The Coolie Smugglers.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVI, Issue 8, 23 August 1911, Page 42

The Coolie Smugglers.

By

PERCY WALTON WHITAKER.

The Chinese exclusion laws of the Vnited States have caused the growth of a contraband traffic in smuggling Celestials into the country, either by sea

or over the land frontiers to north and south. The author tell* an exciting story of the days when cooliesmuggling was in its prime. THERE are excellent reasons why it would not be safe to publish the real name of the notorious smuggler of China men with whom this narrative is concerned, for the Chinese exclusion law of the United States is strict, and the penalty for violating it heavy. Yet 1 think the article should "be written, for in an age which modern transportation is making prosaic the wild deeds and terrific adventures of these captains of contraband furivs.i the romance of a day which is rapidly passing for ever. It has long been held a maxim that any smuggling venture paying dividends of fifty per cent, cannot be effectually stopped. Checked it may be. but venturesome spirits will always take the risk for a big money return. “ Big profits, quick returns, and devil take the danger,*’ is the motto. On the Pacific Coast the invasion of the Chinese is responsible for two forms of contraband trade not previously ex-isting—opium-smuggling and th? running over the border of excluded coolie labour. Both branches have yielded big revenues to the law-defying spirits who have successfully evaded detection. In Canada, on the northern borders, find in Mexico, in the south, thousands of almond-eyed Celestials gaze longingly into the forbidden territory. Eagerly they await the arrival of the freebooter who will conduct them into the promised hind. Of the two trades referred to. the opium traffic has been more frequently detected and exposed, though seizures of the drug are often made without capturing the criminals. It is safe to say. however, that in large or small quantities it still finds its way into the United States without paying toll to ti e guardians of the deep-sea ports. But it is the business of running the blockade with coolies that I am more concerned with— a trade whi h may reasonably be said to contain more •• human interest ;’’ moreover, it has the charm of the unknown, for its success depends upon absolute secrecy. Some elements of comedy have been connected with the traffic, but frequently failure has meant tragedy, and more than one grizzly horror has resulted from the operator’s efforts to conceal his crime in order to escape detection. The trade had its inception in the cunning minds of the leaders of the old San Francisco Chinatown. The wealthy •tongs, or secret societies there failing In their efforts to get any modification of the strict exclusion laws, cast about for other means of breaking down the barriers. The aid of white men as guides and commanders of the expeditions was necessary, and the remuneration offered large enough to attract venturesome and unscrupulous spirits. The “ head-rate,” or capitation fee. was fixed at £3O for every live Chinaman brought over the borders without detection, £l5 of the money being paid down by the Mexican agents of the tongs when the parties started. So much by way of introduction to the Story which follows. Some twenty years ago two men were mining ami prospecting in the hinterland of Ensenada de Todos Santos, which lies below the California line in Mexico. One of them bore the strange cognomen of “ Crawfish Bill ” • the other was known as George Brandon, though his intimates called him “ The Cap’n.’’ Little was known of their antecedent* by the other desert men. save that they plied the trade ©f beach<*ombers and shark*-'-Hver hunter* on the southern coast, and were reputed skilful pilots in those waters. How thia reputation waa acquir-

ed or maintained in a waterless country is not explained. Most desert yarns take on something of the weirdness of the land, though this one happened to be true. From some travelling coastman a hint was gleaned that many years ago the two partners had been engaged in a. smuggling venture. One dark night, while running a cargo, there had been a dispute between members of the band, and in the fight that followed a man had been killed. Nobody was ever tried for this crime, and it remained shrouded in mystery : but Brandon and “Crawfish Bill ’’ left the coast on a prospecting expedition. and never returned to the region. Late in the ’eighties the men made a

