THE BOMBARDMENT OF TIEN-TSIN
The first half of the month of July was a busy time for all the allied
forces operating in and around the foreign section of Tien-Tsin.
In round figures the Allies did not number on July 10 more than sixteen
thousand effective men. How many Boxers and Chinese government troops
there were to oppose them will probably never be known, but they
certainly footed up to forty or fifty thousand.
The enemy were located in the walled native city, where they had over
fifteen thousand troops and four heavy guns; across the Pei-Ho, where
they had several field-pieces, with more coming up every day; and on
the great plain to the west of Tien-Tsin, where it was feared that
an army was forming so vast that the Allies would be swept out of
existence by the mere force of numbers.
The bombardment of the foreigners continued almost night and day; and
property to the value of millions of dollars was destroyed, including
many ancient and beautiful buildings which can never be replaced. The
regular railroad bridge over the Pei-Ho was already gone, and the
pontoon bridges erected were subjected to such a constant and accurate
fire that to cross any of them involved a great risk. On one of these
bridges a Hong Kong English detachment was caught, and almost cut to
pieces.
The bombardment called for many deeds of daring; for communications
with Taku were kept open only with the utmost difficulty, and the
re-enforcements coming up had literally to fight their way through
miles of hostile country to reach the real battlefield. All telegraph
wires had been cut, and the engineering corps could not repair them
until the fall of the native quarter of Tien-Tsin was almost assured.
There was a great rivalry between the English, Russians, and Germans
over the control of the railroad; and many were the trials made for
opening the line to Tongku, the Chinese ripping up the rails almost as
fast as they were put down. Two locomotives were stationed near the
battered round-house, and one day some Russian troops went out to man
them. The detachment divided into two parts; and, while one engaged the
attention of the enemy, the other leaped aboard the engines and several
box cars, and went off at the best rate of speed of which the old
locomotives were capable. As soon as the Chinese discovered what was
up, they trained their guns on the locomotives, and nearly knocked one
off the track. Nevertheless, the rolling stock was saved; and to-day
the engines are running on the Taku-Tien-Tsin line as before the war.
During the first days of the bombardment the Allies suffered greatly
for the want of siege guns. The majority of the troops had come from
the Gulf in the notion that they were to march directly upon Pekin,
with the guns to follow later on. Only the Japanese had a few small
pieces, which could not reach the larger pieces of the Chinese.
But all this was changed with the coming of some British artillery,
guns which had done duty in South Africa against the onslaughts of the
plucky Boers, and which were appropriately labelled, “From Ladysmith
to Pekin.” These guns were stationed close to the west wall, where the
Chinese artillerists could not see them; and they were aimed by the
aid of flag signals from the top of Gordon Hall.
On the morning of July 9 it was felt that the position regarding
communications with Taku was growing critical. The Chinese were well
planted with their guns on the north bank of the Pei-Ho; and their
troops on the western plain were gradually circling southward and to
the east, in order to reach the other bank of the stream, thus cutting
off the Allies’ connection with the outside world.
“Something is up to-day, sure,” remarked Captain Banner to Gilbert.
“The Chinese are enfilading our twelve-pounders, and the British
gunners can’t hold their position unless relief is given.”
“I see that our marines are getting ready to move,” replied the young
lieutenant. “I wish we were going with them. I am tired of doing
nothing but guard duty.”
“Don’t fret. We have still plenty of fighting before us,” was the
captain’s reassuring answer.
Early that morning a detachment of the Allies, including a hundred
American marines, with two thousand Japanese, English, and Russians,
marched to the Taku gate of the outer city, and then down the bank
of the Pei-Ho. They soon came in sight of the Chinese force on the
plain; and a battle at long range started, lasting for several hours.
Gradually the Chinese were forced around to the West Arsenal, and then
they fled. They were pursued by the cavalry; and a party of six hundred
Boxers were cut to pieces almost to a man, the Japanese horsemen riding
over them rough-shod. In this fight the arsenal was captured, also
four field-pieces, and over a score of Chinese banners, including the
dreaded head-spear flag of the Boxers. A head-spear flag is one of
black, mounted on a bamboo pole, topped with a human skull.
Gilbert’s company was stationed close to the river still, and was
under more or less fire all the time. The pickets often indulged in
“sniping,” as it is termed; and many a Boxer who exposed himself
was laid low most unexpectedly. But the Chinese also did some
sharpshooting; and the soldiers soon found it expedient to keep out of
sight of the enemy, even at long range.
The weather was most disagreeable. When it was not raining, the sun
shone down with the fury of a fiery furnace; and, during the middle of
the day, working at anything was out of the question for all but the
Japanese, who never seemed to mind the heat in the least. What these
little men from the Mikado’s domain could do and endure was a constant
source of wonder and astonishment to the rest of the Allies. “They are
the backbone of this whole movement,” said Gilbert; and Major Morris
agreed with him.
“They used to jeer at the Japanese, just as they jeer at the Chinese,”
said the major. “But Mr. Jap is all there every time.”
It was not until several days later that Gilbert managed to get away,
in order to call again upon Amos Bartlett and his family. He had heard
of a serious fire in that neighborhood, and wondered if it had reached
the tea-merchant’s residence.
He found the house untouched, although in much disorder, with the wreck
of the back porch and the fallen tree still littering the enclosed
garden. The fire had found the huge warehouse; and a back addition had
been consumed, while the contents of the main building had suffered
much from smoke and water.
“I am glad to see you, lieutenant,” said Mrs. Bartlett, as she shook
him by the hand. “You said you would do what you could for us, and now
I wish you to do me a favor.”
