“Exactly. The walls of Peking are twice the size, and more, of those here in Tientsin. I think you need twelve inch gun-howitzers to do anything with those walls.”
“Has there been any thought given to breaking through those walls, sir?”
Magnus rolled his eyes and shook his head and twirled an imaginary moustache.
“Good God, no, Pattishall! What next will you ask? Let us get there first and then solve one problem at a time. No sense borrowing trouble, you know! Can’t tell what we’ll do until we get there, old chap. Probably get a little Jappie chappie to immolate himself, ho, ho!”
“Jesus!”
“Tut, do not despair, Pattishall. Our lords and masters are far wiser than us – they know the answers to questions we have not even thought of. Why, I heard that General Gaselee was asked the answer to ‘two add two’ last week – and he knew it without appointing a committee of inquiry!”
“Wonders never cease, sir! When do we march?”
Magnus stared in supercilious amaze.
“Not so fast, young man! The decision has been taken that we shall march. When is an entirely different matter. The betting is early August because von Waldersee is due here in October and that gives two months to get to Peking and take it. The Russians and French are in full agreement with us on that one point – it must all be done and dusted before the Commanding General actually arrives, so as to make the Kaiser look like a dick. Rare that the three nations can agree on anything - but when it comes to important matters, our minds are as one.”
“I am not sure that makes me feel better, sir. What about the Legations, sir? Can they last a lot longer?”
Magnus became serious.
“Who knows? They have been reported as taken twice already. I have no idea what is going on in Peking, but I doubt they will be killed off now. If the Empress had wanted them dead, then they would have been butchered in the first two days. The Chinese could swarm them under with a hundred thousand troops and Boxers, if they really wanted to. I don’t think this siege is a lot more than a showpiece. The Empress is making a noise to gain the attention of the Foreign Powers, in my opinion. I suspect she thought we would talk rather than act. She has killed a few godmen – that is no more than a token gesture – there are thousands more where they came from as far as she is concerned. Individuals mean nothing to her and she expects us to think the same way. Fifty dead missionaries? So what? Will you mobilise fifty thousand troops and go to all of the costs of expeditions for that sort of pinprick? She is probably horrified and puzzled that we have taken the Taku Forts and now Tientsin. She will not know what is happening and will probably be regretting the whole business. As a result, her next actions are totally unpredictable – she won’t know today what she will do tomorrow.”
“A madhouse, sir.”
“Just that, Pattishall, but one that will provide a deal of action and every chance for personal distinction. Very useful to the career, a Boxer campaign ribbon on your jacket, you know. And if you can pull a Mention out of it, even better. Add to that, I do not doubt that Peking will prove richer than Tientsin, and that will enthuse the men no end. It will also mean we shall get a good Press. While the reporters are looting, they cannot be doing us down!”
“Practical, sir. I had not considered that aspect of the role of the press.”
“Very important in modern warfare, Pattishall. Talking of which - warfare, that is - do we need stores from the ship before we set out on our little expedition?”
“We could exchange a dozen more men, sir. Picked up various fevers and dysenteries and be better back aboard where the sick berth can tend to them.”
“Good. See to it. Get them on a train south at soonest. Go with them, it needs a senior man to push them through and get them onto a boat without hanging around for days.”
Pattishall trotted off to make the arrangements and Magnus sat with his diary letter which would go south with the party, finishing the day’s instalment. He was much tempted to take the train himself, to get away from the camp for a short break, but it might reflect badly upon him. He was the dedicated officer these days and must not slip from the pedestal he had created for himself.
Two hours later and Magnus was regretting sending Pattishall south.
A messenger had arrived at his quarters calling him to General Gaselee.
The old general, thirty years Magnus’ senior and hence ancient in his eyes, made him welcome and introduced him to Captain Callaghan of Endymion cruiser. They exchanged salutes and Callaghan congratulated Magnus on his actions in the taking of Tientsin.
