Golf on Gulanyu in 1897

Bill Brown .... Xiamen University

Watson, Alfred T., “Badminton Magazine of Sports and Pastimes, Vol. V, July to Dec. 1897”, Longmans, Green and Company, London, 1907

A Foursome at Amoy By Surgeon T.T. Jeans, R.N.

The news of the match quickly spread through the Club, and the fact that any strangers should be confident of beating the Amoy fellows on their own links seemed to afford considerable amusement. Men uttered mysterious hints about the difficulties of the links, and in answer to our requests for information, they would say 'Bunkers? oh, the usual kind of bunkers. Greens? Greens? did you say? Oh I the usual kind of greens,' and nothing more could we extract. …

'They can't be much worse than the Malta links or the moats at Haslar,' I told Reggy reassuringly… After the race week we took o ne of Jardine's steamers for Amoy, Hardly had the Customs people boarded us before Rusby bounced on board and took us to Kulung-su Island-the foreign settlement.

Next morning we walked out to the links, passing through the small Chinese village, in which we saw a man in stocks outside his own shop-a punishment, probably, for having given short weight. As we were climbing a steep incline covered with stubbly grass and strewn with boulders, I saw Calderson throw down his bag of clubs and take a look round. 'What's the matter-done up already?' I asked him jokingly. 'No,' he answered, diffidently, ‘only we've got there.' ‘Got there I' I exclaimed; 'got where?' But it was unnecessary to ask, for he was already kneeling down and scraping a little dry sand into a heap and trying to make a tee. I looked round, and dotted in among huge boulders-planked down among innumerable concrete native graves-were several familiar red flags hanging limply in the morning calm. There was not a space of clear turf within sight, and what the greens were like we could conjecture only too well.

I caught Reggy's eye; we both looked sadly at each other, and then at our numerous drivers and brasseys, both recognising simultaneously that they were practically useless here.

The first green was on the near side of a wall which apparently separated two large graveyards, and was the only spot not covered with graves or stones. • Never saw anything like this before,' whispered Reggy, and I noticed that the other two were smiling at our astonishment.

There is a little hotel close by much favoured by American missionaries, and sending our coats, &c. in there, we began playing.

Calderson drove off with an iron; the hole was not more than eighty yards away, and his ball dropped dead about two yards the other side of the flag. 'That's just the place,' said Rusby, screwing his face into a comical expression of half apology, half satisfaction. 'Don't you fellows get away to the right, or you'll lose your ball.' I followed, and, using my driving cleek, of course managed to cut the ball, and away down the hill it went. Reggy gave me a look of inexpressible scorn, and trudged after it, his long legs being very useful in negotiating graves and tombs. He called me plaintively a minute later, so down I scrambled after him, to find that he had discovered the ball nestling up to an inscription stone, and had lofted it into a dead bush about two yards away-the only vegetation, dead or alive, for thirty yards. I hit blindly at it with a very heavy iron, and away it went, falling not two feet from the hole in a tuft of thick grass. 'I once got out of Haslar Moat in half an hour with that club,' I remarked, when I had seen the ball dead. Reggy was dumb founded; so was I, but climbed up with a reproachful look at him. Rusby followed, but did not hole out, and we finally halved that hole in four. A putter was quite useless on that, or, as it turned out, on any of the greens; so we followed our opponents' example and used either an iron or niblick, the latter being probably the more effective.

From the next tee we could see the flag on the shoulder of a hill about one hundred and twenty yards away, and Rusby, with a cleek, landed on the near side of the slope, clear of all obstacles.

‘Just in the right space,' he said, waiting for it to stop rolling, and with that same half-pitying air which he had shown before. ‘Don't go past it, whatever you do.' Now Reggy imagines that if he is good at anything it is at judging a drive, and nothing will prevent him from using a driver. I knew perfectly well that the distance was not long enough, and, though I advised• him in the most diplomatic manner, his favourite driver circled round his head, and away spun the ball over the hill, out of sight. 'You won't find that ball again,' the others said sympathetically; and we didn't, though Reggie insisted on us all spending a futile ten minutes searching for it.

The third green is on the edge of a cliff, the further edge overhanging the sea. Fortunately for us, Calderson did not loft his stroke sufficiently, and the ball had so much pace on after touching the ground that it rolled over the cliff, despite the ridiculous contortions of little Rusby, who was following its flight with his eyeglass tucked into his eye and his whole body bent back, as if he could thus arrest its course. Luckily we holed out in nine, making timid little approach shots, and finally taking five on the green, so unaccustomed were we to their peculiarities. Score: one all.

