The Stone Dragon

by Peter Watt

  The information about the captive girls grabbed Robert’s interest. Was it possible that Naomi may have been spared because she was young and beautiful?

  ‘Thank your cousin,’ Robert said. ‘Tell him that he has done a service for Her Majesty.’

  Kai frowned. ‘My cousin would not care,’ he said. ‘He is Chinese and not a Christian. I think that if the rebels had not robbed him he would have been one of them.’

  Cautiously, both men exited the house lest they be fired on by the nervous soldiers standing guard.

  Robert signalled his men to gather to him. ‘We are going to do a sweep of the street that runs parallel with this one,’ he briefed. He did not tell them why but hoped that they might just get lucky and find the place Kai’s cousin had told them about. It was a slim chance but at least worth taking if they were in the immediate area anyway.

  Leading his men, Robert moved to the end of the street and down the next one, which proved to be wider with less crowded tenements. He could see that one of the houses in the street was lit by lanterns and could hear the raucous voices of men. Only Boxers would be celebrating right now, Robert told himself. With a wave of his hand he signalled in the dim light of the street for his small band of marines to extend into single line.

  Although they were inexperienced the British marines were well trained and fell into their formation, rifles at the ready, for a sweep of the street. It appeared that the Boxers were not expecting foreign troops in the early hours of the morning so far into the territory they dominated. Surprise was on the British officer’s side. Silently, they moved in on the house suspected of holding captives.

  Robert did not see the dozing sentry until it was too late. He was leaning against a wall opposite the house that held Robert’s attention and when the guard realised what had awoken him from his slumber the element of surprise was gone. He scrabbled for the rifle at his feet and shouted a hurried warning.

  Robert swung his pistol across the street and fired wildly. His shot missed, causing the startled guard to scramble into an open doorway without his rifle.

  ‘Go!’ Robert roared at his men, signalling them to storm the house through an open gateway.

  But they were brought to a stop when five armed Boxers spilled onto the street wielding swords and screaming their war cry. A small volley of shots from the soldiers with Robert felled one Boxer and forced the remaining men to retreat back into the gateway.

  Naomi and Meili were torn from their despair by the sound of gunfire outside the wall and Naomi instantly recognised the voice calling orders loudly to his men. ‘It is Robert!’ she cried out in English, confusing Meili.

  ‘What is it?’ Meili asked as Naomi struggled to her feet, waving her arms.

  ‘We will be rescued,’ Naomi shouted, ignoring the Boxers who had poured into the yard with their motley collection of weapons, ranging from modern rifles to primitive spears. ‘It is someone that I know come to rescue us.’

  Meili rose to her feet, already acting on this information from the foreign woman of Chinese blood. If what she had said was true, this was their chance to make a break. But her spirits fell when she saw that the gateway was blocked by Boxers now firing around the corner at the would-be rescuers.

  Naomi fought to ignore her feelings of nausea to stumble towards the gate but Meili grabbed her and pulled her down. ‘We cannot escape yet,’ she said. ‘Not that way. We must pray to the ancestors that your friend is able to defeat Han and his men.’

  Reluctantly, Naomi allowed herself to be pulled away. All she could do for the time being was pray.

  Robert was surprised at the heavy volume of returning fire and any chance of storming the house was gone now as he could see that they were outnumbered and even outgunned. ‘Fall back,’ he yelled.

  His companions withdrew in an orderly manner, shooting as they did. They were fortunate that the street was relatively wide and that the Boxers were firing into the dark. Without aiming, Robert emptied his pistol in the direction of the gate, as it was a matter of providing enough gunfire to suppress any counterattack.

  The hammer of his pistol clicked on an empty chamber and he looked around to ensure his men were safe. Kai had already found shelter behind a low-set stone wall around the corner of the street that they had entered. Robert found him and the soldiers together.

  ‘What do we do, sir?’ one of the soldiers asked.

  ‘We return to the legation,’ Robert said, reloading his pistol. ‘We have done what we were tasked to do.’

  The soldiers looked relieved at their officer’s decision. Warily, they moved out to return to the relative safety of the European compound. Robert led the way, brooding over his lack of success in storming the Boxer compound. It was not as if Naomi had been there, he attempted to reassure himself. It was just that it had been worth a try. He would report his findings and the skirmish with the Boxers to Sir Claude. At least he could try again at the first opportunity to gain information on her whereabouts.

  The firing had tapered off and the Boxers were jubilant in their victory over the foreign soldiers who had dared intrude on their domain. The body of the dead Boxer outside the courtyard was dragged inside and his body stripped to provide a uniform and weapons for the next recruit. Han went among his men as any good commander would, congratulating them and hardly paid any attention to Meili and Naomi slumped in a dark corner of the compound.

  Haggard and beyond caring, Naomi was barely aware that the sun was rising to bake with searing heat the plains and hills around Pekin. Robert’s voice still echoed in her mind but she knew it was nothing more than that – an echo of hope smashed.

  A shadow fell over her body curled into a foetal position. ‘Look at me, foreign woman,’ a voice commanded harshly and Naomi raised her eyes slowly to see the man she had come to hate more than any other creature on earth.

