Callaghan shook his head. He had heard that many - most perhaps – of the officers had filled their pockets. He had also been told that Magnus had not.
“You did not join in, Eskdale.”
“Privilege has its responsibilities, sir. Add to that, I have been a number of things in my career, but I have never been a thief. I am married now, happily, with a child due before too long – you might say that I am a reformed character, sir. Sad, ain’t it?”
“Admirable, I might say, Eskdale. What do you think of this story of the caravan of gold, by the way? Bit far-fetched, wouldn’t you think?”
Magnus was not at all certain. If, however, he said that he credited the tale, there might be a column sent out in pursuit of the new Eldorado.
“I don’t know, sir. It’s not impossible. The banks would have had substantial sums in their strongrooms, but would probably have sent it to safety earlier, unless they had been assured that the Army would protect them as they expelled all foreigners from the country. The Chinese outnumbered us so many times over that they cannot have expected a defeat at Tientsin.”
“How did we win that battle, Eskdale?”
“We didn’t, sir. We lost hands down and were pulling back when the Japanese blew the gate. They don’t think our way about death, sir. We talk about ‘death before dishonour’ – they mean it. They lost half of their men – literally – getting guncotton charges to the gate, then one of their officers ran up and shoved a lit torch into the pile, at arm’s length. Blew him to hell and gone, of course, but it opened the gate and they charged through.”
“And you followed.”
“What else could we do after that, sir? Let their sacrifice go to waste? I had no choice.”
“A lot of brave men have said those last words, Eskdale. Well done!”
Magnus was almost irritated by the praise – he did not think he deserved admiration. He would have been ashamed not to press forward when he did.
“What are the plans for the first battle, sir?”
Captain Callaghan beamed, offered his most ingenuous face.
“None, Eskdale. There is no reason to suppose the Chinese will make a stand in open country.”
“I am told there is a low ridge that transverses to our path, across from the river, about ten miles north, sir. I remember the railway taking a turn through a cutting up there.”
“How long a ridge?”
“I don’t know, sir. I wasn’t looking at the ground with a military eye at that time.”
“Turn it if possible, I suppose… I’ll mention to Gaselee the possibility that the ridge is defensible. He should have talked to Admiral Seymour about the ground – should have made allowance for it in his plans.”
“’Should’, sir?”
“Point taken, Eskdale. A lot of things which should have happened never came to be. For the while, keep an eye out for the walers – they’ll be walked up from Taku, slowly. They’ll have lost condition aboard ship and will need to be brought back to fitness. Don’t let the Russians pinch them, or the Frogs.”
That translated as sending an escort of fit men down to Taku by train and then marching them back with the horses. There was barely sufficient time to do so if they were to make the day set for marching out to Peking.
“Mr Knuyper! I have a little task for you…”
It was excellent training for a young officer, Magnus reflected. Do the boy good to exercise his initiative. He was one who must rise quickly in the Navy, and not just for his parentage.
What next? A talk with the doctors, perhaps. It was time he was seen by the sick – he had not visited the sick berth in two days.
The building that had been converted from warehouse to hospital was clean and disinfected and yet there was still a background sniff of diarrhoea, impossible to eradicate. It was the smell of the sick man in the tropics, inexorable, lingering.
“How many in your care, Doctor Erskine?”
“Forty-three of our men, sir. And a score of Chinese children.”
The addition was made defiantly.
It was utterly contrary to regulations. Magnus ignored it. If the doctor was worth his salt, he could not let children die untreated - and to hell with standing orders.
“What’s the breakdown for the men?”
“Eighteen from the battle, sir. Severely wounded to the extent that we could not move them out. The bulk of the wounded went down to Taku by train, but these would not have survived being shifted. We might yet save a half of them, but one or two go every day. Infections in the wounds, mostly. I hope to get eight of them away south inside the week. None of them will ever be fit for service again.”
In strictest military terms, it was a waste of resources, throwing away time and medicines on men who would never return to duty, who were lost to the Navy. It would have needed a harder man than him to say so, Magnus felt.
“That leaves twenty-five, Doctor Erskine.”
“Two injured in a drunken knife fight, sir. Both will recover to stand before a court-martial. The rest are all fevers and dysenteries – not that there’s a lot of difference between them. We will lose three, for sure, too far gone to get their guts working again. Four malarias who must be sent out of the tropics. The remainder will return to duty over the next few days. They will be replaced by the same number falling sick. It’s not too bad, at the moment – the numbers are controllable. We need more attention paid to clean water in camp, but I think many are eating in the city and picking up every sort of bug there.”
“Best to get us all out of here, Doctor.”
“For a few days, yes, sir. Until the water gets bad.”
That was the greatest problem, Magnus knew. They could carry water safely for less than a week. After that, the chances were that the barrels would become contaminated. It was not like being at sea where a ship could safely store water for a year. On land, the chances of pollution were vastly greater and the certainty of men falling sick was inescapable.
