The lines had been greatly enlarged since the fall of the City, and included all the space enclosed by the mud wall, which encircled the native City as well as the settlements, and which was held by Japanese at several points on the right bank of the river—notably at the Taku gate and the Hi-Kuan-Su arsenal. The suburbs on the other bank were held by the Russians, who also occupied the flanking forts to the north-westward, as far as, and including, the Hsi-Ku arsenal.
Down at Taku the utmost activity prevailed. The 6th U.S. cavalry disembarked and proceeded to Tientsin, but were not able to join in the advance, owing to the condition of their horses; the Italian Bersaglieri also landed, and shortly arrived in Tientsin. They looked workmanlike and smart, and their rate of marching was really astonishing.
Another thing which occupied a good deal of attention at Taku was the completing of two 4-in. Q.F. guns on improved carriages of Captain Percy Scott’s original design. These eventually turned up too late, and although they were sent to the front, they were never brought into action.
News was received from the front by field telegraph, but a more certain way was getting it first-hand from the midshipman in charge of the “Barfleur’s” steam Pinnace, who had orders to keep touch with the army, to bring back sick and wounded, and to keep the river clear for the peaceable passage of junks. This involved plenty of hard work, during which one young officer got a bad touch of sunstroke and was sent to hospital; but another took his place, and the excitement and responsibility served to make hard work seem very pleasant.
For the benefit of those readers who, not understanding what a “manned and armed” boat is, and who might reasonably be inclined to think that an unarmed boat would be useless and even dangerous, it must be explained that the boat carried a 3-pr. Q.F. gun in the bows and a Maxim in the stern, which would have enabled her to hold off any inconsiderable parties of the enemy who might be met with.
As bad luck would have it, the boat drew too much water for the upper reaches of the river, so that it was impossible to go much above Yangtsun; she was also very slow, and when no longer able to communicate with the army, the need of her services soon ceased.
One incident occurred at this time which showed the true feeling of some of the Foreign troops towards the British. Just above the English settlement was a pontoon bridge, guarded and worked by a French picket, who were always extremely obstinate about opening it after dark. One night the steam pinnace came down from Yangtsun about one o’clock, with, as usual, several sick and wounded on board; and on hailing the picket and asking that the bridge might be opened, the officer met with a flat refusal. He replied that it was a case of necessity, as there were men who might die for want of assistance on board; but a corporal replied: “Oh yes, you’ve always got wounded, haven’t you?” Rather angry, the English officer replied that he would report him to his superior officer in the morning, whereupon he was told that he better go and do it himself, and that he might stay on the other side of the bridge all night unless he opened it himself. This he attempted to do, but the heavy planks, which had to be drawn from side to side, proved to be too much for him and the two men, which were all that could be allowed out of the boat. At last he demanded that if assistance was not forthcoming in two minutes’ time he would destroy the bridge by throwing the planks into the river, which would have to be replaced in the morning. Beyond oaths and gesticulations, no reply was vouchsafed from the other bank, so, at the expiration of two minutes, over went number one plank after a great struggle. Terrific gesticulations and fearful oaths, followed by another refusal to the demand for assistance, led to the disappearance of plank number two, leaving only number three. This appeared to sober the corporal somewhat, and he, with four men, crossed the remaining plank and dragged it over, leaving just room for the boat. Of course the officer and bluejackets embarked, and told the Frenchmen to get to their side of the river over the boat; but this led to such a storm of abuse from them, who had evidently imagined that the British in their turn were going to replace the plank, that the watch was again requisitioned, and, at the expiration of the same interval of time, the boat went ahead, leaving two of the five in safety, two in the water, and one cursing on the wrong side of the river. Representations were made to the proper authorities next day, and not only was a new bridge, capable of more easy manipulation, built, but on subsequent passages the officer of the boat met with nothing but civility.
A similar unpleasantness occurred to the first midshipman of the boat—only on this occasion it was with the Russians, and diplomacy, instead of high-handed dealing, in this case gained the day. The same argument about right-of-way began one day, and it was not until several hours had been wasted that the boat was allowed to pass. Determined that this sort of thing should not happen again, the midshipman, on his next arrival at Tientsin, obtained an imposing-looking blue envelope, and having filled it with bulky papers, wrote the Russian General’s name on it. Once more there was the same difficulty, but after a lot of trouble the soldiers on guard brought an officer who talked just enough English to understand what the envelope purported to be. He was immediately all politeness, and begged that he might have the supposed despatches, which he would forward immediately; but, as they were not despatches at all—and even if they had been, the officer might have forgotten to open the bridge after all—the midshipman, while thanking him for his kindness, begged him not to press the point, as he had had the strictest orders not to let them out of sight until safely delivered. The bridge swung open, the boat passed through, and so most probably did the “despatches,” which were flung into the river when out of sight.
Three or four days after the army’s departure, the most extravagant stories went round that 40,000 Boxers with guns were coming to attack the settlement in a day or two. But few people believed this effort of some one’s diseased imagination. It must be owned, however, that another exodus of natives took place, many of whom were notably faithful to their European masters, and who had in the past risked much for their sake. At any rate, so persistent did the rumours become, that it was decided to send a reconnaissance out to the south-westward to gain some idea of their truth. Accordingly, a force of cavalry—chiefly Americans, but partly Indian—was sent out to discover what truth there might be in the matter.
They rode for seven miles without seeing any enemy, but, on approaching some villages at this distance, a heavy fire was opened on them from Rifles and Jingals, and it became certain that the villages were held in force.