1817-1848.
THE FIRST WAR WITH CHINA.
The XVIIIth Royal Irish regiment landed at Portsmouth in March, 1817.
Since 1783, the Royal Irish had only served three years in the United
Kingdom, and they looked forward to a long tour of duty at home, but
the fates were against them. Almost as soon as Napoleon surrendered
himself to the captain of the _Bellerophon_ the economists in the
House of Commons began to demand retrenchment in the army, and with
such success that in 1821 only 101,000 men, exclusive of the troops
in the East India Company’s service, were left to protect the whole
of the British possessions throughout the world. The garrison of the
United Kingdom absorbed about half the army, the remainder being
stationed in India and the colonies, where, it is said, Wellington
hid them to be out of sight of the anti-military politicians. Among
the regiments ordered abroad was the XVIIIth, which in February,
1821, left Cork for the Mediterranean; it spent three years at Malta
and eight in the Ionian Isles,[120] and in March, 1832, returned to
England.
In the autumn of 1832, the Royal Irish were quartered in detachments
in various towns in Lancashire and Yorkshire; during the general
election at the end of the year several companies were called upon
to help the civil power in quelling serious riots at Sheffield,
Bolton, and Preston, where officers and men won high praise for the
combination of forbearance and determination which they showed in
dealing with excited mobs. Towards the end of 1833 the regiment was
concentrated at Manchester, whence on May 8, 1834, to quote the words
in which the Digest of Service records the first train journey of
the XVIIIth, it “proceeded by railway conveyance” to Liverpool to
embark for Dublin. In September the regiment moved to Cork; a few
months later it was at Birr, and early in 1836, while at Athlone,
it was warned for foreign service in Ceylon. Throughout their
tour of duty in the United Kingdom the Royal Irish received warm
commendation from all the generals under whom they had served, and
these favourable opinions were fully endorsed in a letter from the
Adjutant-General, who on December 20, 1834, wrote that “the report
of the XVIIIth Royal Irish regiment is considered most satisfactory.
The excellent state of its discipline is highly creditable to Colonel
Burrell, and Lord Hill cannot be but more disposed to attachment
(_sic_) to that officer’s exertions when he finds that discipline
has been so effectually maintained without having had recourse to
corporal punishment for a period exceeding two years.”
Two companies under Major Pratt sailed from Cork in the transport
_Numa_ on November 15, 1836, and arrived at Colombo towards the end
of April, 1837. The remainder of the corps, under Colonel Burrell,
embarked in the transport _Barossa_, touched at Teneriffe and Rio
de Janeiro, and reached its destination at the end of May. After
serving for some time at Colombo, where new colours were presented
by Lieutenant-General Sir John Wilson, K.C.B., the headquarters and
a wing of the regiment were stationed at Trincomalee, where in 1840
welcome news reached them. Trouble had arisen with China, and the
regiment was to form part of an expedition against the Celestial
Empire. The causes of our quarrel with the Emperor of China, very
shortly stated, were that the Chinese had not kept to the treaties
of commerce which they had entered into with England; they had
attacked and robbed British merchants, fired upon English ships, and
grossly insulted the representative of the Queen. The Mandarins, or
high officials of Canton, were the chief offenders; to punish them
a naval blockade of that port was established; ships of war were
ordered up from the Indian station, and a small body of troops was
collected to co-operate with the Navy in bringing the Chinese to
their senses. The six companies of the Royal Irish in Ceylon sailed
eastwards in May and June, 1840, and the three depôt companies,
recently landed at Bombay from England, joined headquarters soon
after the regiment arrived in China, raising it to a total strength
of 667 of all ranks.[121] The other British regiments were the 26th
and the 49th; the Native army of India contributed detachments of
Madras Artillery and Sappers and Miners, a corps known as the Bengal
Volunteers, and the 37th regiment of Madras Native Infantry, while
the Navy was represented by three line-of-battle ships, two frigates,
fourteen smaller men-of-war, four armed steamers, and twenty-seven
transports. With this small force England was about to go to war
with a country of three hundred and sixty millions of inhabitants,
whose seaport towns were defended by forts bristling with ordnance
varying in calibre from 68-pr. to 18-pr. guns, and whose army
immeasurably exceeded in number the British fighting men. Fortunately
for us the Chinese artillerymen, though not wanting in courage, were
ill-trained; their forts, though massive, were badly planned; and the
infantry, though they often fought well and showed much courage as
individuals, were poorly disciplined, badly armed, and as a rule very
badly commanded. Though the government of Pekin had spent much money
in making cannon on European models, they had neglected to reproduce
the muskets with which the troops of the white races were equipped.
Thus the Chinese foot soldiers did not possess the equivalent of our
flint-lock smooth-bore muskets; their firearms were matchlocks and
gingals or portable wall pieces, worked on tripods by a crew of three
men, and throwing two-ounce balls. Their other weapons varied; the
Tartars, the picked troops of the Empire, used the bow; other corps
had spears and swords, while others again carried battle-axes and
very unpleasant cutting instruments like bill-hooks, fastened to the
end of long poles.
The policy and general conduct of our expedition was entrusted to
two Plenipotentiaries. One of these officials soon broke down in
health and disappeared from the scene; the other, who was credited
with some knowledge of the Chinese character, proved to be amiable
and well-intentioned, but vacillating, credulous, and incompetent
to meet the wiles of Eastern diplomacy. His gullibility and want of
backbone cruelly hampered the movements of the sailors and soldiers
until, many months after the beginning of the war, he was replaced by
Sir Henry Pottinger, an Indian officer of large experience in dealing
with Oriental races.
After assembling at Singapore, the point fixed for the general
rendezvous, the fleet sailed for China, and, contrary to the
universal expectation, did not stop at the mouth of the Canton river,
but followed the coast upwards to the island of Chusan.[122] From
its position near the mouth of the Yang-Tse-Kiang river this island
was of great strategic importance, and was required as a base of
operations. Tinghae, its principal town, was weakly held, but when
the Mandarins were summoned to surrender they replied that, though
they had no hope of making a successful resistance, they were in
honour bound to defend their post. After a short bombardment by the
men-of-war on July 5, 1840, the troops were landed, the XVIIIth
leading the attack, and the place fell into our hands. Our casualties
were very few; the Chinese, on the contrary, lost very heavily, but
the climate quickly avenged them. For several months the troops were
kept inactive in Chusan, which proved to be a hot-bed of disease. In
the hope of conciliating the inhabitants the soldiers at first were
ordered to live under canvas, though there were hundreds of houses
in which they could have been quartered. The camping grounds were
selected without reference to the doctors, who protested in vain
when they saw the “tents pitched on low paddy-fields, surrounded by
stagnant water, putrid and stinking from quantities of dead animal
and vegetable matter. Under a sun hotter than was ever experienced in
India,” wrote a Madras army surgeon, “the men on duty were buckled
up to the throat in their full-dress coatees, and in consequence
of there being so few camp followers, fatigue-parties of Europeans
were daily detailed to carry provisions and stores from the ships to
the tents, and to perform all menial employments, which experience
has long taught us they cannot stand in a tropical climate.”[123]
The troops were fed on rations not only unsuited to the climate but
of bad quality; much of the biscuit was bad, and the meat salted
in India proved uneatable. Small wonder that in such circumstances
intermittent fever, diarrhœa, and dysentery raged among all ranks;
and though after a time the troops were moved into the houses of the
natives, disease had taken such hold upon all ranks that in November
there were not more than five hundred effectives at Chusan. The Royal
Irish fared better than the other regiments, as the ships from which
they drew most of their supplies were laden with stores prepared
not in India, but in England; but still they suffered severely--two
officers, Major R. Hammill and Lieutenant H. F. Vavasour, and about
fifty of the other ranks died between July 5th and the end of the
year.[124] Yet these losses were insignificant compared to those of
the 26th, which from nine hundred was reduced to a strength, all
told, of two hundred and ninety-one.
