CHAPTER V.

Ho! for Canton--The Bombardment commences--Howling--Our Landing--The rough March--Our first Brush with Johnny--The Bivouac--Our strange Position--On Picket--Shells and Rockets--Hot Tea and no Sleep!--What I thought about--Come on, my Lads--A nasty Hero--The Rendezvous--Our Advance--Scaling the Walls--Jamming a Frenchman--Five Pounds for a Flag!--Inside the Walls--Wanton firing--A Charge--Wounded Natives--Scorching Explosions--Canton ours--Marooning and Feasting--Cries of Distress--Chinese Girl--A Rescue--The Provost-marshal--Stop! or I’ll fire--An Escape--Horrid Prisons--Yeh’s Slaughter-ground--Competitive Headsmen--Mandarin Funeral--A white Affair and rather jolly--Body-guard and Musicians--A Good Son--On Board a Junk--Return to our Ship.

A flag of truce went up to Canton a day or two ago, and its bearers reported that the Celestials appear to have made no preparations whatever. On December 12th the French squadron also steamed up; as they passed, we gave them three long and hearty cheers, which they readily returned.

On the 28th, early in the morning, we embarked in a gun-boat, glad at having something to do, and steamed away towards Canton, the bombardment of which had commenced at daylight, the ships throwing in a shot and shell alternately about every three minutes, causing ruin and consternation in the city. At the commencement of the firing the people of the small towns and villages adjacent set up a mournful howling, accompanied by gongs, which coming across the lonely paddy-fields in the gray of the morning sounded strange and unearthly. We landed from our gun-boat about two P.M. a little below and to the north-east of the city; and were quickly drawn up in sections, headed by our respective officers, at the same time our day’s ‘scran,’ consisting of raw pork and biscuit, was served out. Our party belonged to the third division, and was commanded by Sir Robert M’Clure. I belonged to the second section, third division, which numbered, I think, about two hundred men, the section with which I marched being the centre. Upon first marching off, each division took a different route, about half a mile distant from each other. The route we had to take led us three miles or so through a continuous burial-place, so that the ground being lumpy and uneven it was rather toilsome work. By-and-by we got into even cultivated country, with low trees and ponds about; and were approaching the east gate of the city, having the river about a mile distant on our left, when a few stray shots whizzed past, giving us an inkling of the enemy’s whereabouts. We were now a mile or so from the city, where the bombardment was still going on, our shot and shell tumbling in pell-mell; and we passed numbers of dead Chinamen who had fallen earlier in the day. About four o’clock we came in front of a small gateway, through which many of the “Pilongs” (bad men or ragamuffins) were crowding in retreat, armed with ginjalls; and upon our approach a rather irregular, but annoying fire, was sent into us. Opposite the gate we halted, and threw out skirmishers, who advanced filing: a shell or two from the shipping falling amongst the mob in the gateway occasioned some slaughter, but more scampering. We then continued our advance, and the Long-tails retreated, yelling in derision and waving their flags, but acting solely on the defensive; so lowering our muskets at the order “charge,” we soon cleared the gate. During the slight skirmish--which may have lasted half an hour--one or two of our men were wounded; the stretcher-men immediately took them up, and bore them to the hospital on the beach. As the valiant Chinamen had been driven back, our skirmishers were called in, pickets were posted, and the Naval Brigade bivouacked for the night. We soon had fires blazing cheerily, and began cooking our pork, making tea, and so on. We had to make the best of a short rest, for our section was the next for picket-duty, and we had barely time to get supper before our turn came.

