A move towards the next town, by name Matao, was made by the Japanese on the 10th, and everything pointed to a stand being made at this place. The naval guns were placed in junks, and also started in the early morning, the rest of the force marching at 4 p.m. The difference in the time of starting is accounted for by the fact that by river the distance to Matao is 30 miles, whereas by land it is only 8 miles. But such is the nature of the country, that it was considered preferable to take the longer route, rather than perform the herculean labour necessary to get the guns on their heavy field carriages overland. Had an action, in which they might have been needed, been imminent, the guns would have got there somehow or other, but in this case nothing of the sort was expected, and the matter resolved itself into one of expediency. At Matao there was practically no stop, and the force pushed on a few miles further to Shan-Matao, being quite unmolested on the march. Here they passed a quiet night, and started at 3.30 a.m. on the 11th, with the intention of occupying Tung-Chow. It was not anticipated that any serious opposition would be met with on the march, but Tung-Chow was a town where there were valuable food-stuffs and other supplies, so that it appeared to be probable that the Chinese might make some attempt at defending it. A few miles before Tung-Chow was reached the cavalry, who were some distance ahead of the infantry, came under a hot fire from a village near the road. The remainder of the troops coming up had no difficulty in turning the enemy out, who were found to be the rear-guard of the main army, and who fled towards Tung-Chow.
The villagers, of whom the great majority were Mahommedans, were loud in their professions of friendliness to the Europeans, and it is quite probable that their display of sentiment was genuine, for not only had the Chinese troops committed all sorts of excesses during their short stay, but the memory of the ruthless severity with which the Mahommedan rebellion of a few years ago was suppressed, doubtless still lingered with them. The Japanese, with extraordinary energy, pushed on without even waiting for a mid-day meal, and pursued the Chinese until within shell fire of the walls of Tung-Chow. They then opened fire from several batteries, and gave the enemy no rest for an hour and a half, when, eliciting no reply, they waited for the rest of the army, who arrived late in the afternoon. Soon after their arrival, the Chinese commenced a totally ineffective fusilade, which they kept up until dark, when everything became quiet.
About one o’clock on the morning of the 12th, the Allies moved forward to the attack, and by three o’clock the Japanese sappers had blown up the south gate. An hour later, the whole force marched into the town, not having had a shot fired at them since nine o’clock. The previous evening’s firing had evidently been a blind, for the enemy had fled towards Pekin before the attack commenced. The 12th was spent in rest, and, as was only to be expected, when the troops found themselves with nothing to do in a captured town, a little looting was done. It took, however, the mildest form, because it was impossible to carry anything more than articles of absolute necessity, or valuables of the lightest description, and, as most of these articles had already been stolen by the Chinese soldiers, there was nothing much left to take. A great part of the morning was taken up by transferring all the stores, which had come up by water, to various kinds of vehicles, for it was no longer possible to rely on the river as a means of transport. On the night of the 12th, a reconnaissance was made towards Pekin by a battalion of infantry and most of the cavalry, who found that all the enemy had retired within the gates, and that the country to the capital was clear; so it was decided to move on without delay.
The final march commenced the morning of the 13th, and by the afternoon the whole army was drawn up within 3 miles of the city walls. An amusing incident occurred on this day:—
It appears that half a company of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers had lost their bearings the night before, and after some wandering about, had arrived in sight of Pekin itself. Being somewhat weary, they calmly bivouacked and waited for the Army, by whom they were found safe and undisturbed some hours afterwards. Now at last had arrived the night before the Army’s great effort. It found 12,000 tired and thirsty men outside Pekin, not one of whom but felt confident that his next Bivouac would be inside the walls. How they and their Generals managed to assure this is worthy of another chapter.
CHAPTER XII
CAPTURE OF PEKIN AND RELIEF OF LEGATIONS
The Allied Generals met for the last time on the afternoon of the 13th to make their final dispositions. It was agreed that the Russians should take the right, the Japanese the centre, and the British and Americans the left. This arrangement came as a surprise to the British, for knowing the intense eagerness of the Russians to be the first into the city, it was supposed that they would have chosen the weakest spot in the defences for their point of attack, whereas it was generally considered that the position they had taken up would certainly bring them in front of the most severe opposition. It was suggested in some quarters that they had argued that behind the strongest walls would be the smaller force, and vice versa, so that they might hope to overpower the enemy first, and then force an entrance, whilst the rest of the force would be unable to do either one or the other. We shall see how they fared. In the evening each force sent out reconnoitring parties towards the walls, that of the Russians being exceptionally large, and including guns. These (the Russians) pushed forward so far without being discovered, that what was intended for a reconnaissance, at length became an attack of an unusually gallant and daring character.
