That shot was short, and whilst they were reloading her the cruiser
fired two more rounds; but our next shell struck her farther forward,
bringing down her funnel and foremast and crumpling her up like
match-wood.
We could see them taking to their boats and pulling ashore, and the men
yelled again with delight, for although her shells had done very little
mischief, and had only wounded one man--a marine behind the "Log
Redoubt"--the noise of their bursting shells was intensely unpleasant
and disconcerting.
The big Krupp was now turned on the cruisers lying to the right of the
town, but these were so much closer in and right down under the land
that it was still more difficult to drop shell anywhere near them.
Of course we could not see anything of them from the gun itself, and had
to chance more or less the direction and also the powder charge, trying
first three bags of powder, which sent the shell almost over the back of
the forts at the entrance, and then two bags, which did not send it far
enough, but made it go ricocheting down the side of the hill before it
burst near the bottom. We tried elevating the sights a little, and
gradually began to drop our shells with some amount of precision.
The _Hong Lu_ was, of course, the ship we were most anxious to hit,
because she was the only ship which was really good for any serious
fighting.
I was watching the men working like demons inside the gun-pit, hauling
the big shell and the bags of powder from the magazines, and training
her with the clumsy tackles, when presently Dr. Richardson called me.
He had found a little hollow in the side of the hill overlooking the
sea, and there he had brought all the wounded men and was busy among
them still, with monkey-jacket off and sleeves rolled up.
He was bandaging a marine who had just been struck by a shrapnel bullet.
It had struck him a slanting blow on the back of his head, and he sat
there gazing stupidly in front of him, supporting himself mechanically
with his hands as he swayed unsteadily.
When he had finished the bandage, Dr. Richardson lowered him on his back
in the grass, and injected something into his arm with a syringe which
the sick-berth steward handed him.
He shoved the needle right through the skin, and I thought that the man
would surely yell, but he only opened his eyes for a second and then
closed them again.
"Now, Glover, if you have nothing to do, try and get some cocoa for
these fellows."
I was only too jolly glad to do anything for them--there were nearly
twenty of them huddled in a sheltered corner, most of them apparently
asleep, and one or two groaning terribly.
I stepped across to Sergeant Haig, and the stern old man got hold of
some cocoa and some water out of a breaker, and I hunted up some fairly
dry wood for the fire, and in time we got it hot. I had to carry it
back myself, as he would not leave his men. When I had done this, and
everyone who was not unconscious had had some of the cocoa, Dr.
Richardson sent me to get blankets and any oil-skins I could collect.
The blankets were not difficult to find, for they were all under that
big tarpaulin, but very few men had their oil-skins, and those that had
them were not any too willing to part with them.
But I managed to bring back half a dozen, and we covered up all the
wounded we could.
Mr. Pattison looked simply awful. He had lost a tremendous lot of
blood, and his head was covered with bandages; but his face was a horrid
purple colour, and he was puffing out his cheeks and blowing through his
lips every time he breathed.
"Hasn't come round yet," Dr. Richardson told me.
"Will he die?" I asked anxiously, for everybody had been awfully sorry
for him ever since he had lost destroyer "No. 1", and I, of course, knew
too that he was frightfully gone on Milly, and wanted to see him get
back his luck.
"Can't tell, Glover; hope not;" and Dr. Richardson sat down wearily and
tried to light his pipe.
"Haven't we done splendidly so far, sir," I said, opening my jacket to
shield him from the wind as he struck his damp matches.
"Ask Pattison," he answered, shrugging his shoulders.
Captain Hunter came down just then to see how the wounded were getting
on, so I slipped away, and, to tell the truth, was not at all sorry.
And, also, being near so many men who had been hit made me feel rather
frightened.
* * * * *
I had better explain to you now exactly how we were situated at this
time. All told, one hundred and fourteen men and ten officers had been
landed. Of these seven had been killed and eighteen wounded, including
Mr. Pattison, but not including Captain Williams (nor indeed Captain
Hunter and Mr. Saunderson, who both had skin wounds, and several of the
men as well).