strike of uncertain value finding gold in a small pocket. Leaving the Ensenada country, they hied them to San Francisco and tasted the joys the gay city offers to mariners and others. Every night with a cargo of water front beverages on board. Bill” and “The Cap’n” drifted around the amusement palaces of the “ Barbary Coast." As long as their money lasted the two miners were great favourites, and when it was all spent the pair did not waste any time in useless repining. They both knew life too well and immediately set about repairing their fallen fortunes. Down in the Southland, while engaged in pocket hunting, " Crawfish Bill ’’ had befriended an ex-consul who had been discharged from an important Mexican post for drunkenness. Bill had supplied the ex-official with clothes, after which the men took him out on the desert with them as a partner in their mining enterprizes. It was the pity of two rough natures for the misfortunes of a man of education and former refinement which prompted them to this unselfish action. The kindness was wasted, however, for the consul declined to do anything but eat and recline in the shade, bemoaning his fall from high estate. Finding him a useless encumbrance, they finally bought hhn a ticket for San Francisco. In the light of after events, it would have been better for them to have shot the consul out on the desert, and it would not have mattered much to anyone else. About the time of the financial el lipse of - Bill ” and " The Cap’n ” the three adventurers happened to meet again in one of the underground beer-halls of the ■' Barbary Coast.’’ A general consultation resulted as to the best means of raising the wind, and here the consul's knowledge of the underworld of '* graft ” stood him in good

stead. In some way, through the tangled web of underground diplomacy, he established communications with the tongs, or Chinese secret societies. Afew months later “Crawfish” Bill” and Captain George Brandon were masters of two fourteen-ton schooners, chartered to carry contraband Chinese coolies in sueii seasons as wind, weather, and revenuecutters permitted. The ex-consud took up his abode in Mexico as the agent of the tongs, arranging for the smuggling of the bands of Chinese eagerly waiting for the chance to land in the United States, which to them appeared as a forbidden El Dorado where riches were to be gathered in an hour. From a little Mexican port Brandon took the run to San Clemente Island, a barren waste of sand and rock lying out in the Pacific about fifty miles from the mainland. From that point, at Smuggler’s Cove. "Bill’s” craft ran to the mainland when and whenever a landing was feasible. For several years they plied the coast with varying success. Though the risk was great the profits were large, being fixed at the rate of £3O for everv China-

man landed without detection on American soil, half of the head money being paid down at the start. Ostensibly the vessels were fishing-craft, and at odd times they carried odds and ends of cargo for casual customers in all the ports of Southern California. It is impossible to estimate the number of coolies run in by these two men during these years, for the traffic was necessarily irregular, depending upon the closeness of watch maintained from time to time by the Government. It is with Brandon’s adventures that we are now chiefly concerned. In 1902 the migration of the Mongolian horde to Mexico was exceedingly heavy, and far in excess of the requirements of extra hands on Mexican plantations and mines. Consequently the American authorities were on the alert, and devised methods to stem the threatened invasion on the southern border. All Customs officers, border patrols, and commanders of revenue boats received strict orders to exercise eternal vigilance in the effort to keep out the Celestials eagerly seeking admittance by the "underground route.’’ The captains of the contraband schooners were accordingly hard put to it to make successful runs. One dark night in April Brandon sail ed from the Mexican coast. The weather was gusty, with a stiff breeze blowing, and a lowering sky presaged a wild night for tlie little vessel lost in the waste of waters. The heavy swell tossed the schooner about from roller to roller, making things most unpleasant for the contraband passengers. Securely battened under hatches were fourteen groaning, seasick Chinamen, praying to strange gods for deliverance from the evil sickness. They were a picked lot. All of them had been in California before, but under the new exclusion law they had