After a brisk bombardment at short range, the Tung-Pien gate was forced, and the comparatively smaller body of Russians found themselves the first troops to enter the Chinese city. Their position was by no means secure,—in fact, unless supported at daylight they would be compelled to retire with the loss of their guns, but it was determined to maintain their foothold till the morning, when it was hoped that the main body would arrive. Daylight came, and with it a tremendous fusilade from the enemy which caused many casualties, but the Russian commander hung on with splendid tenacity, and finally welcomed large American reinforcements. During this important episode, the Chinese made a sortie in some force from their centre, which was beaten back by the Japanese, who, disturbed at their bivouac, decided to push straight on to the walls. At Pekin, as elsewhere, the little “Japs” managed to get into the thick of whatever fighting happened to be going on, and during the day they were heavily engaged along their whole front. Their persistence did not have its reward until 8 p.m., when their Sappers blew up two gates, and thus they won their way in. Thanks to the precipitancy of the Russian right, the British entered the Shan-huo gate almost unopposed. The Chinese had mistaken the Russian advance guard for the main attack, and had practically deserted their right to cope with it. The British took immediate advantage of this, and forced their way right through to the Tartar walls. Heavy fighting was here expected, but no Chinese troops were in the vicinity, and a signal was got through to General Gaselee to march up the Sluice—a waterway with an aperture through the walls—which was done.
Their advance was unimpeded except by snipers, and at about 2 p.m. a handful of 1st Sikhs and 7th Rajputs broke their way through the rotten Water-gate, and rushed to the Legations, which were but a few hundred yards away. Great as was the excitement then, it became even greater when General Gaselee, his Staff (among whom was a Naval officer), and men from the 24th Punjab Infantry, 1st Sikhs, and Bengal Lancers, rode up and greeted the Legation folk whom they had done so much to relieve. The Legations had been reached, but it must not be supposed that nothing remained to be done. The Chinese were still resisting the entry of the other forces, and had as yet shown no intention of leaving the British and Americans in undisturbed possession of the various gates, portions of the various walls, and other defences which they had occupied. Before, however, relating how the complete occupation of this wonderful four-in-one City came about, there are some impressions to be placed on record, about the looks and feelings of relievers and relieved in the Legations. Naturally enough the first wave of enthusiasm was unreserved—people wept for joy, laughed for the same reason, members of the relieving force were kissed and petted—in fact exactly the same thing happened as always has, and always will happen, at the successful termination of an Historical Siege. As usual, too, the relievers were astonished at the clean, almost immaculate appearance of many of the women and several of the men. The contrast was certainly extraordinary; on the one hand a gathering of people who looked at first sight as if they had been picnicing, instead of having borne parts in a long and dangerous Siege. On the other a body of men ragged, dirty, and unshorn, who by their appearance could not possibly have been doing anything else for the last ten days but march and fight. It was not until one looked closer that it was possible to realise that these comparatively spotless men and women were tired and worn, and that their white faces and wan looks proved that they had been through as much and more than their ragged but healthy-looking relievers, whose worst enemy had been the sun, and who perhaps could have marched the same distance and fought the same battles straight over again. There were not many among the besieged who could have stood the strain of the Siege over again and lived! Their appearance gave rise to ridiculous, fictitious, and wicked suggestions. One often heard it questioned whether they had such a bad time after all, or, as one man put it,—“Plenty to drink, enough to eat, lots of games, and some first-class shooting! Where’s the hardship? In fact, what more does one possibly want?” Other people go to the opposite extreme, and thank Providence that a general Massacre did not come off. The only explanation that suggests itself is this. The Empress doubtless aimed at the death of the Europeans in the Capital, including of course the Ministers; but she also knew that, were it proved that she or her troops had had a direct hand in the matter, the revenge that would be taken by the powers would be so awful that the game was not worth the candle. How then was the matter to be accomplished? Well, she had already pleaded incapability to keep the Boxers in hand, therefore, if they could burn or destroy the Legations and their occupants, she would help them at a distance with her troops and their rifles and artillery. Then it could not be said that her soldiers had actually slain the Ministers—in fact she could prove that it was by her orders that eggs and vegetables were taken to them, almost nightly, for a fortnight. It may be said that Imperial troops did actually attempt to storm the defences. Granted: but in such a way that whilst any loss on the part of the defence constituted a great weakness, and therefore, by making these attacks they made the task of the Boxers easier and easier, they did not attempt to push their effort right home; or, from what I have been told by one of the Officers engaged in the defence, they must have inevitably succeeded. Why then did the Boxers not succeed? Because there are limits to human endurance: a bullet in the right place is one of them. In other words, because a badly organised and badly armed mob can never hope to close with a highly disciplined, steady, and well-armed body of men a tenth of their own size.