The Stone Dragon

by Peter Watt

  Andrew was surprised that the Australian doctor should choose journalism over medicine when he considered how difficult it was to study and qualify in that field. But then this man had struck him as intriguing from the moment they had met.

  ‘Well, I must excuse myself to attend to administrative matters,’ Morrison said. ‘If you need to know anything you only have to ask Kai over there. He works for me.’

  John and Andrew glanced across the busy yard crowded with refugees to see a wizened Chinese shouting orders at the confused and despondent men, women and children.

  ‘Kai!’ Morrison called. ‘Come over here and meet these people.’

  Kai desisted from ordering people around and walked over to them. ‘You must look after these people,’ Morrison said. ‘And now I must bid you a good day but will meet with you both again very soon. We have a lot to talk about.’

  As Morrison strode away Andrew introduced himself, his father and Liling in Chinese and the surly expression permanently set on Kai’s face appeared to crack for a brief moment.

  ‘You speak Mandarin with an accent,’ he said. ‘You are not from here.’

  ‘A place in another country called Queensland,’ Andrew replied.

  ‘Is that near Canton?’ Kai queried.

  ‘No, it is nearer where Dr Morrison once lived.’

  ‘Ah, the country of Victoria,’ Kai answered, delighted at being able to demonstrate his knowledge of international geography to the strangers.

  Andrew smiled. His answer was close enough.

  ‘You have the same family name as the woman the lieutenant was searching for,’ Kai continued. ‘I was with him when we went into the city.’

  At the mention of Robert’s search for Naomi, both John and Andrew expressed surprise.

  ‘Will you tell us about that?’ Andrew asked.

  When Kai gave a detailed account of the night patrol into the city John’s perception of the English officer was greatly elevated. It was obvious that Robert Mumford had more than a passing interest in Naomi.

  ‘Could you tell us where Lieutenant Mumford thought that there might be a chance of finding the woman he sought?’ Andrew grilled.

  ‘I could,’ Kai replied. ‘But it would be too dangerous to go there now.’

  John gestured to Andrew to desist from asking any more questions. What he had learned to date could be added to by Mumford himself. Already matters were falling into place.

  John left his son and Liling at the legation’s hospital and returned to Robert’s quarters where he selected a relatively quiet corner to bed down on the stone floor. Like the absence of any wind before a sudden summer storm John drifted into a deep and troubled sleep.

  The distant but constant crash of gunfire ripped John from his sleep and he grabbed for the rifle beside him. Staggering to his feet, groggy from having his rest interrupted, John glanced at a large ticking clock on the officer’s wall. It read 4 pm and he stumbled out of the room into the street.

  A man wearing a white shirt and pants with a revolver strapped to his hip was running by the quarters. ‘What’s happening?’ John shouted

  ‘I don’t know but keep your head down,’ the man flung back over his shoulder.

  John shrugged and returned to his temporary quarters.

  He awoke the following morning before dawn, and went in search of something to eat and drink. He still had a good quantity of coins, as did Andrew, and expected that his money should be good.

  On the street John saw a mass of confused people, mostly European but many Chinese refugees as well. He had decided to walk over to the area known as the Fu, which was designated for the Chinese converts, when he saw Morrison’s servant, Kai, head down, hurrying along the street. When John stopped him Kai informed him that he had left Andrew and Liling at the Fu. Kai provided directions and John strode out to visit the former Chinese palace now commandeered for quarters. As John walked along the street, he noticed soldiers and civilians hurriedly piling bricks and sandbags in open spaces between the buildings as fortification against attack. Considering what he had gleaned about the obvious threat from the Boxers leading up to the siege, John wondered why this had not been done before.

  His path carried him onto the broad street where the Russian legation sat opposite its American counterpart, then across a bridge spanning a canal that took him between the Japanese, German and French legation compounds until he turned north to continue his walk towards the former palace.

  Eventually he reached the Fu, a beautiful and spacious building with ornate gardens, where he saw Andrew and Liling distributing cooked rice to lines of refugees.

