IN THE SIXTIES.--CHINA, JAPAN, INDIA, WEST AFRICA, AND CANADA.
The principal war in which we were engaged in the sixties was that waged
against the Maoris in New Zealand, but that demands a chapter to itself.
For the present I will confine myself to some of the smaller campaigns of
the same period which yielded several notable V.C.’s.
Towards the end of 1859 trouble broke out afresh with China, immediately
after the conclusion of what is known as the Second Chinese War. Sir F.
Bruce, the British Commissioner, while sailing up the Pei-ho to Pekin
to ratify the treaty just made with the Emperor, was fired upon by the
Taku Forts at the mouth of the river. No apologies being forthcoming, an
expedition under General Sir James Hope Grant was despatched to teach the
Chinese a salutary lesson.
The expedition, which was strengthened by a French force, was ready to
begin operations against the Taku Forts by July 1860, but owing to the
swampy nature of the country around them a halt had to be called while
the engineers set to work to make roads. These were completed by the
middle of August, and then the attack commenced in real earnest.
Under a heavy fire from the Chinese gunners English and French vied with
each other to be the first to cross the ditches in front of the forts.
Scaling-ladders and pontoon bridges were requisitioned, but the delay in
placing these in position galled a number of our men to such an extent
that privates and officers alike plunged boldly into the water and swam
across. The first to reach the walls were Lieutenant Robert Rogers, of
the 44th Regiment, two Lieutenants of the 67th, E. H. Lenon and Nathaniel
Burslem, with Privates John M’Dougall and Thomas Lane. Up through the
embrasures they all clambered, Burslem and Lane being specially noticed
as they knocked away a portion of the wall and enlarged the opening
sufficiently to enable them to scramble through, just as did Dunley at
the Secunderabagh fight.
Where they showed the way their comrades quickly followed, the while
some of the French with ladders vainly attempted to climb the walls.
At the head of the 67th Regiment came Ensign Chaplin, bearing proudly
the colour which he was determined to plant first upon the fort. He had
hardly gained the ditch, however, when a bullet struck him in the arm,
making him drop the standard. There was a brief pause while he bound a
handkerchief tightly round his wound, then on he went again, colours
raised aloft.
A French regiment of infantry was pressing forward at the same time, and
Chaplin playfully called to their colour-bearer to race him to the fort.
The challenge was promptly taken up. As soon as the breach was clear the
ensign dashed for it, and by strenuous effort forced his way inside.
Before him were Chinese riflemen and pikemen, but he cut his way through
them with his sword, and hurried on to his goal.
Suddenly a second bullet caught him, making him stagger, at which a
private clutched at the swaying standard pole.
“Hands off!” cried Chaplin vehemently, for he saw that the French
colour-bearer was now close behind him. And, pulling himself together
gamely, he made a last spurt for the summit, which he reached well in
advance of all others. In a moment the flag was planted, amid a ringing
British cheer; then the brave young ensign was seen to fall. A shot in
the leg had brought him down at last.
Seeing him prone on the ground at their mercy, the Chinese made a rush
for him, but they were luckily too late. The 67th swarmed up the hill,
and Chaplin was rescued to survive that engagement and many others, and
wear on his breast the Cross for Valour in token of his gallantry. At
the same time that he was gazetted the names of Rogers, Lenon, Burslem,
M’Dougall, and Lane also appeared, the V.C. having been bestowed upon
them for that bold dash at the breach.
The obvious similarity of the incidents makes it unnecessary for me to
more than just refer here to the deed for which Midshipman D. G. Boyes
and Captain of the After-Guard Thomas Pride, of H.M.S. _Euryalus_, won
the Cross. Their vessel formed one of the fleet under Vice-Admiral Kuper
which was sent to Japan in 1863 to demand reparation from the Mikado’s
Government for certain outrages committed. At the attack on Shimonoseki
Boyes carried the colour of the leading regiment, with Pride as one of
his colour-sergeants (the other fell mortally wounded in the thick of the
fight), and was almost the first to get inside the enemy’s stockade. That
the middy ran a terrible risk is evident from the fact that the colour
he carried was pierced no fewer than six times by musket balls.
Out in the Indian state of Bhotan in 1865 an act of remarkable daring
was performed, which brought the V.C. to two distinguished engineer
officers, Captain (now Major-General) William Spottiswoode Trevor and
Lieutenant James Dundas. In that year war broke out with the independent
Bhotias, originating in a quarrel over frontier territories in Assam, and
a British force under Major-General Sir Harry Tombs, V.C., the hero of
a little outpost skirmish at Delhi, already recorded, was despatched to
restore order.
On the 30th of April a sharp engagement at Dewangiri, down in the
south-east corner of the little hill-state, resulted in the Bhotias being
driven out of their position; but a remnant of them, some two hundred in
all, obstinately barricaded themselves in a strongly-built, loopholed
blockhouse. This little fortress, standing at the summit of a rocky path,
was the key to the position, and it was essential that it should not be
held to serve as a rallying-point for the routed enemy.
Turning to his Sikhs, General Tombs asked them to make a dash for the
walls and carry the place by storm, but, courageous fighters though they
were, they looked at the rows of deadly loopholes and stood still. They
only waited for a leader, however. With an “officer sahib” at their head,
the big, black-bearded Punjabis were ready for the most forlorn of hopes.
And they followed with alacrity when, at Tombs’ call, Captain Trevor and
Lieutenant Dundas showed them the way.
Taking the path at a rush, the two officers gained the wall of the
blockhouse unscathed, and though from every loophole came the crackle of
a rifle they began to scramble up the wall. The latter was fourteen feet
high, no mean obstacle to surmount; but they got up at last, the captain
leading, and found themselves on a level with the roof of the blockhouse.
