Regularly at daylight every morning the enemy would commence their attack upon Kew-fu-chew, and the smaller forts above the Sz-wang's position. Their plan of battle was well formed and very picturesque in appearance; successive squadrons of gunboats would sail down and engage the fort, delivering their fire; and then, filling away before a fair wind, returning to their position up the river. These vessels were assisted by others co-operating from below the Ti-ping lines; all being profusely decorated with gaudy flags, and propelled by numerous oars on either side.
The whole scene of battle formed a never-to-be-forgotten spectacle. The gallant appearance of the innumerable gunboats tacking down stream, and opening fire, one after the other, in regular order; some crossing in every direction, and others running back dead before the wind, with their broad and prettily-cut lateen sails stretching out on either side like a pair of snowy wings; the incessant roar of the cannonade; the flash of the guns; the curling smoke, at first dense and impenetrable, and then dissolving into thin wreaths, gracefully circling round the rigging and the white sails; the steady reply from the flag-covered forts, now enveloped in clouds of sulphurous vapour, anon standing forth clear and sharply defined against the dark background formed by the waving bamboo; the peaceful current of the noble Yang-tze river—here narrowed to a point less than 1,800 yards across, though stretching far and wide immediately beyond on either side; the grim embattled walls of Nankin, towering over the plain a few miles distant; mountains of fantastic shape on every side—some near, impending and majestic; others, cloud-capped and dimly visible in the distance; the cheer and cry of battle mingling with the echo of artillery—all combined, produced an effect truly grand and imposing.
At last the garrison of Kew-fu-chew reported that the leading columns of the Chung-wang's army were in sight; upon which further reinforcements were instantly thrown into all the forts, while every boat was made ready for the purpose of transporting the approaching troops across the river. Even when they had arrived within sight of their capital, the sufferings of the unfortunate people were not completed until they had endured much more loss by the assaults of the enemy. Upon the arrival of the famished and emaciated troops at the brink of the river, they were saluted with one continuous cannonade from the gunboats that now found ample opportunities of slaughtering them as they crowded the bank for a distance of nearly two miles. With incredible fortitude they maintained their position, and did not flinch backward by the least perceptible movement; and, in the face of the terrible fire poured into their dense masses at point-blank range (mostly from English guns), proceeded to the work of embarkation as steadily as their weakened condition would permit.
Directly the first detachment appeared on the beach, I sailed over to help them with all my vessels, and getting a dozen Europeans on board the lorcha, worked her against the enemy with considerable effect. The fearful sights that met my gaze upon every part of the shore I shall never forget. Very many of the weakest men, totally unable to assist themselves further, were left to die within sight of the goal for which they had striven so hard and suffered so greatly, their number being so large that their comrades were not sufficient to help, or get them over the river in the presence of the enemy. The horrible "thud" of the cannon shot crashing continuously among the living skeletons, so densely packed at places that they were swept off by the river, into which they were forced by the pressure from behind; the perfect immobility with which they confronted the death hurled upon them from more than a thousand gunboats; and the slow effort the exhausted survivors made to extricate themselves from the mangled bodies of their stricken comrades, were scenes awful to contemplate. It was dreadful to watch day after day during the time occupied in getting the remnant of that once splendid army across the river, with but little means to succour them, the lanes cut through the helpless multitude on the beach by the merciless fire of the enemy; all so passively endured. The gaunt, starved forms, and wild staring eyes of those who had laid themselves down to die, haunted me for many a future night.
Frequently during the passage of the river, some small boat, with its scarcely living freight, would be drifted away from the protection of the Nankin batteries by the strength of the tide, the overcrowded boat being too heavily laden to be moved quickly enough by the weakened arms of the rowers. Whenever such an event took place, the mandarin boats would dart upon their defenceless prey, and immediately chop off the heads of all on board in the most brutal manner, throwing the bodies of the victims into the river within sight of their comrades, who were totally unable to assist them. In these cases the poor fellows struggled and fought against their murderers with the energy of despair, as desperately as their enfeebled condition would permit; but this was of little avail, for nearly all their fire-arms were rendered useless, the powder being saturated with water, while they were far too weak to wield other weapons effectively.
I received the Chung-wang on board my vessel, and carried him to the Nankin side, when he had seen the greater part of his surviving troops safely across the river. My comrade, L——, was with him, also the Sardinian officer of the late Ling-ho's regiment; but I never saw my brave lieutenant, Phillip Bosse, again: he had fallen at the head of the Chung-wang's guards, while gallantly protecting the retreat of the main body.
Upon the twelfth day all who could be saved were across the Yang-tze, and under the friendly shadow of the Nankin walls, whilst, on the other side of the river, none remained but the garrison of the fort and the numerous bodies of those who had perished of hunger or had been slaughtered by the enemy. At last all seemed laid in the sleep of death, until some poor wretch would suddenly crawl to the brink of the desired water, and then fall into the swift current either to quench his burning thirst or terminate his agony.
Even now the bleached skeletons of many thousands of these unfortunate victims to British intervention may be seen in the positions in which they fell, waiting for the hand of decay to obliterate the last sad trace of their existence.
The Chung-wang's army had formed the best and bravest part of the whole Ti-ping forces; in fact, his troops were the élite of the whole military organization, being principally composed of veterans who had joined the cause from its infancy, and to whom defeat was really unknown. A great proportion of the original nucleus of the revolution was included in its ranks, consisting of the men from Kwang-tung, Kwang-si, and the Miau-tze, who, inspired with the religious enthusiasm so conducive to the wonderful success which attended the earlier stages of the Ti-ping movement, and imbued with that spirit of chivalry which defied all obstacles, dreaded no dangers, and endured cruel torture, became the true champions of the great religious and political Chinese revolution. Unless Christendom chooses to deny the theory that Asia is to be Christianized by a process similar to the manner in which it was itself converted from Heathenism, it is impossible to dispute the fact that Hung-sui-tshuen and his followers have commenced a work that shall never perish nor be forgotten. The very fact that the leaders of the Ti-ping movement, from the first day of its existence, forced their tenets upon the sage contempt of the literati, the general repugnance of the people, and the well-known hatred of the innumerable Manchoo employés, proves most convincingly that it was a holy element which animated those chiefs and their followers, and which induced them to forsake the theories of their ancient and deeply venerated sages, to rely upon the help and attributes of an Eternal Judge.
Unfortunately, by the disastrous retreat to Nankin, the Ti-pings lost the greater proportion of those adherents whose religious fervour has induced me to compare them to the heroes and champions of the early Christian Church. There are doubtless those who, from their self-erected pinnacle of righteousness, will prove sceptics as to the reality of Ti-ping Christianity; but I trust all who have had the patience to accompany me through this history will consider that point effectually proved in favour of the revolutionists.