“You are to be part of the Naval Brigade, Eskdale. Thinking has changed, yet again. The decision has been taken to send a full force from the fleet and you will be a senior officer in it. Commander Beatty has been wounded and is ineligible for the role and Commander Craddock has requested your assistance. I am in command and have every expectation of making a full use of your services. Your record in China is most enviable, my lord, and I have no doubt you will add further to your laurels.”
Magnus made his thanks.
“We intend to muster the Brigade over the next week and should be able to start out to Peking in ten days. We will have a deal to do if we are to be fit to go, Eskdale! The word is that the Chinese army is marching, Eskdale, and may well be in contact with us within the day of our setting out, not that it matters. Intelligence suggests that the Boxers are less to be seen, that they have not reformed their ranks since making their precipitate retreat from Tientsin.”
Magnus was not surprised to hear that.
“I doubt we shall see more of the Boxers, sir. They have, after all, been wholly successful and will have gone back to their villages content in a job well done.”
Neither man understood him and the assembled staff officers assumed he had gone mad – sunstroke, very likely, they had noticed him rarely to wear the pith helmet. It was a known fact that the naval cap provided no protection from sunstroke – the solar topee was essential.
Magnus proceeded to demonstrate a deplorable degree of sanity by displaying knowledge the staff did not possess.
“I should explain, sir. The whole of north China has been suffering from unprecedented drought; the crops failed two seasons running and the people as a whole came close to starvation. Very many died – we may be talking of millions. It was obvious that the land was being punished by the gods. The Society of the Harmonious Fist proclaimed that the cause was the Chinese Christians who had offended ancestors and gods alike by their apostasy. The solution was to kill the godmen – the missionaries – and massacre the Christian converts and prevent their future regrowth by expelling all foreigners from China. Once the first two aims were achieved, the gods would send the rains again. The third aim was desirable but not essential.”
“Are you sure of that, Eskdale?”
“Certain, sir. My wife’s family has many contacts in the country, and I have a few myself. They all agree that the Boxers had the simple desire to avert starvation by destroying the godmen and their evil followers.”
General Gaselee had been long in India and, like most soldiers of the Raj, had no love for the missionary.
“Damned menace to peace and civilisation, all of them. Underbred as well, most often!”
Captain Callaghan had a more naval view of the Church but could see no reason to argue with the General.
“Carry on, Eskdale.”
“Aye aye, sir. The Boxers have killed a number of missionaries and their families – we don’t know how many, fifty at least. The great bulk of the remainder have fled and are in our care. The converts have been massacred in their thousands. We do not know, cannot reliably guess how many, but we can assume that where the missionary has died, so have all his followers. The figure cannot be less than fifty thousand, sir. So, sir – the foreign religion has been wiped out. Look out of the windows, sir, and what do you see?”
Captain Callaghan gave the answer.
“Heavy rain. Mor
e than a week of it so far and no sign of it breaking… The drought is over. So the Boxers know they have achieved their ends. You think they will have simply gone home now, Eskdale?”
“I suspect so, sir. They are almost all of them peasants. They have fields to plant and families to protect. They have done their duty and taken all of the correct actions to return prosperity to their fields. Time now to reap their rewards.”
“So the Boxers are no more?”
“Not quite, sir. The bulk of them were peasants but some thousands joined from the towns and will have different priorities. I suspect there will be some left, sir. It may be that they will not be found out in the countryside but in the larger towns where they came from.”
Captain Callaghan was amazed to hear this but he was convinced of Magnus’ logic and reason.
“We can expect a war against the Qing army, Eskdale, not against a wild militia… Interesting! Well worth knowing as well.”
General Gaselee agreed.
“Pity we are so short of cavalry. Didn’t think they would be a lot of use against the Boxers, but this puts a different complexion on the war. We have a regiment of Bengal Lancers and that’s it for horse. Damned good troops, of course, but too few of them.”