The Crimean War had lost ten or more times as many men to illness as to battle. Wellington’s wars had seen as many as twenty dead behind the lines for every man who fell in conflict. China would see the same if they were more than days on the march to Peking. Two weeks, perhaps, and the Relief Expedition would face annihilation, not primarily from the Chinese but from microbes.
Magnus sat back in his quarters, alone with his fears.
The Expedition would muster something less than twenty thousand men. The Chinese had not fewer than fifty thousand soldiers in the Peking area and more would be marching in every day. Some of them would be efficient fighting men – how many could not even be guessed. A proportion of the officers would be loyal to the Qing – again, how many could not be estimated.
The Chinese had artillery – modern guns which they had been trained to use. There would be gunners who could measure a range and fire to it. Not many, but even a very few hundreds could man several scores of guns to create a destructive fire.
The sole hope was that the Chinese would have aims other than the defence of Peking. Many of the officers would be clients of particular warlords. Some would be reformers anxious to create a modern China from the ashes of the Qing. A few would simply be greedy and ambitious, looking for the opportunity to enrich themselves.
The Chinese defence might be so fragmented as to be ineffective.
Against that, the Expedition was a long way from being a unitary force.
Eight thousand Japanese under a general who was senior in rank to Gaselee but had not been given the command that was his due because the British, American, Russian and French officers would not serve under a yellow man. The soldiers were armed with single-shot black powder rifles, very old-fashioned. The Japanese might well be resentful, disobedient to command.
Forty-eight hundred Russians, individually brave enough but poorly trained and ill-equipped and with officers who mostly cared nothing for their men. Their country was very nearly as sick as China and they could not
be wholly relied upon.
Three thousand British – an Imperial force including Indians and sailors as well as a minority of British soldiers. Most of them highly effective but the sailors were equipped with the outdated Lee Metford.
Eight hundred French – mostly Annamites from Cochin China and poorly officered. They were said to be unenthusiastic at best.
Besides that, a mixture of oddments – a few Italians and fewer still of Austrians, the two nationalities best kept separate from each other, retaining the old hatreds of the Risorgimento.
There were said to be a handful of Spanish, but Magnus had not seen them and knew nothing of them.
The Expedition would straggle when once it took the field. That was a certainty. The different nations did not even share a marching pace.
The Russians must be kept well clear of the Japanese who still resented the Triple Intervention that Russia had coordinated. It would be wise to keep the Americans clear of the Japanese as well – they had no love for the yellow races.
His thoughts went round and round but kept coming back to the chances of failure, which seemed greater the more he considered the known facts.
He stamped out of his room, disgusted with himself. He was doing no good sitting in isolation, surrendering to his fears. The Navy was never defeated – the odd setback, at most, but never irreversible and total calamity.
“Carter, has the mail arrived yet?”
“Nothing today, sir.”
“Bloody Navy, couldn’t organise…”
“No, sir. Difficult with the fleet at anchor so far offshore, sir. Probably a dozen letters waiting on Obelisk, sir.”
The sweet voice of reason was not especially welcome. Magnus snarled and demanded coffee.
“No milk, sir, and only got the local sugar.”
The Chinese sugar was sweet but coarsely refined and occasionally gritty.
“It will do, man!”
He expected they would face worse hardships over the next few weeks.
Chapter Six
The Earl’s Other Son Series
Peking Nightmares
“Japanese are to lead out of Tientsin and head the column on the first day, Pattishall. The place of honour in recognition of their deeds in taking the old city.”
“Difficult, giving honours to yellow men, sir. Not really what we ought to be doing, don’t you think? Give them ideas above their station?”
Magnus was mildly irritated – not precisely angry but annoyed that brave fighting men should be subjected to such slurs.
“You saw them at the battle, Guns. I think they are deserving of our respect.”
“Well… Yes, one might say so, sir, but, you know, the Zulu in South Africa are damned fine fighting men, but that don’t mean we are going to salute them and give them pride of place, does it?”
It was an argument to be considered.
“Bugger it, Guns! It’s General Gaselee’s decision, not ours.”
“Ours is not to reason why, in fact, sir. Who marches out after the Japs?”
“Us, then the Americans and the Russians with the French bringing up the rear. In their proper place!”
That last was indisputable.
“Marching at dawn, sir?”
“The Japanese will lead out then, the remainder following ‘as they can’, I quote.”
“What does that mean, sir?”
“It means that the we, the naval contingent, will be treading on the heels of the Japs! We shall assemble at the outskirts before dawn and wait for the Japanese to pass us by – saluting their senior officers, Mr Pattishall – and then following immediately behind them. We may hope that the other, lesser, nationalities will take their proper place and time.”
The Japanese marched at first light, interpreting dawn in their own way. Magnus called the ranks to attention and stiffened to the salute, his officers at his side. The Japanese general bowed low from the saddle of his pony and permitted himself a smile. The Naval Brigade swung onto the track on their heels. Behind them was a widening gap – the army fast marching to fill it, having defined dawn as somewhat later in the morning. The Americans were half a mile distant, surrounding their artillery and keeping to their pace. The Russians were trying to organise themselves into a column of route and the French were taking breakfast. Nobody knew for sure where the Italians and Austrians were to be found.
