“Something is up to-day, sure,” remarked Captain Banner to Gilbert. “The Chinese are enfilading our twelve-pounders, and the British gunners can’t hold their position unless relief is given.”
“I see that our marines are getting ready to move,” replied the young lieutenant. “I wish we were going with them. I am tired of doing nothing but guard duty.”
“Don’t fret. We have still plenty of fighting before us,” was the captain’s reassuring answer.
Early that morning a detachment of the Allies, including a hundred American marines, with two thousand Japanese, English, and Russians, marched to the Taku gate of the outer city, and then down the bank of the Pei-Ho. They soon came in sight of the Chinese force on the plain; and a battle at long range started, lasting for several hours. Gradually the Chinese were forced around to the West Arsenal, and then they fled. They were pursued by the cavalry; and a party of six hundred Boxers were cut to pieces almost to a man, the Japanese horsemen riding over them rough-shod. In this fight the arsenal was captured, also four field-pieces, and over a score of Chinese banners, including the dreaded head-spear flag of the Boxers. A head-spear flag is one of black, mounted on a bamboo pole, topped with a human skull.
Gilbert’s company was stationed close to the river still, and was under more or less fire all the time. The pickets often indulged in “sniping,” as it is termed; and many a Boxer who exposed himself was laid low most unexpectedly. But the Chinese also did some sharpshooting; and the soldiers soon found it expedient to keep out of sight of the enemy, even at long range.
The weather was most disagreeable. When it was not raining, the sun shone down with the fury of a fiery furnace; and, during the middle of the day, working at anything was out of the question for all but the Japanese, who never seemed to mind the heat in the least. What these little men from the Mikado’s domain could do and endure was a constant source of wonder and astonishment to the rest of the Allies. “They are the backbone of this whole movement,” said Gilbert; and Major Morris agreed with him.
“They used to jeer at the Japanese, just as they jeer at the Chinese,” said the major. “But Mr. Jap is all there every time.”
It was not until several days later that Gilbert managed to get away, in order to call again upon Amos Bartlett and his family. He had heard of a serious fire in that neighborhood, and wondered if it had reached the tea-merchant’s residence.
He found the house untouched, although in much disorder, with the wreck of the back porch and the fallen tree still littering the enclosed garden. The fire had found the huge warehouse; and a back addition had been consumed, while the contents of the main building had suffered much from smoke and water.
“I am glad to see you, lieutenant,” said Mrs. Bartlett, as she shook him by the hand. “You said you would do what you could for us, and now I wish you to do me a favor.”