04 Peking Nightmares (The Earl’s Other Son Series, #4)

by Andrew Wareham

  “Doubt it, Guns. If he tasted the meals he puts out for the men, they wouldn’t be so uniformly bad!”

  Mr Pattishall was forced to agree – lower deck catering was too often very poor.

  “Not much a cook can do with tins of corned dog, sir. Put it in a pie or boil it up in a hash, it’s still the same old stuff.”

  “Start with lousy ingredients and you end up with lousy meals? I suppose you’re right, Guns, but it ought to be better. Can’t look for the men to be keen and enthusiastic if they’ve got a permanent belly-ache from the grub we feed them.”

  It was obviously true. It was also the case that they could do nothing about it. The Admiralty provided the stores and the ships must put up with what they were given.

  “I suppose Their Lordships have a choice, sir – spend money on rations or on building new ships. Can’t have both, or so it seems.”

  “Bloody politicians short-changing the Navy, Guns. Always the same!”

  They selected dry and clean rooms and constructed racks to store their sacks and barrels of foodstuffs. It was easy to get hold of timber – they looted it, ripping houses down to take their beams where necessary. A week and they had a full provision store in safety, could have stayed for a year in comfort.

  Orders arrived to make up an escort for a provost party. Magnus was called into HQ to be given instructions as officer in command.

  “Are we to make an end to the looting, sir?”

  Captain Callaghan shook his head, surprised by the question.

  “No, not at all, Eskdale. That’s petering out in any case. Not much left to take, these days. No, the courts have sat on the Boxers we took, and on the soldier who shot von Ketteler. Got a clear confession there. Don’t know why he did it, mind you, or if any senior man gave him the order, but no doubt he is the one who pulled the trigger. Executions are due tomorrow and the Chinese are putting a crowd together to watch, as is proper. We want a few hundred armed men present to make certain everything goes as it should – no silly rioting or rescues, that sort of thing. The Army are supplying a battalion and I thought we should have some of our lads present as well, just to remind them all that we are here and played a big part in the expedition.”

  Politics! The unending jostling for precedence and visibility – the Navy must not be forgotten when there would be cameramen from the newspapers present.

  “I don’t have frockcoat and scraper with me, sir.”

  “Nor me! I should have brought them, of course. Bound to be a need for formality when the fighting’s over – not that it really is, of course. The columns marching inland have fought one or two sharp little actions. Still some pacifying to do. We intend to leave the dirty work mostly to the Germans now. Their General is in the country, finally, and should be here within reason soon – by October for sure. Taking a briefing at Tsingtao first and getting his troops together.”

  It sounded as if von Waldersee had arrived just in time to face the northern Chinese winter; Magnus wished him luck.

  “Mid-morning then, Eskdale, for the ceremonies – beheading by the riverbank, the normal thing. It’s a canal, strictly, but as long as it’s running water, it will do, or so it seems. Bring the party here for nine o’clock and we’ll march across to join the military. The Americans and Russians will have men there as well. You know the American in charge, this fellow Hall, who is given all of their dirty work, it seems. He will be close escort to the prisoners. The Americans don’t seem to like him much, for some reason.”

  Captain Callaghan was clearly fishing, trying to discover the story, knowing that Magnus had spent some time in the Legation before the Boxers had appeared on the scene.

  “Yellow, sir. His stomach suffers a severe upset that puts him to bed whenever he smells powder.”

  “Ah! Like hay fever, but only occurs when there are bullets in the air, not pollen.”

  Magnus laughed his appreciation.

  “Exactly, sir.”

  “Explains why they have no time for him. Can’t prove he’s a coward and put him before a court, but they know well enough just what sort he is. Not a very common ailment – heard of it in the Navy, but never seen it myself.”

  Magnus thought of Parnell, who he had suspected, possibly unjustly.

  “I had doubts of one of my own officers, sir, but he died bravely at the Taku Forts so I will say no more of that. I put him at the front of an attack on a pill box sort of thing and he fell taking it – and more than that one can ask of no man.”

  “Gave him a mention in your report, I trust?”