In January, 1841, there were combined naval and military operations
against the forts at the mouth of the Canton river, in which the
Royal Irish took no part as they had been left to garrison Chusan;
a few of the regiment, however, were present, probably invalids
serving on board ship for change of air. After several batteries had
been dismantled and many heavy guns spiked or otherwise disabled,
the Mandarins made a treaty with the Plenipotentiary, by which they
agreed to cede to us the island of Hong Kong, to pay a considerable
indemnity, and to allow trade to be reopened at Canton, while on
our side we undertook to restore Chusan to the Chinese. No time was
lost in occupying Hong Kong, of which formal possession was taken
on February 26, 1841, two days after the Royal Irish arrived there.
Colonel Burrell, XVIIIth, had been the senior military officer
throughout the occupation of Chusan, and very thankful must he have
been when, after seeing the last of the garrison safely on board
ship, he turned his back on the island which proved fatal to such
numbers of his men.[125] Very soon after the expedition had been
concentrated at Hong Kong it became evident that the treaty was not
worth the paper it was written upon. Far from being anxious for
peace, the Chinese had only sought to gain time to prepare for war.
An army of labourers was strengthening the defences of Canton; an
army of soldiers was being collected in the interior of China to man
them; large rewards were offered for the capture of British ships and
British fighting men; for a battleship a hundred thousand dollars
were promised; the Admiral and the Plenipotentiary were worth fifty
thousand dollars each; the other officers were rated on a descending
scale, while the price of a Madras Sepoy was only fifty dollars. On
the 24th of February the fleet bombarded the celebrated Bogue forts
in the Canton river; five hundred guns were taken, and everyone
hoped that the ships would now be allowed to push up the river and
capture Canton, when all movements were temporarily arrested by the
announcement that the Plenipotentiary had entered into a truce.
As, however, the Chinese did not fulfil its terms, the men-of-war
engaged, silenced and destroyed such of the batteries as they had
not yet attacked; made their way up the reaches of the river, and
anchored close to Canton. The city lay almost defenceless under their
guns, when the Plenipotentiary agreed to a suspension of hostilities
on condition that the port should be reopened to British trade. This
arrangement suited the Chinese admirably: the civil population would
be enriched by the money paid by the merchants for the tea crop,
then ready for delivery; while the military Mandarins gained time to
cast new ordnance, to rebuild their ruined forts, and to reinforce
the garrison before again defying the “Barbarians.”[126] The troops
were ordered back to the harbour of Hong Kong, where Major-General
Sir Hugh Gough, who had recently arrived from Madras to take command
of the land forces, reorganised his little army, and attempted,
though with small success, to infuse his own spirit of determination
into the weak-kneed Plenipotentiary, whom Gough in a private letter
described as “whimsical as a shuttle-cock.”
It was not long before the position of affairs at Canton once more
became most serious. The gun factories had been working night and
day; the forts had been repaired and re-armed; large numbers of
soldiers had arrived; and in May the extermination was decreed of the
European merchants, who on the faith of the truce had now returned to
their counting-houses. This roused the Plenipotentiary into temporary
activity; he arranged with Gough and the senior naval officer for
a combined assault on Canton, and warned all Europeans to leave
the place forthwith. By the evening of the 23rd of May the navy,
after hard work in bombarding the river forts by day and warding
off the approach of fire-rafts by night, had prepared the way for
the execution of Sir Hugh Gough’s plan for the capture of Canton.
This city of a million inhabitants was surrounded by walls of great
thickness, and from twenty-five to twenty-eight feet in height; its
ramparts, bristling with guns, were manned by forty-five thousand
regular soldiers and an equal number of militia. To the west, south,
and east of the town were large and prosperous suburbs, but on the
north this expansion had been checked by a range of heights which,
running parallel with the northern wall, completely dominated Canton
and its defences. The Chinese had realised that if these heights
passed into the hands of the British the town would become untenable:
not only had they defended them with four strong forts, armed with
forty-two heavy guns, but they had formed a large entrenched camp
outside the north-eastern corner of the city, in order further to
secure the safety of the heights which they rightly anticipated
would be the point of our attack. Such was the position against
which Gough, with less than 2800 soldiers, sailors, and marines,
was about to try his strength. He divided his little force into two
columns of very unequal size.[127] The right, or smaller detachment,
was to force its way through the western suburb as far as the
European settlement, or, as it was locally termed, “the factories”;
occupy it, and place it in a state of defence. General Gough took
personal command of the left or larger column, which consisted of
four so-called brigades, the largest of which had in the ranks less
than 900 officers and men. When the left column had been transhipped
into all kinds of craft, from smart men-of-war’s gigs to lumbering
native tea junks, it was towed in a motley procession of about eighty
boats for five miles up a creek of the river to Tingpoo, a village
about three miles and a half from the western base of the northern
heights. Here the fourth brigade landed without opposition, just as
the guns of the fleet were thundering out a royal salute in honour of
the birthday of Queen Victoria. With the 49th regiment Sir Hugh Gough
made a rapid reconnaissance inland, and then, leaving outposts behind
him, returned to superintend the disembarkation of the main body.
Daylight on the 25th saw the whole column in motion, slowly
threading its way, often in single file, over the densely cultivated
rice-fields which lay between Tingpoo and their objective. The
XVIIIth was ordered to leave an officer and thirty men at the
landing-place to keep open the communications and to protect stores;
the duty fell to Lieutenant W. P. Cockburn, who distinguished himself
by the skill he displayed a few hours later in beating off an attack
by a considerable body of the enemy. Until the infantry were within
range of the western pair of forts the Chinese remained silent;
then a heavy fire from their guns forced Gough to halt until his
artillery could be brought into action. By eight A.M. the gunners
had succeeded in dragging two 5½-in. mortars, two 12-pr. howitzers,
two 12-pr. field-pieces, and a rocket battery to within 600 yards
of the two western forts. These they bombarded vigorously, while
the General reconnoitred and issued his orders for the assault: the
Naval brigade was to storm the western forts, while the 1st and
4th brigades were to drive the Chinese from the hills close to the
eastern forts. Under cover of our guns the troops advanced, exposed
to a heavy but fortunately ill-directed fire: with great dash the
sailors wrested the western forts from the enemy, who fought with
stubbornness though without skill; the infantry swept over the
heights with such vigour that the Chinese deserted the eastern forts
before the troops had time to close upon them; and the Marines, who
had been detached from Burrell to cope with a demonstration against
our right flank and rear, disposed of their antagonists with little
trouble. In the charge of the XVIIIth upon the forts the grenadier
company led in extended order, accompanied by the General, who in his
despatch reported that it had seldom fallen to his lot to “witness
a more soldier-like and steady advance, or a more animated attack.
