At length we reach the mouth of the Samchun River, a small tidal stream, which, when the sea is low, is scarcely eighteen inches deep. Up between its winding banks we steam. High hills rise up on each side. We pray that neither rebel nor hostile Imperial soldier is waiting here to stop our coming; for a machine‐gun or a few rifles would play havoc with our men crowded together on the little launches. Up the river we go in single file, playing “follow my leader” as the first launch swings sharply round the frequent curves. By virtue of my position “on the Staff,” I am aboard it and am consequently resentful when a bump and a prolonged scraping under the keel tell us that we have gone aground. The next launch avoids the shoal and passes us, its occupants flinging sarcastic remarks and unkind jibes at us as they go by. But “pride cometh before a fall,” and a little farther on their Chinese steersman runs them high and dry. Then the others leave us behind until by dint of poling we float again and follow in their wake. Round a bend in the river we swing; and ahead of us we see a number of weird‐looking Chinese war‐junks. From their masts stream huge pennants and gaudy flags of many colours; on their decks stand old muzzle‐loading, smooth‐bore cannon. Their high, square sterns tower above the banks. The motley‐garbed crews are squatting about, engaged with chop‐sticks and bowls of rice. The sudden appearance of our flotilla crowded with armed men startles them. They drop their food and spring up to stare at us, uncertain whether to bolt ashore or continue their interrupted meal. Seeing no signs of hostility on our part, they grin placatingly and shout remarks to us, the tenor of which it is perhaps as well that we do not understand. These are Government war‐junks and, like the Customs steamer outside, are stationed here to prevent assistance reaching the rebels from the sea; but anyone who had successfully forced their way past the gunboat would have little to fear from these ill‐armed Noah’s Arks. Close by stand a few substantial buildings—a Customs station. From the verandah of a bungalow two white men in charge of it watch us as we go by.
As evening was closing in we reached the spot selected for our first camping‐ground and disembarked. On our side of the river a few hundred yards of level ground ran back to the steep, bare slopes of a straggling hill which rose to a conical peak five hundred feet above our heads. All around lay similar eminences, their grassy sides devoid of trees. Behind us the Hinterland stretched away to the south in range after range of barren mountains divided by narrow, cultivated valleys. Beyond the river lay a plain patched with paddy‐fields or broken by an occasional low hill. In it, little more than a mile away, stood the walled town of Samchun. The British and Indian police in the new territory had been instructed to give us intelligence of any hostile movements in the neighbourhood; and from them we learned that no immediate danger was to be apprehended. Nevertheless all precautionary measures to guard against a possible surprise were taken; for Admiral Ho’s troops still lingered in Samchun, and considerable doubt existed as to their attitude towards the British. Piquets having been posted and a strong guard placed over the ammunition and supplies, the men cooked their evening meal and bivouacked for the night. But sleep was almost impossible. The heat was intense. We had evidently intruded upon a favourite haunt of the mosquitoes who attacked us with malignant persistence until dawn.
The following day was employed in strengthening our position, reconnoitring our surroundings and laying out our camp. Our arrival had evidently taken the Chinese army across the river completely by surprise. From the hill, on which our tents stood, Samchun was plainly visible about 2,000 yards away; and our field‐glasses showed a great commotion in the town. Soldiers poured out of the gates or crowded on to the walls and gazed in consternation—apparent even at that distance—at the British force that had so suddenly put in an appearance on the scene. They were evidently extremely dubious as to our intentions; and we watched the troops falling in hurriedly and being marshalled under an imposing array of banners. When the Hinterland had been ceded to us, Samchun had at first been included, and was for a short time occupied by us; but the boundary was afterwards fixed at the river as being a natural frontier, and the town was restored to the Chinese. They apparently feared that we had changed our minds and contemplated appropriating it again. As our column made no move—for our orders had been not to enter Chinese territory or take any hostile action unless attacked—they soon disappeared into the town again. Later on, on a hill that rose close to the river on their side of the boundary‐line, a regiment appeared and observed us narrowly all day, endeavouring to keep out of sight themselves as much as possible. It was very tantalising to see the materials for a pretty little fight ready to hand being wasted, and we longed for the smallest hostile act on their part to give us an excuse for one. But none came; and we sighed discontentedly at the loss of such a golden opportunity. Although the Chinese force numbered 4,000, armed with guns, Mausers and Winchesters, and our column counted barely 400 all told, we felt little doubt as to the result of a fight between us.
