It was immediately apparent to Hope that the Chinese had spared no effort in strengthening their river defences. The large fort on the south side now had mud ramparts almost half a mile long, with three commanding towers within the perimeter. A similar fortification had been built on the north bank and a little way upstream could be seen two smaller forts, one on each bank. Furthermore, the navigable channel had clearly been blocked against the passage of anything larger than a rowing boat by a series of formidable obstacles.
Hope sent in a message to the Chinese commander, demanding the removal of the barriers. He was assured that they were only there to keep out pirates and promised that the channel would be cleared presently. Instead, the Chinese continued to work on their fortifications. On 21 June he issued an ultimatum to the effect that if the obstacles had not been removed in three days’ time, he would remove them by force, anticipating little more trouble than Seymour had encountered the previous year.
Nevertheless, as a precaution he sent a reconnaissance party to examine the obstacles in the channel after dark on 24 June. Consisting of three armed boats under the command of Captain George Willes, this first encountered a line of pointed iron stakes at the mouth of the river; supported by tripods sunk into the river bed, the intention being to disembowel any large vessel passing over them. Pressing on upstream until they were opposite the centre of the Large South Fort, the party next encountered a floating boom consisting of one stout hemp and two chain cables, supported by floating logs at thirty feet intervals. Leaving two boats to fix a demolition charge to the centre of the boom, Willes passed over it in the third and some 300 yards beyond came across two huge rafts, moored so as to leave only a narrow zig-zag channel between them, with another line of iron stakes beyond. With Chinese sentries pacing the bank nearby, Willes crawled onto one of the rafts to examine its construction, reaching the conclusion that it would withstand any amount of ramming by the small gunboats. He then dropped down to the boom, where the demolition charge fuze was lit, and the three boats pulled for the gunboats. The explosion attracted several harmless cannon shots from the South Fort, but caused little or no damage as the boom was still firmly in position the following morning.
Although the information gathered at considerable risk by Willes and his party would have made many commanders consider their position very carefully, Admiral Hope, a prey to wishful thinking, decided to attack that very morning. His plan required nine of the gunboats to anchor below the barrier of iron stakes and cover the forts while two more broke through each of the obstacles in turn, clearing the way upstream. If the Chinese resisted, their guns would have been silenced and the forts stormed by a 500-strong landing party of marines and sailors provided by the larger warships anchored off the bar, carried ashore in steam pinnaces, ships’ boats and junks. The operation was timed to commence at high water, which occurred at 11:30, and herein lay the plan’s fatal flaw, for with every hour that passed the ebbing tide would reveal an ever-widening expanse of glutinous mud, intersected by creeks, that the landing party would have to cross in the teeth of the enemy’s fire.
In the event, because of the difficulties of working the ships in the narrow, fast flowing navigable channel, the last of them did not drop anchor until after 13:00, and even then two, Bunterer and Starling, were stuck fast on mud banks in positions which prevented all their guns from bearing. Hope, aboard Plover, led the line, with Opossum, commanded by Willes, alongside, the task of the latter being to breach the outer barrier. At 14:00 her crew passed a cable around one of the iron stakes and the gunboat went full astern, but so well secured was it that 30 minutes of continuous effort were required before it was uprooted.
Until now the Chinese forts had remained silent, but as soon as Plover, followed by Opossum, passed through the gap in the barrier and was approaching the floating boom, flags were hoisted, embrasures were unmasked and a large number of guns opened a sustained and accurate fire that indicated the Chinese had been training hard. The gunboats returned this but as the engagement was taking place at point blank range – the Large South Fort now lay only 200 yards to port and the Large North Fort twice that distance ahead – they began to suffer severely; furthermore, though Chinese guns were being dismounted, they were promptly replaced, as were the gunners being killed around them.
By 15:00 both ships were in a poor state, their hulls, bulwarks, boats, masts and rigging being steadily battered to pieces. Plover was in the sorrier state, with 31 of her 40-strong crew killed or wounded and only two guns left in action. The dead included her captain, Lieutenant Rason, cut in two by a roundshot, and Captain McKenna of Hope’s staff. Hope was himself wounded in the thigh but refused to leave the deck.
