Transcriber’s Note.
The original spelling, hyphenation and punctuation has been retained.
An exception is the change of “shell‐fire” to “shell fire” in Contents,
Chapter II.
THE LAND OF THE BOXERS
[Illustration:
CAPT. PELL CAPT. PHILLIPS COL. O’SULLIVAN
LIEUT. STEEL GEN. BARROW GEN. SIR A. GASELEE, K.C.B.
COMMANDER‐IN‐CHIEF AND STAFF OF THE BRITISH FORCES IN NORTH CHINA]
THE
LAND OF THE BOXERS
OR
CHINA UNDER THE ALLIES
BY
CAPTAIN GORDON CASSERLY
INDIAN ARMY
WITH 15 ILLUSTRATIONS AND A PLAN
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1903
_All rights reserved_
TO
THE OFFICERS
OF THE
AMERICAN AND BRITISH
NAVAL AND MILITARY FORCES
IN CHINA
PREFACE
Written many thousand miles from the ever‐troubled land of China,
with no opportunity for reference, this book doubtless contains many
errors, for which the reader’s indulgence is asked. The criticisms of
the various armies are not the result of my own unaided impressions,
but a _résumé_ of the opinions of the many officers of the different
contingents with whom I conversed on the subject.
My thanks are due to Sir Richard Harrison, K.C.B.,
Inspector‐General of Fortifications, who served with the Allied Army
which captured Pekin in 1860, for his courtesy in permitting me to use
some of the excellent photographs taken by the Photo Section, Royal
Engineers.
THE AUTHOR
LONDON, 1903
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
FROM WEI‐HAI‐WEI TO TIENTSIN
Our transport—An Irish _padré_—Wei‐hai‐wei harbour by night—The
island by day—The mainland—On to Taku—Taku at last—The allied
fleet—The famous forts—The Peiho River—The Allies at Tong‐ku—The
British at Hsin‐ho—The train to Tientsin—A motley crowd of
passengers—The country _en route_—A historic railway station
_pages_ 1–16
CHAPTER II
TIENTSIN
The foreign settlement—The Chinese city—The linguists in the
Anglo‐Indian army—The Tientsin Club—A polyglot crowd round the
bar—The English Concession—The famous Gordon Hall—The brawls in
Taku Road—Dissensions among the Allied troops—The attack on the
Royal Welch Fusiliers’ patrol—The siege of Tientsin—Scene of the
fighting—Accuracy of the Chinese shell fire—Soldier life in the
streets of Tientsin—Tommy Atkins—Peace and War—The revenge of
Christianity—The “railway siding incident”
_pages_ 17–33
CHAPTER III
THE ALLIED ARMIES IN CHINA
The German expeditionary force—Out‐of‐date tactics—Failure of
their transport—Their campaigning dress—The German officer—The
French troops—Improved training and organisation of the
French army—The Russians—Endurance and bravery of the Russian
soldier—Defective training—The Japanese army—Its transport system
in China—Splendid infantry—The courage of the Japanese—Excellence
of their Intelligence Department—Its working—The East sown with
their agents—The discipline of the Japanese soldiers—Their
bravery in action—Moderation in victory—Friendship for our
sepoys—The American troops—Continental criticism—The American
army of the future—Gallantry of the Americans at the capture of
Tientsin—General Dorward’s praise—Friendship between the American
and British troops—Discomfiture of an English subaltern—The
Italians—Holland’s imposing contingent—The Indian army—A revelation
to the world—Indian troops acting alone—Fighting qualities of the
various races—The British officers of the Indian army—Organisation
of an Indian regiment—Indian cavalry—Loyalty of the sepoy
_pages_ 34–63
CHAPTER IV
PEKIN
To the capital—The railway journey—Von Waldersee’s introduction to
our Royal Horse Artillery—The Temple of Heaven—The Temples of the
Sun and Moon—The Centre of the Universe—The Chien Mên Gate—Legation