The fourth is the long hole-right out of sight over a sloping shoulder of rock, the hole itself being on the top of a mound surrounded by nearly vertical sand-bunkers. Our directing mark was a large boulder, and Reggy drove so carefully that he struck it, the ball rebounding and rolling downhill into a mass of loose rocks. Needless to say, we lost that, as well as the next-a short hole, situated on a very sloping green, only to be approached by dropping the ball on a small plateau immediately above it-a feat I did not accomplish, but sent it bounding downhill to the right.
'I do wish you wouldn't use that idiotic iron,' Reggy muttered. 'If you'd only stick to your driver, we might have a chance.' We did that hole in sixteen. Score: two down.

The sixth is the short hole, and Rusby implored us tragically not to go to the right, or we should lose our ball in a cow-yard about three hundred feet below. 'Follow me,' he said kindly, and sent his ball spinning down, right out of sight. 'Just as I told you,' he said, not the least perturbed. 'We'll give you that hole; if you don't get in the same place.' Reggy didn't, and the score was one down.

As we climbed up the rocks to the next tee, they tried to cheer us. I First few holes a bit tricky, if you're not accustomed to them; but you'll make up for it at the next two-ripping good holes-more your style. Eh! Calders?' 'Rather,' Calderson agreed, 'awful sporting holes.' They were. The tee was on the turf-covered top of a big rock; the green on the side of a hill, the slope of which was covered with mandarins' graves. Between the two were three paddy fields, a ditch, a road-along which numerous coolies were tramping-another ditch, and a sandpit scooped out from the hill.

‘Drive right past the hole, and keep to the left,' was the advice Calderson gave us, as his ball, hitting the side of the hill, trickled gently down on to the green. I followed, and, though going again to the right, saw to my great relief that I had gone past the sand. A little dangerous,' Rusby muttered; and, even as he spoke, the ball came rolling down nearer and nearer to the danger. A grave arrested its course for a moment, but it ran down the side, and, gaining impetus, rolled over the edge.

Reggy, consigning golf, and my golf in particular, to other climes, trudged after it. 'You'd better go too, old chap,' Rusby said; 'it's rather an awkward bit:

When I reached the ball, Reggy had just driven it further into the sand. He turned red in the face with fury in his eyes, his remarks not being fit for print. 'What price the moat at Haslar?' he said sarca.stically, when we had played ten and given up the hole. I was too much annoyed to answer. By good fortune we won the ninth, and the score for the first round was two down.

A waiter from the hotel now brought us drinks, and also found three boys to carry our bags, so we started the second round in better spirits. We lost the first, but won the next two. At the fourth I made a very lucky drive, laying my ball dead close to the green, and, Reggy clearing a patch of sand, we won that hole, standing six all. Reggy lost the next by his persistence in using a driver and through excitement, and I lost the cow-yard one by again badly cutting my ball for the fourth time that morning. Score: two down and three to play. Rusby, leading off across the valley, drove into the road, and hit one of two inoffensive coolies carrying a pig. A good drive of Reggy's won us that hole.

The match was now very exciting. Coming back over the road I got in a fair drive, and, Reggy following by a lucky niblick shot from the corner of a grave, we won that hole.
Score: eight all and one to play.

The last hole is a short cleek or iron shot downhill, but a good lie off the green is impossible. My shot landed on a big boulder, and disappeared among some graves. As luck would have it, Calderson topped his ball, and it went among a large heap of stones, my caddy, a fat boy, who took great interest in the game, giving a grunt of satisfaction. .After a long search our ball was found in an open grave among crumbling bones. We shouted for instructions, and removed it, counting one, and played our third on to the green. 'Not so bad,' said Reggy; ‘they're up in the rocks.' Even as he spoke there came a shout of 'Fore!' and we saw Rusby's fat little figure climb rapidly to the top of a rock, screwing his glass into his eye as he followed with swaying figure the flight of his ball. Plump! it came, not two feet from the hole. Calderson, never so cool as when everything depends upon his stroke, holed out with his next, and on the match.

We had a rattling good time at the Amoy races, where we made up for our previous ill-fortune. Afterwards, at Hong Kong, if any of the fellows chaffed us at the result of our Amoy game, Reggy would burst out with, 'If those infernal Chinese would mend their ancestors' graves, instead of fooling round joss-houses and worshipping them, we should have won.' And he still considers that he has a. real grievance against the whole race.




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