  ‘Hello, Father,’ Andrew greeted cheerily, seeing John striding towards him. ‘How did you sleep last night?’

  ‘Very well,’ John replied, propping his rifle against his hip. ‘You wouldn’t have a cup of tea and a bowl of rice for your old man, would you?’

  Andrew spoke to Liling who produced a mug of hot green tea while Andrew filled a bowl with a meal of watery rice and meat.

  John glanced at the food in his bowl. ‘I trust the meat is pork,’ he said.

  ‘Horse meat tomorrow,’ Andrew replied. ‘It seems that we are lucky that the spring races are over and the horses available for consumption.’

  John glanced around and could see a few Europeans tending to the health care of the Chinese. They were predominantly European women doing the aid work and John could hear the languages of Italy, Germany and France besides English being used to people who, although they understand none of them, did understand what the speakers were attempting to do.

  ‘There appears to be no shortage of qualified medical staff here,’ Andrew said, ladling a meal into a bowl being held by an old woman who thanked him before hobbling aside to allow a young mother with a child on her hip to fill her bowl. ‘So, I have decided to join you in Dr Morrison’s militia.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about soldiering,’ John retorted. ‘Stay here with Liling and help the medical staff.’

  ‘I would rather be with you in case we get the opportunity to go into the city and find Naomi,’ Andrew said, reminding his father of their primary mission. John had to cede to that point and said nothing further. The occasional popping sound of gunfire suddenly became more than a distant noise when an empty clay jar exploded on the table only inches from where Andrew was serving the rice. Andrew leaped aside, dropping his ladle. ‘What the bloody hell was that?’ he yelped, looking around him.

  ‘That, son,’ John answered calmly, ‘is what a spent bullet can do. I suspect that the Boxers – or Imperial troops – are closing in on the Fu with sharpshooters.’

  Andrew stared at his father who continued to sip his tea as if nothing had happened.

  ‘I think I will look for Lieutenant Mumford and ask him about his search for Naomi,’ John said, placing his mug back on the trestle and trailing his rifle. ‘I will learn all that he has to tell me about where he suspects she may have been held, and from there we will discuss our own search for your sister. I will also find Dr Morrison and sign up for his militia.’

  ‘Don’t forget to sign me up as well,’ Andrew said, picking up the ladle to resume his assigned duties. ‘If nothing else I can shoot as well as you.’

  ‘That’s your opinion,’ John grinned. ‘Besides, these targets shoot back.’

  Andrew had not fully considered the implications of his decision to volunteer until his father reminded him and now he thought about Tung. Was it possible he could become one of the targets in the Boxers’ gunsights?

  ‘What are you going to do with Liling?’ John asked before he walked away.

  ‘Liling remains beside me,’ Andrew replied without any hesitation. ‘But she can reside here at night. She has already met a woman from Taku who knows her family. She will not be totally alone among strangers.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ John said. As he walked away a ricocheting bullet exploded a fine film of dust in front of him, but he ignored the wayward shot and conti
nued on his way.

  It was early evening before John could speak to Robert, as upon returning to the officer’s quarters he had found him fully clothed on his bed and in a deep sleep.

  John decided to explore the grounds of the legation defences and familiarise himself with the layout. He gazed from the British legation grounds across the broad Imperial Carriage Park to the golden glitter of the tiles of the Imperial palace. It was strange, he thought. This country was so foreign to him although it had been the land of his father, and yet his own son was fascinated with all things Chinese. John turned away from the sight of the Imperial palace quarters to scan the area around the British buildings. Of solid stone, these looked more normal to him even if there was a hint of Oriental architecture in the structures.

  The sporadic rifle shots echoing all around the legation did not cause him to flinch as it did those who had never come under fire before, but John was suddenly aware of another ominous sound in the hot, dry air of the city’s summer. It was not a familiar sound and he cowered when an artillery shell exploded some distance off in the legation grounds. Artillery! The Chinese were shelling them! The stakes had been raised considerably, the Queenslander thought as he saw the dirty, grey dust from the explosion rise above the tiled rooftops of outbuildings not far from where he stood.

