The column marched in the morning, their sole enemy the heat, apart from barely visible Chinese cavalry shadowing them far to the right flank.
“What’s the word from the French, Guns? Have they given an estimate of numbers?”
No word came until late evening when the runner from General Gaselee came with orders of the day for the morning.
“Frogs report a dozen regiments of cavalry – mobs more than ordered squadrons, they say. Well out on the flank. No attempt to close on the Expedition.”
“Waiting for the battle, Guns. When we are held up by the main force’s defences, the cavalry will try to roll us up, or so they think. If we should be pushed back, then they can get into the retreat and turn it into a rout. More than five thousand cavalry, properly handled, could do just that, of course. Warn the men to expect a battle tomorrow. The Chinks ain’t there for the benefit of their health, they are expecting to fight us and soon.”
The Japanese marched at first light, the Naval Brigade following; they found the Chinese defences within the hour.
In the beginning the battle was identical to the previous two, but the Japanese were not stopped on this occasion.
The Chinese soldiers had fought their best twice running and had been defeated. They had aimed and fired and missed, their bullets seemingly unable to touch the great mass of men to their front. Now, for the third time, they loaded their rifles and achieved nothing. It was too much. They turned and ran, a few at first then the overwhelming majority in full flight, guns abandoned; rifles thrown away; identifiable uniforms discarded. The Chinese army ceased to exist in the space of an hour.
The cavalry reined in, watched for a few minutes and then about-faced and disappeared. It was later discovered that the horsemen had descended on the nearest towns, sacked them and fled with their spoils back to their origins in the Mongol lands far to the northwest.
By midday, when the Russians arrived, the fighting was over and the Japanese had resumed their march. General Gaselee turned up in company with the Russians and took great pleasure in acclaiming his men’s victory.
“Damned French haven’t struck camp yet, Eskdale! Still lazing around their campfires! No way to run an army. What do you intend for your Naval Brigade?”
“Why, sir, I intend to obey Captain Callaghan’s orders!”
Recalled to a sense of propriety, the General turned to the Senior Naval Officer and begged his pardon for his lapse.
“Quite, General! I wish for Commander Eskdale to continue on the heels of the Japanese. We must have a British presence in the forefront, sir. I believe we should march until we are within striking distance of Peking and there reorganise ourselves ready for the advance into the capital and the relief of the Legations. The quicker we get there, the less the chance of the Empress massacring our people. The Japanese will no doubt continue their headlong push forward and we must match their prowess if they are not to steal all of the glory.”
“Like they tried at Taku, if I remember, Callaghan. Can’t be doing with that!”
“We cannot, sir, though it must be remembered that Commander Eskdale made the first lodgement in the fort and drew the attention of much of the defence, so enabling us to make the successful final assault, Craddock and the Japanese shoulder to shoulder.”
General Gaselee had not heard that, having been at sea on his troopship coming from India at the time the Forts were taken. He demanded the details and was much impressed, damning his eyes repeatedly.
“You should have been given something for that, Eskdale! Damn my eye, so you should!”
“A sideshow, sir. Commander Craddock led the main attack most gallantly and deserved the recognition so rightly given him.”
“Well said! Good man!”
General Gaselee possessed the true Victorian appreciation of manliness, was much moved by Magnus’ self-abnegatory words.
Three days later the expedition encountered another Chinese force and steamrollered through it, the Chinese expecting to be defeated and running at the earliest stage. The morale of the Imperial forces was thoroughly broken, was made even worse by a vigorous pursuit by the Japanese who killed every soldier they could find, and a substantial number of available civilians as well.
They reached Tungchow, the nearest town to Peking at the end of the week and subjected it to the same treatment as Tientsin had received. There was less in the way of valuables to steal, the richer inhabitants having fled with their wealth to Peking, expecting to be safe there. Those of the population who remained were looted, raped and butchered with great gusto, the precedent having been established for the treatment of civilians.
Magnus lodged himself in a temporary headquarters in a convenient warehouse and turned his back on the behaviour of his followers. He entertained General Gaselee and Captain Callaghan to a plate of stew and a few bottles of beer in late morning, having managed to quickly organise his cookhouse,
“Nothing to be done, sir.” He poured another bottle of locally brewed beer for General Gaselee. “Your health, sir. The officers are just as bad as the men, taking a leading part, in fact. A day before we will get them under control, if it’s the same as Tientsin. The same as happened in the Peninsular War, or so I gather. God help Peking when we get there. It is one of the richest towns on Earth, at the moment. It will be a desert within the week of our men setting foot inside the walls.”
“Good God! We don’t do things like that in India… Well… We don’t now. I was too young for the Mutiny, you know, but the memories were fresh when I joined. I seem to remember tales that were much like what is happening now. Two days, you say, Eskdale? I shall give the order to march for the afternoon of the Thirteenth. We cannot delay longer. I am informed that the siege of the Legations is very hot at the moment and we need to get there soon. I want your Naval Brigade to march to the rear on this occasion, Captain Callaghan. The army to make the entry while your people watch out for any heroic last stand by the Chinks. There must be another fifty thousand troops within two days’ march, you know. They can’t all be dispirited or disloyal, surely!”