“Anything I can do, I’ll do willingly,” was Gilbert’s prompt reply.
“But how is your husband?”
At once the smile that had come into Mrs. Bartlett’s face for a moment
faded away. “He is not doing so well,” she said lowly. “He does not
seem to be able to get back to his right mind. And the fire has set him
back, too.”
“What does the doctor say?”
“He says it is a peculiar case, and that my husband must have rest as
much as medicine. But how can he have rest here?” And the woman wrung
her hands.
Jennie Bartlett now appeared, and also shook hands. She said her father
had heard Gilbert’s voice, and wished the young officer to come to him.
“Be careful of what you say to him,” whispered Mrs. Bartlett. “He is
easily excited, and excitement is the worst possible thing for him.”
“I will be careful,” answered Gilbert, and followed her into the
sick-chamber. He found Amos Bartlett lying on a wide bed in the centre
of the room, and the Chinese servant was fanning him. The sufferer
looked years older than when Gilbert had seen him before.
“So it is you, Pennington?” said Amos Bartlett, in a strangely
unnatural voice. “I am glad to see you. I have been wanting to talk
over that Importing Company’s affair with you. We have millions at
stake, and--”
“Amos, please do not speak of that now,” interposed Mrs. Bartlett,
soothingly. “I am sure Lieutenant Pennington will wait until you are
better.”
“Yes; but, Viola, Ramsey Polk is a black-hearted swindler. He would
ruin us all, sweep away our millions, and leave us beggars. And the
fire, too! We shall be penniless, starving in the streets! Pennington
can save us. I have thought it all over. He must fight a duel with
Polk; and, being a soldier, he can easily run his man through. And
then--ah, then we will be saved! Is it not an easy plan, Pennington?”
And the sufferer turned his white and haggard face to the young
Southerner.
Gilbert started, for he had not anticipated such a turn of affairs.
Clearly, Amos Bartlett was out of his head, perhaps on the verge of
insanity. What should he do? He looked at the sorrowful faces of the
wife and the daughter, and that decided him.
“Mr. Bartlett, everything is all right,” he said, as he took the sick
man’s hand and held it. “Ramsey Polk will be brought to justice without
my staining my hands with his blood. He cannot touch what belongs to
you, and what is coming to me will soon be in my possession. So you can
afford to take it easy, and not bother your head about these matters.”
At these words Amos Bartlett stared again at Gilbert. Then his eyes
fell. “You are sure of this? Sure he cannot make me a beggar?” he
muttered.
“Yes, I am sure.”
“And that fire? The warehouse was full of valuable tea. They will not
let me get up to see how much damage was done.”
“The main warehouse was not touched, so your loss will not be heavy.
Just take it easy for a week or so, and everything will straighten
itself out. I have got Polk where I want him, and I know what I am
doing.”
“Thank you, Pennington. You are a wonderful young man. And we shall not
be beggars! I am so thankful, for the sake of my wife and Jennie!” And
here the sufferer fell back exhausted, closed his eyes, and went off
into a doze.
Mrs. Bartlett motioned Gilbert out of the room; and he followed her,
on tiptoes. “Is it not awful?” she burst out, when the door was closed
behind them. “What shall I do? What can I do?”
“I don’t know of anything, excepting to keep him quiet. Has he been
this way long?”
“Ever since the fire. Every shot near the house seems to affect him.”
“Then he ought to be removed from Tien-Tsin.”
“But would that be safe? I understand every boat coming or going on the
river is under fire.”
“That is true. But I think this bombardment will soon come to an end.
More of our troops are arriving, and we will soon make an attack on the
native city in force. Once we have cleaned out that section, I think
the whole Chinese army will retreat toward Pekin.”
“I trust the relief comes soon,” put in Jennie. “This cannon-firing
day after day is enough to drive one mad! And to have poor papa down
sick--” Her throat choked up, and she could not go on.
Gilbert was affected, but did not dare to show it. “I am sorry. I will
do what I can for you,” he murmured, and gave her a look which meant a
good deal. Then he turned to the mother. “What favor did you wish of
me?”
“I wanted you to ask at the consulate for a marine or two to guard the
warehouse. Ever since the fire the looters have been out in force, and
I am afraid that what was not burned will be stolen.”
“I will do what I can in the matter. And is that all?”
“I wished to find out about getting to Taku. If the bombardment grows
worse, we cannot remain here.”
“Would you care to remove to Gordon Hall?”
“If my husband was not sick, I would go. But that would be no place for
him; and the hospital would be still worse. If we could get him down
the river in secret, that would be best of all.”
“Then I will find out for you when the next large boat goes down to
Taku, and what the chances will be of getting through without harm.”
“If you will do that, lieutenant, I shall be very glad,” said Mrs.
Bartlett. And then she added in a lower voice, “I am sorry that you,
too, are disappointed.”
“How do you know I am disappointed?”
“You were in hopes that my husband was better, and could give you more
information about Ramsey Polk. Is that not so?”
“To tell the truth, it is. But--well, we will drop that now, and hope
everything comes out right in the end.”
The Bartletts wished Gilbert to wait and have some refreshments; but
his time was limited, and he soon took his departure. As he hurried
back to camp, he fell into a brown study.
“Matters don’t look as bright as they did,” he soliloquized. “Even if
Mr. Bartlett gets well physically, his mind may be affected; and in
that case his evidence in my favor won’t count. And, if he gets down to
Taku and Nuggy Polk finds him, that rascal will probably do all he can
to worry the poor man to death.”