Title: The Australian Crisis
Author: C. H. Kirmess
* A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook *
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Language: English
Date first posted: September 2006
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The Australian Crisis
C. H. Kirmess

"THE AUSTRALIAN CRISIS" is the final result of an attempt on my
part, early in 1907, to write a magazine article dealing with the
dangers to which the neighbourhood of overcrowded Asia exposes the
thinly populated Commonwealth of Australia. At that time, my thoughts
on the subject resembled those of the Australian multitude: they were
disconnected, and more in the shape of a vague fear than defined
clearly. However, when I began to work out my problem, I soon
recognized that it was too vast for intelligible compression within
the limits of an ordinary magazine contribution. I was quite convinced
of this when the central idea of the book occurred to me--the
possibility of a coloured invasion of Australian territory, organized
on such lines that the Australians would be unable to persuade the
heart of the Empire that there was any invasion.

This central idea may be termed my only presupposition, for which
reason I have been at pains to treat it from every point of view.
Granted its feasibility, the whole narrative of Parts I and III
follows as a matter of cold, logical necessity. True, the details
might vary, but the drift of events would be inevitable in the
direction indicated. Part II is an interlude, which has grown out of
my deep conviction that Australia would somehow strike a direct blow
against the invading enemy. It investigates also the possibility of
success attendant upon such an attempt.

There have been a good many abstract warnings of late on the subject
dealt with by me. Unfortunately the Australians, who have the
reputation of being a rather imaginative people, seem to have no
imagination at all where the future safety of the nation is concerned.
The past warnings have been ridiculed as being unwarrantably
pessimistic. One more bald statement would probably share the same
fate. Apparently the Commonwealth can be roused to a sense of its
danger only by patient investigation of its real position in the world
and of the possibilities arising thence. That has been my purpose.

My book deals exclusively with realities. For this reason it is
written in the form of a retrospection from the year 1922 upon events
supposed to have happened less than ten years earlier, viz., in 1912.
The nearness of the latter date has been decided on deliberately. A
deferment of action to a later time would have made unavoidable the
introduction of a fantastical element. Nobody can guess what the
conditions may be even a decade hence. My purpose did not require the
invention of unheard-of war engines or radical changes on the map of
the world. On the contrary, the introduction of new factors, of things
that do not yet exist, would only confuse the issue. But every
thinking man can foresee the probable political developments of the
next few years. I show what is possible under the known circumstances
of the hour almost, to-day or to-morrow. And I think if that has no
power to compel the citizens of the Commonwealth to seriously consider
their position, no dreadful visions of a distant future will.

C. H. KIRMESS
SYDNEY.

* This forecast romance is something more than a novel: it is a work.
So as to secure quicker publication by giving larger instalments, it has
been decided not to illustrate "The Australian Crisis."




Part I: The Feet of Clay



Chapter I: Ships That Pass in the Night



IN the evening of April 1, 1912, two white men were camping upon a
sandy rise overlooking Junction Bay, Northern Territory, Australia.
Theirs was a strange presence, at a strange time, in those strange
surroundings. But it is just as well that accident or fate had thrown
them there, for otherwise this fragment of contemporary history--as
matter--of-fact and unemotional as all history must be--would have
been bereft even of a picturesque beginning. The air was pleasantly
cooling after sunset, under the influence of a light eastern breeze
which wafted along the night sounds of many animals from the direction
of the lagoon. Low in the western sky the crescent of the young moon
hung just atop of the tall timber. Towards the sea everything was very
quiet. The sands extended far out to where a broad belt of blue mud
deadened the soft ripple of the receding tide.

On the high ground, bare but for scattered tufts of grass, the men
were safe from creeping things and mosquitoes. The calm beauty of the
night invited to a long vigil of smoking and talking. Naturally, the
Northern Territory--its vastness its present state and future
prospects--was the topic of conversation. Both men had been animated
by the same hopes to try their fortunes there. Now that only a few
pompous formalities remained to be gone through before the transfer of
the enormous, empty province to the Commonwealth would be complete, a
booming prosperity could not fail to come, and they had hastened to
the spot to be in its van.

The elder of the two was clearly an Australian by birth--tall,
darkish, of that looseness of limb which denotes the breed. His name
was Thomas Burt. He was a prospector and miner, and acted, like many
others, as a self-appointed pioneer for British Capital, which was
expected to become interested once more in the great mineral wealth of
the country. Lately he had explored the district south and east of
Pine Creek, and returning to this place for a spell, he had there made
the acquaintance of his companion, a Yorkshireman, who had imported a
stock of merchandise from Sydney into Port Darwin.

The two adventurers, attended by Burt's black boy, had departed from
Port Darwin in a northeasterly direction. The Australian scorned
beaten tracks, and they had headed straight for the wilderness.
Exploration in the season immediately after the rainfalls, which had
ceased early this year, was indeed a rare pleasure. Fresh water was
still met with in every hollow, and game abounded. Bush and jungle
looked now their grandest and loveliest. Nearer the coast the
landscape became more brilliant in colour and variety. The fascination
of the interminable solitudes enveloped them until they made up their
minds to push right on to the sea. They kept as much as possible to
the watershed, where progress was comparatively easy, away from the
impenetrable network of creeks and flood-channels, overgrown by rank
vegetation. So it happened, that after a leisurely ride of nine days,
they emerged upon Junction Bay.

When the faint gurgle of flowing-in waves marked the turn of the tide
through the utter stillness, Thomas Burt rose to stretch his limbs,
and sauntered sleepily along the crest. The night was so clear that
stars visible just above the horizon showed like signal lamps of ships
skimming over the dark expanse of ocean. But the Australian did not
look for lights out at sea; well he knew that the course for steamers
lay far out of the danger-zone of islands and reefs which guard our
continent to the north, and that proas, junks or small traders which
might venture closer inshore did not waste good oil in those parts.
Yet something must have caught his attention, for he peered out a good
while over the murmuring waters. Suddenly he gave a sharp whistle, and
faced round to his mate dozing beside the dying embers of the fire. He
soundly shook the sleeper, and shouted in his ear--

"Rouse yourself and look over this anthill. Take your glass."

The Yorkshireman stumbled to his feet. Several miles out he espied a
gleam which unquestionably came from a well-trimmed ship's lantern.

"It can't be a steamer," Thomas Burt commented; "they don't show
their noses round here for fear of smashing 'em in. As for other
navigators hereabouts, they have not the reputation of burning
bonfires on their boats."

He dropped his field-glass lazily. His friend continued watching
through his. "I see two lights now," he said.

The Australian re-applied his glass. "It must be a steamer, then," he
remarked. "They may be drifting."

They kept a silent watch for some time. From the shore rose the odour
of organic things decomposing in stagnant brine. Again Thomas Burt
spoke.

"It's two ships. They kept in line, but now they are steering
different courses right into the bay."

The Yorkshireman shivered slightly in the freshness of the small
hours. "We might give them a fire signal," he said.

"Steady!" replied the other. "There's no fog. They've passed the bar
a long way. Ah!" He gave a little gasp of surprise, for he had
discerned yet more lights. "It's a whole fleet; they are manoeuvring.
There is purpose behind this. Our help won't be wanted."

"Well," queried the Yorkshireman, "what does it mean, Mr. Know--
all?"

The Australian hazarded a conclusion: "I'll tell you. The Singapore
squadron is on a training cruise, though what they are doing here I
can't guess."

His friend laughed. "Perhaps a new idea to dispose of the scrap-iron
ships your people make so much row about. Piling them a-top some
reef."

At this moment a solitary red rocket shot up from the nearest
steamer, vanishing in a luminous haze. A merry twinkle of lights from
the more distant ships answered the signal.

"You see it is a naval affair," said Thomas Burt.

The other had a bright notion. "O, yes," he said, "and I can also
inform you that it isn't the Australian Navy, because it has not been
built yet."

"Lie down flat," whispered the Australian, dropping to the ground
himself.

From the leading vessel, which was bearing inshore gradually, and
had approached to within three miles, the beam of a strong searchlight
had been flashed on the land, and was now sweeping the shore. After
less than two minutes' play it was masked again.

Through sand and scant grass the two travellers shuffled on all
fours until they gained the inner slope of the rise. The Yorkshireman
placed a trembling hand on the Australian's shoulder. "All this is so
unaccountable," he breathed.

Thomas Burt lifted his head cautiously over the crest. The other
lights were drawing closer. "Evidently they know what they are looking
for," he said, frowning. "It did not take them long to find out,
anyhow, since they have not turned on that ray again. I wonder if they
calculated to have unasked eye-witnesses at this performance."

"But we'll have to think of ourselves, mate," his friend broke in.

The Australian nodded. They covered the ashes of their fire
carefully with sand. A call, like the wail of a night-bird, summoned
the black servant, who had been soundly asleep near the horses. By
order of his master he saddled the animals, and led them further
inland behind some thick scrub. The friends examined their guns and
pistols, and returned to their posts. It was about two o'clock in the
morning, and the tide was near its highest point, almost lapping the
base of their lookout.

Five steamers lay in a crescent, stretching east, parallel to the
beach. From the forecastle of each, a motionless, blinding cone of
light illumined shore and adjacent waters. Although the vessels might
be two miles distant, an ever-increasing din could be heard quite
distinctly. Suddenly a puffing noise approached, and soon strings of
three or four boats, towed by squat motor launches, emerged into the
glare.

The friends had to pinch each other to make sure that they were not
dreaming.

About the unintelligible event, the tropical night wrapped her
scent--laden cloak, pierced only by a soothing, lulling wind and by
the gleam of stars shining in calm aloofness on the high-vaulted
firmament. As calmly aloof shone those five bluish rays in front of
them, pointing the way for some dark Power creeping upon the sleeping
continent with the inevitableness of Fate. So far, noise and shadowy
glimpses had a curious atmosphere of detachment about them, as if the
scene were projected on curling, hissing vapours.

The spell was rudely broken the instant the searchlights beat on the
boats, which promptly executed a smart manoeuvre. Within a hundred
yards from shore, the motor launch swung round sharply. But the boats
had already thrown loose from her and from each other. On they came
nearly abreast, still propelled by the impetus of tugging. As this
relaxed, two pairs of oars shot out of each boat and pulled
strenuously for the beach. Then, as it touched ground, men leaped
overboard and dragged it upon dry sand. Each boat disgorged about a
score of occupants, who at once, automatically, began to discharge
cargo. First, rifles were brought out and built together in the
pyramids characteristic of all trained soldiery. A multitude of cases
and bags followed. In five minutes the craft were run into the sea
again. Three men jumped in, the oars started working, a file was
formed and lines were passed between. Some little distance out, the
launch hovered, waiting; promptly she caught up, the boats hitched up,
and back into the gloom the mysterious procession puffed.

The watchers strained their eyesight in vain to unravel the identity
of these nocturnal immigrants. Not more than 300 yards divided them
from the nearest group. But as the latter was approximately interposed
between the source of light and the observers, it appeared in merely
silhouette, in black outlines against the surrounding brightness. It
was evident that strict discipline was being enforced. One man alone
gave out commands and was hurriedly obeyed. Of his words, it could
only be made out that they were not English. Soon the boats landed
reinforcements, ever and ever more. All the men seemed very tired;
they lay down in the sand to snatch some sleep. This carelessness
proved that the new-comers were not in the least afraid of any hostile
attack.

When the two friends recognized that they would have to await the
break of day for closer investigation, they left their exposed
position and returned to the horses, which they found fastened to
trees. The boy was away, but he responded to the call with little
delay. Pointing to the sea he said, "Them plurry Chinamen." His senses
were sharper, perhaps, and his cat-like agility might have got him
very near to the singular visitors. The men looked at one another in
silence. Possibly they did not dare to give utterance to their secret
suspicions while there was yet hope.

At last dawn paled the east. Along the beach bugles resounded. Some
figures appeared on the crest of the rise--still compact black dots
against the colouring sky. One pointed to the ground, and shouted.
Others ran to join him. The whites knew; the morning glow had revealed
their footprints, the imprints of hoofs and other traces of their
camp.

Now with the abruptness of tropical latitudes, day broke gloriously.
The first slanting rays of the sun lit up many faces on the ridge
peering anxiously in their direction. But the thicket hid them well.
Both friends focussed their glasses on those multitudinous prying
features far off and then exchanged their thoughts in a simultaneous
exclamation:

"Japanese! The Japanese!" A bitter curse was added.