Street—The Hôtel du Nord—Description of Pekin—The famous walls—The
Tartar City—The Imperial City—The Forbidden City—Coal Hill—The
Ming Pagoda—The streets of Pekin—A visit to the Legations—The
siege—Pekin mud—A wet day—A princely palace—Chong Wong Foo—A visit
to the Forbidden City—The Imperial eunuchs—Seated on the Emperor’s
throne—His Majesty’s harem—A quaint notice—A giant bronze—The
Imperial apartments—The Emperor’s bedroom—The Empress‐Dowager’s
pavilion—Musical‐boxes and toys—Her Majesty’s bed—The Imperial
Garden—The view from Coal Hill
_pages_ 64–94
CHAPTER V
RAMBLES IN PEKIN
The Peitan—Defence of the Cathedral—A prelate of the Church
militant—A gallant defence—Aspect of Pekin after the
restoration of order—A stroll down Ha‐ta‐man Street—Street
scenes—Peddlers—Jugglers—Peep‐shows and a shock—A dancing
bear—Shoeing a pony—The sorrows of a Pekin shopkeeper—Silk and fan
shops—A pottery store—A market‐place—A chaffering crowd—Beggars—The
Legation wall—Visit to the Great Lama Temple—The outer
gate—The first court—Lama priests—Rapacious beggars—The central
temple—Colossal statue of Buddha—The lesser temples—Improper
gods—Photographing the priests—The Temple of Confucius—A bare
interior—A visit to a Pekin _cloisonné_ factory—Method of
manufacture—Deft artists—Firing—The enamel—The humiliation of
China—The standards of the victors
_pages_ 95–114
CHAPTER VI
THE SUMMER PALACE
Our ponies—The ride through the streets—Evil‐smelling lanes—The
walls—The shattered gate‐towers—The Japanese guard—The taking
of the City and relief of the Legations—The paved high‐road—A
fertile country—The villages—A ruined temple—Bengal Lancers and
Mounted Infantrymen—A ride through the fields—Distant view of the
palace—The ornamental gate—The entrance—The sepoy guard—The outer
courtyard—Bronzes on the temple verandah—A network of courts—Royal
Artillery mess in the pavilion that had served as the Emperor’s
prison—The shaded courtyard—Officers’ quarters looking out on the
lake—A marble‐walled lake—Lotos—Boats—A walk round the lake—The
covered terrace—The Bersagliere guard—Pretty summer‐houses—The
Empress’s temples—The marble junk—A marble bridge—Lunch in a
monarch’s prison—The hill over the lake—A lovely view—The Hall
of Ten Thousand Ages—Vandalism—Shattered Buddhas—The Bronze
Pagoda—The island—The distant hills—Summer quarters of the British
Legation—The ride back—Tropical rain—Flooded streets—A swim
_pages_ 115‐132
CHAPTER VII
A TRIP TO SHANHAIKWAN
A long journey—The junction at Tong‐ku—Mud flats—A fertile
country—Walled villages—Mud forts—Defended stations—The
canal—Tong‐shan—The refreshment room—The coal mines—Hills—Roving
brigands—Shanhaikwan—Stranded at the station—Borrowing a
bed—Hunting for a meal—A Continental café—Spatch‐cocks—A woman
without pride—A mosquito concert with refreshments—Rigging up a
net—A surprise for the British and Russian station officers—A
midnight introduction—An admiring Russian—Kind hospitality—Good
Samaritans—The Gurkha mess—Fording a stream—A Russian cart—The
Great Wall of China—Snipe—The forts—The old camp—The walls of the
city—On the cliffs by the sea—The arrival of the Japanese fleet—A
shock for a Russian dinner‐party—The sea frozen in winter—A cricket
match—Shooting snipe on the cricket pitch—Dining with my Russian
friends—Vodki—Mixed drinks—The wily Russian and the Newchwang
railway—Tea à la Russe—Heavy rain—The line flooded—Cossacks on a
raft—Cut off from everywhere—An orderly of the 3rd Bombay Cavalry—A
sowar’s opinion of the Russian invasion of India—Collapsed
houses—Friendly scene between Japanese soldiers and our sepoys—The
floods subside—The return—Smuggling arms—Lieutenant Stirling, D.S.O.
