The Old Navy

by Daniel P. Mannix

  Capt. Daniel P Mannix, Jr., USMC, Rear Admiral Mannix’s father. Photo taken when he was founding the China Torpedo School in 1880.

  The local villagers regarded the Ticonderoga as a treasure trove, and sampans constantly hovered around her. Everything the crew discarded was immediately snatched up for even an empty tin can was regarded as valuable. At that time, self-propelled torpedoes were still under test and development and highly unreliable. The steering mechanism of the first torpedo Father launched proved to be faulty and it ran up on the beach by the village. Naturally, it was instantly surrounded by a curious crowd who had never seen such an object before but were positive it was an important find.

  Before a boat could be lowered from the Ticonderoga to retrieve the missile, there came the sound of gongs being beaten, and down the village’s only street marched a procession of musicians followed by a gigantic, muscular man naked to the waist and bearing over his shoulder an immense sword. This dignitary carefully examined the torpedo and decided that the percussion cap at the end was its most vulnerable part. After ceremonially wiping off the cap with a silk handkerchief, he whirled the sword around his head. The fascinated spectators crowded closer to be in on the spoils when the gleaming tube was cracked open and the Lord High Executioner lowered his sword to wave them majestically away. Then he brandished his weapon again and brought it down with all his strength on the percussion cap.

  The village simply disappeared.

  Commodore Shufeldt was afraid this incident would cause trouble, but it had precisely the opposite effect. The European powers, together with Japan, were using their battle fleets to seize Chinese cities along the coast as trading centers. Having no coastal defenses China was helpless, and Li Hung-chang, who then held a position roughly equivalent to prime minister, realized that soon China would be dismembered by the predatory foreigners. He heard of the destructive power of the Ticonderoga’s torpedo, and it seemed to him that this was the ideal device for keeping enemy warships away. He invited Commodore Shufeldt to call on him in Tientain, his summer capital. Li asked for an American officer to open a torpedo school at the Tientain Arsenal to train Chinese technicians. Shufeldt recommended Father.

  It was not unusual then for an underdeveloped country to “borrow” a military expert from some more advanced nation for an agreed-on period of years. The officer got a quick promotion (Father was made a captain), extra pay, and in return promised to fight with his adopted country against any nation except his own. The United States was only too glad to cooperate with Li Hung-chang, for we had arrived in the East long after the other powers and were hoping for trade concessions. Father sent back to the states for his family, and we arrived in June 1881, at Tientain near the mouth of the Pei-ho River.

  As much of the country was cut up into rice paddies, there were almost no roads and we ascended the river in a canal boat, a great barge towed by scores of men. These men were barefoot and left long lines of bloody tracks behind them as they strained at the ropes. When one man collapsed, another took his place. I asked Father why horses or oxen were not used. He replied, “They cost money. Remember that here in the Orient human life is the cheapest of all commodities.” I never forgot that.

  Although none of us — not even Father — realized it, we were pioneering a new era. For the first hundred years of its existence, the United States had remained in “splendid isolation”. Our own vast country supplied us with everything we needed — except for what little was required from Latin America — so the country practiced a sort of Monroe Doctrine in reverse; we did not allow foreign nations to interfere in the Western Hemisphere and we did not interfere elsewhere. Unlike European nations which were armed camps, we were guarded by two great oceans and had no need for armed forces. Our Navy was minute and our Army practically non-existent; it was smaller than Switzerland’s. We had no battleships until 1890 when we built three: the Oregon, the Indiana, and the Massachusetts. Two years later we built a third, the Iowa. As a result, Europe regarded us as a third-class power, little more influential than Mexico or Brazil. But now the reluctant giant was stirring. In 1881, the United States was on the threshold of greatness. The little boy who ran crying to Mammy would see during his own lifetime the United States become a vast superpower controlling the destiny of the world. This was the beginning, and he was to play a part in having it come to pass.

