CRIME AND MYSTERY.

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 116, 17 May 1924, Page 19

CRIME AND MYSTERY.

THE DOCK'S DARK SECRETS.

WHERE THE DOPE FIENDS ARE. Flotsam and Jetsam London's Flowery Land Lethe and Nepenthe Do White Girls Go?— The Vicious Knives—Chinese Tentacles — The Treacly Juice—Limehouse Nights.

Who can say how many are the unsolved mysteries of life connected with the brown and yellow men who swarm around the great docks of this country. In some cities tliry have mapped out lor themselves their own territory as it were—Dingle, in Liverpool, where the yellow men swnrm, and Cathedral Road, Cardiff, where a veritable Chinatown has sprung up. These colonists retain their own characteristics: they are "iv" the midst of the white people but not "of" them. When, ns often happens, the while women form alliances with the coloured men, strange happenings result, requiring the pen of the realist to depict. London's docks have a well-defined "Flowery Lat.il." Just a triangular scrap of territory, stretching from the spire of Limehouse Church to the West India Dock, and bordered by Jamaica Road. Huddled together in a maze of squalid decay are men of every colour, shade, caste and creed. Along tbe pathways of the narrow streets which crazily thread the district, broad, biglimbed Scandinavians rub shoulders with scantily-clad Lascars, Malays and swarthy Kanakas from the South Pacific, while almond-eyed Orientals lounge listlessly in the doorways of mean, closely-shuttered, foul-smelling shops. By day a feeble attempt is maintained to display some outward semblance of commercial activity, but a glance into the heavily-curtained, dark-chambered places of business will not disclose any marked signs of industry. For the most part, the clients of these dinghy dives are asleep and lost to the world, until the craving to smoke the deceitful poppy-juice galvanises their racked limbs into movement, and darkness has made it safe to venture abroad, and so avoid any undesirable attention. Lure to White Girls. As one turns from the busy main thoroughfare which links London with the West, even the atmosphere seems to change. Penetrate further, and the sense of strangeness becomes more insistent and gripping. Weirdly garbed Asiatics scurry along, and fez and turban dominate. Across the road stands the Strangers' Home for Lascars, Africans and South Sea Islanders. A motley group of dark-skinned natives of the East block the steps leading to the entrance, chattering incessantly. One, a little pole beneath his tawny colour, supports himself with a crutch, and is apparently unburdening himself of a tale of misfortune. From the arched windows of the area of the building, a smell of spice and rice ascends, clogging the air with its sickly odour. On each side of the road, ship-chandlers' shops flaunt their wares. Gaudily-coloured handkerct'-fs, vicious-looking knives, and a miscellaneous variety of articles are displayed in the windows, while fluttering in the breeze, and, suspended from every nook and cranny of the shop fronts, are oilskins, sou'-weßters, thigh boots and blue dyed "dongaree suits." As day gives place to night the highcoloured by-ways of the district become more animated. Black, brown, yellow and white pass in procession, but it is the yellow faces which are more frequently encountered. Occasionally, a young English girl, arm-in-arm with a Chinaman, pauses to look in a shop window, or enter a restaurant where Chop Sucy and Noodles can be consumed at a modest price. Sometimes it is a coal-black face with thick, coarse lips, that looks smilingly down Into the eyes of the girl. Yellow Tentacles Spreading. Venture Into Limehouse Causeway and China prqper is reached. True, the varying fortunes of doc__and have caused the yellow residents to spread their tentacles over to High Street, Poplar, aud even farther afield, but the main sphere of the Celestials' clutch is still centred in the Causeway. All the doors are open, but, in most cases, the rooms fronting tho street are bare and poorly lighted. In one, a young Chinaman sprawls on a bench behind the door. In his hands he holds a book printed in coloured characters, and he is singing in a high-pitched, quecrly intonated voice. A pungent, heavy aroma mingles with the smell of cooking. Others squat on the floor and listen. Sounds of footsteps can be heard overhead, for the carpetless floors make the slightest sound audible to those beneath. One glance is sufficient for a Chinaman ti take the measure of a stranger. Either he is Inquisitive, or he seeks a supply of opium, or, as the men from the Orient know it, "hop." If he is a smoker of the treacly juice of the poppy, his face will disclose the fact. A bluish pallor will mark his countenance, and his cheek bones will show signs of elongation.

If there is any opium to be had he will be given a small quantity in a little mustard tin, for which he must pay an extortionate price. If the intruder is simply actuated by a desire to see what lies beyond the shuttered window, his reception will not err on the side of cordiality. Let him linger unbidden, and a knife wiU whizz through the air, hurled by an unseen hand. In these days of opium famine, the tempters of the denizens of the Causeway are inclined to sharpness. Very little crude opium finds its way to East London, owing to the vigilance of the police, but occasionally precious parcels are brought by hand from Liverpool and Cardiff. This knowledge Is soon circulated amongst the victims of the habit, and, within an hour, the supply is exhausted. Once in a while a coolie from a liner succeeds in smuggling a small package out of the docks nnd is richly rewarded for his skill in outwitting the authorities, but such successes are rarer than the drug dealers of the Causeway desire. Consequently, elaborate plans arc needed to ensure regular consignments. To minimise risks of loss, a one-pound tin will be split up into four or five separate portions, and entrusted to different messengers so that capture will not involve complete loss of the valuable drug. Crime and Commerce. The older dealers n«ve sought pastures new Heavy fines nnd deportations thinned their ranks, and, latterly, the risks have proved greater than the gains. One of the last of the older school to give up the trade was old man Chance. His shop in the Causeway was known to opium smokers . throughout the world. Discreet clients were permitted to indulge in a game of "fan tan," or woo fortune by Playing Chinese Lottery. Now, the greyhaired Cantonese with the talon-like fingers, has returned to the land of his fathers and left the hazards of a doomed trade to younger and more wary compatriots, Who

combine crime and commerce with a faculty that makes it difficult for them to be detected. 11l the hands of the dock police are many letters, written iv strange tongues, which, when translated, -resolve themselves into appeals for news of some Lascar or Oriental who has failed to return after reaching London. When inquiries nre possible, the results arc invariably the same.' The man was last seen in Limehousc Causeway—and there the matter ends. Strange tales are told of Chinatown in the East End of London—and, for that matter, of any Asiatic colony iv our midst. Some time ago a beautiful English girl was missed from her home in London. Eventually she was traced to Limehouse and found in the house of an old Chinaman. Her mind was a perfect blank. She had been dressed up in gorgeous Chinese garments and well-tended—in fact, had been worshipped as a sort of goddess. But how she came there she could not say. No action could be taken against the yellow man, for he stuck to the story that the girl had walked into his place exhausted and hungry, and he had cared for her. What mysterious story lay behind all this is not likely to be ever fully revealed. "The Flowery Land" by dockslde Is redolent with a smell and "atmosphere" entirely its own. It defies description, but, once smelt, is not likely to be forgotten.