The ships and sailors of old Salem

by Ralph Delahaye Paine

FOOTNOTES:

[44] The following letter was sent to Capt. Driver and signed by George H. Nobbs, Teacher, and three of his fellow-voyagers of the company of the Bounty:

“Pitcairns Island,
Sept. 3rd., 1830.

This is to certify that Captain Driver of the Brig Chas. Doggett of Salem carried sixty-five of the inhabitants of Pitcairn Island from Tahiti back to their native land during which passage Capt. Driver behaved with the greatest kindness and humanity becoming a man and a Christian, and as we can never remunerate him for the kindness we have received, we sincerely hope that through the blessing of the Almighty he will reap that reward which infallibly attends the Christian.”

[45] Joshua Derby and Enoch Knight, both of Salem. By a most extraordinary coincidence, this Enoch Knight’s brother, who was first officer of the ship Friendship of Salem, Captain Endicott, was killed in the same month of the same year by the natives of Qualah Battoo on the coast of Sumatra when the vessel was captured by Malay savages.

[46] The council-house and temple.

CHAPTER XXI
THE LAST PIRATES OF THE SPANISH MAIN
(1832)

In December of 1906 died Captain Thomas Fuller, the oldest shipmaster of Salem, in his ninety-fourth year. He was the survivor of an era on the sea that seems to belong with ancient history. Before 1830 he was a cabin boy in a brig of less than a hundred tons in the Cuban trade. At eighteen he was sailing to South America and Europe, and his shipmates, then in the prime of life, were veterans of the fighting privateers of the War of 1812. He lived well into the twentieth century to tell the tale of the last piracy of the Spanish Main, for he was one of the crew of the brig Mexican. Captured by a swarthy band of cut-throats in their “rakish, black schooner,” while on a voyage to Rio Janeiro, the Mexican carried the period of organized piracy down to the year 1832. Six of the pirates were hanged in Boston three years later, and their punishment finished for good and all, a peril to American shipping which had preyed along the coast for two full centuries.

The Mexican sailed from Salem on the 29th of August, 1832, commanded by Captain John G. Butman and owned by Joseph Peabody. She was a brig of two hundred and twenty-seven tons register, with a crew of thirteen men, including able seaman Thomas Fuller, nineteen years old. There was also on board as a seaman, John Battis of Salem, who before his death many years after, wrote down his memories of the voyage at the request of his son. His story is the most complete account of the famous piracy that has come down to us, and in part it runs as follows:

“I was at Peabody’s store house on the morning of the day of sailing and others of the crew came soon after. After waiting quite a while, it was suggested that we go after the cook, Ridgely, who then boarded with a Mrs. Ranson, a colored woman living on Becket street, so we set out to find him. He was at home but disinclined to go, as he wished to pass one more Sunday home. However, after some persuading he got ready, and we all started out of the gate together. A black hen was in the yard and as we came out the bird flew upon the fence, and flapping her wings, gave a loud crow. The cook was wild with terror, and insisted that something was going to happen; that such a sign meant harm, and he ran about in search of a stone to knock out the brains of the offending biped. The poor darkey did not succeed in his murderous design, but followed us grumbling.

“At about ten o’clock we mustered all present and accounted for, and commenced to carry the specie, with which we were to purchase our return cargo, on board the brig. We carried aboard twenty thousand dollars in silver, in ten boxes of two thousand dollars each; we also had about one hundred bags of saltpetre and one hundred chests of tea. The silver was stored in the ‘run’ under the cabin floor, and there was not a man aboard but knew where the money was stored.

Captain Thomas Fuller, last survivor of the crew of the brig Mexican (Died Dec., 1906)

The brig Mexican attacked by pirates, 1832

“At last everything being ready we hove anchor and stood out to sea in the face of a southeast wind. As soon as we got outside and stowed anchor we cleared ship and the captain called all hands and divided the crew into watches. I was in the first mate’s watch and young Thomas Fuller was in the captain’s watch. On account of the several acts of piracy previously committed on Salem ships, Captain Butman undoubtedly feared, or perhaps had a premonition of a like happening to his vessel, for the next day while he was aft at work on the main rigging, I heard the captain and first mate talking about pirates. The captain said he would fight a long while before he’d give his money up. They had a long talk together, and he seemed to be very much worried. I think it was the next day after this conversation between Captain Butman and Mr. Reed that I was at the wheel steering when the captain came and spoke to me. He asked me how I felt about leaving home, and I replied that I felt the same as ever, ‘all right.’ I learned afterwards that he put this question to the rest of the crew.

“We sailed along without anything occurring worthy of note until the night of the nineteenth of September. After supper we were all sitting together during the dog-watch (this being between six and eight o’clock P. M.) when all seemed bent on telling pirate yarns, and of course got more or less excited. I went below at twelve o’clock and at four next morning my watch was called. Upon coming on deck the first mate came forward and said that we must keep a sharp look-out, as there was a vessel ’round, and that she had crossed our stern and gone to the leeward. I took a seat between the knight-heads, and had been sitting there but a few minutes when a vessel crossed our bows, and went to the windward of us.

“We were going at a pretty good rate at the time. I sang out and the mate came forward with a glass, but said he could not make her out. I told him he would see her to the windward at daylight. At dawn we discovered a topsail schooner about five miles off our weather quarter, standing on the wind on the same tack we were. The wind was light, at south southwest, and we were standing about southeast. At seven o’clock the captain came on deck and this was the first he knew of the schooner being about us.

“I was at the wheel when the captain came out of the cabin; he looked toward the schooner, and as soon as he perceived her, he reached and took his glass and went into the main-top. He came down and closing his glass, said: ‘That is the very man I’ve been looking for. I can count thirty men on his deck.’ He also said that he saw one man on her fore-top-gallant yard, looking out, and that he was very suspicious of her. He then ordered us to set all sail (as the schooner didn’t seem to sail very fast), thinking we might get away from her.

“While I was up loosing the main-royal I sat on the yard, and let them hoist me up to the truck so that I could have a good look around. I saw another vessel, a brig, to the eastward of us, way ahead and reported it. The schooner had in the meanwhile sailed very fast, for when I started in to come down she was off our beam. From all appearances and her manner of sailing we concluded afterwards that she had a drag out. We then went to breakfast, the schooner kept ahead of us, and appeared to be after the other vessel. Then the captain altered the brig’s course, tacking to the westward, keeping a little off from the wind to make good way through the water to get clear of her if possible. After breakfast when we came on deck the schooner was coming down on us under a full press of sail. I noticed two kegs of powder alongside our two short carronades, the only guns we had. Our means of defense, however, proved utterly worthless, as the shot was a number of sizes too large for the gun.

“A few moments before this, the schooner had fired a shot at us to heave to, which Captain Butman was on the point of doing as I came on deck. The schooner then hoisted patriotic colors (Columbian flag), backed her main topsail, and laid to about half a mile to the windward. She was a long, low, straight topsail schooner of about one hundred and fifty tons burthen, painted black with a narrow white streak, a large figure-head with a horn of plenty painted white; masts raked aft, and a large main-top-mast, a regular Baltimore clipper. We could not see any name. She carried thirty or more men, with a long thirty-two pound swivel amidships, with four brass guns, two on each side.

“A hail came in English from the schooner, asking us where we were from and where bound and what our cargo was. Captain Butman replied ‘tea and saltpetre.’ The same voice from the schooner then hailed us for the captain to lower a boat and come alongside and bring him his papers. The boat was got ready and Captain Butman and four men—Jack Ardissone, Thomas Fuller, Benjamin Larcom and Fred Trask—got in and pulled to the schooner. When they started Captain Butman shook hands with the mate, Mr. Reed, and told him to do the best he could if he never saw him again.

“The Mexican’s boat pulled up to the gangway of the schooner but they ordered it to go to the forechains where five of the pirates jumped into our boat, not permitting any of our men to go on board the schooner and pushed off, ordering the captain back to the brig. They were armed with pistols in their belts and long knives up their sleeves. While at the schooner’s side, after getting into our boat, one of the pirates asked their captain in Spanish what they should do with us, and his answer was: ‘Dead cats don’t mew—have her thoroughly searched, and bring aboard all you can—you know what to do with them.’ The orders of the captain of the schooner being in Spanish, were understood by only one of the Mexican’s crew then in the boat, namely Ardissone, who burst into tears, and in broken English declared that all was over with them.

“It was related by one of our crew that while the Mexican’s boat was at the forechains of the schooner, the brig before mentioned was plainly seen to the eastward, and the remark was made to Thomas Fuller that it would be a good thing to shove off and pull for the other vessel in sight, to which proposition Fuller scornfully answered ‘I will do no such things. I will stay and take my chances with the boys.’

“Our boat returned to the brig and Captain Butman and the five pirates came on board; two of them went down in the cabin with us, and the other three loafed around on deck. Our first mate came up from the cabin and told us to muster aft and get the money up. Luscomb and I, being near the companionway, started to go down into the cabin when we met the boatswain of the pirate coming up, who gave the signal for attack. The three pirates on deck sprang on Luscomb and myself, striking at us with the long knives across our heads. A Scotch hat I happened to have on with a large cotton handkerchief inside, saved me from a severe wounding as both were cut through and through. Our mate, Mr. Reed, here interfered and attempted to stop them from assaulting us whereupon they turned on him.

“We then went down into the cabin and into the run; there were eight of us in all; six of our men then went back into the cabin, and the steward and myself were ordered to pass the money up which we did, to the cabin floor, and our crew then took it and carried it on deck. In the meantime, the pirate officer in charge (the third mate) had hailed the schooner and told them they had found what they were looking for. The schooner then sent a launch containing sixteen men, which came alongside and they boarded us. They made the crew pass the boxes of money down into the boat, and it was then conveyed on board the pirate.

