Rogues of the Han River

Two accused criminals appear before a magistrate in Jemulpo in the early 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

Winter arrived early in 1891. Perhaps the temperature did not drop as low as it had in other years but this time it was colder than usual. The threatening weather caused the Korean boats that usually plied the Han River to be stored earlier than normal, which had an immense impact on trade between the port of Jemulpo (modern Incheon) and the capital.

Usually in the winter, when the river froze over, oxen were used to transport goods ― especially firewood and coal ― but an epidemic of rinderpest the summer before had decimated the cattle population on the peninsula. Coolies (porters) were the only option for moving goods but with their increased demand came increased prices. Adding to the woes of a large part of the foreign community in Seoul was the flu ― its rapid spread through the community was likely helped by the cold weather and the lack of heating fuel.

One resident in Seoul remarked, "The number of those who will breathe freer when the river opens and boats begin to run is not inconsiderable."

The extreme cold weather, however, was not the only obstacle to river travel. The countryside ― peninsula-wide ― was awash with unrest and banditry. In mid-April, the banditry plaguing Gyeonggi Province (especially in Yongin, Paju and Goyang) became so bad that King Gojong chastised his court for their inaction ― despite the widespread rumors of unrest ― and demanded they do something. No place was safe and even the Han River enjoyed a revival of piracy ― a practice of the past.

A view of Jemulpo in 1903 Robert Neff Collection

In mid-April, a group of Chinese merchants chartered three junks in Jemulpo to transport their goods ― mainly cloth and "general" cargo ― to Seoul. It is unclear, but apparently, one of the junks became separated from the small flotilla somewhere in the vicinity of Gimpo. Alone, it soon encountered a Korean junk with malevolent intentions.

There is some question as to the exact location and time ― one account claims it was in the afternoon while another claims it was at night ― but both accounts agree the Korean junk's crew of 10 men seemed intent on boarding the Chinese merchant to, presumably, plunder it. As they drew near, they pelted the merchant junk with stones but their intended victim fought back and prevented them from boarding. The pirates demanded the merchant vessel lower its sail but it refused and attempted to sail away. It was at this point that the encounter became deadly.

The pirates suddenly armed themselves with old muskets and began firing upon the merchant craft ― many of the bullets struck the sail and ripped holes in it but at least three struck the merchant's crew. Two men were slightly wounded but one sailor, identified as Yu Yeong-gwi, was seriously wounded and there was great concern that he would die.

It was about this time that another Korean junk appeared and scared away the would-be pirates. The Chinese merchant then returned to Jemulpo where the injured were treated ― possibly by one of the Western doctors in the port ― and, despite the fears and expectations that he would not survive, Yu appears to have recovered.

There was outrage in the foreign ― especially Chinese ― community. Efforts were made to arrest the pirates but it is unclear if they were ever caught.

Korean junks in the late 19th or early 20th century Robert Neff Collection

The Jemulpo correspondent of an English-language newspaper published in Shanghai described the brutal justice administered by the Korean authorities to "a fine strapping fellow in the prime of life" who had once led a band of 15 highwaymen and had terrorized the port area for several months.

One by one, the bandits were captured and immediately executed on the spot until only he remained free. According to the correspondent, the young man "had given his captors considerable trouble before he was brought to bay and overpowered in a certain cave." Once he was captured, he was transported to Jemulpo for his public execution.

According to the article:

"The wretched culprit's body had been badly mauled about already when he was taken to the place of execution. There he was thriced up by his 'top-knot' of hair, and then his hands were tied behind his back, a pole was shoved through, and by that means he was carried about the place until his shoulder-blades were dislodged, after which he was suspended the same way from a kind of gallows, and quicklime was thrown into his face, especially into his eyes. In this terrible position, he was made a target of by about a hundred militiamen, who practiced on him for some time with their muskets without seriously injuring him. It is supposed they intentionally missed hitting him fatally, to prolong his cruel pain, although by that time the victim was really more dead than alive."

Finally, after they had tired of toying with him, two shots were fired in quick succession, which struck him in the left breast and snatched what little spirit of life he had possessed. He was buried where he died ― an example to other would-be bandits or pirates.

Yet, despite the morbid display of retribution, acts of banditry ― and even murder ― persisted.

On Oct. 17, 1892, a young Chinese merchant from Chefoo (modern Yantai) named Jo Hak-in said goodbye to his family in Jemulpo and, with his pack of clothing goods on his back, set out for Seoul on foot. He promised to return the following day but it was a promise he was unable to keep.

After several days passed and he had still not returned home, his uncle, Jo Mun-gye, went in search of him. He walked to Seoul and inquired in the various city markets for information on his nephew's whereabouts but no one had seen him.

Finally, on Nov. 4, he learned that a corpse had been discovered on the southern bank of the Han River near the ferry landing ― the very ferry that his nephew would have taken to cross the river.

He went quickly to the site and discovered the corpse of his kinsman ― he had been stoned to death, the fatal blow administered by a particularly large rock. Robbery was apparently the motive for his demise as his goods were all gone. That night, as he was processing the death of his nephew, a phenomenal act of timing occurred ― a total lunar eclipse. While some described it as a "beautiful sight," to Jo it must have seemed like an omen ― good or evil was yet to be determined.

The Japanese consul urged his nationals to exercise great caution while traveling between Seoul and Jemulpo and to notify the consulate whenever suspicious individuals were encountered on the road.

The Chinese minister to Korea offered a reward of the princely sum of 500,000 cash (about $125) for the apprehension of the gang who murdered Jo. Despite the Korean monarch's demands for his government officials to eradicate the bandits and the promise of rewards, 1892 closed with Jo's murderers still roaming the countryside wreaking havoc upon all they encountered.

Although known as the Land of the Morning Calm, Korea in the late 19th century was a dangerous place for lone foreign travelers who strayed too far from the safety of the city walls. Fortunately, with the passage of time, things have changed and travelers ― even those who do not speak Korean ― are able to explore the peninsula with relative freedom from being accosted or robbed.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.