been unable to procure return certlff, cates. Most of them were cooks and her, ryfarmers, and all of them were capable of earning good wages in the forbidden land. The reward for landing each of these men had been fixed at £lOO, taking into consideration their superior earning ability. Brandon’s crew of two were waifs of the coast, known from Ketchican in fat Alaska to the Mexican boundary as men who would turn a trick at any risk, providing tl>e pay was big. One of them known as Jack Connors, was a giant in size ; the other, also a man of large stature, answered to the name of “Stub” Smith. Doubtless both were assumed names. They were reckless, daring fellows, rattling good schooner hands. For this trip they hired at £5O each, and had demanded and received the money down before the schooner set sail. Brandon took the wheel, and through; out the night steadily felt his way np the coast. It was a proverb in the coast towns that ’’ The Cap’n ” could smell tho headlands in time enough to make west; ang around them. When morning dawned a void grey fog, peculiar to the Pacific, in those latitudes hung over the sea. The wind had died down, though the heavy swell of the lone Pacific rollers pitched the little schooner about until the captain watched his masts with anxious eyes. The fog hung low, but the skipper knew he was in the vicinity of San Clemente, though, until the heavy curtain lifted, he dare not attempt the run into, the Smuggler's Cove. He stood in close enough to hear the low boom of the breakers on the point, then tacked and steered for the open sea. For hours he beat to the windward then tacked again and bore down for- the island, waiting for the impenetrable pall of fog to lift. Relatively changing the vessel’s position but little, the smuggler cruised off the island throughout the day. Towards evening the heavy swell • aimed down into the long, heaving stutge usual in those waters. The captain, ordered the hatch to be raised to give the Chinamen air. When this was done the half-smothered coolies crawled up on deck. The Chinamen sat around on the deck with yellow, cadaverous faces, that testified to their sufferings. The- fog now showed signs of lifting, breaking away in the east towards the island, and the smugglers felt much relieved to know that their part of the risk would soon be over. The responsibility would be transferred to the men of the other schooner, who would take the Chinamen off in small parties and land them in different places on the mainland. Suddenly the low boom of a steamer’? whistle off the port side threw them into a panic of fear. Heavens .’ It’s the revenue-cutter McCullagh ! ” cried Conners! " I’d know that whistle anywhere.’’ "We’ve got to run for it.” snapped Brandon. " Get the coolies under hat-ches-—quick.” With the Chinamen out of sight. Brandon counted on the cutter’s officer- takinir them for fishermen and running by without suspecting them. Ccnners and "Stub" rushed forward and threw the hatch-cover back, shouting to the Chinamen to get in quickly, I hen the trouble began. The coolies had had enough of the stiffling hold, and cere so sick that they preferred capture to running the risk of suffocation down below. They well knew that deportation was ad they had to fear. To the smuggler- the matter was more serious, for they would undoubtedly get ten years’ imprisonment in a United States penitentiary if they were caught with the uncert ifieated Chinamen on board. “ We’ll have to do it, George." cr ieJ Smith, significantly, and Brandon noddnl assent. “Be lively, boy ; throw 'em bidily. shouted the captain. Conners and "'bu leaped into the midst of the t< rritied coolies, and, catching them by the bead and heels, heaved them into tin ho.I like so many sacks of coal. lour >r five of the men resisted, but were soon felled to the deck by the now de-perate smugglers. Bleeding and uneor.-'ioiH they were thrown down on the tip 0 their mates. One or two who clung the ropes were torn loose and knk*’ into submission, voluntarily. down to their companions in misery. 1'• last man ran down the deck and. fieri" zied with fear, thinking hi« count;.' 111 ' had all been murdered, jumped o' f board with a wild shriek of despair. With blanched faces Conners and replaced the hatch-cover, while Brainy headed the vessel away from th* j Crowded with sail, and heeled o'ei un 1

her rail barely cleared the tumbling seas, tlie little schooner fled down the wind, goon a fresh land-breeze scattered the last remnants of the fog. Barely three miles away, coming around the point, »vas a small steamer. She was headed straight "for the fleeing smugglers, and jl lt , white walls of water foaming from j ier bows showed tliat escape was hopeless ‘lt - no use, groaned Brandon ; “the game is »!’ ! We’re in for it. It's a toss ten years or follow the Chink overboard.” Conners, the big deck hand looked at Jim curiously. “You are tired. George.” he said. ‘■Give me the wheel ; it don’t make much difference now.” Utterly despondent, and satisfied that capture was inevitable, the smuggler pepped silently away, leaving the steering of the vessel to Conners. ‘Now get on your life-preservers,” roared the ruffian. “We’re close in; we'll run to shore, go overboard, and hide in the hills till Crawfish picks us tip.” In an emergency the master-mind and real leader always comes to the front,