“The launch came back with about a dozen more men, and the search began in earnest. Nine of them rushed down into the cabin where the captain, Jack Ardissone, and myself were standing. They beat the captain with their long knives, and battered a speaking trumpet to pieces over his head and shoulders. Seeing we could do nothing, I made a break to reach the deck by jumping out of the cabin window, thinking I could get there by grasping hold of the boat’s davits and pulling myself on deck. Jack Ardissone, divining my movement, caught my foot as I was jumping and saved me, as I should probably have missed my calculation and gone overboard. Jack and I then ran and the pirates after both of us, leaving the captain whom they continued to beat and abuse, demanding more money. We ran into the steerage. Jack, not calculating the break of the deck, soon went over into the hold and I on top of him. For some reason the pirates gave up the chase before they reached the break between the decks, or they would have gone down with us. By the fall Jack broke two of his ribs. Under deck we had a clean sweep, there being no cargo, so we could go from one end of the vessel to the other.

“The crew then got together in the forecastle and stayed there. We hadn’t been there long before the mate, Mr. Reed, came rushing down, chased by the boatswain of the pirate, demanding his money. The mate then told Luscomb to go and get his money, which he had previously given Luscomb to stow away for him in some safe place; there were two hundred dollars in specie, and Luscomb had put it under the wood in the hold. Luscomb went and got it, brought it up and gave it to the pirate, who untied the bag, took a handful out, retied the bag, and went up on deck and threw the handful of money overboard so that those on the schooner could see that they had found more money.

“Then the pirates went to Captain Butman and told him that if they found any more money which we hadn’t surrendered, they would cut all our throats. I must have followed them into the cabin, for I heard them tell the captain this. Previous to this, we of the crew found that we had about fifty dollars, which we secured by putting into the pickle keg, and this was secretly placed in the breast-hook forward. On hearing this threat made to the captain I ran back and informed the crew what I had heard, and we took the money out of my keg and dropped it down the air-streak, which is the space between the inside and outside planking. It went way down into the keelson. Our carpenter afterwards located its exact position and recovered every cent of it. Strange to say the first thing they searched on coming below was the pickle keg. The search of our effects by the pirates was pretty thorough, and they took all new clothes, tobacco, etc. In the cabin they searched the captain’s chest, but failed to get at seven hundred dollars which he had concealed in the false bottom; they had previously taken from him several dollars which he had in his pocket, and his gold watch, and had also relieved the mate of his watch.

“About noon it appeared to be very quiet on deck, we having been between decks ever since the real searching party came on board. We all agreed not to go on deck again and to make resistance with sticks of wood if they attempted to come down, determined to sell our lives as dearly as possible. Being somewhat curious, I thought I’d peep up and see what they were doing; as I did so, a cocked pistol was pressed to my head, and I was ordered to come on deck and went, expecting to be thrown overboard. One took me by the collar and held me out at arm’s length to plunge a knife into me. I looked him right in the eye and he dropped his knife and ordered me to get the doors of the forecastle which were below. I went down and got them, but they did not seem to understand how they were to be used, and they made me come up and ship them. There were three of them and as I was letting the last one in I caught the gleam of a cutlass being drawn, so taking the top of the door on my stomach, I turned a quick somersault and went down head first into the forecastle. The cutlass came down, but did not find me; it went into the companionway quite a depth. Then they hauled the slide over and fastened it, and we were all locked below.

“They fastened the aft companionway leading down into the cabin, locking our officers below as well. From noises that came from overhead, we were convinced that the pirates had begun a work of destruction. All running rigging, including tiller ropes, was cut, sails slashed into ribbons, spars cut loose, ship’s instruments and all movable articles on which they could lay their hands were demolished, the yards were tumbled down and we could hear the main-boom swinging from side to side. They then, as appears by later developments, filled the caboose or cook’s galley, with combustibles, consisting of tar, tarred rope-yarn, oakum, etc., setting fire to the same, and lowered the dismantled mainsail so that it rested on top of the caboose.

“In this horrible suspense we waited for an hour or more when all became quiet save the wash of the sea against the brig. All this time the crew had been cooped up in the darkness of the forecastle, of course unable to speculate as to what would be the next move of the enemy, or how soon death would come to each and all of us.

“Finally at about three o’clock in the afternoon, Thomas Fuller came running forward and informed us that the pirates were leaving the ship. One after another of the crew made their way to the cabin and on peering out of the two small stern windows saw the pirates pulling for the schooner. Captain Butman was at this time standing on the cabin table, looking out from a small skylight, the one means of egress the pirates had neglected to fasten. We told him that from the odor of smoke, we believed they had fired the brig. He said he knew it and ordered us to remain quiet. He then stepped down from the table and for several moments knelt in prayer, after which he calmly told us to go forward and he would call us when he wanted us.

“We had not been in the forecastle long before he called us back, and directed that we get all buckets under deck and fill them with water from casks in the hold. On our return he again opened the skylight and drew himself up on deck. We then handed him a small bucket of water, and he crept along the rail in the direction of the caboose, keeping well under the rail in order to escape observation from the schooner. The fire was just breaking through the top of the caboose when he arrived in time to throw several handfuls of water on top so as to keep it under. This he continued to do for a long time, not daring to extinguish it immediately lest the pirates should notice the absence of smoke and know that their plan for our destruction had been frustrated.

“When the fire had been reduced to a reasonable degree of safety, he came and opened the aft companionway and let us all up. The schooner, being a fast sailer, was in the distance about hull down. The fire in the caboose was allowed to burn in a smouldering condition for perhaps a half-hour or more, keeping up a dense smoke. By this time the pirate schooner was well nigh out of sight, or nearly topsails under, to the eastward. On looking about us, we found the Mexican in a bad plight, all sails, halyards and running gear were cut, headsails dragging in the water, and on account of the tiller ropes being cut loose, the brig was rolling about in the trough of the sea. We at once set to work repairing damages as speedily as possible and before dark had bent new sails and repaired our running gear to a great extent.

“Fortunately through the shrewdness and foresight of Captain Butman, our most valuable ship instruments, compass, quadrant, sextant, etc., had escaped destruction. It seems that immediately on discovering the true character of the stranger, he had placed them in the steerage and covered them with a quantity of oakum. This the pirates somehow overlooked in their search, although they passed and repassed it continually during their visit.

“The brig was then put before the wind, steering north, and as by the intervention of Divine Providence, a strong wind came up, which before dark developed into a heavy squall with thunder and lightning, so we let the brig go before the fury of the wind, not taking in a stitch of canvas. We steered north until next morning, when the brig’s course was altered, and we stood due west, tacking off and on several courses for a day or two, when finally a homeward course was taken which was kept up until we reached Salem, October 12, 1832.”

Thus ends the narrative of able seaman, John Battis. If the valor of Captain Butman and his crew be questioned, in that they made no resistance, it must be remembered that they were under the guns of the pirate which could have sunk the Mexican at the slightest sign of trouble aboard the brig. And although the decks of the Mexican were not stained with the slaughter of her crew, it is certain that her captors expected to burn them alive. These nineteenth century pirates were not a gentle brood, even though they did not always make their victims walk a plank. In 1829, only three years before the capture of the Mexican, the brig New Priscilla of Salem was found apparently abandoned within a day’s sail of Havana. The boarding party from the ship that sighted her found a boy of Salem, a lad in his teens, spiked to the deck, an act of wanton torture committed after every other soul on board had been thrown overboard.

The capture of the pirates of the Mexican was an extraordinary manifestation of the long arm of Justice. A short time after the return of the brig to Salem, the ship Gleaner sailed for the African coast. Her commander, Captain Hunt happened to carry with him a copy of the Essex Register which under a date of October, 1832, contained the statement of Captain Butman in which he described in detail the model, rig and appearance of the pirate schooner. Captain Hunt perused the statement with lively interest and without doubt kept a weather eye out for a rakish black schooner with a white streak, as he laid his course to the southward. He touched at the island of St. Thomas and while at anchor in the harbor saw a topsail schooner come in from seaward. The stranger anchored nearby, and Captain Hunt sat on his quarterdeck with a copy of the Essex Register in his fist. The more he studied, first the journal and then the schooner, the stronger grew his suspicions that this was the sea robber which had gutted the Mexican. There was her “large main-top-mast, but with no yards or sail on it,” “her mainsail very square at the head, sails made with split cloth and all new,” and “the large gun on a pivot amidships,” the brass twelve-pounders gleaming from her side, and “about seventy men who appeared to be chiefly Spaniards and mulattos.”

Having digested these facts, Captain Hunt went ashore and confided in an old friend. These two invented an excuse for boarding the schooner, and there on the deck they spied two spars painted black which had been stolen from the Mexican. Captain Butman had told Captain Hunt about these black spars before they parted in Salem. The latter at once decided to slip his cable that night, take the Gleaner to sea and run down to the nearest station where he might find English war vessels. There was a leak somewhere, for just before dark, the suspicious schooner made sail and under a heavy press of canvas fled for the open sea. As she passed within hailing distance of the Gleaner a hoarse voice shouted in broken English that if he ventured to take his brig to sea that night, he and his crew would have their throats slitted before daylight.

Captain Hunt stayed in harbor, but his chagrin was lightened when he saw a British frigate come in almost before the schooner had sailed beyond sight. Manning a boat he hurried aboard the frigate, and told her commander what he knew about the Mexican and what he more than guessed about the rakish schooner. The frigate put about and made sail in chase but the pirate eluded her in the night and laid a course for the African coast.