Lying at anchor outside the bar was flagship of the US Navy’s Asiatic Squadron, commanded by Commodore Josiah Tattnall. As a midshipman Tattnall had fought against the British during the War of 1812, but for him that lay in the past and he was not enjoying the spectacle of two of their gunboats being knocked apart. He had his steam launch called away and, disregarding the Chinese fire, travelled upstream until he was alongside Plover. Clambering aboard, he suggested to Hope that the launch be used to evacuate the wounded. Hope had already accepted gratefully when Tattnall observed that his boat’s crew had become involved in the fighting.
‘What have you been doing, you rascals?’ he shouted as they returned, powder-stained, to their own craft. ‘Don’t you know we’re neutrals?’
‘Beg pardon, sir,’ came the reply, They were a bit short-handed on the bow gun and we thought it no harm to give them a hand while we were waiting.’
Tattnall could only grin at Hope before remarking, ‘I guess blood must be thicker than water!’ It was a remark that would go down in the history of both navies.
By 15:00 Plover was little more than a wreck. Hope gave permission for her to drop downstream and transferred to Opossum, simultaneously calling forward Lee and Haughty,
‘Your stern is on fire!’ hailed one of Haught/s officers as she passed Opossum.
‘Can’t be helped!’ replied Willes. ‘Can’t spare the men to put it out -we’ve only just enough to keep our guns going!’
Aboard Opossum, Hope was felled by a tangle of falling rigging, emerging with three broken ribs. Strapped up, he insisted on being lifted into a boat to visit Lee and Haughty. At length Opossum, now barely fightable, dropped down-river. Lee became a special target for the Chinese gunners and was hit so repeatedly below the water-line that her pumps were unable to cope. When her commander, Lieutenant Jones, was informed that unless the shot holes could be plugged from the outside she would sink, he declined to order a man over the side because the combined risks posed by the swift tide and the propeller would almost certainly be fatal. Boatswain Woods, however, declaring that just at the moment the chances of being killed were much of a muchness wherever he was, went over the side with a supply of shot plugs and a line tied around his waist and, despite being swept to within inches of the propeller several times, managed to plug several holes. His courage deserved a better reward, for the ship continued to fill and eventually had to be run aground to prevent her foundering.
Her place was taken by Cormorant and Kestrel and the battle raged on. Aboard Cormorant, Hope, now seated in a chair on deck, lost consciousness once and finally allowed himself to be taken to the hospital ship at the bar, handing over command to Captain Shadwell. Kestrel, riddled, went down at 17:30.
Six of the gunboats had now been sunk or disabled, but shortly afterwards the fire from the forts began to tail off. It is easy to blame Shadwell for what followed, but he sincerely believed not only that the Chinese had had enough, but also that an assault by the landing party on the Large South Fort stood a reasonable chance of success. What he seems to have ignored is that it was now low water and, in consequence, no less than 500 yards of mud flats separated the landing point from the fort. Nevertheless, after a hurried council of war aboard Cormorant, the decision to attack was taken at 18:30.
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bsp; The seamen and marines, including a 60-strong French contingent, were already waiting in their boats and junks. At 19:00 they were taken in tow by Opossum and a small local steamer, the Toey ‘ Wan. As they were cast off within easy rowing distance of the shoreline all seemed to be well. That the North Fort remained silent and guns were only firing at long intervals from the South Fort suggested the enemy was running short of ammunition. The gathering dusk, too, would reduce the accuracy of their fire, it was hoped.
As the boats touched down, however, the entire frontage of the Large South Fort erupted in flame and smoke. Men could be seen crowding the ramparts, ignoring the covering fire of the gunboats. Slopping through boot-tugging mud covered with weed, intersected by channels and tidal pools, the men struggled forward into a blizzard of roundshot, grape and rockets supplemented at closer quarters by musketry and even arrows. Shadwell, who had decided to lead the assault in person, was wounded as soon as he stepped ashore. With casualties mounting rapidly, more men had to be detailed to carry the wounded back to the boats to save them from being smothered in mud so soft as to be waist-deep in places. Of the 500 men who had landed, less than 150 crossed the tidal channel halfway between the water’s edge and the fort, and of these only fifty, their paper cartridges soaked and useless, reached the ditch below the ramparts. Their one scaling ladder was reared against the wall and ten men were climbing it when a volley from above killed three and wounded five of them. The ladder was then thrown down and broken. Nothing remained but to retire to the boats.
