[Editor: This is a chapter from the novel The Coloured Conquest (1904) by “Rata” (Thomas Richard Roydhouse).]
Chapter VI.
I endeavour to warn the people of Australia but fail. — Mabel Graham tells me something.
I returned to Australia in due course. The day after I arrived this cablegram from South Africa appeared in the Sydney Press:—
AFRICA FOR THE AFRICANS.
“The emissaries of Dinzulu, the paramount chief of the Zulus, are co-operating with the American Ethiopian Church in trying to incite the natives of South Africa to a general revolt.”
That was followed by this one, a few days later:—
“During the recent disarmament in the Northern Transvaal the Kaffirs only surrendered obsolete weapons.
“Their modern rifles they concealed and retained.
“The published statements as to the unrest amongst the natives are by no means exaggerated.”
Upon the above a Sydney paper wrote the following:—
“THE DANGER IN SOUTH AFRICA.”
“Signs and portents are not wanting in South Africa to show that troubles are brewing compared with which the jealousies of the British and Dutch residents may fade into insignificance. Our cable messages yesterday contained an announcement that the Kaffirs in the Northern Transvaal had been surrendering only their obsolete weapons in the disarmament of the natives which was recently undertaken, and that the reports which have been published of unrest among the native races have not been exaggerated. The grim possibility of a war of extermination being fought in South Africa between the White and the Black races is one which lies like a dark shadow behind the far less momentous issue as to British or Dutch supremacy. ‘Africa for the Black Africans’ is a rallying cry under which some dusky Caesar yet unborn may lead his legions against the White intruders from Europe and try to sweep them, Dutch and British alike, into oblivion. This is no fanciful danger. It was one which presented itself very vividly to the late Mr. Cecil Rhodes, and it is now fully explained and elucidated by Mr. Roderick Jones, the South African editor of Reuter’s Agency, in an informing article in the Nineteenth Century.”
“Very interesting,” said the average Sydneyite, with a yawn; “but who is going to win the football match?”
Only South Africa was supposed to be concerned. No one appeared even to dream of the fact that the supremacy of the White race as a whole was threatened by the long despised Black, Brown, and Yellow peoples.
I never ceased endeavouring to awaken my fellow-citizens to a sense of their peril, and always availed myself of every opportunity of urging that our contribution to the Imperial Navy should be two or three millions a year instead of £240,000 for the whole Commonwealth.
“An invincible British Navy is our only safeguard,” I pointed out.
“No matter what our local defences are, if the Navy is crushed our hours of independence are numbered.
“Let us do the fair thing and pay a proper proportion of the cost of increasing and maintaining the Imperial Navy on a footing that must secure her success in any war — that will, in fact, actually prevent war, by making all the Powers recognise that it would be hopeless to attempt to crush her.”
But the result of my efforts was not flattering.
I even founded a society to promulgate my views — the British Navy League being an inert, dead-and-alive body at that time — and succeeded in forming branches of the Australian Defence Society in many towns. But there was no Press support, so far as the daily papers were concerned.
One condemned me as “hysterical,” and another considered “that Australia was doing all that could be expected and saw no occasion for alarming the people.”
So they all drowsed on.
* * *
The war between Russia and Japan ended in due course, and the anti-defence section was stronger than ever in opposing enlarged contributions to the Imperial Navy.
“Our Citizen Soldiery” it was said, “can defend Australia. See what the Boers did.”
The facts that the conditions were dissimilar, and that, anyhow, the Boers were crushed in the end, in spite of the poor generalship (for the most part) and undue generosity of the British, were ignored.
Japan, they pointed out, had not benefited in pocket by the war, and would take years to recover from the enormous expenditure it had necessitated.
She had not been allowed to take one inch of Chinese territory — a conference of the Powers had determined that — though she held Korea as the British held Egypt, under a sort of protectorate.
“Japan will be helpless for years,” declared our sapient anti-defence section, “while as to Russia, Japan has kindly put her out of the reckoning, so far as we are concerned, for a generation.”
But I held quite a different view about Japan. It was true that the war tax was heavy, but the people were able to pay it, and did pay it cheerfully. They thought what had been secured was worth the price. They stood in the front rank of nations, and feared no single Western Power.
“In five years,” wrote Tuksuma to me, “we will fear no combination.
“You will see Japan’s Navy increase five-fold within that time. You may ask how is that to be done with a Treasury depleted by war; but let me tell you this — though the Navy will be Japan’s, all the people of the East will contribute to the building. ‘Why?’ you ask. It may be that they are proud of Japan for beating an arrogant White nation. It may be that they look into the future.”
I knew what he meant.
The Japanese Navy, as it was, was most formidable; stronger, thanks to their capture of Russian ships, than it was before the war. Moreover, it was the only Navy in the world manned and officered by those with actual experience of modern naval warfare. True, the Russians had had experience, but it was not of the sort that nations covet.
Then again, the Japanese, quite as patriotic as before, were even more convinced of their invincibility. Japan had proved itself the equal of any Western Power; in fact, as one of the native Japanese papers, published in Yokohama, pointed out, history stamped it as superior.
“No nation in the world can show a record equal to that of Japan,” wrote the paper. “Never has a nation of the size and population attacked a giant like Russia and overthrown it. Japan not only overthrew the giant, but did it in record time. England herself could not have done so well.”
“The Japanese men-o’-warsmen and soldiers give themselves up in a whole-souled way to their duties, and this cannot be said of the men-o’-warsmen and soldiers of any other nation. It accounts for Japan’s success, and will account for more success in the near future.