_pages_ 133‐168
CHAPTER VIII
OUR STRONGHOLD IN THE FAR EAST
HONG KONG AND THE KOWLOON HINTERLAND
Importance of Hong Kong as a naval and military base—An
object‐lesson of Empire—Its marvellous rise—The constant menace
of famine—Cause of Hong Kong’s prosperity—Its geographical
position—An archipelago—Approaching Hong Kong by sea—First view of
Victoria—A crowded harbour—The mainland—The Kowloon Peninsula—The
city of Victoria—Queen’s Road—The Shops, hotels, banks—The
City Hall—The palatial club—The Brigade Parade Ground—The base
Commissariat Officer, Major Williams, I.S.C.—The Naval Dockyard—Sir
Francis Powell, K.C.M.G.—Barracks and Arsenal—The Happy Valley—A
_memento mori_—The polo ground—Lyeemoon Pass—The southern side
of the Island—The Peak—The cable tramway—View from the Peak—The
residential quarter—The floating population of Hong Kong—The
sampans—Their dangers in the past—The rising suburb of Kowloon—The
Hong Kong regiment—The docks—The Chinese city of Kowloon—Street
scenes in Hong Kong—Social amusements of the colony—Society in Hong
Kong and Kowloon—The Kowloon Peninsula—Danger to Hong Kong averted
by its possession—Character of the peninsula—The frontier—The
Chinese territory beyond it—The taking over of the Hinterland
in 1898—A small campaign—The chances of a land invasion of Hong
Kong—The garrison of Hong Kong—Advisability of mounted infantry
_pages_ 169‐201
CHAPTER IX
ON COLUMN IN SOUTHERN CHINA
A camp on the British frontier—Fears of outbreaks in Canton—The
Black Flags—Alarm in Hong Kong—General Gaselee’s troops diverted
to Hong Kong and Shanghai—His authority among the Allies weakened
in consequence—Wild rumours in Canton—The reform party in the
south—The Triads—Rebellion in the Kwang‐tung province—Admiral
Ho—Troops despatched from Hong Kong to guard the frontier—The
Frontier Field Force—Its composition—The departure of the column—A
picturesque voyage—An Imperial Chinese Customs gunboat—The Samchun
River—War junks—Our first camp—Admiral Ho’s army—Consternation
among the Chinese troops—They march away—No official maps of the
Hinterland—A Customs station—Britishers in danger—Chinese‐made
modern guns—A false alarm—A phantom battle—Chinese fireworks—A
smart trick at the storming of the Peiyang Arsenal—A visit
to Samchun—A game of bluff—Taking tea with a mandarin—Round
the town—Cockroaches as a luxury—A Yankee Chinaman—A grateful
escort—Terrified Chinese soldiers—An official visit to a
mandarin—Southern Chinese soldiers—The Imperial troops in the
north—A real alarm—A night raid—A disappointment
_pages_ 202‐230
CHAPTER X
IN THE PORTUGUESE COLONY OF MACAO
Early history of Macao—Its decay—A source of danger to Hong
Kong—Fleet of the Hong Kong, Canton, and Macao Steamboat
Company—The _Heungshan_ and its passengers—Guarding against
piracy—Macao from the sea—An awkward Chinaman—The Boa Vista
Hotel—View over the city—The Praia Grande—Around the peninsula—In
the Public Gardens—Administration of Macao—A night alarm—A
mutinous regiment—Portuguese and Macaese society—A visit to
the Governor—An adventure with the police—An arrest—Insolent
treatment of British subjects—Redress—An arrest in Japan—Chinese
gambling‐houses—_Fan‐tan_—The sights of Macao
_pages_ 231‐255
CHAPTER XI
A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
Hostility of Canton to foreigners—The scare in 1900—History
of Canton’s relations with the outer world—Its capture and
occupation by the English and French—The foreign settlement—The
river journey from Hong Kong to Canton—River scenes at Canton—A
floating city—Description of Canton—The streets—A visit to the
shops—Feather workers—Ivory carvers—Embroidery shops—Temple of
the Five Hundred Genii—Marco Polo among the gods—The prison—The
_cangue_—Insolent prisoners—Chinese punishments—Death of a Thousand
Cuts—The Temple of Horrors—The Examination Hall—Shameen—The English
and French concessions—Foreign gunboats—The trade of Canton—French
designs—Energy of their consuls—Our weak forbearance—An attack on
Canton by river and by land
_pages_ 256‐278
CHAPTER XII
CHINA—PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE
At England’s mercy in the past—An easy and tempting
prize—Patriotism unknown—The Chinaman’s wonderful love of