If anything, the withdrawal was even more harrowing than the advance. The Chinese, past masters in the pyrotechnic arts, sent up rockets and burned blue flares by the light of which they continued to fire on the landing party. As several boats had been sunk and the tide was now rising, many had to wait in waist- or even neck-deep water before they could be picked up. The last of them was not taken off until 01:00. Altogether, the landing party’s losses amounted to 68 killed and nearly 300 wounded, over 70 per cent of those employed.
Next day a party was sent in to burn three of the grounded gunboats that could not be got off, and then the flotilla retired to Hong Kong. Public opinion at home was outraged by the news of the reverse. Never, in a century of minor operations of this sort had the Royal Navy been so humiliated, and by the despised Chinese of all people. This failed to take into account that every aspect of the Chinese defence had been thoroughly thought through, and that during the engagement itself the Chinese had fought with determination and an exemplary if unexpected efficiency. The root causes of Hope’s failure lay in his over-confidence and in underestimating his enemy. It was simply beyond the capacity of the resources at his disposal to force the entrance of the Pei-ho and he failed to recognise the fact.1
Neither the British nor French governments could afford to let the matter rest. In March 1860 an ultimatum was despatched to Peking demanding ratification of the Treaty of Tientsin, together with an apology for firing on Admiral Hope’s ships and compensation for the losses incurred. No self-respecting government could be expected to comply with the last two demands and a reply was neither expected nor received. In May a joint expeditionary force, consisting of some 11,000 British and Indian troops under Lieutenant-General Sir James Hope Grant and 6,700 French under Lieutenant-General Cousin-Montauban, began assembling at Hong Kong. A point of technical interest was provided by the British contingent’s Armstrong 12-pounder rifled breech-loading field guns, which would be going into action for the first time.
The defences of the Taku Forts were known to have been further strengthened since the previous June and, as direct frontal assault had proved such a dismal failure, it was decided that they would each be captured in turn from the rear, following a landing at Peh-tang, a few miles north of the Pei-ho estuary. To the surprise of many, and the intense anger of some, Admiral Hope, now recovered from his wounds, was placed in command of the naval aspects of the operation, although his brief was restricted to providing gunfire support from the mouth of the river while the forts were under attack.
Some consideration had been given to the hot, humid climate, the British regiments wearing a cool, loosely-woven red tunic of Indian manufacture in place of their tight scarlet serge. Head-dress consisted of either a cloth-covered wicker helmet – the forerunner of the famous Wolseley helmet – or, more commonly, a low peaked cap with a white cover and neck-cloth.
The landing at Peh-tang took place on 30 July. It was not opposed, although the troops had to wade across a mile-wide expanse of mud-flats before they reached the shore proper. Because of this, it took another ten days to land the artillery, cavalry and supplies. During this period a detailed reconnaissance of the way ahead was carried out, revealing that extensive marshland restricted the only practicable route that could be followed by a large force lay along a causeway passing through Sin-ho to Tang-ku on the Pei-ho, some three miles above the Taku Forts, and that the Chinese had constructed entrenchments across this at Sin-ho.
