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| The port of Jemulpo in the early 1900s. A steam launch, possibly a river boat, can be seen in the background. Robert Neff Collection |
By Robert Neff
In the late 19th century, before the construction of the railroad, travel between Jemulpo (modern Incheon) and Seoul was either an arduous overland journey by foot, rickshaw, palanquin or cantankerous pony ― all were slow and uncomfortable ― or by a handful of small steam-powered riverboats. One might assume the riverboats were more comfortable and quicker, but those assumptions are generally wrong.
In the early 1890s, one English adventurer described ― somewhat amusingly ― his experiences of traveling on the Han River in a small steamboat. According to him, the steamboat company had two small vessels ― one was a small side-wheel paddleboat (possibly the 30-ton Kei-lei) and the other a screw steamer. He denounced them as "very rickety [and] wretchedly-managed craft." They sailed from Jemulpo on alternate days and returned from Seoul the following day ― at least they were supposed to.
At 5 in the morning on June 30, the Englishman, aboard the paddleboat, began his journey from Jemulpo. Almost immediately he began to rue his choice of transportation. The boat's awning was too low for him to freely walk about and he complained about the terrible heat of summer ― which, judging from other accounts, wasn't that bad and he was very lucky it wasn't pouring rain. His complaints weren't limited to the weather. The "only procurable refreshments ― he could obtain aboard the boat were ― eggs (often rotten) and tea."
If one was lucky, the trip from Jemulpo to Seoul (Yongsan) was supposed to take nine hours but often passengers did not enjoy this good fortune. According to our traveler, the Han River was "a broad shallow stream with many turnings usually marked by rapids." What wasn't marked were the mudflats and sandbars.
"There is always danger of running on a mud flat; this happened three times during my passage, and if the boat cannot get off, there is no other course but to wait ― several hours perhaps ― till the tide rises sufficiently to set the craft again afloat."
It is interesting to note that in another part of his writing, he claimed: "the paddleboat had to stop three times for repairs during the passage as the wooden cog-wheel required new cogs."
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| The busy port of Jemulpo circa 1910-1920s. Robert Neff Collection |
Fortunately for them, they did not have to wait until high tide and the paddleboat was able to force itself back into deeper water but "not before a great sailing-junk ran [the paddleboat] down at the stern, causing general excitement [among the passengers] and a rush to the other end of the boat."
A couple of weeks later, when he returned to Jemulpo from Seoul, our English traveler had equally ― if not more so ― harrowing experiences, but this time aboard the screw steamer. His complaints were relatively the same. Rotten eggs were still being served but this time, instead of tea, he was able to wash them down with "heated beer." Like the paddleboat, the awning on the screw steamer was too low to allow him to walk about and sitting down to relax was nearly impossible as there were only two chairs ― "one of (them) hopelessly broken." And, of course, groundings ― the screw steamer passed "a large flat-fish" and immediately turned to chase it eventually causing the vessel to ground itself.
While the paddleboat had problems with its cogs (an inconvenience at worst), the screw steamer had a much more dangerous problem ― its boiler.
"The boiler of this boat is said to be guaranteed to burst within a few weeks. Europeans on board go forward from time to time to watch the water-gauge, as it is usually prudent to suggest to the Japanese engineer the desirability of putting water into the boiler."
Fortunately, the riverboat arrived in Jemulpo with "a whole skin" and he was able to write about his adventure. Others weren't so lucky.
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| Jemulpo port circa 1908. Robert Neff Collection |
Isabella Bird Bishop, an English traveler writer known for her very opinionated and pull-no-punch style of writing, caustically described travel on the Han River by steamboat:
"Nearly every passenger who has entrusted himself to the river has a tale to tell of the boat being deposited on a sandbank, and of futile endeavors to get off, of fretting and fuming, usually ending in hailing a passing sampan and getting up to (Mapo riverport) many hours behind time, tired, hungry, and disgusted. For the steam launches are only half powered for their work, the tides are strong, the river shallows often, and its sandbanks shift almost from tide to tide. Hence this natural highway is not much patronized by people who respect themselves …"
Apparently Bishop Eugene R. Hendrix and his party did not respect themselves. According to one of his companions:
"… after puffing away for about seven hours our little craft ran on a mud bank and our captain informed us that there was no hope of proceeding further for at least eight hours (until the next high tide). As we were looking about for some protection from the piercing wind which swept the deck a fellow passenger told us of a good road to Seoul only six miles away."
Another writer continued the narrative by adding the bishop, determined to "show how Occidental pluck and energy could overcome Oriental inertia" had his party disembark from the boat at five in the evening and they set off for Seoul on foot. They soon learned that "the good road was a myth and that it was twenty miles to Seoul instead of six!"
Undaunted, they stubbornly plodded on and reached Seoul at half past one in the morning ― a full twelve hours later than their planned arrival. As for the steamer, it arrived at Yongsan at 5 in the morning. I am not sure the foot-sore bishop proved anything other than his stubbornness.
Perhaps part of the reason for the Japanese riverboat company's poor service could be attributed to a lack of competition ― there was no compelling reason for the company to improve because passengers had few if any, options. The company's monopoly, however, was soon challenged.
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| Yongsan, one of the Han River ports in the early 1900s. Robert Neff Collection |
In 1892, a Chinese company was established to provide riverboat service between Jemulpo and Seoul (via Mapo riverport). This company enjoyed a rather impressive subsidy of 5,000 dollars from the Chinese government and ― probably through the assistance of the very persuasive Chinese Resident Minister to Korea, Yuan Shih Kai ― managed to negotiate a very profitable contract to transport rice for the Korean government.
In August 1893, the Chinese company's first riverboat, Hanyang, arrived and began operating. A Chinese newspaper wrote:
"The boat, which is commanded by Capt. (Ferdinand H.) Morsel indicates a very creditable spirit of enterprise on the part of some Chinese capitalists, who if the present venture is successful ― and the prospects are unusually promising ― will soon put other vessels on the line. Being only intended for river service, the Hanyang is a small and handy craft. She is capable of carrying some 60 tons of cargo, and about 140 passengers."
The paper described the Hanyang as small but compared to its Japanese competitors it was huge. The Japanese only had six small steamers and the Hanyang "could have taken all the little Japanese craft into its hold without difficulty."
Not only was it larger and more comfortable than its competition but the Hanyang was also fast ― comfortably steaming at 10 knots an hour. Of course, this all came at a cost. According to the Chinese newspaper, "The fare for Asiatic passengers from [Jemulpo] to Mapo will be 75 cents and for foreigners $1.50."
Despite the promising start, the Chinese riverboat company failed by the end of the year ― primarily due to the Hanyang. The construction cost of the ship ― nearly $120,000 ― and the large crew required to operate it, put the company in financial straits almost from the beginning. The ship's size also hampered its navigation on the river; when filled with cargo it drew too much water making it more susceptible to grounding. A Japanese newspaper smugly concluded that the Hanyang's "size proved its ruin" and that of the company.
Even if the Chinese company had been successful, it would have been forced to cease operation the following summer when the Sino-Japanese War broke out in Korea on July 25, 1894. The morning calm was broken.
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.