his family—Causes of his want of patriotism—His indifference
as to his rulers—The Chinese abroad—Hatred of foreigners in
China—Its causes—This hatred common to all classes—A substitute
for the non‐existent patriotism—Can we blame the Chinese?—A
comparison—If England were like China—Our country invaded by
Chinese, Coreans, Siamese, and Kamschatkans—The missionaries in
China—The gospel of love becomes the doctrine of revenge—The
China of the present—Tyranny and corruption—What the future may
prove—Japan’s example—Japan in the past and now—What she is China
may become—Intelligence of the Chinese—Their success in other
countries—The Chinaman as a soldier—Splendid material—Examples:
the Boxers; the Regulars who attacked Seymour and Tientsin; the
military students at Tientsin; the behaviour of our Chinese
Regiment under fire—Heavy losses among the Allies in the beginning
of the campaign—Comparison of the Egyptian fellaheen—The Chinese
army of the future—A reformed Empire
_pages_ 279‐298
INDEX
_pages_ 299‐307
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
COMMANDER‐IN‐CHIEF AND STAFF OF THE BRITISH FORCES
IN NORTH CHINA _Frontispiece_
PLAN OF PEKIN xvi
EUROPEAN CONCESSIONS, TIENTSIN, AND THE PEIHO RIVER 17
EXECUTION OF A BOXER BY THE FRENCH 28
PUBLIC GARDENS AND GORDON HALL IN THE VICTORIA ROAD,
ENGLISH CONCESSION 28
FRENCH COLONIAL INFANTRY MARCHING THROUGH THE FRENCH
CONCESSION, TIENTSIN 38
GERMAN OFFICERS WELCOMING FIELD‐MARSHAL COUNT VON
WALDERSEE AT THE RAILWAY STATION, TIENTSIN 38
UNITED STATES CAVALRYMAN 51
GERMAN AND INDIAN SOLDIERS 56
FIELD‐MARSHAL COUNT VON WALDERSEE REVIEWING THE ALLIED
TROOPS IN PEKIN 68
A STREET IN THE CHINESE CITY, PEKIN 72
FRONT FACE OF THE DEFENCES OF THE LEGATIONS 78
GROUNDS OF THE BRITISH LEGATION, PEKIN 107
A STREET IN THE TARTAR CITY, PEKIN, AFTER HEAVY RAIN 127
THE MARBLE JUNK 127
THE CANGUE 269
[Illustration: Plan of Pekin.
Gates.
1. Chien Mên Gate. 2. Tung‐Chi Gate, attacked by the Japanese. 3.
Ha‐ta‐man Gate. 4. The Water‐gate, a tunnel in the Wall between the
Tartar and Chinese cities. By this the Indian troops entered the
Legations. 5, 5. Nullah draining the Tartar City. 6. The English
Legation. 7. The Japanese Legation. 8. The Russian Legation. 9. The
American Legation. 10. The Hotel du Nord. 11, 11, 11. Ha‐ta‐man
Street. 12. The Temple of Heaven. 13. Temporary railway station. 14.
Railway line passing through a breach in the Wall. 15. The Temple of
Agriculture, occupied by the Americans.]
THE
LAND OF THE BOXERS
CHAPTER I
FROM WEI‐HAI‐WEI TO TIENTSIN
Our transport steamed over a glassy sea along the bold and rugged
coast of Shan‐tung in Northern China. Ahead of us, a confused jumble
of hills dark against the setting sun, lay Wei‐hai‐wei.[1] A German
steamer homeward bound from Chifu dipped her flag to the blue ensign
with crossed swords flying at our peak. Close inshore an occasional
junk, with weird outlines and quaint sail, lay becalmed. On our deck,
lying in easy‐chairs, were a dozen officers of various branches of
the Service, all bound for Pekin. Some were fresh from South African
battlefields, others were there whose soldiering had been done in India
or in Burma.
Among our number was a well‐known and popular military chaplain, the
Reverend Mr. Hardy, author of the famous _How to be Happy though
Married_. A living testimony to the success of his own theory, he was
the most genial and delightful shipmate I have ever met. Dowered with
all an Irishman’s wit and humour, he had been the life and soul of
everyone on board. He had recently arrived in Hong Kong from Europe,
having travelled across America, where his studied carelessness
of dress and wild, untrimmed beard had been a constant source of
wonderment to the smart citizens of the United States. “In Salt Lake
City,” he told us, “a stranger addressed me one day in my hotel.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said, ‘would you oblige me and my friends at this
table by deciding a small bet we have made?’ ‘I fear I shall be of
little use,’ replied Mr. Hardy; ‘I have only just reached your city.’
‘Not at all. The bet is about yourself. We can’t make out which of
three things you are—a Mormon elder, a Boer General, or a Scotchman.’