This left us thirty seamen and fifty-four marines, one of the wounded
blue-jackets and three of the wounded marines being still able to handle
their rifles whilst lying on the ground behind the sand-bags.
The marines were manning the breast-works and the blue-jackets the Krupp
gun and the two Maxims, Mr. Gibbins being in command of the big gun, and
Collins the Sub in command of the Maxims.
The sand-bag breast-works we had made in the morning were now vastly
improved, and were much more substantial, because the men, when not
firing, had dug away the earth behind them and strengthened them in
front with the earth thrown out. Each man, in fact, had vied with his
neighbour in digging himself farther into the ground, so that actually
there was now a trench behind the breast-works.
The rain, too, had soaked into the bags and made them more heavy and
bullet-proof.
Captain Williams's Log Redoubt ran right across the side facing Bush
Hill, and was so high that it kept off a great many of the bullets from
there, and made it almost safe to walk about the top of the hill, if you
only stooped down.
The Maxim redoubt, too, at the harbour end of this breast-work, was
quite strong and nearly four feet high, and Mr. Collins and his men
added to it whenever firing was slack.
The town itself was hidden from us by the line of smoke from the
smouldering bushes about fifty yards down the slope of the hill. Hardly
a shot came from that direction. None either came towards Sergeant
Haig's redoubt or from the sea at our rear.
It was nearly mid-day, and the field-guns were still shelling us, but I
think that the noise of their shells was the worst part of them so long
as we kept under cover. Although several had burst right in the centre
of the plateau during the last hour, nobody had been touched during that
time. These were all common shell,[#] for they appeared to have run
short of shrapnel, or found that they could not rely on the fuses
bursting properly.
[#] Thin-walled shell with a large bursting charge. Shrapnel shell have
a small bursting charge and scatter round bullets when they burst.
The men had become so used to these shells, that if one burst they
hardly turned to look at it. Sometimes you would see a man screw
himself down more firmly into the ground; but most of them took no
notice at all, and joked amongst themselves or jeered at the unfortunate
signalman, or one of the Maxims' crews, who happened to be in the open
and had to throw himself on the ground to escape the flying splinters.
The Commander did once try to reach those guns with a Maxim, but the
range must have been well over two thousand yards. We could not see
where the bullets were going, and certainly they had no effect on the
people working them.
Once or twice, though, when the firing from the bushes became brisk, we
soon made them ease down by letting off fifty or sixty rounds into Bush
Hill, and Collins kept both the crews very much on the alert, with belts
of cartridges ready to pump out bullets in case the enemy tried to make
another rush.
We had a fair amount of ammunition left, a fair amount of water, and
plenty of provisions, and so, all things considered, we were pretty
comfortable.
The rain too had ceased, the wind also began to lose force, and every
now and again the sun came out, though not for long enough to dry our
dripping clothes.
Captain Hunter and the Commander had been all this time walking up and
down the plateau as if it were the _Laird's_ quarter-deck, or standing
on the edge and watching to see where our big shells were falling. They
and Mr. Gibbins, who had to climb up to the sighting-platform each time
the gun fired, were the only people much exposed to danger. The
Commander did not take shelter, I am sure, because the Captain did not,
and to give the men confidence; Captain Hunter because he thoroughly
enjoyed the excitement.
Down below us we could see little "No. 3" a mile out to sea, the
_Sylvia_ not far from her. Both were having a very bad time of it, half
smothered in spray and both rolling heavily--the _Sylvia_ because she
had very little of her cargo of coal left and was very high in the
water, and "No. 3" because she always did so.
Right away across the island, beyond the entrance, the _Laird_ and the
_Strong Arm_ were steaming backwards and forwards, and they too were
making pretty heavy weather of it. I wondered whether they could see us
at all, and thought how Mellins and Toddles must wish that they were up
here with me.
"No. 2", half buried in the heavy seas off the corner of the island near
the forts, was doing her best to keep up communication between the big
ships and the _Sylvia_ and "No. 3".
Mr. Lang always seemed to have the rotten jobs to do; but I have heard
that this was because he was something like Mr. Pattison, and never
thought of anything except getting close to the enemy, and Captain
Helston had never forgotten the loss of "No. 1".
