Much had now been done towards ensuring the safety of European life and property in the North, but much yet remained to do. To begin with, the fate of the Legations in Pekin was still unknown, and all the last runners to get through were the bearers of more and more hopeless messages, which contained prayers for a speedy relief; and as the safety, or rather want of safety, of the Ministers had been responsible for every move on the part of the Allies, it will be seen that, even apart from political considerations, and they were many, the relief of Pekin was now a matter of the greatest importance; in fact, it was merely the end to which all other operations had been the means. The Taku Forts had been taken, not because a rising at Tientsin was feared, but because it was necessary to have a base resting on the sea, from which supplies and men could be sent to Admiral Seymour, who, of course, had the safety of the Ministers almost solely at heart, when he at first commenced his splendid but unavailing attempt to reach the capital.
After that first success, we have seen how Tientsin settlements were attacked by the enemy, and how, after a gallant defence, they were relieved by the column from the forts, who had been reinforced from Port Arthur and Hong-Kong. Immediately after—in fact, at the same time as all this was taking place—we have followed Seymour’s march and ultimate retirement, and the relief of Tientsin brings us to his relief, which followed on the next day. Then comes the second siege of Tientsin, with its extraordinary aggressive defence, during which all outlying Chinese arsenals and positions were stormed and taken, until at last Tientsin city alone remained. This stronghold itself was attacked and fell, and there seemed likely to be a prolonged rest on both sides, for it had already been proved that to advance on Pekin with anything but an overwhelming force was useless, and it may be confidently asserted that the Chinese would not have resumed offensive tactics for some time, on account of extreme exhaustion—the word being used in the sense in which it is applicable to an army, rather than in its physical meaning. But all the operations had taken time, and during the month that had elapsed from the commencement of the war, troops were hurrying from Kiel, Marseilles, Spezzia, Fiume, India, the Philippines, Japan, and Port Arthur, and a number of these had already landed at Taku.
It became evident that the sailors’ work as infantrymen had finished, and they once more found themselves employed as “Handymen,” mounting two 4-in. Q.F. on field carriages, getting junks ready for the army, unloading lighters, doing all the fatigue work—in fact, tidying up, so that the soldiers might have a flying start. This kind of thing represents the dregs of active service, but the men had the satisfaction of knowing that they were going to be represented by six guns and a battalion of marines, and they worked to such purpose that it may be doubted whether any army corps has ever landed to find such a perfect preparation, or their initial task in such a nearly finished condition. As many men as could be spared went down to their ships to recruit their health for the fortnight before the advance was to commence, but a company were shortly recalled to Tientsin, and received orders to construct a battery on the south face of the settlements, to ward off a possible attack from the south-westward, where it was reported the enemy were massing in great numbers. Work was commenced on the night of arrival, and by the next evening, by dint of much labour, the following guns were in position, ready for use: seven 6-pr. Q.F., three 9-pr. M.L. field guns, three Maxims, and a five-barrelled Nordenfelt. It might be termed a scratch pack, but such was their position, that they were capable of holding off any number of infantry, and might have successfully dealt with artillery up to three thousand yards.