Captain Callaghan was not so sure.
“Not all, sir, but many of their officers will have decided that the Qing are finished and that the sensible man must look after himself and his own. The warlords will be resurgent, sir. There will still be resistance, no doubt, but the armies will be marching back to their home provinces. From here to Peking will be no more than mopping up, sir. The garrison on the walls will probably fight, but even they may be half-hearted. The next task will be the final suppression of the Boxers, especially those who have turned to banditry, and the disarmament of the remnants of the Imperial armies in Peking.”
General Gaselee listened and agreed in part.
“Sounds simple, Callaghan. If there’s one thing I have learned so far, it’s that nothing in China is as easy as it seems!”
He thought for a little while before giving his final orders.
“You stay with the Naval Brigade to guard the rear and I shall be happier, Eskdale. Captain Callaghan, you will remain with my staff, quickly available if needed.”
Chapter Seven
The Earl’s Other Son Series
Peking Nightmares
The march on Peking turned into an indecorous race, the British, Japanese, Russians and even the French trying to be first to get inside the city and relieve the Legations.
Each set off before dawn in the hope of stealing a march on the other nationalities. They all ended up outside the huge walls, staring up and scratching their heads as the Chinese garrison yelled insults, occasionally displayed their bare arses and even more rarely shot at them.
Magnus held the Naval Division back, obeying orders to the letter.
“Let the Army have the glory today, Guns. Watch for attack from the rear.”
A few hours passed and the Chinese suddenly abandoned the wall while the Russians and Japanese forced their way through lightly defended gates. A runner came with the news
that the Army – the British – had discovered a water gate running under the wall and wholly unguarded and had made an entry in numbers to get behind the wall garrison. They had pressed forward and were in the process of relieving the Legations, who appeared to have survived the siege with some casualties but mostly unharmed.
“Another victory for Captain Hawkins, Guns!”
“He’s not here, sir.”
“Think, Mr Pattishall. The Chinese ain’t the most martially spirited of folk, but they have done their best, fought hard at Tientsin and in two of our three battles. Do you think men who fight like that will have forgotten to guard a major point of ingress to a city under siege?”
Mr Pattishall had to agree that it was unlikely.
“Some little warlord is on his way home from the rear gates just now, with a good few catties of silver tucked away on his pack ponies. I would lay long odds on that, Guns. Good, old-fashioned corruption – and it might be hard to find a more corrupt man than Captain Hawkins. Don’t like these bloody spies, you know, Mr Pattishall – can’t trust one of them, but you have to because they are so damned useful.”
“Not my cup of tea, sir – not a gentleman’s game, spying.”
“No more it is, Guns. Move the men to the walls. Mount sentries on top and bivouac under their shelter. The plan is to take the other cities of Peking tomorrow – or that was what the General had in mind this morning assuming we cleared the Legations today.”
“I was not aware that the General had a mind, sir.”
“I may have overstated the case, Guns. Be ready to move out early. Warn the men that I expect to discover numbers of Boxers in the streets of Peking. They must be ready to shoot.”
“They will be, sir. Too ready in all probabilities.”
Magnus shrugged. He was not prepared to risk his men’s lives by telling them to hold fire until they had certainly identified any possibly armed Chinese.
“We must head into the Old City, Guns. The intention is to break into the Forbidden City and let the Qing know that we have no respect for them or their traditions and prestige. The aim is to humiliate the Empire and make its continued existence a mockery. There is no place in the modern world for God-Kings. That lesson must be driven home at the point of the bayonet. We wish to make it clear to the Chinese that their old ways have failed and they must turn to the new. The people of China must lose their respect for the Empire and destroy it themselves.”
Mr Pattishall considered that proposition and appreciated its wisdom.
“If we declared the ‘Empress’ dethroned, her people would support her. If, on the other hand, we humiliate the Empress, her own people will be first to pull her down… Crafty, sir!”
Pattishall continued to mull over the proposition, returning to it as they sat to their evening stew of bully beef, beans and rice, boiled up together for a good three hours and thickened with flour to make it chewy.
“This is bloody awful food, sir!”
“Yes… Solid. Nutritious. Keeps you regular. What more can you ask of a meal in the field?”
“Flavour? Perhaps even a vegetable or two?”
“That’s a good point, of course. Carter!”
“Sir?”
“Try to get hold of some fruit or vegetables, will you? Mr Pattishall feels we should eat a more varied diet.”
“Right, sir. See what I can pick up tomorrow – liable to be some shops without any keepers to ‘em, sir. The looters won’t be after cabbages and onions, that’s for sure.”
“You could pay for them, Carter.”
“What, in the state Peking’s going to be in these next few days, sir?”
Magnus gave up on that argument.
“I shall commandeer a set of buildings for a barracks for our people, Mr Pattishall. We will set up a Naval Headquarters with sufficient rooms for the Naval Division to bunk down while we remain in Peking. I will create the base and hold it with a party of our walking wounded.”
“Aye aye, sir. I will look after the Obelisks, sir.”
Magnus had no doubt he would also supervise the looting.
