Busan's bustling harbor in 1918 / Robert Neff Collection
“The great heat of summer will soon be upon you,” declared Chesney Duncan in late spring 1884, "and many [of the expat community in China] will be casting about for some place that will afford both change of climate and of scenery to spend the hot months in!”
For those who were “tired of dull and expensive Chefoo” (modern Yantai) in China, and were willing to “rough it a little in a cooler climate,” he suggested they come to Fusan (modern Busan), Korea. I think it is kind of amusing to point out that a little over a decade later, Chefoo was a popular escape for the American missionaries in Korea.
In his letter, Duncan went on to provide “two new and agreeable routes” that had recently been established to Korea from China and Japan.
The first he described was the Nanzing, a small British-owned steamship which was commanded by Captain Charles Richard Balbernie (sometimes spelled as Balbirnie or Balberney) and assisted by four or five European officers and a small Chinese crew.
According to Duncan, this ship was the most suitable for traveling families and was able to “accommodate in comfort some ten passengers in her cabins and saloon.” The ship departed Shanghai about once every three weeks and sailed first to Nagasaki where, while the ship was boarding cargo, passengers could do a little exploring.
“Don't go on shore,” urged Duncan, but instead “take your lunch, and get into a boat, and spend the day at Pappenberg (Takaboko Island), where you can have plenty of bathing, and wander round the sacred rocks, getting back in time for dinner.”
Generally the Nanzing departed Nagasaki just after dinner and, as Duncan poetically waxed, “with a fine [moonlit] night and calm sea, you will inhale health and strength at every breath, and be positively charmed with the scenery” and arrive in Fusan between 9 a.m. and 10 a.m. the following morning.
Pappenberg Island (Takaboko Island) in Nagasaki Harbor in the late 19th century / Robert Neff Collection
Not everyone had calm seas, but they did have praise for the beauty of the Korean coast. Reverend Wolfe, a passenger aboard the Nanzing, wrote:
“With daylight came peace and tranquillity, as our noble steamer ploughed her way into calm waters, amid the straits of the numerous islands, large and small; which are plentifully scattered along the south-western coast of Corea. Many of these islands rise hundreds of feet up out of the blue sea. Some of them are covered with verdure while others present only a weird and barren appearance to passengers as they look upon them from the deck of the steamers. Altogether they offer to the eye a pleasing tableau as the great waves which dash against them rise and sparkle their snowy spray in the bright rays of the morning sun. About 10 a.m. we steered through a very narrow pass, with gigantic rocks rising up high on both sides, and it seemed as if some mighty convulsion of nature had taken and riven a large island in two, leaving a deep chasm between. After this we passed close by many smaller and apparently uninhabited islets, and about noon entered the harbour and soon anchored in front of the foreign settlement…”
Usually the ship stayed in Fusan for only a day or two, before proceeding around the Korean Peninsula to Jemulpo (modern Incheon). Once again, Duncan urged the adventurous traveler to get out and explore while the ship was involved in transferring cargo — usually for two or three days. Comparatively speaking, Jemulpo had a much more wild nightlife than Fusan complete with bar brawls, houses of ill repute and even murder. But there were other less-dangerous pursuits such as rambling about the hills, swimming in the harbor and, for the strong and healthy, an adventurous journey to Seoul, the capital of the Hermit Kingdom.
Jemulpo harbor, circa 1890s or early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection
Duncan concluded:
"The return trip will be equally agreeable, and you [will] find yourself again in Shanghai, after your run in fresh fields and new pastures, a new man. A very enjoyable three weeks, which in comparison with the trip to Chefoo, has cost you about — no, it would not be fair to tell. The Nanzing is a splendid teamer, a most agreeable commander, a fine saloon, large cabins, and liberal table and attentive servants. Again abundance of ice, a fresh sea water bath from the hose every morning and evening, with sound sleep secured to you by Captain [Balbernie], every night at sea. Can anything in the way of change be more free from discomfort, or more suitable for a party of friends of the right sort going together?”
Of course, Duncan neglected to mention that not everyone aboard the ship were willing passengers, or even alive.
The second route was a little more difficult for travelers coming from Shanghai. They had to first sail for Nagasaki by one of the many steamships that served the two ports and then catch the Japanese steamship Tsuruga Maru, commanded by Captain Peter Hussey. This route took you from Nagasaki to Fusan, to Wonsan and then Vladivostok — each day taking you into a cooler climate.
As mentioned earlier, the voyage from Nagasaki to Fusan took about 16 hours and the Japanese steamship spent only about a day transferring goods before resuming its voyage to Wonsan (about 36 hours away in calm seas). Duncan described the port as being “quite different in appearance” from Fusan and it had much “higher mountains [and] more energetic natives.” Wonsan was much smaller than Fusan and its accommodations were not as plentiful nor as comfortable.
Wonsan harbor in the early 20th century / Robert Neff Collection
As in Fusan, transferring cargo usually took about a day and then the steamer sailed another 36 hours to Vladivostok where she stayed for three days before making the return voyage with “the same stoppages as the upward trip.”
Duncan's details of the Tsuruga Maru are sparse — perhaps owing to his allegiance to the Nanzing — but he described the ship as being “very comfortable, nice cabins, and saloon, a popular commander, good table, and plenty of ice.” What he didn't mention is the ship was recently introduced to this route. There was another ship, the Tamaura Maru that also served this route, and its reviews were less-than-flattering.
According to one passenger in the summer of 1883, the ship was an “incommodious steamer” crowded with passengers for Wonsan and Vladivostok.
“The Tamuara-Maru being only suited for the accommodation of some half-dozen rough and ready fellows of the genus that frequent the fishing stations north of Japan, our plight can well be imagined; here we were fifteen of us (including four ladies) huddled up any how in an unsuitable little steamer, in very warm weather, scarcely any of the most important necessaries provided by the ill-trained steward (Chinese), and not enough beds by one-half to afford a padding to place between the hard deck and our weary bodies.”
It is interesting to note that Hussey was the captain on this particular voyage and he was praised for trying “to arrange matters satisfactorily” for the passengers and it was only through his courtesy were the male passengers spared “considerable inconvenience.”
However, a trip to Korea was not for everyone, declared Duncan.
“The fastidious and hypercritical had better go to Chefoo [where] its hotel, sandy beach, and little scandals, will send them home happy and contented…”
Only the truly adventurous, willing to suffer some minor discomforts, should journey to the Land of the Morning Calm. Regardless of which itinerary these hardy explorers chose, they would return to Shanghai “pleased and delighted.”
My sincere appreciation to Diane Nars for her invaluable assistance.
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.