“There is much prize money to be won by our brave fellows, and new countries to be opened up to the energies of our agriculturists, manufacturers and commercial men.
“Within a decade Japan must lead the world.”
I felt that the Fuji, the paper quoted, was right, and that without a great counteracting effort the prediction hazarded so unreservedly would be fulfilled.
I did not expect any counteracting effort so far as Australia or the British Empire as a whole was concerned; nevertheless I conceived it to be my duty to go on endeavoring to open the eyes of the people, and to that end I read the extract from the Fuji to a meeting of the Australian Defence Society.
One Sydney paper reported the meeting under the heading, “Another Attempt to Raise the Japanese Bogey,” and made some comments on “Mr. Danton’s persistent foolishness,” while the other deprecated “these continued attempts to frighten the people of Australia into contributing more largely for defence purposes.”
* * *
I was addressing a ladies’ branch of the Australian Defence Society one night in 1907, dwelling upon the possibility of a Japanese occupation of Australia and what would follow, when my glance rested on a face I knew. It was that of Mabel Graham, and I saw that she was deeply interested in what I was saying.
I had never spoken to her since our estrangement. Yet something prompted me that night, and as the meeting filed out I manoeuvred to get near her party.
I caught her eye, and seemed to read pleading in it. All hesitation passed away, and I was quite satisfied of my reception when I addressed the usual formal salutation to her. We did not discuss personal affairs, but the subject of the evening.
And then she told me of Major Yoko’s letter, and I told her what I knew of it. Naturally she was surprised.
I related all that had passed between Sunotoko and myself in South Africa. When I had concluded she rested her hand on my arm — the action was apparently involuntary — and said:
“Mr. Danton, I want you to promise me something.”
I was silent, though in my heart I said “anything.”
“You are thinking,” she said, “of the buttonhole incident. I would have you make closer inquiries. You will find that I did nothing wrong. But that will keep. What I have to say will not.”
I looked up at her. Her face was flushed; her eyes starry; her bosom heaved with excitement.
“I have long wanted to speak to you,” she said, “but feared you might misunderstand my motive. Now, however, that you have spoken to me I must tell you what is on my mind.”
I bowed, but was still silent.
“There was something more in Major Yoko’s letter.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
She paused, seemingly finding it difficult to proceed.
“What was it?”
“A threat against you.”
I laughed.
“Why, that is of no consequence. He could not threaten to do more than he mentioned in the Hotel Australia — to drain my heart’s blood.”
And again I laughed.
“Don’t do that,” she said; you don’t know what he said in his letter. You don’t know the sort of man he is.”
‘‘Well, what did he say?”
I treated the matter lightly, as I saw she was much disturbed, and I desired to relieve her alarm.
“He said this — I can remember every word:— ‘I have sworn to Buddha to wet my knife in Danton’s blood. It is now my duty. The vow binds me — will bind me to the death. I cannot die until I have killed Danton. My service to the Empire should stand first, but consideration of my sullied honor commands precedence.’”
“Was that all the scoundrel said?” I asked, laughingly.
“He — there were a few other words — underlined — following.”
“Well, what were they? You should not keep back any part now, you know.”
I was still speaking lightly. There was nothing new in the threat. And, anyhow, Major Yoko was thousands of miles away.
Miss Graham still found the situation difficult. Presently she said slowly: “The other words were, ‘Prepare to weep!’”
“Prepare to weep!” I repeated. “What for?”
“I — I — suppose he thought I should mind.”
Her head dropped. She began to dig holes in the footpath with her parachute.
“Oh, he thought you would mind? And — er — would you?”
That was all I could get out. The sort of remark that a schoolboy in love would make under similar circumstances.
She did not reply, but the heaving of her bosom increased.
Then suddenly it came to me that there was no need to wait for a reply.
A wave of feeling surged over me, and the next I knew a deliciously palpitating form was resting in my arms.
* * *
When I was indulging in a “nightcap” two hours later my thoughts reverted to Major Yoko and his threat. But, so far from being depressed, I laughed outright, and indulged in the reprehensible habit of talking to myself.
“Major Yoko,” I said, “I forgive you a lot for the favor you have done me to-night, but, by the hokey, if you ever come at me with intent I’ll crack your jaw for you as sure as ——”
Failing a good simile I left it at that.
Source:
Rata, The Coloured Conquest, Sydney (NSW): N.S.W. Bookstall Co., 1904, pp. 43-51
Editor’s notes:
Caesar = a leader, especially an imperial leader (derived from the title of the Roman emperors; whilst the title was applied to all Roman emperors, it is sometimes used to specifically refer to the first holder of the title, Julius Caesar)
Hotel Australia = the Australia Hotel, also known as the Hotel Australia, a hotel in Castlereagh Street, Sydney (NSW), which was opened in 1891, and closed in 1971; at the time of its construction, and for a long time afterwards, it was regarded as the top hotel in Australia (a different Hotel Australia was built in Melbourne in 1939, and was demolished in 1989)
See: 1) “Hotel Australia”, Dictionary of Sydney, 2008
2) “The Australia Hotel”, Wikipedia
3) “Hotel Australia”, Wikipedia
men-o’-warsmen = sailors on men-o’-war (a man-o’-war, or man-of-war, is a sailing ship designed or outfitted for combat, a naval fighting ship equipped with cannons and powered by sails; plural: men-o’-war, men-of-war)
nightcap = an alcoholic drink imbibed prior to going to bed at night
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