By now it was almost dark, but Lew took the ship upstream beyond the chain and round another bend, where they came across half a dozen sampans moored to the bank.
‘Think we should sink those?’ Fulton asked.
Lew considered. They were certainly potential means of attack on his ship, but all the aggression had to come from the other side. ‘We’ll let them make the play,’ he decided. He took his ship round another bend, out of sight of the sampans, and then called it a day and dropped the hook.
‘Casualties,’ he asked Fulton.
‘Five men wounded, sir, but only one seriously.’
‘Well, we can probably expect an attack tonight. Tell the men to keep alert.’ He went below to visit the wounded, found them perfectly cheerful and itching to get back to duty. Then he returned to the bridge, to wait. And wonder again what had happened. What had gone wrong. To think of Brenda perhaps in the power of some lecherous Chinese warlord made him want to keep on all night. But he didn’t know that, and risking his ship would not help Brenda. Besides, the Chinese officer’s words need not have meant a thing.
There was a half moon, but also a good deal of cloud, and the night alternated between brightness and total darkness. It was two in the morning when they heard splashes, and saw more sampans, a good dozen of them, coming down-river. The word was passed from mouth to mouth rather than by the alarm, and the men stood to, but Lew did not feel he could open fire until the boats were identified as hostile. So he peered into the darkness, while a petty officer stood by on the searchlight, waiting to turn night into day when the order came.
The swishes came closer, and now the sampans could be discerned, in line. They were some distance to starboard of the gunboat, and appeared to be steering to give her a wide berth. But their very presence, in the middle of the night, was suspicious.
The first sampan went on until it was astern of Tombstone. The second and third were both abeam, the fourth and fifth still up-river. Lew kept watching the leader, and now he saw it begin to turn, back against the current.
‘Searchlight,’ he snapped. ‘Open fire, Mr Fulton,’ he shouted.
The searchlight beam cut through the darkness to pick up the sampan closing on the stem, which was now revealed to be filled with men. As were the others. While there were many more on the river bank. These now began shooting, and they had armed themselves with some cannon as well, although their aim was thankfully poor. Meanwhile every man on board Tombstone was also firing, and the noise was almost reminiscent of Jutland. Bullets clanged and whined around the gunboat, while Fulton, manning the after gun, pumped three explosive shells at point blank range into the nearest sampan; it sank like a stone, leaving its passengers swimming for their lives. Forward Petty Officer Smith had opened fire on the sampans closing the bow. He had also sunk one, but two others were now virtually alongside.
‘Repel boarders,’ Lew shouted, feeling like some old time pirate. He left the bridge himself, armed with rifle and bayonet, and recalling the drill he had undergone at Portsmouth back in 1915. But he had never anticipated engaging in hand to hand fighting.
Over the rail of the gunboat swarmed the Chinese soldiers, all wearing the drab khaki uniform he had become familiar with at Shanghai, yelling and screaming, and preferring swords to the bayonet. Lew had reached the foot of the ladder when the first men appeared before him. He shot one and then another, at point blank range, sent another man down with a bayonet thrust and fired again. Swords clanged against his bayonet but a sweep of the rifle, controlled by those giant muscles, drove them back again. And now the crew had rallied to his support, while from aft Fulton continued to pump shot into the sampans.
The fight probably didn’t last more than ten minutes, and then the last of the attackers was leaping over the rail and into the water. But the battle was not yet won, as the men on the shore now resumed firing. ‘Douse that searchlight,’ Lew shouted, and the light died. ‘Take cover.’
His men crouched behind shelter as the bullets again whanged and screamed about them, but behind their shields the two quick-firers kept up their deadly chatter, and slowly the shooting died away as the Chinese began to count their casualties. It was time for him to do the same, and as he had feared, they were severe. Three men had been killed and some twenty-five wounded — a third of his command. But few of the wounded were serious. He had himself received a slash across the arm which had penetrated his jacket and shirt to cut the skin, but he staunched the bleeding with a bandage.
