Page:Ports of the world - Canton (1920).djvu/32



An occidental fist is doubled. It falls upon an oriental chin. And if the air were filled with shouts and yells a moment ago, it is now flooded with the same. The men passengers prepare to light to the last gasp for the women and children—their hearts being filled with the same ardor possessed by the berserkers of old who, it is said, had quite a reputation for bravery in their time.

It is a battle for life, apparently. The travelers appeal to the ship's officers who endeavor to make themselves heard above the uproar. But the exercise of so many vocal organs has temporarily crippled the sense of hearing, and the officers' words go all unheeded by their charges.

Another occidental fist is doubled, and its possessor (a grim, red-faced man resembling a traveling salesman) uses it to such good advantage that another oriental is tumbled over, but is less fortunate than the first, inasmuch as he sails head over heels into the river and is fished out by a screaming fisher woman who volleys curses on the heads of the excitable "foreign devils."

The score is now two to nothing, the occidentals being in the lead, and further casualties are in the offing, when a short breathing spell enables the now hoarse ship's officers to make themselves heard to the passengers.