Next moment the horses greeted the morning brightness with joyous
neighs. Little the brutes knew that they were saluting the Rising Sun.
The animals' cries betrayed the presence of strangers. The Japanese
rushed to arms, and volley after volley was poured into the forest.
But the whites were safe on their swift horses and glided away in true
bushman fashion, never exposing themselves. Only once they turned back
and fired one round in reply. One pursuer collapsed, shot down. That
was Australia's welcome to the invaders. Behind, ringing bugle signals
died out echoing in the woods--a last menace and challenge. On the two
explorers tore to the south-west, to carry the fateful news to the
world of white men.



Chapter II: An Unadvertised Immigration Policy



FOR several years preceding 1912 constant reports of famine in Japan
had reached Europe. Travellers had vouchsafed for their accuracy, and
much money had been collected abroad, especially among the sympathetic
British. The Government of the Mikado did its best to prove its
concern and goodwill by continuing an ostentatious policy of
emigration to its new possessions, Korea and Southern Manchuria. But
those countries carried already large populations, and could only
absorb limited numbers. For this reason the Japanese statesmen were
compelled to look towards other emptier lands, and they began by
turning their attention to the opposite shores of the Northern
Pacific. How their bold policy was assailed by the white settlers of
the Western Canadian and United States slopes, and how in the end it
had to be abandoned, the present generation remembers well. The
Eastern Island Empire had to recant its claims for equal rights and
recognition of its subjects with the white citizens of American
communities. Its submission to the inevitable was rewarded by the
successful placing of a loan of £20,000,000 in London, New York, Paris
and Berlin.

Foiled in this direction, yet strengthened financially, Japan had
leisure to contemplate its failure with a view of profiting by its
lessons. Publicity had beaten it. Everywhere on the west coast of
North America there lived already too many white men, and every move
had therefore been detected and counteracted swiftly. Japan was indeed
in serious straits. Cramped for space in spite of victory, surrounded
by overcrowded or inaccessible nations, oversea expansion was its
necessity. Still suffering from the stress of the Russian campaign, it
could think of war only as a last extremity. And the habitable parts
of the globe were divided up and strongly held between the White
Powers. The problem was to discover a district nominally owned by one
of them where the white man had not entered into full possession, and
had thus not morally forestalled the right of other races to settle,
as long as-they were content to do so, under the foreign flag; a
district, in other words, where the first steps of peaceful Japanese
immigration could not rouse the fierce indignation which they had
caused elsewhere. Such a district existed, nearer and more convenient
to Japan than any other possible field of exploitation--the Northern
Territory of Australia, with its 600,000 square miles and less than
1000 white people.

Japan had long cast longing eyes in that direction. Since the end of
the year 1906, a steady stream of its subjects had invaded Java and
Straits Settlements. But Java is one of the most thickly populated
islands in the world; its acquisition by the Mikado would have meant,
apart from other probable complications, the repetition of another and
more troublesome Korea. The Straits Settlements were one of the
master-keys of British dominion, and were, therefore, well out of
Japan's reach as conquests. But as stepping-stones towards the
Commonwealth, the temporary penetration of both was invaluable. Thus
the ambitious Island Empire cautiously felt its way towards its goal,
until its rebuff elsewhere and the slowly-awakening consciousness of
Australian public opinion made its rulers fearful of being anticipated
by an influx of State-assisted white settlers into the north of the
Commonwealth.

Those developments may have precipitated the crisis. But several
other facts, which have lately leaked out, seem to prove that Japan
had selected the year 1912 for its descent upon Australia for some
considerable time past. It is necessary to turn to the Island of
Formosa for confirmation. Its helpless population about this time was
said to be in such violent ferment (even after more than ten years of
Tokio administration!) that a strong army of occupation was necessary.
Tokio intimated further that it was desirable under the circumstances
to isolate the malcontents from the outside world and from outside
encouragement, and it adhered to this policy rigidly, to such an
extent that news of interest from the little island dependency hardly
got into the European and American press at all in the years just
preceding 1912. Formosa seemed to be entirely forgotten--exactly as
was desired by Japan.

Yet during this period of silence a very special system of
immigration into Formosa was carried on under the direct supervision
of the Japanese Government. In some respects it was military
settlement, so that the semi-official admission merely strained the
truth. But it had several other remarkable features. The immigrants
were not soldiers of the line; they were reserve men who had served a
full term, and were now in the very prime of life and vigour. People
of low stamina might pour into Korea, Manchuria and North China, but
they were carefully excluded from Formosa. The plain of Gilan, on the
east coast, had been chosen for the site of the settlement. It
presents tropical conditions similar to those of the Northern
Territory. A still more approximate climate could have been met with
on the west coast, with its full-length expanse of alluvial plains
twenty miles wide, bounded inland by low hills gradually leading up to
the Formosan Alps. But it would not have been so suitable for the
purpose, owing to the openness of its geographical situation, facing
China, whence it had been colonized. Swarms of junks were always
employed in commerce with the mainland, and pried into every corner in
the search for profitable business. The populous ports were frequented
by European steamers. So there could have been no secrecy for uncommon
proceedings.

The contrast of seclusion on the east coast was great. The Chinese
had never crossed the mountains. What population there was consisted
of half-tamed aborigines, living in stone huts and tormented by
incursions of the fierce, nomadic hunter tribes of the hills. Jungle
and thick forests encroached on the plain, which is shut off by high
ranges descending vertically thousands of feet into the sea. It rises
towards the interior in well-formed tablelands like the Northern
Territory, though, of course, on a miniature scale. Here the parallel
ends, for the towering Alps of the Formosan background, which send
their rushing torrents down throughout the years, have no counterpart
in tropical Australia. Yet, on the whole, the climatic conditions are
similar. Equal methods of cultivation are rewarded by equally generous
results in suitable parts of both countries. In summer the heat is
very humid and enervating in Gilan, and people who have lived and
worked there would feel the drier heat of the Northern Territory as
relief. Considering everything, there can be no doubt that a better
acclimatizing stage could not have been fixed upon on the road from
temperate Japan to the torrid north of Australia.

At the end of the first quarter, 1911, several thousand Japanese had
been concentrated in the plain of Gilan. They lived in large sheds at
first, and were subject to severe discipline. No effort was spared to
give them a thorough agricultural and pastoral training. According to
one investigator, every twelfth man had passed a special Government
course in those branches, and was now appointed headman of his
fellows, for whose due efficiency he was made responsible. Every form
of suitable cultivation was practised, but the greatest care was taken
to raise a sufficiency of the necessaries of life, so that the new
settlement might speedily become self-supporting. Rice, cane, sweet
potatoes and various vegetables were grown on the plain, where goats,
pigs, and poultry were also kept. The uplands were given over to wheat
and other cereals, and to the pasturage of horses, cattle and sheep.
Much attention was paid to the making of roads. In short, it seems
that no detail was neglected which might in any way contribute to the
success of the great enterpise of which the Gilan colony was only the
preparation.

Many medical officers looked after the health of the settlement, and
their exertions kept down fever and tropical diseases. Epidemic
appears not to have occurred at all. A well-planned diet, combined
with thoughtful management, which insisted on just the right measure
of arduous open-air toil, and varied it with regular military
exercises, promoted moral steadiness and healthfulness. Physical
weaklings were eliminated by a judicious weeding-out process, and were
repatriated without delay. On the other hand, reinforcements continued
to swell the ranks. These newcomers, stimulated by the results already
achieved, sought to surpass them in their own domain, and a healthy,
absorbing competition between the camps sprang up. Nothing could have
pleased better the supervisors of the experiment. It was certainly a
difficult task to hold together such huge numbers of vigorous men long
enough for effective training. Mere discipline could not ensure final
efficiency. The settlers must also be willing to learn, and to that
end they had to be kept in good spirits. Their tempers were, indeed,
sorely tried by the incessant hard work until the introduction of a
keen sense of rivalry provided a more personal interest and added a
new zest to their labours.

Everything went well until the monsoonal deluges of autumn prevented
field work to a large extent. Then, at last, the men began to get out
of hand. Family instincts could no longer be repressed by toil, high
promises, and the weeding-out of the less disciplined. Small bands
deserted and roamed the hills searching for wives among the natives.
As often as not they never returned. When the need for female partners
made itself felt so pressingly, the authorities yielded to it. That
they had delayed the matter so long, till nearly the end of 1911, was
part of a deep-laid scheme. For the master-minds who had conceived the
great enterprise were determined to bend even the natural passions of
men to the service of the cause.

The invasion of the Northern Territory was timed to take place at
the end of the rainy season (March, 1912), as later events have shown.
That was obviously the correct moment, allowing the immigrants to
begin cultivation of the soil forthwith and to gather the first
harvest in the same year. But the official interest did not permit
matters to rest here. It was desirable to bind the settlers to their
prospective new homes by stronger ties than manual toil and its reward
could forge. Only one possible way existed by which that goal could be
attained: family settlement there. This was the consideration why the
marriage of the colonists had been postponed. The idea was that the
freshly united couples should spend a honeymoon of six or eight weeks
in the plain of Gilan. Then the men were to be hurried off to their
final destination, there to prepare proper shelter for their wives,
who would follow a month or two later. During the last quarter of 1912
children would be born--natives of whom birthright, that most powerful
moral or sentimental claim, would entitle to a share in the empty
continent.

A simpler and more thorough method of colonization could not be
imagined. It has become known to fame as the "Progressive Family
System," and admirers of Japan have called it its master-stroke of
policy. The experience of many bitter failures, no doubt, led up to
the evolution. For instance, the American venture suffered from being
a mere migration of male coolies, with all the imperfections and vices
attaching to that limitation. Evidently, a horde of bachelors,
transplanted upon foreign soil, yet excluded from intermarriage
because of race prejudice, could not really claim equal rights with
the citizens thereof who represented families. Japanese genius had
freed the Northern Territory settlement of this inherent weakness of
tenure almost from the outset.

About the middle of January, every member of the huge immigration
party, which, according to a conservative estimate, numbered now over
6,000 men, rejoiced in the possession of a wife. The young couples
lived in wooden huts, constructed in advance by the men. The whole
plan of accommodation and activity was as nearly as possible the
prototype of the later Australian colony. The dwellings formed
isolated villages of about 200 families each, some placed on the
flats, others in creek valleys and on the high lands, and linked to a
larger coastal settlement by roads and telegraph.

Suddenly the happy communities were alarmed by rumours of impending
separation. It is likely that the men had been informed beforehand
(some considerable time ago) that they would not remain permanently in
Gilan. But that may have been forgotten. At all events, it seems that
the reminder came as a rude shock. Still, the men were manageable.
Anything can be done with the male Japanese once his patriotism is
inflamed. But the women rose in fury. Perhaps they had not been warned
when wooed by agency. Now, belated reasoning had no effect. All those
subtle policy points, which awed the husbands even if they did not
fully understand them, were lost upon the women. What they felt was
that they were threatened with the loss of their husbands. The whole
weight of female influence was brought to bear on the men. These grew
restless. Contrary to regulations, the inhabitants of different
villages gathered together to exchange views, and soon the whole
colony seethed with discontent. The officers or headmen did their best
to reduce their subordinates to order. In vain; the women's influence
proved stronger. The men began to obstruct the preparations for
departure; punishment of the worst offenders led to open defiance. One
morning, a medical officer, going his usual rounds in a village, was
set upon by a female mob and beaten to death with stones and household
implements. The headman, rushing to his assistance, was wounded and
hunted into the bush. After that, the officers telegraphed to Kelung
and to Japan for military help.

The Government was greatly surprised. Human feelings threatened to
overthrow its careful calculations, because they had not been taken
sufficiently into account. That dangerous Japanese tendency, often
commented upon, of regarding men as machines, may be right enough
where males are concerned. In the Manchurian war it led to frontal
attacks against entrenched positions, and yet was a success. But now
that the principle was extended to women it broke down. Quick measures
of repression were necessary. Already rumours of revolution had got
abroad. Tokio side-tracked them by a cablegram, admitting the
existence of trouble in Formosa, but attributing it to rural workers
and miners who had imbibed crude notions of Western Socialism. This
was also a satisfactory anticipatory explanation as regards the
approaching comcentration of steamers in Formosan waters, which
otherwise might have attracted attention. Everybody would now conclude
that they were military transports carrying troops to the disturbed
districts.

When the punitive force arrived the men had gone back to work. It was
February, and the fields called for industrious hands. Preparations
for departure were, however, quite neglected. This passivity did not
prevent vigorous reprisals. The village which had given the signal for
murder was burnt down, and scores of men and women died by the
executioner's hand. Very soon the men, overawed by wholesome judicial
massacre, were thoroughly subdued. The great enterprise was saved at
the brink of ruin, and full attention could now be devoted to the
proceeding embarkation.

