An unsuccessful attempt was made by the boats of the flagship the very same night to pull up some of the iron stakes driven into the bed of the river, that held the booms in their position across its mouth.
This failed through the tenacity of the mud, the effort of the bluejackets being discovered by the batteries, which fired on them, compelling them to desist and return to their ship; but, this was a mere flash in the pan, the real attack being planned for the morrow.
In the meantime, the fleet had moved in from the Sha-liu-tien Islands to the anchorage opposite the entrance to the Peiho, where our ship and the Chesapeake, with some of the others remained out of range of the batteries, which we on our side, were unable to reach with our guns for any effective purposes.
The gunboats of lesser draught, however, proceeded to cross the bar of the river; where also the boats of the bigger ships were subsequently despatched, filled with all the small-arms men and marines available to form a reserve force which was to attack the principal batteries in the flank after the gunboat had pounded them in front, as well as fill up casualties in the first line.
Every man on board the Candahar was on the alert on the morning of the memorable 24th June, I can tell you, when the boatswain’s pipe went screeching through the ship at daylight, and the commander sang out the order to “Man and arm boats.”
“I bet we don’t have any fight at all!” grumbled Mr Stormcock, as he buckled on his sword and prepared to go in the launch with Mr Gilham, who was directed to command her, Larkyns, having to play second fiddle in the boat on this occasion. “Those blessed Chinamen won’t come up to the scratch as soon as they see we mean business.”
“Perhaps not,” said Mr Gilham. “But, they were precious sharp last night in detecting those fellows that went after the booms. I think they mean fighting this time, they’re keeping so dark.”
“Well, I only hope they do, sir,” replied the master’s mate, with a heavy sigh that evidently came from the bottom of his heart. “For my part, I think they’ll cut and run at the first shot, as they’ve always done before. I was out here, sir, in the Fatshan affair up the Canton River in ’57, and I remember as we boarded the junks on one side, all of us racing after them up the creek, the yellow devils would jump out on the other, without standing up against us for an instant.”
While they were talking, I managed to scramble into the bows of the launch unobserved, nobody noticing me till we had left the ship and it was too late; and, though Mr Gilham shook his fist at me and told me I was “acting against orders,” he beckoned me to come aft, where Larkyns and Mr Stormcock made a place for me between them in the sternsheets, the rest of the boat being crammed with bluejackets and marines, the latter sitting down on the bottom boards between the thwarts and the knees of those pulling.
On pulling inshore we made fast to some junks which had been requisitioned and moored just inside the bar for the purpose, and here we remained while the gunboats went on to the assault; Admiral Hope leading the advance in person and hoisting his flag on the little Plover, which showed the way to the rest, moving onward to the first obstruction in the river, a long row of iron piles linked together by eight-inch hawsers hove taut.