On the morning of the 26th July I left for Bac-Ninh with the weekly convoy to Hanoï which carried the mails. We passed through Dap-Cau at noon, and arrived at our destination at 2 p.m. The country we traversed was a big cultivated plain, dotted with villages, with here and there occasional small groups of low hills.
At Bac-Ninh there is a small citadel, built, no doubt, towards the end of the eighteenth century by one of the engineers lent by Louis XVI. to his ally, the Emperor of Annam. It is hexagonal in shape, and constructed according to the principles of Vauban. Each of its sides has a frontage of about 1000 yards, and is furnished with numerous flanking bastions and demi-lunes. There was a company of marines, a battalion of the 3rd Regiment of Tirailleurs Tonkinois, and about a thousand militia in garrison there. Inside the citadel were the houses of the General Commanding the 2nd Brigade, the Resident of the province, the officers' quarters, the barracks of the troops, the Staff offices, and the lodgings of the soldier-secretary.
On my arrival I reported to the Brigade Major, Captain Michaud, who sent me on with an orderly to the Intelligence Department, where I was to be employed.
The chief of this office, Lieutenant Cassier, received me very kindly; and, after telling one of the secretaries, a marine, to go and show me where our lodgings were situated, he informed me that I might rest that afternoon, and come to work the next morning.
I found that I was quartered, together with the other scribes—five privates and two corporals—in a one-roomed brick building with a verandah in front, which was situated at the end of the General's garden, and looked out into the parade ground of the native infantry. On the other side of this open space, about 300 yards away, were the buildings occupied by the French marines.
I washed, disposed my kit above the cot which I noted was of the comfortable pattern in use in Algeria, and went for a stroll into the town, about a couple of hundred yards outside the fortifications, for I desired to reconnoitre the surroundings before dinner, which I had been informed was at 6 p.m.
The little town of Bac-Ninh is situated on the old mandarin road from Hanoï (the capital of Tonquin) to Lang-son and the Chinese frontier, about 18 miles from the metropolis. It contains a population of eight thousand natives, is the capital of the province of the same name, and has a cathedral, seat of the Spanish bishopric of eastern Tonquin. Though it is not a manufacturing centre of any importance, its only local production being silk embroidery work—for which, however, it is famous—it is considered as one of the principal commercial towns of the colony, because its markets are a medium of barter or exchange for objects imported from the surrounding provinces and also from China, through the frontier towns of Lang-son and Cao-Bang. I wandered through the narrow streets for an hour or so, and was delighted with the life and bustle of the little town. It was market day, and the busy throngs jostled one another as they passed to and fro. The natives are noisy individuals, and their shrill cries as they hawked their wares or wrangled over the price of some article for household use—a basket of rice, yams, or some other comestible—were perfectly bewildering at first to me; for I had become so used to the silence of the empty plains and the jungle-covered hills, that even the tiny stir of this overgrown village produced an impression akin to what an inhabitant of Exmoor might feel were he suddenly transported to the busiest centre of London.
I got back in good time to the citadel, for I was anxious not to commit so serious a breach of etiquette as to make my new comrades await dinner for me.
I received a hearty welcome from them all, though only one of them, a lance-corporal, who was working in the general office, belonged to the Legion: he came from the 2nd Regiment. We sat down to our meal in a small building close to the offices of the Brigade; and the fare, which was better than I had been used to at Nha-Nam, and the unexpected luxuries of china plates, real glasses, a table covered with white oil-cloth and a punkah, were more than sufficient to reconcile me to my new surroundings. Owing to the extra pay we drew—about one and sixpence a day—it was not only possible to keep up a good mess, but, besides the cook, we were able to maintain a boy, at four piastres a month—about eight shillings—and this faithful servitor swept out our quarters, made the beds, cleaned our boots, pipe-clayed our helmets, and performed a hundred and one other services, which I had become so used to doing for myself that it was several days before I could become accustomed to leave the work to him, much to the amusement of the other secretaries.