I had a funny feeling in my right arm, too, and guessed that it had got in the way of a bullet, but could move it all right.
I looked back to see whether the skipper had got safely across yet, and saw that he was just disappearing between the two little hills or ridges which Parkinson was holding; so it was time for me to be off, and we began to retire according to the laws and regulations of the dear old drill book. I sent the Maxim downhill with a run, and Withers and his half company with it, to get behind a bit of a bank two hundred yards in the rear, and held on with my marines, dropping a few Chinese who were brave enough to stand up and show themselves; but most of the skunks were simply wriggling along from one bush or grave mound to another, and I'm jiggered if you can hit a man who's crawling and dodging—that is, when you are excited, and your heart is trying to thump its way out of your chest, and you are expecting the order to retire and have one eye on the rear.
They began to get round my right flank then, and I was beginning to think that "little James" was in a pretty tight corner, when old "B.-T." saw them and came back, just in time, cheering as if he was winning the battle of Waterloo and Trafalgar all rolled into one, and went careering right into them.
This checked them for half a minute, and gave my people time to drag our wounded man—I had to leave the dead one—down the hill, and for the rest of us to fall back together halfway down the slope.
"B.-T." came along after us, and we faced round and walked backwards very slowly, and they didn't like the look of our bayonets and wouldn't charge down, though they were swarming up above us and yelling like stuck pigs. (If they had charged they would have swept clean over us.) We managed to bring along two more of my chaps who were hit and couldn't walk, and sent them on to the rear, and when we got to level ground again we opened out, and bolted for where the Maxim and "B.-T.'s" other half company were. They gave them blue blazes as they came screaming after us, and dropped dozens.
I saw one of the bluejackets fall forward, his head striking the soft ground, and go slithering along. The Chinese were not twenty yards behind, so "B.-T." and two of his chaps stopped and tried to bring him with them. Old "B.-T." had to do a bit of work with his sword and revolver for a minute or two; but we'd got our breath behind the bank, came along to his rescue, and beat 'em back, Langham picking the fellow up like a sack of corn and carrying him to the rear.
"Look at that rotten thing," "B.-T." panted out, as he got behind the Maxim, holding out his arm and showing me where his sword had broken off, about twelve inches from the hilt.
"If you will do the V.C. act, old chap, with a rotten tailor-made sword, what can you expect?" I told him.
The Chinese daren't face our fire in the open, and funked it, so that we were able to fall back again all serenely. It wasn't the fear of seeing any of our people getting killed that worried me then; it was the dread of seeing them wounded so badly that they had to be carried, because, as I told you before, each one so wounded meant two sound men to carry him away, and handicapped us so tremendously.
We were behind Parkinson now, and gave our wounded to the Skipper's main body. I caught a glimpse of "Old Lest" standing, with his great feet wide apart, and of "Blucher" squatting between them. He was watching the Chinese through his glasses, and young Ford and Ponsonby were standing close to him, looking white and nervous. He shouted out, "Well done, rearguard!" and we hurried past and came to a group of Chinese bluejackets, standing shoulder to shoulder. In the middle of them, I knew, was my poor little princess and her miserable little father. You see, bullets were still coming past pretty thickly, and Ching was shielding her with his men's bodies.