The big Krupp was now beginning to drop her shells quite close to where
the cruisers, torpedo-boats, and the remaining (Patagonian) destroyers
were lying. One had fallen almost aboard the _Hong Lu_, but we could
not rely upon any shot with the least degree of accuracy. However, all
of them had started to get up steam, clouds of black smoke coming up
through their funnels, and the Commander thought immediately that they
might try and escape, so Captain Hunter sent me with Gordon the
signalman to try and report this to Captain Helston.
The signalman had previously found a little open spot on the hill with a
good background, against which his flags could be seen from the sea, and
he began waving them vigorously from side to side, whilst I watched
through my glasses to tell him directly the signalman on board the
_Sylvia_ or "No. 3" spotted him. "No. 3" it was who first ran up the
answering pendant.
"Them _Sylvia's_ don't think of nothing but sleepin' an' eatin',"
growled the signalman, and commenced slowly semaphoring "Captain Hunter
to flag-ship.--Am dropping shells into harbour, and ships are rapidly
getting up steam. All quiet up here."
I saw that "No. 3" had taken in the message, and she hauled down the
answering pendant and began to steam towards "No. 2" till it was
possible to pass it on to her.
Presently "No. 2" had also received it, and hoisted flags to call the
_Laird's_ attention. Her signalmen must have been very much on the
alert, for almost immediately her answering flag went crawling up--a
tiny little patch in her rigging--to her mast-head, and I could see "No.
2's" signalman perched on the unsteady bridge, half smothered with spray
and semaphoring with his flags.
Down came the flag aboard the _Laird_, and I could imagine the signal
midshipman already tearing down the bridge ladder to take the message to
Captain Helston.
"That'll cheer 'em up, sir, out there in the wet," said the signalman,
as I climbed up again to report to Captain Hunter that I had managed to
pass it through to the flag-ship.
I was sent down to wait for any reply, and found the signalman watching
the _Laird_ through his telescope. "She's just going to make a signal
from her mast-head semaphore, sir," he said. So I stood by to write it
down as he spelt out the letters.
[The mast-head semaphore consists of two large black-and-white arms,
which can be worked from the bridge below.]
"I.F--E.N.E.M.Y--L.E.A.V.E--H.A.R.B.O.U.R," I wrote down as he sung out
the letters, and the message continued, "Endeavour to support me with
your gun. 'No. 3' and 'No. 2' are to rejoin the squadron, and _Sylvia_
to act independently."
I was just rushing up hill with this when the signalman sung out,
"They've started again, sir," and spelt out, "Officers and men, _Laird_
and _Strong Arm_, congratulate you all on success. Repeat signal to
'No. 3' and _Sylvia_."
I left him obeying the last order, and took the signal to Captain
Hunter.
He and the Commander smiled grimly.
"Those torpedo-boats and destroyers will never dare to go out in this
weather," I heard the Commander say. "The _Hong Lu_ might possibly run
away, though she certainly couldn't fight in this weather, and those
other two old tubs could not even run away." He was right, too, for
though they all did weigh anchor directly afterwards, they never
attempted to leave the harbour; but, whilst the big ships began slowly
steaming round it, merely keeping steerage-way on, the destroyers and
torpedo-boats moved in so close to the land that it was impossible for
the big Krupp to touch them.
I felt quite sad to signal, "Cruisers not attempting to leave
harbour--steaming slowly to avoid shell", and knew how dreadfully
disappointed they all would be.
"If only this gale would blow itself out, we might tempt them out, even
now," I heard the Commander say.
For the next half-hour we tried our utmost to hit the _Hong Lu_, but as
she was constantly on the move, and the clumsy gun could not even train
steadily, but went groaning round its roughly-made turn-table in a
succession of jerks, it was evidently impossible to do so.
Then we tried another scheme to lay the gun for a certain spot on the
cliff opposite us, with a very small charge of powder behind the shell.