Between the top of the wall and the roof was an opening not more than two
feet wide. Through this was their only chance of getting inside, and they
took it.
Head foremost they wriggled in through the narrow hole, one after the
other, and dropped like snakes from the thatch into the midst of the
surprised garrison. At the first discharge of muskets both of the
intrepid officers were wounded, but the Sikhs thronging in behind them
quickly finished the business. Within a few minutes the blockhouse was
swept clear.
The following year, 1866, saw us involved in trouble with a West African
tribe in the Gambia district. A punitive expedition having been organised
under the command of Colonel D’Arcy, the Governor of Gambia, the kingdom
of Barra, in which the turbulent tribe resided, was invaded. One of the
first actions in this campaign was the assault on the stockaded town
of Tubabecolong, and here Private Samuel Hodge, of the 4th West India
Regiment, behaved with such gallantry that he became the second man of
colour to receive the V.C.
When the little force reached the town, Colonel D’Arcy called for
volunteers to break down the stockade with axes. Hodge and another
pioneer, who was afterwards killed, answered the call, and plied their
axes bravely in the face of the negroes’ fire until a breach had been
made. Through this the regiment struggled, but the negroes had been
reinforced, and so strongly that they were able to beat the besiegers off
for a time.
Colonel D’Arcy relates that he found himself left alone in the breach
with only Hodge by him. Here he kept firing at the negroes, while the
big West Indian, standing coolly at his side, conspicuous in his scarlet
uniform with white facings, supplied him with loaded muskets. After a
little time the rest of the men re-formed and came once more to the
attack, whereupon Hodge went ahead again, breaking a way for them through
the bush-work defences.
To give his comrades a better chance of storming the place, he at last
ran round to the principal entrance, drove off such of the negroes as
thrust themselves in his path, and forced open the two great gates which
had been barricaded from within. Through these the West Indian Regiment
charged with their bayonets, and when they emerged at the other side of
the smoke-enveloped village they left some hundreds of negroes dead and
dying in their wake.
Colonel D’Arcy had done great deeds of valour that day, deeds which were
suitably recognised later by the merchants of Bathurst, who presented him
with a sword of honour, but he modestly disclaimed the praise due to him.
To Private Hodge, he said, belonged the chief honours of the attack, and
at the close of the action, before the whole regiment, he saluted the
proud pioneer as “the bravest man in the corps.”
By a curious coincidence it was in the same quarter of Africa that,
twenty-six years later, the third coloured man to be decorated won his
V.C. This was Corporal William James Gordon, also of the West Indian
Regiment. His act of special gallantry was to save his officer (Major
Madden) from certain death at the storming of the town of Toniataba, on
the Gambia. Gordon thrust himself between the major and the enemy’s rifle
barrels as they were suddenly poked out of the loopholes at the officer’s
back, receiving a bullet through his lungs that went within an ace of
killing him.
The other notable Crosses of the sixties were awarded for deeds of
bravery that necessitated the issue of an additional Royal Warrant to
cover deeds performed not in action but “under circumstances of extreme
danger, such as the occurrence of a fire on board ship, or of the
foundering of a vessel at sea, or under any other circumstances in which,
through the courage and devotion displayed, life or public property may
be saved.” By this special provision a brave Irishman, Timothy O’Hea by
name, a private in the Rifle Brigade, was awarded the V.C., together with
Dr. Campbell Douglas, and four privates of the South Wales Borderers,
then styled the 24th Regiment.
O’Hea’s exploit was performed at a railway siding between Quebec and
Montreal in June 1866, while he was acting as one of an escort in charge
of an ammunition van. To everybody’s alarm a fire broke out, enveloping
the car in flames and smoke. Inside were kegs of powder and cases of
ammunition, which, did they ignite, would cause a most terrible explosion.
While the others hesitated O’Hea snatched the keys from the sergeant’s
hand, opened the door of the van and called for volunteers to bring him
water and a ladder. The latter was quickly procured, and standing on this
the plucky private emptied bucketful after bucketful upon the burning
wood. It was a touch-and-go business, as the tongues of flame shot out
every now and then, coming dangerously near to the powder kegs, but O’Hea
stuck to his post and he fought the fire under.
Though the Rifle Brigade has fourteen Crosses to its credit, won in the
Crimea, in India, and in South Africa, I rather fancy that not one of
them was gained in circumstances of more deadly peril, and his comrades
were well pleased when Private Timothy O’Hea’s name went to swell the
proud list of V.C. heroes. O’Hea, it may be added, met with a sad fate in
after years. He was lost in the Australian bush, and never heard of again.
Dr. Douglas and the four men of the 24th Regiment referred to--Privates
Murphy, Cooper, Bell, and Griffiths--earned their distinction at the
Andaman Islands, in the Bay of Bengal, in May of 1869.
A small expedition had been sent thither to ascertain the fate of the
captain and crew of the _Assam Valley_, who, it had been reported, had
fallen victims to the natives. The graves of the unfortunate men were
found on the Little Andaman, but when the search party returned to the
shore they found themselves cut off from their ship by a tremendous
high-running surf.
Their predicament having been observed, Dr. Douglas with the four
privates named manned a gig and pulled in to their rescue. The first
attempt to get through the breakers half swamped the boat, but a second
attempt enabled them to save five men. On the third and last trip the
remaining twelve members of the party were safely got off.
To read the bare official account of the affair is to gain but a poor
impression of the bravery displayed by Dr. Douglas and his helpers. For a
proper understanding of the daring nature of the deed one must have seen
the immense surf rollers thundering on to the beach, and have appreciated
the very slender chances of living through the boiling waters that a man
would have if capsized from a boat. It was no ordinary rescue, and all
five nobly earned their Crosses.