Magnus had seen the cavalry, sat up on their chargers in their magnificence. They were an impressive sight – huge turbans retaining their old splendour over the new khaki uniforms that had so rapidly been introduced as a result of the accurate rifle fire of the Boer War. They were heavily armed – tall bamboo lance; a long Indian sabre; a carbine in a bucket with a bandoleer across the chest. The effect was that they could act as mounted infantry, if forced. He could not see why they should be so much more use against an army rather than irregulars, but he was not, he thanked God, a mere soldier.
“Artillery will still be no more than the twelve pounders, sir?”
“That’s all, together with some American light field artillery. The Americans look professional and they should have had experience in the Philippines – messy business, that! We shall rely on the traditional virtues of the footslogger and the bluejackets, Eskdale. They have served us well enough for many years, will not let us down now.”
As a plan of campaign, it was rather limited.
“Do we know how many of the Chinese army are facing us, sir?”
“Not less than fifty thousand, so I am told. Nothing to fear there even if they do show up. A bunch of wild Orientals, and slant-eyed like the Japs. Can’t shoot straight, you know, Eskdale, because of those eyes. That’s why the Japs use swords so much.”
Magnus had not been aware of that interesting fact. He made no comment on it.
“One amusing fairy tale from Intelligence, Eskdale! Give you a good laugh, old chap! Supposed to be a caravan or convoy or some-such set out from Tientsin before our assault. Carrying gold and silver by the ton! All of the reserves of the Chinese banks in the town, and the wealth of some of the Chinese merchant houses and some sort of tong or hong or some-such thing. Set out to the north and hasn’t been seen again! Never existed if you want my opinion!”
Magnus smiled his appreciation of so ridiculous a story.
He returned to his quarters and wrote a letter to Blantyre, asking him to assess the provenance of the little tale. Nothing was impossible in China. It was in fact probable that the richer inhabitants and the bankers – cautious by nature – would have removed their portable wealth. They would also have placed it under heavy guard, the more especially if one of the triads had taken part in the evacuation. If the convoy had disappeared then it might simply have gone into hiding, probably in one of the many forts that dotted the plains outside Peking. There was an offchance that the guards themselves, or some of them, had stolen the wealth they were protecting.
Magnus wondered what they might do with possibly tons of specie. Sending it out of the country might make sense - but was far more easily said than done. Not to worry! It was all no more than speculation.
He sat down to calculate the stores that would have to be carried by a Naval Brigade. The tonnage of biscuit and canned beef and tea and cocoa that was essential for iron rations was quite appalling. Add to that, there was the reserve of ammunition which must amount to the better part of half of a million of three-o-three Lee Metford rounds. As well there would be point four-five-five revolver reloads for the officers. They would need spare boots and trousers and shirts. Water barrels would be essential.
He wrote out his list, neatly in columns.
What else?
Medical supplies and tents and stretchers for the doctors. The column might be a month on the march to Peking, even if General Gaselee expected just one week. That would be long enough for dysentery to get a hold, and possibly typhoid, certainly malaria.
How many one-ton carts would that demand?
Try as he might, he could not come up with fewer than three hundred carts when he had added in the need to transport fodder – there was no guarantee of grazing along the route they must take.
They would be following the river for the greater part of the distance. Ten junks would carry everything far more conveniently.
He sent parties out to commandeer junks but found he was too late – the Japanese and Americans and Russians had had the same idea first.
Mr Lockhart came to him shaking his head despondently.
“Can’t lay me hands on more than fifty carts, sir, and a score of mules and twenty broken-down horses to pull them.”
Magnus reported his results to Captain Callaghan, was told not to worry.
“There’s a transport due up from Shanghai any day, Eskdale. Should have a thousand walers aboard.”
Magnus had never heard of them.
“Tough ponies from New South Wales, Eskdale. Some to draw the carts, the rest to be pack ponies. Might be a chance of camels as well – useful beast, the camel! Should be a good few tons of grain as well, for the animals.”