And that they had inflicted a heavy defeat upon the warlord’s forces was revealed at dawn, when they saw the wrecked sampans caught on a sandbank, where dead bodies had been left by the current. They also observed that the bank was empty. The Chinese had withdrawn.
‘Breakfast, sir,’ Able Seaman Porter, his servant, said cheerfully. ‘How’s the arm?’
‘Sore,’ Lew told him.
‘Well, we sure gave them a pasting, didn’t we, sir?’
‘I guess we did, Porter.’
‘What now?’ Fulton joined him, a cup of coffee in his hand.
‘On to Wu-Yang while we have them on the hop. But first...our dead.’
‘You can’t leave them here,’ the ensign protested.
‘We can’t take them back to Shanghai, mister,’ Lew pointed out. ‘That’s a good fortnight away, and in this heat...has to be here.’
It was a sombre occasion, shared by all the crew, who knew that, however weighted, there was a chance the bodies would float back to the surface of the river, and who also knew that it could still be their fate to end their days in these murky brown waters. For Lew it brought back memories of the day after the fight with the U-boat. He had not buried a man at sea since then. And he was the only man of Tombstone’s company who had ever witnessed such a ceremony. That was a sobering thought, when it could be extended to most ships in the United States Navy.
The service over, he commanded steam to be raised and the anchor was brought in, while, tired as he knew they were, he put his men to work on removing all possible traces of the recent battle, especially bloodstains, while bullet holes — and the funnel had been hit several times — were either filled or covered with stretched canvas which was immediately painted, so that from the shore it would seem that the ship had been quite undamaged by the action.
*
They were again under observation from the bank, but there was no more firing, although Fulton kept his gun crews ready for action. Slowly they proceeded on their way, rounding bend after bend, watching the mountains seeming to be coming closer, while the river narrowed and Lew knew a sudden fear that there might be something neither he nor Brenda had thought of — insufficient water to get Tombstone up to Wu-Yang.
But in the middle of the afternoon they had begun to see houses, and large numbers of people, gathered on the banks, and these were women and children as well as men. Then the city came into sight, large, walled, sprawling, a good half mile of wharves and clustered sampans, behind which the narrow streets and myriad houses went inland for some distance.
‘Holy Jesus Christ,’ Fulton muttered. ‘If all of those people decide to have a go at us together...’
‘They won’t,’ Lew assured him. ‘That’s our secret weapon. And there’s your target, in case of trouble.’ He pointed at the yellow-walled, pagoda-roofed palace, which was situated close to the water’s edge. ‘That’s where we’ll anchor.’
The gunboat steamed slowly past the wharves and the houses, while the crowds on shore grew, running to and fro, shouting their comments, which could be heard even above the growl of the engine.
Lew waited until Tombstone was exactly opposite the palace, and then gave the order, and the anchor plunged into the water.
‘That place has a couple of guns,’ Fulton remarked, having been inspecting it through his binoculars.
‘So have we,’ Lew reminded him. He was not at all sure as to his next step, lacking information as to what had actually happened in the city; he had to pi
n his faith in Brenda’s information, that a large part of Chang Huang Lu’s army, and especially his officers, were dissatisfied with the course their leader was taking, and that the mere appearance of a United States warship — especially one which had just defeated Chang’s army — would cause consternation. And sure enough, almost as soon as the gunboat came to rest a sampan came out from the city, flying a flag of truce.
Lew had already changed into his spare white uniform, full tunic and longs instead of shirt and shorts, with his medal ribbons on his breast, and now he buckled on both sword and revolver, feeling rather like Douglas Fairbanks, as he stood at the gangway to survey the approaching officer, who, like all of Chang Kuang Lu’s men, wore khaki, although with a great deal of red added, tabs on his lapels, on his epaulettes, and his cuffs, as well as banded round his peaked cap.
‘Are you the captain of this ship?’ he inquired.
‘I am. Lieutenant-Commander Lewis McGann.’
The officer saluted. ‘General Teng Fu, Commander of the armies of the great Chang.’