And, faith,” added our Irish _padré_ when he told us the tale, “I think
I felt most insulted at their last guess.”
The sun went down slowly behind a chain of rugged hills. But soon
before us, set in a silver sea, the island of Wei‐hai‐wei rose dark
and sombre under a glorious moon. In the glistening water lay the dim
shapes of several warships, their black hulls pierced with gleaming
portholes. On their decks, bright with electric lamps, bands were
playing, their strains swelling louder and louder as we drew near.
Far off the hills of the mainland stood out sharply against the sky,
with here and there below a twinkling light from the villages or the
barracks of the Chinese Regiment.
As our steamer rounded a long, low point, on which lay a deserted fort,
every line distinct in the brilliant moonlight, the town came into
view. The houses nestled down close to the water’s edge, while above
them the island rose in gentle slope to a conical peak. Our anchor
plunged sullenly into the sea, and we lay at rest in England’s most
Eastern harbour. Considerations of quarantine prevented us from going
ashore, and we were forced to wait for daylight to see what the place
was like.
Early on deck next morning we watched the mists fade away until
Wei‐hai‐wei stood revealed in the strong light of the sun. Our latest
possession in the East consists of a small island, called Liu‐Kung‐tao,
on which stands the town. It lies about four miles from the mainland,
of which a few hundred square miles has been leased to England. The
harbour is sheltered to the south by the hills on the coast, to the
north by the island. It affords ample anchorage for a large fleet, but
could not be adequately defended without a large expenditure. During
the China‐Japan War the Chinese fleet sheltered in it until routed out
by the Japanese torpedo boats; while the Japanese army marched along
the heights of the mainland, seized the forts on them, and, turning
their guns on the island, forced its surrender.
At the end of the island, round which our transport had passed, was
a small peninsula, on which stood the fort we had seen. Dismantled
now, it was unused by the present garrison. Close by, on reclaimed
land, lay the recreation ground; and even at the early hour at which
we saw it, tennis and cricket were in full swing. Just above it, in
that close proximity of life and death found ever in the East, was the
cemetery, where many crosses and tombstones showed already the price
we pay for empire. Near at hand was the magazine, over which a Royal
Marine sentry watched. Below, to the right, lay the Naval Dockyard
with a pier running out into the harbour, one destroyer alongside it,
another moored a short distance out. Along the sea‐front and rising
in tier after tier stood well‐built stone Chinese houses, which now,
large‐windowed and improved, serve as residences, shops, and offices
for Europeans. A staring whitewashed wall bore the inscription in big,
black letters, “Ah Ting. Naval Dairy Farm.” A picturesque, open‐work
wall with Chinese summer‐houses at either end enclosed the Club.
Farther on, a little above the harbour, stone steps through walled
terraces led up to the Headquarter Office, once the Yamen—a long row
of single‐storied houses with a quaint gateway, on either side of which
were painted grim Chinese figures of heroic size. On the terrace in
front stood some large Krupp guns with shields, taken in the present
campaign. The Queen’s House, as these buildings are called, divides
the naval from the military quarter of the town, the latter lying to
the right. A few good European bungalows sheltered the General, the
Commanding Royal Engineer, and the local representative of the famous
firm of Jardine, Mathieson, and Company. In the lines of Chinese houses
close by were the residences of the military officers and the hotel.
To the right stacks of fodder proclaimed the presence of the Indian
Commissariat. Past open ground lay a small camp and a few more houses.
Above the town the island rises in terraced slopes to the summit, four
to six hundred feet high, the regular outline of which was broken by
mounds of upturned earth that marked the beginning of a new fort. On
the hillside are long stone walls with gates at intervals, which date
from the Chinese occupation, built by them, not to keep the enemy out
in time of war, but to keep their own soldiers in. Well‐laid roads lead
to the summit or round the island. The slopes are green with small
shrubs and grass, but nothing worthy of the name of tree is apparent.
Towards the eastern end were the rifle‐ranges, near which a fort was
being constructed.
In the harbour was a powerful squadron of British battleships and
cruisers; for Wei‐hai‐wei is the summer rendezvous of our fleet in
Chinese waters.
To the south the mainland lay in a semicircle. Rugged, barren hills
rise abruptly—in many places almost from the water’s edge. Where the
ground slopes more gently back from the sea lines of substantial stone
barracks have been erected for the Chinese Regiment, with excellent
officers’ quarters and a good mess. Nestling among trees—almost the
only ones to be seen on the iron‐bound coast—lies a large village.