anl wonderingly the two other men obey-?! him. In view of the tragedy that followed it is only fair to say that neith r Brandon nor Smith had the faintest inkling of the fiendish deed their companion contemplated. Looking to port, Brandon saw the steamer was coming up fast; she was now hardly more than i mile away. e might as well let the Chinks up,” he r marked, moving towards the hatchwav. Th e next instant he was fiounderJn - in the sea, choking and gasping for l-reali. t miners, who was a real desperado, h 1 1 formed a plan to avoid capture. Alsu, he wa9 a n]an w ho did not know t ie - nsation of physical fear. ■I lluming the helm hard to port, he •nil" -I the schooner to jibe violently the booms coming over with terrific h'i> . In a twinkling the masts went by the hoard, snapping at the deck like P i" - ••ms, and the vessel capsized, sinkJ l! r ta the helpless coolies, pinned up lik'' rat- in a trap. I’ l hi lon and "Stub” swam until picked ti;> by the steamer which was only a Pun- ;ot away when the schooner sank, oniieis was never seen again, though "as the strongest swimmer of the probably he was struck by a "Hing mast and killed. He wept to his •’•"tii with the murder, of fourteen help * e,i men on his souL

Though horrified at the grisly tragedy in which they had taken some part, Brandon and Smith explained that theirs was a fishing-boat of the deep-sea trawling-fleet, and attributed the mishap to the bungling steering of a green hand. The steamer turned out to be a small fast tramp, bound for Central America, though she was built very much on the line of the revenue boat the smugglers had taken her to be. When speaking of this tragedy in after years, Brandon swore that he would have shot Conners down at the wheel if he had suspected that he intended capsizing the vessel. The disastrous ending of this trip left the smugglers without a boat to carry on the traffic in human freight, ami £GOO of the money earned in previous trips went down in the schooner. Being in low financial condition, Brandon accordingly turned his attention to the land operations. From the Mexicans port of Guaymas, on the Gulf of California, the Sonora Railway runs to Benson, Arizona, crossing the American boundary to Nogales. At the time of Brandon’s arrival Guavmas was full of almond-eyed

Celestials waiting a favourable opportunity for the dash across the border. As at Ensenada, all had wistful eyes turned longingly towards the walled Republic. The governing the traffic, were, of course, widely different from those of the sea route. The border was closely patrolled, and the parties of coolies escorted across were necessarily small. Also they were more frequently turned back or captured. The trade was not so well organized, the operators working to a large extent independently. Brandon soon became the leading spirit in the business at Guaymas, through his former connection with the tongs. In physique he was especially adapted for the work, being strong, lithe, and a good runner. Whenever detected by the border patrols in rough country, his lleetness of foot always enabled him to escape capture. In a few days’ time he would collect another party and try again. He is credited by the other border smugglers with never deserting his changes until convinced that success was hopeless. Moreover, he never led them into dangerous country where there was a good chance of perishing by thirst on the desert. After the year 1005 Brandon disappeared. By the men who knew him most intimately he was held a good fellow, and one of the best types of Hie

smuggling man. Perhaps lie has made his stake in the perilous trade and is now engaged in some safer and more la w ; ahiding yareer. “Crawfish Bill” also, operated on the border, after disposing of his schooner when the deep-sea trade became too hazardous. Shortly after Brandon’s disappearance he was shot by Mexican rurales whose palms had not been sufficiently greased. Their quondam friend, the ex-consul, also came to a bad end—the natural one of men of his type — dying of delirium tremens in Guaymas. With the passing of this band, the best-organized and most successful coterie of smugglers was destroyed. It is hardly likely there will ever be such another. The difficulty of making their way safely across the border has discouraged the coolies, and so close has the watch become that only in the large cities are they safe from detection. Also, the übiquitous little Japanese has run them out of many of the Californian industries lin which they formerly held a monopoly. The traffic, therefore, has dwindled to small proportions. Soon it will be a mere memory of a picturesque and romantie era. Undoubtedly many grisly tragedies occurred in connection with the trade, for the worst outlaws of the border engaged in it. At one point, a lonely spot between Lomas and Hatehit.i. five Chinamen were found dead, all the bodies bearing bullet wounds. They had •been murdered by treacherous guides, who had been paid in advance. The C hinese were lured into the lonely desert country and shot down in cold blood. None of the murderers were ever discovered. The writer saw the whitening bones of these men lying five years after the tragedy on the spot where they fell. Evidence of another crime was found on the northern border, near the C anada line, in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains The bodies of eleven Chinamen floated down the Columbia River. Nothing was ever discovered as to the way in which they met their end. This was in 1889, and these men were presumably victims of outlaw smugglers. Perhaps the worst crime of all, however, was the practice of leading colliies into desert places, and then leaving them to perish of thirst or madness.