Evening star., 1923-07-22

VIE STEAMER during tne nlSHt
descended from Saigon to the
sea, crossed a short strip of
ocean to the mouth OF the
Mekong, and at daybreak was crawl
Ing slowly up a wide. turbid river
The poet and ] sat in the midst OF
our fellow steerase passengers and
scratched mosquito bites-or some
kind of bites.
The Asiastics were already awake
drinking their morning tea with an
excess of gurgling enjoyment, OF
squatting upon their bare heels about
the family rice-bowls, into which a
dozen OF them would dig their chop
sticks or their fingers. all at the
same time, in perfect amity.
For nearly an hour we watched d
them with disdain and disgust. Then
becoming hungry ourselves, and
realizing that in the excitement OF
ply ourselves with provisions. we
hailed steward from the first-class
cabin. offered him several brass pen
MES and requested him to bring us
sandwich. He replied in pigeon
French or petit negre. as the French
call it-that his pantry contained no
sandwiches. Well, then, was there
any bread? Yes. there was bread
And was there any meat? Yes, there
was meat. Then, we explained, il he
would put slice of meat between
two slices of bread, it would serve
just as well as sandwich. Having
made this idea clear to his far-east-
ern mind. which, despite it's shrewd-
ness. was neither original nor in
veutive, We finally sat down upon the
deck and ate our sandwiches, while
several Annamite infants romped
across our laps, and the adult popu- :
lation of the steerage crowded about
to inspect our operations with the
usual ill-mannered curiosity of ORR
entails.
THE sight of two prosperous-lookins
i white men in immaculate cloth
ing. but sitting upon the deck like
natives. was one that called for much
speculation. ..@ { = =
The Asiatic was familiar with only
two types of white men-the dressed
up individual who rode in Tikishas.
lived at the best hotels, travelled
first-class and strutted about like the
lords of the universe. and the unmis-
taxable buns, who dressed shabbily,
and hung about the seaports to beg
aims from their more fortunate fell
lows-and we, who dressed like the
Il yota H. l1,,y,, A.
fed classification.
They gathered about US in a
swarm, the whole two hundred of
them, while amateur humorists
among them made comments and
suggestions in chorus of grunts
and whining noises which seemed to
provoke much shrill laughter. One
fellow in particular appeared to be
especially witty. He was a fat,
round-faced Chinaman, evidently
professional story-teller or a come
dian from some local opera company.
dressed in a flowing robe that hung
to his feet like a skirt. He stood be-
side me, pointing to me and reciting
something in sing-song chant in so
ludicrous manner that I might have
enjoyed it myself had i not been the
object of his ridicule.
But, like any other white man,
however lowly his temporary station
in life. I resented being laughed at
by yellow man. For some moments
I checked my rising anger. trying to
eat my sandwich with dignity, but
when at length, at the climax of his
recital, the comedian lifted my sum
helmet from my head, my resentment
boiled over. Leaping to my feet, 1
seized him by the folds of fat skin
that bulged from his neck, and start
ed toward the rail, with some vague
intention of feeding him to the alli-
gators or whatever creatures hap
pened to inhabit the brown tropical
river.
A vast commotion arose. A dozen
other Cinnamon or Annamites rushed
to the comedians assistance and tore
him from my grasp. The poet shout
ed in French for help. while I seized
the first available weapon, which
happened to be somebody's rice bowl,
and backed up against the mast in
self defense. But a firm hand seized
me by the shoulder. white hand,
and l turned to look into the face of
the French captain, who had spoken
so abruptly to us the night before.
x x X X
TTERE, L thought. was the end of
i my ridiculous ss-country
journey; 1 saw myself returned un-
der arrest to Saigon. to be handed
over to the American consul and
shipped ignominiously homeward up
on the first Shipping Board vessel to
touch at the Indo- Chinese capital.
The captains voice, however, was
this time friendly:
Monsieur" he said, should not
remain here. 1t is not good for white
prestige. I shall put monsieur and
s..s companion in a first-class state
room"
Accepting the social promotion, we
seated ourselves in deck chairs upon
the forward deck, again beginning to
feel like a pair of wealthy tourists.
OF the scenery or the incidents of
tho voyage, the poet took little note.
nor had he ever jotted down his i'm
preston of Saigon. Notes, he main
tained, served only to restrict the
free play of an authors Imagination.
Moreover. he had discovered, so he
said, that it was easier to buy books
or magazine articles in English or
French, translate them into Italian
h.