Grant’s force, consisting of two divisions, the 1st under Major-General Sir John Michel and the 2nd under Major General Sir Robert Napier,2 and a cavalry brigade, left Peh-tang on 12 August. The plan was for Michel’s division to advance directly along the causeway against the Sin-ho entrenchments while Napier’s and the cavalry executed a wide right-flanking movement. The flank march involved two hours of trudging through mud and wading numerous wide canals used for the manufacture of salt, while masses of Tartar horsemen hovered around the column. Some of them, seeking easy pickings among the baggage, were held off by the guard’s Enfield rifles and finally chased away by the cavalry. At length Napier’s advance guard and artillery reached firmer ground on the left of the enemy entrenchments. Their appearance so unsettled the Chinese that when, following a preliminary bombardment, Michel’s troops attacked along the causeway they broke and ran. During the engagement the new Armstrong field guns performed well and ‘their range and accuracy excited great admiration.’3
After the engineers had bridged the canals the force moved on to Tang-ku two days later. A week’s delay followed while more guns, ammunition and supplies were brought forward. At this point a fundamental disagreement arose between Grant and Cousin-Montauban. The Frenchman wanted to attack the now-notorious Large South Fort first, despite the fact that this would involve a river crossing and separate the force from its supply base. Grant, on the other hand, was for attacking the Small North Fort, arguing that after it had been taken its guns could be trained on the weaker faces of the other forts, compelling each to surrender in turn; and as Grant commanded the greater part of the troops he got his way.
Even so, the defences of the Small North Fort were formidable. In succession there was a deep dry ditch; an open space obstructed by an abatis; then a flooded ditch 45 feet wide and 15 deep; a densely planted 20-foot-wide belt of ‘panjis’, i.e. sharpened bamboo stakes capable of penetrating a boot or disembowelling a man if he fell on them; another flooded ditch; and another belt of panjis leading up the 15-foot-high crenellated and loopholed mud walls of the fort itself. Swamps restricted any advance on the fort to a narrow frontage on which a bridge over the first wet ditch had been destroyed and the drawbridge over the inner wet ditch had been raised.
Work on the besiegers’ batteries was carried out mainly at night. The Chinese illuminated the scene with their blue lights and flares, which made the newer recruits feel nervous and exposed, although the enemy’s harassing artillery fire caused little trouble. By the evening of 20 August 44 guns and three 8-inch mortars had been emplaced.
At 05:00 the following morning these opened fire. Simultaneously, the thunder of gunfire from the river mouth indicated that Admiral Hope’s ships were engaging the Large North and South Forts. After a while a mortar shell burst in one of the Small North Fort’s magazines. There was a deafening explosion and the entire structure vanished in a dense cloud of smoke. In the ensuing silence it seemed at first as though the garrison had been wiped out, but as the smoke cleared t
he Chinese returned to their guns. A second major eruption in the Large South Fort indicated that the warships were also finding their mark.
Shortly after 06:00 Napier, in overall command of the attack, considered that the time had come for the assault to go in. Because of the narrow frontage available, the storming party, under the tactical command of Brigadier-General Reeves, was only 2,500 strong, drawn mainly from the 44th (later the 1st Essex) and the 67th (later 2nd Hampshire) Regiments, commanded respectively by Lieutenant-Colonels MacMahon and Thomas, and a party of Royal Marines carrying pontoons for use in crossing the wet ditches. General Cousin-Montauban, evidently still sulking after losing his argument with Grant, sent along only 400 men and pointedly turned up without his sword, thereby demonstrating that the matter was nothing to do with him. On the other hand, the French were the better equipped for the assault, bringing with them light bamboo ladders, carried by coolies, that could be used both as bridges to cross the wet ditches and to scale the walls.
Neither the abatis, which had been knocked to pieces during the preparatory bombardment, nor the dry ditch, caused the attackers undue difficulties. The Chinese, however, crowded onto the walls and opened a heavy and sustained fire with their muskets, concentrating on the Royal Marine pontoon carriers, fifteen of whom were shot down by a single volley. Brigadier Reeves was also seriously wounded and command passed to Colonel MacMahon.
At the wet ditches the French swarmed across, the coolies standing up to their necks in water to support the ladders. The pontoons having been abandoned, many of the British also used the ladders. Others were forced to swim or flounder their way to the far side. One of the first over was a Major Anson of Grant’s staff, who immediately set about cutting the drawbridge ropes; some accounts suggest that he used his own sword, but it seems more probable that he was provided with an axe by a corporal of the 67th. Napier had already brought forward two howitzers to the edge of the dry ditch and, seeing the drawbridge fall, he ordered them to open fire on the gate beyond. In due course they created a breach sufficiently wide for entry in single file, but by then the issue had been suddenly and dramatically decided.
Impossible Victories Page 14