East of it a long triangle of embrasured stone wall—the base on the
shore, the apex half‐way up the hill behind—guards the original town
of Wei‐hai‐wei, which still owns Chinese sovereignty, though all the
country round is British territory. A few good bungalows and a large
and well‐built hotel mark where the future Brighton of North China has
already begun to claim a recognition; for in the summer months the
European residents of Tientsin, Pekin, even of Shanghai are commencing
to congregate there in search of cool breezes and a healthy climate.
High up above all towers the chain of rugged hills from whose summits
the victorious Japanese gazed down on the wrecked Chinese fleet and
the battered forts of the island. Behind it, forty miles away, lies
the little‐known treaty port of Chifu with its prosperous foreign
settlement.
The day advanced. From the warships in the harbour the bugle‐calls
rang out merrily in the morning air, answered by the brazen clangour
of the trumpets of the Royal Artillery ashore. The rattle of musketry
came from the rifle‐ranges, where squads of marines were firing.
Along the sea‐front tramped a guard of the Chinese Regiment. Clad in
khaki with blue putties and straw hats, they marched with a soldierly
swing to the Queen’s House, climbed the steps, and disappeared in the
gateway. Coolies laboured at the new fortifications. Boats shot out
from the pier and headed for the warships. Volumes of dense black smoke
poured from the chimneys of the condensing works—for no water fit
for drinking is found on the island. A cruiser steamed out from her
moorings to gun‐practice in the bay. And hour after hour we waited for
the coming of the Health Officer, who alone could allow us to land.
But, instead, the Transport Officer arrived, bearing orders for the
ship to start at once for Taku. And so, with never a chance for us
to go ashore, the anchor rumbled up and out we headed by the eastern
passage. As we steamed out to sea we passed the tiny Sun Island, merely
a deserted fort, still showing how cruelly battered and torn it had
been by the Japanese shells. Round the steep north side of the island
we swung and shaped our course for Taku in the track of the Allied
Fleets that had swept in vengeful haste over those same waters to the
merited punishment of China. All that day we passed along a rocky and
mountainous coast and in among islands of strange and fantastic shape.
Here an elephant, there a lion, carved in stone lay in slumber on the
placid sea. Yonder a camel reposed in Nirvana‐like abstraction. On
one islet, the only sign of life or human habitation we saw, stood a
lighthouse, like unto lighthouses all the world over.
Next morning we awoke to find the ship at anchor. “Taku at last,” was
the cry; and, pyjama clad, we rushed on deck. To see what? Where _was_
Taku? All around a heaving, troubled waste of muddy sea, bearing on
its bosom the ponderous shapes of warships—British, French, Russian,
German, Austrian, Italian, Japanese. Close by, a fleet of merchantmen
flying the red ensign, the horizontal stripes of the “Vaterland,” or
the red ball on white ground of the marvellous little islands that
claim to be the England of the Far East. Tugs and lighters were making
for a German transport, the decks of which were crowded with soldiers.
But of land not a sign. For the roadstead of Taku is so shallow that
no ship of any considerable draught can approach the shore, and we
were then ten miles out from the coast. Passengers and cargo must be
taken ashore in tugs and lighters. Only those who have seen the place
can appreciate the difficulties under which the transport officers
of the various armies laboured in landing men, horses, guns, and the
necessary vast stores of every description. And Captain Elderton, Royal
Indian Marine, well deserved the D.S.O. which rewarded him for the
excellent work he performed at the beginning of the campaign; when,
having successfully conveyed our expedition ashore, he was able to lend
invaluable assistance to the troops of many of the Allies.
The bar at the mouth of the Peiho River, which flows into the sea at
Taku, can only be crossed at high tide; so we were forced to remain on
board until the afternoon. Then, embarking on a launch that had come
out to meet us, we steamed in to the land through a rough and tumbling
sea. As we drew near, the low‐lying shore rose into view. On each side
of the entrance to the Peiho ran long lines of solid earthworks—the
famous Taku Forts. Taken in reverse and bombarded by the gunboats lying
in the river, gallantly assaulted by landing parties from the Allied
Fleets, which, owing to the shallowness of the water, could lend no
other assistance, they fell after a desperate struggle, and now from
their ramparts flew the flags of the conquering nations. Here paced an
Italian sentry, there a Russian soldier leaned on a quick‐firing Krupp
gun; for the forts were armed with the most modern ordnance. The red
coat of a British marine or the white clothing of a group of Japanese
artillerymen lent a few specks of bright colour to the dingy earthworks.