By the following morning Admiral Ho and his mandarins had evidently come to the conclusion that we were more dangerous neighbours than the rebels; so he proceeded to move off from our vicinity. All that day and the next we watched bodies of troops, clad in long red or blue coats, with enormous straw hats slung like shields on their backs or covering their heads like giant mushrooms, marching out of the town and stringing out into single file along the narrow paths between the paddy‐fields as they moved off into the mountains beyond Samchun. Above their heads waved innumerable banners—green, red, blue, parti‐coloured, or striped in many lines horizontally or vertically. By the following evening all had disappeared, with the exception of about 400, as we afterwards ascertained, left behind to garrison the town. This forlorn hope, I doubt not, were none too well pleased at remaining in such unpleasant proximity to us.
Our arrival at the frontier was undoubtedly responsible for the retirement of Admiral Ho’s army. For he had been for some time comfortably settled in Samchun without evincing the least anxiety to follow up the rebels, who were reported to be laying waste the country farther on, pillaging the villages, torturing the officials, and levying taxes on the inhabitants. His departure removed a constant source of danger; for his undisciplined troops might have been tempted to cross the boundary into our territory and harass the villagers under our protection.
We now employed ourselves in patrolling the frontier, exercising the troops and making sketches to supplement the very inadequate information as to the surrounding country in our possession. Although the Hinterland had been ceded to the British two years before, and although it lies in such close proximity to Hong Kong, no accurate survey of it had ever been made. The only map which could be found to provide the expedition with was one done by a Jesuit missionary in 1840. It was fairly correct as regards outlines, but contained absolutely no details except a number of names, which might refer to villages or to features of the ground. For instance, at the spot on the map where our camp stood, we read the word “Lo‐u.” This, before we arrived there, we concluded referred to a village. But there was not a house in the vicinity, and we found that it was the name of the hill on which our tents were pitched. Our energetic commander employed himself in surveying and filling in the details of the surrounding country, marking the positions of the hamlets and paths—for roads there were none—and ascertaining the ranges and heights of the various prominent features around us.
About a mile away down the river lay the Chinese Customs station that we had passed on our way up. I strolled there one afternoon and made the acquaintance of the officers in charge. They were both Britishers. One of them, Mr. Percy Affleck‐Scott, told me that our arrival had been a great relief to them. When the rebels had been in the vicinity they had received several messages from the leaders who threatened to march down upon their station, burn it, and cut their heads off. In view of the repeated declarations of the Triads, that no hostility is felt by them to foreigners, these threats are significant. As they had little reliance on the prowess of the Chinese soldiers if attacked by the rebels, these two Britishers had been considerably relieved at the arrival of our force, in whose neighbourhood they knew that they would be safe.
The position of the European Custom House officials in the Outdoor Branch, stationed as they generally are in out‐of‐the‐way places in Chinese territory with no society of their own kind, is scarcely enviable. Their work, which consists in levying duty on imports into the country, frequently brings them into unpleasant contact with Chinese officials, who regard the existence of their service with intense dislike, as it robs them of chances of extortion. Those employed in the Indoor Branch are generally stationed in cities like Hong Kong, Shanghai, Pekin, or other large centres where life is enjoyable.
When visiting the Samchun Custom House on another occasion, at a later period, I saw a number of small, two‐pounder rifled breechloading guns belonging to Admiral Ho’s force being embarked on a war‐junk. I examined them with interest. They were mounted on small‐wheeled carriages and bore the stamp of the Chinese arsenal where they had been made. The breech ends were square, with a falling block worked by a lever at the side. They were well finished; for the work turned out at these arsenals by native workmen, often under European supervision, is generally very good.