Every individual steadily and gallantly did his duty. The XVIIIth and
49th were emulous which should first reach the appointed goals; but
under the impulse of this feeling they did not lose sight of that
discipline which could alone ensure success.”
Though the ridge had been won with such ease, the day’s work was
by no means over. As soon as the Chinese realised that the forts
were lost, they opened from the city walls so heavy a fire of guns,
gingals, and matchlocks that it became necessary to keep the British
troops well under cover, and part of the garrison of the entrenched
camp advanced into a village, threatening our left flank. The 49th
dislodged them, but later in the day there was such animation in
the camp that Gough ordered Burrell to storm it with the Royal
Irish, under Lieutenant-Colonel H. Adams, and a company of Marines.
Between the foot of the heights held by the British and the enemy’s
entrenchments stretched a great expanse of rice-fields deep in water;
a narrow causeway bridged this inundation, and along it, under a
galling fire, the XVIIIth advanced at the double, scattered the enemy
in every direction, set fire to the tents, and blew up the magazines.
This success was not a bloodless one--three officers were wounded,
and there were some casualties in the other ranks. The assault was
led by Captain Grattan, whose “spirited conduct” on this occasion
led Gough to select him to carry despatches to the Governor-General
of India.[128] With the capture of the village the operations ended,
for though Gough was burning to assault the northern wall of the
town, his heavy guns were not yet in position, and his infantry, out
of training from their long detention on board ship, were completely
exhausted by the abnormal heat of the day. To this exhaustion the
unsuitable dress of the soldiers doubtless contributed not a little.
Notwithstanding the protests of the doctors the men still wore
tightly buttoned red coatees or shell jackets, stocks, and blue
Nankin trousers; and their headgear was a huge shako or a small
forage cap, both useless in an almost tropical climate.
Gough’s little force bivouacked on the heights they had won, elated
at their own success and at that of the right column, which had made
good its position in “the factories.” Early on the 26th, before our
artillery was ready to open fire, the Chinese sent a messenger to
say that they desired peace; Gough replied that before entering into
any negotiations he must see the Chinese General, and in waiting
for this elusive personage, who never appeared, several hours were
wasted; then torrents of rain rendered any movements impossible, and
Gough had to content himself with completing his preparations for
the storming of the city wall on the 27th. But in his plans he had
not reckoned with the Plenipotentiary, who, without consulting the
officers commanding the naval and military forces, agreed with the
Chinese to accept an indemnity of six millions of dollars, to be paid
within six days, when the whole expedition was to retire from the
Canton river. Remonstrances were useless, for the Plenipotentiary was
supreme, and after several anxious days spent in skirmishing with
the local irregular troops, the soldiers re-embarked and the fleet
once more returned to Hong Kong, leaving the Chinese more firmly
convinced than ever that the English were as easy to hoodwink in
diplomacy as they were difficult to fight in battle. These operations
cost fourteen killed and ninety-one wounded. The casualties in the
Royal Irish were Captain J. J. Sargent, Lieutenants D. Edwardes and
G. Hilliard wounded, and five men killed or wounded.[129]
Owing to a combination of adverse circumstances nothing was
accomplished by sea or land for some months. The Plenipotentiary,
ever engaged in futile negotiations with the Chinese, could not bring
himself to accept the active policy pressed upon him by Sir Hugh
Gough, who pointed out that the Emperor of China would never respect
us until the expedition had forced a passage up the great waterway of
the Yang-Tse-Kiang, and struck a vigorous blow at the heart of the
Celestial Empire. A great typhoon drove many ships ashore, dismasted
others, and blew down part of the settlement at Hong Kong. Malarial
fever, caught in the rice grounds around Canton, became so prevalent
that at one time two-thirds of the troops were unfit for duty. The
Royal Irish did not suffer more than other corps, yet on August 1,
six weeks after a draft had raised their strength to 747 all told,
136 of the regiment were in hospital, and three officers died.[130]
With the arrival of Sir Henry Pottinger, the new Plenipotentiary, the
aspect of affairs changed; and on the 21st of August the regiment
formed part of the column embarked for the attack of Amoy--a
seaport three hundred miles up the coast towards the mouth of the
Yang-Tse-Kiang. The position of Amoy is naturally strong, and since
the beginning of the war it had been so greatly fortified that, after
it was taken, soldiers and sailors agreed that it would have proved
impregnable had it been defended by Europeans. Amoy stands at the
head of a bay studded with islands, the most considerable of which,
Kulangsu, commands both the city and the strait or channel, only six
hundred yards in width, by which the inner harbour is entered. From
every island and from every headland guns frowned upon the bay, and,
to quote Gough’s biographer--
“immediately in front of the outer town stood a succession of
batteries, and from these there extended a solid rampart, facing
the sea, about a mile in length. It was, says an eye-witness,
‘well built of granite, faced with earth, extending along the
shore nearly up to the suburbs of the city, and designed to
command the passage to the harbour. It presented a line of
guns, a full mile in length, the embrasures being covered with
large slabs of stone protected by earth heaped upon them, and
mounting no less than ninety-six guns.’ The end of this rampart
was connected by a castellated wall with a range of rocky
heights running parallel to the beach and the rampart, which
was thus protected from a flanking attack.... On the island of
Kulangsu there were several strong batteries, mounting altogether
seventy-six guns, and some of these faced the long stone rampart
on the opposite side of the strait, thus exposing the assailants
to a cross-fire.”[131]
The naval and military commanders decided that the works of Amoy
and Kulangsu should be attacked at the same time; the ships were to
bombard them in front, while the troops took them in reverse. The
morning of the 26th of August saw the plan carried into effect: the
batteries at Kulangsu fell easily into our hands: those at Amoy were
so strongly built that though two line-of-battle ships poured many
thousands of projectiles into them at 400 yards’ range, the masonry
was practically uninjured. The cannonade, however, served its purpose
in preventing the Chinese gunners from sinking the boats in which
the XVIIIth and 49th were carried to their appointed landing-place
at the foot of the castellated wall. While the Royal Irish, scaling
this wall, turned the flank of the works on the sea front, the 49th
rushed along the shore and scrambled over the parapet of the great
battery; both regiments swept the work from end to end, driving the
Chinese before them, and then joined the Marines, who had occupied
the heights. Here they commanded the “outer city”; but the “inner
city” was protected by a range of hills occupied by a large number
of the enemy. Gough ordered the 49th to turn these hills, and sent
the XVIIIth straight at the Chinese, up a steep gorge where a few men
could have checked a regiment. The Chinese, however, made a very poor
resistance; the troops bivouacked on the heights, and next morning
occupied the citadel and “inner city” of Amoy. The total British loss
was seventeen killed and wounded; among the latter were two men of
the Royal Irish. The Chinese suffered severely, and several of their
leaders committed suicide rather than accept defeat.
