In Korea, on Friday the 13th.

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 206, 19 November 1927, Page 24 (Supplement)

In Korea, on Friday the 13th.

(Written for THE SUN by

HE fact that the 13th of the month fell on a Friday would have been sufficient to put a Christian fisherman on his guard, but the

Koreans, being Shintoists, or Buddhists, heedlessly set out on their day’s work.

We were a mere handful of passengers on the. Yeiko Maru, trading between Tientsin and Kobe, and all had gone well till the eventful date. A choppy sea provided me with a good excuse to cut out breakfast and to lie abed a while, when, in the middle of my pleasant musings came a knock at my cabin. “We’re trying to save a junk. Don’t you want to see?” A coat and rug sufficed for the moment, and I hastened up on deck to find two Koreans straining every muscle to make fast their little boat to our steamer —which they eventually did at our stern. Fate, however, was unkind, and with the smashing of their rudder, they were forced to abandon their craft and to board ours. Soon the captain announced that he must put in to Kyobunto (Kyobun Island), to make a report of the incident and return the men to their home. We Europeans, at my suggestion, had collected a sum, small in itself, but almost sufficient to buy another boat for these, who so suddenly were deprived of the means of livelihood. An hour or two saw us at Port Hamilton, so called because an English general of that name was buried there. The captain and purser landed in an official capacity, and we decided to explore, despite the torrential rain. With us came the shipwrecked ones, an elderly man and a youth. Our first goal was the Court and Customs House. We found there the parents of the rescued youth, who, with many low bows (a special one for me as prime mover in the collection of money), expressed their profound gratitude. After signing a document, we two passengers were allowed to wander, but not unaccompanied. Oh no! Your Japanese official (for Korea is well guarded by that capable Government) is much too suspicious of strangers, and everywhere we went, a customs clerk followed, his excuse being that I, at

MELANIE PRIMMER

any rate, needed the shelter of his enormous umbrella. Also I think, he was anxious to impress the villagers with his English—which we found decidedly scanty. “Big Road,” he said, pointing impressively up and down the pathway, which was composed entirely of irregularly-broken boulders. As this is the only thoroughfare in Port Hamilton, I take it that he meant “Main Road.” It evidently served the poor and scanty population well enough, for fishing is their one industry.

Presently I felt a gentle pull at my arm, and, turning, found that a Korean woman was inviting us to her home. We left our shoes at the door, and l was motioned to -what is called in China a k’ang, a sort of platform, where the family dines, sleeps or amuses itself, and guests repose. Our escort, now an interpreter, swelled with importance, and while he puffed and strutted, I took a more leisurely survey of my novel surroundings. These Koreans seem to be a cross between the Chinese and Japanese, though not of the best type, for in neither country would such dirty ragged clothing be tolerated. Married women wear the hair in a curious style, a thick plait wound in a knob over the right ear. Rows of thick

wooden clogs stood by the door, for the room-mats must be keixt spotless. The domestic hearth is a neat ar.rangement. It looks like a wooden chest, handsomely bound with brass, and with drawers at the bottom. The middle of the chest is squared out and lined with metal and on it is a small brazier for charcoal, the only fuel used. A diminutive kettle sings here comfortably all day long, and provides sufficient water for the tiny drinking-bowls, which are little larger than eggeups. In these we were offered a kind of Turkish coffee, the hostess and a few privileged friends joining in. Custom ordained that I should sit with my toes tucked under me, a painful process for freedomloving limbs, and presently I was allowed to dangle them oveP the front of the k’ang.

By this time the room was not only filled, but in a state of gentle excitement, each self-invited guest looking at her neighbour, pointing to her nose, and nodding at me. “They’re surprised at the size of mine,” I said to my companion, for in comparison with the Eastern button (one can call it nothing else), mine certainly stood out well, albeit not big according to our notions. “No, very nice, very nice,” the customs official hastily assured me. Then, seeing that I was not offended, all those who could possibly reach me came and stroked my protuberant nose! The Chinese had often told me that my high bridge was considered a mark of beauty, so somewhat prepared, I sat there solemnly during the whole ceremony, my companion having great trouble in keeping back his laughter. Then came the usual question as to age, husband, and children. ... In a short while courteous adieux of deep hows released us, and we splashed our way back to the Court House. Here we were doomed to shiver for nearly an hour, as the official report was still unfinished. Once again the old parents appeared, this time laden with gifts, a huge box of delicious fish for the passengers, rolls of cotton crepe for the crew—crepe being the universal wear for Japanese men and women—and, I think, sandals for the officers. Anyhow the next morning, the captain and purser appeared in most elegant ones. Not to be outdone, the Government representative handed me what must be a unique official document. It is on a scrap of flimsy paper, and reads thus: “I don’t know how to express my sincere gratitude for your kindness to the victims, Kyobunto Island,” and is duly stamped in English and Japanese.