle of a small field in front of the houses, a mountain of great packages, enormous bundles of beds and bedding, and huge boxes. This was our "Heavy Baggage" that had come on ahead of us, and later we had the joy of trying to find our own belongings in this bewildering mass. There was also a great room, which had been the gymnasium of the school, which was filled with the trunks.
The speech being over, we had a long wait, and then queued up for room allotments. Our room was a long, dark north room with one window looking out on a rather dark court. We inwardly groaned at the prospect: but tried to face it cheerfully. We had just got our lighter baggage stowed away here, when a message came from the billeting table to report there immediately. We were told we had been moved to another room. Would it be better or worse? How thankfully we found it better, much better! It was a corner room facing South and East, and had three windows. It was not a large room, but eight of us were crowded into it; four families; each of us had a corner. However, we thankfully began getting our baggage collected, and soon started to try and transform our corner into something like a little "home". As you can guess, in a company where the large proportion were women and children, our efforts were often interrupted with requests to carry somebody's trunks up or downstairs, or help undo some great bundle of beds; but in the course of a few days things really began to take shape. No nails were allowed in the walls, which made it much more difficult; however, we got ropes stretched across the room, and some improvised curtains put up, that gave a suspicion of privacy.
Our trunks were piled in the passageway downstairs, for there was absolutely no room for them where we were; and the first night my sister's trunk was pretty thoroughly looted, and a good many of her much needed clothes taken, together with a good share of our precious supplies. But some people lost very much more than we did, and it was a case of "Take joyfully the spoiling of your goods.”
The light and air of this room made it one of the pleasantest in Camp, even in spite of the crowded conditions. Our companions were really a most interesting collection. Next to us was a man of the sea, a Captain I think, and his charming wife. On our other side was a Jewish man and wife; he was rather a well-known business man in Shanghai, owner of a flourishing shop on Nanking Road. He was nearer seventy than sixty, pleasant and very easy to get on with, but he had a somewhat eccentric wife who had turned Christian (and I believe she was a true Christian; I had known her a long time in Shanghai). She was one who was calculated to teach her husband and her friends much patience. The other man in our room was a very gifted missionary, almost blind, "modern" in his beliefs, with a charming little wife who was a true Christian. The room was, I suppose, fifteen, or possibly sixteen, feet square, so you can guess (or, probably you can not guess), what a problem it was to fit in.
The first night I suggested that as we were all companions in distress, I had no doubt they would be glad if I were to read my evening chapter aloud, and proceeded to do so. I am afraid this so terribly frightened our seafaring neighbor, that he took no chance of such a thing happening again, and next day got moved to other quarters. But we became, and remained, good friends all the time we were in Camp.
My sister had been sent to live in the "Ladies' Dormitory". This was a huge upstairs room with more than sixty ladies of every kind and age and description. It was quite impossible for her to have a moment of quiet for reading or study or prayer, and the outlook for a long stretch of life under such conditions was dark enough. To add to her troubles, when we got her bed unpacked, we found we had brought the wrong bed-ends for her spring, and it would not fit together. There was nothing for it, but to try and tie it up with rope, but even so, and after being fitted with quite orthodox "sway-bracing", it still swayed in a most alarming fashion whenever she ventured to make use of it.
Two days after we arrived, the final group, another two hundred, arrived in the pouring rain, on a cold miserable day. Wet to the skin, they straggled in loaded down with their hand baggage, which was, like themselves, soaked with a long journey and no proper protection. They were herded into the old school chapel, which now served as a dining room, and they went through, in their wet clothes, what we had endured in the sunshine.