The first British troops to arrive were the 7th Rajputs, and some of the 1st Bengal Lancers; they caused a great impression by their soldierly bearing, and were eyed with curiosity by the other European soldiers. After them came Sikhs, Bengal cavalry, Madras pioneers, and Baluchis, all of whom impressed the onlooker as preferable allies rather than antagonists. The troops of other nations were quickly on the scene, and Tientsin gradually became a huge camp of armed men. The life was not an unenjoyable one; fresh food in plenty was again obtainable, the native hawkers came back in small numbers with fruit and vegetables, and in the evenings two bands played for about an hour. There was also a prospect of some perfectly quiet nights, which had been the great exception for some time past, and which remained in the prospective stage even now, for the mosquitoes worried one more than the sound of a rifle or shell fire; and while one can get used to the latter evil in but a short time, it is next to impossible to accustom oneself to the attacks of myriads of the former, whose bites are irritable for days. An interesting piece of work was the discovery and reclaiming of Seymour’s 9-pr. M.L. guns, which had been thrown into the river during the retirement. They were found in an arsenal inside the city when it fell, and were dragged back in triumph to the settlement, where they were painted Khaki colour and placed on the steps of the Town Hall, which they still adorn. It is not to be supposed that the troops had an easy time; they were constantly drilling, the horses were being got into condition after their voyages, portable filters were made from congues and sand and charcoal, the former being obtained and prepared—in fact, everything possible was done to ensure a start at the first moment that the Allies’ numbers would reach the required total, said by some to be 25,000, by others 40,000 at least. The British went a long way ahead in the matter of junks, for they secured a junk yard with about eighty new junks in it—an extraordinary capture, considering the way in which other nations usually forestalled us in matters of this sort. As a matter of fact, only about half the junks were available for use, owing to the fact that they, being new, opened their seams and sank immediately they were floated; however, the ones which had been taken on the river provided ample accommodation for the British contingent. The work of collecting junks off the river was a task not looked forward to by either officers or men, consisting, as it did, of turning whole families out into the banks, from what had been their sole living place; but the orders were to get junks, and empty ones are not found floating about in war-time even in China. One certainly was seen floating by itself, and, being of a suitable nature and size, it was immediately boarded. It was, however, tenanted by eight corpses of people who had met violent deaths,—and was therefore allowed to go on floating. Sights like this, and others yet more horrible, were only too common, and it is not to be wondered at that the “junk parties,” as they were called, were glad when their labours finished, and a sufficient number had been collected.
The allied Commanders usually met every day to discuss their plans, and to fix the probable date of starting, when an event happened which altered all existing arrangements. A message arrived, which again urged the necessity of the utmost despatch, or it would be too late. This, at least, showed that things were fearfully critical inside the Capital, and it found a responsive echo in the Commanders’ breasts, so that it was decided to leave Tientsin on August 5th, which date was afterwards altered to the 4th.
Of course the advance had been preceded by a reconnaissance to ascertain where the enemy intended making his first stand, to discover his numbers, and to make him, if possible, disclose the strength of his position. This had all been done by the Japanese on the 21st of July, and when at last the little army moved out of the settlement, it was felt that everything possible had been done to ensure the success of the enterprise.
When the relief force had left, the troops in the settlement, consisting of Japanese, Indians, and a few Americans, French, and Russians, and a small Naval detachment, still had plenty to do; scares began again immediately, and a new system of defence had to be arranged. The British were busily employed in perfecting the south battery, and all the other nations were working at similar tasks.
The lines had been greatly enlarged since the fall of the City, and included all the space enclosed by the mud wall, which encircled the native City as well as the settlements, and which was held by Japanese at several points on the right bank of the river—notably at the Taku gate and the Hi-Kuan-Su arsenal. The suburbs on the other bank were held by the Russians, who also occupied the flanking forts to the north-westward, as far as, and including, the Hsi-Ku arsenal.
Down at Taku the utmost activity prevailed. The 6th U.S. cavalry disembarked and proceeded to Tientsin, but were not able to join in the advance, owing to the condition of their horses; the Italian Bersaglieri also landed, and shortly arrived in Tientsin. They looked workmanlike and smart, and their rate of marching was really astonishing.
Another thing which occupied a good deal of attention at Taku was the completing of two 4-in. Q.F. guns on improved carriages of Captain Percy Scott’s original design. These eventually turned up too late, and although they were sent to the front, they were never brought into action.
News was received from the front by field telegraph, but a more certain way was getting it first-hand from the midshipman in charge of the “Barfleur’s” steam Pinnace, who had orders to keep touch with the army, to bring back sick and wounded, and to keep the river clear for the peaceable passage of junks. This involved plenty of hard work, during which one young officer got a bad touch of sunstroke and was sent to hospital; but another took his place, and the excitement and responsibility served to make hard work seem very pleasant.
For the benefit of those readers who, not understanding what a “manned and armed” boat is, and who might reasonably be inclined to think that an unarmed boat would be useless and even dangerous, it must be explained that the boat carried a 3-pr. Q.F. gun in the bows and a Maxim in the stern, which would have enabled her to hold off any inconsiderable parties of the enemy who might be met with.
As bad luck would have it, the boat drew too much water for the upper reaches of the river, so that it was impossible to go much above Yangtsun; she was also very slow, and when no longer able to communicate with the army, the need of her services soon ceased.