  The thump of the exploding artillery round awoke Robert who rolled instinctively from his bed onto the floor. He kneeled for a moment attempting to gather his thoughts and finally rose to his feet when he ascertained that he was intact. Robert knew about artillery bombardments from his days soldiering on the North-West Frontier, and had seen at first hand the terrible wounds shrapnel could cause to the body.

  ‘I see that you are awake, Mr Mumford,’ John said, leaning his rifle against the wall. ‘I need to discuss a matter with you.’

  ‘Speak, Mr Wong,’ Robert said, slipping his service pistol into the holster attached to his belt.

  ‘Do you have any long-term intentions towards my daughter?’ John asked, causing Robert to blink in his surprise at the man’s forwardness.

  ‘I have one regret, sir,’ Robert replied. ‘That I did not signal my love for your daughter before she was taken from us.’

  John nodded. ‘Then I can presume that you would do anything within your power to find her – as I have come to learn that you attempted in the past,’ John said.

  ‘I would, Mr Wong,’ Robert answered. ‘That is an oath on my word as an officer of Her Majesty.’

  ‘I will hold you to your oath,’ John said.

  ‘Some weeks ago I was able to glean intelligence that Naomi may have been held in a house not far from here,’ Robert told him. ‘I made an attempt to storm the house but we were driven back by superior forces. Since then my duties have forced me to remain within the legation compound. But there is not a day that goes past that I don’t pray for the opportunity to attempt another search for her.’

  John could hear the sincerity in the young man’s voice and did not doubt he would assist him find Naomi. Already a plan was forming in his mind how he would do that. It would require the assistance of Dr Morrison’s servant, Kai, and faith in the pass Tung had given him when they parted. But, above all, it would require a lot of luck. He well understood that finding his daughter in a city teeming with hostile forces would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

  ‘I would require information from you on where your intelligence suggests are the weakest points of the Boxers’ perimeter around the legation,’ John said. ‘Do you have that information?’

  ‘I will be coordinating such a plan,’ Robert said. ‘But, at the moment we are blind to what is happening beyond our defences. We do not have much idea of the enemy’s strength, arms or disposition at the moment. Worse still, we are not exactly sure if the Imperial army of the Empress has allied itself to the Boxer forces besieging us.’

  ‘I would suspect that the occasional artillery round passing overhead comes from the Imperial arsenal,’ John said with a wry smile. ‘And I don’t have to be a soldier to guess that.’

  Robert returned the smile. ‘Had you chosen to be, I am sure you would have been a fine soldier. Your daughter proudly boasted to me of her father’s colonial exploits.’

  John was warming to the young English officer and wondered why his daughter had not thought it worth mentioning him in her letters. Maybe she was not in love with him, John thought. Or was she afraid to tell her father she was in love with an English officer, fearing that her father would disapprove of a man whom he might perceive to be one who might desert her because of her race? But then, what male understood the vastly complex workings of the female mind – even that of a daughter.

  ‘Do you have something in mind?’ Robert asked.

  ‘I am hoping that by tomorrow morning you will be able to furnish me with enough information about the Boxer dispositions for me to plan a way into the city,’ John replied. ‘And as soon as the sun goes down I will attempt to make my way in with Dr Morrison’s man to guide me back to that house where you suspect my daughter is being held.’

  ‘My thoughts were a long shot, Mr Wong,’ Robert said. ‘And even if it had been where she was, I would guess that by now the Boxers might have moved themselves to somewhere else in the city. I think what you are planning is foolhardy. It would be better to wait until a relieving force arrives and then go in search of your daughter.’

  ‘You don’t even know if a relieving force is on its way,’ John countered. ‘If I don’t find my daughter very soon, rescuing her will be a moot point if I remain to be massacred along with the rest of you inside the legation.’