A man at the edge signalled whenever the _Hong Lu_ in her circling came
towards it. Mr. Gibbins stood by with the firing lanyard and fired
directly he could see the top of her fore-mast in line with that spot on
the cliff--the top of her fore-mast being the only thing he could see
from the sighting-platform, and then only when she happened to be right
on the far side of the harbour.
Well, we never did hit her, nor any of the others either. They never
gave us a chance; tumbled to our plan directly and stopped their
engines. Then, when the blue-jackets had struggled with the gun and
trained her in a different direction, the _Hong Lu_ would be out of it
again. They evidently had people signalling the movements of the gun
from the cliff above them.
If we could only have made certain of our powder charge it would have
been more easy; but even with, say, only one bag and a half of powder,
the shells would never drop in the same place twice running, though,
whether it was due to the powder being old and bad, or the gun too
worn-out, I do not know.
It was frightfully disappointing, and even the Commander showed signs of
irritation. Mr. Gibbins and his sweating gun's crew were simply
furious.
The poor old gun was by this time simply white with bullet splashes, and
looked quite helpless as it wobbled from side to side and puffed out its
erratic shells.
The marines, too, had constantly to be shifting away from Mr.
Saunderson's breast-works so that it could fire over them, and this
annoyed them.
* * * * *
Now that the rain had ceased, the bushes began to burn quite furiously,
fanned by the wind, and the cloud of smoke stretched right across our
front, rolling down towards the town. The fire had left a clear space
of blackened twigs and half-burnt grass for nearly sixty yards in front
of Mr. Saunderson's breast-works, and it was lucky enough for us that it
had done so.
There had been a complete lull of firing, and I had gone across to yarn
with Mr. Collins, to whom I had not yet spoken.
He was in the Maxim redoubt at the corner, strengthening it with sods of
turf, and he winked at me as I came near him. "Having a good time,
Glover?"
"Ra-ther," I said. "Wouldn't Mr. Parker like to be here too?"
"He's a splendid chap," said Mr. Collins. "Never thinks of himself, and
sent me up here without my asking. Do you know, he had every mortal
thing ready--except the oil-drums, of course. The men even had their
leather gear on, and water-bottles filled, before he got the Commander's
signal. He thought he might want reinforcements."
"I rather expected to see Jones come ashore," I said.
"Poor old Jones is on his beam-ends, groaning in his hammock, pretty bad
with rheumatism or something like it. That day on the ledge in the rain
was too much for him. You're a pretty lucky chap to get ashore--the
only midshipman of the whole crowd," he continued. "How did you manage
it?"
"Well," I said, rather sadly, for I had at one time been conceited
enough to imagine that I'd been chosen for ability, "the Commander knows
a cousin of mine, and she asked him to look after me."
Mr. Collins smiled somewhat sarcastically. "If I hadn't had an aunt who
knew an admiral, who'd known Helston years ago, I shouldn't have been
here either."
"He seems rather down on me now, though," I said. "Whenever I go near
him he sends me away."
"Can't you guess why, you fool?" Mr. Collins asked, hammering down a big
load of earth his men had brought him.
"No; I thought I'd done something wrong."
"Silly young ass! Why, he and the Captain are simply being potted at
from those bushes beyond us, and he doesn't want you to be bowled over.
He won't take cover either; he can't, I suppose, while the Captain
struts about enjoying himself. It may be jolly plucky, and Hunter is as
grand a man as ever lived, and I'd follow him, and we'd all follow him
anywhere, but he's simply playing the fool."
"Oh!" was the only thing I could say.
We were interrupted by one of the Maxim gun's crew pointing down the
slope of the hill just beyond the line of smoking bushes.
"Beg pardon, sir, but I think there's a heap of natives down among them
there bushes."
"Go back and tell the Captain, Glover," Mr. Collins told me, stepping
inside the redoubt and calling his men back to the Maxim.
"Go quietly."
I had hardly left him before the most frightful yells came from below
and from Bush Hill; out from the cloud of smoke burst hundreds and
hundreds of screaming Chinamen, and from Bush Hill a most awful fire was
opened. I could hear the rattling of a Maxim, and a fearful hail-storm
of bullets swept across the level top of the hill.