So what had happened to Kang Lee? Lew wondered, and began to feel distinctly uneasy.
‘I am required by the great Chang to learn why you have committed an act of war upon his people,’ Teng Fu said.
‘Rather do I require an apology from Marshal Chang Kuang Lu for his act of war in firing upon a United States warship,’ Lew countered.
‘You invaded our territory.’
‘I came here at the urgent request of some American citizens, who have been falsely arrested by your people.’
‘Falsely,’ Teng Fu remarked. ‘Do you suppose you, with your puny ship, can challenge the might of the great Chang?’
‘Was that his might last night?’ Lew asked. He pointed at the two quick-firers, and at his signal, Fulton had the guns swung to aim at the palace, which Lew knew would be mainly made of wood. ‘In ten minutes I can reduce your master’s house to ashes. I think you should tell him this.’
Teng Fu looked at the guns, and the grim faces of the steel helmeted American sailors. Lew had carefully not invited him on board, and from the bobbing sampan, however close, it was difficult for him to discern any obvious signs of damage to the gunboat. ‘You have come for Mr and Mrs McIntyre, and the other women,’ he said. ‘If they are delivered to you, you will leave again?’
‘Then you admit that you are holding them prisoners,’ Lew said, discovering for the first time that the McIntyres had also been arrested.
Teng Fu inclined his head. ‘They have been discovered guilty of treason. They are fortunate not to have been executed. However, the great Chang is willing to reprieve them and send them away.’
Which had to be a considerable surrender. But Lew had already realised that something had gone dramatically wrong with Brenda’s plan. He wasn’t sure where that left any of them, but he was sure it wasn’t good for any of them either. Himself least of all. To disobey orders to provoke a coup d’état and then have the coup d’état not take place would have to be considered a total failure and leave him merely having disobeyed orders. ‘I will speak with Marshal Chang Huang Lu,’ he announced.
‘You?’
‘I will warn him of the error of his ways,’ Lew said, his face stern.
The officer considered. ‘I must seek instruction,’ he said, and saluted, before commanding his men to take him back to the shore.
‘You’re not considering going ashore?’ Fulton asked in dismay. He knew the rules, that a commanding officer never leaves his ship.
But Lew also knew that he was the only man who could swing this one, and having broken so many rules already one more hardly seemed relevant. ‘I think I have to. But you’ll be in support, Bobby.’ In support of what, he wondered? He had no idea what he was going to find, what he was going to do. He could only wait, and try to discover what had happened to Kang Lee — and to Brenda.
*
He did not have to wait very long, for within the hour Teng Fu returned. The crowds on the shore had not diminished, indeed, they seemed to have grown, and Teng Fu looked somewhat hot and bothered. ‘The great Chang will receive you,’ he said.
‘Very good,’ Lew had already given Fulton his orders, but now he repeated them, loudly. ‘You understand my instructions, Mr Fulton. If any vessel approaches within fifty yards of Tombstone, you will sink it immediately.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And if I am not back on board, with Mr and Mrs McIntyre, Mrs Pierce, and Mrs Lloyd, in two hours, you will open fire and destroy the marshal’s palace.’
‘Yes, sir.’
There was a third instruction, but this he did not allow Teng Fu to hear. Then he boarded the sampan, and was rowed to the shore. ‘Do you suppose you can frighten the great Chang?’ Teng Fu asked.
‘I do not deal in fear, General,’ Lew told him. ‘I deal in duty, and in facts.’
Teng Fu thought for a few minutes. Then he said, ‘The great Chang is very angry.’
‘So is my government,’ Lew pointed out.
Teng Fu considered that as well. ‘I have been to America,’ he remarked, as the sampan came into the wooden steps.
‘Has the marshal?’ Lew asked.
‘No,’ Teng Fu said, and added, ‘that is a pity.’
