![[Millions of fishing boats and junks caught our attention. -- LRH. Photograph by L. Ron Hubbard.]](img/pg23_1.jpg)
The puffy little “Billy Dollar” snorted up to the landing and took us over across the river to Shanghai, the “Paris of the Orient.” The two miles down the river and across takes nearly an hour. A crumby Portuguese man-o’-war swung at her cable. Alongside was an American destroyer very smart and snappy. Farther down were the Pittsburgh and more destroyers and the transport Henderson. French, English, Japanese and Italian war vessels added to the formidable appearance.
Little fishing boats have an annoying way of rushing across the bows of the big liners. They do this to cut off the river devils, and often they barely miss being cut in two.
We took a French car through the bund to the Palace Hotel in Shanghai. Mr. Moran of Seattle, chief officer of the Madison, borrowed a car from a friend in Shanghai and his chauffeur took us through the British and French concessions, up Bubbling Well Road and across to a small part of the native city outside the barbed wire entanglements. Sikh policemen were everywhere. They are big dark bearded fellows and in their turbans and short trousers of khaki look picturesque. They carry great rattan sticks and a rifle slung across the back. Tommy Atkins was very much in evidence and the American marines, as well as Japanese and British marines.
Rickshaws were thick as sin. The drivers run or rather take a swinging pace. The Japanese rickshaw man does a bouncing trot.
Opening down the main avenue over which our car traveled were hundreds of narrow intriguing streets, teeming with life. Great fish floated here and there and paper banners hung overhead. The stores were stocked with every sort of junk. Dried fish rattled on strings in the wind. Queer looking foods and dry goods were side by side.
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