Shortly after this, the British war brig Curlew, Captain Henry D. Trotter, was cruising on the west coast of Africa, and through the officers of the frigate which had chased the pirate out off St. Thomas, she received the story of the Mexican and a description of the schooner. Captain Trotter cogitated and recalled the appearance of a schooner he had recently noticed at anchor in the River Nazareth on the African coast where slavers were wont to hover. The description seemed to fit so closely that the Curlew sailed at once to investigate. When she reached the mouth of the river, Captain Trotter with a force of forty men in boats went upstream, and pulled alongside the schooner at daybreak, ready to take her by storm. The pirates, however, scrambled into their own boats, after setting fire to their schooner and escaped to the shore where they took refuge in the swamps and could not be found. A few days after a prize crew had been put aboard the schooner she was accidentally blown up, killing two officers and two men of the Curlew. The mysterious rakish schooner therefore vanishes from the story with a melodramatic finale.

The stranded pirates meantime had sought the protection of a native king, who promised to surrender them when the demand came from Captain Trotter. After much difficulty, four of the pirates were taken in this region. Five more were captured after they had fled to Fernando Po, and the vigilance of the British navy swelled the list with seven more of the ruffians who were run down at St. Thomas. The pirates were first taken to England, and surrendered to the United States Government for trial in 1834. On August twenty-seventh of that year the British brig of war Savage entered Salem harbor with a consignment of sixteen full-fledged pirates to be delivered to the local authorities.

There was not a British flag in Salem, and the informal reception committee was compelled to ask the British commander for an ensign which might be raised on shore in honor of the visit. The pirates were landed at Crowninshield’s Wharf and taken in carriages to the Town Hall. Twelve of them, all handcuffed together, were arraigned at the bar for examination, and “their plea of not guilty was reiterated with great vociferation and much gesticulation and heat.” One of them, Perez, had confessed soon after capture, and his statement was read. The Pinda, for so the schooner was named, had sailed from Havana with the intention of making a slaving voyage to Africa. When twenty days out they fell in with an American brig (the Mexican), which they boarded with pistols and knives. After robbing her, they scuttled and burned an English brig, and then sailed for Africa.

“The hall was crowded to suffocation,” says the Salem Gazette of that date, “with persons eager to behold the visages of a gang of pirates, that terror and bugbear of the inhabitants of a navigating community. It is a case, so far as we recollect, altogether without precedent to have a band of sixteen pirates placed at the bar at one time and charged with the commission of the same crime.”

The sixteen pirates of the Pinda were taken to Boston to await trial in the United States Court. While in prison they seem to have inspired as much sympathy as hostility. In fact, from all accounts they were as mild-mannered a band of cut-throats as ever scuttled a ship. A writer in the Boston Post, September 2, 1834, has left these touches of personal description:

“Having heard a terrific description of the Spaniards now confined in Leverett Street jail on a charge of piracy, we availed ourselves of our right of entree and took a birdseye glance at the monsters of the deep but were somewhat surprised to find them small and ordinary looking men, extremely civil and good-natured, with a free dash of humor in their conversation and easy indifference to their situation. The first in importance as well as in appearance is the Captain, Pedro Gibert, a Castilian 38 years old, and the son of a merchant. In appearance he did not come quite up to our standard for the leader of a brave band of buccaneers, although a pleasant and rather a handsome mariner.”

Captain Pedro Gibert is further described as having “a round face, ample and straight nose, and a full but not fierce black eye.” Francisco Ruiz the carpenter, was “only five feet three inches high, and though not very ferocious of aspect will never be hung for his good looks.” Antonio Farrer, a native African had several seams on his face resembling sabre gashes. These were tattoo marks, on each cheek a chain of diamond-shaped links, and branded on the forehead to resemble an ornamental band or coronet. With a red handkerchief bound about his head Antonio must have been ferocious in action.

In October, November, 1835, the trial was begun before Justice Joseph Story and District Judge John Davis. The prisoners at the bar were Captain Gibert, Bernado de Soto, first mate; Francisco Ruiz, Nicola Costa, Antonio Farrer, Manuel Boyga, Domingo de Guzman, Juan Antonio Portana, Manuel Castillo, Angel Garcia, Jose Velasquez, and Juan Montenegro. Manuel Delgardo was not present. He had committed suicide in the Boston jail some time before.

The pirates conducted themselves with a dignity and courage that showed them to be no mongrel breed of outlaw, and their finish was worthy of better careers. The trial lasted two weeks and the evidence, both direct and circumstantial was of the strongest kind against seven of the pirates. Five were acquitted after proving to the satisfaction of the jury that they had not been on board the Pinda at the time of the Mexican affair. Thomas Fuller of Salem was a witness, and he upset the decorum of the court in a scandalous manner. When asked to identify the prisoners he stepped up to one of them and shouted:

“You’re the scoundrel that was first over the rail and you knocked me endwise with the flat of a cutlass. Take that.”

The impetuous young witness caught the prisoner on the jaw with a fist like an oaken billet and drove him spinning across the room by way of emphatic identification.

Before sentence was pronounced Captain Gibert rose and said in Spanish:

“I am innocent of the crime—I am innocent.” With that he presented a statement drawn up by himself in a “remarkably well written hand” which he desired might be read. After denouncing the traitor Perez, who had turned State’s evidence, the captain stated that Delgardo, before he had cut his throat in jail, had avowed his determination to commit suicide because his extorted and false confession had involved the lives of his companions. He alleged that his boatswain had been poisoned by Captain Trotter on Fernando Po for denying the robbery, and had exclaimed just before his death:

“‘The knaves have given me poison. My entrails are burning,’ after which he expired foaming at the mouth.”

The first mate, de Soto, presented a paper addressed to the presiding “Senor,” in which he protested his innocence, “before the tribunal, before the whole universe, and before the Omnipotent Being.” He went on to say that he was born at Corunna where his father was an administrator of the ecclesiastical rank; that he had devoted himself to the study of navigation from the age of fourteen, and at twenty-two had “by dint of assiduity passed successfully through his examinations and reached the grade of captain, or first pilot, in the India course. He had shortly after espoused the daughter of an old and respectable family.”

(At this point the clerk, Mr. Childs became much affected, shed tears and was obliged for a time to resign the reading of the document to Mr. Bodlam.)

The memorial of Bernado de Soto closed in this wise:

“Nevertheless I say no more than that they (the witnesses) have acted on vain presumption and I forgive them. But let them not think it will be so with my parents and my friends who will cry to God continually for vengeance on those who have sacrificed my life while innocent.”

Manuel Castillo, the Peruvian, “who had a noble Rolla countenance,” exclaimed with upraised hands:

“I am innocent in the presence of the Supreme Being of this Assembly, and of the Universe. I swear it and I desire the court will receive my memorial.”

The mate de Soto obtained a respite after telling the following story which investigation proved to be true:

He had been master of a vessel which made a voyage from Havana to Philadelphia in 1831, and was consigned to a “respectable house there.” During the return voyage to Havana he discovered the ship Minerva ashore on one of the Bahama reefs, and on fire. The passengers and crew were clinging to the masts and yards. He approached the wreck at great danger to himself and vessel and took off seventy-two persons, whom he carried safely to Havana. He was presented with a silver cup by the insurance office at Philadelphia as token of their appreciation of his bravery and self-sacrifice. The ship Minerva belonged in Salem, and the records showed that the rescue performed by de Soto had been even more gallant than he pictured it to the Court. For this service to humanity he escaped the death penalty for his later act of piracy and was subsequently pardoned by President Andrew Jackson.

When his comrades were called for sentence by Judge Story they showed the same firmness, self-possession and demeanor of innocence which had marked their conduct throughout the trial. The death sentence for the crime of piracy on the high seas was announced in these words:

“The sentence is that you and each of you, for the crime whereof you severally stand convicted, be severally decreed, taken and adjudged to be pirates and felons, and that each of you be severally hung by the neck until you be severally dead. And that the marshal of this District of Massachusetts or his Deputy, do on peril of what may fall thereon, cause execution to be done upon you and each of you severally on the 11th day of March next ensueing, between the hours of 9 and 12 of the same day; that you be now taken from hence to the jail in Boston in the District aforesaid, from whence you came; there or in some other safe and convenient jail within the District to be closely kept until the day of execution; and from thence to be taken on the day appointed for the execution as aforesaid to the place aforesaid; there to be hanged until you are severally dead. I earnestly recommend to each of you to employ the intermediate period in sober reflection upon your past life, and conduct, and by prayers and penitence and religious exercises to seek the favor of Almighty God for any sins and crimes which you may have committed. And for this purpose I earnestly recommend to you to seek the aid and assistance of the Ministers of our holy religion of the denominations of Christians to which you severally belong. And in bidding you, so far as I can presume to know, an eternal farewell, I offer up my earnest prayer that Almighty God may in his infinite goodness, have mercy on your souls.”

The Salem Gazette records that “after the sentence was read in English by the Judge, it was translated into Spanish. Captain Gibert did not waver a particle from his most extraordinary firmness of manner, and the commanding dignity of all his movements. The muscles of de Soto’s face quivered, and he seemed subdued. Castillo looked the same high scorn with which he appears to have regarded the whole proceeding. The rest gave no particular indication of their feelings. The Judge ordered the prisoners to be remanded and they were ironed and carried out of court, the crowd assembled being much excited by this moving scene. Immediately after pronouncing the sentence Judge Story left the court, appearing deeply affected by the painful duty which he has evidently most reluctantly performed under the highest sense of responsibility.”

The local chronicle thus closes the story of the piracy of the Mexican, six months after the trial:

“Five of the pirates, the captain and four of the crew were executed this morning at half past ten. We have already mentioned the temporary reprieve of the mate de Soto on account of rescuing the crew of an American vessel, and of Ruiz, the carpenter, on the score of insanity. They were accompanied to the gallows by a Spanish priest, but none of them made any confession or expressed any contrition. They all protested their innocence to the last. Last night Captain Gibert was discovered with a piece of glass with which he intended to commit suicide. And one of the men (Boyga) cut his throat with a piece of tin, and was so much weakened by loss of blood that he was supported to the gallows, and seated in a chair on the drop when it fell. It would seem from their conduct that they retained hopes of pardon to the last moment.”