  Li Hung-chang had given Father a big house in Taku at the mouth of the Pei-ho River. There were a number of European colonies nearby, each flying its own flag, sporting its own club, race track, and church. Every colony was surrounded by a canal or a river to serve as a moat and maintained its own gunboats and troops; they were independent nations on Chinese soil. Their defenses were as much against each other as against the Chinese, for all the foreign nations were rivals. It was only this rivalry that kept them from carving up China as they had already done Africa. The European businessmen in these compounds were called Taipans and their Chinese managers Compradors. Some were fabulously rich but Father looked down on all of them as “counter jumpers” far inferior to the military which was a gentleman’s profession. “I would rather have been a drummer boy at Waterloo than the richest businessman in the world,” he often said. Father was not popular with either the Taipans or the Compradors.

  As we were the only Americans in Taku and Father was an employee of the Chinese government, we saw more of the Chinese than did the other foreigners who took pride in remaining as aloof from the natives as possible. My sister and I had no white playmates as all European children were sent “home” at an early age so they would grow up uncorrupted by foreign customs and manners. We had about twenty Chinese servants, each servant having several assistants. My especial favorite was the mahfoo (groom) so I spent a large part of my time in the stables conversing with him and the stable boys, and I learned to speak Mandarin Chinese before I could adequate English. Perhaps there was something in the European notion of protecting their children from Chinese influences for once while Mother was entertaining some missionaries and their wives, I burst into our “parlor” and rattled off a few sentences. Mother, who could speak only a few words of Chinese, said proudly, “Doesn’t he talk the language well?” The missionaries looked at her with popeyed horror until one of the gentlemen managed to blurt out, “Do you know what he SAID?”

  Chinese is a very difficult language for a foreigner to learn because it is a tonal language; that is, the significance of a word depends on how it is accented. One word usually has several meanings so the way it is pronounced is all important, much as a note of music can be told only by the pitch of the singer’s voice. Foreigners learning Chinese would memorize a word and then always pronounce it in the same way as they would French or English. This often led to confusion. A newly arrived missionary entering the house of one of our Chinese friends would say, in what he thought to be fluent Chinese, “How kind of you to invite me.” What he’d really said was something like, “I have a face like a pig’s behind.” The host and hostess were far too polite to ridicule a guest, but we children and the servants would burst into howls of laughter, to the visitor’s bewilderment.

  Nowadays we hear a great deal about “all men being brothers” and “everyone being alike in spite of the color of their skins” and so on. To my way of thinking, nothing could be more untrue, and I have spent more time abroad than I have in the United States. One of our greatest problems in dealing with foreigners is that we take for granted that they will think and behave like Americans. When they do not, we are puzzled and angry. The Chinese, on the other hand, considered all foreigners as “crude barbarians” and insisted on following their own customs even when these were obviously disastrous.

  The Pei-ho River was the natural roadway to Pekin, the capital, which lay some 80 miles inland. Any attack on Pekin where the emperor kept his court had to be launched up the river as the country was made up of rice paddies and twisting roads impractic
al for troop movements. The Chinese had built two forts to guard the mouth of the river which they had only finished on the side facing the ocean. The Chinese had never bothered to complete them as it was considered unethical to attack a position from the rear. Pekin was defended only by 48 wooden shutters with painted cannon muzzles on them.

  Foreigners regarded the Chinese as barely human. This was not as bigoted as it sounds. Coolies always walked in the streets; they were not permitted to use the sidewalks. If it became necessary to answer a “call of nature” they would do it in plain view of everybody, just like animals and, so strong is custom, the white ladies would pass paying no more attention than as if they really were animals. Public beheadings were common. Human heads, suspended by their pigtails, were displayed everywhere as a warning to others, and criminals with wooden boards around their necks studded with papers describing their crimes wandered the streets.