  Robert silently agreed with the Queenslander’s summation of their position; cut off from the rest of the world, they had heard nothing of a relieving force coming to their aid. He was pragmatic enough to know it would only be a matter of time before they were eventually swamped by the sheer numbers of the enemy against them. It was not a thought he dared express openly but instead kept up an example of cheerful optimism in front of soldiers and civilians alike.

  Robert rubbed his face with his hand. ‘I would be with you, Mr Wong,’ he said. ‘But my duties here prevent that. Believe me when I say I would not hinder you in your foolish plan if it meant the slightest hope of finding Naomi.’

  ‘I believe you, Mr Mumford,’ John said. ‘I am not even telling my son what I plan to do and ask that you don’t mention it to him either.’

  ‘You have my word,’ Robert replied. ‘I pray that you succeed and I will help to the best of my ability.’

  ‘If I don’t make it,’ John said quietly. ‘I expect you to do all in your power to save my daughter.’

  In the morning he would go to Morrison and request the help of Kai then, after the sun went down, he would find the best way through the defensive perimeter into the city. He had the pass and would exchange his rifle with Andrew for the use of the revolver, which could easily be concealed. As the English officer had said, it was a long shot. But anything was better than sitting out each day agonising over the fate of his beloved Naomi.

  • • •

  The following morning John walked over to the Fu for a meal and to meet with Morrison. He had hardly stepped onto the bridge spanning the Jade River canal when he stepped back to avoid being run down by a stampeding mass of panicked soldiers. As they passed him John could see the uniforms of German, Italian, French, Austrian, Japanese, Russian and American riflemen. He grabbed an American by the sleeve. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked.

  ‘Word has come down the line from that Austrian commander that the defences have been overrun,’ he said, yanking away from John to continue his retreat towards the British compound.

  John knew enough about the defences to realise that, if the Fu was being abandoned, they had just lost three-quarters of the area that they needed to hold the Boxers at bay. A cold chill swept over him. Andrew and Liling were in the Fu and if it had fallen then their lives were in great peril.

  Pushing thro
ugh the soldiers cramming the bridge, John forced his way onto a street leading to the former Chinese palace compound. His rifle was loaded and contained a full magazine of heavy rounds. He was running and came to a stop when he saw only civilians milling around the compound with expressions of confusion and concern.

  With Liling at his side, Andrew saw his father and called to him.

  ‘What in bloody hell is going on?’ John gasped, fighting to catch his breath after the hard run from the bridge.

  ‘From what I can gather,’ Andrew growled, ‘that stupid Austrian naval captain, von Thomann, heard a rumour that the American legation had been abandoned and without checking ordered a retreat back to the British legation. But as you can see we are now without any defence for the converts. As a matter of fact we are now wide open to an all-out attack.’

  The words were hardly out of Andrew’s mouth when their attention was drawn to the south-eastern horizon where a pillar of smoke was rising over the tops of the tiled roofs of the Fu.

  ‘That’s coming from the Italian area,’ John said, remembering that the Italian legation stood at the outer edges of the defensive perimeter. ‘It looks like the attack has started. Time you and Liling came back with me to the British compound.’

  ‘Under the circumstances, I cannot leave these people to the mercy of the Boxers,’ Andrew said, sweeping his hand to the crowd of frightened Chinese filling the open spaces of the former palace.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ John snapped. ‘You have to get out of here before the Boxers arrive. There is nothing you can do for these people.’

  ‘I have my pistol,’ Andrew said, touching the hand grip of the revolver in his belt. ‘You take Liling with you and I will be all right.’

  ‘You bloody fool,’ John snarled, his patience stretched by his son’s gallant but foolish gesture. ‘You are no good to anyone staying here if you are going to get yourself killed.’

  A bullet smacked into a stone column only feet from where they stood, and a tiny chip of stone struck Andrew in the face, causing him to flinch although no harm had come apart from a slight swelling that would turn to a bruise.