“What about muleteers, sir?”
“Good question – there ain’t any. Jack Tar is a resourceful man, Eskdale. The bluejackets will drive the animals, that’s for sure. Your figures for the medical side – bit pessimistic, are they not?”
“No, sir. Optimistic, more like. The weather is hot and it’s wet. Contaminated drinking water is almost a certainty. We shall be lucky if three men out of four make it to Peking on their feet, sir. Not a healthy country, China, in high summer.”
“Pallets for two hundred and fifty. Forty medical orderlies and stretcher bearers. Six ship’s doctors and the medical supplies they specify… Can we afford such a generous medical train, Eskdale?”
“We cannot do without it, sir. I have made no allowance for casualties in battle.”
“The Chinks won’t fight, Eskdale!”
“We have spent the last five years training and equipping their army to do just that, sir. We have sold them Maxims and Krupp field guns. They have Mauser rifles. Some of them can and will fight, sir. Many of them will still be ignorant of basic military skills, and their officers can often be hopeless – the sons of rich men who do not expect to fight and will run at the first bullet. Some of their senior officers are no more than traitors, but others are patriots who will fight to the last. There is a prospect that we will have to struggle for every inch of the ground between here and Peking. With the greatest of respect, sir, I must point out that Admiral Seymour was defeated. He fell back because the Chinese chased him, and he was very lucky to survive. Had he not come across the unmanned - but remarkably well-stocked - arsenal, he would have been lost.”
Captain Callaghan stared at Magnus and then slowly nodded.
“I’ve wondered about that, Eskdale. Not even the Chinese forget to put a garrison inside a major arsenal. That must have been arranged somehow.”
“We have a remarkably efficient naval intelligence department operating out of Hong Kong, sir. Have you met Captain Hawkins?”
“I have, Eskdale, and I have heard that he is well-respected on station.
Do you think he had something to do with it?”
“It’s more than likely, sir. I have no evidence at all.”
“You have told me that you have contacts among the Chinese, Eskdale.”
“The Southern Chinese, yes, sir. None up here in the North. If I was to get extra information, I would have to ask my contacts down in Shanghai to talk to their acquaintances hereabouts. It would take months.”
Captain Callaghan assumed a wise, magisterial face.
“Pity. I am fast coming to the conclusion, Eskdale, that we don’t know what is happening in China.”
“I am sure of that, sir. The real problem is that the Chinese don’t, either. The country is changing, sir. We are doing that. Some of the Chinese want things to be different. Many of them want everything to be same forever. The great bulk of them just want a full belly. Hungry people lash out at any target they can find, sir. If they think it’s our fault, they will kill us. If they blame the Empress, they will destroy the Qing. Mostly, they will do as they are told – so whoever can get their ear will use them for their own purposes. Whether its missionary or warlord, opium seller or Empress – the poor of China will be victims, sir.”
“Sounds like the Irish problem, Eskdale. I never said this, mark you, but the only thing in Ireland nobody cares about is the Irish! Too many causes and not enough care, that’s my opinion of Ireland! I’m Irish, so they’d hang me if I ever said that aloud. They’ll hang you if you sound too sympathetic to the Chinks – be careful what you say, Eskdale. The Chinese are the enemy, and that’s official. That said, we don’t want any more of the looting business I’ve been told about in Tientsin.”
Magnus shook his head. Looting was part of the game as it was played in China.
“We shall see more of it in Peking, sir. There’s wealth there and we pay Tommy Atkins and our bluejackets pennies. The Russians pay worse and treat their people contemptibly. The Japanese hate the Chinese with a passion. The Americans are just bloody cowboys. As for the Frogs – sod them! Between them, they will rip the guts out of Peking, sir, led by their officers.”
04 Peking Nightmares (The Earl’s Other Son Series, #4) Page 9