The picket was stationed in a small clump of trees, to guard against any sudden attack of the Braves--in fact, we were in a natural ambush. It was now about nine o’clock, and quite dark; and the rocket party, which was stationed on our right, began throwing their twelve and twenty-four pound rockets into the city. Meanwhile, the rockets and shells from the shipping flew hissing over us, and these, together with the whistling of the returning shot from the walls, that ploughed up the ground a few yards beyond our bivouac, formed a grand and startling scene, in which our situation was rather queer. Fires were blazing fiercely in different parts of the city, lighting up the loopholes and yawning embrasures of the grim old wall, and giving us an idea of the place we were destined to capture on the morrow. Our picket was relieved soon after nine, and we could then go and lie by our fires till two o’clock, when it would be again our turn. The night was fine, but very chilly; and I was glad to be relieved, as I had had but little time before to get ‘chow-chow’ (something to eat), so I boiled some water, and made a pannikin of tea, and drank it to moisten my biscuit; and then, feeling weary, I lay down, wrapped my blanket around me, and tried to sleep. But I tried in vain; sleep kept aloof; so I lay and thought, watching the hissing rockets as they flew past on their errand of destruction, wondering where they would fall and whom they would injure; what would be likely to befal us on the morrow; and then--what are they doing at home? So I lay till twelve o’clock, when, unable to sleep, I rose, stirred up and replenished one of the slumbering fires, and made another refreshing pannikin of tea. One or two of my messmates were like myself, and could not sleep; but the majority, wrapped snugly in their blankets, slept as sound as tops. I walked about till two o’clock, when we again went on duty: one half of a section formed a picket, numbering sixteen or seventeen men, according to the strength of the section.

At four o’clock the bivouac was broken up, and we marched silently towards the city. It being yet rather dark, our march was rather difficult, and we frequently stumbled; and a certain gallant lieutenant, in his zeal to lead the way, hastened forwards, crying, “Come on, my lads!” and fell head over heels into a reservoir of filth and excrement. On being hauled out by myself and another man, he swore most lustily, and stank so foully that his single advance would have dispersed any enemy less hardened against noisome odours than the Chinese; while we, of course, laughed at him as much as discipline permitted. I don’t know what became of him afterwards; but he disappeared. We also had dangers in other shapes, such as old wells and deep hollows, which it behoved us to keep a good look-out for, if we did not want to be trapped. After about an hour we came to a large pile of buildings, which we determined upon attacking, as a portion of the Imperial troops were said to be lodged there; but finding the birds flown, we resumed our march to the rendezvous of the naval forces. This was at a large temple, about which the shot and arrows of the enemy were falling thickly, wounding many of our men. We waited here till nearly nine o’clock, the hour named for the united attack by the allies. Shortly before the time we were ordered to advance, the gallant old admiral encouraging us by his example. The different divisions seized their scaling-ladders, and made a rush for the walls: close underneath was a ditch, which we had to cross, and it caused us some inconvenience to get the ladder over. I was in the middle of the party, with my head between the rounds of a ladder, which rested on my shoulders, and managed to get as far as the middle of the trench, and there I stuck, till assisted by some who had scrambled across. Soon the ladders were raised against the different embrasures; ours was at once crowded with marines; so seeing no chance of getting up by that, I ran to the next, and swarmed up with the other fellows, whose weight made the ladder creak and grumble, and threaten us with a fall. I had mounted but two or three rounds, when a poor little bugler, belonging to the marines, who expected to see the lot of us come down by the run, caught hold of my leg, and held on like a leech. I shook him off, however, got to the top of the ladder, jumped through the embrasure upon the wall, and ran stem on to a Frenchman, and got a heavy fall by the shock. I scrambled up somehow, and, looking round, saw the old admiral on one of the scaling-ladders, shouting as he stepped up, “Has any man of you a flag? Five pounds for a flag! Has nobody a flag?” and doing his best to cheer us on by word and example. All our force was now making for the north of the city along the wall, in disorder, without any apparent regard for divisions; and keeping up an irregular fire upon any poor helpless Chinaman they happened to spy out; many firing for mere wantonness and devilment, thus wasting ‘Andrew’s’[1] valuable ammunition. The Braves offered but a feeble resistance; they didn’t dare to show out in fair fight; but skulked behind houses and walls, firing when they thought they were likely to escape detection. At one place near the north gate they made a stand, but we soon put them to the right-about by a charge from our division; they didn’t appear to relish cold steel at all. The ground by this time was thickly sprinkled with dead and dying Chinamen; and it was hideous and sickening to see many of them, so fearfully were they disfigured. They invariably carry their powder loose in the same belt with a burning match, by which they fire their ginjalls; and as they lay partially doubled up, wounded or dying, the matches continuing to burn, set fire to the powder, and the poor wretches were cruelly scorched by the explosion, in addition to their other torments.

