[Editor: This is the preface for the novel The Coloured Conquest (1904) by “Rata” (Thomas Richard Roydhouse).]
June, 1913.
“You are the last Britisher, practically” (a prolonged puff at the cigarette), “and you cannot expect to live for ever” (another big puff). “Why not write the whole story of how the Black, Brown, and Yellow races swallowed up the White?”
The Japanese sitting upon the office table lazily swinging his legs to and fro, his black, beady eyes gleaming on me, lit another cigarette whilst waiting for a reply.
There was none.
I sat gazing at my desk unseeingly, my brain absorbed in numbed contemplation of the incidents of recent years.
“Buck up, old chap!” continued my companion, giving a tilt to his smart naval cap; “dig yourself out of the past so that you may ‘write it up,’ as you call it.”
Still I did not reply.
“Perhaps you say to yourself: ‘Why should I write, seeing there is no one to read, I being the last Britisher — the last free Britisher? Well, I don’t know. But it might be a relief to you to write the story. What?”
“A relief? Yes, perhaps. But I might as well peg out and have done with it! The last of a dishonored race!”
“Ah, well, it was so fated, you know. The day of the Caucasian has passed — they used to be often asking ‘Is the Caucasian played out?’ y’ know — and the ‘brisk little brown men,’ as your Sydney papers called us when our squadron paid a friendly visit to Australia just before we went to war with Russia, now rules in his place. That was 1903 — this is 1913. A pretty considerable change in ten years, eh? You are thinking of that. What?”
“Of that — and other things.”
“H’m-m (thoughtful puff), your mind often careers over the events of the past ten years. I think I can understand.”
He rolled and lit another cigarette with easy grace.
“You remember how the world stood aghast when we crushed tyrannical Russia? Didn’t we crumple her up? What? Yes, you remember that. That was the beginning. Ah, it was good!”
He paused in proud contemplation of a chain of events that had ended in placing, not only Australasia, but the whole world in the control of the long-despised Coloured peoples.
I was reluctant to discuss these events with him, though I had often done so, for Captain Taksuma Moto had been a good friend to me, even though his race had degraded mine, reducing the men to serfdom and the women — to worse.
My heart was sick within me this day, and I would have preferred solitude, but Taksuma would prattle on. The pride of the conqueror was in him, and he loved to fight his battles over again, even though his friend — the one white man at liberty on the whole globe at that moment — writhed.
“It was quick work after that,” he continued, reminiscently, talking more to his cigarette than to me. “Russia, crushed and China awakened and armed. Ah! China awakened and armed; there you have the whole thing! Then Russia occupied by a Mongolian force under Japanese leaders! Ah! that was something like a world’s sensation! You remember what the British papers said about it, eh?”
He paused and looked at me for a reply.
I nodded mechanically.
“Then the disclosure of an understanding between all the Coloured peoples — a goodly list; wait while I call the roll —
1. The race of barbarians with a thin veneer of civilization, as the Russian sneeringly termed us.
2. The millions of India and Persia.
3. The then mysterious and powerful Menelik of Abyssinia.
4. The Kaffirs, Basutos, and others of South Africa, who had all watched the triumph of the Japanese over the Russian, and gloried over the downfall of the arrogant white man.
5. The eight millions of negroes in North America.”
“The Britishers, at least, treated coloured people with consideration,” I found myself saying.
“Yes — some of the British; but what of the insolent low-caste population of Australia who ruled the Parliaments of that country and won our enmity, and the enmity of the people of India, and indeed of all Coloured peoples, by not only shutting their gates against us, but” — his face was demoniacal now — “by referring to us as though we were dogs!
“Who are now the beasts of burthen? The Whites! Who work as our slaves the wide world over? — The Whites! The women (those not in the harems) in the factories, the men in the mines doing all the laborious work, leaving only the intellectual tasks to the Coloured peoples? The Whites!
“Who debauched our women, not only in Japan, but in the northern parts of Australia, before the rising of the great Eastern tidal wave? The Whites! But what of their women?”
He was quite carried away now.
His eyes flamed.
He gesticulated fiercely, yet triumphantly.
“What of their women, oh, friend Danton? Write all about that — don’t forget that part of the lovely business — when you are preparing your book.
“Put down how we thought out a fitting revenge for all the slights put upon Coloured peoples — mind you, I don’t think the Japanese can fairly be called coloured, though they were always lumped in as such by the Europeans. A match please, friend Danton.”
I handed him one, and he continued —
“Write how we arranged that the White race should be wiped out.
“Write how it was decided that nine-tenths of the white men should never see the women of their race again.
“Write how it was decided that the other tenth of the white men, picked out for their physical attractions, should be wedded to a similar number of the most beautiful of the women of the white races, under certain conditions.
“Don’t forget the conditions, friend Danton!
“Why, I believe I could write the book for you!”
“Write it, damn you!” I said, but without spirit — that had been crushed long ago by the terrible experiences I had been through.
He only laughed and repeated his irritating “Buck up, friend Danton!” Then he switched on to his main theme again:—
“The conditions,” he chuckled, are very interesting! The selected white couples, you will write, are kept in villages closely guarded. The men and women have no choice of partners, the Chief Magistrate of the province, aided by an expert board or committee, decides all that!”