Here the marvellous organizing talent of the race had full play. A
superficial survey of the transports, it is true, would hardly have
suggested fancies of naval glory. They were tramp steamers of 2,000 to
3,000 tons, such as usually carry trade in Far Eastern seas, capable
of a steady hourly speed of ten to twelve knots. Everything had been
avoided which might have betrayed the real purpose. The exterior of
each vessel was weather-beaten and grimy, but inside the greatest
order prevailed. Each vessel could house 600 to 800 men in rough
comfort. The bulwarks had been raised about a foot above the ordinary,
which precaution gave the steamers the appearance of lying high in the
water, and would deceive even critical observers, for none could
suspect that the buoyancy was not real, and that every inch of space
had been scientifically put to the best use. Each craft was fitted
with wireless telegraph instruments and a searchlight. All were coaled
sufficient to last for the whole distance, but 3,000 tons of best
Japanese steam coal were shipped for emergencies by a steamer carrying
the latest appliances for coaling at sea. Two swift destroyers acted
as guardships and scouts. They had been cunningly disfigured to look
like small tramps without losing too much of their speed. There were
also cargo carriers and cattle boats, which sailed somewhat later.

The passage of a fleet through the Dutch Indies would have attracted
notice. For this reason the transports and subsidiaries were
despatched by three different routes, part passing between the
Philippines and Carolines, thence through Dampier Straits, and
skirting Ceram; part through the South China Sea and Sulu Sea,
rounding the east coast of Borneo, and beating east through Flores
Sea; and part sailing down West Borneo, entering Java Sea, and finding
an outlet south through Lombok Straits. The collier and one destroyer
went further west for scouting purposes, intent on passing through
Sunda Straits into the Indian Ocean. As the whole plan had been
carefully concerted no accidents occurred, but a Dutch cruiser sighted
the destroyer while coaling at sea off Batavia. It happened at
daybreak, and the Japanese vessels allowed themselves to be surprised.
Though they separated at once, suspicions had been roused already. The
destroyer steadily crept north, never revealing its true speed. Such a
clumsy-looking, slow-going craft was, however, beneath Dutch notice,
which turned to the more imposing collier. The latter boldly showed
the flag of the Rising Sun, and steered straight for Batavia Roads,
where she replenished her store of water. Her papers were perfectly in
order: "ss. Honjo Maru, bound for Perth, West Australia, with a trial
cargo of Japanese coal." Dutch misgivings, if they existed, vanished
before such information. Japanese enterprise was the talk of the day;
their coal, perhaps, had not been heard of in connexion with Westralia
so far, but everybody knew of the huge goldmines there, which might
well look out for cheap fuel.

The collier left next morning and steamed up Sunda Straits, through
which dangerous passage the destroyer had slipped during the night.
Together they swept the Indian Ocean and Timor Sea to the east.
Several proas supposed to have been in those waters never made port.
All the routes converged in Arafura Sea, somewhere between Timor Laut
and the Aroo Group. From this meeting-place the fleet made its
accurately--timed descent, under the shadow of night, on Junction Bay.
The strength of the first landing party can only be guessed at.
Probably it consisted of about 3,000 men. It is certain that it was
rapidly added to, and when the first collision between the races took
place the number had at least doubled.



Chapter III: Dancing on a Volcano



THOMAS BURT and his friend reached Pine Creek on April 6; exhausted
and dishevelled. Their news created such an impression locally that a
railway engine was placed at their disposal to take them on to
Palmerston without delay, and they arrived there about noon the
following day. The resident was away, over the Easter holidays, on a
shooting excursion. His understudy, full of the importance of his
temporary responsibility, granted them a patient hearing. When the
bald statement of invasion burst upon his comprehension, he paled
visibly. But the more the story was unfolded to his mental gaze, the
calmer he grew. It was so palpably impossible. By the time it came to
an end he had ceased to weigh its purport. Instead, he was quietly
bethinking himself who among his kind friends could have invented and
enacted this hoax. Therefore, to the surprise of his interviewers, the
Acting-Resident preserved stoic calmness. He satisfied his official
conscience by taking a preliminary record. As it was long after tea-
time when he had done, he dismissed the friends for the night with
thanks and a promise that the matter would be thoroughly investigated.

This diplomatic postponement gave the Acting-Resident leisure to
collect his wits. The result of his reflections was that he called, on
the morning of Easter Tuesday, a council of his leading brother
officials. Bitterly he rued the action. What was a bold and improbable
story when told first hand by men who seemed to believe in it,
appeared a preposterous joke when recited in a doubting, colourless
voice from depositions. It was a merry conference. The listeners tried
to surpass each other in sarcastic comments. Was it likely that two
men on a holiday trip should penetrate several hundred miles of
country only partly charted? Was not game plentiful nearer home? It
was, and so was also the opportunity of buying liquid poison from
Chinamen or low whites, or, at any rate, opium, which would account
for all sorts of raving hallucinations. What about the persons who
brought the news? Nothing unfavourable was known of the Yorkshireman.
But Thomas Burt had on previous visits incurred the displeasure of the
ruling set by his Australian outspokenness and very personal criticism
of existing conditions.

The meeting broke up when the two friends were announced. They met
with a chilly reception. Nothing dounted, they began the arduous task
over again of convincing a prejudiced bureaucrat against his will.
Such was their earnestness that he began to waver and their patriotic
hopes to rise proportionally, when an unforeseen development finally
sealed the official ear against them.

That morning, April 9, an auxiliary schooner entered Port Darwin. Its
owner, and captain of its Malay crew, was a Chinaman named Ah Ting, a
well-known identity on the north coast, along which he had been
trading for years. People regarded him as one of the few decent
Mongolians in the Territory. On several occasions he had been of some
service to the authorities, with whom he was consequently on good
terms. Yet he was never obtrusive, but went quietly about his own
business. However, it so happened that the police inspector had gone
down to the water-front after the conference, and, quite casually, he
encountered Ah Ting. He came from the East. How fortunate! Did he see
any steamers? No. Here the dignitary felt justified to mention the
strange rumours. Ah Ting laughed outright. Junction Bay, he explained,
was his last stopping-place four days ago. He searched the trepang
grounds of that neighbourhood. His eyesight, alas, must be
considerably worse than that of his white friends, for he saw nothing.
Of course they would send the fleet up. The Inspector hurried away to
parade his special information before the Acting-Resident, with the
effect that Burt and his friend were hustled off the premises, and
were told to be glad that nothing worse happened to them.

The two friends took the only course left open to them. They appealed
to the man in the street by spreading the alarming reports broadcast.
Out of courtesy they had studiously refrained from doing so before,
considering that the Resident should have the privilege of
publication. This tactfulness placed them at a further disadvantage.
For the members of the conference had meanwhile forestalled them by
giving the story from their humorous point of view. And when the
explorers came to supply the genuine version, the mythical rendering
had already been mentally enjoyed and digested. The pre-requisite of
sensation is shocked astonishment. This they had failed to rouse.
Instead, they confronted critical appreciation. This joke--to hold up
the Government, to bring about a solemn conclave of the chief bosses--
was voted excellent. Some of the audience applauded them for having
invented a new variation of an old bogey. Till then, the prophets had
always pictured a Japanese Armada sweeping down from the north and
dictating terms of equality while big guns were trained on the
Australian capitals. It was something to hear a different account for
once. Others, of a grumbling disposition, objected to being made the
victims of an April joke. Even granted that it might have been
conceived on the first of the month, still that was no excuse for
ramming it down their throats after a week's delay. In short, the
laugh had been against the warners, and from that moment all their
efforts to awake Port Darwin to a sense of the real danger were doomed
to disappointment.

Two days later the Resident returned. He was a a level-headed man,
and if he could have heard the report first-hand and could have been a
witness of the earnest sincerity in which it was delivered, things
might have gone different. Unfortunately, he heard it from the
understudy, together with Ah Ting's denial, and this combination
convinced him so thoroughly of the preposterousness of the assertion
that an interview with the two discoverers could not change his mind.

Burt and his friend were now officially hall-marked as "jokers of
promise, but whose present attempt had failed rather badly." As they
persisted in voicing warnings, the languid Palmerstonians voted them
bores, and forgot about them. So they were pretty much left alone.
They diverted themselves by keeping a close watch on Ah Ting. But
that, too, came to naught. There were no conspirators sneaking about
the back door of that worthy at night. Just as he piled his goods,
Chinese tit-bits and knick-knacks, into the front window of his neat
cottage in the main street to announce his business, even so he seemed
to wear his unblemished character in a glass case open for inspection,
with his mingled air of childlike blandness and dignified
patriarchalism. Nothing was known of his antecedents; that was in no
way remarkable, for the same can be said of all his countrymen up
north. But he had resided, on and off, for several years in the place,
and was respected even by the many-hued scum. The friends quickly got
tired of contemplating so much virtue, while painfully conscious that
their own reputations were under a cloud.

They determined to take the first steamer to the south-east. None was
due for some time. So they had plenty of leisure to study the peculiar
conditions of which they had become the victims. The fact was that
tropical Australia was suffering from a surfeit of warnings against
the Asiatic menace. Its white inhabitants had one dominant desire: to
hear no more about it. The position had been looked at from all
possible points of view, and had been pronounced hopeless from every
one. Yet nothing happened. There stretched the vast wastes of fertile
lands, uncontrolled, open from year's end to year's end, at the very
threshold of the over--crowded North. Nevertheless, only stray
individuals crossed over, mostly to repent of it afterwards. Mongols
and Malays who had entered quickly declined to the lowest levels of
degeneration. And wherever they came into contact with the aborigines,
it meant rapid, complete ruin to the latter. The vilest corruption
spread to them. The death-rate of all the coloured races was terrible.

Sometimes an enthusiast would arrive from civilized Australia, and
would talk for awhile. But nobody ever did anything. Soon the microbe
of drift permeated his blood, and he would become as languid as the
others. The white population of Port Darwin consisted of a set of
officials and of those who catered for their wants. A few shipping
agents and South Sea produce dealers constituted the independent
citizen class. All considered themselves exiles. The years rolled by,
and the procession of new faces went on, but the same stagnation
prevailed for ever. Once it had been broken when the great effort was
made, and a railway was pushed south as far as Pine Creek. As if in
revenge, stagnation had settled on that very railway thicker than
elsewhere, if that were possible. Under the law no coloured alien
could own mining rights. As the Chinese who did not subsist on trade,
vegetable cultivation or laundry work were miners, they had to rent
claims for working from the white proprietors, who received anything
above 10 per cent. of the gross yield for dummying. Such practices
naturally lead to parasitism on the one hand, to presumptuousness on
the other. Rusting mining machinery and a few cattle runs in the
interior represented the highest attainment of the white race; cabbage
gardens that of the yellow race.

It has been said that the Northern Territory was not a white man's
land. With far greater accuracy it could have been called No Man's
Land. For it is undeniable that the white inhabitants maintained their
standard wonderfully well, compared to the physical and moral
debasement of the immigrants of all other races. The truth is that it
was, and is, the land of the worker; only to the loafer is the climate
enervating. And the curse upon it was that no race ever set itself to
subjugate the soil, to force from it the richest yield by honest toil.
Up to April, 1912, the Northern Territory was really the Country of
Hope-Deferred, awaiting its conqueror, and the race--white, yellow,
brown, or black--which would first solve its problem by organizing
laborious, intelligent cultivation, was destined to rule.

Were the Japanese to be its masters? The two friends had gloomy
forebodings. Quite unexpectedly, however, their hopes revived. There
was a smart shipping agent in Port Darwin. As it happened, he
personated the Opposition, which meant that he had fallen out with the
official bosses. Also, he was occasional correspondent for a pushful
Melbourne daily. He heard the story. Probably he did not set much
store by it, but he chose, as a true Oppositionist, to differ from the
authorities. It occurred to him that if they had not reported to
headquarters about the affair, he might catch them napping. So, after
a conversation with Thomas Burt, he condensed the news into a stirring
summary, which he telegraphed to his paper. The editor on receipt was
worried by grave doubts. The sensational character of the copy
appealed to his journalistic instincts, but he was not sure whether
its publication would not offend his readers. For he catered for a
highly respectable merchant community, who might resent an attempt to
scare them which bore the stamp of impossibility. In this dilemma he
decided to bring the message under the notice of the Federal
Government. Next day the Resident at Palmerston received an official
inquiry by wire, and after the exchange of several more telegrams, he
was instructed to carry out a search. The Federal Government had come
to the conclusion that a cargo of Chinamen might have been dumped
somewhere upon the coast in evasion of immigration restrictions, as
had often been rumoured before.