The last elements of the baggage train moved out at eleven o’clock.
Mid-afternoon saw the Japanese making camp. They sent a messenger back to Magnus to inform him that they proposed to move out in line, anchored on the river, in the morning and invited their allies to take post to their right, inasmuch that the Qing army appeared to be entrenched in the low hills to their front.
Binoculars showed something like a line of earthen barricades to the north, extending inland some miles from the river. Their seemed to be guns behind the trenches.
“Could use a gunboat, Pattishall, for bombardment. As it is, the Japanese left is anchored on the riverbank, so that’s secure. Could be that the Russkis could shift inland to the right to turn the Chinese line – not my decision to make.”
Magnus sat to write a report to Captain Callaghan, who was towards the rear in the General’s company, by order.
“Give that to the mid to carry to Captain Callaghan – to be delivered to him in person. I don’t want it lost in some staff idiot’s pocket. Which mid have we with us, Guns? Young Knuyper said that he had brought a new posting up with him when he finally got here with the horses last night.”
They had spent the night assigning the walers to wagons and as pack-horses, had not had time to make new mids welcome.
“Midshipman Holland-Parker-Sneyder, sir. First ship, all the way from Dartmouth, sir.”
“The boy can have one of the three, his choice. I’m not shouting out that mouthful every time I want to give an order. Give him the signal and tell him he has one hour to report back to me that he has delivered the report to Captain Callaghan’s hand.”
The midshipman reported just inside his hour, cantering up on one of the horses he had brought up from Taku and had kept for his own use.
Magnus decided his initiative should be rewarded.
“Keep the horse. You are our despatch rider from now on. What return from Captain Callaghan?”
“Captain’s compliments, sir. Plan of action for the morning will be sent up this evening, sir. For the while, inform the Japanese that you will place yourself at their flank as requested, sir.”
“Excellent. What’s your name?”
“Holland, sir.”
“Very good, Mr Holland. Welcome aboard. Find the Japanese general commanding and offer my compliments and bow – low, to the waist as befits a lesser mortal! Inform him that I shall be pleased to conform to his orders and shall place the naval division in line to his right as he suggested. We shall advance at his side.”
Holland repeated the message and walked the horse off to find the Japanese.
“Good start, anyway, Guns.”
“Skinny little runt, ain’t he, sir. Needs to get some meat on those bones if he is to last on campaign.”
Magnus was inclined to agree – the boy was at most seventeen and little more than five feet tall and probably weighed in at less than ninety pounds.
“A strong wind would blow him away, Guns. No reserves of strength and endurance there. Don’t look as if his balls have dropped yet! Hit him on top of the head a couple of times, do him a favour, Guns! Looks bright, though. Got a brain which might make up for the lack of body. It will need to. Get him equipped with revolver and cutlass before morning.”
Magnus turned to the map they had been issued, distinguished by its lack of topographical features. It was little more than a sketch of the railway line paralleling the river and leading from Tientsin in the south to Peking towards the north. He pencilled in the line of hills and a deserted village to their front.
“What’s the name of the village, Guns?”<
br />
“Peitsang, probably, sir. Or something that sounds like that, more or less. Bloody Chinese, they only invent these names to be awkward – nobody would make that sort of noise naturally, sir.”
Orders arrived confirming that the British would march out in line on the flank of the Japanese. The Americans and Russians would be further to the right and the French would have the duty of holding the end of the Allied line and of preventing any Chinese force from turning the flank. The Bengal Lancers would attempt to get behind the Chinese and roll them up from the right.
“One regiment, Guns. Going to be busy lads if they ‘roll up’ fifty thousand Chinese.”
The army appeared and took position before night fell. Americans and Russians followed on later. The French were too far distant to be seen.
“Food for the men in the morning, Mr Pattishall. Assume the Japanese will take off at four-thirty, like they did this morning. Breakfast to be ready for three-thirty.”
“Seven bells in the Middle Watch, sir. Aye aye.”
“Not on shore, Mr Pattishall. Use language the Army can understand.”
“I don’t think I can talk that simply, sir.”
“Very witty! This is neither the time nor the place for that, Mr Pattishall. Have any of our men reported sick yet?”
“None, sir.”
“Good.”
“What is the plan for the morning, sir?”
Magnus tried to show patient, to answer a legitimate question.
“To advance at the side of the Japanese. Mr Pattishall. To kill or take prisoner or simply drive away the enemy. To take or spike their guns and to destroy their reserves of ammunition and shell.”
“Yes, sir. is there any mention of just how that is to be achieved?”
“Tut! Use your initiative, man! If you see a Chinaman, kill him. If you spot a gun, capture it. Don’t mistake the Japs for Chinks.”
“Yes, sir. I should have realised.”
“General Gaselee has every faith in our war-like spirit – he needs do no more than let us off the leash, I understand.”
04 Peking Nightmares (The Earl’s Other Son Series, #4) Page 10