He laughed.
Time was when I would have struck him for that laugh — when I had done so, in fact; but I had long since passed that stage. Now I seemed to possess no more emotion than a ring-barked tree, standing gaunt and lonely in an Australian paddock.
“You will write, friend Danton,” — a contented puff — “that health and beauty combined are the deciding characteristics of the couples, and that only the fairest-complexioned men are selected. Of course no details must be overlooked in your account!”
I writhed. I had been directly interested in one selection of a special couple, and when it was made I knew that the final blow had fallen upon my peace, and that I had only a living hell to look forward to.
“For ten years these selected white couples are together,” he continued, “and the treatment of their offspring — as you will write it — is one of the most interesting features of the new regime. Another match, my dear old chappie!”
He affected the style and speech of the “Johnnie” with whom he had come in contact at English colleges and on English warships, before the Coloured uprising had overwhelmed the White world.
“When a child is born to one of these especially selected white couples,” continued Taksuma, “it is taken away (after two years) to the State Creche; you have a note of that, of course! The mother may weep — oh, yes! — and the father curse — let him! — but the beautiful babe is taken nevertheless; the boy to be trained for some form of work for his masters — his coloured masters, dear old chappie; — and the girl to be brought up for the — ah! — harem of some highly placed personage.”
I ground my teeth. Words that fitted the situation I had none to offer.
“Everything like that must be worked in to make your account complete. But there, forgive me, old boy, I know I have touched a tender spot? The devil had hold of me for a bit, and I couldn’t help a fiendish gloat! I know I am a ‘bounder’ to treat a pal so. However, buck up! Come and have a tiddley.”
It was no use protesting or “making a fuss.” I had done that often enough, but it was like running one’s head against a brick wall.
The situation I had long since declared unendurable, yet I was enduring it.
I could not take my own life, and death would not come for the asking. So I was forced to live to witness the degradation of my people — I, the only “free” white man in all the world, now under the sway of the Coloured races, with Japan at the head and the controlling factor.
“But about the book — write it, old man,” said Taksuma, as he helped me to soda. “The Mikado wants your account, as a record from the white man’s point of view of the great happenings of the first portion of the Twentieth Century. It is to go into the Japanese archives.
“It will be something for you to do, and you might as well be writing as thinking and not writing. But bear in mind that, from the jump, it was all a matter of number of warships and guns, and the men behind the guns!
“China’s real awakening, and the speedy building in Japanese and Chinese docks (with Chinese money!) of thirty battleships and a proportionate number of cruisers and torpedo destroyers, and the training of the Chinese (already aflame with the Japanese success) and the directing of them against Russia, settled the destiny of the world.
“A big issue to be settled with bits of floating steel, eh? — and the men behind the guns, of course.”
We spoke for a little time about it, and when the jaunty little naval captain left me I had decided that I would write down all I knew of the events that had transformed the world, reduced the proud White races to slavery, and placed the wand of power in the hands of the Dark peoples.
Source:
Rata, The Coloured Conquest, Sydney (NSW): N.S.W. Bookstall Co., 1904, pp. [i]-[viii]
Editor’s notes:
Australasia = Australia and New Zealand; in a wider context, it can refer to Australia, New Guinea, New Zealand, and neighboring islands
bounder = a dishonourable man, a man with low morals, a man who displays objectionable or offensive social behaviour, a man who behaves in a socially unacceptable or unpleasant manner (especially with ladies), a man who behaves in a morally reprehensible manner, a cad
burthen = an archaic spelling of “burden”
chappie = (also spelt “chappy”) man, bloke, chap, fellow; a diminutive form of “chap” (derived from chapman, meaning “customer” or “dealer” in 16th century English)
from the jump = from the start, from the beginning, from the get-go, from the outset
Johnnie = (also spelt “Johnny”) a well-to-do or posh male (especially one educated in a British public school, i.e. a British private school); a young man, from an aristocratic background, who is idle, unproductive, or who lacks meaningful purpose in life; a smart young man about town
See: “johnny n.”, Green’s Dictionary of Slang (see entry: 2c)
peg out = to die
tiddley = (also spelt “tiddly”) an alcoholic drink; also may refer to being slightly drunk, tipsy (possibly derived from “tiddlywink”, a slang term for an unlicensed public house, or pub)
what = an exclamatory remark used at the end of a sentence or after a sentence, e.g. “I say, what?!” (possibly derived from the word “what” as used in exclamatory phrases, e.g. “What the blue blazes?!”, “What the deuce?!”, “What the devil?!”, “What the dickins?!”, “What the hell?!”); an affirmative remark used at the end of a sentence or after a sentence, e.g. “He’s a damned good chappie, what?!”
See: “what? phr.”, Green’s Dictionary of Slang (see entries: 1 and 3)
y’ = a contraction of “you”, “ya”, or “ye” (the latter two words meaning “you”), e.g. “y’ know” (“you know”)
[Editor: Changed “The Women” to “The women”.]
Leave a Reply