Two days were spent at Port Darwin fitting the Government yacht for
the cruise. A heavy rainstrom delayed her departure for another might,
but at last she got away (April 15). All on board, from the police
inspector (who was specially entrusted with the investigation)
downwards, felt convinced that they were going on a fool's errand. The
friends had offered to accompany the party. But the captain ironically
insisted that they would not be safe if nothing should be discovered,
as his crew were only human after all. So they were compelled to stay
behind. On April 22 the yacht returned. The results of the mission
were wholly negative. According to the official report, they had
steamed along the coast beyond the longitude of Junction Bay, and had
landed at convenient points. At Junction Bay a bush fire had raged
recently; miles of forest had been destroyed, and the damage done
extended far inland. Probably it had been extinguished only by the
late rainstorm, which evidently was very severe in that neighbourhood,
for fresh water was still found near the mouth of creeks. Neither
ashore nor awash were any traces or signs met with betraying that any
landing had occurred, or that a large number of men had been in those
waters. No human being was seen, not even an aboriginal. They passed
no vessels, and only once a solitary column of smoke showed on the
horizon, far out towards the ordinary track of navigation.

The two friends were now completely discredited. They did not dare to
throw doubt on the thoroughness of the search, for fear of
antagonizing the local dignitaries still more. At any moment legal
action might be taken against them to wring part of the considerable
expenses out of them. Official scepticism had been justified so
signally that even the Opposition did not care to associate any
further with them. There was a general feeling of relief when the ss.
Changsha steamed into port, and it became known that they had booked
passage by her to the south. Her commander was, of course, duly
regaled with the sarcastic version of the story. So he was quite
prepared when his newly-acquired passengers boldly appealed to him to
swerve off his proper course for the purpose of another investigation,
and he blandly informed them that it was really carrying a joke too
far to ask that he should risk his ship and his certificate on a
dangerous coast. Thus the last hope vanished. Day and night the
friends remained on deck anxiously scanning the waste of waters, until
the longitude of Junction Bay had been left behind. Then they hid
themselves from bantering fellow-travellers in their cabin, defeated,
despairing men.

Their retirement did not last long. On the following afternoon the
outlook sighted some wreckage floating by. Further on swarms of sea
birds were noticed hovering over some undistinguishable, nearly
submerged shapes. The steamer slowed down, a boat was lowered. Those
submerged forms were found to be bodies of drowned men; of what
nationality it was impossible to say, as their features had been
largely eaten away. It was certain, however, that they were of either
Mongolian or Malayan stock. The ss. Changsha was now approaching the
wilderness of islands, intermingled with sandbanks and sunken reefs,
endangering the western entrance of the Gulf of Carpentaria. Night
fell, and she stood by awaiting the dawn. Evidently a ship had come to
grief somewhere near, and it was seamen's duty to bring relief, if it
were not yet too late. The morning revealed a wreck, driven on the
rocks behind Cape Wessel. The captain decided to go over by boat to
see for himself. Thomas Burt was permitted to accompany him. The wreck
consisted of the fore-part of an iron steamer, firmly wedged in
between the rocks. It presented a most singular appearance. The stern
of the vessel had broken off, and the sea had swallowed it. But where
it had parted from the bows the plates were twisted and rent
strangely; fragments of hull and cargo lay scattered for a
considerable distance along the line of reef; all the combustible
material was charred or scorched, and the metal showed everywhere the
peculiar discoloration which follows subjection to sudden enormous
heat. No human being, alive or dead, was discovered. Probably the crew
had escaped in the boats, which were all missing, and had taken the
most valuable cargo away, while the remainder, for some reason, had
been flung into the water. At any rate, there was no intact cargo
left, though it was possible, by turning over loose heaps of wreckage,
to gain a fair idea what it had been made up of. Quite a quantity of
modern rifle ammunition was collected, and many broken parts of guns,
some bayonets, tools, pieces of agricultural implements, shreds of
blankets and of a clothing material similar to khaki, also tinned
foods--in short, all the necessaries of life and defence for an
isolated settlement in the Northern Territory, as Thomas Burt pointed
out. Whoever the mysterious wrecked mariners had been, and whatever
might have been their intentions, it was plain that they had tried to
obliterate all traces of their misfortune. There could be no doubt
about it--the vessel had been blasted asunder deliberately by means of
explosives. The work of destruction had not been finished; why, nobody
was able to tell for certain. Was it because the supply of explosives
had become exhausted?

There were two heroes aboard the Changsha as she sped across the gulf
to make up for lost time. She arrived at Thursday Island on May 1.
Next morning Australia awoke to profound sensation. The Press sported
scareheads. At last, after the delay of a precious, irretrievable
month, the warning was heeded.



Chapter IV: Japan Explains



THE Japanese colony in the Northern Territory had been successfully
founded. Of its first period of existence and growth no official
information has yet become available. It seems that during the few
days that followed the landing of the men, stores and stock were
discharged in large quantities, and that the fleet then withdrew
discreetly, leaving the new settlers to themselves. Since white men
had witnessed the invasion, contrary to calculation, and therefore
inquiries might soon be instituted, that step was natural. Most
likely, as a further precaution against too early detection, the new
colonists left the coast altogether and proceeded some miles into the
interior, burning the bush behind, so that every vestige of its
presence should be wiped out. That, at least, is the only explanation
for the negative results of the search from Port Darwin.

Meanwhile Tokio, silent and alert, awaited developments. The triumph
of its policy depended on delay. Its subjects were all the time
establishing a moral claim and demonstrating their peaceful intentions
by patiently cultivating the wilderness. Given two or three months of
quiet possession, such marvellous progress would be achieved as would
touch the great heart of the British people, provided that it was
skilfully and gradually prepared for the revelation. The Japanese
statesmen had studied their problem well. Australia was merely a pawn
in the game, not a player. Everything turned on the reception which
the bold move would have in the United Kingdom. If it was there
accepted as a challenge, then indeed a crisis would be precipitated.
This was exactly the danger which had to be guarded against; a sudden
explosion of British national pride, which would vent itself in the
peremptory cry, "Hands off." After that, submission or armed
resistance would have been the only alternatives. Perhaps it would not
be safe to assert that Japan would not have gone to war under any
circumstances; that pushful Power owed its phenomenal rise mainly to
its courage in facing the worst and to its infinite capacity in
preparing for it. But Japan did not seriously contemplate war. Its
rulers relied on their ability to convince the English masses of the
harmlessness of the immigration, and to persuade them that the new
citizens of their Empire were not standard bearers of militant
conquest, but of patient civilization. None knew better that British
sentimentality and the White Australian ideal had nothing in common.

Fortune favours the bold. The white witnesses of the landing failed
in their warnings. April passed without alarm, and it was only in May
that the cablegrams as to the discovery of the mysterious wreck by ss.
Changsha, sent the first quivers of vague fear through the
Commonwealth. There was really nothing definite about it, as not even
the nationality of the wreck was known. Nevertheless, the Federal
Government decided to place the facts before the Imperial authorities,
together with a report of the Port Darwin rumours. This evoked nothing
beyond a formal acknowledgment, and then, it seems, the matter was in
the best way of being forgotten.

Several days later, however, the Japanese Ambassador became
communicative. Probably Tokio considered that secrecy could not be
maintained much longer, and that a voluntary statement, as an act of
courtesy to an ally, would serve its ends best. Accordingly, the
Japanese Ambassador informed the British Cabinet that the Japanese
Consuls in Australia had drawn the attention of his Government to some
rumours current there. His Government had pursued inquiries, and it
had been ascertained that, in fact, a number of Japanese had entered
the Northern Territory. His superiors regretted the occurrence and
must decline responsibility, as they had been kept in absolute
ignorance. It appeared that a committee of private philanthropists had
been formed for the purpose of relieving the chronic famine by
removing sufferers from the congested districts, and in its eagerness
it had shipped some to the wastes of the Australian North, where it
was understood they would prejudice no previous title, as the
Territory carried no settled population. His Government apologized
that it had failed to control private efforts properly so that no
overflow into the possessions of its ally could have happened. No
trouble would be spared to get at the exact facts, which would occupy
some time. Great Britain would be kept fully informed, and early
consideration would be extended to the question of how best to make
amends.

The right cord had been struck. A powerful appeal had been made to
the sentiment of the average Englishman, while simultaneously his
patriotic conceits were flattered. Famished people, frantic but
generous measures to help them, and a strong Government expressing
sorrow for any breach of proprieties which might have been committed--
to turn the scales against such facts would require a strong case
indeed. Of course, the explanations and assurances proffered could be
read in many ways. But British Ministers chose to take the most
cheerful view; their despatches to the Commonwealth reflected it, and
consequently had a soothing influence, implying, as they undoubtedly
did, that not the slightest misgivings existed regarding a speedy,
satisfactory settlement.

Some critics in the Empire were not so easily quieted, and the
central authorities might have come in for scathing condemnation if a
more convenient scapegoat had not offered in the person of the British
Ambassador at Tokio. It was indeed unpardonable that he had not had
the slightest inkling of events happening under his very nose,
according to the Japanese version. Yet something can be said in
excuse. In Tokio the high game of world-politics was, and is, played
at such a pace that it strained every nerve of the accredited
diplomats. The significance of incidents of local import escaped them
in this whirlpool of excitement. Perhaps the one who least troubled
about them was the Imperial representative, resting secure on the
loyalty of an ally. Nobody was more surprised than the dignitary
himself when he received rather curt orders to investigate the matter
on his part. But he was able to elucidate very little beyond what had
been voluntarily disclosed. The committee of philanthropists existed,
though he was sceptical about the accuracy of the date of its
constitution; and its members acknowledged their full and sole
responsibility for chartering and employing several steamers for the
transport of starving emigrants to the Northern Territory. They also
expressed hopes that they might be permitted to ship Japanese women to
join the settlers, so that "the stain of immorality might be kept from
Australia."

This last intimation alarmed the Imperial Government. It looked like
an inspired indiscretion, revealing that some definite plan had been
formed; for had the Japanese ever been indiscreet except for a
purpose? Henceforth the incident was regarded as serious. When the
Ambassador of the Mikado notified his readiness to supply more details
(May 13), he was subjected to searching examination. What London
wanted to know was why, under any circumstances, the Northern
Territory should have been selected as a dumping ground, while the
large dependencies acquired in the last campaign were only half
filled, and should, therefore, offer scope to private enterprise quite
apart from official policy. Was there not enough room for both?

But the Ambassador pleaded impossibility. Those provinces, he said,
were reserved to State control. The Japanizing process was being
pushed on there with utmost energy, if only for strategic and economic
reasons. It could not be accelerated further. What must not be
forgotten was that famine conditions prevailed to a large extent on
the continent, not only in China, as was well known, but also in
Manchuria, and even in Korea. So the syndicate of philanthropists had
endeavoured to open new avenues of relief.

This explanation was plain enough; yet it was merely the prelude to
straighter talk. Apparently the Japanese Government recognized that
delay and vagueness had been worked for all they were worth. Bold
bluff now took their place. The ally was overwhelmed with a veritable
deluge of frankness.

A point, the Ambassador said, which his Government desired to make
clear was its non-interference with private citizens in the
organization and execution of such a great enterprise. The fact was
that, in his country, everything in which the Government of the day
participated became a party issue. Political rivalries were so bitter
that it might be truthfully said that even the famine was blamed on to
the party in power. As no responsible Minister wished to prejudice
private charity in the eyes of public opponents, they were compelled
to take no notice whatever of these humanitarian efforts either one
way or another.

The Ambassador was now in a position to state that some thousand
Japanese had been landed in the Northern Territory about half way
between Port Darwin and the Gulf of Carpentaria. They were all able--
bodied men; sick or old people had been rigorously excluded. As yet no
women had been sent; the health, intelligence, and general usefulness
of the emigrants were such as would make them desirable workers
anywhere. Why had they been disembarked many hundred miles from places
where employment was probable, if they were such willing labourers?
Why was a secrecy maintained which justified suspicions that the real
object of the enterprise was seizure of the land? His Government
admitted that the committee of philanthropists must have lost their
heads to act as they did. It considered that they went practically
mad, face to face with huge numbers of starving compatriots, who were
doomed to hunger for want of an outlet, while yet uninhabited
stretches of fertile country were only a few days' sail away. Should
they obey restrictive laws which condemned them to inhumanity against
kith and kin? Or should they help their people if it could be done
without violating openly those harsh laws? As for the seizure of land,
that was hardly the correct expression, because there was nobody from
whom it could be taken. If consular reports were not mistaken, it was
free to the landless, even in the settled parts of Australia, to raise
and to harvest a crop on unused Crown lands. That was exactly what the
famishing refugees did. They were raising crops on unused Crown lands,
and did not claim the proprietorship of an acre. What they claimed was
the right to keep alive in a district where they competed against no
one and infringed on no vested interests. Surely no objections should
stand against the dictates of common humanity.