  White people stayed close to Taku for fear of dogs and the Chinese. The country around the town was flat and very wild. It was infected with packs of dogs so vicious that whites never walked in the more desolate parts. They rode horseback and the men carried whips, not for the horses but for the dogs and for another menace still more unpleasant, that is, if anything can be more unpleasant than being eaten alive.

  At the gates of the various villages groups of beggars would establish themselves and, on the approach of a white man, surround him while screaming for money. Some of these beggars were actual lepers and others simulated leprosy by painting their faces and bodies ghastly colors. These lepers, real or fake, would crowd around a horseman and, if he didn’t at once commence giving them money, they would threaten to touch him, commencing to paw at his legs and working their way upwards toward his face.

  I once had an encounter with these beggars that still makes my flesh crawl. One of Father’s friends was a general in the Chinese army named Lo who must have weighed over three hundred pounds. General Lo came to visit us and Mother offered him some ice cream. Now the Chinese never ate or drank anything that was iced. The general took a big swallow of the ice cream, dropped his plate, grabbed his stomach and commenced screaming that he had been poisoned.

  Forgivingly, General Lo later presented me with a Manchurian pony whom I named after him as the pony was also extremely plump. One afternoon we were entertaining a husky English pilot named Baxter. He was interested in the country so he and Father set out on horseback, taking me with them. I was riding General Lo. Baxter wanted to see one of the villages and in spite of Father’s warning, rode over to the gate. Instantly the beggars attacked him. I’ll say this for Baxter, he didn’t hesitate. He struck the leader of the beggars with his whip raising a bloody welt, wheeled his horse and fled “belly to the ground”. Since then I have read of the difficulty of contracting leprosy by mere touch. Maybe, but I still think Baxter showed good judgment.

  As I was not welcome in the European compounds and the countryside was unsafe, I seldom left our own yard. Perhaps as a result of this, I learned to read at an early age. Luckily, Father had taken along a considerable library and I read all of them, especially enjoying Dumas and Stevenson. As a man, I have always taken along a supply of books on cruises if at all possible.

  Mammy was a great help to us. Everyone was afraid of her, even, I think, Father, and she ran the household. An enormous woman (she was nearly as big as General Lo) she terrified the Chinese. She was strict unless I was in trouble when she instantly became a crooning, tender mother. She had more to do with raising me than did my parents. I was clumsy as a child, always falling down, and Mammy nicknamed me Bumps. Many years later when she was living in Washington with my sister and her husband I sent my son, Dan, to the kitchen to see her. The way to the kitchen led down a twisting flight of stairs and Dan fell down it. Without looking up from her cooking, Mammy remarked, “Bump’s boy.”

  My only toy was a large rowboat which was mounted on cradles in our backyard and where I used to play for hours. In the bottom were three circular holes which, of course, were supposed to let the water out when the boat was hoisted and to be stopped with plugs when it was lowered into the water. It was one of the mysteries of my childhood how that boat could float with those holes in it.

  The Torpedo School was at Tientsin, a village a few miles from Taku at the junction of the Pei-ho and Hun-ho rivers. Here gunpowder was stored and the newly trained Chinese mechanics turned out excellent Remington breech loaders. Father showed them how to make mines that could be electrically detonated and explosive shells. Occasionally as a great treat he would take us with him to Tientsin. We traveled by horse litter. These were like sedan chairs with one horse in front and another behind. They swayed up and down and had a tendency to make one seasick. Another means of travel was “Pekin carts”, two-wheeled affairs with metal tires and no springs. After a short trip on one of them a traveler felt as though every bone in his body had been broken.

  Mother and my sister never walked because Chinese ladies never walked. Chinese ladies couldn’t. As very young children their feet were encased in bandages that prevented their growth, resulting in a complete change in the form of the foot. They might totter a few steps but that was all. This was considered graceful, like a white woman mincing along on high heels. For a Chinese lady to show her unbound foot was simply unspeakable. It was just as well. I once saw a woman’s unbound feet and didn’t want to see any more.