  ‘Your attempt to escape me was foolish,’ he said. ‘As you will soon see I do not tolerate insubordination or incompetence from my men.’

  Naomi was aware that a large copper tub suspended over a wooden fire had appeared in the courtyard, and that Han’s man stood stony-faced beside it, holding a bound and pitifully naked man. The terror in the man’s face caused Naomi to shudder and want to close her eyes.

  ‘This man was supposed to stand sentry duty last night in the street. But from my questioning I have learned that he allowed the foreign devil soldiers to creep up on us,’ Han said menacingly. ‘Not only did he allow that to happen but he also left his rifle in the street and modern rifles are more valuable than the men who carry them.’ Naomi closed her eyes as if to shut out the world.

  ‘Open your eyes, foreign woman, or you will wish death could come quickly.’

  Naomi realised the threat was real and once again opened her eyes. Meili, beside her, huddled away in an obvious state of terror.

  ‘Now, look to the man who is about to be punished,’ Han snarled.

  The prisoner suddenly began screaming for mercy as the soldiers hoisted him to the edge of the tub. It was only then that Naomi realised the oily haze hovering above the rim originated from the tub’s steaming contents.

  Even before the struggling man was lowered feet first into the boiling oil, Naomi was vomiting the last of the bile in her system onto the stony courtyard. The doomed man’s screams pierced the hot air like the sound of hell’s doors opening. Mercy was the silence when he died under the oil now bubbling furiously over the brim and splashing onto the ground.

  ‘I have been informed that you speak English,’ Han said. ‘I may have use of an interpreter and so for the moment you will be useful. What you have seen is a merciful death compared to the one that I have planned for you if you ever attempt to escape from me again. Do you understand?’

  With her eyes down, Naomi nodded weakly. She felt her hair being grabbed as Han yanked her head up. ‘Do you understand that I will not warn you again?’ he spat into her face. ‘You are nothing to me. You are just a worthless cur of the foreign
devils who has betrayed her own people. If I tell you to spread your legs, you will do so with a smile to express your pleasure. If I say to you to eat dog excrement, you will do so and tell me that it is the best thing you have ever eaten.’

  Naomi was hardly aware of the agony in her scalp. All she knew now was that she would stay alive so that she could one day kill Han. Hatred and the desire for revenge had replaced all the physical pain she had ever experienced. She would feign obedience to the Boxer as he expected but she knew the pox-faced commander had underestimated the daughter of John Wong. Her father was with her now in spirit and she would gather his legendary prowess to her to overcome this terrible situation. Even the shame she felt over what had been inflicted on her was gone, and though she knew that she would be killed, it would not be before she removed from the earth this creature who belonged in hell.

  ‘I understand, Master Han,’ she said weakly through cracked lips. ‘I am your servant to do as you wish.’

  Han let go of her hair, turned and strode over to the pot to peer inside. He smiled grimly with satisfaction at the way he had delivered his message to his subordinates. They would need the utmost discipline when the time came to take on the European soldiers at the legation and only the Boxers’ courage and superior numbers would overcome the firepower of the contemptible Europeans.

  Early June 1900

  The Peiho River

  North-east China

  Night was falling over the river as Liling guided the sampan into the shore.

  Tung said that he knew the area and again assured his companions that their money would buy food and a place to stay.

  As the boat was being nosed ashore not far from a small village John wished that he still had his revolver; old instincts told him that there was something ominous about the silence of the hot evening broken only by the sound of a barking dog and the crickets chirping in the dusty paddies, no longer under cultivation.

  ‘You still have command,’ John said quietly to Tung, reaffirming his right to make decisions on the river. ‘We are still in your hands.’

  Tung nodded before leading the way cautiously toward a mud-brick house where a dim light glowed from a doorway. They had almost reached the building when John froze. His nagging doubt about the village proved to be correct when a shadowy figure emerged from behind the building armed with a long spear.

  The others followed John’s example and remained still.

  ‘Who enters the village?’ the man challenged, holding his spear forward in a defensive manner.

  ‘Tung Chi, a Shaolin priest,’ Tung replied calmly. ‘Are you of the Society of the Harmonious Fist?’

  The sentry hesitated, turned and called behind him. Five other similarly armed men appeared in the half light.

  ‘Come forward, Tung Chi,’ one of the men commanded.

  Tung turned to gesture to his companions to remain where they were as he went forward to meet the six armed men.

  ‘Who are they?’ Andrew whispered to his father.

  ‘They are not regular troops,’ John answered, surveying the garb and weapons of the men Tung approached. ‘They are either bandits or Boxers. Either way I don’t like our chances. Be ready to run back to the boat.’

  The situation remained tense as Tung entered into a conversation with the armed men. One of the unknown men suddenly lifted his spear to Tung’s throat and shouted. John felt adrenalin pumping through his body. As they were not in a position to fight then they would have to flee. But just as suddenly the man lowered his spear.

  Tung turned back to John, Andrew and Liling. ‘We are safe for the moment,’ he said. ‘They have agreed to allow us to stay over tonight and continue our journey in the morning.’

  ‘Are they Boxers?’ John asked bluntly.