The British Foreign Secretary replied that no doubt humanitarian
draperies were convenient garments at times. Nothing could do away
with the fact that here they had a large organized force virtually
taking possession of country which had been under the British flag
well nigh a century. It appeared that peaceable white men had been
pursued and fired at. There was not much meekness in that; much more
did it look like a criminal attempt to exclude all others.

But the Ambassador protested blandly that his Government knew nothing
of blunders which the Japanese exiles might have committed. No means
of communication with them existed. Whatever might be their sins, or
crimes, there was no thought of sheltering the culprits. Let them be
brought to law and be adequately punished. However, matters might not
be so bad. Some excuse might be found for slight excesses. The
refugees were in strange surroundings, and therefore liable to sudden
panic. Perhaps, under the influence of some unaccountable excitement,
they used their rifles unadvisedly. That phase would soon pass.

Then the immigrants were all armed? Why, naturally. Official
immigrants, as well as committees organizing private emigration, were
supplied with discarded service rifles. In Korea and Manchuria that
was absolutely necessary for the safety of the settlers. And the
Northern Territory contained much game which, it was hoped, would help
to carry the colonists over the worst until the first crops would be
harvested.

He became stern then. "There are also," he continued, "lawless
characters in every country, particularly in borderlands of
civilization. To be perfectly frank, it is not the intention of my
Government to allow its long-suffering subjects to become the victims
of such. It would have been more in keeping with the traditions of my
race to let them perish at home, if they are to perish. But we are no
longer fatalists."

Perhaps the Ambassador overstepped his mark in conveying a hint of
such directness. But he wound up his explanations in the approved
style of guarded diplomacy. His Government, he stated, declined to
discuss British supremacy over the Northern Territory, because it must
regard the mere raising of that issue as an insult to Great Britain.
On the contrary, Japan, true to its alliance, was ready to employ all
its naval and military forces against any nation which should dare to
challenge that supremacy, Moreover, in proof of its own loyalty, it
was willing to waive all claims to the future allegiance of its
emigrants to Australia. No refugee had a brighter hope, or a desire
more sincere than to be allowed to live and die a faithful subject
under the British flag, which to his race was the emblem of justice.
Just as in the Straits Settlements the Chinese were made welcome and
soon yielded to none in fealty, so nothing better was asked by his
compatriots. It was quite true that his Government pleaded that mercy
be extended to starving exiles, but it had no sinister motives. In
fact, as soon as the Imperial authorities had made known their will
and taken the immigrants under their protection, the Mikado would be
glad to issue a solemn proclamation, releasing all Japanese settlers
in the Northern Territory from their dutiful obedience, and commanding
them to be loyal subjects of the King.

That was the parting shot aimed straight at the White Heart of
Australia.



Chapter V: Australia's Reply



THE flutter of excitement into which the Commonwealth had been
thrown by the cablegrams from Thursday Island relating to the Changsha
discovery, died quickly away for want of nourishment. Thomas Burt and
his friend were on the water again, bound for Brisbane. Taught by
bitter experience, they had resolved not to fritter away their
knowledge, but to keep their lips tightly shut until they were face to
face with the Prime Minister of Australia, when they would make their
great patriotic effort to gain the confidence of that statesman.
Accordingly, they refused, on arrival in Brisbane, to supply
information to the Press, leaving this to their fellow-passengers,
who, knowing of the alleged immigration only by hearsay, preferred to
confine their remarks to the wreck. The two friends continued their
journey without delay by train to Sydney and Melbourne.

In this way a few more precious days were lost to the Australian
people, who, in the absence of all confirmation, began to look upon
the matter as a paper scare. Suspicion had always been ripe that
Chinese sometimes entered the North without permission. If Japanese
coolies should now have followed their example, it was plain that the
thing could not go on much longer in this fashion, and that means
would have to be devised to close the back-door effectually. It was
the duty of Government to see to that and there was really no occasion
for alarm. Such was the somnolent habit of thought of the average
citizen of the Commonwealth right through the first third of the month
of May, 1912, until he was broken of it by an avalanche of disquieting
developments.

On May 10 the cablegrams of the morning press announced the official
Japanese admission that immigration had really occurred. It caused
general consternation. Nobody understood the purpose of this
astounding move. While the majority maintained that the admission was
a guarantee that the allied nation would assist in the withdrawal of
the undesirable aliens, an influential Melbourne daily took the
opposite view that nothing worse could have happened. After Japan, it
argued, had formally interfered, it was sure to side with its
subjects. This conflict of opinion was just arresting general
attention when the two friends arrived in Melbourne and sprang their
account, which left no doubt that an armed invasion had taken place,
upon the already anxious continent. At last they had a full triumph of
revenge. After having been slighted for so long by minor officials
they were listened to by the Prime Minister of Australia. And the
transparent sincerity of their forceful, concise report gained them
his credence to such an extent that a summary was at once made
available to the Press on behalf of the Government, thus acquiring the
character of an official communication. It created an enormous
impression. Within twenty-four hours there rose the cry, from the
shores of the Pacific to Cape Leeuwin, that the Japanese must go, and
that the insult to the Commonwealth must be atoned for. Backed up by
such unanimous indignation, the Federal Government hastened to lodge a
passionate complaint in London and to claim boldly the immediate
employment of all the resources of the Empire in support of its cause.

The appeal reached Downing Street on the morning of May 13, the date
on which the Ambassador of the Mikado chose to throw light on the
situation from his point of view. It was a combination calculated to
try sorely the patience of the Imperial statesmen. That an intrigue
had been laid with consummate skill to shatter the anti-colour policy
of the great southern dependency was plain enough. But the question
before the responsible rulers of Great Britain was how far they should
commit themselves in defence of principles of racial exclusiveness
which were not shared by the masses in the United Kingdom. Rashness
either way could only lead to disaster. For immense issues were at
stake: on the one hand, the estrangement of a proud nation whose
alliance was invaluable in Asia; on the other, fierce colonial
resentment. British interests, paramount to all other considerations,
demanded dilatory treatment of this awkward complication. Accordingly,
the reply to Melbourne and the dispatches detailing the latest
Japanese explanations were couched in reassuring terms implying full
sympathy with Australian ideals though carefully avoiding any definite
promise.

These early dispatches are remarkable for one striking omission,
which illustrates better than many words could do the infinite
capacity of the English Government for "riding a rail" during a grave
colonial crisis. While the Ambassador's statement of facts is repeated
fully and fairly enough, no mention is made of the Mikado's proposal
regarding the transfer of allegiance. It has been attempted to justify
the suppression on the ground that the offer was nebulous and that it
was merely launched as a ballon d'essai. But the true reason why this
suggestion was held back was certainly the fear that its introduction
would have provoked the Commonwealth beyond endurance and, as far as
the latter was concerned, would have put a stop to the further
employment of diplomatic means there and then.

Meanwhile, the Press was used to pour oil on the troubled waters
and, incidentally, to test popular feeling in Great Britain. That was
decidedly in favour of Japan. No daily paper of standing in the United
Kingdom had ever been critical regarding the ethics of the alliance.
On the contrary, all had applauded it from the outset and a sudden
somersault of any solid public organ into violent denunciation of the
ally was therefore out of the question. Some fiercely Imperial sheets
ventured on a gentle chiding, but on the whole the printed comments
ran on calm, superior, impartial lines and it became quickly apparent
that this moderation corresponded entirely with the present temper of
the nation. The syndicated cable service of the great Australian
dailies was conducted exclusively from London and, in consequence,
reflected faithfully the sentiments prevailing there. So it was even
in this case. After the first fulminations, there was a marked
relaxation, and leading articles appealed to the people of the
Commonwealth to curb their passions and to leave their grievances in
the hands of the British Government who could be trusted to see
justice done. In due course, cabled extracts of these well-intentioned
exhortations found their way into the English Press which paraded them
as a proof that Australia, with the exception of a few irresponsibles,
was quite satisfied to accept whatever settlement the Imperial
authorities should consider proper. And thus arose a misconception
than which none could have been more dangerous or more fatal to
Commonwealth aspirations at a time when the British mind was yet
impressionable before it had settled in a definite groove.

All soporific efforts collapsed before the march of events. On May 16
astonishing news reached Melbourne by wire from Port Darwin. A
Japanese deputation had arrived at the latter place consisting of
three members who made a dignified entry under the folds of a Union
Jack. Its mission was to pay homage to the Resident in his capacity as
chief officer of the Territory. Though the reception was chilly the
members did not seem to notice it. Two of them professed entire
ignorance of the English language. That was another master stroke of
Oriental cunning, for it left them free to spy about and to assist in
every way the third colleague, the spokesman, without exposing them to
the slightest risk of contradicting his statements. The spokesman, on
his part, made haste to intimate that he exercised no particular
authority over his comrades, and that he had not been selected for the
leadership of the party by reason of his exalted station in the
Japanese community, but simply because he was one of the very few who
understood English. Having thus plainly defined his personal
insignificance, he was by no means averse to answer questions, and his
replies fitted in so closely with the official explanations of the
Ambassador that no discerning observer can doubt that both emanated
from the same source. Above all, he protested against the description
of his compatriots as prohibited immigrants. They knew nothing about
that. Kind, wealthy men of their own race, pitying their sufferings
from famine, had helped them to leave the stricken provinces. But now
they had voluntarily adopted the nationality of the country which
enabled them to live and were willing to defend it against all comers.
To give expression to this feeling of loyalty they had travelled so
far to make dutiul submission to their new rulers. Everything in
connexion with their settlement, he said, was open to official
inspection. He could not state the total number of refugees, as they
had landed at different points and were widely dispersed. However, he
thought they exceeded two thousand. He hoped that business relations
would soon be established between them and Port Darwin.

Their solemn exhibition of humble loyalty was not to be its own
reward. The deputation pursued more practical aims. Towards the end of
the interview, the spokesman informed the Resident that he had been
charged by his compatriots to solicit a special favour. It was hoped
that the Government might soon see its way to open schools, in which
his people could be taught the language and the customs of their
adopted country, so that they might quickly become desirable citizens.
All expense so incurred would be paid for in produce after the first
harvest was gathered.

The Resident assigned an empty cottage for the use of his visitors-
in--state and demanded instructions by wire. Late the same evening
(May 16) the Federal Executive in Melbourne met in council. A great
opportunity was before it, for by a rare chance the invaders had
delivered themselves into its hands. Port Darwin being within
jurisdiction of the Commonwealth, the whole issue was transferred from
London to the Antipodes the very moment that the offenders--or some of
them--came within reach of the Australian authorities. Why they should
have done so voluntarily cannot be easily explained. Probably Japan
tried to bluff the Federal Government into some sort of negotiations
with the deputation, when it would have seized upon the slightest
signs of hesitation and weakness as evidence for British consumption
that Australia itself had recognized that the problem called for
diplomatic treatment. If so, its deep plot miscarried, for the Federal
Executive was not in the mood for trifling. Its orders to the Resident
of the Northern Territory were calculated, on the contrary, to force
the game against Tokio as well as against London.

Next morning the three members of the Japanese deputation were
arrested on a charge of shooting at British subjects with intent to
murder. Other "persons unknown" were joined under the same indictment.
But it was only the beginning. Warrants were issued against these
"persons unknown, of Japanese nationality, who had entered the country
without permission and had murderously assaulted white men, British
subjects." It was a sweeping, skilful move which did away with the
international aspect of the case, for it imputed to the refugees a
common crime to be dealt with in a common court of law. A few lines
from the department of Justice had made outlaws of all the invaders.

Everything depended now on the possibility of proving the charge. The
Federal Attorney-General decided to supervise the proceedings
personally on the spot. As a fast P. & O. mail steamer happened to be
in port in Sydney, she was chartered under pressure. The Attorney-
General, his staff and the witnesses for the prosecution, viz., Thomas
Burt and his friend, were rushed by train overland to catch her. At
top speed, the splendid liner raced to the north (May 19) and covered
the distance to Port Darwin in the record time of just under six days.