One incident occurred at this time which showed the true feeling of some of the Foreign troops towards the British. Just above the English settlement was a pontoon bridge, guarded and worked by a French picket, who were always extremely obstinate about opening it after dark. One night the steam pinnace came down from Yangtsun about one o’clock, with, as usual, several sick and wounded on board; and on hailing the picket and asking that the bridge might be opened, the officer met with a flat refusal. He replied that it was a case of necessity, as there were men who might die for want of assistance on board; but a corporal replied: “Oh yes, you’ve always got wounded, haven’t you?” Rather angry, the English officer replied that he would report him to his superior officer in the morning, whereupon he was told that he better go and do it himself, and that he might stay on the other side of the bridge all night unless he opened it himself. This he attempted to do, but the heavy planks, which had to be drawn from side to side, proved to be too much for him and the two men, which were all that could be allowed out of the boat. At last he demanded that if assistance was not forthcoming in two minutes’ time he would destroy the bridge by throwing the planks into the river, which would have to be replaced in the morning. Beyond oaths and gesticulations, no reply was vouchsafed from the other bank, so, at the expiration of two minutes, over went number one plank after a great struggle. Terrific gesticulations and fearful oaths, followed by another refusal to the demand for assistance, led to the disappearance of plank number two, leaving only number three. This appeared to sober the corporal somewhat, and he, with four men, crossed the remaining plank and dragged it over, leaving just room for the boat. Of course the officer and bluejackets embarked, and told the Frenchmen to get to their side of the river over the boat; but this led to such a storm of abuse from them, who had evidently imagined that the British in their turn were going to replace the plank, that the watch was again requisitioned, and, at the expiration of the same interval of time, the boat went ahead, leaving two of the five in safety, two in the water, and one cursing on the wrong side of the river. Representations were made to the proper authorities next day, and not only was a new bridge, capable of more easy manipulation, built, but on subsequent passages the officer of the boat met with nothing but civility.
A similar unpleasantness occurred to the first midshipman of the boat—only on this occasion it was with the Russians, and diplomacy, instead of high-handed dealing, in this case gained the day. The same argument about right-of-way began one day, and it was not until several hours had been wasted that the boat was allowed to pass. Determined that this sort of thing should not happen again, the midshipman, on his next arrival at Tientsin, obtained an imposing-looking blue envelope, and having filled it with bulky papers, wrote the Russian General’s name on it. Once more there was the same difficulty, but after a lot of trouble the soldiers on guard brought an officer who talked just enough English to understand what the envelope purported to be. He was immediately all politeness, and begged that he might have the supposed despatches, which he would forward immediately; but, as they were not despatches at all—and even if they had been, the officer might have forgotten to open the bridge after all—the midshipman, while thanking him for his kindness, begged him not to press the point, as he had had the strictest orders not to let them out of sight until safely delivered. The bridge swung open, the boat passed through, and so most probably did the “despatches,” which were flung into the river when out of sight.
Three or four days after the army’s departure, the most extravagant stories went round that 40,000 Boxers with guns were coming to attack the settlement in a day or two. But few people believed this effort of some one’s diseased imagination. It must be owned, however, that another exodus of natives took place, many of whom were notably faithful to their European masters, and who had in the past risked much for their sake. At any rate, so persistent did the rumours become, that it was decided to send a reconnaissance out to the south-westward to gain some idea of their truth. Accordingly, a force of cavalry—chiefly Americans, but partly Indian—was sent out to discover what truth there might be in the matter.
They rode for seven miles without seeing any enemy, but, on approaching some villages at this distance, a heavy fire was opened on them from Rifles and Jingals, and it became certain that the villages were held in force.