The adventures of the XVIIIth on this occasion are amusingly
described by Lieutenant A. Murray, the officer in command of the
picked shots of the regiment, who throughout the campaign worked
together under his orders--
“We got into boats about 12 o’clock, and were taken in tow by
the steamer _Nemesis_,[132] and as we had to go to the different
ships to collect the men, we were towed about the harbour for a
long time, at the imminent risk of being capsized, as the string
of boats increased every minute, and consequently threading our
way through the fleet became more dangerous. I cut one boat
adrift to prevent her sinking us, as she was twice our size and
was pounding us to pieces, the Colours of the regiment being in
the boat with me.... The steamer stood pretty closely into the
shore, and the boats cast off, the _Nemesis_ covering our landing
with her guns and rockets. Our Grenadier and Light companies, and
marksmen, under the command of Major Tomlinson, were ordered to
move to the front to take the flanking wall of the battery, which
was done very easily, and they (_i.e._, the Chinese) only fired
a few shots and a volley of rockets. We got over the wall by
stepping on each others’ backs. On seeing us come over the wall
the Chinese, who till then had stood to their guns, ... now ran
in all directions, throwing their large shields over their backs.”
After capturing a Mandarin’s flag Murray followed the grenadier and
light companies along the rear of the batteries, where a number of
the enemy came at them boldly; the Chinese were soon dispersed,
however, and fell back to a clump of aloe bushes, from which they
were driven by a second charge. Of the bivouac Murray writes--
“It was almost night when we reached the summit of the heights
and there were ordered to halt for the night. This was rather
a pleasant look-out for tired and hungry men, without anything
to eat or a house to sleep in, with a bitter cold wind blowing;
however there was nothing for it but to choose the softest
possible rock, light a cheroot and fancy yourself comfortable for
the night.... There was great picking and choosing among us for
soft rocks; but I believe we all came to the conclusion that one
rock is as hard a pillow as another.”[133]
After destroying the batteries and securing the five hundred guns
captured at Amoy, the expeditionary force put to sea, leaving as
garrison of Kulangsu 361 officers and men of the XVIIIth under
Major J. Cowper, part of the 26th, and a detachment of artillery--a
total of 550 of all ranks. The intention was to attack the towns of
Chinhai and Ningpo, and then, in order to efface the bad impression
produced by our evacuation of Chusan at the beginning of the year,
to re-occupy that island. Bad weather, however, scattered the ships,
and, when at length they were reassembled it was decided at once to
seize Tinghae, the capital of Chusan, before the Chinese had finished
their preparations for its defence. Since we had abandoned it our
enemy had fortified the town assiduously. On the sea wall facing the
harbour a battery of eighty guns had been thrown up. On the west it
ended at the base of an eminence, in our previous occupation known
as Pagoda Hill, where cannon were now mounted; to the eastward it
stretched almost to the foot of a line of heights, entrenched but
not yet armed. Gough decided to land at the foot of these heights,
and after carrying them to push some of the troops against the
town, while others attacked the long battery from flank and rear.
The ships were to avoid the fire of the guns on the sea front by
taking up their stations on the outer flanks of Pagoda Hill and the
eastern heights. The fleet came into action on October 1, 1841,
and covered by their bombardment three hundred of the Royal Irish
under Lieutenant-Colonel Adams, the newly arrived 55th regiment,
and eight guns of the Madras Artillery disembarked under a heavy
though ill-aimed fire of matchlocks and gingals. The 55th won the
eastern heights, though not without difficulty, for the garrison of
Tinghae were soldiers of a better stamp than the defenders of Amoy.
The Royal Irish were sent off to the right, marching in quarter
column and covered by the flank companies and picked marksmen, who
ran into the enemy at an encampment near the long battery. Here the
Chinese showed fight, and lost considerably in hand-to-hand work.
Murray relates that a “white-buttoned” Mandarin,[134] after wounding
one of the marksmen in the chest with a spear, “closed with him and
got his forage cap off, another man came up and thrust at him with
a bayonet, which he wrenched off, but was shot by a third.” While
the sharpshooters were thus employed the grenadier company had made
its way into the long battery, where there was a sharp skirmish at
close quarters round a gun. The Chinese stood bravely, and were
not dislodged until another company of the regiment came up at the
double, when they fell back, leaving the ground covered with their
own wounded and a few of the XVIIIth. In this little fight pistols
were used with effect. A Chinaman ran at Murray, sword in hand, but
as the hero of the adventure writes, “having no particular confidence
in my regulation spit, or perhaps in my own skill as a swordsman,
I stuck my sword in the mud beside me, took a steady aim, and shot
him.” As soon as the Royal Irish had cleared the long battery of
the enemy they climbed Pagoda Hill, to find that its garrison had
been driven away by the shot and shell of the men-of-war and the
artillery. As the Colours of the XVIIIth were raised on the top of
the hill, those of the 55th began to float over the walls of Tinghae,
and the capital of Chusan once more passed into our hands at the cost
of some thirty killed and wounded. In the XVIIIth the casualties
were a sergeant and six rank and file wounded. The loss of Chusan
greatly annoyed the Chinese, who complained that we had not fought
them fairly. Instead of anchoring our ships right under the cannon
of the long battery and making a frontal attack by sea and land, as
they expected, we had meanly bombarded the extreme ends of their
line of defence, landed where their guns could not play upon us, and
taken the battery in flank. Had cricket been one of the national
institutions of China, the beaten troops would doubtless have said
that we had not played the game!
Leaving an adequate garrison in Chusan General Gough next attacked
Chinhai, a seaport at the mouth of the Ningpo river, twelve miles
from the important city of Ningpo. Its fortifications, though strong,
were easily turned on the 10th of October, when the place was taken
with a total loss of four killed and sixteen wounded. One man in the
Royal Irish was killed[135] and four wounded. The Chinese suffered
very heavily, for here, as elsewhere in the campaign, their arms
were as indifferent as their shooting, and after standing well for a
time they broke before a charge, and were then mowed down in every
direction. The slaughter of the fugitives was a hideous necessity:
we were but a handful in an enormous country, and our enemies were
so numerous that we should have been overwhelmed by numbers had we
not inflicted severe punishment upon them in every engagement. To the
bad marksmanship of the Chinese must be attributed the XVIIIth’s good
luck on this occasion. As the Royal Irish approached the range of
strongly held hills which they were to seize, they found themselves
on the bank of an unfordable canal, well under the enemy’s fire.
This canal was spanned by a bridge, narrow in itself, and made
still narrower by an arch across it; the archway was blocked by a
large stone, and even after this obstruction had been removed the
passage was so small that the men had to take off their great-coats
in order to squeeze through it one by one. “We had one or two very
stout fellows,” wrote one of the officers present, “whom we had
great difficulty in pushing through, but when we came to the big
drum we _were_ in a fix. However, we got a little boat, and put
McGiff, the big drummer, and his drum into it, with a pole to shove
himself across. The Chinese thought the big drum was some new form of
infernal machine, and opened a tremendous fire upon it, much to our
amusement, but it was anything but fun for McGiff. He and the drum,
however, got over safe and sound, except the drum heads, which were
much damaged by bullets.”
Three days later Ningpo fell without a shot being fired, and the
little army was played into the town by the band of the XVIIIth.