Close to the entrance of the Peiho stands a tall stone building; near
it is the Taku Pilots’ Club, their houses, comfortable bungalows,
close at hand. Between flat, marshy shores the river winds, its banks
crowded with mud huts. Farther up we passed a small dock, in which
lay a gunboat flying the Russian flag. Then more gunboats—American,
French, and Japanese. A few miles from the mouth of the river is
Tong‐ku, the terminus of the Tientsin‐Pekin Railway. At the outset
of the campaign all nationalities, except the British, had chosen
this for their landing‐place and established their depôts here. As
we steamed past, we looked on a scene of restless activity. Russian,
French, German, and Italian soldiers were busy disembarking stores
and _matériel_ from the lighters alongside, loading railway trucks
in the temporary sidings, entraining horses and guns. The English,
more practical, had selected a landing‐place a few miles farther
up, at Hsin‐ho. Here they found themselves in sole occupation, and
the confusion inevitable among so many different nationalities
was consequently absent. An excellent wharf had been built, large
storehouses erected, and a siding constructed from a temporary station
on the railway. Hsin‐ho was our destination. Our launch stopped at
the quay, alongside which two shallow‐draught steamers and a fleet
of lighters were lying. Men of the Coolie Corps were hard at work;
close by stood a guard of the stalwart Punjaub sepoys of the Hong Kong
Regiment. Overhead flew the Union Jack.
Our luggage was speedily disembarked. Most of our fellow‐passengers,
learning that a train for Tientsin was due to leave almost at once,
hurried off to the railway station, about a mile away. Three of us of
the same regiment were met by a brother officer who was in charge of
a detachment at Hsin‐ho. He offered us the hospitality of the station
mess, composed of those employed on various duties at the place; and,
desirous of seeing how the work of the disembarkation of a large force
was carried out, we determined to remain for the night.
We visited Tong‐ku that afternoon, and found a marked difference in
the methods prevailing there and at Hsin‐ho. The presence of so many
different nationalities naturally entailed great confusion. At the
railway station a very babel of languages resounded on every side.
One truck with German stores had to be detached from a goods train
and sent down one siding; the next, with French cavalry horses, sent
down another; a Russian and an Italian officer disputed the ownership
of a third. Lost baggage‐guards stood disconsolate or wandered round
aimlessly until rescued by their transport officers. Detachments of
Continental troops stood helplessly waiting for someone to conduct them
to their proper trains. Disorder reigned supreme.
At Hsin‐ho everything proceeded without confusion. It might have been
an up‐country station in the heart of India. Comfortable huts had been
built for the detachment responsible for the guard duties; and the
various details were equally well accommodated. The military officers
had established themselves in a stone house that had formerly been the
quarters of a railway engineer. The Royal Indian Marine officers in
charge of the naval transport had settled down with the readiness with
which sailors adapt themselves to shore life. A line of felt‐roofed,
mud huts had been turned by them into an excellent mess and quarters.
A raised terrace looked down on a tennis‐court, on the far side of
which a pond in the mud flats, stretching away to the horizon, boasted
a couple of canoes. From a tall flagstaff that stood on the terrace
floated the blue ensign and Star of India of their Service.
The railway siding ran past large and well‐built storehouses. On the
river bank long lines of mules were picketed, looking in excellent
condition despite the hard work they had gone through. In a little
cutting in the bank was an old and tiny steam tug, which had been
turned into a condenser for drinking‐water. Everything was trim and
tidy. The work of disembarking the stores from the lighters in the
river and putting them into the railway trucks almost alongside went
on in perfect order, all in marked contrast to the confusion that
prevailed at Tong‐ku.
Early next morning we were _en route_ for Tientsin. My brother officers
and I tramped down through awful mud to the long platform which was
dignified by the title of “Hsin‐ho Railway Station.” A small house
close by sheltered the railway employees and the telegraph staff,
signallers of the Army Telegraph Department.