De Soto, the mate, who escaped the noose, returned to Cuba and was for many years in the merchant marine in those waters. More than a generation after the Mexican affair, a Salem shipmaster, Captain Nicholas Snell, had occasion to take a steamer that traded between Havana and Matanzas. He had attended the trial of the pirates in Boston and he recognized the captain of the steamer as de Soto. The former buccaneer and the Salem captain became friends and before they parted de Soto related the story of the Pinda’s voyage. He said that he had shipped aboard her at Havana where she was represented as a slaver. Once at sea, however, he discovered that the Pinda was a pirate, and that he must share her fortune. He frankly discussed the capture of the Mexican, and threw an unholy light upon the character of Captain Gibert. The night after the capture the officers of the Pinda were drinking recklessly in the cabin, and one of the mates held up his glass of rum and shouted: “Here’s to the squirming Yankees.”

The captain had taken it for granted that the crew of the Mexican had been killed to a man before the brig was set on fire, and when the truth came out, he was fairly beside himself. With black oaths he sprang on deck, put his vessel about, and for two days cruised in search of the Mexican, swearing to slay every man on board if he could overhaul her in order to insure the safety of his own precious neck. In truth, that gale with thunder and lightning before which the Mexican drove all that thick night was seaman John Battis’ “intervention of Divine Providence.”

When the word was brought to Salem that de Soto was to be found on the Cuban coast, more than one Salem skipper, when voyaging to Havana or Matanzas, took the trouble to find the former pirate and spin a yarn or two with him over a cool glass and a long, black cigar.

CHAPTER XXII
GENERAL FREDERICK TOWNSEND WARD[47]
(Leader of the Chinese “Ever Victorious Army”)

The career of Frederick Townsend Ward flashes across the later day history of Salem like a meteor. After a youth crowded with astonishing adventure this merchant sailor and soldier of fortune became the organizer and first leader of the “Ever Victorious Army” of the Chinese Imperial forces in the Tai-ping Rebellion and was killed while storming a walled city at the head of his troops in his thirtieth year. So memorable were his services in this, the most disastrous armed conflict of modern times, that to this day his ashes which rest at Sung Kiang, are yearly honored by offerings of incense and solemn rites. A temple and a shrine mark his burial place and by an edict of their Emperor the Chinese people are commanded forever to worship and do reverence to the spirit of this foreign soldier who died ten thousand miles away from the New England seaport in which he was born and where his forefathers sleep.

In this extraordinary man were focused at white heat the spirit of high adventure and the compelling desire to seek far distant seas and play the game of life for high stakes which had made Salem famous in her golden age. Frederick Townsend Ward came of old seafaring stock which had fought and sailed through one generation after another for more than two centuries of Salem history. As far away as 1639 his ancestor, Miles Ward, had been a commissioned officer at the siege of Louisburg and had served with Wolfe at the storming of Quebec. His paternal grandfather, Gamaliel Hodges Ward, of a family of fifteen children, had one brother who served as a lieutenant in the American navy during the War of 1812 and another who was naval officer of the Port of Salem. This grandfather married Priscilla Lambert Townsend, thus uniting three strains of militant seafaring blood. Captain Moses Townsend had died in England as a prisoner of war during the Revolution, his son of fifteen sharing his captivity as a patriotic seaman. On the records of the Salem Marine Society, founded in 1766, are the names of nine Wards and three Lamberts, and among the members of the Salem East India Marine Society are to be found six Wards, six Hodges and a Townsend all of whom must have doubled Cape Horn or the Cape of Good Hope as shipmasters or supercargoes in order to qualify for admission to the Society.

The father of Frederick Townsend Ward was a shipmaster and the son born in 1831 passed his boyhood in Salem at a time when, although the world-wide commerce had begun to ebb, the old town still had its schools of navigation, its nautical instrument dealers, its shipyards and ropewalks, its East India warehouses, its sailors’ lodging houses, dance halls and slop shops crowded along the water front. The wharves were still thronged with the activities of voyagers inbound from and outbound to the uttermost parts of the earth. Although the railroads had begun to build up the larger deep water ports and to sap the life of such lesser ports as Salem, yet even in those days to be born in Salem was to be born a sailor. The harbor still knew the fleets which kept it in touch with scores of remote and romantic ports and the marvelous tales of sea-tanned sailors tempted boyhood to dream of exploring regions little known in books.

“The stick the schoolboy whittled shaped itself into a hull, a rudder, a bowsprit or a boom. When in school he drew lines on his slate to relieve the tedium of the rule of three, his sketches took form in yards and shrouds and bob-stays. Give him a box of water colors and the private signals of the East India merchants were its earliest products. If he were too little to pull a pair of oars, he sculled a dory with one, and he was no more than in breeches when he knew every ring-bolt, block and gasket from cutwater to stern-post of the East Indiamen discharging at Derby Wharf. If he could muster a few shillings, some kindly mariner took charge of them as a venture and brought him home in a twelve month or so their value trebled in nutmegs or pepper-corns or gum copal. If, on leaving school, he did not ship before the mast he tried to sail as cabin boy or ship’s clerk, or supercargo.

“When he had won his fight on the sea and came at last to live in comfort on shore, if he built himself a den in which to doze and smoke and read and chat, it was apt to be shaped like a ship’s cabin, to have a swinging light overhead, transoms for bunks, and spyglass, compass and barometer handy. The dust and cobwebs under the eaves of his attic concealed camphor and cedar trunks stuffed with camel’s hair shawls, pongee silks and seersucker suits. A log or two of sandalwood, brought home for dunnage, might sizzle on the andirons and fill his house with the spicy breath of Arabia.

“When a family returned from residence in foreign lands it was not unusual for them to bring Chinese cooks, nurse maids and house servants. The high-bred Parsee merchant with his lofty head-dress of figured taffeta and buckram was no stranger in Salem, nor was the turbanned Indian or Arab unknown.”

Such was the atmosphere in which young Frederick Townsend Ward was reared and the spirit of the place lured his daring and romantic fancy to dream of enterprises on blue water. He sailed in all kinds of small craft about Salem harbor before he was in his teens and was noted as the boldest lad and best seaman of the company of ardent friends whom he chose as his companions. He sought and found employment at sea when he was no more than fifteen years old and it sounds extraordinary in these times to learn that at this age he went out on his first voyage as second mate of the clipper ship Hamilton bound from New York to China. This stripling mate of fifteen years was placed in a position of authority over his watch of rugged forecastle hands, some of whom had been going to sea before he was born. Young Ward’s father was known as a stern disciplinarian of the quarterdeck, and the son won a reputation for the same quality of resourceful manhood. His captain found him to be a smart, efficient and capable officer and so reported him to the owners of the ship. At eighteen years of age he was first mate of the ship Russell Glover commanded by his father, on a voyage from New York to San Francisco. In the latter port the ship was laid up for a long time and young Ward was kept on board as ship-keeper. His impetuous temperament could not long endure such monotony as this and it was at San Francisco that he forsook the sea for a time to lose himself in a haze of stormy adventures as a soldier of fortune in Spanish American countries. It is known that during this period he gained the friendship of Garibaldi, who for eleven years previous to 1848 had been fighting in behalf of the revolutionary cause of Brazil.

Frederick T. Ward.[signature]

In 1851, at the age of twenty, the family records show that Ward was sailing as first mate of a bark from San Francisco to Shanghai where he left the ship and took a berth for a short time, on board one of the vessels moored in the river to prevent opium smuggling. In the following year he appears in the American merchant service once more as first mate of the ship Gold Hunter from Shanghai to Tehuantepec.

Upon reaching Nicaragua his restless temperament must have impelled him to leave the quarterdeck, for somewhat later than this he joined a filibustering expedition of William Walker. The tragic history of this attempt to found an empire in Central America need not be told in detail. If Walker had succeeded he would have been called a man of military genius and a farsighted maker of destinies. He was shot by order of a drum-head court martial at daybreak on September 3, 1860, and the shattered remnants of his force were brought home to New York in the United States ship Wabash.

Frederick Townsend Ward could not have remained long with Walker, however, for from Central America he made his way into Mexico and is said to have been offered a command in the Mexican army. His plans seem to have gone all wrong, for he set out penniless and alone to cross the country to lower California. Back in San Francisco once more he took a berth as first officer of the clipper ship Westward Ho of New York. It is claimed that between 1854 and 1856 Ward was on the Crimea as lieutenant in the French army, fighting against the Russians. His sister has related that she was at boarding school during that period and that Frederick called on her there to take his leave, as he told her, “on his way to the Crimean War,” but the dates are conflicting.

This page of his life, like those immediately preceding it, is more or less vague so far as details are concerned. It is certain, however, that Frederick Townsend Ward was picking up here and there as a soldier of fortune a knowledge of men and of military matters which were to stand him in service when the grand chance offered. He landed at Shanghai in the autumn of 1859, probably as first mate of an American sailing ship. He was without money, without influence and without prospects, but he was determined to carve a place for himself among the Chinese people. The Tai-ping Rebellion had begun in 1851 and had raged for eight years when Ward landed at Shanghai. This tremendous upheaval which was to continue six more years, and to cost the lives of twenty millions of Chinese, was threatening Shanghai and repeated attempts had been made to invest and capture this great port of foreign commerce and shipping.

The Imperial Government had been unable to make effective headway against the vast hordes of rebels who had flocked to the standards of the Rebel leader, who called himself the “Heavenly King of the Great Dynasty of the Heavenly Kingdom.” By 1860 the Tai-pings had swept across the populous and fertile regions of two of the three watercourses of China and their chief end now was to regain the mastery of the Yang-tsze Kiang. The destruction of property and population within the three months since their sally from the captured metropolis of Nanking, revived the stories told of the devastation caused by Attilla and Tamerlane. In August of this year Shanghai was threatened by a force of somewhat less than twenty thousand rebels and would have been captured if it had not been protected by British and French troops landed to protect the foreign interests of the port.