[1] The seamen’s synonym for government, or the authorities at home.

The fire, which had been pretty brisk at first, was now fast slackening; in fact, the allies were in possession of the city, and soon our flags blew out in the breeze, over the twice-captured city of Canton.

But though the place was taken, we had now and then to send a shot at the Braves, who annoyed us by their scattered and covert fire; and to prevent useless risk, we were not allowed to go in among the houses, but were divided along the wall, by which the means of escape from within were cut off.

That night we were quartered in one of the streets near the wall, and took possession of the half-ruinous houses, cooking our food in native coppers, and otherwise asserting our prerogative as conquerors. But martial law reigned paramount; we were only sailors in barracks, instead of afloat. However, we did stray about for all that, then and afterwards, braving the consequences, and often with impunity. We used to go out ‘marooning,’ and many a batch of fowls and pigs was brought in, on which we feasted, as an old salt said, like little kings. But too often this prowling for poultry was but the pretext for robbery and brutal violence. The Chinese well knew the barbarians’ propensity, and sacrificed their own daughters and wives rather than let them fall into European hands.

I was out on one day in a street near our quarters, when, hearing a tremendous screaming, apparently of a woman in distress, I ran quickly to the house whence the cries issued, and found a seaman ill-treating a young native girl. I didn’t wait for apology or explanation, but simply knocked him down with the butt of my pistol, asking him if he thought his conduct was manly. He attempted no reply or retaliation, and walked off. The poor girl looked very grateful at me for the unexpected deliverance, and I took her into a neighbouring house, where plenty of her own sex had congregated; they, seeing me lead her in, mistook my intentions, and I was quickly surrounded by a mob, out of which I had to escape, pursued by a volley of missiles, none of which, however, were very weighty.

Of course the provost-marshal was a great man, and woe to the inquisitive invaders whom he happened to catch straggling, for away they were marched to his quarters, and ere long their backs bore testimony of the harshness of military discipline.

I was once out near the east gate, on an exploring expedition, when I espied this hated functionary and his myrmidons. They saw me. I took to my heels, encumbered as I was with my cutlass and pistol; they after me. “Stop, stop!” sung out the marshal. “Stop, or I’ll fire!” “Fire away, old fellow!” said I, and continued running. “You’d better stop!” But I didn’t; when--ping! whistled a bullet past me, striking the hilt of my cutlass on its way. My pursuers were now close behind me, when, seeing a house with open door ahead, I rushed in and slammed the door; but, being hard pressed, had scarcely time to look round when they were at the entrance. The door soon yielded, but just as they, infuriated with the chase, rushed in, I jumped out at the window, a height of about six feet, and skulking along among the ruins of shattered houses, escaped from the clutches of the law, glad enough when I got back again to our quarters. ‘Looting,’ or straggling, had been forbidden by the admiral, but our superiors used to wink at it, for their own especial benefit; so at least we thought.

Not a very great way from our quarters at Canton, and near the east gate, among the riddled and half-burned houses, stood the remains of some prisons, which, judging from their building and wretched unaccommodations, could never have been used for important criminals. They contained long rows of cells, barely big enough to hold one man chained; badly roofed, and quite open to the gaze of the brutal public. I never had the ill-luck to be shut up in a Chinese prison, but if all the rest are like those I saw at Canton, any bungler who could pile up bricks and mortar could build state prisons in China.

In the east quarter of the city is the execution-ground. From one of the numerous eastern thoroughfares you suddenly come upon a dead wall, which has one small doorway. Enter, and you have before you a dark square, enclosed by four walls--the scene of Yeh’s atrocious massacres. Here, within this blood-stained square, thousands of unfortunate Celestials have fallen victims to that rascal’s insatiable thirst for human blood. The place looks gloomy and foul, and we were glad to get away from its sickening atmosphere and its suggestions of dying cries and fruitless appeals for mercy.