Here Gough was obliged to halt: much as he desired to push on to
the banks of the Yang-Tse-Kiang he could not do so without troops,
and sickness, casualties, and the drain of the garrisons of Hong
Kong, Kulangsu, Tinghae, and Chinhai had left him with only about
seven hundred and fifty men in hand. With so slender a force he
could do nothing but await reinforcements; and for several months
the headquarters of the XVIIIth and 49th remained at Ningpo,
occasionally employed in demonstrations to postpone the attack
which, as he rightly anticipated, could not be long delayed. Beyond
these demonstrations there was little to break the monotony of
existence in this Chinese city. The duty was heavy. Nearly five
miles of continuous wall, twenty-seven feet high, twenty feet broad,
and broken only by six gates, surrounded the town: each of these
entrances required a strong guard; the town was patrolled several
times during the twenty-four hours; and the field officer and captain
of the day, mounted on sure-footed Chinese ponies, rode frequently
round the ramparts to visit ground which could not be watched by
the sentries on the gates. Once a week the Colours were trooped in
the presence of the General, who insisted on the attendance of all
officers not otherwise employed. When troops were available there
was drill in a large square, to the great delight of a number of
little native boys who had attached themselves to the Royal Irish.
These children hung about the temple, which had been converted into
a barrack, and did odd jobs for the men, helping them to cook and to
carry dinners to the guards. In return for these kind offices the
soldiers made pets of the boys, and taught them military expressions
with such assiduity that in a short time “almost all the young
blackguards about the place could swear in very good English.” These
youngsters proved their friendship with the XVIIIth by confirming
the rumours, already current, that during the absence of Sir Hugh
Gough, who had been summoned to a conference at Chusan with Sir
Henry Pottinger, a great army was about to attack Ningpo; and after
warning their soldier friends that next day there was going to be
a great fight, they disappeared. This warning was repeated by the
traders in the market, who drew their hands across their throats to
give their British customers to understand that all the “Barbarians”
would soon be killed. In the night of March 9-10, 1842, large bodies
of the enemy simultaneously assaulted the south and west gates. The
attack on the former was successful; the Chinese forced it open,
routed the guard, and were making their way into the centre of the
town when they were met by part of the 49th, who drove them through
the gate and back into the suburbs with heavy loss. The west gate
was held by Lieutenant A. W. S. F. Armstrong and twenty-eight men
of the XVIIIth, carefully picked among the best soldiers of the
regiment by the adjutant, Lieutenant Graves, who, like every one
of the garrison at Ningpo except the officer in temporary command,
had realised that there was trouble in the air. Five minutes after
the bugles had sounded the alarm the Royal Irish were on parade,
and two companies went off at the double to reinforce Armstrong’s
guard, who, owing to the construction of the parapet, were unable to
fire down upon the Tartars as they strove to lever the gate off its
hinges with crowbars and axes. Suddenly among the defenders appeared
a private, Michael Cushin, described as a first-class soldier with
only one failing, who seems to have been the hero of the defence. He
had been imprisoned for drunkenness at the west gate, and when the
attack began, begged to be released. As soon as his cell was opened,
he wrenched the bar off the door and began to use it on the Tartars’
heads: next he killed the officer commanding a party of the enemy on
the point of clambering over the parapet: then his quick wits solved
the problem of the ill-planned rampart. Collecting ten or twelve
men, they put their shoulders to the part of it which overhung the
gate, and with a few great heaves topped the mass of masonry into
the crowd below.[136] Through the gap thus made the guard began to
ply their muskets, and when the supports arrived with a light gun, a
murderous fire was opened upon the Tartars, who sullenly abandoned
the assault and retired, leaving two silk banners as trophies in the
hands of the XVIIIth. After the south gate had been re-occupied a
handful of British soldiers, among whom were some of the Royal Irish,
pushed their way through the town, and near one of the gates found a
great number of the enemy drawn up across the street. The infantry
reserved their volley until twenty yards from the Tartars, the guns
fired canister at fifty yards’ range, and a party of the regiment,
under Lieutenant Murray, after breaking through a house and fording a
canal, occupied the side streets of the thoroughfare down which the
enemy was driven, and by their musketry contributed much to his great
losses. For six miles the Tartars were hunted, first through the
suburb and then in the open country, but there was no fight left in
them, and the civilian inhabitants who crowded the streets and roads
gave them no help, and appeared to regard the fighting as a spectacle
arranged for their own amusement. The attitude of most of the Chinese
throughout the campaign, indeed, was one of complete apathy: they
looked upon the war as an annoying but unavoidable interruption to
their daily life, and finding that their conquerors treated them
well, acquiesced in their presence, and made as much money out of
them as possible.
The enemy attacked Chinhai about the same time that he attempted
to wrest Ningpo from us, but was beaten off with ease by the
garrison, largely composed of a detachment of the Royal Irish
under Brevet-Major Grattan. A few days after these exciting little
episodes, the XVIIIth was present at successful raids against
the town of Tze-Ke and other places near Ningpo; but as those of
the Royal Irish who were in the column hardly came into action
it is unnecessary to describe these skirmishes. About this time
Colonel Adams, being invalided home, was succeeded in command by
Lieutenant-Colonel N. R. Tomlinson; and in the month of April three
companies of the detachment at Kulangsu rejoined headquarters.
It has already been mentioned that ever since Sir Hugh Gough’s
arrival he had pointed out that the war would never be brought to a
satisfactory conclusion until, abandoning the policy of attacking
only the towns on the sea-coast, we pushed our way into the heart
of the country, and threatened the Emperor in his palace at Pekin.
After much correspondence between the Ministry at home and the
Governor-General of India at Calcutta, Gough’s strategy was adopted,
and in May, 1842, the XVIIIth was afloat again, this time bound for
Chapoo, where a naval arsenal was to be destroyed before the fleet
entered the river Yang-Tse-Kiang. The place was strongly fortified,
but, as usual, the enemy proved unprepared for anything but a frontal
attack, and as soon as his works were turned on the 18th of May he
was easily routed, except at one point, where the stubborn valour of
the Tartar soldiery cost the regiment dear. Finding their retreat
cut off, three hundred of these men flung themselves into a large
stone house, and determined to take no quarter but to fight to the
bitter end. The building was quickly and skilfully prepared for
defence. The outer windows were manned by picked shots; the interior
passages and the central hall were loopholed; mats were hung to
exclude the light, so that if the British succeeded in making their
way across the threshold they would plunge into semi-darkness, and
not see the loopholes from which they would be shot down by a cross
fire. A party of the Royal Irish tried to force their way into this
death-trap, but were so warmly received that Lieutenant Murray, who
was in command, drew off his men to wait for reinforcements; and
after a similar attempt by some of the 49th had been repulsed, the
house was surrounded by skirmishers to prevent the escape of any of
the enemy. Before long, more companies of the XVIIIth and 49th came
on the scene, and the officer in command of the latter corps, who was
the senior officer present, decided not to press the attack until
the Tartars had been shaken by artillery. The decision was a wise
one, but unfortunately Lieutenant-Colonel Tomlinson overheard some
expressions which he considered a reflection either upon his regiment
or himself, and instantly led a headlong charge towards the entrance
of the house. At the door he fell, so desperately injured that in
five minutes he had ceased to breathe, while every man who tried
to enter with him was killed or wounded. After he was shot down it
became almost impossible to prevent the XVIIIth from rushing madly at
the building, for the men burned to avenge their Colonel, whom they
described as “the best officer who ever said ‘Come on’ to a grenadier
company.” In more formal language General Gough recorded the same
opinion, saying in his despatch that Tomlinson fell “in full career
of renown, honoured by the corps, and lamented by all.”