Australia was wild with joy over the energetic action of the national
Government. Even the great dailies, spoon-fed with Tory sentiments
from London, did not care to disagree and were content with some
guarded appeals for circumspection and moderation addressed to
Parliament. The Continent was now looking forward to the third session
of its fourth Parliament, fixed by Executive proclamation (May 18) to
open on May 30, 1912.

The Imperial authorities had not apprehended such rash enterprise on
the part of the Commonwealth, the limitations of which were so
manifest. It possessed no navy, and speedy land communications with
the tropical North were non-existent. The deputation incident could
not have been foreseen, of course. Still less, that it should be thus
rapidly turned to advantage in Melbourne. London resigned itself to
let the case proceed on its merits. If the arrested men could be
proved guilty, they would have to suffer the penalty for their crime.
No civilized people could quarrel about it. Anyhow, the trial would
take some time, and for this reason alone it commended itself to
British caution--Japan, too, refrained from protest. Doubtless its
statesmen had not counted on this development. But they could not deny
the right of Australia to have recourse to law, as the alleged offence
had occurred within its dominions. For once, they had played straight
into the hands of their antagonists and they had now to trust to
chance to regain the lead.

The trial lasted one day (May 27). The evidence of the witnesses for
the prosecution was unanswerable as far as it went. But the prisoners,
who pleaded not guilty, set up a stubborn negative defence. Admitting
that they were armed, they stated that the disembarkment had been
carried out from several steamers simultaneously, over a wide stretch
of beach. They had not discharged their rifles on the morning of the
landing and had not heard any shots. It was impossible to refute their
denials. The white witnesses had to admit that the Japanese were
distributed over a large distance and that they had probably not all
taken part in the assault. Identification of the prisoners as active
accessories to the crime was naturally out of the question. So the
case against the three Japanese broke down and they were released.

But they were immediately re-arrested under the charge of being
prohibited immigrants and promptly sentenced to gaol pending the
arrival of the first boat bound for the East, in which they were to be
deported. This was at best a Pyrrhic victory, for it restored the
international base of the dispute. Not that Japan contested this
special decision. That would merely have prejudiced its case. The
three men were prohibited immigrants and had gone into a trap. As for
the bulk of the new settlers, hidden away in the inaccessible bush, it
was quite a different matter. First of all, it would require some
effort to bring them to justice. In the enormity of that problem,
Oriental cunning would have a fair field to come into play.

Though foiled in one particular, the Federal Government abated
nothing of its pushfulness. A proclamation, issued (May 29) to the
people of Australia and cabled to London and to the Governments of all
autonomous Colonies, called attention to the fact that the
Commonwealth was invaded by hordes of murderous criminals carrying
arms, who had entered in defiance of the laws sanctioned by the King,
and warned every good citizen of the British Empire to have nothing to
do with them, but to assist the authorities in every way to punish and
to expel the miscreants. Supplementing the strong language, a body of
specially picked constabulary was despatched by sea to Port Darwin
(May 31). It numbered only twenty-five men, for the Federal Executive,
unable to put into the field at once an army strong enough to cope
with several thousand armed Japanese, affected to follow the rules of
ordinary police administration. Should they be defied, then the matter
passed continental confines, and Greater Britain would have to enforce
respect for its acknowledged methods of procedure. That, at least, was
the contention of the harassed Commonwealth authorities.

Both the proclamation and the threatened resort to force were
furiously denounced in the leading Tokio journals, which asserted that
there was no justification for them and that the real crime of the
helpless refugees was their nationality. Herein, they maintained, lay
a mortal insult to the Japanese race and the Government was exhorted
not to stand idly by to see violence offered to men of their own
colour. Officially stony silence was kept, but nothing was done to
curb the intemperance of the Press in its endeavours to rouse popular
passions.

The next step of the Federal Cabinet was the publication of the full
text of their cable interchanges with London, under the plea that the
sovereign people were vitally interested and had a right to know the
full extent of their danger. This piece of strategy was contrary to
diplomatic traditions and certain to hurt Imperial susceptibilities.
Its result, as intended, was a startling convulsion of Australian and
Colonial sentiment, leaving no doubt that the Commonwealth was wedded
to the principle of a White Continent and would not tolerate any
leader who did not champion it against all odds. That manifestation
was of the highest value to the Ministry at this moment for
Parliamentary reasons. It proved that the continuation of aggressive
policy was the will of the people. And the Opposition would have to
conform to it when it came to deal with the bold measures which the
Government was formulating.

This memorable session opened on May 30.



Chapter VI: A Study of British Sentiment



THE Japanese descent upon the Northern Territory had been well
timed. Over the world of white men there lingered the afterglow of an
epoch of unprecedented prosperity, of which Great Britain had had full
measure. Its ruling classes were glutted with success and its
enjoyment. Now that the outlook became less bright, their attention
was wholly engrossed in the pursuit of more profit, before the
oncoming period of depression, universally prophesied by experts. Even
the class-war was less fierce; unemployment had steadily decreased for
years; wages had been slowly rising, and the toilers' discontent was
lulled somewhat by a sense of uncommon economic stability. If there
was one wish shared alike by all England, it was the desire that an
even tenor of political development, both at home and abroad, might be
maintained. Consequently, there was a feeling of irritation when the
immigration controversy threatened to cause a disturbance.

Popular resentment, naturally, turned against the side which seemed
to aggravate the difficulties of the situation. It was there Japan
scored. Officially, it could afford to sit tight and to keep quiet,
for its secret work had been so cleverly contrived that it could now
be left to itself for a time at least. The Commonwealth, on the other
hand, was driven to desperate measures of repression. The shortsighted
demagogues and radical journalists, who dominated the English masses,
condemned roundly the colonial excitement about a trouble which
appeared to them, from their safe distance, fifth-rate at most.
Nothing the Federal Government did was thought right by these zealous
humanitarians. Its prosecution of the deputation was dubbed puerile
exaggeration. The fierce denunciation of subjects of an allied Power
in the proclamation was even taken as a reflection on Great Britain
for the company kept by it. It was not understood in the Mother
Country that the Commonwealth was acting according to the promptings
of an irresistible instinct. As creatures of the night, exposed to
sudden glare, dart instinctively for the nearest dark shelter, thus
Australia, dazed by the sudden perception of deadly danger, started
into convulsive movement. But the Commonwealth appeared to the badly-
informed millions, who in the last resort sway Imperial policy, as
responsible for the biggest part of the commotion, and this
misconception disposed them all the more to look with tolerant eyes
upon the case as presented by Japan. Tokio had prepared the way to
their overgrown hearts cunningly. It claimed no right; it merely
appealed to common humanity. And it thus flattered nicely the popular
idea of the Mission of Empire. Here they were asked to stretch forth
helping hands to humble supplicants; to elevate a race yet erring in
outer darkness, to their own level of goodness; to bestow material
prosperity on famishing hordes. Nothing could be more desirable.
Nevertheless, a handful of white settlers 12,000 miles away, hardly
visible in the surrounding vastness of an empty continent, told them
to desist as harshly as if they had no voice in the matter at all.

The English middle-classes, too, have always been moved deeply by
religious considerations. Only acute fears, real or imagined, about
the existence and growth of the Empire, could overcome their scruples
in that direction. Nobody alleged that there was any reason for
patriotic anxiety in the present development. The Japanese
explanations were modest, even complimentary. The assurance that the
immigrants craved the honour to be allowed to live and die under the
Union Jack might be said to confer an extra lustre on the grand old
flag. The ambitious request did not strike Britishers as very
remarkable after all the speculations of recent years, that possibly
Japanese soldiers would fight and die some day in defence of India for
the Empire. An allied nation, of which such high expectations had been
formed, could not be looked upon with contempt. Alas! they were
heathens still. But the immigrants, removed from the retarding
influence, one might almost say, from the bad example of the millions
still groping in darkness in their native haunts, would offer a fair
field for missionary work. Many ardent British believers thanked God
for the chance.

The economic aspect, which so frightened Australian workers, was not
understood by their comrades in the United Kingdom, who had to contend
all their lives in free markets against the cut-throat competition of
cheap labour, and who had also to put up with a steady inpour of East
and South European cheap labourers. Where was the difference? Toilers
in the Mother Country did not realize the significance of race
contrasts, because, so far, they had not become acquainted with them
firsthand. Distance and overcrowding formed a sort of protection. In
the industrial districts of Great Britain white skilled and trained
labour was so cheap and superabundant, as a rule, that the importation
of Mongolians or negroes would hardly have been a paying game. At any
rate, it had never been tried systematically. And thus British
workers, having been spared the degradation of contact with lower
races, could afford to take a lenient view. In their opinion, the
difference was only skin-deep at worst. It passed their minds why any
one should go into hysterics because a few Japs or Chinese wished to
make a living at the other end of the world, where there was so much
room for everybody.

Still, the middle and lower classes were not really antagonistic to
Commonwealth ideals. They were merely hampered by the small extent of
their knowledge and by the subconscious sense of superiority which
warps the judgment of the average Englishman in matters colonial and
foreign. Most of them regarded Australia as a kind of prodigal
daughter, whose pranks had to be borne with good-humouredly. Her
people were supposed to indulge in various irresponsible notions, and
to be very ticklish on all labour questions, to such an extent that
they had refused admittance more than once to honest Britishers who
came looking for work. (This was a Press invention, but it had firmly
taken root, nevertheless.) Of the Northern Territory, it was only
known that it was very big, very hot, very empty; a gap on the map,
yawning for population, yet not at all a white man's land.

But higher up in the social scale there were sections who cherished
grievances against the Common-wealth. The banking world and the Stock
Exchange interests belonged to them. It is difficult to define the
reasons for this scarcely-veiled hostility of British high finance.
The antipathy was based partly on sentimental grounds. Political life
in the Antipodes was highly flavoured with that democratic levelling
spirit which the wealthy classes in England had so often played with
for their own ends, and cheated of its prize every time, and which
they abhorred, therefore, with the hatred born of instinctive fear of
a vague, unavoidable retribution. In a word, Australian democracy
served as an irksome reminder of the smothered social conscience of
British wealth.

Moreover, the broad masses there had remained very independent and
ignorant of the obedient humility which the owner of riches can
personally command in the Old World. Instead, the most popular prints
were full of cleverly worded and ingeniously illustrated attacks on
capitalism, national and international. Political leaders of far-
reaching influence had echoed the contempt at times, and in several
conflicts big vested interests had not been exalted officially above
less gilded claims. There was, too, a steady current of legislation
towards the restriction of the money power. Even British Imperialism
had come in for criticism, and had been described as world-wide
exploitation for the benefit of millionaires at home, with little
regard for distant white toilers abroad. Such licence bred reaction.
But it was not so much verbal presumptions as material consequences
which high finance was troubled about. The new spirit, with its
demands for living wages, its regulation of working hours, and
restriction of cheap contract labour immigration, its inspection of
producing methods and products was threatening the profits of old
investments, and made remunerative new investments more complicated.

Capital, always conservative, does not easily accommodate itself to
great changes. Above all, it loathes supervision. In the United
Kingdom some modifications might be proper. But it had ever been
recognized that east of the Suez Canal moss-grown European
conventionalities had no currency, and that the road was left clear
there for the unfettered play of commercial genius out on the golden
quest, even as it had been in the old merchant-adventurer days radiant
with Indian memories of glory and gain. Yet now, in the very heart of
those privileged hunting-grounds, an upstart dependency dared to set
up as moral arbiter of business methods. And not content to govern
themselves in established communities, its citizens claimed control of
the whole continent, and foreclosed the tropical north against
Imperial enterprise.

