"Then go, and come back with them. I will at once notify the German Legation of this terrible happening, and advise that they send a squad of marines to bring back their wounded interpreter. God bless you, lad! I am glad to have you with us in this time of our trouble."
"And I, sir, am mighty glad to be here."
In less than an hour after Rob's report to the minister a long procession of refugees issued from the mouth of Filial Piety Alley, and turned into Ha-ta Street, where it was watched by crowding thousands of impassive Chinese. First came twenty American marines, hardy-looking fellows, bronzed by long service in the Philippines, under command of Captain Hall. These were followed by the American women and children of the mission and one hundred and twenty-six Chinese girl pupils of the mission school. Then came Chinese Christian women with their children, followed by a large body of Chinese men and boy converts. After them marched a stern-looking group of German marines, bearing and guarding a stretcher, on which lay the wounded legation interpreter whom Rob had been so instrumental in saving. The rear was brought up by a body of resolute-appearing missionaries armed with rifles and revolvers. With these marched Rob Hinckley, no longer disguised as a Boxer, but clad in the costume of his own people, and bearing himself with the self-confidence of one who had undergone a long experience in affairs like the present. The Chinese converts numbered over one thousand, and every member of the long procession was laden with food, clothing, household effects, or whatever portable things they had considered of greatest value.
At the Italian barricade on Legation Street it was met by the remaining marines of the American guard and escorted to the legation. Although the streets were crowded with Chinese soldiers, Boxers, and citizens, no attempt was made to interfere in any way with the flight of these refugees, and that afternoon they were quartered within the spacious walls of the British Legation compound, where all foreigners, except those already sustaining attack in the Roman Catholic cathedral, were gathered for protection.
Here was a scene to beggar description. Streams of carts, and swarms of coolies laden with provisions, baggage, and household effects, were pouring in from every direction. The numerous low, one-story buildings of the legation were being assigned to different nationalities, or set apart for specific purposes. Men, women, and children, diplomats, soldiers, missionaries, railway engineers, bank clerks, customs employés, servants, and coolies, speaking every language under the sun, dogs and ponies, rapid-fire guns, jinrikishas, carts, and wheelbarrows, furniture, bedding, provisions, cases of wine, barrels of beer, and a thousand other things, all were mixed in apparently inextricable confusion.
At precisely four o'clock General Tung-Fu-Hsang's soldiers from Kwang-su opened fire with a sharp volley of musketry from the city streets, and the siege of the Pekin legations was begun.
[CHAPTER XXVIII]
FIGHTING SIXTY FEET ABOVE GROUND
Although the heavily walled compound of the British Legation, which during the siege sheltered four hundred foreigners and as many more Chinese Christians, or nearly one thousand persons in all, was the stronghold of the defence, the lines occupied and held embraced a wide outside area, both to the eastward and on the south. Beyond the imperial canal, just east of the legation, stood an extensive collection of buildings enclosed by a wall, forming the yamen, or palace, of Prince Su. On the first day of the siege this was seized and occupied as quarters for the hundreds of school-girls and native Christians whom the missionaries had refused to abandon. It was defended by the Japanese, assisted by the Italian and Austrian marines, and though it was subject to many fierce attacks and an almost continuous bombardment that set its buildings on fire a dozen times, it never was given up.