by Peter Watt
‘I went to visit my mother,’ Meili lied. ‘I have always meant to return to the Honourable Commander Han.’
‘We have missed your cooking,’ the Boxer said in a more friendly tone.
Meili waited until the remaining Boxers were distracted and edged her way inside the building where she knew Han had his private quarters.
‘Naomi,’ she called softly, her heart pounding with fear, expecting at any moment for Han to step forward and strike her down.
‘Meili?’
‘Have you been hurt?’ Meili asked, seeing Naomi curled on the bed.
Naomi rose and rushed to her friend to embrace her. ‘Oh, Meili, my sister, I thought that I might not see you again.’
‘I have been sent by Commander Tung to see that you are still alive,’ Meili said, extracting herself from the embrace. ‘Your brother is safe and well,’ she added.
‘I cannot remain here,’ Naomi whispered, despite the din of gunfire and exploding artillery shells in the distance. ‘If Han is killed I will be executed, and if he returns, I think I would rather kill myself than ever feel his stinking breath on my cheek again. Oh, Meili, please help me.’
Meili frowned. She had been instructed to ascertain Naomi’s welfare and report back, but had no further instructions. Suddenly they both became aware of a strange silence that descended on the city. The firing died away to be replaced with a continuous rolling boom.
‘What is that?’ Meili asked. ‘What is that other sound?’
Naomi realised immediately what the distant booming meant. ‘It is our guns,’ she said. ‘It means that the siege will soon be over. When the European troops arrive, we will be saved.’
‘We will be slaughtered,’ Meili cautioned. ‘The foreign devils will hunt us all down, and avenge themselves on us.’
Hearing her grimly delivered statement, Naomi meant to reassure her friend this would not be so, but realised that she might well be right. The European soldiers would view all Chinese as less than human. It was their way and men like Tung would be considered less than criminals for being Boxers. ‘If Tung cannot come for me, I shall go to him,’ Naomi said. ‘If I stay, I am surely dead.’
‘You cannot walk out of here,’ Meili said, gripping Naomi’s arm. ‘The guards will kill you.’
‘I would rather risk leaving now,’ Naomi replied. ‘It is the only chance I have if the relief force is almost in the city. I am a British citizen and the British respect that regardless of my skin colour. It seems that the Boxers and the Imperial troops will have more to worry about than a lone Chinese girl wandering the streets.’
‘I have a plan,’ Meili said. ‘I know the soldiers who guard you and they appear to accept that I have returned of my own free will. I will promise my body to them and while I have lured them away from guarding the gate you will slip out.’
‘You cannot do that,’ Naomi said in a shocked voice.
‘Why not?’ Meili shrugged. ‘It is not a matter of great importance to me anymore.’
Naomi stared at the young girl and could see that she was telling the truth. Their worlds were so far apart, Naomi thought, but she loved Meili for her selfless gesture.
‘What will you do when you are finished with the men?’ she asked.
‘I will demand that they pay me money!’ Meili grinned. ‘But I know they will not. Then I will leave in my disgust at their meanness, and catch up with you.’
Naomi hugged Meili to her and the Chinese girl pushed her away, embarrassed that the foreign-born Chinese girl should think she was doing anything very special.
‘Kwan Lee,’ Meili called to the guard at the gate. ‘You are so big and strong and I would like to go to the storeroom with you.’
The guard could hardly believe his luck. Looking quickly around to see if he was being observed by any of the other men and seeing that the coast was clear, Kwan Lee left his post by the gate to follow Meili into the dark.
Naomi braced herself, and when Meili and the guard had disappeared into a room off the courtyard, she slipped across the stones to disappear through the gate into the narrow street now filled with armed soldiers moving up to join their comrades in the human wave attacks being launched against the legation defences. In the dark she was hardly noticed among the milling troops and made her way towards the Forbidden City where she knew she would find Tung and her brother.