  “Of course, sir. A good death wipes the slate clean and his family can take whatever comfort they can from his ending.”

  “Better that way. Pity this fellow Hall did not have the good taste to die. American, of course – different habits to us.”

  Magnus agreed and finished his glass and made ready to go.

  “Oh, while I think of it, Eskdale. Captain Hawkins is on his way up. Due here today. Wants to speak to you when he gets here. I’ll send him across.”

  “I need you, Eskdale. Damned tricky bit of business – calls for a fighting man with a brain. Not many of those in the Navy!”

  “Whose back am I to stab, sir?”

  “Nonsense, Eskdale! What do you think I am? No need to answer that question! No, it’s a matter of laying our hands upon a tonnage of bullion – note the quantity! It’s in the hands of one of the triads just now, they having pinched it from bankers in Tientsin and Tungchow and Peking and fooled the Russians into giving them an escort part way. They have dumped the Russkis and are heading to the coast. I had an agent with them but he couldn’t get any word to me. They passed by a telegraph station with its wires still up yesterday and I received the news an hour later. Knew they were somewhere in the north, but China’s a big place.”

  “Where are they heading, sir?”

  “Not entirely certain yet, but it looks like Ching Wang Tao. No more than a village but with a deepwater wharf. There are plans to build a port there, been in the wind for years. Probably possible to put a thousand ton coaster in there. It’s just about at the seaward end of the Great Wall. Plans for a railway line as well – I don’t know how far that’s got. Won’t be any trains in the present state of things even if there is a track.”

  Magnus thought that was all very easily followed.

  “You want me to take Obelisk to Ching Wang Tao, discover the particular steamer and pirate her, sir?”

  “Not quite that simple, Eskdale. The triad may have been in contact with the Germans as well as Russia, playing one off against the other with the intent of delivering to neither. I would not be surprised if there was a German cruiser hovering offshore and am sure there will be one of the Russians from Port Arthur in the vicinity. We know the coaster that is to pick the stuff up and are waiting for her to sail from Shanghai, which she will do as soon as the word reaches her captain of the exact rendezvous.”

  Magnus decided he needed time to assimilate the information coming his way.

  “Would you like a drink, sir? I have some quality Japanese whiskey here, sir. Given me by the General as a courtesy.”

  Alcohol in his system might ameliorate the shock that he was sure was coming his way.

  “Japanese whiskey?”

  “Yes, sir. Finest kind – I know that, it says so on the label. Look.”

  Captain Hawkins picked up the bottle and peered in horror.

  “’King Victoria finest old whiskey. Aged in the bottle for much time. Best quality as drunk by many kings.’”

  “Exactly, sir. It must be good. My gunnery lieutenant tried it and said it made a new man of him. He did say he liked the old man better.”

  “Jesus! Never let it be said that a Hawkins flinched in the face of peril. Pour me out a nip – but not too much!”

  They tried a single finger apiece, sipping cautiously.

  “That’s not too bad, in fact, Eskdale, as long as you’re not expecting whiskey. Tastes like some Gre
ek stuff I tried on Cyprus once. Carob brandy, they called it. Very smooth, at least. I wonder what it’s made from.”

  “I might prefer not to know, sir. Back to bullion – am I to steal this coaster, take it into Ching Wang Tao, load up the bullion and its guard detail of hairy great triad warriors and then steam off into the blue, under the guns of the Russians and Germans who both expect to escort her?”

  “Well, I don’t know that I would express it as baldly as that, Eskdale…”

  “I would.”

  “Well… possibly…. Certainly we take the coaster well before she reaches Ching Wang Tao and have our own men aboard her. The thing is, as I see it, you will remain in Obelisk a few miles out to sea and after she loads will come in and be seen apparently to intercept her as a smuggler – carrying opium or slaves or some-such - and put her under arrest and carry her off to the fleet in the Bay of Pechihli, off the Taku Forts. Slaves would be best – difficult for us to complain about a cargo of opium, after all, but we all detest slavers.”

