A RAINY MARCH TO TUNG-CHOW
All unconscious that he was being followed, by two Chinamen who wished
to take his life, Gilbert walked along slowly until the end of the
street was reached. Then he turned down a side road, which led to an
encampment of British cavalry. He had become acquainted with some of
these men, and he was curious to see how they conducted themselves when
off duty.
As mentioned before in this story, many streets in China become in time
little better than ditches; and this was true of the road Gilbert was
pursuing. It was not over fifteen feet in width; and at the bottom lay
loose stones, weeds, and not a little garbage. All the houses along the
road appeared to be dark and locked up.
Half the distance to the British encampment was gained, when the young
lieutenant imagined that he heard footsteps behind him. He turned
quickly, and made out two forms approaching. As soon as discovered,
the two forms sank out of sight behind a pile of stones.
“I don’t like this,” said Gilbert to himself, and instinctively felt
for his pistol.
He was still three hundred yards from the British encampment, and not
even an outpost was near him. The sky was now blacker than ever, and
the road became so dark he could not see over a score of feet in any
direction.
Suddenly a stone whizzed past his head, coming from where he had seen
the two forms disappear. The first missile was followed by a second,
which took him in the shoulder.
“Stop, or I’ll fire!” he called out, and raised his weapon, but saw
nothing to aim at. Then came two more stones, one of which hit him in
the side of the head, half stunning him. He staggered forward, and then
fell flat.
“We have brought him down!” whispered one of the Chinamen, the brother
to the one that had been killed. “Come!” And he ran toward Gilbert,
closely followed by his companion.
The Celestials were still a few feet away, when Gilbert turned
around, and managed to get to his knees. He felt that his assailants
meant to take his life, if they could; and he was determined to resist
to the last.
He had no time to take a good aim with his pistol, but fired as rapidly
as he could; and the bullet pierced the ankle of one of the Celestials,
causing him to drop down with a roar of pain. Then the other, Chow
Ching, leaped upon him, dagger in hand.
To this day Gilbert cannot explain how he escaped the deadly blow which
was aimed straight for his heart. But escape it he did, the keen blade
merely burying itself in his clothing. Then the young lieutenant fired
a second time, but this shot took no effect.
It was now a hand-to-hand contest; and, leaping up, Gilbert caught the
Chinaman by the throat, at the same time trying to catch the man’s
wrist with his other hand. On his part the Celestial aimed blow after
blow at the young lieutenant, one striking Gilbert in the hip. But this
was of small consequence, and at last Gilbert had the wrist secured;
and he gave it such a powerful twist that the dagger dropped to the
ground.
[Illustration: IT WAS NOW A HAND-TO-HAND CONTEST.]
“Help me!” cried Chow Ching to his companion. “Help me, Tung, before it
is too late!”
“I cannot. I am wounded,” groaned Tung.
The talk being in Chinese, Gilbert could not understand a word of it.
But he realized that the second Celestial would take a part if he
could; and, consequently, he began to drag Chow Ching up the road, away
from the fallen Tung.
But Chow Ching, if not extra strong, was wiry; and presently he gave a
twist, and freed himself. Then he leaped back to where the dagger had
fallen, and secured the blade. Gilbert’s pistol was not far away, but
in the darkness the Celestial did not see it.
Footsteps were now heard approaching; and presently two tall English
cavalrymen hove into appearance, each with a drawn sabre.
“What’s the row ’ere, Hi want to know,” demanded the one in advance.
“Help me!” answered Gilbert. “I have been attacked by two Chinese
assassins.”
“Give yourselves hup!” roared the second cavalryman. “Hif you don’t,
Hi’ll fire!”
But Chow Ching had no intention of giving himself up; and, dagger in
hand, he made for the nearest building. Instantly both cavalrymen
fired their pistols at him; but, if he was hit, he gave no sign. He
disappeared behind the building; and, though Gilbert and the Englishmen
hunted for him half an hour, he could not be found. It may be as well
to add here that the young lieutenant never saw Chow Ching again.
While the hunt was going on, the soldiers had kept their eyes on Tung,
who still lay groaning in the roadway. The search over, a guard was
called, and the Celestial was made a prisoner. When examined, he said
that Chow Ching had told him that Gilbert was the murderer of Chow Fun.
He was sent to the rear, and later on placed in the prison at Tien-Tsin.
The adventure had given Gilbert all he wanted of roaming around in the
dark alone; and, after that, he stuck close to camp, excepting when
duty called him elsewhere.
“You must be careful,” said Captain Banner again. “We’ve lost officers
enough already. At this rate, there won’t be a handful of us left by
the time we reach Pekin.”
