A Middy's Recollections, 1853-1860

by Victor Alexander Montagu

Luckily, we were not hit, though our awning caught fire in several places from falling débris; and mighty glad was I to find our poor craft clear of all these blazing junks and once more out of harm’s way.

I had one very close shave during the fighting. (Probably there were plenty of others, unknown to me.) I was standing on the sponson, helping the wounded up out of the boats, when I heard a devil of a crash close to my head, and, turning round, saw a great bulge and crack in the pantry bulkhead, at the after end of the paddle-box, exactly in a line with my head. I could not resist the temptation to look round, and in at the door, to see what was wrong; and there I beheld an 18-pound shot still pirouetting round on a shelf on which stood some of our crockery, now all more or less smashed. The missile had gone right through our paddle-box from one end to the other. A few more grains of powder or one bulkhead less, and my head would have been unshipped to a moral.

Luckily, John Chinaman was not in those days enlightened in the use of shells. Had he been so, we should probably have lost four times as many men, and we might not have been able to take and destroy the Chinese Fleet as we did; Still, the Chinamen had grape, and filled their guns with bags of musket balls; and the jingall was an ugly customer, throwing a very large bullet.

Once out of fire, on our way down the river, there was time to reflect. What would we not have given for a good cup of China tea under some of the groves we passed, and for the privilege of being left in peace for a short time? Instead of being at rest, we were tearing along full-speed, leaking like a sieve, owing to the shot holes.

The first thing I did to my outward person was to change my clothes and make an attempt at a wash. I was covered in blood, begrimed with smoke: in fact, filthy. I had a hasty feed on what I could get hold of: to find anything was difficult, with so many poor wounded lying about on the beds in our cabins, on the sofas, everywhere.

The next trouble was our leaks. Where the shot had gone through our sides all was fairly well, as the holes had been plugged up and covered with boarding; but several had stuck in our sides, and the vibration of the engines loosened them, and the leakage was serious. Pumps were kept going; but at one time during the night it was doubtful if we should reach Hong-Kong, as the water was rising to near the stoke-hole fire-pits. We hung on all night, however, and reached Hong-Kong at nine next morning.

The remembrance of that evening and night, while we were steaming down, is heart-rending. It was dead calm, and the cries of the wounded were unbearable. Many were calling for their relations and friends; others would rise up in their beds, and then throw themselves down in despair. Several times I went on to the sponson to have their piteous cries drowned in the noise of the paddle wheels.

Poor fellows, who had been scorched terribly from explosions of boats’ magazines, were enveloped in wadding. Some of them sank during the night from exhaustion: though covered in wadding from head to foot, they found no respite from their agonies. There was a nice young fellow, a mate of the Tribune, who had a grape shot through his lungs. It was touching to hear him talking to his coxswain, who knelt by his side, fanning him the while. The chief subject of his conversation was his poor mother. He also sank during the early hours of morning. When daylight broke our decks presented a sorry sight. It was painful to have renewed the scenes of suffering which the darkness had mitigated. Some were soon to die; others were in great pain; but generally all now seemed more still, and, except for the noise of the paddle wheels, a sort of silence came over us as day dawned: the weary were more at rest. I shall never forget that night. I snatched an hour or two’s sleep; but one and all of us did what we could to help the surgeons, and it was a relief when the dead bodies and the wounded were taken out alongside the hospital ship and our decks were washed down.

We repaired our shot holes, coaled, and, as soon as possible, returned to the front that same evening. Next day we took up officers from the ships to see the scene of the fight of the 1st of June. Some Chinamen were already trying to raise their guns sunken in the junks; but a few shots sent them flying. We found we had smashed them up terribly. It was interesting to seek out details of where we had been only three days before, and of what we had done in certain localities; also to note how the Chinese had placed their stakes, many of which were shot away—only the stumps left.

Again, how extraordinary it was that we had not lost more men! An action like this—(I verily believe that during the twelve hours it lasted it could not have been hotter)—is a pretty good test of British pluck. I can conscientiously say that I did not see the slightest hesitation in any man from beginning to end. Even when the boats were fairly beaten off, and Keppel had to retire for reinforcements, there was no hurry while retiring. The men paddled back at leisure, and took their licking calmly.