Some things are only truly appreciated after they have been lost
beyond hope. The whole northern fringe of Australia had lain
practically unused for decades. Speculators in London had not
perceived the fact that it contained the makings of another India
until the definite formulation and adoption of the White Australia
policy had made the realization impossible. Then, of course, they did
not blame their own remissness, but the impudence of the colonials.
For several years a section of the British Press, prompted by
disappointed monopolists, conducted a campaign of slander against the
young Commonwealth, accusing it of undue interference with private
enterprise, and of a deliberate attempt to withhold its torrid
districts from colonization. It was ably backed in this particular by
"Little England" papers, which disliked the White Australia doctrine
just as much, though for exactly opposite reasons. Between them, they
drew a glowing picture of what the Northern Territory should be like
if, instead of new-fangled theories, the approved traditions of
Imperial colonization were followed. It was only necessary to appoint
a capable administrator, with Indian experience, and to throw open the
country to all comers. Or perhaps, as a sop to national prejudice, it
might be reserved to Imperial immigration--of all colours, of course.
Here was a chance to relieve the curse of Hindustan, overcrowding, by
transferring whole villages and tribes. The new province could thus be
stocked with a cheap, submissive, intelligent population, which would
transform it into fruitful fields. Rice, cotton, tobacco, wheat and
other tropical products could be cultivated. Railways, roads, ports
and shipping would have to be constructed, together with the hundred
other modern contrivances of trade required to distribute the wealth
of the land and to supply the needs of its settlers. And British
capital and industries would benefit. Why all these marvellous
prospects should be sacrificed for a fad, in the interests of non-
existent white citizens who could only be attracted by the certainty
of high remuneration, if at all, passed the understanding of the
average stay-at-home Englishman. As for the leaders of finance, they
could never forgive such folly. The White Australia policy robbed them
of profits which were as good as made but for its arbitrary
interference. Anything was better than the stagnation which resulted
from it. The present development was rather welcomed by the more
virulent section as a fitting retribution. And the Press, influenced
by them, began to hint that this complication could never have
occurred if the old methods of colonization had been adhered to.

The nobility and gentry of the United Kingdom shared the coolness of
the capitalists, partly for the same reasons; partly, however, because
of a special class grievance. It may be said that the proud,
democratic spirit of the Australian people represented the principle
directly opposed to the social conditions which evolved a hereditary
aristocracy. The contrast was too great to allow of mutual admiration.
All attempts to graft a peerage upon the young continent had failed
ignominiously. Some knighthoods had been granted, but it was a strange
fact that, in quite a number of cases, men who were considered to have
promising prospects before they were thus honoured fell victims to
political extinction soon afterwards. The temper of the nation was
republican in this respect. Members of the aristocracy, on their part,
had not forgotten the origin of the colony. Between its citizens and
themselves a great gulf was fixed. Their habits of thought were
divided by centuries. Neither was able to take seriously the ideals of
the other.

It has been shown that the general sentiments of the people of the
Mother Country were widely divergent at this crisis. General
sentiments, however, must not be confounded with political
convictions. Regarding the latter, their unanimity was wonderful.
There is really very little to choose between the most ardent
Imperialist and the pronounced Little Englander, when their
fundamental attitude towards colonies, particularly autonomous
colonies, comes to be dissected. That may sound paradoxical, but it is
true. Certainly, they disagree in their estimation, and, consequently,
in their policy. But these are mere superficialities. Brush them
aside, and there is revealed, at the back of the stolid British mind,
the firm belief that the continued existence of the colonies is a
benefit conferred upon them by the Mother Country. Through generations
this conception has been handed down until recently the loud clamour
of the daughter nations, for official acknowledgment of equality,
began to tear at its roots. It has been said that but for the
secession of the New England States, the idea of colonial equality
would never have been formulated. Even so, it caused genuine
consternation, though the expression was smothered in a frantic
outburst of Imperial enthusiasm, led by patriotic trumpet-calls of a
singularly united Press. This surprising unanimity should have given
of itself careful observers pause to reflect. It suggested that there
was something to be concealed, something to be held back or smoothed
over. And all the din could not dispel the silent indignation which
welled up in many British hearts. The pretensions were too enormous.
Here, on the one hand, stood a nation welded by the storm and stress
of a thousand years, by a struggle for bare existence at first, and
afterwards for domination; a nation which had shaped Empire, and still
maintained it by its sole strength. On the other hand, there rose a
group of immense communities hardly yet advanced to nationhood, never
tested in the furnace of adversity upon quality and extent of their
own resources: raw materials of Empire, in fact, boldly asking for
equality. In the background, as a dim warning, the spectre of the
American analogy was made to loom. Thus pressed, Great Britain
prepared to concede the demand with good grace. What passed far below
the smiling surface, in the subconsciousness of the toiling millions,
on whose ever-increasing exertions the grand structure is founded, was
conveniently overlooked, and might have been choked in its own
profoundness at last. But it was not given time. Japan once showed
admirable perception of approaching convulsions in the body of the
Russian colossus, and shaped its plans accordingly. Had its
emissaries, with judgment still more refined, correctly gauged the
symptoms which eddied faintly about the outskirts of Imperial
enthusiasm, and allowed for them in the intrigue? At any rate, the
spirited, high-souled part taken by the Commonwealth in the campaign
for equality had not won many sympathies in the Mother Country.

The members of the British Government stood too high, of course, to
be swayed by hidden undercurrents. Whichever party was in power, the
leaders, once the mantle of responsibility fell their way, kept one
aim steadily in mind--the greater glory of the Empire. That included
the advantage of all its constituents, and was the one continuous
policy. The second continuous policy embraced the cultivation of close
friendship with certain great Powers and particularly the maintenance
of the alliance with Japan. Probably it had never been contemplated
that there could be a clash between the two. When it did happen, the
issue, as it presented itself to the English Cabinet, was mainly a
question of expediency. Its first effort was to appease Australian
anxiety by insisting on the harmlessness of the incident. Japan,
perfectly cordial, rendered the attempt abortive by frankness. It
became, therefore, necessary to choose between the permanent
estrangement of a valuable ally and the passing temper of
dependencies. For of the volatility of colonial resentment repeated
proof existed within recent years. No change of front could be charged
against the Imperial statesmen. The doctrine of a white continent
might well be propounded by the Commonwealth, but it could not be
countenanced logically by the mistress of India. She tolerated it as
long as its victims were too feeble to raise effectual protests, and
Australia stood strong enough to enforce it. Once this assurance
failed, a full reconsideration of the position became inevitable.
Britannia could not unsheath her sword in such a cause.

Colonial friction with foreign Powers required careful watching.
Encouragement in one quarter might lead to trouble in others. Young
nations half freed from leading strings are very impulsive, and prone
to try conclusions without urgent need. The weakest point of the
immense Empire lay in the danger of a fifth-rate disturbance on the
periphery, thousands of miles away from the nerve centres, setting up
irritation which might end by convulsing the whole body. That had to
be guarded against, for the shock might bring down the nicely balanced
structure of British World Policy, the result of infinite care drawn
out over a number of years, and now heavy with promise. Japan's
continued cordial support was essential to carry the policy to full
maturity. Australian aspirations, therefore, would have to be
postponed.

It was of material assistance to the Imperial Government that the
British Parliament was sitting, and could be made the fountain-head
from which soothing and confident declarations poured forth. The
Opposition obeyed the time-hallowed custom not to create difficulties
in international affairs. Especially where Japan was concerned, the
Cabinet might be described as holding a brief for the entire nation.
As usual in such circumstances, successive questions were asked and
then pompously answered in the House. The replies were so framed that
they did not leave the slightest doubt as to the hope of the Ministers
of settling the matter quickly and quietly. Further, they indicated
that no dictation from outside would be accepted by the responsible
advisers of the Crown; that warlike talk abroad should not be
considered seriously; and that official relations with Japan were as
cordial as ever.



Chapter VII: Naval Power and World Politics



"THE supremacy of the British Navy is the safety of Australia, and
this supremacy is absolute." That was the conviction in which the
people of the Commonwealth, in spite of occasional warnings, placed
their entire trust, and with which they justified before themselves
and to the world, their shocking neglect of the first principles of
defence. But while they were somnolently enjoying the fancied
security, the world moved and Japan acted. It is easy to perceive, in
the light of later events, the real meaning of the stupendous maritime
armaments into which the Far Eastern Power launched out immediately
after the successful war against Russia. Its policy aimed at nothing
less than the creation of a war fleet, strong enough to overawe even
the Mistress of the Seas at a given date, under special conditions,
which had been foreseen by the astute statesmen of Japan, who had
fully mastered the axiom that victory, diplomatic or otherwise,
belongs to the side which can concentrate most power at the critical
point. In the present crisis they knew that they would gain all if
they could gain time. Whatever might be the extent of British
indignation at first, it did not matter as long as it was kept in
check by a sense of danger. Patriotic fervour cannot be bottled up.
The Imperial authorities would soon come to see that Japan was still
necessary to them as friend and ally. Then it might be reasonably
expected that the problem of peopling the empty Northern Territory
would be left in the hands of those best able to solve it, regardless
of the clamours of others who had shirked the question, and owned no
battleships to back them up. Tokio, indeed, had built the foundations
of its stupendous intrigue upon hard rock.

In April, 1912, Japan possessed six battleships of the latest type,
each superior to the famed English Dreadnought; another monster of yet
improved design was being equipped for sea at Nagasaki dockyard, to be
ready for service within three months. Three armoured cruisers of over
18,500 tons, with two more of 19,000 tons, rapidly approaching
completion, rounded off the strictly modern armaments. But in addition
there were the older vessels, which had given such excellent account
of themselves in the late war, and the former Russian ships which had
been captured and repaired. The mosquito fleet was far superor, both
in quality and number, to the one which had some years ago proved the
terror of the enemy. For crews the navy could draw largely, in the
event of war, upon the veterans who had braved the horrors of Port
Arthur and Tsushima, the only naval corps extant which had actually
been through battle, and was yet available for another round. That was
probably Japan's greatest, and quite unique, advantage. These old
hands would not be racked by soul-destroying nervousness if they
should come face to face with death again, a nervousness sure to play
havoc with the efficiency of adversaries who had never passed the
ordeal, courageous and well-trained though they might be. Behind the
veterans surged on the younger generation of sailors, all fired by
fanatic patriotism and by the ambition to enable the achievements of
the former, still fresh in everybody's mind, not far-off memories of
traditional feats of glory which had happened under conditions quite
unmodern. Position, too, favoured the Japanese. Sheltered behind the
length and width of the Old World group of continents, they would be
able to choose their own battle-ground, and any enemy attacking them
had to do so in their centre of power, where they could make the
decisive stand in narrow, dangerous seas, familiar only to them, and
in conjunction with coastal fortifications and submerged mines.

Great Britain's first fighting line consisted of the original
Dreadnought and of twelve battleships of a similar, improved type, and
of eight other vessels of nearly equal strength and much greater
speed, which were classed as cruisers. Four more leviathan crafts were
in course of construction, but they could not be made ready for sea
before 1913. There was also an enormous host of battleships and
cruisers of older designs, many of them superior to anything the
Japanese could oppose in those classes. In high sea destroyers and
torpedo boats England outnumbered its ally by two to one.

The naval resources at the command of the Imperial authorities
offered, therefore, material enough for a combination equal to the
task of blowing the Japanese fleet out of the water. There were,
however, several points of grave importance to be considered. The
evolution of the Dreadnought type had revolutionized the theories of
maritime warfare. Enthusiasts maintain that one vessel of her design
could sink a whole assortment of older battleships without much risk
to herself, by reason of her immense superiority in gun-fire, armour,
and speed. This opinion had been somewhat modified, but the new
principle had been left untouched, that a Dreadnought could only be
matched by a Dreadnought, but not by any number of less up-to-date
craft, the success of which, if possible at all, would depend on the
incalculable quality of leadership. Accordingly, Great Britain, to
discount the risk attendant on war, would have had to place in the
fighting line at least one more Dreadnought than Japan could bring
forward, besides providing for decided preponderance in the other
classes. That meant that twelve or thirteen of the largest and most
modern battleships and cruisers, at least twelve older first-class
battleships, as many older first-class armoured cruisers, and a cloud
of mosquito craft would have had to be despatched to the other side of
the globe, 13,000 miles away.

The proposition was impossible of execution, simply because the
portion of the British Navy remaining in home waters, after the
departure of such a fleet to the Far East, would not have been strong
enough to guarantee the safety of the heart of the Empire against the
ambitions of European rivals. Both France and Germany would have been
given the one and only opportunity for which the fiery patriots of
both nations had been waiting in vain for generations, the chance of
attempting the invasion of England with more than forlorn hopes of
success.

France happened to be on terms of close intimacy with Great Britain.
But its people looked with perfect composure at the discomfiture of
the Commonwealth, which had prevented the annexations of the New
Hebrides by the Republic, and was frankly impatient of its presence in
the South Seas at all. The warlike Gallic spirit was certainly
decaying steadily under the ever-increasing pressure on its north-
eastern frontier. Yet there was no telling that it might not be
resuscitated in sight of such a unique opportunity, either of its own
accord or under the influence of outside promises and promptings.