Ward was twenty-seven years old at this time and found his first employment as an officer on one of the river steamers which plied up and down the Yang-tsze. He showed his mettle while engaged in this traffic, for a merchant of Shanghai who took passage on Ward’s steamer, relates that she grounded and was in danger of capture by Chinese pirates. The captain believed that destruction was so certain that he talked of suicide. Ward took his place, put heart into the crew, stood the pirates off and got the steamer afloat.

Meanwhile the foreign merchants and bankers of Shanghai were working hand in hand with the natives to strengthen the defense of the city. Large amounts of money were raised to equip gunboats and artillery and a foreign contingent was drilling as a volunteer infantry force. Ward obtained a commission as first officer of the American-built gunboat Confucius, which was one of a flotilla organized to fight the rebels on the water. His commander, Captain Gough, made young Ward acquainted with an influential Chinese banker, Taki, who co-operated in behalf of the Chinese Imperial Government with the foreign residents of Shanghai who were furnishing arms and gunboats and money to attack the rebels. Ward made a brilliant record as a fighting officer in this gunboat service and won the admiration and confidence of this Taki, who was the confidential adviser of Li Hung Chang, then fast coming into prominence as the strong man of the demoralized Manchu Government at Peking.

Douglas, the British biographer of Li Hung Chang, has placed it to the credit of the great Viceroy that he should have been astute enough to recognize the ability of this young American wanderer who appeared upon the scene from nowhere in particular. This writer states that Ward was given employment as a military officer by the Association of Patriotic Merchants of Shanghai “at Li’s instigation.” It is certain that Ward did not let the grass grow under his feet. The Imperialists were in desperate straits and were seeking foreign aid. Wasting no words, Ward submitted a proposition to the Government through Taki, that he would, for a large cash price, undertake the capture of Sung Kiang, the capital city of the Shanghai district, and a great rebel stronghold, a few miles up the Yang-tzse. Once in possession of Sung Kiang he would make it his headquarters for operations by land and water, as a diversion to draw the Tai-pings away from Shanghai.

This audacious proposition was accepted and funds were granted to make a beginning. A company of one hundred foreigners was enlisted by Ward, his recruits being picked from among the deserters and discharged seamen and other desperate riffraff of the naval and merchant fleets. With this handful of men hammered into some kind of discipline and well armed, Ward led the way to the walls of Sung Kiang beyond which the rebels were mustered in thousands. A desperate assault was made, but Ward had no artillery and could not batter a breach in the great walls. His men tried to take the place by a straight assault, but were beaten back, the motley legion badly cut up, and compelled to straggle back to Shanghai.

Ward paid off and discharged this company and recruited his next force largely from among the native sailors of Manila who were always to be found in Shanghai. With only two white officers and less than one hundred men the American adventurer made a second attack on the rebel stronghold and surprising the garrison at night managed to open one of the gates and charge into the city. The Tai-pings were unable to withstand the headlong assault of this small column and surrendered the place, which was looted and the plunder given to the men who had captured it.

Ward had carried out his contract and the Chinese Imperial Treasurer paid him his price. He had established a base and a fortress to hold and there were funds in his war chest. His success attracted many capable foreign fighting men and his force grew until General Frederick Townsend Ward was able to organize a formidable body of drilled soldiers to which the name of Chang-Shing Kiun, or “Ever Victorious Force,” was given by the Chinese. Its composition was heterogeneous, but the energy, tact and discipline of the leader soon molded it into something like a martial corps, able to serve as a nucleus for training a native army.

“Foreigners generally looked down upon the undertaking and many of the allied naval and military officers regarded it with doubt and dislike. It had to prove its character by works, but the successive defeats of the insurgents during the year 1862 at Kiangsu and Chehkiang clearly demonstrated the might of those drilled men over ten times their number of undisciplined braves.

“Soon after his first success General Ward decided to move against Tsing-pu, a Rebel stronghold thirty miles from his base. The flower of his fighting force for this expedition consisted of five drill-masters and twenty-five deserters, mostly English, whom he had secretly enlisted at Shanghai. Added to these was his small command of Manila-men, now two hundred in number and a body of five thousand Chinese from the highly paid, picked troops of the foremost Chinese general, Li Ai Tang, a corps distinguished by the title of “Imperial Braves.”[48]

In September of 1861 Ward launched this force against Tsing-pu, which was garrisoned by two thousand rebels, who were commanded by a brilliant English officer named Savage. The defense conducted by this opposing soldier of fortune was so successful that Ward’s little army was crumpled up by volleys of musketry poured from the walls and totally defeated in an engagement which lasted not more than a quarter of an hour. Half of the attacking force was killed or wounded and Ward himself was five times hit by bullets. While he was under the surgeon’s care in Shanghai he gave it out that his force had been disbanded because the foreign allies set up the claim that he had been guilty of a breach of neutrality. His enlistments and drills went on in secret, however, and his chief supporter, Taki, put him in possession of several batteries of artillery.

When Ward was allowed to leave the hospital he mustered all the men he could find of his old corps and made ready to take the field. Again he sallied out against Tsing-pu, but the second attack was even more disastrous than the first. He lost his guns and his gunboats and many of his men and returned to his headquarters at Sung Kiang beaten and discredited. Taki, representing the Imperial Government, had lost confidence in Ward as a soldier, but Li Hung Chang still had faith in him and was ready to support him in further movements.

Ward’s funds were at a low ebb at this time, for Admiral Sir James Hope, of the British Navy, put him under arrest and held him a close prisoner on the flagship Chesapeake. The Admiral made an effort to bring Ward to trial on the charge of recruiting deserters from the British Navy, but the American soldier proved that he was a naturalized subject of China and the Admiral had no other resource than to keep this troublesome interloper a prisoner on board the flagship. He made his escape by jumping overboard and swimming ashore. After a series of thrilling adventures he once more returned to the task of recruiting British deserters for his garrison at Sung Kiang.

The jealousy and animosities of the British and other foreign naval men soon led Ward to change his tactics and he bent his efforts to recruit a native force to be commanded by European officers and drilled in the European school of arms. Neither the Imperial Government of China, nor its European allies could take exceptions to these methods and Sung Kiang became a military school for the training of the first modern Chinese Army.

“On a personal inspection of the Camp of Instruction at Sung Kiang to which he had been invited, Sir James Hope was well received by the troops and reported favorably. He saw, for the first time in his life, a large force of native Chinamen paraded in European uniforms and showing themselves expert in European drill. In view of such results and of the possibilities which they disclosed, he found it best to wink at the harboring of a few deserters from his fleet, and Ward was promised every facility in his new attempt.

“In the opening months of 1862 the time had come when the Allies were ready to throw off the mask of nominal neutrality, and to take open ground against the Rebellion. Humanity and civilization itself seemed to demand it. The Tai-ping movement was a little past its zenith, but still most disastrous to commerce and to the general interests of China as most foreigners saw them. The compact between the Imperialists and the Rebels had provided that the latter should not come within thirty miles of Shanghai and that the Allies should not interfere within that radius. It was limited to a year and the limit had expired. Ward at this time commanded a force of ten thousand men. He seems at last to have come to terms of perfect understanding with the authorities, both native and foreign.

“On February 21, 1862, General Ward took the offensive with a thousand men, supported by Admiral Hope and the French Admiral Protet, in a movement to enforce the observances of the thirty-mile limit. This movement involved many encounters and was a brilliant success. From it Ward won great credit for his courage and strategic sense, together with the high appreciation of both his naval supporters. Of the six thousand Rebels who were expected to make of the fortified town they were defending an impregnable fortress, a large part were captured and turned over to the mercies of the Shanghai Imperialists, who proceeded to decapitate them, with every circumstance of barbarity, in the public square of the city. Ward succeeded in arresting the slaughter as soon as it was brought to his knowledge.

“This victory was hailed with great enthusiasm, and earned for Ward’s corps the compliments of an Imperial decree. Its numbers were doubled, and Admiral Hope found it in his great heart to forgive his quondam prisoner and to praise him warmly. In March, 1862, a memorial to the British Consul-General from representative citizens of Shanghai, shows that progress was making, though slowly, for the relief of the port.

“At this time Ward discovered that the Rebel leaders were contracting for gunboats in the United States. On learning from him this fact, Li Hung Chang made an effective protest to the American Minister, and applauded the loyalty which prompted Ward’s information and which defeated the Rebel plan. But gunboats and implements of war were a necessity to both parties and Ward, through his brother who had joined him in China, and through his father, now a ship broker in New York, was in a position to supply the Imperialists with muskets, artillery and river steamers, and this he did.

“On April 26th, an attack was planned on a strong walled town twenty miles from Shanghai. A half-dozen armed steamers and transports furnished by the Allies, together with thirty little Chinese gunboats, moved up the river in support of Ward’s force, which consisted of three battalions with howitzers, and of a body of three thousand Chinese troops. The city fell and was looted, mainly, it was charged, by French sailors.

“On May 6th, the English and French Admirals took their turn at the work and the French Admiral Protet, universally esteemed, was killed. A bronze statue commemorates the distinguished Frenchman at Shanghai, and Imperial honors were accorded him in an edict commanding gifts “to comfort the departed soul of the faithful,” and sacrifices to be arranged by Li Hung Chang, “to the manes of the French Admiral.” A detachment of the “Ever Conquering Legion” was present at the military mass celebrated in his honor at the Cathedral of Shanghai.

“On May 13th, Ward made his fourth attempt to capture Tsing-pu and this time with complete success. No looting was permitted. Ward received in hand the stipulated thirty thousand taels as the price of this important capture, returning at the head of his victorious troops to the Sung Kiang headquarters. He had now equipped his men with arms bought from the English Army in India and with Prussian rifles. He had been supported in this attack by English and French troops and by a French gunboat carrying a heavy rifled gun which, after a three hours’ bombardment, effected a breach and let in his force. But his men were later dislodged by an overwhelming Rebel horde, after a most creditable defense.