  “Once we have her, we shall not let her go, of course. Easily done if we can put her at anchor under Barfleur’s guns.”

  “Exactly. Give me a refill, will you, Eskdale? Grows on you, this stuff.”

  “That’s what I am afraid of, sir. No telling exactly what it might grow. When, sir?”

  “Tomorrow. I have organised a train for the afternoon for you and your crew.”

  “Does it have to be Obelisk, sir? We might do better with a bigger cruiser.”

  “Can’t be done, Eskdale. I want you for your experience of China and a bigger ship would have a full captain who would take command of the whole affair. Obelisk it is.”

  “So be it, sir. Will you arrange for a draft of bluejackets to replace the men I’ve lost on this campaign?”

  “Doubt it – not on the best of terms with Admiral Bruce at the moment. He won’t be in the mood to do me any favours.”

  “Do we sail to Shanghai to pick up the steamer, sir?”

  “No. Destroyer Brave will do that. Your man Knowles has got her now. He can be trusted to do his part.”

  Magnus agreed. He would have liked to get back to Shanghai, even if only for an hour or two.

  “Time to stand over the executions in the morning, sir, and then take the train after midday?”

  “Yes. Better keep Callaghan happy. He wants your people there to show the white ensign.”

  Captain Hawkins returned to the Legation and Magnus set Pattishall to boxing up everything that must go with them to the ship.

  “Do we expect to come back to Peking, sir?”

  “Not if I have my way, Guns. We have a job to do on Obelisk and then we shall see what orders eventuate. For the while, assume we shall never see this hellhole again.”

  The Marines and twenty of the most reputable looking hands formed a guard of honour in the morning, marching off with rifles slung and sixty rounds to hand.

  “Don’t expect a war, Guns, but no reason why we should not be ready. You and Geddes and Holland and PO Higgins to accompany us. Might be wise to be ready to take action.”

  The crowd showed no interest in rioting and seemed unmoved, wholly uncaring about the executions. Six Boxers were sat, necks uncovered and heads bowed, waiting stoically for the swordsman. They did not flinch or show any interest in the proceedings, a degree of fatalism that Magnus could not understand.

  Captain Hawkins stood at his side.

  “Here they come, the executioners – biggest Chinks I have ever seen.”

  Two men, each well over six feet tall and massively muscled, made a play of waving their swords. They ambled across to the first pair of Boxers and rested their blades on their shoulders until their officer nodded, then they pulled the swords well back and swung hard, cutting cleanly through the necks, the heads rolling along the hard ground, one stopping short, the other bouncing into the canal.

  “Bonus payment for getting a splash, Eskdale.”

  Magnus nodded comprehension, watched as the next two heads fell away, both rolling over the bank this time.

  “No reliefs, sir? I might have thought their arms would tire.”

  “Not with just three apiece, Eskdale. I have seen executioners go through two dozen where they have had an uprising and a busy morning with the rebels. There they go, look.”

  “Why do they sit so still – not even tied?”

  “They think they’re lucky. A quick, clean death. Put up a fight or try to run and they’ll die slowly. They will have seen some of the inventive executions and won’t want to be the star attraction at one. Here comes von Ketteler’s killer now.”

  They stared at the young soldier, slumped over in the arms of his escort.

  “Is he?”

  “He made a full confession, with convincing circumstantial detail. His older brother has taken his family to Hong Kong and has a well-paid job there in the dockyard; very handy for a poor family on the edge of starvation.”

  “So be it. All nice and tidy, sir.”

  “It’s for the best. They wanted a victim. They have one. The Germans are happy and so are we and a poor man has provided for his kinsfolk in the only way open to him. Hush now! Show some respect. Your midshipman is showing a bit green in the cheeks, Eskdale.”

  “Do him good, sir. He’ll see worse than this before his career is over.”

  The sword swished and there was the heavy clunk of meat being chopped through and the familiar jet of blood and Midshipman Holland spewed, narrowly missing his own feet and those of the line of bluejackets.

  “All done for today, Eskdale. I shall see you on the train for one o’clock.” Captain Hawkins made it clear that he was not commenting on the midshipman’s poor behaviour.

