Tientsin again Peaceful.
[page 112.
CHAPTER VI
THE RELIEF OF SEYMOUR
The remainder of that day, and the whole of the next, were spent in complete rest. After the events of the last week, it seemed difficult to realise that anything out of the ordinary was afoot. There was no shelling, no attack on the outposts—in fact nothing but the everlasting sniping during the hours of darkness, which merely ensured the watchfulness of the sentries. Women were again seen about the streets, and a few little children walked about with the air of supreme indifference to their strange surroundings. Every one knew that this was only a lull before the storm of the bombardment, and another siege; but it was felt that the worst was over, and that the Chinese blockade would never again be as effective as heretofore. Relievers and relieved met and exchanged experiences at the bar of the German club, which was still open, and of which all officers became honorary members. Dinner parties were given by the lucky ones whose stores of tinned luxuries had not already vanished, it being rightly held that it was well to make the most of the impromptu truce, which existed only that the Chinese might collect enough morale to again assume the offensive. In the evening the “Terrible” 12-pr. came in, escorted by a small body of the Hong-Kong regiment, who arrived at the relieving force’s last camp only a few hours after the commencement of the advance. This regiment is composed almost entirely of Pathans, who were enlisted in India for service at Hong-Kong. Their arrival at this stage of the operations enabled them to claim to be the first Indian troops on the spot; but as a matter of fact there were twelve Sikh policemen in Tientsin, who all volunteered for military service, and took part in the recent defence.
On the 24th June a native runner got through from the Commander-in-Chief, and his news was to the effect that the Admiral was in Hsi-Ku arsenal, hard pressed, and with many wounded. He requested a force of 2000 men to extricate him. This message was more cheering than many had dared to hope for. Nearly every one had given the Admiral’s party up for lost, the best that they had hoped for being that he might be shut up in Pekin with his force, and in all probability be undergoing the same kind of mental anxiety that had lately befallen themselves. However, Hsi-Ku was only six miles away, and it was believed to be a defensive position of great strength. A force of the required strength was immediately raised and organised, it was composed as follows: Russians 1000, with three Maxims and two guns; British 600, with two Maxims; and 300 Americans, Germans, Japanese, and Italians, making the total within a hundred of 2000. Colonel Shirinsky, a Russian officer of some distinction, was in command of the whole force, and he decided that the various contingents should rendezvous at his camp at midnight, intending to make a night march and attack the enemy, who were expected to offer a stern opposition at dawn. In the evening the 12-pr. and a 6-pr. shelled the western arsenal, known as the Hi-Kuan-Su, and set it on fire, several unimportant explosions taking place in consequence of the proximity of houses containing ammunition. The departure of the column took place from the town hall at 11.15 p.m., and was quite affecting, the British moving off first, amid feminine cheers and cries of “Good luck,” “Mind you bring him back,” closely followed by the Americans.
Some difficulty was experienced in crossing the river, for the bridge, which the Russians had promised to have ready, was not nearly finished, and it proved to be a risky business getting over the half planked-in junks in the darkness. Another delay was caused on the other side by the stupidity and carelessness of the guide, who lost his way at the very beginning of the march, and took some time to correct his mistake. However, the rendezvous was reached about 1 a.m., and fortunately the Russians had themselves only just taken up their positions. From their camp the rays of the gunboats’ searchlights were plainly visible in the mouth of the river thirty miles away, and a bluejacket remarked laughing, that it showed fellow-feeling “for them chaps to try and light us on our way.” In a quarter of an hour the combined force moved forward, and for about a mile and a half skirted the mud wall, when they turned off into the country in the supposed direction of the bridge over the Lutai Canal. After marching in this direction for some time without finding it, it became evident something was wrong, so a halt was called, and the Russian colonel sent out a reconnaissance party to ascertain its whereabouts. It turned out that it had been passed unnoticed on the left flank, and was about half a mile in rear of the force, so the men had to retrace their steps. But on reaching it, it was found to have been made almost impassable for infantry, and it was soon evident that the Russian guns would have to remain behind; in fact there were grave doubts about the practicability of getting even the Maxims over. Search parties immediately moved up and down the canal banks, and returned with two sampans, which solved the difficulty of the men’s passage, and it was found that the two together were capable of transporting the Maxims also. The Russian sappers, too, helped to replace planks and sleepers on the wrecked iron frames of the bridge itself, and the passage did not occupy more than an hour altogether. It was not, however, effected quite peaceably, for the force was spotted by two of the little land forts near the river, about two miles away, and these promptly opened fire on the bridge with four guns. Their shooting, however, was high, and the shrapnel were bursting in a cemetery to the rear. If the Chinese had known this they would have probably ceased firing, as the spirits of their ancestors are nearly sacred to them. As it was, such ancestral spirits as were in that cemetery must have rested uneasily that morning, and bemoaned their fate at this unlooked for visitation of the “great north wind,” or some other similar fantasy.
An interesting incident happened when the crossing was about half finished. The torpedo lieutenant of H.M.S. “Endymion” rode towards the forts to find out if possible something about the strength and position of the enemy, when suddenly some twenty Chinamen fired at him from behind cover at a distance of not more than 30 yards. Their nerves, however, must have been in a wretched condition, for he was not even touched, and the only thing for him to do seemed to be to ride straight at them, which he did, whereupon they straightway bolted, leaving one man a prisoner in his hands.