“General Ward and his troops earned great distinction in an action on May 19th. Ward’s ambition at this time seems to have been to lead a corps of twenty-five thousand men of all arms, and to be empowered by the Emperor to operate with a free hand, independently of English and French Allies, and to be responsible directly to him. The London Times, in a notice of his death, intimates that he had achieved this object.

“At last, in August, 1862, he started out without support for a fifth attack upon the stronghold of Tsing-pu. A reward was offered for the first man to enter the city and a Manila-man, Macanaya, General Ward’s devoted aid-de-camp, secured it. The ‘Legion’ succeeded at last in taking and holding the town. Probably this was the action so feelingly described by the one great captain among all the hosts enlisted under the Rebel flag. He complains that Li Hung Chang was employing “devil soldiers” against him, and found it necessary to march in person against these “Foreign Devils” at the head of ten thousand picked men. “Imagine it,” he says, “a thousand devils keeping in check my ten thousand men! Who could put up with such a thing!”

“Ward’s relations with Taki were at this time most cordial, and they were now joint owners of two American-built gunboats. With other gunboats chartered by them, the banker and General Ward—he was now a Chinese Admiral as well—fitted out an expedition against the river pirates. Bombarding failed to dislodge them from their stockades, but Ward disembarked a force and they fled before him.

“Ward’s success in disciplining the Chinese was beginning to stimulate the Allies. The French in turn raised a native legion and put a French officer at the head of it, and when an expedition was organized against a force of Rebels threatening Ning Po, with the support of Captain Rhoderick Dhu commanding the Encounter whose draught of water forbade a near approach, a French lieutenant leading a corps of the new Franco-Chinese contingent was taken into action on board the river boat Confucius, while Ward’s men, in equal numbers, were towed in launches up the river by the British gunboat Hardy. At the end of a six hours’ struggle Ward fell back with the loss of eight officers and a hundred and fifty men. Next day the attack was renewed with success and the Rebels fled to Tsz Ki.”

The story now approaches the closing scene of Ward’s career. He was now ordered to Ning Po to take command. The order reached him at dusk. Late as the hour was, he at once paraded his troops, reviewed them, and expressed the highest satisfaction with accouterments and drill. He was never to marshal them again. More devoted following no captain ever had. It was their pride to be known as “Ward’s disciplined Chinese.” He reached Ning Po with only the life-guard of Manila-men who were always near him, and at once made his dispositions for driving the Rebels out of Tsz Ki.

On the morning of September 20th he took five or six hundred men up the river and opened an attack on the fort at Tsz Ki with howitzers. A storming party passed him on its approach to the wall it was to scale, and he said to Captain Cook who led it: “You must do it with a rush, or we shall fail, for they are very numerous.” He was shot and carried to the rear before the scaling ladders could be placed. His command was largely made up of troops which were strangers to him, and it has been hinted that he may have been shot by his own men. The assault prevailed. Tsz Ki fell, and the Legion held the town.

Ward’s comrade in arms, Forrester, has thus described the closing scene:

“‘We now turned our attention to Tsz Ki. Ward being anxious to capture the city with the least possible delay, we started out together to reconnoitre the field. We had become so accustomed to the enemy’s fire that we had grown somewhat careless. While we were standing together inspecting the position Ward put his hand suddenly to his side and exclaimed: ‘I have been hit.’ A brief investigation showed that the wound was a serious one, and I had him carried on board the Hardy where surgical attendance was promptly given. I then held a consultation with the officers of the expedition. It was decided to carry out Ward’s plan and attack the city at once. Ladders were quickly thrown across the moat which were then drawn over and placed against the walls, and, before the garrison fully recognized what we were about, our troops were in possession of the city.

“‘As soon as I had my troops properly housed and posted, I set out with General Ward for Ning Po. Arrived there, the General was removed to the house of Doctor Parker, a resident physician, and every precaution taken. But he had been gradually sinking, and he died that night.

“‘Early the next morning I ordered his body conveyed on board the Confucius, that we might reach Shanghai at the earliest possible moment. The captain of the boat (Lynch by name, afterwards with Semmes in the Alabama) proved insubordinate. At nine o’clock we were ten miles out at sea and short of coal. I had the captain put in irons and turned over the command to the lieutenant. We were then in such a strong current that I gave up hope of getting the steamer back to Ning Po, determined rather to work our way to a port near Shanghai. By the middle of the afternoon we ran alongside a British ship flying Dent and Company’s flag. I knew this firm to be warm supporters of the Imperial Government, and so had no hesitance in boarding the vessel and obtaining a supply of coal. The funeral of General Ward at Shanghai was a most impressive one. A great number of civil and military officers accompanied his body to Sung Kiang, where it was interred with great pomp, and enjoyed the extraordinary honor of a resting place in the Confucian Temple.”

Captain Rhoderick Dhu, of the flagship Encounter, in transmitting Lieutenant Bogle’s report of Ward’s death to Sir James Hope, wrote: “It is now my painful duty to inform you that General Ward, while directing the assault, fell, mortally wounded. The Hardy brought him down the same evening to Ning Po, and he died the next morning in Doctor Parker’s house. During a short acquaintance with General Ward I have learned to appreciate him much, and I fear his death will cast a gloom over the Imperial cause in China, of which he was the stay and prop.”

How cordially Sir James responded to these generous sentiments from a gallant British sailor appears from his dispatch to Minister Burlingame, transmitting the announcement of Ward’s death, which the American Minister embodied in his dispatch to Washington:

“I am sure you will be much grieved to hear of poor Ward’s death. The Chinese Government have lost a very able and gallant servant, who has rendered them much faithful service, and whom it will not be easy for them to replace.”

Of the events immediately following the death of Frederick Townsend Ward and the appointment of Colonel Peter Gordon (“Chinese” Gordon) to the command of the “Ever Victorious Legion,” Dr. S. Wells Williams in his monumental work, The Middle Kingdom, writes as follows:

“The death of General Ward deprived the Imperialists of an able leader. The career of this man had been a strange one, but his success in training his men was endorsed by honorable dealings with the mandarins who had reported well of him at Peking. He was buried at Sung Kiang, where a shrine was erected to his memory and incense is burned before him to this day.”

It was difficult to find a successor, and the command was entrusted to his second, an American named Burgevine, who was accepted by the Chinese, but proved to be incapable. He was superseded by Holland and Cooke, Englishmen, and in April, 1863, the entire command was placed under Colonel Peter Gordon of the British army.

“During the interval between May, 1860, when Ward took Sung Kiang, and April 6, 1863, when Gordon took Fushan, the best manner of combining native and foreign troops was gradually developed as they became more and more acquainted with each other and learned to respect discipline as an earnest of success. Such a motley force has seldom if ever been seen, and the enormous preponderance of Chinese troops would have perhaps been an element of danger had they been left idle for a long time. The bravery of the “Ever Victorious” force in the presence of the enemy had gradually won the confidence of the Allies, as well as the Chinese officials in whose pay it was; and when it operated in connection with the French and British contingent in driving the Tai-pings out of Ning Po prefecture, the real worth of Ward’s drill was made manifest.”

General Gordon won a far greater fame in China than Frederick Townsend Ward, but the Salem soldier of fortune might have done much bigger things than the inscrutable fates permitted if he had been suffered to live his allotted years. He was cut off in the flower of his youth, in the flush and glory of romantic success against the most desperate odds, and he had played the game of life astonishingly well.

Until death overtook Ward at thirty his career singularly paralleled that of “Chinese” Gordon. Gordon served as a lieutenant in the Crimean War before he was twenty; next acquitted himself most ably on the Russo-Turkish frontier in Asia; began his career in China at the age of twenty-seven and had won his fame in the Tai-ping Rebellion at thirty.

The Chinese tributes to Ward’s memory were both eloquent and sincere, and as presented in official decrees make a unique tribute from an alien people, such as has been bestowed by China upon no other American. The death of Ward was conveyed to the notice of the Emperor of China by Li Hung Chang, whose memorial read:

“Li Hung Chang, Governor of Kiangse, on the 6th day of the intercalary 8th moon, in the first year of the reign Tungche, memorializes the Throne.... It appears that Brigadier Ward is a citizen of New York, in the United States, who in the tenth year of the reign Hienfung came to China. Afterwards he was employed by Wuhyu, Taotai of Shanghai, to take command of a contingent of men from India to follow the regular army in the attack on Kiating and Taet’sang, and twice to the capture of Sung Kiang, as well as to the repeated attack on Tsing-pu, where, leading his officers and men, he was several times seriously wounded. Later, after the contingent of Indians had, by an Imperial decree, been dismissed, Ward petitioned the Taotai, stating that he was willing to become a Chinese subject; whereupon Wuhyu retained him and gave him command of the Ever Victorious Army, to support the Imperial troops in the defence of Sung Kiang.

“In the first moon of the present year Ward defeated, with 500 troops, above 100,000 rebels at Yin-hai-pang, Tien-mashan, and other places in the Prefecture of Sung Kiang. Thus with few he overcame the many; a meritorious deed that is very rare. Again he arranged for the destruction of the rebel fortifications of Kau Keaou, Sian t’ang, Chow-pu, Nanking, Che-ling, Wang-keasze, and Lung-chuan, having the coöperation of British and French troops. From a petition of Wuhyu it appears that in the early part of spring of the present year, Sung Kiang and Shanghai were threatened by the rebels, and that the turning away of the danger and the maintenance of tranquility in those places was chiefly due to the exertions of Ward.