It was noticed, however, that there were no Imperial troops among the enemy, who showed no signs of organisation, though even a horde of well-armed peasants would be able to make things very unpleasant for cavalry in a village; and having discovered what was wanted, the force retired to Tientsin. During the retirement one of the American horses took fright, and threw its rider heavily, who lay stunned within short range of the enemy, and, had it not been for the presence of mind of Lieutenant Gaussen of the 1st Bengal Lancers, who rode back, picked him up, and carried him to safety, a regrettable incident might have occurred. On the night of the reconnaissance several shots were fired into the Hsi-Ku arsenal by snipers, and a Japanese sentry was killed: shots were fired at other points also, and it was clear that the enemy were going to pursue their old sniping tactics if left in the vicinity. Therefore, acting on the news which had been gathered, a little expedition was determined on, the results of which might be expected to clear the neighbourhood altogether of any enemy. The strength of the force was about 1,500, consisting of 700 Indian infantry, 200 Japanese infantry, 500 of the 6th U.S. cavalry, 100 Bengal lancers, and two guns. The movement was meant to be a secret, but details leaked out, and, as the Naval Brigade were so small, they found, to their disgust, that they had been left out. However, they were represented by two officers, who simply appeared to “happen” upon the troops as they started, and who attached themselves as non-official gallopers to the staff. The men of the Brigade were told that they were much too valuable to be thrown away as infantrymen, but the sailors refused to see things in that light, arguing that, having borne the brunt of the campaign, and having suffered some four hundred casualties, they ought to be allowed to see the thing through. The plan of action was that the guns and infantry should turn the Boxers out of each village in turn, and that every time an opportunity occurred, the cavalry should charge them as they fled. The first part of the programme was carried out perfectly, but the second part failed in some degree through an extraordinary mistake on the part of the American cavalry, who, on being ordered to charge, dismounted and poured in a singularly ineffective fire from their carbines, probably accounting for twenty men where they might have accounted for two hundred. The Bengal lancers, few as they were, rectified the error to some extent by executing a brilliant charge, in which one hundred and eighty of the enemy were slain. The ground was almost perfect for cavalry work—a long flat sandy plain, intersected here and there by ditches, but so shallow that the majority would be little more than a foot in depth—and the only excuse the Americans could urge would be that either the order was misunderstood by them, or that their training has been on the lines of mounted infantry.
The day ended in the utter rout of the Chinese, and in the destruction of seven villages, which further forwarded the work of decentralisation. The Allies’ total loss was under fifty; that of the enemy possibly four hundred. Several prisoners were also taken and brought back to the settlement, where they were tried by a mixed tribunal on two or three charges. Some were executed, others released, while the remainder became servants in the different barracks, and performed any odd jobs which required attending to. This absolutely ended any fighting around Tientsin, and the work of the troops in garrison gradually got lighter and lighter, until affairs reached the verge of boredom. The heads of departments had plenty to do. For instance, four nations started field-force post-offices, which, by-the-bye, were largely patronised by stamp-collectors; and the governing of Tientsin city also took much careful consideration and management.
It was wonderful to notice the difference in the place since it had fallen. The streets were positively clean in places—no dead bodies, no obnoxious smells, any number of inhabitants, not even any looting. All this made the place almost unrecognisable. The extreme easiness of duty, and the fact that time began to hang heavily on the hands of officers and men, were responsible for the more energetic spirits beginning to look around them for some pastime which would afford both amusement and exercise.
In the course of conversation with civilians it became known that the autumn Snipe were now in, and that good bags of Longbills might be made in the vicinity with a little trouble. The primary trouble of finding the birds was obviated by one of the officers of an Indian regiment, who had noticed a likely marsh while out on the aforementioned reconnaissance. This proved to be only about a mile and a half outside the lines, and as the whole district was now absolutely quiet, several officers took advantage of the opportunity to not only keep themselves fit, but to replenish the larder with good fat Snipe, which were a most acceptable change for breakfast after a somewhat protracted course of the everlasting sardine. Every afternoon several guns visited the marsh which had been the scene of one of the earlier combats, and in addition to bringing back sometimes ten or twelve couple of birds, such articles as rifles, jingals, and sword bayonets were frequently added to the bag. How enjoyable it was to be killing, or even frightening, something a little less imposing when in the bag than human beings; and how absurd it seemed to be once more using a 12-bore instead of a rifle or 12-pounder on the actual ground which only a month ago was strewn with the bodies of men who had fallen in action! Needless to say long practice with the one weapon had not improved one’s shooting powers with the other, but it is interesting to record that the last shot fired at Tientsin was a peaceable one excepting only those occasions on which the Allied troops, tiring of fighting no one, turned their weapons on each other. At last, just as August ended, the first part of the Naval Brigade returned from the front, which proved to be the beginning of the end for the senior service.