But even if France might be trusted, beside it rose a far more
dangerous and relentless rival--Germany. This "narrowly confined, yet
unbounded" nation, restless, unfathomable, firmly believing in its own
glorious future, lifted on the highest crest of the universal wave of
prosperity, teeming with a rapidly multiplying population, could not
be trusted under temptation. Its forward, enterprising policy was
confronted at every turn by the Empire, which had fathered most of the
desirable places of the earth before the birth of modern Germany. The
latter, therefore, had to play the part of the ambitious, ever
watchful Jacob, out after a British Esau, too cunning to barter away
his rights of primogeniture. In the immediate past Imperial diplomacy,
backed by the Japanese alliance and by the entente cordiale with
France, had outwitted Teutonic policy in several fields, and sixty-six
million Germans were still resenting the supposed humiliation. Would
they not see the finger of God in an occurrence which removed the
impenetrable naval screen from between their armies and the English
shores? Even official assurances of friendship could not have been
worth anything under the circumstances.

Germany had seven improved Dreadnoughts in active service, and two
more were so far advanced in equipment that they could be got ready
for war within three or four months. The keels of yet another four had
already been laid. There were also four very powerful cruisers, and
two more building. Its fleet of older battleships and cruisers was
maintained in a state of highest sea-worthiness, and its mosquito
craft was both numerous and efficient. The crews, like the fighting
machinery, had never been tested in grim earnest. But they were drawn
from the seafaring population, conversant with the intimate ins and
outs of their narrow, treacherous waters, and thoroughly trained. What
they lacked in tradition was richly made up for by fierce rivalry with
the army, the glory of which they did not despair to emulate and to
surpass.

The menace of this huge concentration of naval force within 500 miles
from London had to be neutralized before the Empire could risk the
hostility of Japan. A new British alliance with another great maritime
Power, if possible, might have checkmated Germany. Some openings may
have suggested themselves. There was France, for instance, still
mourning the loss of provinces forfeited forty years ago to the
Teuton. A treaty binding the Empire to assist in their recovery within
stated time--limits, as the price of immediate naval support, might
have been accepted. Unfortunately, even an Anglo-French alliance would
not have been a sure check on Germany, which might not consent to wait
until a dispute was agreeable to all parties, but might crush the
Republic under the weight of numerical superiority while Great Britain
was engaged elsewhere.

Russia had no fleet. It did not love the English, whose flirtation
with the little brown men was responsible for the collapse of
Muscovite expansion in Asia. Its army was nominally formidable, but
the task of propping up the tottering autocracy absorbed all available
energy and might have become too difficult if the German neighbour
should decide to aid secretly the transport across the frontier of war
material and explosives for the revolutionaries. Official Russia
recognized that friendly relations with the two allied monarchies over
the western border were its supreme necessity.

There remained another grand possibility: the enlistment of the
United States of America in favour of the British Empire. The Great
Republic owned a splendid navy, a large part of which, stationed in
the Pacific, could be thrown straight against Japan, while the
Atlantic squadron, joining the English home fleet, would render the
United Kingdom secure against invasion. Here was a task worthy of a
great statesman. If there really existed an Anglo-Saxon community of
interests, as expressed in the famous phrase, "Blood is thicker than
water," now was the hour to unfurl its banner in the cause of the
white race.

But America did not move. It was not forgotten that, a few years
back, when its western fringe was in danger of being overrun by an
aggressive influx of Japanese subjects, public opinion in Britain had
sympathized demonstratively with the latter. America had triumphed
over that organized attempt only by strong measures which led to the
verge of war, and it could, therefore, afford to watch quietly, as an
appreciative spectator, while similar tactics were directed from the
same quarter against an English dependency. Besides, there were other
potent considerations which inclined Washington to adhere to a policy
of masterly inactivity. Japan had set up as self-appointed Mentor of
China, and was patiently instilling a taste for the material benefits
of Western civilization into a population of 400 millions, whose
needs, once aroused, would overtax the comparatively small resources
of the teacher. Then would come the turn of wealthier nations to act
the disinterested friend towards China, to find capital for the
development of the country, and to reap, in exchange, commercial
advantages. And the United States were determined, in spite of
temporary unpleasantness, to secure the lion's share, to which they
were entitled by position and resources. To this end it was necessary
to regain the confidence of the Asiatics, who were deeply offended by
forcible exclusion from America. There was only one way of doing it:
by treating them with marked respect everywhere else, to prove that
colour distinctions did not extend beyond the border.

The British Empire was America's one dangerous competitor in the
fight for domination of the Far Eastern markets, and, therefore, to be
distrusted. Its alliance with Japan increased its influence, and a
quarrel with the ally must weaken its whole position. Great Britain,
however, was justified in quarrelling, for even hair-splitting
Orientals could hardly raise objections against its defence of a
colony by all means, fair or foul. But America had no such motive. If
it allowed itself to be drawn into an entangling alliance at this
moment, Asia would believe that it was actuated by racial hatred. And
in the end, England's refined diplomacy might foist upon the partner
all the blame for regrettable necessities, which were bound to occur
in such a controversy, and thus divert Mongolian fury and resentment
from itself. In that case it would probably succeed in keeping the
United States out of the Far Eastern trade altogether. There is no
gratitude in business or in politics.

The naval armaments of smaller friendly Powers did not count in this
crisis. Japan had chosen the right hour and the right place; indeed,
the stars in their courses seemed to fight on its side. Its
experiences in the struggle against Russia had first suggested to its
ally the evolution of the Dreadnought type, which created new
conditions in maritime warfare, and practically consigned the older
classes of battleships to the scrap heap. Incidentally, this
development resulted in a distribution of sea power, which for one
fateful moment, at a point which had escaped notice, rendered
ineffective British naval supremacy. It was just for a short time. In
the course of a few years overwhelming numbers of battleships and
cruisers of latest design would have been flying the Union Jack. But
the reflection is useless; the need of Empire demanded immediate
action, and it could not be risked.

1 AUTHOR'S NOTE.--I have been careful not to overstate the case
against British naval supremacy in 1912. According to the latest
available information, Great Britain will have 12 ships of the
Dreadnought and Invincible class afloat at the end of 1911 (quasi
official), Germany 13 (official), Japan, about 10 or 11 (European
estimate). It is, of course, recognized everywhere that England will
take steps meanwhile to prevent such an eventuality. I have assumed
that she will double her average constructive expenditure for the next
three years, though it does not seem likely at present that she will
make such a tremendous effort. Further, that both Japan and Germany
will not be able to execute their programmes fully within officially
foreshadowed time--limits, which every expert will consider a bold
assumption. The actual naval position of Great Britain in 1912 will
therefore most likely be much less favourable than shown by me.



Chapter VIII: Colonial Fancies



THE arrival at Port Darwin of the Japanese deputation, and the
public professions of loyalty to the British flag by its members,
induced the Imperial Government to communicate, without further delay,
the Mikado's offer, proposing transfer of allegiance, by official
sanction, to the Commonwealth authorities. It was the receipt of this
information, as well as tactical party considerations, which led to
the publication of all the cable interchanges. Australian statesmen
had naturally a much clearer insight into the political instincts by
which the other dependencies were swayed than into British habits of
mind. Accordingly, they forgot the vexation, which their indiscretion
must cause to the latter, in their desire to rally the sister
dominions to their side by the disclosure of the Japanese suggestion.
Nor were they mistaken in their estimation of the effect. The white
colonies, already deeply agitated by the first news of the fresh
immigration movement, stood aghast at the cool proposition that a
simple oath of allegiance to the King of England should be held
sufficient to open a passage for the brown or yellow man into the
jealously guarded reserves of the white race. Their stupor, relieved
by the energetic action of the Federal executive, made way for a
deafening chorus of applause, urging on Australia to persist in its
violent course, and calling upon Great Britain to keep its upstart
ally in his proper place.

The unanimous anxiety of the autonomous dependencies was perfectly
logical; they were all exposed to the same danger. Canada had recently
been the playground of Turanian insolence, and it was rather due to
the relentless determination of the United States than to British
endeavours, that the Japanese immigration into America had been
reduced to moderate limits. Its western seaboard, fertile and very
thinly populated, stretched invitingly directly opposite the crowded
eastern slopes of Asia. There was no guarantee that the latter might
not disgorge another unassimilative torrent of humanity upon the
shores of Columbia in the future, particularly if the idea should gain
ground that the white man was relaxing his hold. Maoriland was in a
still worse position. The "Little Dominion" had been even more
intolerant of the Asiatic than its big neighbour. Once the coloured
alien succeeded in getting a firm foothold there its own policy of
exclusion would become untenable. Perhaps South Africa appeared less
directly concerned for the moment. Its distance and isolation might
prove some protection. Troubled, however, by the indigenous negro
problem, as well as by the imported evil of a growing Indian coolie
population, it was also vitally interested in the principle that the
white man's pleasure should be the law of the universe. So the ring
was complete. Greater Britain was consolidated by common needs and
spoke with one voice.

And it pleaded moral justification. The restrictive laws of the
several colonies had all received the Royal assent. They were all
based on the same premises. Clearly, therefore, if they could be
broken with impunity in one instance, they might as well be abolished
everywhere, for all the security they would give after that. There was
no doubt that the Japanese landing in the Northern Territory was a
distinct infringement of a special act, which rendered all the
immigrants liable not only to deportation, but also to a fine or
imprisonment. But although Australia was thus concerned in the first
place, the issue did really pass continental confines. It was
Imperial, because the validity of the laws in the other colonies was
involved. For this reason, the oversea dominions did not exceed their
rights by demanding that Great Britain, as keeper of the Imperial
sword, should enter the ring in defence of their privileges.

England looked upon the question in quite a different light. It had,
of course, to be admitted that the restrictive laws had been
sanctioned. But the Crown could hardly be expected to investigate in
every instance whether the self-governing bodies, who promoted such
measure, and who were so suspicious of any attempt of interference by
the central authorities, had made sure beforehand of their ability to
carry out the clauses. A law which cannot be enforced must be bad.
Great Britain did not care to identify itself with failures. Moreover,
the colonies had their own executives, whom they could hold
responsible if scapegoats were required. People and politicians of the
Mother Country did not like being burdened with the consequences of
the shortcomings of others.

Excitement in the white dominions grew apace. At this early stage
Australia managed to keep its indignation well in check, and its
public protests, though firm enough, were comparatively free of
bombast. Both Canada and Maoriland eclipsed it in outward show of
resentment. There, even statesmen who had a reputation to lose, and
papers which were known for impartiality and moderation in ordinary
times, looked upon war as a foregone conclusion. After the collapse of
the criminal prosecution of the Japanese deputation, a paroxysm of
disappointed rage swept the two dominions, and the cry for war rose
louder and louder. Perhaps this violence was not natural. It may have
been an hysterical effort to conceal the military weakness of the
colonies, which this crisis threatened to expose to all the world, and
which could only remain secret if a patriotic panic in England made
available the formidable resources of that Power by forcing the hands
of its rulers.

But the Imperial Government was perfectly aware of its peril, and
retained its mastery at home by the judicious use of Press and
Parliament. So there was not much danger of a sudden national
stampede. All responsible men were profuse in their expression of
sympathy with the aspirations of the daughter nations. Nevertheless,
all insisted that the Japanese immigration was a local incident which
would have to be dealt with in the ordinary diplomatic way. The Stock
Exchange advanced the shares of certain cable companies in view of an
expected increase of revenue, while the hubbub lasted--a rather
facetious compliment. The colonies, however, were not in the humour to
appreciate jokes. Exasperated by the indifference of the British
people they changed their tune, and threats of war against Japan gave
way to threats of secession from England.

Unfortunately, this was not a new theme either. Great Britain was
becoming accustomed to these occasional colonial storms. There had
been so many of them of late. The Alaska boundary settlement, the
problem of foreign possessions in the South Seas, the Newfoundland
fisheries dispute, were all cases in point. Every time there had been
a furious outburst of indignation, followed by resigned acceptance of
the inevitable, under the noble plea of self-sacrifice for the sake of
the Empire. The recollection of past scares discounted the effect of
the latest sensation upon the stolid English mind, which was
influenced by the talk of war and secession, precisely as formerly, by
reports of Irish excesses. Instead of betraying fear and precipitancy,
it became more obstinate and deliberate than ever.

The root of the trouble was that the military resources of the Empire
were Imperial only in name, as they had been paid for almost
exclusively by the over-burdened toilers of the United Kingdom.
Certainly, some of the colonies contributed a small amount for the
upkeep of the navy; yet if the whole sum thus received had been lumped
up from the outset, it would hardly have been sufficient for the
construction and maintenance of a single Dreadnought. Great Britain
accepted the dole as evidence of good will, but without the least idea
that the givers should thereby become entitled to a share in the
control of the armaments, which was, indeed, the c