“By Imperial favor he was repeatedly promoted—from the fourth rank with the peacock’s feather to the decorations of the third rank, again to the rank of titulary Futsiang, Brigadier, and again to Futsiang gazetted for employment in office; and praise was repeatedly bestowed on him by your Majesty’s decree. From the time of the arrival of Your Majesty’s Minister, Li Hung Chang, at Shanghai, to take charge of affairs, this Futsiang Ward was in all respects obedient to the orders he received, and whether he received orders to harass the city of Kinshwanei or to force back the rebels at Linho, he was everywhere successful. Still further, he bent all his energy on the recapture of Tsing-pu, and was absorbed in a plan for sweeping away the rebels from Soochan. Such loyalty and valor, issuing from his natural disposition, is extraordinary when compared with these virtues of the best officers of China; and among foreign officers it is not easy to find one worthy of equal honor.

“Your Majesty’s Minister, Li Hung Chang, has already ordered Wuhyu and others to deck Ward’s body with a Chinese uniform, to provide good sepulture, and to bury him at Sung Kiang, in order to complete the recompense for his valiant defence of the dynasty. Brigadier Ward’s military services at Sung Kiang and Ning Po are conspicuous. At this time he lost his life by a wound from a musket ball. We owe him our respect, and our deep regret. It is appropriate, therefore, to entreat that your Gracious Majesty do order the Board of Rites to take into consideration suitable posthumous rewards to be bestowed on him, Ward; and that both at Ning Po and at Sung Kiang sacrificial altars be erected to appease the manes of this loyal man.

“In addition to the communication made to the Tsungli Yamen, your memorialist, Li Hung Chang, consulted Tseng Kwo Fan, Governor General of the Two Kiang, and Tso-Tsung-Lang, Governor of Chehkiang, with regard to the recapture of Tsze Kee by the rebels, and their spying out the approaches to the city of Ning Po; also with regard to the newly appointed acting Taotai of Ning Po, She Chengeh, putting this city in a state of defence, and the levying of contributions at Shanghai, to be forwarded to Ning Po; and further, with regard to Brigadier Ward’s recapture from the rebels of Tsz Ki, where he perished from a wound by a musket ball, and for which reason Your Majesty is entreated to bestow on him posthumous honours; and finally, with regard to dispatching with all haste this memorial, and laying it before Your Majesty’s Sacred Glance for approval and further instruction.”

With a promptness unusual in Oriental procedure, this memorial was followed in twelve days by the issue of an Imperial Edict, of which the record obtained for the Essex Institute at the Tsung-li-Yamen in Peking by the late Minister Conger, is as follows:

“The following Imperial Rescript was received on the 18th day of the Intercalary Eighth Moon of the First Year of the Reign of Tung Chih.

“Li Hung Chang in a memorial has acquainted Us of the death of Brigadier Ward, who perished from the effects of a bullet-wound received at the capture of Tsz-Ki, and has asked Our sanction for the building of a temple to him as a sincere expression of Our sorrow at his death. Ward was a native of the United States of America. Having desired to become a Chinese subject, and offered his services to Us, he joined the Imperial Troops at Shanghai, and took Kading, Tai-Tsan, and Sung Kiang, and later defeated the rebels at Yin-hai-pang, Tien-ma-shan, and other parts, in the district of Sung Kiang. He also, in company with other foreign officers, destroyed the rebel fortifications at Kaou-Keaou and elsewhere. We, admiring his repeated victories, had been pleased to confer upon him special marks of Our favor, and to promote him to the rank of Futsiang gazetted for service.

“According to the present memorial of Li Hung Chang, Ward having learned of the designs upon Ning Po of the Chi-Kiang rebels who were in possession of Tsz-Ki, at once advanced with the Ever Victorious Army to destroy them. While in person conducting the movements he was fatally wounded in the chest by a rebel bullet fired from the top of the city wall. The bullet came out through his back. It grew dark to the General instantly, and he fell. The City of Tsz-Ki was already taken by his Ever Victorious Army. Ward returned to Ning-Po, where he died of his wound the next day.

“We have read the memorial, and feel that Brigadier Ward, a man of heroic disposition, a soldier without dishonor, deserves Our commendation and compassion. Li Hung Chang has already ordered Wu-Shi and others to attend to the proper rites of sepulture, and We now direct the two Prefects that special temples to his memory be built at Ning Po and Sung Kiang. Let this case still be submitted to the Board of Rites, who will propose to Us further honors so as to show our extraordinary consideration towards him, and also that his loyal spirit may rest in peace. This from the Emperor! Respect it!”

On October 27, 1862, Minister Burlingame forwarded to Washington his official communication announcing Ward’s death, which read as follows:

“Legation of the United States,
“Peking, Oct. 27, 1862.

“Sir: It is my painful duty to inform you of the death of General Ward, an American, who had risen by his capacity and courage to the highest rank in the Chinese service. He was shot and mortally wounded while reconnoitering, before its capture, Tsz-Ki, a place near Ning-Po. The incidents attending his wound and death please find in the edict of the Emperor.

“General Ward was originally from Salem, Massachusetts, where he has relatives still living, and had seen service in Mexico, the Crimea, and, he was sorry to say, with the notorious Walker.

“He fought countless battles, at the head of a Chinese force called into existence and trained by himself, and always with success.

“Indeed, he taught the Chinese their strength, and laid the foundations of the only force with which their government can hope to defeat the rebellion.

“Before General Ward died, when on board of her Majesty’s steamer Hardy, he made his will, and named Admiral Sir James Hope and myself his executors.

“In a letter communicating the fact to me, Sir James writes:

“‘I am sure you will be much grieved to hear of poor Ward’s death.

“‘The Chinese government have lost a very able and gallant servant, who has rendered them much faithful service, and whom it will not be easy for them to replace.’

“On account of my absence from Shanghai, I shall authorize our consul, George F. Seward, Esq., to act for me.

“General Ward was a man of great wealth, and in a letter to me the last probably he ever wrote, he proposed through me to contribute ten thousand taels to the government of the United States, to aid in maintaining the Union, but before I could respond to his patriotic letter he died.

“Let this wish, though unexecuted, find worthy record in the archives of his native land, to show that neither self-exile nor foreign service, nor the incidents of a stormy life, could extinguish from the breast of this wandering child of the republic the fires of a truly loyal heart.

“After Ward’s death, fearing that his force might dissolve and be lost to the cause of order, I hastened by express to inform the Chinese government of my desire that an American might be selected to fill his place, and was so fortunate, against considerable opposition, as to secure the appointment of Colonel Burgevine.

“He had taken part, with Ward, in all the conflicts, and common fame spoke well of him.

“Mr. Bruce, the British minister, as far as I know, did not antagonize me, and the gallant Sir James Hope favored the selection of Burgevine. Others did not.

“I felt that it was no more than fair that an American should command the foreign-trained Chinese on land, as the English through Osborne, would command the same quality of force on sea. Do not understand by the above that in this, or in any case, I have pushed the American interests to the extent of any disagreement. On the contrary, by the avowal of an open and friendly policy, and proceeding on the declaration that the interests of the Western nations are identical, I have been met by the representatives of the other treaty powers in a corresponding spirit, and we are now working together in a sincere effort to strengthen the cause of civilization in the East.

“I have the honor to be your obedient servant,

“Anson Burlingame.

“Hon. William H. Seward,
“Secretary of State, Washington.”

The Imperial edict called forth from Secretary of State Seward this feeling response:

“You will express to Prince Kung the President’s sincere satisfaction with the honors which the Emperor of China has decreed to be paid to the memory of our distinguished fellow citizen. He fell while illustrating the fame of his country in an untried, distant, and perilous field. His too early death will, therefore, be deeply mourned by the American people.”

The whole correspondence was called for by the United States Senate, upon motion of Senator Sumner, and was duly transmitted under cover of a message from President Lincoln.

Of the proposed memorial temples, one has been erected and was dedicated with impressive ceremonies on March 10, 1877. It is still guarded with religious care and is the scene of elaborate rites on each New Year’s Day in February.

The consecration of this temple was described in the North China Mail as follows:

“The dedication of the Tsze t’ang, or Memorial Hall, recently erected by Feng, Taotai of Shanghai, at Sung Kiang in commemoration of the late General Ward, of the “Ever Victorious Army,” was performed on Saturday, with religious rites, in accordance with Chinese custom in such cases. The Taotai had, through the United States Consul-General, expressed his intention of conducting the ceremony himself, and requested that a limited number of invitations should be given to persons interested, to accompany him. The Customs’ cruiser ‘Kwashing,’ Captain Anderson, was prepared to convey His Excellency and his guests, and seven a. m. was the hour fixed to commence the trip up the river Hwangpoo. Precisely at that time there were assembled at the Custom House jetty Consul General Myers, Dr. Yates, Dr. Macgowan, Dr. Kreyer; Mr. P. G. von Mollendorff of the German Consulate, the Hon. H. N. Shore, of H. M. S. Lapwing, Captain Ditmar, of the German corvette Louise, Mr. C. Deighton-Braysher and a few others, but the start was not made until about 8.10 in consequence of the non-arrival of the Taotai before that hour. By the time breakfast was over, the vessel had sped considerably beyond the well-known Seven-mile Reach; and presently Ming-hong was sighted, nearly opposite to which is the creek leading to Nai-jow, the scene of the fight in which the French Admiral Protet, to whose memory a statue stands in the compound of the French Municipal Hall, received his death wound. The reaches of the river beyond this place were new to all on board except Mr. Deighton-Braysher, who kindly undertook to pilot the vessel from Ming-hong to the mouth of the Sung Kiang Creek; and he also lightened the tedium of the voyage by pointing out and describing the scenes of greatest interest in connection with the Tai-ping rebellion, this part of the country having been overrun by the rebels. Feck-shung was next reached, opposite to which is the creek up which H. B. M.’s gunboat Stirling was navigated to attack the stronghold known as Yeh-sieh, which she quickly demolished.