  ‘They are,’ Tung replied calmly. ‘They have been on a mission in the area, ripping up railway lines.’

  ‘What did you tell them about us?’ John asked.

  ‘I said that you were under my protection and not to be harmed.’

  ‘And they listened to you?’ John asked incredulously. ‘Four wandering strangers.’

  ‘They are men fighting a war against the evil of European occupation – not bandits,’ Tung replied. ‘They could see that you are Chinese, albeit I had to explain that you were from Hong Kong to explain your part-European appearance.’

  A nagging suspicion haunted John. How could Tung, seemingly a total stranger to the armed rebels, convince the Boxers that what he told them was the truth? ‘Are you one of them?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘If you mean a rebel against the foreign destruction of my land, then I must answer yes,’ Tung replied defiantly.

  ‘Are you a Boxer?’ John persisted.

  ‘I promised to assist you to get to Pekin to find your daughter,’ Tung said. ‘Who or what I am is of no consequence. I have my own mission to go to the Son of Heaven and return what is rightfully his. Other than that, your question as to whether I am a member of the society is irrelevant.’

  ‘Father,’ Andrew interjected quietly, ‘Tung has got us safely this far, so I think that we are being less than gracious in questioning his motives.’

  John did not take his eyes off Tung. ‘I don’t know whether I should trust you from now on,’ he said. ‘But my son is right. We do appreciate what you have done for us so far.’

  Tung accepted the apology and realised that this man with equal amounts of European and Asian blood was not a man of compromise. But he was a tough and dangerous man who had proved himself many times in the past, according to Andrew. As for Andrew, he was also a good man but like many young people, an idealist searching for a cause rather than adopting his father’s very practical outlook on life. But idealists could also be dangerous men when fanaticism was applied.

  Tung led them to the hut where the Boxers stood, watching them with little interest. Whatever Tung had said, John thought as they passed them by, had worked well. The only real curiosity they showed was that of normal male admiration for the beautiful Liling.

  Andrew was curious about the Boxers now he was actually in the presence of the warriors he had considered the enemy. They appeared to be disciplined young men of his own age, and from what he had been told by Tung, devoted to freeing China from the unwanted foreigners. They had sprung from the soil of China and without the backing of the Empress taken it into their own hands to put their lives on the line to gain freedom.

  The newcomers remained aloof from the soldiers who crowded into the hut to share a meal of rice and dried fish gruel. Tung was the only one to engage the Boxers in any talk and John noticed the deference they paid to him, heightening his suspicions.

  Andrew observed how Liling kept close to him, eyeing the Boxers with great distrust. Occasionally their eyes met, but Liling would always quickly look away.

  Finally the Boxer warriors found themselves a place to sleep on the earthen f loor and fell into a sound sleep, with one of their number taking his turn to stand guard outside.

  The newcomers found it hard to sleep. Fleas bit at them all night and Andrew hoped that none of the parasites was carrying the dreaded bubonic plague, currently causing great concern in the eastern colonies. Andrew marvelled at how easily his father had drifted into sleep and, as he scratched irritably, wished that he could be more like his father: tough and stoic.

  When dawn finally came, after a stifling, uncomfortable night inside the hut the soldiers stirred to serve up the same food as the night before. The travellers joined the Boxers for the morning meal then bid them a good day to return to their sampan.

  ‘Liling agrees with me that we are only about a day from Tientsin,’ Tung said, when the sampan was shoved out from the shore. ‘We should arrive after dark.’

  John was pleased at the news. From there they could trek overland to Pekin and he would soon be united with his beloved daughter.

  Andrew’s reaction was a little more mixed. Arriving in Tientsin meant that Liling would return to her small village
at the mouth of the river and he wanted to learn more about the young woman. Despite the fact that she was uneducated, could not speak English and had seen very little of the world, Andrew found her fascinating and attractive.

  He gazed across the sluggishly flowing, muddy river at the shoreline and wondered at how different was the world he found himself in now to the dignified stone portals of his Scottish university, where he should be at this very moment continuing his studies.

  The oil-like surface of the river glistened and flickered in the shadow of fires burning along the shoreline of Tientsin. The four travelling in the sampan watched in silence from the water, wondering at the situation ashore. Occasionally the muffled sound of an explosion reached them, along with voices raised in terror.

  ‘It does not look good,’ John said. He turned to Tung and added, ‘Your friends seem to have beaten us here.’

  ‘I will go ashore and see what the situation is,’ Tung said. ‘I will return in an hour. If I am not back you should continue up the river to Tungchow. The girl can be paid to take you further.’ With these parting words, Tung slipped ashore and disappeared into the night. Liling poled the sampan away from the shore and anchored. All they could do was wait, watching and listening to a city being torn apart by revolution.

  In less than thirty minutes Tung waved from the shoreline. Liling poled the sampan onto the riverbank to allow him aboard.

  ‘We will have to continue up the river,’ Tung said. ‘The town is virtually under Boxer control, although the Europeans are gathered in their own area.’

  Andrew felt almost relief at the news. Now it meant that Liling would have to remain with them until at least Tungchow.

  ‘I will pay Liling for the journey,’ John said, confirming Andrew’s hopes.