“Then it is time it was buried,” said the major, promptly. “I’ll never pun on your name again.” And he never did.
All the soldiers were anxious for news from shore; and this was not long in coming, in the shape of newspapers, letters, and cablegrams.
“General Chaffee has left San Francisco with the first American troops for China, on the transport Grant,” said one of the captains, spreading the news. “He is coming direct to Nagasaki; and he will be followed by four or five thousand other men, from Cuba, New York, and elsewhere.”
The Grant carried the Sixth United States Cavalry, eight hundred strong, and about three hundred sailors and marines.
The news from the front was most conflicting. Admiral Seymour, in command of the expedition which had gone to the relief of Pekin, was rumored to be somewhere beyond Tien-Tsin, and surrounded by the enemy. The foreign quarter of Tien-Tsin had been bombarded by the Boxers and Chinese government troops for over a week after the taking of the Taku forts, and the sufferings of the Americans and others had been almost beyond belief. During the bombardment, women and children had been shut up in Gordon Hall, and shot and shell had rained down on all sides. At this time there was an American circus in the city; and the men of the show took up rifles, buckled on cartridge belts, and went to the walls with the few troops in the place, to hold the enemy in check.
The relief of Tien-Tsin was largely due to the efforts of one man to get word of what was going on to the allied powers having warships and soldiers in the Gulf of Pechili. When the bombardment of the foreign quarter of the city was at its height, nine men from the various legations took a boat and started for Taku for help. This boat was attacked by the Chinese; and those in it had to run the craft ashore and take to the bushes and woods, in order to escape with their lives.
In Tien-Tsin it was rumored that the nine men had been killed, and that it would prove certain death to anybody undertaking to get through the Chinese lines. Yet the task was undertaken by James Watts, a youth of twenty-two, the son of a Taku pilot.
“I’ll get through, if it costs me everything but my life,” said young Watts. “I’ve outwitted the Chinks before, and I can do it again.” He left Tien-Tsin at nightfall on the swiftest horse the city possessed.
The ride was one long to be remembered; for it covered a distance of forty to forty-five miles, through a territory thick with Boxers and other Chinese, all anxious to take his life at sight. He left the city with caution, but, once on the outskirts, rode with a dash and daring that overcame many of the enemy with fright and surprise. Shots innumerable were fired at him; but only one struck him, in the arm. He was stopped six times, but in each instance literally rode over those who sought to capture him.
When he arrived at Taku, he was ready to drop from exhaustion. But, without waiting to obtain even necessary refreshments, he secured a row-boat, and had some sailors take him out to the flagship of Admiral Kempff of the United States Navy, to whom he told his story in detail.