A VISIT TO MOUSE

Evening Star, Issue 22631, 24 April 1937, Page 2

A VISIT TO MOUSE

by A. H. MJLintock, for the ‘ Evening Star.’]

Ever since reading Thomas Burke’s ? Limehouse Nights ’ I had determined to see - that spot, if fate decreed 1 / should visit, /London., It is a district associated 1 sinister* tales of opium dens, gambling hells, Chinatown at its worst—a weirdj unfahiiliar, and foreign corner " ■ of , mighty London, shunned' alike, by police and. respectability. But times have changed—if such bad old days ever did^exist— and a visit to Limehouse in 1937 is merely ah excursion, accompanied by less risk than a journey through crowded thoroughfares, for at least in-- Limehouse there are. no traffic problems at night. Needless to say- I did. not go alone. 'Another' -stalwart New'Zealander, act companies me, and I am sure that before our manly tread and martial appearance all wrong-doers fled, thinking that the arm of the law was about to strike. We took a tram to the East End, getting out at the East India Dock road, about four miles from Charing Gross, and with really the whole of the East End still before us. As Limechouse was our goal, however, we did not wish to go further eastwards, so descended at Stepney station, and prepared for the worst. 1 Saturday night.- London’s East End -r-clear, starry, frosty, with a keen wind blowing—just the night for a good walk. Time, 9 o’clock. Our first stop was inade at Charlie Brown’s; perhaps the most famous “ pub ’’ in all London, on- 1 account of its unique collection of curios brought from every corner of the world by sailors of all - nations and almost all times. ; Charlie Brown, like his famous namesake, is dead and gone, but his collection goes marching on. It is the happy hunting ground for tourists who seek to get a little thrill from London’s East End by going on an expensive tour to “ London’s Underworld.” As a matter of fact the “pub” is the height of respectability. It stands on the main road, in a.f blaze of electric light, and its swing doors suggest nothing more sinister than a pint of Guinness. We duly entered, found a few sailors playing draughts at small' tables, sipping their grog, and proceeded to inspect the collection. A waiter, not at all Cockney, plump, and very voluble, showed us round—and all for nothing. I saw some of the loveliest ivory carvings I have ever seen, Hut the inconfruity was amusing. A huge black ear (stuffed, of course) filled up the corner, and round his " outstretched paws was draped a shell necklace. Alongside, an old water clock, dated 1685, dripped noisily, disdaining the fierce grimaces of a wooden statute of a Japanese warrior. Two glorious Ming 'vases (there was not a shadow of .doubt of-their ’genuineness) acted as foils to several pieces of Dresden arranged on a shelf. On the walls hung pictures of ships, faded photographs of the old East End, forgotten worthies, etc. _ ’ Two American negroes—with full- ■ blooded accents—were busy/ talking as we were being ■ shown the various “ objets d’art,” as they say; and in the middle of a very interesting con- - versatioml was having with our plump friend, a horde of tourists swept in. They pay 7s 6d to be escorted in a •' charabanc -to Charlie' Brown’s, and a mild “ chop suey joint which caters for tourists. Several - women, looking scared and bewildered, were being hurried around by' a guide. We made up bur minds to leave before completing Our tour of inspection, deciding that Charlie Brown’s was worth a second visit, but not on a Saturday night, and not during Coronation week. We crossed the road and struck southeastwards ' into a labyrinth of streets. In a hundred yards or so wo had left behind all signs of the bustling world, ■ and found ourselves in twisty, windy, dimly-lit streets (the old gas lamps spaced far apart) i We kept in the middle of the road, stich as it was, and peered eagerly at the quaint shops and houses • on either side, most of them •Chinese. Occasionally we passed a little Chinese child, and once or twice an adult, but the quietness—it was amazing. Dim shadows, frayed and decayed buildings, the stillness broken only by