  By 1885, even I could tell that war between China and the foreign powers was imminent. The British had occupied Burma which was part of the Chinese Empire. The Russians had taken Turkistan, also part of China. Now Japan seized the Licuchiu Islands. The country was being torn apart. Only a navy strong enough to stop the invaders could save it as they all came by sea. Even the Russians found it easier to invade by ship than to cross Siberia. I can remember at this time there was some dispute with France and for several nights Father remained at one of the forts in anticipation of an attack which never came. Father, in accordance with his oath, was perfectly prepared to die for China if necessary, something few Chinese were equally willing to do.

  To me, Father was a giant. He stood slightly less than six feet (as I do now) and always kept himself at full attention. He seldom smiled. He wore an imperial goatee and a mustache like Napoleon III or, as I preferred to think of it, like the Three Musketeers. I can’t recall his ever speaking to me except to give an order or a rebuke. I am quite sure he did not mean to be unkind. His whole life had been spent in the armed services and to him I was not a child but a junior officer. Junior officers had to be kept in their place and trained for a career in the service. There was never any doubt that I would enter either the Navy or the Marines.

  This was natural for our family had been connected with the military for three generations. We were originally Irish. My great-grandfather had come to the United States in the early days of the nineteenth century, bringing with him his wife and little son who was to be my grandfather. Great-grandfather’s name was Daniel Patrick Mannix, but when he arrived in America he found there was considerable prejudice against the Irish, so he changed it to Daniel Pratt Mannix. As he was to become an American citizen, he intended to conform to American customs and attitudes.

  Admiral Pratt, under whom Daniel Patrick Mannix served during the Civil War and whose middle name he later adopted.

  During the Civil War, Grandfather was a Colonel of Volunteers and was killed at Shiloh, April 6, 1862, when the Confederates under General A. S. Johnston (who was also killed) all but succeeded in driving our army into the river. My father entered the Navy at eighteen as an acting master’s mate, later became an acting ensign and still later a second lieutenant in the Regular Marine Corps. During the war, he served on the Mississippi under Farragut. He was at New Orleans and at Vicksburg. In April 1865, he was on duty at the Washington Navy Yard when Lincoln was assassinated. As commander of the Marine Guard, Father guarded Lincoln’s body until it w
as sent west for burial. He never removed the piece of crepe he tied to the hilt of his sword in mourning for the dead president. I still have the sword with the crepe attached. Later, he became a torpedo expert and in that capacity was assigned to the Ticonderoga.

  Everyone knew that the attack on China had only been postponed, not abandoned. A weak nation was regarded as public property. In fact, China was hardly a nation at all. Two hundred and fifty years before, the country had been overrun by the Manchus pouring down from Mongolia who flooded almost without opposition over the Great Wall built to hold them back. To my way of thinking, no static barrier has ever been able to stop a determined enemy, as witness the Maginot Line in World War II. The Manchus established themselves as a ruling class, much as the Normans did in England after 1066. The Chinese hated them and they looked on the Chinese with contempt, forcing them to wear the pigtail as a symbol of servitude. Naturally, the emperor and his court in Pekin were all Manchus.

  Although there was an emperor when we arrived in China, he was a nonentity. The real ruler was the old Empress Dowager, Tzu Hsi, one of the most remarkable women in history. To understand the events of the next few months and why Father’s efforts to save China failed, you will have to know something about this strange woman.

  She was born in 1835, a Manchu, and when the emperor died in 1850 she, together with a number of other respectable Manchu girls, was presented to the emperor’s son, a nineteen-year-old boy who had assumed the throne. Hsien Feng, as he was named, was married to a noble but not too intelligent lady named Sakota. However, it was taken for granted he would need several concubines as well. Tzu was not especially beautiful but, according to the story, she was clever enough to pretend indifference to the young emperor. The spoiled Hsien Feng was so intrigued by the idea of a woman who was not immediately overcome by his charms that he made her a concubine. Years later, Wally Simpson used the same technique to interest the Prince of Wales.