Lieutenant Simpson moved along the line of his marine defenders, encouraging each soldier with promises that they would soon see the stars and stripes leading the allied relief force into Pekin – at least he hoped it would be an American force. The sun was rising and first light was a dangerous time. It was the time Chinese sharpshooters could find targets among the defenders.
‘Keep your head down, sir,’ a marine cautioned as the bullets continued to tear the air around them.
He reached the end of the line, where he knew his civilian attachment and the contingent’s good luck talisman would be. He found John Wong sitting with his back to the sandbags. Blood soaked his once white shirt and his eyes stared blankly at the sky. As if asleep, in his lap lay Private Larry Gilles.
Simpson froze. How could this happen? They had been so close to being saved. The marine officer stepped up to the rampart.
‘I didn’t even see it happen,’ John said. ‘I only realised at first light that the young fella was dead.’
Lieutenant Simpson picked up the dead marine’s Krag rifle and bandolier of ammunition. This was no time for sentimentality. Every rifle and round was desperately needed if they were to survive until the relief force fought its way into the city.
‘We will give him a Christian burial,’ Simpson said in a sympathetic voice. ‘He was a good marine and did his duty.’
A marine sergeant and private retrieved the body of Private Larry Gilles, leaving John alone at the end of the line. He positioned himself at the loophole facing the direction of the enemy attacks and surveyed a scene of carnage. Bodies of Chinese soldiers and Boxers lay heaped where they had been shot down. Black flies were already settling on the freshly killed bodies as here and there a body twitched, indicating a man moaning in his pain. John felt nothing for the wounded Chinese soldiers. The constant fighting had numbed his soul.
Andrew had sewn the flaps of skin together, where a bayonet had torn through Tung’s side. It had not been a fatal wound but would be subject to infection if not cared for properly. It was mid-morning and the day hot and steamy as Andrew squatted by Tung, lying on his back, recovering from the secondary wound of a severe blow to the head, that had actually put him out of the fight with the Japanese troops at the Fu during the night.
‘How do you feel?’ Andrew asked.
‘I have a bad headache and my vision is blurred,’ Tung rasped, licking his dry lips. ‘Do you have any water?’
Andrew produced a beaker of water and held it to Tung’s mouth. Around them lay the bodies of the wounded and dead while blood dried in sticky puddles and the flies buzzed with their irritating song of death. Most noticeable was the silence, broken only by the moaning of the wounded, the occasional rifle shot and the constant, distant thud of artillery.
Tung drank down the water and licked his lips. ‘We have lost,’ he said to Andrew. ‘It is time that we must leave.’
Andrew sat back on his haunches. ‘Where would we go?’ he asked.
‘China is a big country,’ Tung replied. ‘I think that we should flee north.’
‘I cannot leave without finding my sister, and I must ensure that my father is safe,’ Andrew replied.
‘I understand,’ Tung said. ‘I too must find Naomi. Your sister trusted me to protect her and I have let her down.’
Andrew gripped Tung’s hand. ‘It is not your fault Han took her,’ he said. ‘All I can do is pray that she is safe.’
Tung struggled to his feet. His shirt had been removed and he winced when he raised his arm. ‘We need to get rid of these clothes,’ he said. ‘We need to find the clothing of a coolie if we are t
o break out of here.’
When Andrew assisted Tung to the door of the building that had been his first aid station, both men froze in their shock. Walking towards them were Meili and Naomi.
They saw each other at the same time and Naomi broke into a run to fall into Andrew’s arms. She was weeping as Tung stood by, relief clearly reflected in his face.
Naomi then turned to Tung. ‘Commander Tung,’ she asked in a concerned voice, ‘is your wound severe?’
‘Your brother has cared for me,’ Tung replied. ‘But I am no longer a commander. I fear that we have lost and I am now just Tung Chi.’
‘Is it all over?’ Naomi asked.
‘The relief force is already at the gates of the city,’ Tung said. ‘It is only a matter of time before the siege is lifted and you can rejoin the Europeans safely. I am sure that your father will be overjoyed to see you.’
