Ocean Devil by James MacManus

Author:James MacManus [James MacManus ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007362592
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-03-29T04:00:00+00:00

On one occasion, to escape a Japanese advance and to save a vital piece of machinery, Hogg swallowed his principles and hired a rickshaw. The combined weight of a hefty Englishman and a big machine part proved too much for the puller, ‘the most rabbity, most freckled, most weedy, most bandy-legged little man that ever ran between shafts. A missionary I met on the road said that he was an opium addict.’

Thus began a three-day journey in which the odd couple struggled to preserve their precious cargo and stay ahead of the enemy troops and out of sight of their planes. Despite the desperate nature of their journey, Hogg turned it into a rare comic interlude in his book. With enemy troops close behind and occasionally visible on their flank, Hogg decided to take turns with his rabbit-faced rickshaw-puller, whom he named Bunny.

From his point of view the arrangement was physically all that could be desired but he feared above all the jeers and sneers of his peers along the road. For this reason he gave me his big wide hat to pull down over my face as I ran and spread a filthy towel over his own so that for a time we got on fine as a mystery craft paying no attention to friendly calls or invitations to pull up and drink a cup of tea. Catching site of an old crony sitting in front of a teashop, Bunny’s faith in his disguise suddenly vanished: ‘Let me pull now let me pull you must be tired, rest a little,’ he shouted, struggling frantically up the cart. Immediately the whole village turned to stare and covered us both with confusion by their ribaldry.

We kept on, threading our way magically past all other vehicles on the highway. Bunny would never voluntarily relinquish his place, but after pulling what he considered to be a fair distance he wandered discreetly off the road to make water, and always feigned great surprise when he found me waiting between the shafts on his return.

It was amazing how easily the cart moved on its rubber tyres. The load is arranged so that the shafts press slightly upwards. As soon as the coolie puts his weight on them it moves forward and at the same time takes his own weight off his feet, so that on a level road he can average faster than walking pace with very little effort.

Out on the road it was sunny and devil-may-care. Mule-men cracked their whips, and the teams of great mules – the one animal in creation that really likes to work – snorted majestically along.

Lines of handcarts with furniture and rickshas with city evacuees trotted by in single file. Donkeys tripped from village to village taking country misses, dressed all in spotted silk trousers and cart wheeled silk smocks, to visit their relations.

For a few moments a wide flight of bombers cast its shadow over us; then we emerged from the ditch like rabbits, to forget them. Five hours later we found Nanyang still in flames.

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