“Do that. Captain Callaghan will have orders for us, I am sure.”
It was three days before Captain Callaghan called Magnus to the British Legation where he was ensconced at General Gaselee’s side.
During that time the temporary HQ filled up with loot, literally tons of furs and silks and precious porcelain as well as a mound of silver in bars and catties and taels. There was jewellery as well, stones and gold glittering in smaller heaps. The bulk of the men, it seemed, were again sharing with those who could not join in because of duty or wounds. Magnus presumed that the officers were looking themselves individually.
Magnus made no attempt to stop the men, simply turned a blind eye. He knew that the other nationalities were doing the same and suspected that the triads would be helping themselves in the background. He was contemptuous of his own moral inadequacy, felt that he should be trying at least to put a stop to the orgy of theft; he knew that he would be no more than the little boy with his finger in the dyke, the walls crumbling on either side of him.
The Legation was a shambles, evidence of some battering to be seen all round as well as temporary ramparts constructed by the besieged. Captain Callaghan greeted Magnus and provided a glass of very good wine.
“Good morning, sir. I had not seen the state of the Legation, sir. They experienced an amount of shelling, it would seem. Good to see the wine cellar was untouched.”
General Gaselee was amazed that they had held out for two months. Captain Callaghan was inclined to wonder why there was relatively little damage from sixty days of siege.
“The Chinese must have had a hundred and more of field guns to hand in Peking, Eskdale. They can’t have used a half of them and not for more than a few hours at a time. It was not a full-blooded siege on the Army’s part, that’s for sure. The Boxers yelled and attacked piecemeal, as far as I can gather, while the Army offered a threat and never made a wholehearted onset. It is as you said to me weeks back, Eskdale. The siege was more of a gesture on the Empress’ part. The Boxers wanted to kill every foreign devil, but she did not, or so I read it. Can’t ask her, she’s run. Miles inland, apparently.”
General Gaselee was not at all sure but was more concerned about the looting. He wanted it to be organised.
“As it stands, Eskdale, the men are destroying as much as they collect. Priceless pieces of dynasty porcelain smashed out of hand – seen it meself! No immediate value so they just toss the stuff to one side! What I propose is that we organise auctions, like you did at Tientsin, but every afternoon. The men will know they can get money for everything then and will bring it in rather than destroy it.”
Magnus agreed it was a sensible suggestion. He was not to be in the business of arguing with a general and with his commanding officer, not after the efforts he had made to rehabilitate himself. He wondered just who was to buy at the auctions and what the prices would be, suspected that a number of respectable officers who had not dirtied their hands with actual looting would put in low bids and make their profits second-hand.
Brief discussion made the arrangements and put in hand the announcements to the bluejackets and the army.
“Have you heard of the Japanese, Eskdale? They got hold of the Imperial Treasury. Silver by the tons, literally! For the rest, I doubt there’s a Chinaman with two pennies left to rub together.”
Magnus believed them.
“What of the banks, sir?”
“Russians and Germans got into them on the first day of the push into the City. I hear they had relatively little tucked away in their strongrooms. As you said, the bankers were not about to leave their reserves where we could pick them up. Probably in the same place as the bullion from Tientsin.”
This was obviously a great joke.
Magnus chuckled and withdrew from the presence.
“Furs and silks, Pattishall. Too bulky to transport back to Obelisk. Too visible. Ca
rt them off to the auctions, apart from a heavy coat apiece. Winter will get cold here and we are likely to be hanging about Peking for the rest of the year in draughty old places like this. Pass the word to the men to pick up warm clothing for the winter months. It’s roasting hot now but it won’t stay that way.”
“Porcelain, sir? Too fragile to bounce about on our ration carts.”
“Send it to the auctions, Guns. Keep back the silver and the jewellery. We won’t be paid a hundredth part of its value here. We can get the men a fair price for their share back in Shanghai. Make a listing of all that’s here so that the men know they are being treated fairly. Box it up, out of sight. If we should be visited by senior officers, then we don’t want evidence lying around to prove we have not sent stuff to the auctions.”
Mr Pattishall thought that smacked of dishonesty – but so did the whole campaign.
“Food, sir.”
“The stuff we eat?”
“Yes, sir. Might be a good idea to put a stock of rice and beans and onions together, sir. The sort of stuff that will keep for a few months. I doubt there will be much coming into Peking from the local farms, or not for a long while. Don’t much fancy living on bully beef and hard biscuit, sir.”
“Well thought, Guns! Pick up flour as well, if you can, and that bread-making stuff – what is it, yeast?”
Mr Pattishall thought that was very likely – he was not himself in the habit of hanging about in kitchens, did not really know.
“What I shall do, sir, with your permission, is take out the Petty Officer Cook, from the galley, to decide what we shall grab hold of.”
“Damned good thinking, Guns! I would not have come up with that one. Do so. Make sure he has an escort. As I remember, the PO in question is somewhat larger than most – won’t be much for running in case of trouble.”
“Damned near twenty stone of him, sir, must be. Comes from tasting his own cooking, I expect.”
04 Peking Nightmares (The Earl’s Other Son Series, #4) Page 12