Naomi turned to Andrew but his silence disturbed her. ‘Do you hear that?’ she asked. ‘We will be able to seek out Father and go home.’
‘I am home,’ Andrew said quietly.
Stunned, Naomi stared at her brother. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘I am staying with Tung,’ Andrew answered calmly. ‘This is now my country and I can do more good for the people by remaining here. I may not be a doctor but I have enough knowledge to help many who might otherwise die. I am Chinese – not a Chink or Celestial as I am viewed in European society.’
‘You were born in Queensland,’ Naomi attempted to reason. ‘You only have another year of medical training before you can practise.’
‘I did not need the final year to treat the wounded that were brought to me,’ her brother answered. ‘I can train people like Meili to work as nurses in the villages. There is so much I can do here, my beloved sister, to help China become an independent nation.’
Naomi fell silent. She could see the fire of conviction burning in her brother’s eyes and knew that he was as stubborn as their father. Instead, she embraced her brother and whispered in his ear. ‘I will always love you and include you in my prayers every day.’
Andrew laughed. ‘When did you ever pray every day, little sister?’ he said, yet feeling a deep affection for her. ‘Better that you send me medical supplies from time to time.’
‘I should make my way to the legation,’ Naomi said.
‘That would not be wise until it is certain that the legation is secured by the invading forces,’ Tung said. ‘It would be better that you remain with us until we have news the legation is relieved.’
Naomi could see the sense in Tung’s argument. But did her ready acquiescence mean that she was reluctant to leave Tung?
Mid August 1900
Pekin
The armed forces of Britain, Japan, France, America and Russia were poised to launch the all-out assault on the city. Under the command of General Gaselee, the British moved up two artillery pieces to batter the main gate to the Shawomen section of the outer walls, and the guns did their job, as the Chinese defending the gate fled. The way was open, but Gaselee was concerned that his American and French allies might turn their artillery on his British troops, so the Union Jack was flown from a Chinese pike above the wall where, on the other side of the imposing wall, the British came across a sea of little tents deserted by the Chinese. Cooking utensils and military equipment lay about among the tents and not a soul was to be seen when the British troops burst into the city through the captured gateway.
Gaselee followed the rapid entry with detachments being dispatched to seize critical strategic points while he commanded the main force to advance parallel with the Tartar Wall. Their advance was not hindered by Chinese troops and the silence was only broken by the crashing of doors closed after the still-fleeing Chinese troops. It was only when Gaselee turned north to seek out the sluice gates on the canal running through the legation area that his soldiers ran into any opposition. Rifle shots met his men and return fire suppressed the Chinese marksmen on the wall.
The flags of Russia, America and Britain were seen hanging limply on their masts above the wall in the still, oppressive heat of the day. Gaselee halted his force, as a rumour had swept through the ranks that the city had fallen to the Chinese. As the British gazed up at the wall the lone figure of an American marine appeared, waving a flag and signalling in morse, Come in quickly by the sluice gate. A rousing cheer greeted his message and the troops swept towards the gate. US marines tugged frantically at the perpendicular timber bars used to block the entrance, even as bullets whipped through the ranks of the advancing British soldiers and a small artillery shell exploded before them. Not all the resistance was gone from the Chinese army.
But the British surged forward to pass through the battered American legation to reach the British legation lawns, where they were met by Captain Wray of the Royal Marines who, in turn, introduced to Lady MacDonald the sweating and filthy British officer clutching a flag.
‘I have no idea who you are, young man,’ Lady MacDonald said in her most patrician voice, ‘but I am simply delighted to see you.’
Robert Mumford had joined a party of volunteers to sally forth into the Fu on a reconnaissance mission. Former positions occupied by the enemy were now deserted and when he and the party he was with continued they broke into an adjoining street littered with bricks, broken and rusted weapons, piles of spent brass cartridges, and the bones of many Chinese, some with tufts of pigtails still adhering to the skulls. Fat crows cawed their protests at having their feasting disturbed, and fully fed dogs slunk away from what remained of those corpses still retaining any flesh.