“There not being sufficient depth of water in the Sung Kiang creek to float the Kwashing, she was anchored off its mouth, and some Chinese houseboats and a couple of steam launches, provided by the Taotai’s directions, were brought alongside. The passengers being trans-shipped to the houseboats, were soon spinning up the creek, towed by one of the steam launches, the distance to the city of Sung Kiang, from the river, being about four miles. The creek becomes very narrow as the city is neared, and is spanned not far from the walls by one of those light-looking, picturesque stone bridges for the construction of which the Chinese are famous. Here, on both banks, the people had assembled in large numbers, and it soon became evident that the sight of so many foreigners together was a novelty to them, and the Taotai’s bodyguard were useful in clearing a way along the bank to where some dozen or so of sedans with bearers were in waiting for the guests. The Taotai and others having taken their seats, the procession moved off amid the banging of crackers and bombs, and the animated gesticulations of the people, numbers of whom kept up with it to the scene of the day’s ceremony. The way led along a narrow road through the suburbs, skirting the wall of the city, until the gate was reached through which the city was entered. A wide expanse of unoccupied ground had first to be crossed, which before the rebellion was covered with houses. Here and there ruins of houses are still to be seen, but the greater part of the waste is scattered over with grass-grown mounds and heaps of refuse, presenting a dreary aspect. The way next led along the bank of a small creek and past the yamen of some military mandarin, a large and peculiar building, or rather series of buildings, having all the appearance of huge cages, each being enclosed with very lofty rail fencing, and differing in several respects from the architecture of any official residence in the vicinity of Shanghai. Several unpretentious-looking pilaus were also passed enroute, and in the distance, to the right, a lofty pagoda was visible. The Memorial Hall was at length reached, surrounded by a low wall of considerable extent, and entered by a gateway in the usual joss-house style.

“Turning sharply to the right after leaving the gateway, the main building is at once seen to be very similar in construction to the open hall facing the entrance to the Mixed Court in the Maloo. Immediately opposite the open front stands the shrine containing the memorial tablet of the deceased General; blue in colour with the inscription in gold. Facing this are two small square tower-like structures, on which are other inscriptions testifying to the merits of the deceased and stating that the Memorial Hall was erected by Feng Taotai, by Imperial command. Passing round the back of the shrine, a large square space is reached, in the centre of which is the grave-mound beneath which are the deceased’s remains and also the stone that used to mark the site of the grave. The surrounding space is thickly planted with young trees and shrubs.

“At the Hall the Taotai, on alighting from his chair, was met and greeted by the magistrate of the district of Sung Kiang. A number of other officials of lesser grade were present; and numerous soldiers, in addition to the Taotai’s bodyguard thronged the compound. The greetings over, the Taotai led the way to the shrine, and both he and the other dignitaries then donned their official robes. Although it was broad daylight, twelve lighted lamps were suspended from the roof, eight in one row and one at each of the four corners of the shrine. Besides these, there were four large red wax candles burning, and incense sticks smouldering. The ceremony being one of sacrifice there were offered to the manes of the deceased the entire carcass of a goat, a large pig, a small roasted pig, a ham, seven pairs of ducks, pairs of fowls, etc., and about twenty dishes of fruits, confectionery, and vegetables, these being also in pairs.

“The Taotai and the two district magistrates being fully attired, they advanced to the front of the shrine, and in obedience to the direction of a sort of master of the ceremonies the Taotai commenced the oblation by offering several small cups of wine, which were deposited on a shelf in front of the tablet. Then, all three kneeling, the Taotai stretched forth his hand towards the tablet, and offered the food, the mandarins subsequently bowing their heads nine times to the ground. A little music was also played, and the ceremony, which scarcely occupied twenty minutes, was concluded by loud discharges of fireworks and the crash of gongs. It cannot be said to have been impressive, though its novelty and picturesqueness were beyond dispute; but it was interesting from the fact of its being intended to honour the memory of a foreigner, and including precisely the same observance awarded in the case of high Chinese officials.

“At the conclusion of the ceremony, the whole of the food offerings were packed away in boxes, slung on poles, and taken back to the ship, thence to be re-conveyed to the Taotai’s yamen.

“There was no speaking either at the grave or in the Temple, except by Dr. Macgowan, who as a private citizen said a few words to the Taotai in Chinese, apropos of the occasion, and, after three photographic negatives of the scene in and around the Temple had been taken, haste was made for the return trip in order to reach home before dark.

“On the return passage down the creek, the Taotai read from a paper he held in his hand, the following statement, which was translated as he proceeded by Dr. Kreyer: ‘I remember reading the rescript in the Peking Gazette of how the late Emperor regretted General Ward’s death. At that time I was only a Chuyen (recipient of a second-class literary degree), and did not know I should ever be Taotai of Shanghai and live to take part in the dedication of a temple to Ward’s memory. When Ward came to China it was thought in this district that the whole country had been lost to the rebels—that, in fact, it could not be recovered. But owing to the exertions of Ward, the rebels were defeated and the country saved. The cities and places that were captured were Kading, Tai-Tsan, Sung Kiang, Ming-liu-ping, Tien-mashan, Kau Shan, Sian T’ang, Chow-pu, Che-ling, Wang Keasze, Lung-chau—all these being retaken by Ward before Li Hung Chang came on the scene. After Li came into these districts Ward retook Kinshan-wei, Liu Ho, Tsing-pu, and Tsz Kzi. The greatest credit was therefore due to General Ward, as nearly all those places were re-captured by him long before Li Hung Chang came here. The name of General Ward was such a terror that whenever the rebels heard that he was coming they ran away without fighting. General Ward’s idea was to go straight on to Soo-chow, and retake that city; but before going there he marched to Ning Po, and at Tsz Ki, a little town about fifteen miles distant from Ning Po, he was shot by the enemy. His Chinese clothes were changed for foreign ones at Ning Po, where he died, his body being brought to Sung Kiang for burial. The Imperial intention is to build two large temples to his memory—one at Sung Kiang and the other at Tsz Ki, where he received his death wound, and in each of which his statue will be placed. All this is intended to be in accordance with Li Hung Chang’s petition to the Throne, and with the Imperial rescript, issued in the first year of Tsung-chi, 8th moon, 18th day.’ In conclusion, the Taotai said, in answer to a question by Mr. Consul-General Myers, that the sole credit of Shanghai not having been taken by the rebels was due to General Ward. It was also explained that the present small temple at Sung Kiang was only a temporary structure, and would be replaced as soon as possible by a large and permanent one.”

“The two inscriptions on columns at the right and left of the entrance to the shrine have been thus rendered into English:

“A wonderful hero from beyond the seas, the fame of whose deserving loyalty reaches round the world, has sprinkled China with his azure blood.”

“A happy seat among the clouds,” (the ancient name of Sung Kiang means ‘among the clouds’) “and Temples standing for a thousand Springs, make known to all his faithful heart.”

Arthur D. Coulter, an American mining engineer, recently visited the temple and shrine of Frederick Townsend Ward and described the scene as follows:

“Toward the eastern end of the walled city stands one of the most beautiful pagodas to be found anywhere in the Orient. It is perfectly preserved, and overlooks the country for many miles. Passing toward the eastern gate and crossing the mouth of the canal which follows the city wall by an arched bridge—one of those typical stone bridges, finely cut and very old, which span the canal—the way leads toward the military grounds, at the present time occupied by a considerable force of Chinese soldiers, and it is in the vicinity of this fort that Ward’s resting-place is located and where his shrine is built. The place seems to have been fittingly selected by the Chinese to give a military setting to this memorial of their military saviour. A wide path along the bank of the canal leads by the beautiful bamboo groves a distance of about three hundred yards from the walled city to the soldiers’ compound. The temple proper is situated within a hundred feet of the outer walls of the fort. It is built on a plot of ground which has been maintained as an open park. In accordance with the Chinese idea of filial piety a grave must be maintained above ground. In almost all instances among the better classes the receiving vaults are built of brick or stone and covered with tiling, and these are maintained for many years, the obligation being handed down from father to son.

“The temple compound which has been dedicated to Ward stands within four walls built of brick. These walls are about ten feet in height and well preserved. The area is about one hundred feet square. At the main entrance of the compound is built the caretaker’s house. He, with his wife and family, are maintained by the Chinese Government as they have been since the building of the shrine. Immediately after passing through the caretaker’s rooms, one comes into an open courtyard facing the temple proper, which is built across the middle of the hollow square formed by the enclosure walls. Entrance to the temple proper is through three doors, which, when open, leave the shrine or altar exposed to view from the outside. This is in accordance with the prevailing arrangement of temples throughout the Empire.

“The altar stands about ten feet removed from the door which it faces, and is about six feet wide by ten feet high. Across from this altar is a space paved with brick throughout, in a very good state of preservation and well kept. The most important decorations are the tablet and the writing in Chinese which adorn the sides and top of the altar. On the top of the altar may be seen the braziers for the burning of joss and incense by the Taos priests. The attendance upon the temple by the Mandarins and Officials of Mandatories from the Chinese Government has been maintained since the building of the shrine. They are commanded to appear there during each month for worship. Immediately behind is a door leading out to what may be correctly termed the graveyard. This is an open space surrounded on the one side by the walls of the temple and on the other three sides by the walls of the compound already described. In the central background, away from the temple, is located the mound where Ward’s remains were placed. Behind this mound, and on both sides, extending out to the side walls, the ground is covered with a thick growth of young bamboo trees, making a very beautiful setting for the grave.

“The memory of Ward is held sacred to this day by those with whom or with whose fathers he was closely associated. He had endeared himself to the Taotai and the Chinese people principally through his military career and his more personal relations with Shanghai. The full significance of Ward’s martyrdom for the Chinese people has not been forgotten to this day by this class of Chinese.”