  “Guns! Have a word with Mr Holland, if you please. If we were aboard ship, I would have him beaten for that. Making us a mockery in front of the Chinks! Damned poor behaviour!”

  “I will tell him, sir. Midshipmen of today! Don’t know what they’re coming to! Vomiting at the sight of blood!”

  “It was rather a lot of blood, Guns.”

  “Not the point, sir. Where would we be if Nelson had spewed at a bit of blood?”

  “Good question.”

  The Obelisks marched to the new railway station on the outskirts of Peking, the old having been thoroughly burned. There was a low platform, American style, and they had to climb up into the train, much to their disgust – it was not the way things should be done, they said.

  Magnus and Pattishall watched as their packing cases were loaded aboard, counting them on and double-checking none were missing. The officers watched over their own bags with more than normal care.

  “Can’t be less than fifty thousand quid, one way and another, sir. A profitable exercise.”

  “I did not hear that, Guns.”

  “Sorry, sir. Your man Carter has picked up your share, of course.”

  “What?”

  “Well, yes, sir. We knew that you couldn’t be in the way of picking anything up for yourself so we arranged it with him. Only fair, sir. He’s got the stuff the Japs sent over as well, sir.”

  “What stuff? There was a bottle of whiskey, that’s all I know about.”

  “I expect he didn’t want to disturb you while you were busy, sir.”

  “How kind of him! I’ll deal with him later. Get aboard, Guns – the stationmaster is scowling at us.”

  The armies took it in turns to man the station. There was a German sergeant to blow the whistle that day and he was making it clear that they were delaying him. The whistle shrilled as their door closed and the much-repaired engine jerked off down the line.

  “One of Mr Lockhart’s jobs, that engine, sir. It was sat in the siding here with a boiler riddled with bullet holes. He put it right, sir. Only engineer officer here – the rest of them having stayed aboard their ships, where they belonged. Useful that he was here, sir.”

  “I must put that into my report to Admiral Bruce. A feather in the Navy’s cap that we g
ot the railway running again.”

  They passed in sight and smell of the three battles they had fought to reach Peking. No action had been taken to bury the Chinese dead.

  “Not our stiffs, sir. Up to the Chinks to deal with their own.”

  Magnus agreed, reflecting that there were very few Chinese left alive where the expeditionary force had passed. There was a shortage of gravediggers.

  “Mr Knowles has gone, sir, I understand.”

  “Yes, Guns. That makes you acting Number One unless the admiral has already sent a man in his place.”

  Lieutenant Pattishall was too junior to hold down the place of first lieutenant on a cruiser, even one as small as Obelisk. A couple of months acting in the position would do him a great deal of good – it would show up on his record, could well result in his transfer to a destroyer or sloop as premier.

  “I shall not push for Admiral Bruce to find a man immediately. We have a job to do as soon as we get aboard. You must have worked that out for yourself. We will be short-handed. Your first task will be to write out new watch bills to use the men we have to their best advantage. The Marines have two guns at the moment. Give them four and we will have a few men spare in action. We may well need them.”

  There was a gunboat waiting at the Taku Forts to take the party to Obelisk, saving a good two hours on the fourteen miles out through the shallows to the fleet anchorage.

  Lieutenant Coulthorne was acting in place of Knowles and showed glad to welcome his captain aboard. Even doing nothing other than wait at anchor, captain of a cruiser was a major responsibility for a very young officer.

  “Message from Admiral Bruce, sir. Captain to report aboard Flag, sir.”

  “Get steam up on the picket boat.”

  “Done, sir. Midshipman Warren has her waiting for you, sir.”

  “Well done. Highly efficient, Mr Coulthorne. Make your report to Mr Pattishall and make ready to sail at earliest. Mr Lockhart! Raise steam, if you please. Carter, reporting uniform!”

  It should take no more than five minutes to change his dress and would show respect to the admiral. If Admiral Bruce was at loggerheads with Captain Hawkins, then he was in the middle and a show of courtesy might be wise.