At the edge of what had been the original grounds of the legation they came across bowls of rice ready to eat and cooking fires still smouldering. The reconnaissance party did not stop but continued their advance, seeing Chinese soldiers fleeing ahead of them, flinging off uniforms and leggings so that they could run faster. They were at the pink-tinged walls of the Forbidden City of the Empress when they had a view of long columns of Chinese infantry marching rapidly north, while their cavalry galloped as hard as they could alongside the footslogging infantry. Robert realised that he was witnessing an army in full retreat and knew then that the fighting was finally over.
John stood with many of the tired and gaunt defenders, now buoyed by the magnificent sight of the dashing Indian Lancers and cavalry mounted on their war horses parading before them. The fierce-eyed, bearded, dark-skinned men of the British army were a magnificent sight with their tall red turbans, and the Indian mounted troops were followed by British infantry.
John found himself cheering with those either side of him. That he had survived almost two months of constant combat was not enough for him. Now he was in a position to go in search of his children and he cheered for this thought alone.
‘It is finally over,’ Liza said, slipping her hand into his.
John had not heard her approach and was surprised by her gentle and loving gesture.
‘The fighting is over,’ John said. ‘But my mission is about to be resumed.’
‘We have to leave now,’ Tung said to Andrew.
They could see the city emptying of Tung’s former comrades and had obtained coolie clothing for themselves, to merge with the columns of refugees fleeing the city now re-occupied by the foreign devils. Meili had even scrounged some rice and dried fish for them and only Naomi stood aside. Tung looked to her.
‘I will go to the legation and assure myself that Father is safe,’ she said. ‘I have a duty to him.’
Andrew stepped forward to clasp his sister in a warm embrace. ‘It is the right thing to do,’ he said.
‘What do I tell him of your decision to remain in China?’ Naomi asked.
Andrew shook his head sadly. ‘It might be better if he thought I had been killed. I don’t think Father would understand my decision to give up my studies and join the cause to free China.’
‘I cannot lie about your decision,’ Naomi answered. ‘Father has a right to know his o
nly son’s fate.’
‘Hurry,’ Tung prompted, cutting across the temptation for brother and sister to prolong what might be the last time they would ever see each other. ‘We can use this time to slip away. One of my men has told me that there is still fighting along the Tartar Wall where the Russian Cossacks are attempting to force their entry.’
Andrew withdrew from the embrace of his sister. ‘I know you will find a way to explain my decision,’ he said, turning to join Tung and Meili.
Naomi watched them slip away. It was time to go and find her father.
The danger was not over. A few braver Chinese troops remained behind in the city to snipe at the soldiers of the relief force, and casualties occurred among civilians and soldiers alike. Naomi moved cautiously along the litter-strewn streets. She could see the Tartar Wall looming ahead, and questioned her wisdom not to wait a little longer before attempting to enter the besieged compound. But the sight of a tall Sikh soldier standing guard at a gate into the legation compound cheered her.
She began to walk towards him when suddenly the crack of a bullet brought the soldier down. Naomi froze. Even now with safety in sight she was unable to proceed without the danger of a Chinese marksman targeting her. She turned and began to walk back along the street, seeking sanctuary until she could be sure of a safe entry.
‘You have returned to me,’ a voice snarled from a doorway.
Naomi felt sick. How could she have been so close to safety and now have to confront the man she most feared and hated? She wanted to run, preferring the chance of being shot at the gate where the wounded Sikh soldier lay, but her choice was snatched from her when Han stepped out of the building with two of his bodyguards.
‘Seize her,’ he ordered and strong hands gripped her by the arms, dragging her inside the building. Over her shoulder Naomi could see a group of rescuers dragging the wounded Sikh inside the gate. She had been so close to being saved.