The price given for taking off a human head, as I was told, is half a dollar, which brings many applicants for the office of public executioner. But he, like other public functionaries, has to pass an examination in order to prove himself fit for the sanguinary duty, and exhibit his skill with the sword in shaving a pumpkin into thin slices with one cut of his weapon. If his first trial be not satisfactory, he tries again and again till he “passes.” I never had the brutal curiosity to witness an execution, but have been told that beheading is a merciful death, the head being invariably severed at one blow. An executioner who strikes more than once is immediately disgraced and dismissed his office.

One day, just before we left the city, I had an opportunity of witnessing a “white affair,” as the Chinese term their funerals. Judging from the noise and irreverence that prevail, I should say they have no notion of solemnity in connexion with a funeral, but, on the contrary, regard it as something jolly. The one I saw was the funeral of a mandarin, and was therefore on a grand scale, very different from a poor fellow’s funeral. The procession was headed by four coolies bearing on a bamboo a small miniature temple, tenanted by Tien-Hows (Queens of Heaven) and Josses, and carved and gilt within and without, according to the prevalent fashion. Next came on other four coolies, bearing, on a slight stage, decorated with coloured paper, a clean white cloth thrown over it, a huge roast pig, swimming in fat, and garnished with sundry to me unknown ingredients, besides small trays of confectionery, cakes, drinks, and so on. Following these came an individual whom I put down as a priest, who was there for the purpose of comforting, or imparting ghostly counsel, bearing on his head what looked like a conical tin hat; he was accompanied by one of the friends of the deceased, dressed also in white, carrying in his hand a large bundle of pieces of white paper, cut into moderate-sized squares, having a small gilt spot in the centre. At every few steps he disengaged a few of these favours, throwing one to the right, one to the left, as the procession travelled on. Next in order came the deceased nobleman’s body-guard, in number about thirty, each bearing his implement of office; for instance, the butcher a tremendously long knife, which he flourished with evident delight; the gardener a hoe or mattock; and the executioner a placard setting forth, doubtless, the number of victims during the past or present week. The others carried badges according to their office, and most of them were dressed in fantastic garments. Following these came the musicians, making a fearful noise with their various instruments, the principal of which was a machine emitting sounds like those of a Scotch bagpipe, but not quite so musical. Then the corpse, in one of the native manufactured coffins, resembling a huge packing-case, profusely ornamented and varnished, and carried by eight coolies in divers shabby coloured garments. Then the mourners, chief among whom may have been the son, apparently so much stricken with grief that two attendants supported him. When the procession stopped to allow the bearers to rest, this dutiful child suddenly changed his tone for one of great merriment, laughing and talking with the followers, as if he were at a play instead of his father’s funeral. So much for filial feeling! Among the mourners were several women, all more or less habited in white, according to their degree of relationship to the deceased. Several mandarins on led horses followed them, laughing and joking loudly; and a score or so of household dependants brought up the rear. All the white garments looked very fusty, and were put on with studied negligence, in order to give an idea of a total abandonment to grief.

And so the procession passed along, sometimes silently, sometimes making a precious hubbub, till they arrived at one of the piers upon the river, where, waiting for them alongside the pier, lay a large well-built mandarin junk. The body was first put in, then the small temple and pig, and lastly the mourners and musicians stepped on board. Sail was made, and the junk glided away down the river, the white favours being strewed at intervals upon the water. They were bound to Whampoa, the deceased’s native place, and there he was to be buried according to invariable Chinese custom.

At last, after fifteen days “hard laying,” as we said, and just as we had got settled in our newly-pitched tents, we had to return to our ship, having been away seventeen days. Our hammocks felt soft in comparison with the Chinaman’s ground, but most of us felt sorry that our campaign had been so brief and so unremunerative in excitement.