Although the night had looked like rain, the sun came up clear and
strong on the following morning; and by ten o’clock the heat was
almost unbearable. The march was resumed, the Japanese and Russians
having gone on ahead.
“Where to now?” asked Gilbert.
“To Ho-Si-Wu, and from there to Matow,” answered Captain Banner.
“And how far is that from Pekin?”
“About twenty-eight miles. But I understand we have still the worst end
of the road to travel.”
“To move ahead in this heat is well-nigh impossible,” went on Gilbert,
as he stroked the perspiration from his brow with the side of his
finger. “Poor Kelson is knocked out, and Ramsey says his head feels as
if it had fireworks inside of it.”
“Then Ramsey had better go to the rear, or he’ll be knocked out, too.
That will leave us with but seventy-nine men. I must say I feel rather
queer myself,” continued Captain Banner. “My stomach is very weak.”
“You had better take it easy yourself, captain,” was Gilbert’s sober
comment. “I must say you look as if you were fixing for a fever.” And
in this surmise Gilbert was correct; for Captain Banner was struck with
tropical fever on the arrival of the troops at Ho-Si-Wu, and had to be
sent back to the hospital at Taku by boat.
This left Gilbert in command of Company A,--a position he was proud to
assume, although regretting exceedingly that his fellow-officer was
not to participate in the assault on the Chinese capital. The young
lieutenant took command in his own quiet way, which at once won the
respect of all under him.
“Sure, an’ ye desarve the position,” said Dan Casey. “None of the b’ys
has fought harder nor you.”
“I think you have done your share of fighting, Dan,” replied Gilbert.
“If you keep on, you’ll come out a sergeant at least, and perhaps a
lieutenant.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind being a sergeant, captain; but, as fer a
lieutenancy in the rigulars, I’m afraid it’s beyant me. If it was the
volunteers, it might be different. I’m not from West P’int, ye know.”
“And neither am I, Dan. And there is always room at the top,” concluded
the acting captain of Company A.
Ho-Si-Wu having been occupied without serious opposition, the Allies
marched straight for Matow, and from that unimportant town through
Ching-Chia-Wan to the walled city of Tung-Chow, popularly known as the
gateway to Pekin.
The opposition on the way was much less than anticipated. As before,
the Japanese and Russians kept in advance, with the other troops on
the right and the left. At various points the Chinese had thrown up
strong intrenchments, and all their fortifications were ready for use;
yet they generally fled after firing one or two rounds from rifles and
cannon.
On the last two days of the march the long-threatened rain came down in
torrents, covering the already muddy roads to the depth of six inches
with water and slime. In this storm some of the transportation wagons
lost their way; and for two nights Major Morris’s battalion slept out
in the field without covering of any kind. Of the transportation wagons
which became lost, three took a side road running directly into the
Chinese camp; and these would have been captured by the enemy, had not
some sharpshooters of the Russians discovered them, and turned the
drivers back.
It must be confessed that some of the soldiers were much disheartened,
for the wearisome march was beginning to tell upon them. They
could scarcely drag one tired leg after the other, and had to be
urged forward constantly by their officers. They were willing--nay,
eager,--to fight; but to drag along mile after mile through rain and
mud, with the thermometer standing at a hundred degrees in the shade,
was something for which nobody had bargained.
And yet all felt that the advance upon Pekin must be made as soon as
possible. The foreigners congregated in the compound of the British
legation were being subjected to a constant bombardment by the Boxers
and Chinese troops; and, if the legation fell, it was certain that
every man, woman, and child would be killed, and perhaps horribly
tortured. Four hundred and fifteen people were pent up in the compound;
and it was being defended by three hundred and four marines and
eighty-five volunteers, all under the general command of Captain Poole,
of the British army. Every entrance to the compound was strongly
guarded; and barricades of sand and salt bags, boxes, casks, and dirt,
were everywhere in evidence.
In the mean time the attack on the foreigners had lasted for many
weeks, and the greater part of the foreign settlement in the Tartar
City of Pekin was in ruins. This embraced the legations of the various
nations, schools, hospitals, hotels, and some very costly residences.
Looting went on by day and night, and the torch was applied on every
hand. With the foreigners, provisions ran low; but all they could get
from outside were a few melons. Yet, to a man, they resolved to die
rather than to give up.
With the missionaries in the compound was the Rev. Mr. Wells, the
gentleman mentioned in Larry Russell’s letter, a devout man who had
spent much of his life among the Chinese. In an early fight at the
American legation the missionary had been struck by a bullet in the
left arm, and he now carried that member in a sling. But he was just as
enthusiastic as the rest about holding out, although praying night and
day that relief might be no longer delayed.