Page:Ports of the world - Canton (1920).djvu/28

 astonishingly—from the bass of the deep-chested mountaineer on the rail of a near-by junk, to the screechy, nerve-rending falsetto of the angry Chinese woman in the fuel-laden sampan, as she beats her son. The sampan, it appears, has just escaped being rammed by a junk under full canvas, and the unfortunate son is blamed for the near collision.

The monotonous singsong of Chinese voices is silenced for the moment by a sudden outburst from the native sailors on a funeral boat anchored near the shore. The crew evidently believes the only way to mourn the dead is by constant, persistent, never-ending lamentations. Very shortly the uproar is augmented by the dashing together of great cymbals. The inquisitive passengers on the steamer are informed that the crew is frightening away evil spirits, who thrive on quiet, and who, if left in peace, might bring harm to the bodies of the dead on board the funeral boats.

A questionable whiff from another funeral boat, hard by the bank farther up the stream, is responsible for a question. The traveler hears, by way of reply, that some of the dead have been on the boat for five or six months. They will remain there until the time is auspicious for burial.

Each of the funeral boats seems to be trying to outdo the others in making the welkin ring. The din soon grows so deafening that the traveler half expects to see the dead arise and poke their heads above the lacquered sides of their coffins on the deck of the funeral boat.

Across the river from Canton the traveler sees the cities of Wati and Honan, where he will view many sights almost as strange as those in Canton if he chooses to spare the time necessary for a visit in the two suburban districts: but, as a rule, the majority of strangers find Canton so indescribably fascinating that they hesitate to roam through the neighboring sections in search of attractions, which must indubitably prove less interesting than those of Canton.

The ship passes more funeral boats, more junks and sampans, and now and then the passengers see small fishing boats rowed by native women, who dip nets into the muddy waters of the river and cry out