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The busy harbor of Jemulpo in the early 20th century Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection |
By Robert Neff
On the morning of Feb. 3, 1899, the residents of Seoul woke up to heavy snow. In her diary, one American woman wrote that it was "snowing like anything" and the snowflakes were perhaps the largest she had ever seen. For her, the snow was an inconvenience, but for others, it was deadly ― especially when it melted suddenly.
Along the west coast of the peninsula, the morning started out cold and beautiful but soon black clouds, pushed by sudden and powerful winds, darkened the entire sky. The bitter cold was replaced with a pounding rain and havoc was wreaked at various ports along the coast.
A correspondent for the Shanghai Mercury (an English-language newspaper published in Shanghai) described Gunsan as being "perhaps the greatest sufferer" from the sudden and destructive storm.
"[One] of the Japanese coasting steamers (at Gunsan) broke from her moorings and was driven upon some rocks and then was carried high up ashore and many hundreds of yards inland by an unusually high tidal wave. The sea rose so high that all the houses within considerable distance of the beach were washed away and two lives were lost." This seems to be at odds with another article ― purportedly based upon the same correspondent's account ― that claimed that "200 (people) were swept away and drowned by the tidal wave…"
It was undoubtedly horrendous, but his claim to Gunsan as being "the greatest sufferer" seems at odds with his description of what happened at Jemulpo (modern Incheon and the port where the correspondent lived).
"Here it raged with an awful intensity, and the seas swept up and carried away acre after acre of the wooden buildings of the natives. Many thousands of lives were lost, not to mention the vast amount of property destroyed ... a Japanese schooner in the height of the gale was sunk at her own mooring in the inner harbor. She was laden with coal. The harbor is strewn with the wreckage of countless sampans and junks, and hundreds of bodies have been washed ashore."
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A view of Gunsan in the early 20th century Robert Neff Collection |
A stone beacon ― near the mouth of the port ― was "completely swept away." It had just recently been completed and the Korean government had still not finished paying for its construction. According to the correspondent, the construction "was done without any official supervision" and upon its completion, many questioned its ability to withstand a serious storm ― the doubters were correct. The Korean government, at first, refused to pay the outstanding debt due for its construction but was forced to pay it off quickly.
Later that year, in August, another tidal wave ― presumably caused by a storm ― struck the southwestern part of the peninsula and claimed many lives as well as devastating crops.
These sudden storms and storm-driven "tidal waves" were not that uncommon.
On Aug. 31, 1881, a sudden storm of wind and rain inundated the port at Wonsan in present-day North Korea. According to a Japanese newspaper:
"High waves rolled over the Japanese settlement; and water was three or four feet deep on the floor of the houses. One of the crew of the Japanese sailing vessel Shori Maru was blown into the water and drowned."
Six years later, another storm and its accompanying "tidal wave" struck the port again claiming a considerable loss of life and property.
On Aug. 12, 1897, Jemulpo "was visited by a tremendous gale of wind" that swamped one Korean junk and broke it into "kindling wood" which was then fished out by the coolies (laborers) who carried home the pieces on their "'jiggies' (A-frames) for fire wood."
About 10 weeks later, another storm struck the region and "unusually high waves" swept 16 Korean houses from the dock area. It is unclear how many, if any, people lost their lives. The governor asked the central government "to grant some relief for the suffering families" but the request was denied on the grounds that there were no funds in the government's budget for this purpose.
Fortunately, for the survivors of the 1899 storm and the subsequent tidal wave, Emperor Gojong ― upon hearing that the land had been turned into sea ― expressed great surprise and horror. He commanded that money was to be provided for reconstruction and to indemnify the families of those who had drowned. He also instructed his court officials that, in the future, he was to be personally informed of these natural catastrophes as soon as they occurred.
Strangely, considering it was such a traumatic event, the disaster in February 1899 seems to have warranted little attention amongst the Westerners living in Seoul as I could find no references to it in letters or the local publications ― it is as if it never occurred or did not warrant even a line in a letter home.
However, a couple of years later, there was another tsunami at Jemulpo that made waves not only in Korea but also in the United States ― it is the subject of tomorrow's article.
I would like to express my appreciation to Diane Nars for her invaluable assistance.
Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.