When a few artillerymen came up with a light gun and some rockets
they opened on the house, but without result; equally fruitless were
the efforts of a party of sailors to set fire to the woodwork of
the upper storeys; then the explosion of a powder-bag made a small
breach in a wall through which a few of the Royal Irish tried to
force their way, only to be driven back with loss. A second attempt
to set fire to the woodwork, however, was more successful, and the
explosion of another powder-bag brought down more of the wall, and
thus exposed many of the Tartars to our musketry. Soon the whole
place was in a blaze, and when at last our men rushed through the
doorway from which they had been so often repulsed, they found
themselves in a hell on Earth. Three hundred Tartars had defended
the building; now all but fifty-three lay dead upon the floor; and
of the survivors nearly all were wounded. Many of their wadded
cotton uniforms had taken fire, and to the horrors of the reek of
blood and the stench of singeing flesh were added the cries of the
wounded, as they feebly strove to beat out the sparks which fell
from the roof upon their clothing. In the midst of this scene of
carnage sat an old Tartar colonel, who, when the red-coats began to
show through the smoke, laid down his pipe, snatched up his sword,
and cut his throat. This stout old warrior failed to kill himself,
and with the rest of the wounded was tended by our doctors, and then
released--a chivalrous recognition of their bravery which greatly
astonished the prisoners and convinced them that the “foreign devils”
were not as black as the Mandarins had painted them. The discovery,
unfortunately, came too late to prevent an epidemic of suicide
among the population of Chapoo. When our men entered the town it
was full of dead: “men, women, and children were found drowned or
hanged; whole families seemed to have destroyed themselves, and some,
from the positions they were in, must have had difficulty and most
desperate resolution to effect their purpose. The wells and every
place where they could find water enough were full of bodies.”[137]
The Chinese are believed to have fought Gough’s little army of
2200 men[138] at Chapoo with 8000 regular troops, 1700 of whom
were Tartars. Their losses were, as usual, enormous--from 1200
to 1500--while those of the British were two officers and eleven
other ranks killed, six officers and forty-six other ranks wounded.
The casualties among the XVIIIth were heavy: Colonel Tomlinson, a
sergeant, and three privates were killed;[139] Lieutenants A. Murray
and E. Jodrell, a sergeant, a drummer, and twenty-seven rank and file
were wounded. One of the pay-sergeants had a very narrow escape: he
was in the habit of carrying the company roll in his forage cap, and
when at nightfall he wanted to make entries in it he found it cut to
pieces by bullets.
As soon as the arsenal, guns, and other munitions of war at Chapoo
were destroyed, the expedition made sail for the Yang-Tse-Kiang,
where we bombarded Woosung, a town at the mouth of the river of
the same name. Though small, the place was heavily fortified, for
the Chinese trusted to its guns for the protection of the lower
reaches of the river. In the capture of Woosung the army played no
part, for the troopships were aground on mud-banks when the sailors
and marines, after knocking the batteries to pieces, landed to take
possession of the town. Two days later, on the 19th of June, the
Royal Irish formed part of a column which marched fourteen miles
inland to Shanghai, destroyed the warlike stores at this great
centre of trade, and then returned to Woosung, to find that during
their short absence some batteries of Royal Artillery, the 98th,
and several Madras regiments had joined the force, and that Major
J. Cowper had come up from Kulangsu to take command of the XVIIIth,
bringing with him the company which had been left to garrison
Chinhai. The fleet remained storm-bound at Woosung until the 7th
of July: then the weather moderated, and the Admiral, Sir William
Parker, ordered his seventy vessels--men-of-war, transports, and
store ships--to weigh anchor for Nankin, now the object of our
operations. This enormous city was the commercial capital of China,
and the centre of a great network of canals connecting Pekin with the
Yang-Tse-Kiang and the southern provinces of the Empire. Once masters
of Nankin, we could stop all inland traffic on the canals, and by
paralysing the commerce of the country bring irresistible pressure
on the Emperor, six hundred miles away in his Court at Pekin. The
task before the Navy was a heavy one. In peace time the mere passage
of so large a number of ships over a hundred and seventy miles of an
almost unknown river would have presented difficulties. Now these
difficulties were increased by the necessity of guarding against
attack, and by the knowledge that before the guns of the fleet could
be trained upon the walls of Nankin we would have to fight the
garrison of at least one large town on the banks of the river. The
steamers scouted upstream, sounding and surveying as they went: the
sailing ships followed in a stately procession many miles in length,
watched by crowds of peasants who gazed in wonder at the “war junks”
of the Barbarians. On the 20th of July, the rearmost of the fleet
reached Chinkiangfu, a walled city fifty miles below Nankin; and
next day Gough landed his troops, now numbering 6664 men. The first
brigade (Major-General Lord Saltoun) was to clear the enemy from a
camp south-west of the town; with the second, Major-General Schoedde
was to attack the northern wall of the town; to Bartley’s brigade
(the third) was entrusted the storming of the western wall. The first
brigade did its work easily; the second had hard fighting before
its bayonets glittered on the northern wall; the third brigade, and
especially the XVIIIth regiment, had exciting adventures in carrying
out the duty assigned to them.
The Royal Irish were the last troops to disembark. They did not land
till seven A.M., when the heat was already so oppressive that the
Adjutant, Lieutenant Graves, persuaded Major Cowper to leave the
men’s great-coats behind, undertaking to provide the entire regiment
with furs from the shops of the pawnbrokers, with whom the wealthy
Chinese regularly stored their winter clothing. To go into action
without great-coats was quite a new departure, but even more daring
was the next order: the men were told to take off their stocks, sling
them over the left shoulder, and unfasten three buttons of their
jackets and three buttons of their collars! These precautions, though
to our ideas not very far-reaching, served their purpose, for while
in other corps numbers of men were knocked over by the heat, not a
man in the XVIIIth suffered from sunstroke. The regiment was making
its way through the suburbs to the western face of the wall, when
an A.D.C. arrived with orders for the Royal Irish to come up at the
double to the western gate, where the General was anxiously awaiting
them. The troops around General Gough were in bad case: many lay
senseless from sun apoplexy; the remainder were so exhausted that
they could only keep up a feeble fire on its defenders. As soon as
the XVIIIth appeared Gough welcomed them with the order “Go on, Royal
Irish, and storm.” “We halted,” writes an officer who was present,
“to tell off a storming party of fifty men, and then with arms at the
trail and bending low, the stormers made a dash down a cross-street
within about twenty yards of the gate, and from the windows of the
houses which ran parallel to the wall, we opened fire on the Chinese
gunners and soon silenced them. The engineers then advanced and
placed a powder-bag against the gate (a very strong one and, as we
afterwards found, strengthened by four or five tiers of sand-bags
piled against it from inside); we were ordered to lie down; the fuse
was lit, and in about ten seconds everything was flying about our
heads. This brought us to our feet in a hurry; we gave a cheer and
dashed into the archway, which was densely filled with smoke; those
who got in first were soon brought to their knees by kicking against
the sand-bags which we could not see, but we had to scramble on as
quick as possible as there was danger of receiving a poke from a
friendly bayonet behind! We got out as black as monkeys, to find
ourselves in a sort of yard, surrounded by high walls, with a second
gate leading from it into the city. We had just started breaking this
second gate down, when we heard a friendly voice behind it shouting
‘Hold on, we’ll open it for you!’” It turned out that the 55th, after
escalading their own wall, had worked round to the western gate,
which the Chinese abandoned when they saw their flank in danger.