The train from the Tong‐ku terminus soon appeared, and as it steamed in
presented a—to us—novel appearance. Leaning out of the windows was
a motley crowd of many nationalities. Out of one appeared the heads
of a boyish Cossack and a bearded Sikh. The next displayed the chubby
face of a German soldier beside the dark features of an Italian sailor.
When the train stopped, a smart Australian bluejacket stepped out of
the brake‐van. He was the guard. In the corridor cars were Yagers,
Austrian sailors, brawny American soldiers, baggy‐trousered Zouave and
red‐breeched Chasseur d’Afrique. Sturdy little Japanese infantrymen
sat beside tall Bengal Lancers. A small Frenchman chatted volubly with
a German trooper from the Lost Provinces. Smart Tommy Atkins gazed in
wondering disdain at the smaller Continental soldiers, or listened
with an amused smile to the vitriolic comments of a Yankee friend on
the manners and appearance of “those darned Dagoes.” And among them,
perfectly at his ease, sat the imperturbable Chinaman, apparently a
little bored but otherwise quite uninterested in the “foreign devils.”
The first‐class carriages were filled with the officers of every
nation whose flag now waved on Chinese soil. Russians in white
coats with flat caps and gold shoulder‐straps sat side by side with
khaki‐clad Britishers; Italian officers in yellow; Frenchmen in every
shade of supposed‐to‐be khaki; Germans with silver belts and sashes;
Japanese with many medals and enamelled decorations on their breasts.
As we entered our carriage we touched our helmets to the previous
occupants—a salute which was punctiliously returned by everyone
present. Settling ourselves in our seats, our interest was at first
fully absorbed by the various uniforms around us; and it was some time
before we could devote our attention to the scenery through which we
were passing.
The train ran first over wide‐stretching mud flats, then through a
level, monotonous country, flooded or covered with high crops; and,
barely seen above the tall vegetation, here and there roofless houses
and ruined villages showed the track of war. At every bridge and
culvert stood a tent with a guard of an Indian regiment, the sentry
presenting arms as the train passed. The stations along the line were
numerous. Over their stone buildings floated the Union Jack, for the
railway was now in British hands. On each platform the same scene
presented itself. The English Staff Officer in khaki and red‐banded
forage cap; the stalwart Indian sentry; a varied mob of French and
German soldiers, Sikhs, Mussulmans, Chinese.
The fields of luxuriant, waving grain stretched away to the rim of the
distant horizon. A trail of smoke, the tall masts of junks showed where
the river wound in frequent bends. At length we passed the extensive
buildings and high chimneys of the Chinese Arsenal, captured by our
marines and held by the Russians; and above the trees towers and domes
told that we were nearing Tientsin. Then through a gap in a big earthen
wall that is twenty miles in circumference, past many sidings and long
lines of iron trucks and waggons with bullet‐marked sides, eloquent of
fierce fighting, we ran into the station.
A commonplace, uninteresting place at first sight—just the ordinary
railway station with the usual sheds, iron bridge, offices,
refreshment‐room. Yet here, not long before, white men and yellow had
closed in deadly struggle, and the rails and platforms had been dyed
red with the blood of heroes. The sides of the iron water‐tank, the
walls of the engine‐house, were patched and repaired; for shells from
the most modern guns had rained on them for days. The stone walls were
loopholed and bullet‐splashed. Many of the buildings were roofless,
their shattered ruins attesting the accuracy of the Chinese gunners. At
yonder corner the fanatical Boxers had burst in a wild night attack,
and even European soldiers had retreated before the fury of their
onslaught. But the men of the hitherto untried Hong Kong Regiment,
sturdy sons of the Punjaub plains or Frontier hills, had swept down on
them with the cold steel and bayoneted them in and under the trucks;
until even Chinese fanaticism could stand it no longer and the few
survivors fled in the friendly darkness. For that brave exploit, the
Subhedar Major of the corps now wears the Star of the Indian Empire.
From the mud walls of that village, scarce two hundred yards away,
the European‐drilled Imperial troops, armed with the latest magazine
rifles, had searched with deadly aim every yard of open ground over
which the defenders advanced. Across this ditch the Boxers, invincible
in their mad belief, had swarmed in the face of a murderous fire, and
filled it with their dead. Not a foot of ground in that prosaic railway
station but had its tale of desperate fanaticism or disciplined valour.
[Footnote 1: Pronounced “Way high way.”]
[Illustration: EUROPEAN CONCESSIONS, TIENTSIN, AND THE PEIHO RIVER]