the hoarse blasts of the tugs from the river we were approaching—these were the things that made Limehouse seem so mysterious and unreal. . .Yet we passed evidences that showed .that humanity., even in such surroundings had its softer and kindlier nature. In Phoebe street, a place indescribable for its gloom ’ and squalor, unfrequented by dog or cat, without even the inevitable loafer shuffling back into the shadows, we passed a little shrine on the side of one of the houses. This contained the names of those who had sefved in the war, marking those who had fafleny and on the little ledge in front,, spring flowers wero placed in bottles—jonquils, daffodils, and violets, purchased probably by those who could ill afford it. Yet London is always full of such contrasts. Your real Eastender will go without his beer—l don’t think that is quite true—but in any case, will sacrifice a great deal to provide for the comfort of his dog or his cat. For, as we-passed on - , we suddenly heard a raucous voice crying out “ Cars me, carsmc,” in broadest Cockney, and out of the gloom appeared a man selling cats’ meat. The mystery was explained. It was not long before we had clearer evidences that we were nearing the Thames. The wind became fresher, and the noise of shipping clearer. We wero passing great factories and warehouses, too, and suddenly, on turning from a narrow street, we saw a most un-, expected sight. The clear moonlight revealed a canal—it was the Regent’s Canal we found out afterwards, backel by colleges which rose from the very water—barges crowded round, a dock gate, and one or.two men pushing their clumsy vessels towards the dock gates. It seemed almost like a glimpse of Venice or- Amsterdam. And to increase our surprise, while we were still gazing, a funny old woman appeared from the shadows, and asked us, very politely,-if we could oblige her with a penny stamp. We. asked her where we were, but, seeing that she was determined to tell us all her troubles and her aches and pains, we wished hei - good evening, and journeyed down past - the dock gates, past, two policemen who simply cast appraising glances at us ; and down, to the waterfront. It is not easy to get to the Thames, for all the dock basins are enclosed and nightwatchmen keep a close guard over their wharves, warning off nocturnal prowlers. But wo were lucky, for we had stumbled upon Limehouse jetty, which ran a few yards but into the river. The tide was full, and all the shipping on that mighty river was stirring. Facing us, across the broad stretch of Thames, twinkled the lights of Deptford and Greenwich, and the Surrey commercial docks. On our left were the great West Indian docks, alive with shipping, while, on our right was the entrance to the Regent’s Canal. Away up river could be seen the lights of the shipping in London Pool, and the mighty old river itself was fpll of vessels. Close inshore the launches of the river police nosed here and there, tugs hooted and blared, small tramp steamers slipped their moorings and mado for the lower reaches. In two hours they would be abreast of Tilbury and Gravesend, and in another few hours tossing in the North Sea.

I have never seen so many ships. It was Saturday night, and all those v-b/oh could sail did so. While we watched, an old sailor, » real W. W. Jacobs survival, made his appearance from a nearby barge, and began to tell us something of the life of the river and the ships. That big vessel coming up froth Greenwich, was a ‘Dutch cargo boat. Watch ithe tug going downstream, p&ss it. Out of the shadows some steamers for' the West India Dock suddenly emerged. .There came a German from the pool, no-pilot aboard, he said, and proceeded to curse Germans and Dutchmen “ad lib.” He was a jolly old sort, and would have talked on indefinitely. ' I shall never forget this glimpse of London’s shipping. Vessels everywhere, all brightly lit, coming and going to all corners of the earth.—barges, tugs, launches, here, there, everywhere. One did not have to wait for a ship to appear, the whole rljfer was alive with them, and as we stood and watched, on that litle. jetty in Limehouse Reach, we sensed something of that spirit of London which is so mysterious and elusive. But, although the enchantment of the hour made .us wish to linger, we thought it best to return slowly, but by another route. The walls of the various buildings, as wo passed, were plastered with CCmmunistio captions, such as “Wage Slaves, Strike Now 1 ' Remember Spain. Down with. War,” and all finished off with a crude sickle and hammer, the sign of Communism. The East End at present is divided into two camps— Communism and Socialism v. Fascism (very much in the, minority). Free fights frequently occur between the rival parties, and* during November several serious riots occurred in Stephney. As it happened, we passed a Fascist orator, who, perched on a motor delivery van, was ranting about the evils of democracy to a group of slatternly women, one or two grimy youngsters, and two policemen. W© stopped to listen, and suddenly the two policemen were reinforced by a third. I think they expected us to start an anti-Black Shirt disturbance.

By this time, however, Limehouse was begining to pall, and as the hour was late there was nothing else for it but to move on. A noisy dance hall, which promised some fun, drew us to the door, which, however, revealed nothing, for on investigation we found a large screen placed carefully behind the door shut out the view from the curious. As we were not prepared to pay ninepence to secure the doubtful privilege of admission, we found ourselves once more in the cool night air. So ended a Limehouse night. My nest visit will be in daylight,# and I shall go armed with nothing more than a pencil and sketch book. But that will bo another tale.