The Royal Irish were at once sent to drive the Tartars from the
western wall. They moved off left in front,[140] and as there was not
room on the rampart for four men abreast they marched in threes. The
grenadier company were soon dropped to hold a commanding building
close to the wall; the remainder of the regiment pushed on without
seeing any of the enemy, until a keen-eyed officer noticed a large
number of Tartars emerging from the shelter of some houses on the
town side of the wall. The commanding officer, insisting that they
were not fighting men but harmless coolies, refused to send out
skirmishers to protect the head and right flank of his straggling
column, and the Tartars were allowed to establish themselves in
gardens surrounded by high walls, which made excellent rests for
matchlocks and gingals. As soon as the regiment was within range
they opened a heavy fire upon the leading company, killing Captain
C. J. R. Collinson, wounding Lieutenant S. Bernard, and causing
several casualties in the ranks. The rampart along which the XVIIIth
was marching was so narrow that it was difficult for messengers
to pass rapidly from company to company, and as no orders were
received the men halted for directions: but by the time the enemy
had discharged a second volley, an officer had called upon the Light
company to avenge their captain. Collinson’s “Light Bobs” dashed
down the slope of the rampart, scaled the mud walls and, followed by
the remainder of the regiment, fell furiously on the Tartars, who,
after a stout resistance, broke and fled. Not all, however, of the
enemy had lost heart. Just as the regiment had re-formed after the
charge, a gigantic Tartar rushed towards the line, brandishing a
sword in each hand; the officers, unwilling to send so brave a man
to his death, made signs to him to retire, but in vain, and he was
almost amongst the men when a well-aimed bullet laid him low. The
grenadier company came in for a full share of the excitements of the
day. Their captain, Wigston, noticed some of the Tartars drawn up
across a narrow street leading to his post, and sent a subaltern,
Lieutenant W. Venour, and twelve men to dislodge them. The Tartars
held their fire until the party of grenadiers were close to them, and
then let fly with some effect. Lieutenant I. H. Hewitt with fourteen
men hurried up to reinforce Venour’s detachment, and the street
was cleared after sharp hand-to-hand fighting. Hewitt had a narrow
escape: a Tartar cut at him with his sword, and the blow would have
been fatal had not Private M‘Carthy “raised his musket and parried
it, though unfortunately with the loss of his thumb, the sword
cutting right through the bone, and also through Hewitt’s forage
cap, slightly raising the skin of his head. We left a picket there,”
continues Lieutenant Murray, “as occasional shots were still fired
from the houses. A short time afterwards a Tartar soldier rushed in
amongst the men and stabbed one of them in the side with his knife:
he was shot instantly. We were obliged to set fire to the houses to
drive the Tartars out of them, for we would not let the men follow
them into the buildings.”
Although the troops did their best to stop the frenzy of rage and
terror which seized upon the population after we had captured the
town, the number of people who committed suicide at Chinkiangfu
was as great or even greater than at Chapoo. One instance among
hundreds will prove how determined the Tartars were not to survive
the disgrace of a defeat. When their General realised that the day
was lost he retired to his house, ordered his servants to set fire
to the building, and allowed himself to be burned to death. It was
fortunate for the success of Gough’s little army that the overweening
contempt of the Chinese for foreigners had prevented the employment
of European adventurers to mould and lead their armies. Had the
Tartar troops been trained and disciplined by Continental soldiers of
fortune, as were the Sikhs, the enemies whom Gough was to encounter
in a few years, a great array of British soldiers would have been
required to win on the banks of the Yang-Tse-Kiang victories as
decisive as those of Sobraon and Goozerat.[141] In the capture of
Chinkiangfu two officers and thirty of the other ranks were killed,
eleven officers and ninety-eight other ranks wounded, and three
privates missing. The casualties among the small Naval landing party
were three killed and twenty-one wounded. The XVIIIth lost one
officer, Captain Collinson, and two private soldiers killed; one
officer, Lieutenant S. Bernard, two sergeants, and fifteen privates
wounded.
While the soldiers were fighting on shore, the sailors were doing
invaluable work on their own element by blockading the chief
waterways to Pekin; and in a few days the result of the stoppage
of trade with the capital was so disastrous to the merchants of
China that the Emperor was obliged to sue for peace. But before
negotiations had been opened, Pottinger, Gough, and Parker realised
that the presence of British troops and British ships at Nankin would
greatly stimulate the tardy movements of the Chinese diplomatists,
and on August 9, 1842, the whole force, less a small garrison left to
hold Chinkiangfu, was ready to assault the walls of the commercial
capital of China. But no assault was necessary, as twenty days
later a treaty of peace, this time a genuine one on the part of the
Chinese, was signed on board a British man-of-war. Its terms were
satisfactory: every point on which England had gone to war was ceded
by the Emperor; our national honour was vindicated, and the rights
of our traders secured. During the negotiations dignified courtesies
were exchanged between the Mandarins and the Plenipotentiary. On one
of these occasions the grenadier company of the Royal Irish acted
as guard of honour to Sir Henry Pottinger while he solemnly dined
with the Chinese officials: our late enemies turned out their best
soldiers to receive the English guests, but though Lieutenant Murray
admits that among them were many tall, fine-looking fellows, he
insists that they were “nothing in appearance to our company, who
looked remarkably well, and must have astonished the Chinese much.”
Though the spectators doubtless admired the physique and martial
bearing of the Irishmen who had so often routed the picked troops of
China, they must have smiled at the contrast between the comfortable
dress of the Tartars, who wore long loose coats and boots coming
well up the leg, and the stocks, tightly buttoned shell-jackets and
equally tight white trousers of the British army.[142] The spies
among the crowd, for the Chinese had many very observant secret
service agents in their employ, must have wondered why the infantry
who served on board ship were armed with percussion muskets, while
those who fought on land carried flint-locks.
No sooner had the treaty of peace been officially ratified by
the Emperor of China than the expedition began to descend the
Yang-Tse-Kiang with all speed, for the climate had begun to
tell heavily upon the health of soldiers and sailors alike. So
short-handed from sickness was the crew of H.M.S. _Rattlesnake_ that
the Royal Irish, by this time nearly as much at home on a ship as
in a barrack, helped largely in working her successfully down the
river. At the mouth of the Yang-Tse-Kiang the expedition broke up:
some of Gough’s units sailed for India; others went home, while
the corps ordered to remain in Chinese waters proceeded to their
several destinations. Among the latter was the XVIIIth, which was
sent to Chusan, where its various detachments were assembled by the
end of October, 1842. When the casualty returns were prepared it
was found that though the losses in action had been small, those
caused by dysentery, malaria, and cholera had been very heavy.