Which Lew thought was the most encouraging thing he had heard that day. Even more encouraging, however, was the ripple of applause which rose from the crowd as he stepped ashore. He glanced at Teng Fu, but the general’s face was impassive, and now he was surrounded by khaki-clad soldiers. Perhaps they were protecting him from the enthusiasm of the crowd, he thought, but equally could they be his gaolers? He rested his hand on his sword hilt, and walked as jauntily as he could, along a dusty and odorous street, thronged with people and dogs, thence through an ornate gateway, where there were more guards; Teng Fu escorted him across a thronged courtyard, the men falling back to either side to give him passage, then up a flight of steps into a large antechamber, again filled with people, and these included women, who fluttered their fans and hissed at each other as he strode through their midst, looking to neither left nor right, Teng Fu at his side.
Double-doors at the end gave access to a private reception chamber, where there was a massive desk, behind which sat the warlord. He was flanked by several officers, but for the moment Lew had eyes only for Chang Huang Lu, who was a little man, made to appear somewhat smaller by the drooping moustaches which hung past his lips, and unlike the men with whom he was surrounded, dressed in the robes of a mandarin, with a round Chinese hat on his head. His face was benign, but his eyes glowed with hostility. ‘Are we, then, at war with the United States?’ he demanded, like his officers, in good English.
Lew gazed at him. ‘You have abused American citizens, Your Excellency, and now you have fired upon a United States warship. My country will require an apology and full reparations for any damages incurred by our people.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘Then you will indeed be at war with the United States.’
‘The United States is far away,’ Chang Huang Lu remarked.
‘My warship is at this moment preparing to fire into your palace, Your Excellency,’ Lew said.
Chang Huang Lu looked at Teng Fu.
‘The warship is there, great Chang,’ Teng Fu confirmed.
‘And there are three more like her, preparing to steam up the Yangste and destroy your entire city,’ Lew went on.
The officers behind the desk stirred restlessly. Presumably, whatever had happened to Kang Lee, some of these men had been in his confidence. But Lew could not spare the time to look at them now; he kept his gaze fixed on Chang Huang Lu’s face.
‘Do you suppose you can frighten me?’ Chang demanded.
‘It is my business to state facts, Your Excellency.’
Chang stared at him, but Lew would not lower his eyes. Then the warlord said, ‘You should know that your citizens have been found guilty of plotting against me, and my state.’
‘They
have been condemned in a court?’
‘They have not yet come to trial. But they will be condemned. The penalty for treason is death. If I am magnanimous, and allow them to depart, that will be sufficient to satisfy your government.’
Only weakness could fail him now, Lew realised, whereas total, arrogant, confidence in his non-existent strength could give him a tremendous victory; Chang Huang Lu had to be humiliated, in front of his officers, if there was to be any hope of the Nationalist supporters amongst them taking control. ‘I’m afraid I cannot accept that,’ he said. ‘I wish an apology. And if any of these people have been harmed. I will require reparations.’
Once again the officers stirred, and Chang stroked his moustache. But he was uneasy — which made Lew still more uneasy about the condition of the prisoners, even if he was knowing that sweet scent of victory.
‘These people are very wicked,’ Chang said. ‘They conspired with one of my officers, Kang Lee. They may have conspired with others. I do not know. And they would not tell me when I questioned them.’
Lew frowned; he felt physically sick. ‘You have dared to ill-treat American citizens?’
‘They are very wicked,’ Chang said again. ‘One in particular. Very wicked.’
Lew took a long breath. ‘I wish to see them, now.’
Chang considered. ‘She is very wicked,’ he repeated.
Lew pointed. ‘Marshal Chang, if Mrs Lloyd has been harmed, I am going to place you under arrest.’
The officers stared at him in consternation.
‘You seek to frighten me,’ Chang said, this time complaining. ‘It was necessary.’ He looked at Teng Fu. ‘Fetch them here.’
‘No,’ Lew snapped. ‘I wish to be taken to them.’
Chang looked at Teng Fu in uncertainty. He had undoubtedly never been spoken to like this since seizing power in Wu-Yang, and he did not know what to make of it — Lew’s very size was daunting.
Raging Sea, Searing Sky Page 31