Lieutenant-Colonel N. R. Tomlinson and Captain C. J. R. Collinson had
been killed; Major R. Hammill, Lieutenants H. Vavasour, A. Wilson, F.
Swinburn, D. Edwardes, J. Cochrane, G. W. Davis, S. Haly, Hon. C. H.
Stratford, Ensign M. Humphreys, and Assistant-Surgeon J. Baker had
died from disease; six officers had been wounded but had recovered
from their injuries. Among the other ranks nine non-commissioned
officers and men had been killed, seventy-seven wounded, and two
hundred and fourteen had died from illness, accident, or the
effect of wounds.[143] In honour of those who perished a monument
was erected in St Patrick’s Cathedral. It stands in the north
transept--the Walhalla of the regiment, where the old Colours, faded
by the sun in many climes and pierced by bullets in many battles,
overhang the stately memorials by which the Royal Irish regiment has
sought to keep green the memory of its illustrious dead. The numerous
monuments are described fully in Appendix 10, and photographs of
them are reproduced in various parts of the book.
At the opening of Parliament in 1843, the House of Lords passed
the usual vote of thanks to the troops which had taken part in the
campaign. A medal was issued to the officers and men who had served
in the Chinese war; leave was granted to the XVIIIth to add to its
other battle honours the word “China” and the device of the Dragon,
and Colonel G. Burrell, Lieutenant-Colonel W. H. Adams, and Majors J.
Cowper and J. Grattan were awarded the C.B.
Very disagreeable orders awaited the regiment on its arrival at
Chusan. Four companies were to remain there as part of its garrison
until the Chinese had fulfilled all the obligations of the treaty,
while headquarters and the greater part of the regiment were to
occupy the island of Kulangsu, which our Government also held as
a pledge of Chinese good faith. Kulangsu had already acquired the
reputation of being one of the most unhealthy stations in China, and
the Royal Irish soon discovered that its evil reputation was but too
well deserved. According to Lieutenant-Colonel Graves’s statement,
when the headquarters companies landed they found the detachment of
the regiment which had been there for some months in a deplorable
condition. There had been many deaths among all ranks; every one of
the surviving officers was down with fever,
“and there were not thirty men under command of a sergeant who
were fit for duty or could shoulder a firelock.... When the
Headquarter companies landed from Chusan the men were healthy and
well seasoned, but they very soon began to feel the climate, and
before long half the men were on the sick list, and we began to
bury them very fast. I had been appointed Staff Officer for the
island, and at first found much difficulty in getting coffins
quick enough, so I ordered twenty at a time to be supplied by a
contractor at Amoy. Several of our officers died, and at last
I found much difficulty in getting men enough to relieve the
guards. I went to our Colonel, Cowper--who was the Commandant of
the island--and represented that if we did not get a ship sent up
from Hong Kong for the invalids we should very soon have no men
for guard. We got a ship and found her of the greatest benefit;
she was anchored half a mile out of the harbour, and the invalids
sent on board her came back in a week fit for duty.
“A large draft joined from England, about three hundred strong,
together with the women and children. This caused a little stir,
but it was a short-lived happiness: they went down almost as
fast as we could provide coffins for them. We pitched tents and
moved our camp daily about the island, but it was no use--cholera
and fever still continued. The men began to drink to drown
dull care; the officers off the sick list were constantly
on Court-Martial duty, and the Colonel received an official
letter from Headquarters drawing his attention to the number
of Courts-Martial for drunkenness, and directing him to parade
the regiment and reprimand the men for their conduct, which
was alleged to be the principal cause of the severe mortality.
As Staff Officer and adjutant of the regiment I was ordered to
read this letter to the men, which I began to do, but I must
acknowledge I fairly broke down and had to hand it to another
officer to finish. I felt so keenly how our gallant poor fellows
were being sacrificed, after their long, hard services, to a
climate no one could live in, and _how_ they bore it!”
In April 1844, after a hundred and thirty-six officers and men
had fallen victims to the climate of Kulangsu,[144] the regiment
was reunited at Chusan. The next station was Hong Kong, where the
ordinary routine of garrison life in the East was suddenly broken
by an urgent and wholly unexpected call to arms. The people of
Canton, always overbearing and offensive towards Europeans, had
recently insulted and ill-treated British subjects, and their
Mandarins had refused to make redress for the outrages. The British
Plenipotentiary, Sir John Davis, was a believer in the saying “A word
and a blow, and the blow first,” and he determined to teach the mob
of Canton a lesson they would not soon forget. During the night of
the 1st of April, 1847, the Royal Irish, under Lieutenant-Colonel
Cowper, with 23 officers and 509 other ranks, and the 42nd regiment
of Madras Native Infantry, 399 strong, were packed into a couple of
small men-of-war and an armed steamer. Early on the following morning
the flotilla was off the entrance to the Canton river; the troops
were landed, and driving the Chinese artillerymen from the batteries,
spiked the guns. The works higher up the stream were then treated in
the same way, but not without vigorous opposition from the enemy,
whose aim, however, was much distracted by the steady fire of a
party of the Royal Irish, described in the despatches as the “acting
gunners of the XVIIIth, who replied to the batteries in a style
which would have done credit to experienced artillerymen.” As soon
as the ships were off Canton the soldiers occupied the “factories”;
placed them in a state of defence, and made plans for storming the
town. The Royal Irish were looking forward to winning much glory (and
much prize money too!) in the capture of Canton, when the Mandarins,
greatly perturbed by Sir John Davis’s prompt reprisals, hastily made
full atonement for their misdeeds, and the expedition returned to
Hong Kong. They had done a good week’s work: 879 guns, many of great
calibre, had been spiked, much ammunition destroyed, and a greatly
needed lesson given to the Canton roughs--and all without the loss of
a soldier, bluejacket, or marine.
General D’Aguilar, who was in command, mentioned in his despatch the
following officers of the regiment, viz., Lieutenant-Colonel Cowper;
Captain J. Bruce, A.A.G.; Captain Clark Kennedy, Acting A.Q.M.;
Captain J. W. Graves; Captain A. N. Campbell, and Lieutenant E. W.
Sargent, Acting A.D.C.
Before the troops left Canton the British merchants asked for an
officer to train their newly formed Volunteer corps. Captain J.
W. Graves was selected, and with part of the Light company spent
two months in “the factories,” where between drilling his civilian
recruits, drawing up plans for the defence of the settlement against
a sudden rush, and eating the good dinners to which the merchants
invited him, his time was fully occupied. Soon after this detachment
rejoined headquarters the regiment was warned to prepare to sail for
India, and on November 20, 1847, embarked for Bengal on the transport
ship _Balcarres_. Major W. F. Dillon was in command; with him were 24
officers, 42 sergeants, 15 drummers, and 595 rank and file, and when
he arrived at Fort William on January 10, 1848, he found awaiting
him drafts from England amounting to 7 officers, 1 drummer, and 334
rank and file. Thus the XVIIIth began its tour of duty in India with
a total strength of one thousand and eighteen of all ranks.